#today i have decided. to challenge myself. by doing what literally everyone else does

[1alchemistart]

braided his hair 👍

#loz #totk #link zelda #link legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda tears of the kingdom #link totk #link botw #legend of zelda #my art #i am so bad at drawing necklaces JSDFJLSD #also #usually i draw like. mostly in one single layer #i do the flats and then i merge EVERYTHING and work like that #today i have decided. to challenge myself. by doing what literally everyone else does #which is unusual for me #use layers for god's sake JKSDFKL #i still merged at the end so i could draw over some mistakes and render some stuff more neatly BUT STILL #twas a challenge SDJSD cause my main instinct was to Merge instantly

[bonny-kookoo]

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance,  Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Sing To Me AU

[burnedbyshoto]

arrière-pensée

— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence

word count: 8,550

a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them! carefully read the warnings!!!!

kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink

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“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”

Click.

You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.

Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?

You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.

The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller. 

Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.

Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.

Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.

Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.

You were as ready as you could ever be. 

With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment. 

It was time to work.

The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?

All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters. 

By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.

Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due. 

Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.

White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving. 

Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.

There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.

Name: Fuwa Mawata Position: Greeter & Inspector.

“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”

“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.

“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”

What now?

“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”

“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.

“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”

You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”

“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”

It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”

With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.

The second floor is loud.

People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were. 

Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.

This job had no downtime. 

You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked. 

Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of. 

It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.

“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”

“Ah, I suppose so!” she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”

She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.

There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs. 

It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor. 

Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?

“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”

You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.

Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.

It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.

Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.

It was Ground Zero.

Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.

“Everybody get the fuck up.”

It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt. 

You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence. 

“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”

Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.

“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.

But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.

“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”

Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.

“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”

Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.

But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.

Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you. 

The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.

“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”

Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.

A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.

“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.

“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead. 

It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…

You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin. 

But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.

Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”

“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”

Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.

It’s over before you can blink.

You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know. 

There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless. 

“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”

You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.

“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.

Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet. 

Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.

“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”

The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.

“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”

Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.

Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.

“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”

And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him. 

His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.

Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.

Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.

You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.

“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”

You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.

“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”

You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs. 

Too much, too much, too much!

His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely. 

The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor. 

Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.

But that was enough for Ground Zero.

It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.

“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”

With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.

You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.

But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient. 

His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.

“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.

Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.

“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”

Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.

“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”

Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.

But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.

“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”

“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”

“Oh?”

Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.

Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up. 

The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands. 

You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.

“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”

The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”

With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.

“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.

“Y-Yes?”

“How much fucking longer?”

“I-It’s at 63%!”

“Wonderful.”

One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.

“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”

“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.

“How much?”

“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”

“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”

“W-What?!”

“Show her your cock.”

It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored. 

“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.

Then the world picked back up.

The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.

“Cute fucking thong.”

You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.

Ass up, back curved, chest down.

“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.

The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”

Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”

You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.

“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”

But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.

“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.

Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”

It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”

The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.

“Answer me, fucking whore.”

There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.

“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”

“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”

“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”

Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”

The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.

Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes. 

“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.

“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.

Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.

“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.

You cried.

The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.

Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.

“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”

“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”

Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.

His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.

“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”

You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You wake up in a car.

The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.

You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.

It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.

His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.

“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours. 

“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.

“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.

“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”

“Perfect.”

It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.

You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.

“I love you.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

tags in comments, theres too many of you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #bakugou katsuki x reader

[fruitcoops]

i feel like you write really good arguments, as a few people have brought up before, where the parties make mistakes but own up to them and acknowledge the other side. Same thing with Captain Sirius- his reprimands are always respectful. It feels mature and just well-thought out. But we know Sirius wasn't always like that, because he came to dumo's house knowing arguments=violence. Would you write a fic where Sirius learns how to argue/captain? maybe from Dumo-the-parent? Does that make sense?

Father-son bonding on this fine Thursday! I love it! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

Dumo’s phone rang halfway through his lunch, which wasn’t unusual, except for the fact that it was Sirius calling and not…well, literally anyone else. Sirius seemed rather allergic to his phone—text replies often went unanswered for an average of 3 hours, and he wasn’t sure he had ever managed to reach Sirius on the first ring. Concern flickered in his chest and he lifted it to his ear.

“H—”

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius said, breathless. “Hi, hello, it’s me—uh, it’s Sirius—and I was just calling to ask for some help because I’m the captain now—you know that, what am I doing—and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do and I’m kind of—”

“Sirius,” Dumo interrupted as soon as his astonishment faded. He had never heard Sirius say so many words in so little time. Silence fell on the other end of the line. “Sirius, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, then tell me what you need.”

Another beat of quiet passed. “So, I’m the captain now.”

“You are.”

“And the guys really like you, but I don’t even know where to start, so I was hoping you could give me a hand with this.”

“With what?”

“How do I make people like me?” Sirius asked, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

Dumo paused, confused. “They already do.”

“But I’m the captain now. They have to like me more, right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and laying down to stave off a headache. “Why don’t you come over and we can talk in person, alright?”

“Right.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, about that.”

“Sirius. Are you—are you currently on my porch?”

“…maybe.” Dumo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“You have a key.”

“I thought it would be rude to just let myself in.”

“Oh my god,” Dumo muttered, rising from his chair with a huff. The autumn wind howled as he opened the front door, stripping the trees of their leaves and turning Sirius’ cheeks vivid red as he stood on the top step with the phone still at his ear and anxiety written all over his face.

“Bonjour.”

“You can hang up the phone now.”

Sirius bit his lip and slid it back into his pocket, waiting awkwardly until Dumo motioned him inside and he hurried out of the chill. “Thanks for picking up, by the way.”

“Of course. I’ll always pick up the phone for you.” He guided him toward the kitchen with a hand on his shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Still so polite. The coffeepot was still warm from Celeste’s late breakfast, and Sirius’ eyes grew wide at the steam curling off the top when Dumo handed him a mug to wrap his frozen hands around before sitting across from him. “Back to business. Number one: the team already likes you, and you need no help from me getting their approval. Got it?”

Sirius nodded and took a sip.

“Number two: If you ever need my help, please don’t wait on the front porch in freezing weather when you could just knock.” A sheepish smile twitched at the side of his mouth and Dumo shook his head. “I won’t be responsible for your hypothermia. Now, what did you want advice about?”

Sirius let out a slow breath. “I don’t want to be the hardass captain that everyone hates. I just—this is an amazing opportunity, but honestly I just want my friends.”

Dumo hummed, even as his heart panged. “At the risk of sounding vague, the way to do that is to not be a hardass in the first place. Be a leader instead.”

“But I have to tell them what to do—”

“—and a leader does that the right way. There’s a difference between being a leader and being a tyrant. Push them to be better, but don’t be cruel about it. Set an example through the things you do, not the things you make other people do.” He touched the back of his hand gently and Sirius’ eyes flickered over. “Don’t lead through fear, but through respect.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s why you called me, non?” He waited until he saw the small smile return. “Alright, how would you approach a situation where one of your teammates is lagging behind in their speed trials?”

Sirius blinked. “Tell them to do better?”

Different tactic. “How did your coaches talk to you when you lagged behind in your speed trials?”

“…told me to do better.”

Orion Black, I will break your kneecaps the next time I see you. Dumo poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “That may have been a strategy for you, but for someone who is already trying their best, it could be very discouraging. They might resent you for trying to seem better than them.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed. “But I’m not.”

“I know. But they wouldn’t. In my opinion, the best course of action would be to ask what’s wrong, and how you can help. It might not get better overnight, but that teammate will trust that you can help them with their problem and will know that you care about them.”

“So I should just let them fail for a while?”

“You push them toward success gradually, and don’t berate them for any hiccups along the way. Failure can bring growth.”

His mouth set into a line of frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not explaining this right,” Dumo muttered, chewing the inside of his lip. How to explain to the new leader of your team what leadership is... “Let’s put it this way. You want Pots and Harzy to run a specific play, but they don’t understand it. How do you fix it?”

Sirius started to answer, then closed his mouth and thought for a moment, staring into the depths of his coffee. “I…I would walk them through it section by section, because I know they’re smart, but they might have problems with different parts.”

Dumo wondered if the room had actually become brighter, or if the pride in his heart was just shining through into the real world. “Exactly. And afterward, when they get it right?”

“High-five and run it again.”

“Now you’re getting it!” Something more difficult... “What if Kuny and Nado won’t shut up during Coach’s breakdown?”

“Tell them to be quiet.”

“But then Nado calls you a buzzkill and starts whispering to Kuny, and giving you looks.” Sirius’ whole face fell; if Dumo wasn’t so committed to making sure he got it right, he would’ve felt bad. “What do you do, Sirius?”

“Apolo—”

“No. People don’t respect those who apologize every time they face pushback.”

“But you said I need them to like me.”

“You need them to respect you. They don’t have to like you at all hours of the day.” He poked him lightly on the chest. “It’s your job to keep the team in line, now, and that means being a bit of a buzzkill sometimes. Not an asshole. Just a leader. What do you do if they start whispering about you?”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “Tell them to cut it out again,” he said grudgingly.

“And if they don’t?”

“Can I make them run laps after the meeting?”

“Yep. How many?”

“Three, because I had to ask three times.” He frowned. “And they should run at separate times, otherwise they’ll keep talking. God, they really don’t shut up, do they?”

That’s rich coming from you, Mr.-Chats-with-Pots-24/7. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself—that wasn’t what today was about. “Good job, Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Oui. If you lay down the rules early, you won’t have to keep correcting mistakes. They won’t want to disappoint you in the first place.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he said quietly.

“You won’t.” If there was one thing Dumo was sure of, it was that Sirius would be the best captain the Lions ever had. “Ready for the toughest part?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?” he asked again.

Sirius swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t like the way you’re captaining this team.”

From the look on his face, Dumo might as well have whacked him over the head with a spatula. “What?”

“I don’t think you have the guts.”

A combination of hurt and anger flashed in his eyes. “Hey!”

Dumo prodded him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to be able to stick up for yourself when it comes down to it. You can’t say no to your friends.”

“I can!”

“Then do it,” he challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You���re—” Sirius pressed his lips together and stood up. “Fuck you. I came to you for help—”

Dumo rose as well, leaning forward half an inch. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you can captain the shit out of this team.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Say it like you mean it!”

“You’re wrong!” Sirius repeated as his jaw set, louder. “I’m going to captain the shit out of this team and fuck you for thinking I can’t!”

“But I don’t like it!” Though they were both shouting at each other, Sirius’ defensiveness and timidity in the face of conflict were nowhere to be found.

“That’s not my problem!” His cheeks were turning pink again, but not from the cold. “I’m the captain, so you either listen to me or tell me what the hell your problem is!”

“There you go!” Dumo cheered, stepping around the table to crush him in a hug. “That was perfect.”

Sirius went still with befuddlement. “What?”

“You didn’t believe you could captain this team until just now, did you?” He stepped back and held Sirius’ shoulders, beaming. “You just did exactly what you were supposed to do. You cannot let yourself be pushed around if you want to lead and keep your friendships strong. I am so, so proud of you.”

Sirius stared at him in shock for a moment, then moved forward again and rested his chin on Dumo’s shoulder as he pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

“You are going to do great things, Sirius. I’m just glad I could help.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Dumo smiled and patted his back, giving him a squeeze. “Yes, you could. That’s how I know you will.”

#sirius black #pascal dumais #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #captain lessons #dumo

[krreader]

dal | enemies to lovers.

pairing: kim taehyung x idol!reader ; ari x kim namjoon ; miya x jung hoseok fandom: dal ; bts  warnings: big hit girl group member!reader ; sex ; language genre: smut word count: 2k+ other: for more DAL content, please check out the DAL masterlist

summary: you wouldn’t break like your members. not even for a kim taehyung.

a/n: diamond maknae has jk and yoongi, dal will have taehyung and whoever else you decide ehehe. in all seriousness, though, thank you for the request and I hope you wanted the other members to have the whole enemies to lovers thing as well, not just the reader. even though the focus is still the reader, obviously!

Despite you and Bangtan being from the same company and despite you all now having a fantastic relationship... it wasn't always this way.

Every now and again, you'd still joke about why the dynamic between your two groups was so shitty at first, with you four claiming that it was because they were afraid that someone might throw them off their throne, whereas they claim, it was because you girls were way too overconfident.

Whatever it really was in the end, whether that or something else, your groups didn't like each other much. It was a constant battle of who's better. A battle, that you girls had to fight twice as hard due to their already existing fanbase and yours still growing.

Nevertheless, you four held your ground. And that was the first step of gaining BTS' approval.

“They actually work hard, you know?” Hoseok was the first to ever say these words out loud when Bangtan was having dinner one night.

“Mhm, I think we all know why you out of all of us says that, hyung,” Jimin shoved a spoon full of rice in his mouth, munching on it with a smirk while the rest of the boys were left with confused faces. Hoseok just lowered his head until they could see nothing but his forehead.

“No, we don't,” Taehyung said, “Why do we think that?”

“Do you want to confess, hyung? Or do you want to keep this a secret for a little while longer?”

Well, putting him on the spot like that wasn't exactly 'keeping it a secret'. Hoseok didn't say anything, but he did lean back, a little more confidently and raised his eyebrows at Jimin as to say: “Fine. Spill the tea.”

“Hoseokie hyung has been giving... dancing lessons to Miya. Private dancing lessons. If you guys know what I mean.”

And then a round full of “WHAT?!” and “SHUT UP!” and “NO WAY”'s were shouted into the room.

It was bound to happen eventually.

Even Bang PD had said something like: “Listen... I know that your two groups will probably spend a lot of time together and because of your age and your similar interests... things could... escalate. Do whatever you want to do, but I don't want to find out and neither should the rest of the company. Don't get pregnant and don't let anyone ever find out, then what you do is your business,” to Ari and Namjoon at a meeting for both groups one day.

Funny, that he'd say that to the two of them, since they were the ones that fucked each other first.

“Oh, come on,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest when you walked into Ari's room one day and found Namjoon lying in her bed, “You've got to be kidding me.”

“Fucking knock,” she jumped out of the bed, put on a bathrobe and pushed you out of the room, closing the door behind her, “You didn't see anything, okay?”

“I saw too much, actually,” but hey, good for her. That size wasn't easy to come by these days.

“I mean... don't tell the others, okay? It's not serious, I just need to let off steam and he's the same.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“I don't know.. a few weeks? What does it matter anyways?”

“It matters, because a friends with benefits relationship that goes on for a long time might evolve into something more. What if you fall for him?”

She snorted that day and told you that it'd never happen.

But when you walked out of the kitchen one day and saw her kiss him goodbye at the door with that lovey-dovey smile, you knew that it had already happened. And from the way he didn't want to let her go, you doubted that it was one-sided.

“You'll forever be my baby sister, right?” you asked Jun one night when you were feeling lonely due to Ari being with Namjoon again and Miya having “gone to dance practice”. At one in the morning.

She wasn't exactly being sneaky here. You just didn't know who it was that she was seeing.

“Of course, I will be,” she snuggled against you and grinned, “Why are you so sad today?”

“Ah, I don't know. When we were announced and had that tension with BTS, it felt like we pushed ourselves to be better, you know? But now it feels like we're starting to lose that goal with Ari and Miya already having gone over to the dark side.”

“The dark side?” Jun sat up and let out a snort, “I think you should finally let go of that hate towards the guys, you know?”

“It's not hate. It's just... competition. Wanting to be better than them.”

“You know, I think the best way at becoming better than them is to learn from them.”

“When did you become so wise?” you furrowed your eyebrows, pulled a pillow into your arms and hugged it tightly. But within seconds, you sat up straight and looked at her with wide eyes, “Oh no... not you too.”

Jun let out a chuckle and got up, “They're really not so bad, (Y/N). Just put some effort into it. You'll be fine, I promise.”

Great.

So now all three of your band members had formed an alliance with one member of BTS. And whether they were just 'passing time' with each other or were actually in a relationship with them didn't matter here. What mattered was that they were no longer enemies.

Only you were left to defend your group.

“Aw, don't you have any friends that will have lunch with you?” Taehyung chuckled as he sat down in front of you, “Then I'll sacrifice myself and eat with you.”

“You're here on your own too, so right back at you,” you narrowed your eyes at him, shoving a piece of kimchi in your mouth.

He looked at you for a second with a half grin, then he started laughing and nodded, “Fair enough.”

“Don't you have to work or something? Thought the world famous BTS never stopped working.”

“Ah, don't be jealous, love. You'll get there in fifteen years, too.”

Taehyung was the worst thorn in your eye for sure. The one that you wanted to slap 90% of the time and the other 10 you caught yourself having thoughts that you really didn't want to have. Not when you fought for your ‘independence’ from BTS for so long.

But hey... he was fucking handsome. No denying here.

“You think I'm jealous of you?” you snorted and got up, “Please, don't flatter yourself.”

You returned your plates and then wanted to make your way back to the studio. Only that once you were in the elevator, someone squeezed in just in time.

“You literally just sat down to eat. What do you want?”

“I asked them to pack it up for me,” Taehyung grinned happily, “Want to hang out?”

“Wh..- Seriously, are you that lonely?”

“Yeah, that's why I want to spend time with you. You're the loneliest person I know.”

“I'm not lonely,” you snorted and crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I have quite a lot of friends. And... lovers.”

Not sure why you felt like you had to add – and make up – that last part, but it unfortunately didn't go over well. Because Taehyung instantly started laughing, way more than was natural.

“Oh, you don't believe me?” you challenged, instantly standing up straighter and taking a step towards him.

It shut him up, but only because he straightened his back too and licked his lips with a smirk.

“Not in the slightest. But hey... convince me of your talents, if you really want to.”

And that was the issue between your dynamic with him. Neither of you wanted to back down and lose to the other.

So you took another step towards him, your boobs now touching his chest and looking daringly into his eyes.

“Like you're worthy of that.”

“I will be,” he leaned down, until his lips were right beside your ear, “If you let me.”

He thought he had you then... but that's why he liked you so much. Because he didn't have you. Not even in the slightest. You just snorted and walked out of the elevator when the doors opened again and he was left there smirking with too tight pants.

“Oh, isn't this just wonderful, we're having a party,” you said with a sarcastic smile as you walked into your apartment that was filled with not just your members, but BTS members as well, “I guess I wasn't invited. Despite me living here.”

“Don't be such a downer,” Ari said with a heavy sigh, getting up and handing you a drink, “Just sit down and talk to them. Please.”

“No, thank you. I'll just take my leave and wait in my room until everyone is gone.”

Jun got up and wanted to convince you to stay, but you were already on your way and Ari stopped her, shaking her head.

“Just give her time. She'll come around. We all did.”

You were so ready to fall into your bed and sleep, trying to ignore the laughing coming from the living room. 

But when you closed the door to your bedroom behind you, you instantly jumped in shock when you heard a male voice coming from your bed.

“Oh, how fortunate for me. This is your room?”

When you turned around, you found Taehyung literally chilling in your bed, one arm behind his head, shoes off and legs crossed, while the other hand held the remote control and browsed through your Netflix.

“You know, I see a pattern here... a lot of PG18 movies.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Why? I don't want to go over there. They're all making out and being lovey-dovey and it's annoying me,” he sat up and pursued his lips, “Besides. You're way more fun than your members. No offense.”

“Offense taken. They're very funny, actually, now get out,” you tried to pull him out of the bed, but he was stronger than you and pulled you into the bed with him instead.

“Oops.”

He smirked at you while you were now lying on top of him. And suddenly you realized what a game he was playing.

That time in the elevator. It started a war between you two of who could break the other one sooner. Sexually speaking.

Oh, if only you hadn’t mentioned those damned non-existant lovers.

In your mind, you already considered yourself the loser. But on the outside? No way.

“Your lip balm is pressing against my leg.”

He let out a laugh, “Even a lip balm can satisfy the driest lips in the world.”

Oh, that fucker.

“But see, when your lips are already moist because of that newer lip balm that you're using, you don't need the older model.”

“Hm, I understand,” he pushed himself up, both of you now sitting, you still on his lap, “But what if I tell you that it's not actually a lip balm, but a lip gloss?”

“I never liked lip glosses. They're very thin... too little product inside to satisfy my needs.”

Taehyung's grin grew larger by the second and even you had a hard time containing yours now.

“You just need to find the right lip gloss then. One that is thick, holds a lot of product and makes your lips wetter than they've ever been... for hours and hours and hours...”

“Is that a promise?” you looked down to his lips, losing that battle on the outside as well now.

“It's a vow, baby girl.”

And there it was.

The battle was over in less than five minutes.

The two of you made out, got rid of your clothes and Taehyung fucked you better than anyone else ever had, with you literally having to bite into your pillow so that you wouldn't scream.

And when Bangtan wanted to leave an hour later and realized that Taehyung was not with them anymore, they and your band members searched the entire apartment, only to stop in front of your door and hear you... unfortunately.

“Oh god,” Jin grimaced and walked away instantly, your youngest band members doing the same.

But Ari stayed for a moment longer and even considered walking in just to give you a thumbs up.

If only Namjoon hadn't stopped her.

That would have been hilarious.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #kim taehyung #taehyung #v #reader #dal #requests

[machinegunbun]

UnConventional Bakers [Pete]

Requested? no

word count? 1.7k

TW? None

A/n: it’s like 80% dialogue bc it’s supposed to be a tv show. whadder ya gonna do

The props department did a wonderful job this season, comedy inspired props sprinkled about the set. Mic stands ended in lollipops, rice krispy stools covered in modeling chocolate, Comedians stood at every station, patiently awaiting directions. 

Conventional Bakers was finally ready for shooting its first season. It was a show about famous people coming together on a baking show and competing. It would have everyone from singers to actors or, in this case, comedians. Every season would be inspired by the careers of the people competing.

“On this season of UnConventional Bakers we are joined by,” the camera took turns panning to each comedian as you said their name. 

“Kevin Hart, Pete Davidson, Adam Sandler and…” you paused for dramatic effect “Fluffy!!!”

The comedians protest coming fast after 

Why’d he get all the excitement?” Adam asks

“Yeah, i’m literally your fiance what the fuck.” Pete adds, laughing “I don’t like that, i don’t like that shit. I got my eye on you Gabriel.”

“Don’t hate me cause I'm beautiful.” Fluffy replies

“Bakers! Comedians, whatever,” you call out, trying to regain their attention, Pete playfully mumbled but returned his attention “if you want a chance at winning you will have to pay attention.”

“Got it, go. No wait… yeah okay, go.” Adam interrupts, causing you to bite back a smile. This would be a long shoot

“For tonight's challenge, you’re in for a treat. Because it’s only the first round, we’ll take it easy on you and allow teams.” muted murmurs fell over the room as they decided who would be on whose team, “Tonight we will be making the one thing a comedian couldn’t live without.” Your co-star, Nicole Byers, continues.

“Weed.” Pete guesses,

“No, their audience.”

“Oh, speak for yourself.” 

“You will be making your very own audience cupcakes. When we say go you will head to your baking stations where you will find step by step instructions on how to make your audience, along with photo references and the clock will begin counting down.” You say

“Go, go, go! What are you waiting for?!” Nicole rushes, you take your seat as they make their way to the respective stations. The teams ended up being Pete and Kevin, Gabe and Adam.

Things were going pretty smoothly, the comedians racing back and forth from the ingredients to their stations as things began starting up. As you look around, you see Pete and Kevin looking confused as they stare at the instructions.

“Something wrong, sweety?” you ask

“No, all good over here. Thanks for asking.” Gabe pipes up, you laugh and make your way over to Pete

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I shouldn’t have dropped out of college.”

“How come? What's wrong?”

“I need ⅔   a cup, but there’s not a ⅔  measurement cup.” he says

“Well, if you need ⅔  but there's not one, you just take two--” 

“Don’t patronize me. I got it.” Kevin cuts you off in the middle of explaining, grabbing two handfuls of flour and throwing it in the mixer “There, that should work.” 

You sigh, making your way over to the other stations to check on how everyone else was doing. Adam was doing well, which wasn’t a surprise considering he’s a father and probably does some baking at home.

“Gabe, how are you doing?” 

“Not good, I’m used to eating cake and not making it.”

“Oh hush, you’re doing fine!” You encourage, leaning forward to whisper to him “Kevin just measured flour with his hands, so I think you’ll be okay.”

“Guys, I think they’re talking about you.” Adam yells

“Yeah, I know.” Pete laughs.

“That's okay, cause you know what? Haters gonna hate.” Kevin yells

After making your rounds you sat back down, turning to face a laughing Nicole.

“That wasn’t sugar, that was salt.” She barely squeaks out “They’re gonna be so gross” you nod and laugh along, all but excited for the dishes that would soon be in front of you.

“On that note, can we get some water?” You call out to the team behind you

“And a medic?” Nicole adds

“And a mathematician. You understand this shit?” Pete says

“What? Basic measurements? Yeah baby, I do.” 

Before you knew it the timer had gone off and the cupcakes were sat in front of you. 

“So, these are what your audience were supposed to look like, and this is what they do look like.” Nicole says, vaguely gesturing to the cupcakes

“We- we uh, we took some creative liberties.” Pete says through a laugh

“Well, let’s see what it tastes like.” you say, grabbing one from the crowd and cheersing it with Nicole’s

“Might as well get this over with.” she says, making a clink noise with her mouth, as she does there's another noise too. The rock hard exteriors made a clunk noise. Your jaw dropped as you made eye contact with Nicole, not believing what had just happened

“Wait.” you say, grabbing another and throwing it at the ground with all the force you could muster. It cracked directly in half, crumbs flying across the floor.

“Pete!” you yell, an amused smile painted across your face. Pete laughs, covering his face 

“I have no idea what happened.”he says, picking up the cupcake from the floor

“This is my passion, how did you fuck up this hard?!”

“I have no fucking idea.” he laughs, crumbling it up in his hand.

“I guess we still have to taste it.” you say, grabbing another and cracking a piece off on the table, handing one to Nicole. When you bite down there's an audible crunch that makes everyone in the room wince. You can’t help the expression that overcomes your face as the taste hits your tongue, looking over to Nicole to confirm it wasn’t just you. It wasn’t.

You attempt to open your water, your hand slipping again and again until Pete walks over and opens it for you, feeding you the water as he apologizes through his laughter. It took you a minute of held back gags to recompose yourself, but when you finally did you said,

“Your BLEEP is sweeter than this.” You say, deeply preferring it over the burnt, salty, crunchy thing in front of you.

“Really?” Pete asks, laughing and when you nod your head it only makes him laugh harder.

“Pete, you fucked up Pete.” Kevin says. 

“Dont throw this on him, you’re the one who wouldn’t listen.” You say, looking over to Nicole who had resorted to licking the icing off the cupcake

“Look at what you’ve done to this poor lady. You should be ashamed. It’s gotta be a zero from me” You laugh, more than ready to move on.

“You know what, the icing wasn’t bad,” They began to fight over who had made the icing. “I don’t care, just promise to never do that again. Adam, Gabe, before I take a bite you have to promise me it won’t be like that.” Nicole says, dead serious. They shake their head, letting out little reassurances while choking down their laughter. You take a deep breath before lifting the cupcake to your mouth and taking a small test bite, surely traumatized. 

To your delight, it was actually very good. You smiled and nodded, taking another bite as Kevin and Pete groaned, knowing they’d surely lost.

“I feel like theirs was so bad we can’t even celebrate.” Adam says.

“Yeah, i don’t think we need to add insult to injury by announcing the winners of this round. On to the next?!” You cheer, preparing to announce what would come next.

“For your next challenge, we will be making cupriphon- cupcakeriphones- Okay, the name hasn’t been completely sorted out yet, cupcake microphones!” You announce

“Yes! And because we felt bad for the loser, that’s just in the script so i had to say it, i don’t actually feel bad for you that was disgusting. Because we felt bad for the loser, we decided to give them a leg up. If you look at the stations, two of them have buttons. They’re called the happy heckler buttons and when you press them a timer will be set and either Y/N or myself will go yell encouragement to your teammates until it goes off.” Nicole says

“Awhh, so sweet. Ready? Set? Go!” You yell, watching them scatter to try to find a station.

“Ay, stay back this is mine.” Fluffy says to Adam, haphazardly wielding a knife, momentarily fighting over a station before Nicole reminds them the timer is counting down. They take a look at their ingredients before rushing over to the storage space and grabbing what they need.

You’d managed to get to the decorating stage with little to no issues when you hear Kevin yelling, “Pete! I need your help, I need those long legs pete.” straining to grab something from the top shelf

“Hold on, one second.” He says, glancing back momentarily as he tried to finish decorating.

“Oh shit, you’re already decorating?” Kevin asks as Pete hands him what he needed before walking back to his station.

“Yeah, catch up.” Pete says

“Okay, i’ll catch up, if that's what you want.” Kevin says, slamming his button down in a melodramatic act of sabotage.

Nicole yells in excitement, ready for some action, running over to distract Pete.

“You dick! I thought we were friends.” he says, slamming his own button. You run over, making sure to get in Kevins face as you encourage him, giving him slaps on the back and shaking his shoulders. Things had gotten very chaotic, very fast.

When the four minutes were over you left Kevin’s station for Pete’s, hanging out with him as his cupcakes cooked in the oven. He was bent over in a hug with you, small kisses being pressed to each others lips.

“Doing so good baby.” you mumble, fingers tangled in his hair. Usually you didn’t like PDA, but you had made an exception today because it had been a long shoot and you missed him.

“Way better than last time.” He confirms, remembering last time they had burnt and opting to check the oven.

“Look at that! This aint fair, Pete’s sleepin with the judges!” Kevin yells, making everyone laugh

“You could be too, Kevin.” Nicole winks

“Nicole, you’re both married.” You remind them

“Hey, that's show business baby.” Kevin jokes

When it all came to an end, Adam ended up winning and it was a surprise.. To no one. He was the only one even kind of equipped to win and he rode that all the way to the finish line.

#pete davidson #pete davidson fluff #pete davidson fic #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson x reader

[easily-infatuated23]

The Tub: Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my first one of these so sorry if it sucks but here goes nothing!

Part Two Here

warnings: just some light fluff, small mention of bullying

summary: reader is having a really hard day and when she goes to relax in the prefects bathroom the unexpected occurs 

word count: 2k

The castle is enormous. So enormous that getting lost becomes part of my daily routine. But sometimes, its so crushingly small it's hard to find a place to be alone to get away from the constant noise of what feels like hundreds of middle and high school students. Everyone’s first choice of escape is the astronomy tower, so much so that a Ravenclaw tried to institute a sign up sheet as to insure the crowds wouldn’t mass as much. They were unsuccessful. The truly hidden places of the castle are few and far between and for those of us who aren’t lucky enough to find the Room of Requirement, we must get creative. The most recent spot I have found is the Prefect’s bathroom on the sixth floor. Moaning Myrtle will sometimes float through but we are on good terms so she generally will leave me alone.

As a Seer, the noise of the world is extra loud in my head. It's bad enough to have the regular noise, but the passing through of others’ thoughts is exhausting. I have gotten better at shielding myself but it takes a lot of energy. The Prefect’s bathroom has been a wonderful solution because within the chamber is a large bathtub which I use as a jacuzzi, to relax and reset. I am just so tired. The added layer of being Seer as well as a non pure-blood in Slytherin, takes its own individual toll. My family had been pure-blood until my parents. My mother had married a muggle man.

I started late in the sequence of years at Hogwarts. My family moved from America to England which meant I transferred into school third year. For a while people were interested in me but that died down within the first month. However, when I let my family heritage slip, I became as talked about as Harry Potter. As a descendant of Merlin himself, people began to attempt to get close to me just for the idea of “fame” rubbing off onto them. Harry and I have had discussions about it together but I know he secretly enjoys it, even if he doesn’t know he does.

Today wasn’t just any typical Thursday. The excitement for Christmas break was buzzing around the castle, practically inescapable. The world was loud and I was tired. Luckily, today is a short day so I was able to escape to the Prefect’s bathroom after lunch. I usually waited until I knew most of the castle was either at a meal or doing homework but today the world had been especially loud. I tentatively filled the tub checking my surroundings for a stray ghost or student. Once it was full I climbed in and allowed myself to fully relax. The noise melted away and it was like I could finally breathe.

After only fifteen short minutes I heard footsteps and looked up to see the last person I would expect or want to see, Draco Malfoy. The Prince of pure-blood Slytherin, the cruelest person within the castle besides Professor Snape. He had never gone out of his way to be mean to me in particular, but if one of his buddies started something he would be sure to join in. When people found out about my abilities, I had been forced to read him in front of practically the whole school. I saw such pain and fear in his life that I nearly passed out. To prove to him that my abilities were real, he told me to tell him something from his past only he would know. I said “a talking diary and a ripped page from a bookstore”. Ever since then, he never challenged me again. And yet here he was now, invading my hidden corner, my escape from everyone.

We locked eyes as he walked in and we both froze. “What are you doing in here?” he asked sharply. I didn’t reply but simply began to get out and grab my things when his voice interrupted my actions. “I’m not gonna make you leave I was just asking. You looked dreadful during Potions today, are you ok?”. For the first time, his words and his tone matched and seemed genuine. “Everyone has been really loud today. Let's just say that if I never hear the sentence ‘is he gonna ask me to the Yule Ball’ again it will be too soon” I remarked. He chuckled and looked down at his shoes. I now became acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in front of him in just a bikini in a steamy room. My cheeks flushed and I slipped back into the tub. “Why are you in here Draco?” I asked. He looked up at me and sighed. “This is usually where I come to hide but I got here a bit later than usual, I didn’t think there was competition for this spot”. I frowned and looked away from him. “Yeah that’s my bad, I usually am in here much later in the day. It’s just been such a loud day already. I needed to decompress earlier than usual”. He walked closer to me, then circled the tub to sit on the window sill. After a few minutes he spoke. “Does it actually help quiet the world? To sit in there I mean”. He gestured to the tub. “Yes it does actually”. I replied.

This was the weirdest but nicest conversation I had ever had with him. I had never been fully alone with Draco before, was this how he was when he was removed from his asshole friends? In a moment of impulsive thought I blurted “You are welcome to join me if you’d like”. Shit. Why did I say that? This guy is literally the worst. “Wouldn’t that just add noise in your head?” he asked. “No, when its a group of ten or less I can actually turn everybody off quite easily. Anymore then that and it gets harder and harder”. He nodded and then looked out the window. I could see his mind working through his grey eyes, deciding if he would stay or go. Finally, he shrugged. “What the hell”. He kicked his shoes off and began to loosen his tie. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t help myself watch him undress. I finally looked away and closed my eyes, relaxing my head on the edge of the tub.

The tub was big enough around that he could sit on the other side and we wouldn’t touch. The water churned as he got it. He sat closer to me than I had anticipated but I tried not to think about it as I took a deep breath and let my mind wander. “This is surprisingly relaxing”. His voice for the first time didn’t sound as strained or coarse as normal. “How did you find out about this?” he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him, puzzled. “Have you never been in a jacuzzi?”. He shook his head. “Wow well that’s one thing wizards should definitely adopt from the muggle world” I replied, with a smile. He looked away from me quickly. Was that a hint of blush coming from his cheeks? Probably just from the heat of the water I rationalized. “Do you do this everyday?” he asked. “At least once a week. It's good for the soul”.

There was then a long period of silence. At first the silence was uncomfortable, but the longer it persisted, the more comfortable it became. A couple times I could have sworn that the water churned in a way that would indicate him moving closer to me. I didn’t dare check. I kept my eyes closed as the odd smile would flow across my face without thought. When I finally did open my eyes, he was less than two feet away from me. We locked eyes and I smiled. He gave a timid smile back before looking away again. I wanted to use my abilities to slip into his mind and hear what he was thinking but I held myself to a strict rule. “This seems like a pretty necessary time to use it” the voice in my head remarked. I physically shook my head to expel that thought from my mind. I felt his eyes on me. “I wasn’t inside your head by the way. I thought about it but decided that didn’t hold up with my rule so I shook it out of my head”. “You can if you want” he replied. I looked at him and sat up a bit. “My rule is I only purposefully do it if absolutely necessary or if the person gives me permission or asks me to do it. Are you asking me Draco?”.

The words flowed out of my mouth before I could filter them. Was that flirty? Did I just flirt with Draco? The thoughts swirled in my head only to be broken by his response. “Yes I am” he said sincerely. “Can I have your hand? It’s easier if I have physical contact”. I said. He nodded  and stared into my eyes as I moved closer to him. I clasped his hand and imagined his energy and thoughts flowing into my brain. His head was relatively quiet, besides one thought practically screaming. I opened my eyes and looked into his, stunned. “What was I thinking?” he asked in almost a whisper. I swallowed hard. “You were thinking ‘is it wrong that all I want to do is kiss her’”. I felt my cheeks turn red but I didn’t break eye contact. “Is it?” he asked. “No” I replied, unaware that a smile had crept across my face. He smiled back as his eyes darted from my eyes to my lips and back. I moved his hand which I was still holding to my cheek. His free hand moved underwater to my lower back as he pulled me onto his lap. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath. He moved his other hand to my waist as I cupped his cheeks with mine. In a tender moment, not overly embroiled with passion or lust, we kissed. It was innocent and sweet. It made everything else seem unimportant. It was as if time slowed to a stand still. After a few moments we both pulled away and shared a smile that became a laugh. “I can honestly say this is not how I thought my day was going to go” Draco chuckled. “Me neither” I added. Suddenly a thought popped into my head. “Wait what time is it?” I asked. He checked his watch. “Two o’clock, why?”. “Damn, I promised I would meet Ron for a game of wizard’s chess. I always beat him but he insists on constantly challenging me”. I started to pull away when I noticed his face drop slightly. I pulled close to him again. “I am not making up an excuse to run away from you. Believe me I don’t want to go but if I don’t Ron will come looking for me and this would be a hard situation to explain” I remarked with a chuckle. His face picked up a little. “Are you staying here over Christmas?”. “Yes I am” I replied. “I think I will too, I’ve recently started to fancy you and I kinda want to explore this without the pressure of the whole school being here, if that’s ok with you” he smiled. “I would like that”. “But for the moment we can’t tell anyone what happened here or that we are even friends” he remarked suddenly. “It’s not my favorite reputation to uphold but if my father finds out I am seeing or being seen with someone who is not a pure-blood..” he trailed off. I pulled his face close to mine again and looked deep into his eyes. “You don’t have to explain. Remember, when I read you two years ago? I saw all of your past. I understand why”. His eyes were sadder now but he still managed a small smile. “Ok now I really have to go” I said as I kissed him one more time before climbing out of the tub. He watched me as I changed back into my uniform, smiling a bit more smugly now. “When can I see you again?” he called after me as I walked towards the door. “Friday night, let’s meet in the common room. Everyone will be gone for Christmas by then”. “Its a date!”. I turned back and blew him a kiss which he caught and immediately pressed to his lips. My heart fluttered as I jogged to the Great Hall. “Oi, where’ve you been?” Ron questioned impatiently. “Sorry, got a bit caught up” I remarked, smiling at the secret Draco Malfoy and I now shared.

#draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x reader #harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts #harry potter au #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ron weasley #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #tom felton

[itsmaddienotmaddy]

Okay I was just fucking stressed out of my mind for a full ninety. Idk if I have a lot to say. Let’s SEE.

US V SWEDEN

Alyssa Angel Naeher - maaaaaybe should not have come out on that corner kick. And since she did, unsure why no defender chose to cover the line. They weren’t covering that tall ass Swedish player, so... they were free to. (Not like they would have guaranteed to save it, but there could have been an attempt.) I wouldn’t place the blame of that goal on Alyssa’s shoulder though. Especially because we would have been down by a lot more if not for her incredible saves.

Becky - got the captains armband back too late. She connects better when she’s left-central. It’s been like that most times Tierna slots in. Not much to say beyond that though. Like, she did the defense. As she does.

Tierna - a big test for her. Her clearances were good. She held people wide very well. I didn’t find myself yelling about her a lot, idk if she just wasn’t as involved or what. Either way. Love me some Baby T.

Crystal - held it down defensively. That’s never a surprise. The lack of connection between her Lindsey and Christen, the connection that WAS THRIVING before. Wasn’t there. Like. When Crystal was making the run, she wasn’t getting passes. And then the passes would come and she wasn’t making the run. But nice to see her get some minutes up top too!! Would have liked to see her be able to get some moves going.

Kelley - well Alexi Lalas kept saying how poor she did. She wasn’t balls to the wall amazing but it’s not like she was sucking out there. She was definitely committing too hard, biting at moves she shouldn’t have. The lunges had her a step behind, she needed to play some stand up defense. I’ve said time and time again, her and Lynn do not connect well and the offense on the right was non existent all first half unless Rose decided to carry the ball up the field. Kelley DID have some decent crosses, as per usual. And let’s be real. We all know it was slightly outside the box, but Kelley earned the foul. So, g’bless that little sock puppet peach. Driving the box and getting that penalty saved our score line.

Rosemary - I mean. She was DOING THINGS. Thank goodness. Her speed was on point today. She was running the ball down the field, breaking through lines, and she had that cracker of a shot. It’s a bummer that she came off since she was such a bright spot. But with the physicality of the game, you needed bodies to take up space and bulldoze and that’s exactly what a midfield of JJ, Lindsey, and Sam is good for.

Julie - a lot of defensive work for her this game, a few times there was a lack of communication with her and Kelley, but still pretty solid. Certainly lacking offensively, but got a couple good crosses off, won some good balls out of the air.

Lindsey - her and Aslani duking it out with each other was cute, ex-teammate fun. Certainly had bright spots throughout the game. Had really good spells of controlling the midfield, but her weighted balls and the angles of her passes through were off today. And she wasn’t given the opportunity to win offensive headers in the box. Like hello. Big giant scoring target. Would have been a good plan. Still had some silky moves, switched the side of play as to not overload, was always open for an outlet pass. Would have liked to see a bigger motivation to get a shot off. And to reiterate. Again. Her Christen and Crystal need to get back on their vibes.

Samantha - I don’t know if it would have made a difference if we had her in from the start, but it sure was a relief seeing her come onto the field. I think I was getting food during her one attempt on goal, so missed that. But never fully settled into the game. So that’s no fun. She’s been in spectacular form and I wish we could have utilized her sooner. How? Idk. Maybe a 4 person midfield? Coulda shoulda woulda.

Kristie - what position did she even come in as??? I was so confused. Not enough time to say much. But it really speaks to the US offensive productivity that Kristie got two shots on goal in her minimal time. Would have been rad AF if one of those chances had gone in.

Carli - 300 caps is cool. Credit where credit is due. But I just about lost my mind. Shots to the moon. Falling every time she got touched. Offsides. Heavy, heavy touches and lost possessions. This was not a game to celebrate for her and that’s too bad. Leaving her in that long was rough. AND the one time she should have been selfish and shot the ball, THAT WAS WHEN SHE PASSED. I could not deal.

Lynn - Gosh I want good things for Lynn. But today was not her day. She was lost out there and her decision making on when to turn on the wheels and when to make cuts and crosses, it wasn’t there. She wasn’t stretching the field either. She drifted central and it made an already congested middle, even more crowded. There was definitely a play where she was extremely IN THE WAY and thwarted a potential goal attempt. She did work back defensively and was successful in that. But. Another shot to the moon and not much else to speak on. I don’t know what she she needs to get a spark, but she needs one, bad.

Christen - I hate not being able to gush about Press. I always want her to be phenomenal. But her touches were heavy. Her moves weren’t as sharp. And Sweden was able to anticipate and cut off the angles of her passes. Maybe it was just an off day. Maybe it’s the knock she’s dealing with. But there was no zoom and typical Pressy cuts and it wasn’t fun. And for the last time. Her Lindsey and Crystal need to be on the same page again. Tooooo many miscommunications. You know what she did well though? DEFENSE. So, positive there.

Pinoe - was sooooo fucking happy when she came in. She really does provide a spark and a change of pace and play. There were definitely more opportunities once she came on. She connects well with Lindsey through the midfield so that was nice. AND EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU PINOE FOR BEING A FREAK OF NATURE AND BEING CLUTCH AT PKS.

And Alex - very happy to see the mother of Charles in the game. She’s going to need more minutes to get back to her peak game. She provided a new challenge for the Swedish defense and definitely was more dangerous than Carli, but never truly got all the way into the game. She did get some decent goal opportunities but... oh my god... that one PERFECT cross when literally NO ONE was there?? I screamed. That sucked. That would have been a sick assist.

Is that everyone? I think so. God. Overall, touches were too heavy and connections were off. We are lucky lucky lucky duckies to tie it up with a PK. But like everyone is saying. It’ll be a benefit in the long run to get the kinks out now. Have the shaky, not so good games, NOW. It’s the kick in the pants we need to peak during the Olympics.

Lol. I guess I did have a lot to say. No one should be surprised.

#uswnt #alyssa naeher #becky sauerbrunn #tierna davidson #crystal dunn #kelley o'hara #lindsey horan #rose lavelle #julie ertz #sam mewis #kristie mewis #lynn williams #carli lloyd #christen press #megan rapinoe #Alex Morgan

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 12

Click here if you are a first time reader.

Summary / TWs: Steve Rogers does not pass the vibe check yet again, le sad face. Loki is a good bro. Bruce fluff but what else is new? Literally everyone is a good bro, yo. Reader has best people. Tony's in there, kind of. Parents still suck.

For taglist: please send an ask if you changed your @! I noticed several people are unavailable :(

As always, my baby gay @miscmarvelwritings is the bestest beta!

"I think I am going to murder your father." Bucky's angry statement didn't surprise me. Neither did Steve's initial reaction, or anybody else's mostly pitying looks.

Bruce, my Bwucie, was calm and dejected. That worried me. I expected him to be at least a little bit green around the edges when Steve forcefully sat me down and made me explain the drunken, drugged stunt I'd done the night before, but alas, it seemed like Jolly Green was just sad. Or disappointed. And I didn't know which was worse.

The more I thought about it, the more defensive and abrasive I became. "And you'll kill yourself trying, he'll drive you fucking nuts" I responded to Barnes. "Honestly, I don't fucking see the problem here. My dad shows up five times a year at best. It's been like that forever. And it's not like I'm some kind of junkie," I defended myself, and my dad, because I really didn't see the huge deal about it. Relaxing once in a while doesn’t hurt anyone.

"It's not right!" Steve exclaimed, loosely banging a fist on the table. The self-righteous prick, seemed like he wanted to pick a fight just for the sake of it.

"And who are you, exactly, to say that? The moral police?" I blew up, standing and turning to the blonde man, hands on my hips. "Or you've decided to be my parent without asking me first? Keep your hopes up and maybe a fuck will magically appear, so I could give it to you."

He stood up in turn, getting uncomfortably close to my face. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was a very large, very strong man. "We want what's best for you! Can't you see it?" Rogers was getting red in the face, crossed arms, staring at me down like I was dirt under his shoes.

"How about..." I seethed, having to stop mid-sentence to swallow the scream that wanted to erupt. "How about... You FUCKING ask me what I want?"

"I suggest the Captain leave to go calm down," Loki suddenly piped up. He stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, picking at his food instead. Only after his sharply uttered words I noticed he had stood up. His hand hovered over my shoulder, body discreetly wedging between me and the Captain.

I heard Steve growl before he stormed off, throwing an annoyed look at Loki. A pregnant silence hung in the room. The longer it lasted, the more I wanted to crawl out of my skin, suddenly hyper aware of all these people - strangers, save a few - debating on what to do with me. Like I wasn't a person. Like...

"Ugh, fucking hell," I growled, beelining for my bag. I had definitely overstayed my welcome.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, standing up to follow.

"Home," I replied curtly, nodding my thanks to Loki for the intervention. He nodded back, walking off. I would have probably started swinging at the Icicle Dick if not for the raven haired Asgardian's timely interruption.

"I'll drive you," Banner trotted after me like a dejected puppy. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this, at all.

"I need to see Tony first. Meet you downstairs?"

Bruce nodded, looking even more confused.

Tony kissed me hungrily, in between promises to kill Steve and cancel my dad and get me my own apartment in the tower. Believing in fairy tales wasn't something I was ever prone to; I smiled, nodded along and did my best to shut him up with my own mouth on his. I left with the promise to text him as soon as I got home.

"How are you?" Bruce asked me as we once again drove through the busy city. This was becoming a nice habit but we really had to meet up when I wasn't going through another one of my turmoils.

"All things considered, I am great. Better than I've been in a while." I answered honestly, meaning it. However brief Tony's attention would be, it still satisfied me. Then and there I decided to always, always cherish what happened during my brief stint in his arms.

"Really?" Banner's warm smile was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. "Care to share?"

It threw me for a loop. I didn't know how much Tony wanted to disclose regarding what happened between us. I didn't know the extent of his friendship with Bruce. I didn't know...

"Tony," I choose the usual option. Admit what you can't deny, deny what you can't admit.

"I know the feeling," The good doctor chuckled, companionable-like and meaningful. "He tends to go all the way for the people he cares about. Too much, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" I was confused. Sure, me and Tony were friends. But not, like, super close or anything. We'd fucked, or more like messed around, so I expected our friendship to grow colder. That's what happened when friends decided to bump uglies.

"I mean... He'll move mountains and challenge the government and bully them into dropping charges against you," There was a hint of sadness in Brucie's voice. I vaguely recalled seeing something on the news, something about the Hulk and a massive destruction spree. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

I reached out, putting a hand on his knee. He covered my palm with his own, giving it a brief, warm squeeze.

"It must be great having a friend like that. You're both wonderful and brilliant. You deserve no less," The smile threatened to split my face in two.

Bruce returned the smile but the sadness didn't go away. "You realize that extends to you, right?"

"Me? I'm just me, Bruce." I wasn't sure where this was going. "I'm Peter's classmate and the resident hot mess express."

Bruce frowned, deep and long, up until he parked. Life seemed to be taking back all the happiness it gave me previously-in fucking buckets. The strap of my bag was going to get its threads pulled out with the way I was fiddling with it.

"Baby… Princess?" The scientist turned to me, tone torn somewhere between stern and pleading. "Listen to me. You are brilliant. Incredibly smart, talented and beautiful. Don't ever, ever think of yourself as less than any of us." I gaped at him.

Did he mean us as the Avengers? Us as Tony and Bruce? Meanwhile he continued, "In fact, I think you are the one who deserves so much better. I don't know what Tony found in me… Or what you found in me."

Was the man an idiot or yes? That was the question of the day. Cursing Tony's affinity for small cars (bless me and my own SUV), I only hesitated a moment before grabbing the dumb Banner by his face and startling him into looking straight in my eye. "If you don't quit talking all that fake-ass bullshit, I will kiss you. On the mouth. With tongue."

"Uh," Was his articulate response. I watched him squirm, blush and lose the heat to his argument.

"Exactly. I've had it all with you idiots today. Next time someone says some stupid ass fucking thing, I will kiss them. On the mouth, with tongue. Pass it on," I exhaled, releasing his face and dropping my head onto his shoulder.

"Some way of solving conflict you have," Banner chuckled weakly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'd like to see Steve's reaction."

"A boner, probably, because he needs to get laid before he spontaneously combusts," I grumbled venomously, still bitter about his reaction. The Capsicle needed to chill. Hehe.

"I'll pass it on too," Bruce remarked wryly. "See you next week?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bwucie, you're the fucking best," I kissed the scientist on the cheek, giving him a tighter than usual parting hug and walking up the pathway. Home.

Mother was nowhere to be seen - and the obvious reason for that laid on the kitchen floor. Couple of smashed dishes, a bottle of whiskey laying half-empty in a puddle on the grey tiles. The living room rug bore more stains and the smell of alcohol, bitter and acrid (like my soul, hardy har), hung heavily throughout the whole house.

At least I wasn't the only one who fought for myself that day. Mother probably had landed a good one on dad, too, by God the woman could be ruthless with her icy words. Dad never stood a chance. I've felt begrudgingly respectful of the way mother put people in their place with her words ever since I understood sarcasm.

First things first, I cleaned up the mess and opened the windows a smidge, cranking the air recuperation system to the max. Hanging around a place that smelled like a bum on a good Friday night was a horrible way to spend free time. Having successfully cut myself and bandaged the cuts up, I retreated to my room, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the quiet, stinky, creepy house that my home had become.

My phone was long dead so I plugged it in, waiting for the 2% to appear, turning it on. A few messages from Peter, first cheerful, then worried and then relieved. Tony must've placated the spider child and told him I was staying at the tower. Good call, Tones, or else poor Peter would've worked himself into an anxiety attack and crashed in a dumpster while patrolling. Or something. I still didn't quite get his spider-hero side-gig.

A text from Bruce - rather, a photo, of a disgruntled Steve with his eyebrows raised, titled "I told him the next time he freaks out, you will kiss him. With tongue. Barnes cackled for about ten minutes until he ran out of air."

And a text from Tony. My chest tightened when I opened it. "Good tactics. Sneaky, clever, I'd give it a B+."

I snorted. Then the phone beeped again and I froze. A text ordering me to be ready tomorrow, for a date night? Unreal. I was torn. A part of me was elated, thinking Tony wanted to keep me around like that. The other, more sensible part, was firmly telling me to chill TF down. He'll most likely kindly reject any further intimate interactions, maybe have me sign a few NDAs.

I still answered positive, mushy and cute and all. Feelings aside, I wasn't about to change my texting style for any man. My God, I was turning into a monster. A horribly cheesy, pink, soft, fluffy monster.

The next day, school was nearly unbearable. People talked. Not to my face, of course, since the rumours of me putting away Flash Thompson were still fresh enough for everyone to be cautious around me, but the whispers followed me throughout hallways, tongue in cheek remarks thrown at me from the bathroom stalls, behind the teacher's desks. Did I care? Nope.

Okay, I did, but not in the way one would think. The little spring in my step, a slight smirk. My thoughts were occupied with my upcoming dinner with Tony.

Peter and his pet nerds stood at my side, the ever watchful guards. I had no idea why they decided I needed reassurance or their comfort (I did not), but I had to admit it was cute. MJ, in particular, glared her Death Ray Stare at any male-identifying student that dared to as much as look wrongly in my direction. I mostly ignored the trio. Pete himself did a great job with entertaining his friends, he babbled on as usual, about everything and nothing in particular. Mouth ulcers. He was going to get them one day.

Dad called me during third period, saying he was flying off to California. I would have been lying if I said I didn't know why he scheduled the sudden trip; mother's total radio silence and the absence of her laptop in her own office spoke volumes about the state of my family's affairs. They had a fight and ran off to the opposite ends of the continent. I didn't understand why mother was upset with me, though. I saved her face during dinner at Tony's, so why is she mad about me going to a party with dad? Baffling woman.

Admitting the house felt like home when either of them were absent was hard. Or, perhaps, I felt nothing at all. Spending so much time around the Brady Bunch- the Avengers made me too soft for my own liking. It wasn't just Tony that lived in mind rent-free all the time now; there was Bruce, with his kindness, Bucky with his overgrown teenager attitude, Wanda with her wit and hair that smelled like cheap shampoo - seriously, I absolutely had to show her the benefits of decent hair products. That was just to list the few little quirks. There were so many people, all of them different and wonderful in their own way.

To summarize it, I was both happy for them and bitter for not having any of that to myself. Although it made me kind of glad I didn't have a sibling - looking after someone in the mess that mother and dad created would've been a nightmare. They say it's always a better place where we are not.

I went through a whole pack of cigarettes in a span of a couple of hours. Plagued by strangely melancholic thoughts, trying to push down the anxiety over my upcoming date, my choice of outfit proved to be a cumbersome task while in process.

Expensive but simple dress with spaghetti straps, in my favourite colour. That was the easiest part. A good base for any accessories. Would Tony like it? Would the press make outrageous comments?

Either way, it would. Dad's comments cut deeper than I probably realized it until now; in a sudden bout of self-awareness and a couple of mouse clicks later... Tony wouldn't care. Tony wears suits with sneakers. The Manolos flew back, towards my shoe closet, and a pair of Chanel trainers made their debut. A Hermes 2002 barely weighed down by my wallet, keys and phone. A nice coat, too, appropriately light and so very conceptual and fashionable.

I spent way too much time deciding on what to wear. A stern talking to, however, didn't help me, and I had to redo my make-up - the "nude", "all natural" look was one of the hardest to nail. Or so Marie Claire said. Whatever, my highlighter game was, as usual, on point.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)!

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

[ofclaires]

IV. CLAIRE WALSH

PAST SELF PARAS: april 2020 / september 2020 / march 2021. 

hi, before the read more i just wanted to say THANK YOU. getting to play claire has been absolutely a treat, a challenge, and genuinely, a huge part of my life for the past year and a half or so. it occurred to me when writing this and looking back at other things i’ve written for claire that i didn’t just feel like i was writing this for myself or for claire ; but i was writing it for you guys, too ! that has been one of the most special things about gallagher for me is the writing community that i feel like we built, taking such a huge investment in our characters and everyone else’s writing. i feel like i’m writing with and for some of my best friends. i also feel like i’ve grown so much ( ok, i actually don’t just feel like it, i can look back at those three paras and SEE how my writing has improved. ) i am so blessed to have gotten to write claire with all of you and to share her story, i feel like she has been so fucking beloved & it’s given her so much life. i am so proud of her and it’s really bittersweet that i’m finally saying goodbye to her as well. so, thank you all so, so much, gallagher has been a writing experience like no other for me & i love you all ! 

trigger warnings : domestic violence & abuse, death

PART ONE: CHILDHOOD.

The trailer that Claire spent the back half of her childhood in never felt like home. Maybe because trailers are made to be temporary, or the fact that if she accepted that this was where she belonged, she’d have to give up hope.

It’s normal Maggie Walsh to be out late, Claire’s usually cleaned up the kitchen and tucked herself into bed by the time her mother comes in the door – but she’s not sleeping. She’s always had trouble with that, brain bouncing around from one thought to the next until eventually she hears the creak of the door.

Her mom’s home.

She hears the usual stumbling, the clatter of dishes falling from where she’d neatly placed them on the drying rack. Maggie’s drunk, Claire’s sure of that. Ten years old and she knows what it means to be so drunk that you can hardly see straight, that the words you say under the influence are a different reflection from the person that you really are. She inhales deeply and crawls out from under the covers to check on her. Ten years old and she knows the steps: Help her take her makeup off, make sure she sleeps on her side, glass of water on the bedside table, trash can on the floor. Maggie is only twenty-six years old herself now, not done with her childhood by the time that Claire was born, not ready to be a mother. Claire’s had to figure it out most of it herself.

“Mom?” Claire knocks on the door lightly, plastic cup full of water already in hand.

“Don’t – don’t come in!” Maggie sputters, and Claire’s confused. She defies her request and opens the bedroom door the rest of the way. When she sees her mom, she drops the cup on the floor, small hands curling into fists.

“What happened? Who did that to you?”

“I told you not to come in here, Claire,” Maggie repeats, but Claire has always been on to disregard commands. She learns at a young age that authority only means older than you or some assigned title, not that they know best.

“Who did that? Why?” She repeats her questions. Despite being mature for her age, it’s hard for Claire to wrap her head around the black eye obscuring Maggie’s face, and the swelling on her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie sighs, dejected as she flops down on the bed. Even in her state, she knows that there’s not much use telling Claire to back off or go away once she’s decided that she’s not going to. Her little girl is a spitfire, strangely enough reminds Maggie a lot of her own mom, like living with a miniature version of her. Maybe that’s why Claire wins most arguments. “Come here.”

Claire walks closer to the bed, kicking the cup aside on her way for no reason other than to kick something. She crawls into bed next to her mom and looks up at her, waiting for more of an explanation or literally anything but silence. 

“I don’t know why I keep looking for a happy ending. I leave you home alone, I come home like this...not helping either of us,” Maggie presses a kiss to the top of Claire’s head, runs her fingers through her daughter’s hair. It’s so soft and Claire is so little, she can’t help but look at the spilled cup on the floor with a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she adds, voice choked up and words a little slurred. Tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes when she closes them, hugging her daughter closer, “I’ve blamed you for my fucked up life for so long...that’s not fair.”

Now, Claire is only ten, but those are the kind of words that you remember forever. Still, she smiles. “It doesn’t have to stay fucked up. It can get better,” a childish spark of optimism in her heart that hasn’t yet been put out. It makes Maggie smile back though, kissing her daughter on the top of her head yet again.

“I like that,” she says, and they fall asleep curled up beside each other. Claire sleeps soundly, thinking that it’s possible. Things really could get better, and for a while, it seems like there really is a sort of shift. Maggie starts cooking, cleaning again, and she doesn’t even stay out so late. That’s when she meets Martin.

He seems better than the rest. Until he isn’t.

But Claire does her job as her mother’s protector, just as she’s been doing all of her life, and it’s that event that jumpstarts the rest of everything that happens next.

PART TWO: GRADUATION.

Claire’s come to the formal conclusion that graduation ceremonies are a waste of time. There’s all this build up, everyone’s so excited, and then you have to sit around and wait for your name to be called so you can spend two seconds walking across a stage while everyone claps. She would have skipped it entirely if her mother hadn’t already come up, and if she knew that people were going to insist. The small talk afterward is even more agonizing than the ceremony itself. It is sort of painful saying goodbye to everyone, and it occurs to Claire that there’s more people that she’s going to miss than she ever expected.

“Callum and his mother are here,” Maggie points out.

“And?” Claire rolls her eyes. Seeing Callum again to begin with had brought up a lot of old feelings, and generally, even though they’d resolved things, she tries to avoid him whenever possible.

“Well, it’s probably weird if we don’t say hello, at least, right? I’m going to say hello,” Maggie interjects, “he’s such a sweet boy.”

Claire’s eyebrows rise on her forehead as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Go ahead then,” she sighs, “I’ll wait right here.”

“Claire,” Maggie draws out her name with a withering stare, but Maggie has never been able to establish that sort of authority with Claire that would prompt any inclination of obedience, so Claire just shrugs her shoulders, unimpressed. She’s not going to budge. “Fine, I’ll be right back.”

Claire’s done her best to put the chapter of their life that includes Martin out of her mind when rekindling things with her mother, and she certainly doesn’t want to stand around making small talk with his other ex-wife, trying not to look at Callum with his matching jawline, trying not to remember everything she hates. It all comes back in a flash. The horrible cracking sound that her mother’s head had made when it connected with the wall, the blood on the marble floor. They say you don’t remember trauma properly, that your memory doesn’t work quite right, but she will never forget the way her fist connected with Martin’s face : like a puzzle piece, like it BELONGED there, and she’d done it over and over again until she heard sirens.

And yet, Claire can’t deny that it’s a part of her life that got her here, where she is today. She thinks life is shitty and random, and that not everything has to happen ‘for a reason.’ Still, she’ll catch Kass’s eye across the room and see her smiling so brightly that it seems impossible not to believe in something. Claire can’t help herself anyway – she smiles back. No one has ever been able to produce Claire’s smile in its truest form the way Kass has, unashamed of being so happy to look at someone. She once thought the idea of looking at a person and seeing your whole future was ridiculous, that you’d have to be stupid to put that much of yourself into someone, but it isn’t like that at all. All of it was unintentional, like by the time she realized it, Kass was already everything. And she feels so safe with that thought that she doesn’t mind at all.

“Am I interrupting something?” A figure steps in front of her, cutting off her line of sight. She’s not really fond of being snuck up on, so she opens her mouth to say something snarky when she’s met with the gaze of Lisanna Harlin, one of last year’s mentors. Her daughter, Elisa, is there, but she’s not graduating, so Claire’s confused by Lisanna’s presence.

“No, Ms. Harlin,” Claire says, though there’s a spark of indignation in her words that practically goes hand in hand whenever an adult commands authority.

“Lisanna is fine,” she says with a light laugh, like she’s amused Claire’s greeted her this way.

“Can I...help you with something?” Claire asks, mostly curious about how long this interaction has gone on. While she’s friendly with Elisa, she was Kass’s roommate last year, they’re not exceedingly close, so she’s not sure what else Lisanna would have to say to her other than maybe a polite hello.

It’s more than a polite hello. Lisanna Harlin works for Lexon Corp in Durham, North Carolina, a private military company that provides armed guards, bodyguards, and guns for hire. They’re the sort of place that would be looking for the best of the best in combat, and they have a bit of a reputation for hiring Gallagher girls. Claire had given up on the job search months ago since the video went out, in fact, she’s had a job lined up for graduation already : at a boxing gym in D.C., where the scene isn’t too bad. It was suited to her, but not exactly the sort of thing that her Gallagher education had prepared her for. Lexon Corp? Everything her rigorous love of January boot camps were tailored to. And they want to interview her.

A month later, Claire’s sitting on the cusp of a completely fresh start. It wasn’t easy to backtrack on the plans that she and Kass had made together, knowing how much was changing for the both of them, it had been nice to have the stable idea of an apartment together on the horizon. Now, she’s a four hour drive away, and she goes home to her one-bedroom studio in Durham after rigorous training throughout the day. But she’s grateful for the chance to work her way back into the field, and she can remember what Lisanna said to her when they gave her the offer.

“We’re aware that with your history that we’re taking a chance on you, Claire,” Lisanna said. “But we think the reasons that made other agencies look past you are exactly what makes you an asset. You care about your jobs, the people that you’re involved in, and you’d have a partner’s back until the bitter end. You listen to your intuition, trust your gut...and above all else, you have follow-through. I’m excited to be able to offer this position. Don’t prove me wrong.”

Claire swears that she won’t.  

PART THREE: KIPTYN.

Kiptyn isn’t supposed to be in the left hall closet. 

In fact, he’s not supposed to be awake at all. But who can sleep the night before their birthday anyway? Sure, he’ll be thirteen, and that’s probably old enough to have gotten over the magic of it all, but...he’d still been lying awake with excitement, the anticipation keeping his eyes open for hours on end. Well, that and the video game he’d been playing under the covers, but he’d obviously only been playing it because he couldn’t sleep in the first place.

Then he started thinking about the left hall closet and the conversation that they had at dinner the other night. In Kiptyn’s defense, Dahvia – his younger sister – had totally started it and he was an innocent bystander. After all, Kiptyn’s old enough to know that they don’t bring up Claire to mom, because it just puts her in a mood and then you can forget about doing anything else for the rest of the evening. But Dahvia’s ten, practically a baby, and she doesn’t know any better.

“Hey, mom? What sort of accident did Claire die in? Nina asked me at recess and I didn’t know,” Dahvia pipes up, before she’s even properly sat down. Kip visibly cringes. He’s older, wiser, knows this won’t go well. Still, he dares to look at his mom’s face and he notes the faraway look in her eye, like she seems to experience a bunch of things at once. Kip notices how even though her eyes are glassy, she doesn’t cry. Though sometimes, their mom will just cry randomly, like two weeks ago when he asked for help with his Spanish homework and she couldn’t even help him finish the first worksheet.

“It was a car accident,” she says stiffly, “eat your dinner.”

Kiptyn kicks his sister under the table and flashes her a look that says : Great. Look what you did, ruined dinner. Dahvia sticks her tongue out at him.

So, he knows that he’s not supposed to be in the left hall closet because he could ruin many more dinners, but he’s here anyway. He’s been thinking about it ever since they sat in silence for the rest of that half hour, and he’s come to the conclusion – his mother was lying. Because all sorts of things make their mother cry, like a bowl of mac and cheese or Spanish class, or motorcycles, and she won’t let Kiptyn take boxing lessons though his friend Robert is and he thought it sounded really cool, but she doesn’t have any problem with cars or driving, and also, she’s never told them a single thing about Claire except that. They aren’t allowed to know anything about her, especially not anything true, so Kiptyn is pretty sure that’s a lie. There’s just something just weird about it.

So, in the middle of the night before his thirteenth birthday, he looks up a video on how you pick locks and then he figures it out on the door of the left hall closet. He’s there for at least forty-five minutes, practically ready to give it all up when he hears the clicking sound, and then it opens. His first thought is : Woah. This is a load of junk.

And he’s right. There’s boxes upon boxes of paperwork, old clothes. Some things start to click, like when he finds a pair of worn boxing gloves with Claire’s initials embroidered on them. His favorite thing that he finds is the fattest scrapbook he’s ever seen – his mom always makes them, there’s one for every year of his life. Dahvia’s too, they love looking at them. The cover of this one, though, says Italy 2021. It’s all pictures of his mom and Claire, probably in their early twenties. Kiptyn mostly notices his mother’s smile, how he’s only seen her look like that a couple times in his life and yet it looks so EASY here, like she wears it all the time. It’s so strange to him. He sets the scrapbook down and crawls toward the back of the closet. His eyes land on two leather folders with gold embroidery, and he opens up the first one. In big letters at the top : GALLAGHER ACADEMY.

It’s a diploma.

This certifies that Kassandra Sutton has satisfactorily completed the…

“What are you doing?”

Kiptyn yells out like a child, not having heard anyone creeping up on him. He claps his hand over his mouth as if to shush himself. “The door was open! I don’t know how, but I just...noticed it was open and wanted to make sure that...no one was stealing your stuff!” he grins sheepishly, hoping that he can ride on the high of his birthday week to get him out of this one.

“It was just...open?” his mother looks down at him with raised eyebrows before brandishing a twisted paper clip between two fingers. The one that had formerly been stuck in the door. His guilty expression widens, he can’t help it.

“Okay, I might know how it opened,” Kiptyn admits. He hesitates for a moment, before he realizes that he’s ALREADY in trouble, he might as well just come out with it and pray to the birthday gods. He holds up the diploma with her name on it : “What’s Gallagher Academy?”

Kass’s sigh is heavy and deep, accompanied by the amount of exhaustion that comes with raising two curious kids by herself. After Claire died, she moved her family to London to be closer to their aunt and away from everything that reminded her of Claire. She never told her children why. From hiding that world from them, the world that took so many people from her : her father, her ex-girlfriend, and the love of her life. She swore that she would never lose her children to it, too. But Kiptyn looks up at her with wide eyes, desperate to know about his mother and his past, and Kass also knows what it’s like to have part of yourself missing due to family secrets that are being kept from you. He is practically a teenager now. So, she relents.

Kass doesn’t go into all of the details, of course. Just that Gallagher Academy was a school for spies, and that’s where it all started. Kiptyn already knew that his moms met in college, so it’s the spy part that’s most interesting to him. She talks about Claire with a light in her eyes he’s unfamiliar with, how she was one of the best fighters in their year, that she grew up with such a talent in the ring that she probably could’ve gone pro if her life had gone in a different direction. She talks about how they had to part ways after graduation, because Claire got a job in North Carolina and she got a job in Washington, DC, but they made it work, and both got very accustomed to the four hour drive – though it was sometimes closer to three for Claire, because she always drove too fast, even on this big, black motorcycle which Kass swears that she hated. She tells Kiptyn about how they got married, the way she’d almost moved to England for a dream job and that long distance threatened to drive them apart again – until Claire chased her down in the airport with a ring and proposal.  

She also talks about how Claire really died : the abridged version. It was an overseas mission where they’d been cornered, and Claire risked her life to save the rest of their team. There were no other casualties, and the information they were able to bring back helped stop the terrorist organization they’d been chasing to end them for good. Kass tells the abridged version for her son, gives Claire a hero’s death. In some ways, it was. She doesn’t mention the ways that Claire was consumed by the case, it was an organization hellbent on killing spies and it likely reminded her of the brotherhood. Kass had been worried about the case the whole time, because it felt like Claire was taking it too personally. In the end, she may have been right : because Claire had let it take her life in order to close it. She also doesn’t mention that such a sacrificial death means that her wife died fighting alone, swinging her fists until her very last breath. But still, she was all alone.

She had no choice but to take her kids as far away from that life as possible.

Kiptyn tries, but he doesn’t really remember Claire. He’d only been three years old when she passed away, and before then, she’d been so consumed by her last case that she was barely present. Still, he thinks she sounds badass.

He falls asleep on his mother’s shoulder that night, looking through the scrapbook of pictures from their trip to Italy in 2021. He’s animated for the first part, pointing out buildings and asking questions, wonders if Claire was sweating in all that leather, but he slowly starts to drift off. He wakes up on the couch the next morning, no trace of the book or any of the other papers he’d hauled out of the closet the night before. He looks at the closet and there’s an extra padlock. Figures.

It comes up in little ways, like a private joke that he has with his mother, like she’ll say something and flash him a secretive smile. He likes that, and he understands that this is a big secret that he has to keep. It doesn’t come up again until his fourteenth birthday the next year, the summer before high school. It’s a strange letter in a manila envelope, sealed with some expensive red wax, his name written in fancy calligraphy. The most attention-grabbing part, however, is not Kiptyn Sutton-Walsh in big cursive letters. It’s the return address :

GALLAGHER ACADEMY.

learn her skills, honor her sword. keep her secrets.

#* #self para

[monotonous-minutia]

Benvenuto Cellini in 300 lines or fewer

for the lovely and incredibly patient @notyouraveragejulie, as requested! Happy Cellini-versary! took me long enough, but decided to get it done today to honor the occasion :)

Act I Scene I

Balducci’s house

Balducci: Teresa what are you doing looking out the window I told you never to look out the window. Besides I need you to listen to my rant. Can you BELIEVE what the Pope has just told me? He’s hired that delinquent Cellini to make his new statue instead of Fieramosca. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

Teresa: Maybe you could if it wasn’t so big.

Balducci: What?

Teresa: Nothing.

(Balducci exits)

Teresa: Ugh FINALLY I hate listening to his rants. )goes back to look out the window)

Masqueraders outside: LALALALA IT’S CARNIVAL THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR

(Balducci comes back and sees Teresa at the window)

Balducci: TERESA WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT STAYING AWAY FROM THE WINDOW what is even going on down there? I bet it’s that Cellini whipping everyone into a frenzy. Ugh, Carnival. (exits again)

Teresa: (goes to the window and is immediately showered with flowers) I don’t care what my dad says, hanging out by the window is fun. I love flowers. Oh hey, a note from Cellini! What? He’s coming here? Oh, that’ll be risky. But hey, dad’s out of the house, what could go wrong? Y’know, it’s kinda hard, dealing with all this—feeling like I have to listen to my dad, but wanting to indulge in the affections of my beloved. When I’m older, old like my parents, maybe I’ll be responsible, but right now I’m young, and I deserve to have some fun! Girls just wanna have fun!

Cellini: (appearing at the window) TERESA MY BELOVED

Teresa: Cellini, I love you, but it’s too dangerous for you to be here. What if my dad catches us?

Cellini: But look, it’s carnival, and it’s so gay! And I mean that like happy, but y’know, it’s pretty gay too. Besides, I love you. Why do you turn me away?

Teresa: Well, I just got done singing this empowering feminist aria, but unfortunately reality hits and I remember that it’s 1532 and I basically have no rights, so it’s best for you to forget me and move on.

Fieramosca: (sneaking in carrying a huge bouquet) The best way to a woman’s heart is with a cool sneak-in plan and a bunch of flowers. Hang on, is that Cellini talking to my Teresa?

Cellini: How am I supposed to just leave you behind? Let you be forced into the arms of that Fieramosca?

Teresa: I’d rather die than marry Fieramosca!

Fieramosca: …I just came here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.

Cellini: Okay, so, how about this: Come to the new opera Cassandro is presenting tomorrow night. While your dad is distracted, my apprentice and I will sneak over disguised as friars and spirit you away! We’ll go to Florence and live happily ever after! Nothing could possibly go wrong!

Fieramosca: Hmm, interesting plan. It would be a shame if someone were to...interfere.

Teresa: Sounds foolproof. But hang on, my dad is coming back. You have to hide!

(Cellini hides behind the door. Fieramosca hides in Teresa’s bedroom. Balducci somes back.)

Balducci: Teresa, what are you up to? Are you talking to people? How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not allowed to have a life?

Teresa: (distracting him so Cellini can sneak out) DAD THERE’S A MAN IN MY BEDROOM

Balducci: What??? Let me see!

(Balducci goes into Teresa's bedroom and comes out dragging Fieramosca) I can’t believe this! This is so inappropriate, Fieramosca, how dare you?

Fieramosca: No, wait, let me explain! I just came to visit! Cellini is the real rascal!

Teresa: Oh the poor man is raving mad.

Balducci: I will not stand for this! Servants, come here! Let’s teach this seducer a lesson!

Servants: OH YEAAAHHHHH LET’S STICK HIM IN THE FOUNTAIN

Fieramosca: NO WAIT

Teresa: This is the best thing ever.

Act I Scene II

Piazza Colonna

Cellini: I can’t wait to elope with Teresa!

(A bunch of Cellini’s friends and students come in)

Chorus: LALALALALA LET’S GET SLOSHED

Cellini: Yes, but for god’s sake none of those ridiculous drinking songs. Let’s sing about the glory of metal-workers!

Everyone: YEAH GLORY TO THE METAL-WORKERS!! WE’RE THE BEST WE WORK WITH METAL THAT SPARKLES LIKE JEWELS AND RIPPLES LIKE FLOWERS AND IS MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN BOTH OF THOSE PUT TOGETHER

Bernardino: Alright folks, let’s drink up!

Innkeeper: Sorry lads, not until you pay your tab.

Cellini: Okay who’s got the cash? …nobody? Well this is a nice little pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into.

Ascanio: (enters carrying a bag of money) ASCANIO TO THE RESCUE

Everybody: YEAHHH VIVA ASCANIO

Ascanio: Okay hold your horses folks, before you spend this money, you have to realize where it’s coming from. It’s a down payment on that statue you’re supposed to build. Cellini, remember you promised the Pope you’d make that statue?

Cellini: Ugh, don’t remind me.

Ascanio: It’s literally my job to remind you.

Cellini: Fiiiiine I promise I’ll finish the statue.

Ascanio: Okay, cool. Here’s the money.

Cellini: Here you go, you troublesome little man, now give us our drinks.

(He gives the Innkeeper the money.)

Cellini: Okay, now that we all have had our libations, let’s talk revenge. You know that guy Balducci who’s always disrespecting me and trying to keep me away from my girlfriend? Well, I have a plan for Carnival where we can humiliate him in front of everyone as payback!

Everyone else: Sounds like a great time! We’re in.

Everyone: Yeah!! A curse on that guy! And while you’re at it, honor to the metal-workers again!!

Ascanio: That’s such a bop where’d it come from?

Cellini: We made it up while you were gone.

Ascanio: I always miss the fun stuff.

(they all leave to get ready; Fieramosca, who was eavesdropping, comes out into the open)

Fieramosca: Ugh, look at them all, plotting against my future!

Pompeo: (entering) Hey boo! What's with the long face?

Fieramosca: Alas, Pompeo, my only friend! What a week it's been! First off, I got an impromptu and very much unwanted bath at Balducci’s yesterday. And as if that weren’t enough, now Cellini and his apprentice are going to abduct my girl!

Pompeo: That’s actually not a bad idea.

Fieramosca: What do you mean?? You want him to steal Teresa from me?

Pompeo: No, the getting in disguise and abducting her part! Why don’t WE just don those same disguises and get her ourselves?

Fieramosca: Ohhh, I get it! What a great idea! Although I must admit, I am a little scared of what Cellini might do if he catches me in the act.

Pompeo: What you think he’s actually going to stab somebody? Here, let’s practice sword fighting so you’re prepared if he does try to pull anything funny.

Fieramosca: Good idea! (they practice sword fighting) HA LOOK AT ME, WHO WOULD EVER DARE CHALLENGE ME, ALL Y’ALL PEASANTS GET OUT OF MY WAY, I’M THE ROUGHEST TOUGHEST GUY YOU EVER DID SEE. Oh, Teresa, I wish you could know just how much my heart burns for you! I’ll be damned if I let that rascal Cellini come between us.

(They leave to get ready. Balducci enters with Teresa as the Piazza begins to fill with people)

Balducci: Well, Teresa, I hope you’re happy. I’ve decided to suffer through this vulgar comedy so you can stop nagging me about not letting you go to Carnival.

Teresa: I’ll never forget your sacrifice, dad. (Come to think, it DOES make me feel a little guilty to be running away from home...is it fair to leave him all by himself?)

Cellini and Ascanio: (dressed as monks) Quickly and quietly, let’s get down to business! The plot is about to start!

Chorus or Troupers: COME, GOOD PEOPLE OF ROME!! COME AND SEE OUR SHOW!!

People: THIS IS SO MUCH FUN CARNIVAL IS AWESOME

Troupers: Let the show begin! (They start a pantomime featuring a parody of Balducci and the Pope)

Balducci: What fresh nonsense is this?

Teresa: Uhhh maybe we should go?

People: SHUT UP AND WATCH THE SHOW

Balducci: You know what? I’m going to suffer through this whole thing and then go tell the Pope how you’re all mocking him! Because he and I talk all the time I guess.

People: WE SAID SHUT UP JUST WATCH THE SHOW

Cellini: Ascanio, can you see Teresa?

Ascanio: Nope but I see someone else trying to interfere with our plans!

People: HAHAHA WATCH THE SHOW THIS IS SO FUNNY LOOK AT HARLEQUIN LOOK AT THE OLD MAN HAHAHA

Balducci: I’M GOING TO TELL ON ALL OF YOU

Teresa: Dad, stop, you’re just riling them up!

Balducci: THAT’S IT I’VE HAD ENOUGH COME GET A TASTE OF MY WRATH (he runs onstage wielding his cane)

People: HAHAHA THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER

Fieramosca: Come on, Pompeo, let’s sneak over and grab Teresa!

Cellini: Come on, Ascanio, let’s sneak over and grab Teresa!

Fieramosca: Teresa, it’s me! Come with me!

Cellini: Teresa, it’s me! Come with me!

Teresa: ??? I don’t know who is who!

Cellini: Come with me!

Fieramosca: Come with me!

Teresa: You know, when I imagined myself falling in love, I never thought I’d have two fake monks vying for my attention.

Ascanio: WE’VE BEEN HAD YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS (starts chasing Fieramosca)

Cellini: Get out of my way! Cut it out! (He and Pompeo fight; Cellini stabs Pompeo.)

Pompeo: Oh, I’m dead! (He dies.)

People: OMG SOMEBODY DIED CALL 911 I CAN’T BELIEVE A MONK JUST KILLED A GUY WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO WE LIVE IN

Fieramosca: OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST KILLED MY BOYFRIEND

Teresa: OMG CELLINI

Balducci: OMG A DEAD MAN TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Cellini: OMG I’M REALLY IN TROUBLE NOW

Ascanio: Well, that happened.

(General chaos ensues; Cellini’s students help him escape. Amidst the mayhem Balducci bumps into Fieramosca, and, thanks to his white monk costume, mistakes him for the murderer)

Balducci: I FOUND HIM I FOUND THE MURDERER

Fieramosca: ...are you telling me this is the second time in as many days I’m being accused of something that Cellini did?

Ascanio: Come on, Teresa, let’s get out of here!

Teresa: You don’t have to tell me twice! (They both run off.)

Act II Scene I

Cellini’s workshop

Teresa: Oh my gosh what a catastrophe! I hope Cellini is okay!

Ascanio: Have faith! My master is not one to let a silly little murder accusation get him down. I mean, he did actually kill the guy, but I’m sure it will all work itself out. Have faith!

Teresa: Let’s pray for his safe return! (She and Ascanio sing a very pretty prayer; Cellini busts into the workshop)

Cellini: HONEY I’M HOME

Teresa and Ascanio: OMG YAYY YOU’RE ALIVE

Cellini: It was a close call! Everyone was running after me with daggers and calling out for my blood! I thought for sure I was done for, but I managed to evade the crowd and find a place to hide, but passed clean out in the process. It was just my fortune that as I came to my senses, as group of white monks were walking past! I joined their procession and no one was the wiser. God led them right to you!

Teresa: OMG that’s such a harrowing adventure! I’ve got goosebumps.

Ascanio: And you’re sure this is 100% accurate, with no embellishments?

Cellini: What do you take me for? Now, come on, we’ve got to get out of here before they come after us again.

Ascanio: Whoops, they’re already here.

Balducci: Cellini, you scoundrel, abductor, murderer, and general all-around-annoying person! Relinquish my daughter. It’s time for her to unite with her husband, Fieramosca.

Cellini: OVER MY DEAD BODY

Ascanio: Don’t give them any ideas!

Balducci: Come on, Fieramosca, claim your bride!

Teresa: DAD NOOOOO

Fieramosca: Uh...I don’t want to cause a scene…

(The Pope enters with his retinue)

Everybody: OH SHI--OH DEAR IT’S THE POPE

Pope: Rise, rise, my children! Relish in my holiness, but don’t hurt yourselves.

Balducci and Fieramosca: Oh your Holiness, please grant us your assistance! That rascal Cellini has tarnished Teresa’s honor.

Cellini: Come on, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.

Pope: Well well, well, Cellini, this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten in trouble with me, is it? For example, where’s my statue? The one I commissioned you to make?

Cellini: Well...it’s not quite done yet.

Pope: Are you saying I should find someone else to cast the statue instead?

Cellini: WHAT?? HOW DARE YOU!! SOMEONE ELSE CAST M STATUE?? I’D RATHER DIE THAN SEE SOME AMETURE DARE TO PUT THEIR GRUBBY LITTLE FINGERS ON MY MASTERWORK

Everyone else: Are you seriously yelling at the Pope????

Pope: Arrest this man!

Cellini: YOU ARREST ME AND I WILL DESTROY THIS MODEL RIGHT HERE THEN NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO FINISH THE STATUE! NOBODY!! NOBODY!!

Pope: How dare you threaten me? What’s it going to take to calm you down?

Cellini: I want full forgiveness for all my crimes up till this point. Wipe my record clean.

Pope: Fine, fine.

Cellini: ALSO I want Teresa.

Balducci and Fieramosca: WHAT??? Your Holiness can’t possibly be considering this.

Cellini: I ALSO want more time to finish the statue.

Pope: …you know my weakness for art; fine, fine, I can’t really say no.

Balducci and Fieramosca: What audacity! But we’ll see who has the last laugh.

Teresa: Oh, what a fateful day!

Ascanio: Look at my master, he’s so clever and devious!

Pope: Okay, Cellini, here’s the deal. Finish the statue by tomorrow, and you’ll get all that you asked for. If you can’t finish it in time, you’ll be hanged.

Cellini: Fine!

Balducci and Fieramosca: He’s on the brink of ruin! We’ll see who wins this one!

Teresa: He’s doomed, alas! There’s nothing left for me in this world! Luckily I'm not going to end my life based on this notion like most operatic heroines, but I still feel dread in my heart!

Cellini: I’ve got to win this!

Ascanio: Come one boss you’re the best you got this!!!!

Act II Scene II

Cellini’s Foundry

Ascanio: TRALALALALALA….idk what I’m feeling...I’m happy, then I’m sad, then I’m crying, then I’m laughing, then I’m singing! Must be the hormones. Or the stress...our little bronze boy is finally getting finished today! But there’s a lot on the line. On one hand, I’m all scared that we’ll fail and my poor master will be hanged; on the other hand I can’t help laughing over how ridiculous the whole situation is...I mean, did you SEE the way my master stood up to the Pope?? Anyway, I better start getting ready. Tralalala! (He exits)

Cellini: What have I gotten myself into? How did I expect to finish this statue on time? All of Rome has its eyes on me

Ascanio: *Hamilton chorus voice* history has its eyes on youuuu

Cellini: What?

Ascanio: Nothing. I’m not here.

Cellini: Ah, why can’t I be a simple shepherd, whiling my life peacefully away in the mountains?

Chorus outside: Oooh!! here’s a grim old sea shanty

Cellini: I wish they’d stop! Nothing good ever happens when they sing that song!

Ascanio: (coming back) Not that song again!

Cellini: Take heart! We’re like sailors ourselves, but our sea is made of metal! Let’s get to work!

Fieramosca: NOT SO FAST!! I demand justice! Cellini, I challenge you to a duel! No need for all those sword-fighting lessons to go to waste.

Cellini: Someone finally grew a pair, eh? Fine, let’s duel right here.

Fieramosca: Not here! If I kill you in your own place, I’m a murderer. Meet me behind St. Anthony’s cloister.

Cellini: I’ll see you there!

(Fieramosca leaves; Teresa enters)

Ascanio: Here’s your sword, boss!

Teresa: Omg Cellini are you going to a duel??

Cellini: Relax, it’s just Fieramosca. (exit with Ascanio.)

Teresa: What if it’s an ambush????

Cellini’s workers (storming in) THAT’S IT WE’RE GOING ON STRIKE THESE WORKING CONDITIONS SUCK

Teresa: Oh heavens! What’s this ruckus? Come on, folks, just wait for Cellini to come back and talk about it!

Workers: NOPE WE’RE OUTTA HERE

(Fieramosca walks in)

Teresa: OMG FIERAMOSCA IS BACK WITHOUT CELLINI THAT MEANS CELLINI IS DEAD HE KILLED CELLINI (faints)

Workers: YOU KILLED OUR BOSS???

Fieramosca: What? No! Geez, this really is not my week. I’m just here to offer you the raise Cellini won’t give you.

Workers: NOPE WE’RE LOYAL TO CELLINI FORGET WHAT WE JUST SAID GET OUTTA HERE YOU RASCAL

Cellini: (coming back) What’s going on?

Teresa: (awake) OMG YOU’RE ALIVE

Cellini: ...was that ever in question? Oh, hey, Fieramosca, you’re just in time to help build the statue! Here’s an apron, get to work.

Fieramosca: What? I--

Everyone else: Get to work, or you’ll be taking another impromptu bath, but this time it’ll be in a sea of molten metal!

Fieramosca: YIKES! Okay, lead the way.

Everyone: COME ON LADS LET’S GET TO WORK

(the workers and Fieramosca head to the forge. Balducci enters with the Pope.)

Balducci: Teresa! What are you doing here?

Teresa: Uh, funny story.

Pope: So, Cellini, is my statue done yet?

Cellini: Nope, but it will be very soon.

Balducci: We’ll see about that.

Pope: You better be right.

Fieramosca: (running in) We need more metal for the statue!

Cellini: What, are you messing up my statue?? Let me go see (he runs to the forge)

Balducci: Fieramosca? What are you doing wearing an apron?

Fieramosca: Would you believe me if I said I got a new job?

Cellini: (coming back) Haha nothing to see here! Everything is going according to plan! We just need a bit more metal, that’s all, no biggie.

Workers: Just one problem: There is no more metal. And the fire’s going out. If we don’t get more metal in there quick, the whole thing will be ruined!

Balducci: Well, well, well, looks like I’m winning!

Cellini: NO THIS IS NOT THE END I REFUSE TO GIVE UP! Everyone, just grab anything metal and throw it in there!

Workers: What?? Even all your old work?

Cellini: I SAID EVERYTHING DIDN’T I

(Cellini, the workers, and Ascanio all start grabbing metal things and throwing them into the furnace)

Teresa: I can’t handle this stress!!

Pope: I can’t believe the nerve of this guy! Is it possible he could actually succeed?

(An explosion comes from the forge)

Cellini: OMG THIS IS IT I’M DONE FOR

Workers: WOOHOO WE DID IT LONG LIVE CELLINI

Cellini: We did it??

Workers: VICTORY! VICTORY!! LOOK AT THE STATUE ISN'T IT AMAZING

Fieramosca: CELLINI WE DID IT HOW ABOUT A HUG

Cellini: ...how about no

Pope: Well, Cellini, I didn't think I was going to be able to say this, but you made good on your word. I officially pardon your sins, and bless your marriage to Teresa. (He leaves.)

Cellini: YAYY TERESA

Teresa: YAYY CELLINI

Everyone: VICTORY!! LONG LIVE CELLINI!! IMMORTAL GLORY! GLORY TO THE METAL-WORKERS!!!!

The End

#Benvenuto Cellini #abbreviated operas #Hector Berlioz #Léon de Wailly #Henri Auguste Barbier #opera #opera tag

[erin-bo-berin]

Riot

MASTERLIST

Surprise, I’m back guys with more fics! I was so happy when I finally was in the right mood and headspace to get some writiing done, I had missed it dearly. I also missed being able to share my work with you guys. This was an older request by @theitcaramelchick​ for the reader to meet Spencer at a sort of animal activist event. I apologize for it taking me so long to post, but I spent a little extra time perfecting this one than most. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Word Count: 1,885

Rating: G (fluff)

Spencer grumbled as the SUV pulled closer to the crowd of people.

He thought of the earlier conversation he’d had with Emily Prentiss, his supervisor and boss, the unit chief of the BAU.

Now, when it came to the BAU, you’d automatically think the team would always work on cases involving serial killers, profiling them, planning take downs, saving lives. This current assignment he had wasn’t part of his credentials.

“Emily, I should be here to help out with the case,” he pleaded.

“And you will be.”

“But why do I have to do this when you need me here?”

Emily gave him a look.

“Spence, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“We catch serial killers, not supervise protests.”

“It’s not supervising. You’re just there to keep the peace. Besides, Anderson was going to do it but his wife just went into labor so I obviously can’t send him.”

Spencer had to bite back the groan he felt like releasing. 

“All you have to do is just make sure no one is harmed, no crime is committed and that it remains peaceful on both sides,” Emily instructed, “It shows that the FBI cares about matters like these and has an interest in all parties’ safety. It will take a few hours, tops.”

He sighed heavily. 

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Thanks,” she grinned, patting his arm, “See you soon.”

That was how he was roped into “supervising” this protest.

Spencer had no idea what it was for, but when the SUV pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned looking building all he saw was a lot of chaos.

Well, this would be fun.

•

“Okay everyone back up!”

Spencer grimaced as he attempted to make his way through the throng of people.

Shouts from officers rang in his ears as did the protesting voices from the crowd. If only he could get closer to see what was actually going on, he might be of more use.

He finally made it to the front of the crowd where one, aggressive police officer was tightly gripping the arm of a girl. He couldn’t see the rest of the girl other than the arm that was bright red where the officer’s hand was clasped.

“Hey, hey!” he rushed forward, “There’s no need to be so hostile,” he told the burly cop.

The man narrowed his eyes at Spencer, scrutinizing him.

“Who are you?”

Spencer pulled out his badge, showing him.

“SSA Spencer Reid from the FBI. You know, the Federal Bureau of Investigation? You might have heard of us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the woman’s eyes widen at his statement.

“What’s the feds doing here?”

“To help keep the peace. Which you definitely don’t seem to be doing. Do I need to make a report to your superiors,” he squinted at the man’s name tag, “Officer Graham?”

A sour look crossed his face.

“No. You can take it from here, agent.”

The man all but stomped away leaving Spencer alone with the woman.

“I’m sorry about that ma’am, he had no right to-” he froze, mid-sentence, when he turned towards the woman.

She was wrapped with chains like prisoners he’d seen put away. But instead of them restraining the criminals, these chains connected her to something.

She was chained to the building behind her.

He was quite literally standing in front of a woman who had chained herself to a building.

A quite attractive woman, at that.

•

You peered dubiously at the agent as he stared at you, mouth hanging open.

“You trying to catch some flies in that venus flytrap of yours?” you asked.

He closed his mouth quickly, snapping out of it.

“Uh, why was he rough handling you?”

“Maybe because I happen to be chained to a building.”

“Yeah, that’d make a lot of sense,” he mumbled, his gaze still lingering over your restraints.

He still looked like he couldn’t believe what was happening. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.

“Um,” he licked his lips, his eyes squinting at you a tiny bit, “Why exactly are you chained to a building?”

You sighed.

“You wouldn’t understand. Anyway, I’m fine. You can go now.”

“Try me,” he challenged, folding his arms.

In truth, Spencer was intrigued.

“I don’t want them to tear down this animal shelter. The city wants to tear it down to build apartments here.”

“And that’s bad?” Spencer asked, quirking an eyebrow.

You huffed, annoyed.

“Yes. It is. I told you that you wouldn’t understand. Anyway, the officer was trying to forcefully remove me and stop the protest now that the contractors decided to save the building, but I can’t move.”

“Why not?”

“I might’ve accidentally lost the key to the padlock and I can’t get out. Officer Graham thought I was lying just to be a nuisance, but I’m actually stuck.”

“Well…” Spencer paused, holding back a smile, “I have to say at least you’re dedicated.”

“I’m pretty proud of it if I do say so myself,” you chuckled a bit.

“Hey, um, would you like me to help though? I could get someone here faster than anyone else here could.”

“Yes, please. I really don’t want to spend the night stuck here.”

“One second.”

Spencer excused himself, dialing a familiar phone number.

“Hey Spence, how’s it going?” Emily asked from the other side of the phone.

“It’s going. Do you know if Rossi still has that pair of bolt cutters in his car?”

“Uh...I’m not sure? Why?”

“It’s a long story. If he does, can you ask him if he’d mind running them out here to me?”

“Sure.”

He can hear Emily’s hesitation and he assured her everything was fine and that he’d explain later.

The girl was glaring and hollering at someone when he returned.

“What was that about?”

“Oh just some people who think animal activists are scum. They’re just mad the city responded to us and decided to keep the shelter open.”

“Tell me, why this place? Not to be rude, but it’s pretty worn down.”

He braced himself for the girl to yell at him for saying such a thing, but it didn’t happen. In fact, you just looked sad.

“I used to volunteer here. I still help out every now and then, but it is getting pretty run down. I wanted to save it because I want to help restore it. Whether it’s raising money to help restore it or actually physically helping with it, I wanted to be a part of it. This shelter has helped so many abandoned animals. Cats, dogs, bunnies. It was such a rewarding feeling taking care of them and seeing them being adopted out to a good family. I want it to stay here.”

“Wow,” he said, moved by your dedication to the shelter, “That’s amazing.”

“I guess,” you shrugged, “Most people find us irritating or a nuisance.”

The crowd of protesters had begun to thin, leaving a far less amount of people then there had been when he’d arrived.

“If it helps any, I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s brave what you and your friends did. Plus you won the battle. I mean you even chained yourself to a building.”

You broke into a grin, laughing.

“You’re still not over that, are you?”

“It’s gonna take a while,” he chuckled.

“So, are you really an FBI agent or did you just say that to annoy officer Graham?”

“I actually am.”

“Jeez, you think what I do is brave,” you mumbled.

“It’s not all that bad,” he said, “Okay, maybe it is.”

You gave him a knowing look and he broke into a smile. It was a rather gorgeous smile at that, showing off a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. You couldn’t remember the last time you met a guy with such a genuine, contagious smile.

“So how did the FBI get roped into appearing at a riot?”

“That’s a long story.”

You looked down at the chain around your waist, then back up at him.

“Well I’m not exactly going anywhere and I’ve got time.”

Your statement dripped with sarcasm and it made him laugh again. You couldn’t help but smile at it. He had a nice laugh as well. You suddenly had the irrational urge to make him laugh again.

He didn’t argue any further though and dove into the story.

He had just finished it up when an older gentleman came running up to the guy that you’d been talking to for the last half hour

“He’s with you I’m guessing?” you nodded towards the other man.

The second man eyed you curiously before turning back to the agent you’d been bonding with.

“Should I even ask, Reid?”

“Uh, I’ll explain later Rossi. Thanks for bringing the bolt cutters.”

He took them and you tried to suppress a grin when you noticed him give the other agent a shooing motion, as if trying to get him to leave. You acted like you didn’t notice though, even though you heard the salt and pepper man mutter something to him.

“Details later, huh?”

With a quick look that you sure meant for him to scram, he turned back to you, the other man walking away from the two of you.

It took a few good hard squeezes of the bolt cutters to finally break the chain, but it finally gave way. You were pretty sure you’d never take advantage of freedom ever again.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping away from the tangle of the chains, briefly losing your balance.

His hand was on your arm, steadying you.

“So, um. Thank you for everything today,” you smiled slightly, “Especially for listening. Not many people bother to do that.”

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed it, oddly. But I never got your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Spencer,” he smiled at you.

“Well thank you again, Spencer.”

You turned to grab your things that you’d set aside earlier in the day. Picking them up, you turned to head for your car when he stopped you.

“Wait!”

You looked back over your shoulder, curiously.

“Would it be okay if I, uh, take you out some time? Maybe we can talk more about you wanting to help the shelter. If you want to, that is.”

You shouldered your backpack that’d been in your hands and turned to fully face him.

“I’d love to.”

He smiled, holding out a hand for your backpack.

“I can carry those to your car, if you need help.”

You obliged, picking up the rest of the signs and posters you’d created for people to hold today. It was a good feeling knowing that these signs had been put to good use and helped you and your friends save the shelter. Not only had that occurred, but you had met Spencer as well.

“You know you remind me a lot of a friend of mine,” he stated as the two of you walked towards your car.

“Oh? Is that a good thing?”

“Definitely. I have a feeling she’d love you and love to help you with your cause, if you don’t mind some extra hands occasionally.”

“Never can get enough of those,” you replied, earnestly.

“Good because I can’t wait to introduce you to the outstanding Penelope Garcia.”

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​ @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​ @multifandommandy​

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Dr Reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid gif #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gif #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[cynergy-laughter]

Obey Me! One Master to Abridge Them All! Ep. 5

5. Rewind... Rewind... Rewind...

Leviathan: W-What?! No, that doesn’t happen!

MC: Uh, yeah it does.

Diavolo: Enn doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would lie about something so detailed... I think we know who the winner is...

Leviathan: No... NNOOOOO! *changes into demon form* You shouldn’t know any of this! You are just a newbie wannabe! You got into TSL in such a short time, and now this... I will not accept this... I will not recognize you as a fan!!! *runs at Enn*

MC: Oh shi- *falls down* Mammon!

Mammon: I’m comin- GAH! *slips on some melted ice cream* Dammit! I can’t get there in time... run!

Levi: I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED BY A NORMIE!!! *reaches out hands to wring Enn’s neck*

*Freeze!*

MC: *voiceover* This is me, I know what you’re thinking, this is a huge jump from the last time we left off. Oh dang... I look so scared at that frame... who even got that angle of me? Well they deserve a raise... uhh anywho, you’re probably wondering how I got here... well good, fleeting audience, I shall tell you how.

*rewinds two days and two nights ago*

MC: *groaning, brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed* I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that garlic and ghost pepper devil potato salad... best potato salad I’ve ever had, but feels like a detox coming out... *sprays and finishes up in the bathroom*

???: H-Help... Help me...

MC: *eyes widen* Oh please tell me I’m not in a bathroom fever dream...

???: Please... help... follow my voice...

MC: ... Yeah, cause that always goes well...

*follows to the attic stairs anyway*

Lucifer: *pops up out of nowhere* Go back now. There’s nothing up there for you.

MC: For me? Now you’ve piqued my interest.

Lucifer: Well there’s nothing at the peak for you, go back to your room. Don’t ever go up to the attic.

MC: How do you spell attic, by the way?

Lucifer: ... A-T-T-I-C.

MC: Ah! You naughty boy, why were you looking down there?! *puts hands over chest* My eyes are up here.

Lucifer: *blinks and blushed mad, realizing what he just said* Room. Now.

MC: *tries not to laugh as they go to their room*

—————

MC: *sitting at breakfast, alone with Mammon, zoned out*

Mammon: Hey! Are you even listening to me?!

MC: Hmm? Oh, sorry, as soon you started talking crap about me I kinda just turned your ranting into background noise.

Mammon: ...Well... don’t do that, you don’t just skip over The Great Talkative Mammon’s dialogue, that’s rude.

MC: Did you... really just add another adjective to your Name Title?

Mammon: Yeah, what you gonna argue with The Great Infallible Mammon?

MC: I literally made you enter a pact with me two nights ago.

Mammon: Shut up! Gah! Why did I have to be the one who be paired with you. It’s all Levi’s fault that I’m with you in the first place... no, it’s all Lucifer’s fault... none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him...

MC: *sighs, and goes on another daydream, he wanted to know how to get past Lucifer*

*Earlier last night*

MC: *Casually walks toward the stairs* Hey Lucifer, can I see what’s upstairs, please?

Lucifer: No.

MC: tch, almost had him... *walks back to room*

*present*

Mammon: ...Lucifer’s color scheme reminds me of those OP DeviousArtsy original characters, like Red and Black? Seriously? Get a better outfit, especially if you’re gonna wear brown shoes, why can’t you wear black, you’re already wearing so much of it! Oh and to top it off, his feet reek... not that I’ve... ever smelled them... but I’m saying it, so it’s true-

MC: Mammon, what’s in the attic?

Mammon: Don’t change the subject, right now we’re discussing Lucifer’s feet, which, by the way, freaking stin- wait what?

MC: ... Mammon. Attic. What’s up there?

Mammon: ... Geez, you really don’t know how to mind your business do you?

MC: I do, but I feel like I’m already more involved than anyone could ever realize...

—————

Mammon: *walking with Enn to Levi’s room* If you wanna get past Lucifer and find out what’s in the attic... You’ll need something that Lucifer wants, and I think I know just who to go to for that something...

MC: *looks at Levi’s room door* ... So why the hell are we outside the Ultimate Otaku’s door? What does he have that Lucifer wants?

Mammon: *whispering* There’s a record of the limited cursed edition of the TSL soundtrack in there, he absolutely loves it, so we just gotta ask Levi for it, it’ll be easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

MC: One, don’t ever say that again. Two, I don’t know how easy it’s gonna be since Levi wants nothing to do with me, and three... oh what the hell. *knocks on the door*

Levi: What’s the secret phrase?

MC: *looks at Mammon* Yeah, Mammon, this sure is gonna be lemon squeezy.

Mammon: Okay, Levi, let us in, it’s The Great Older Brother Mammon, and his pact slave.

MC: *leers at Mammon* You’re about to be the Great Fat-Lipped Mammon in a minute.

Mammon: *shied away a couple of steps* At least capitalize the T in the word The...

Levi: I am known by someone outside the door as the Ultimate Otaku, and to gain entry, you must say the secret phrase.

Mammon: *leers at Enn* So great, he was listening the whole time, and you’re calling me names?

MC: Ugh... umm... Rurichan is bae? Mammon’s an idiot? Enn’s a Normie?

Levi: ... while it is all true, bzzt! Wrong! Access denied.

Solomon: *appears behind them* Well, if it isn’t the celebrity and his newfound pet demon~.

MC: *jumps up, and holds Mammon close to them* Get the hell outta here, Goblin King, we ain’t wishing for nothing.

Solomon: *smirks* Sorry for scaring you, Enn. *knocks on the door* The fifth lord...

Levi: ...couldn’t keep his huge rod in his pants and took the Lord of Corruption’s wife to bed...

Solomon: And for the betrayal done unto his home...

Levi: The Lord of Corruption named him the Lord of Lechery, and cursed him with eternal unattainable climax. Secret phrase approved, welcome to my kingdom.

Solomon: *smirks* Peace out suckas. *hits the whip, and nae-naes backward into Levi’s room*

MC: *still holding Mammon protectively* So the Goblin King had an invitation?

Mammon: *blushing* ... You do know that was the secret phrase right?

MC: ... *knocks on the door* The Fifth Lord-

Levi: Bzzzt! The password has been reset! Bitch you thought! Next time know more about TSL before you try me, normie!

MC: *growls and bangs on the door* GAH! Go to Heaven you K-Pop Justin Bieber!

Mammon: Enn! ENN! Don’t, you don’t wanna get in trouble with Lucifer, not this early in the year... *pulls Enn away*

Levi: *with in the room* You see what I have to deal with? The violent life of the yucky otaku.

Solomon: Hmm...

*interviews*

Solomon: *bursts out laughing* PFFFTHAHAHAHA! K-Pop Justin B-Beihihiberrrr! Oh my god, I have to text that to Asmo... *starts texting* Man, as belligerent as Enn is, they sure know how to roast someone...

MC: Don’t worry, this makes day 4 that he hasn’t noticed. But... I have to find a way to get him to give me the record... God, I don’t know what it is with Levi, he just knows how to push my buttons... have I let him get to me?

—————

Mammon: So... why am I gonna be watching this with that human... and Beel... why are you here?

Beel: A Movie marathon means popcorn, and I had a craving.

Mammon: ... Of course you did.

MC: *comes in with a huge tub of popcorn* Alright, a huge tub of popcorn, extra butter and salt for Beel, a pack of chocolate coins for Mammon, and a sensible bowl of popcorn and soda for myself. Oh, I also made all of us slushees.

Mammon: *blinks* slushees? What are those?

MC: It’s cherry and blue raspberry.

Beel: *eyes widen* Why is it that you continue to amaze me with your snacks?

Mammon: Did you really just ask that question? Did YOU... just ask that question? The bigger question is how did you make these?

MC: Not important. Alright boys, 12 hours ain’t gonna watch itself, let’s get ready... The Tale of The Seven Lords... *presses Play*

————— The next day...

Levi: Human.

MC: *looks at Levi* Wow, look at who decided to grace us with his presence after spending his whole day in his room.

Levi: Don’t talk down to me just cause you have all the time in the world to do what you want, like having a TSL marathon. Totally not fair by the way.

Mammon: Wow, talk about nosy, were you spying on us?

Levi: No, Golden Moron, I heard it from Lucifer.

MC: First of all, don’t steal my joke, I worked hard for that, and second of all, for someone who minds his business, you sure do like knowing everyone else’s.

Levi: I don’t want to hear you talking especially since you are the ruler of not minding your business! Just cause you’re trying to suck up to me, doesn’t mean we’re gonna be all buddy-buddy. So get it through your thick head.

MC: Leviathan, I challenge you to a TSL Fan-Off.

Levi: *blinks* Excuse me? Are you serious? You really think that you, a human normie is gonna out-fan me?! LMMFAO! That’s not even a contest.

MC: Wow, I never knew you were a chicken, Levi.

Levi: ... what?

MC: I’m just saying if you had your own fursona, it would be a chicken. Ba-GAWK!

Levi: ... You take that back. I would N E V E R !

MC: Because you already are Levi, just cause you didn’t accept. An Otaku Chicken, I can see the Fanart now!

Levi: You know what, I was gonna spare you the embarrassment, but now I’m gonna make it my goal to destroy you in that Fan-off, human. When I’m finished with you, your time in the Devildom will be cut short. But, if by some odd miracle you best me, I’ll join Mammon as one of your pacts. Not like it’s ever gonna happen, I mean, I’ve only been following TSL all of a millennia. And that, compared to your 12 hour marathon, should speak to how much more knowledge I have of TSL than you. So let’s see who Fans off more. Student Council hall, today after school, and don’t chicken out.

MC: Heh, just I eat chicken doesn’t mean I am one. I’ll see you then.

*there was an intense stare down, until there was a loud cackling from upstairs*

Asmo: BWAHAHAHA! K-Pop Justin Beiber, I’m done! Solomon, I am done with you! AAAHH! YAAASS!

#obey me #one master to rule them all #one master to abridge them all #obey me main character #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #parody #abridged series #obey me comedy #comedy skit #comedy #drama #finally #i hope you enjoy #love you all #i love the bois

[galactic-magick]

The Wedding: Logan x Reader

Summary: You attend Janus and Patton’s wedding and some things get said.

Words: 2200+                                        

Warnings: swears, lots of kiss kiss

Author’s Notes: I know I said I was taking a break from writing but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head hahaha but now I’m actually gonna take a break cuz college or whatever

Taglist: @luluwinchester​ @nerve-ous-love​ @zarieslayer​ @amayaisokay​

-

-

-

You’re so happy for them. The smiles on both of their faces as they kiss really says it all, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted for them. They both look so excited and handsome, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen Janus so cheerful. They’re truly meant for each other, even though it took them a while to realize.

You’re standing next to the other sides and they’re all having very different reactions. Roman has a few tears running down his cheeks, Virgil has the slightest smirk across his lips, and Remus is clapping and cheering.

Logan you can’t really read, he looks happy, but there’s something else. Something deep in his eyes, something longing.

Or maybe that’s just what you wish you could see.

Weddings always seem to bring about thoughts about people’s own love lives, and you’re no exception. You’ve been crushing on Logan for what feels like forever, but you’ve never made a move or told him about it. You can’t help but imagine what it would be like if you were up there with him, vowing to spend your lives together. You’re not even sure if he’d date you, let alone marry you, yet it never hurts to daydream…

“Are you alright?” Logan must’ve noticed you zoned out.

You blink a few times and smile, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,”

The happy couple walks back down the aisle towards the reception room and the other sides start to follow.

“May I?” Logan holds out his arm to you.

You nod and hang onto him, following the others.

It’s just a simple act of politeness, but your heart pounding in your chest says otherwise. He looks fantastic in a suit and being so close to him gives you chills, all you can hope is that you can get through this night and still be able to breathe.

You can’t imagine him ever being this crazy about you, even if he does possess some feelings for you. It seems silly to wish for some insane romantic time tonight, especially since you’re supposed to be focused on the literal marriage that just happened. You’re just going to have to ignore how ridiculously hot he is for a few hours. No problem.

Logan lets you go to help with the music and lights, and the party starts. Everyone rushes to congratulate Janus and Patton, then flock to the dance floor and food tables.

You grab a slice of cake and take a seat, not quite ready to talk to a bunch of people yet. Of course you know quite a lot of the people here, but there’s still some you don’t and honestly small talk isn’t really your favorite thing.

“Enjoying your cake?” Logan settles down next to you.

“Please don’t tell me you came all the way over here to lecture me on how unhealthy it is,”

“What? Of course not,” he takes a bite of his own. “Indulging in sweets on occasion within moderation can have a variety of benefits for your mental and emotional well-being,”

“Ah, good to know,”

“Do you…” he hesitates. “Do you really think that’s all I do? Lecture people about bad habits?”

“No! I mean, yeah, you do that a lot, but I was just joking,”

“Well I sincerely apologize regardless,”

“Oh…thank you,” you finish your cake and gaze at the small crowd of people that have gathered in the center of the room, dancing about and having a good time. The music switches between slow and peppy, since no one could decide if slow dancing or mosh pits were better. Remus for one doesn’t seems to care which, he hasn’t stopped twerking since you came in here.

“Marriage is so strange, isn���t it?”

“How so?” you ask.

“Not strange in a negative sense of course, it’s just because it’s so unexplainable. Life is full of figurative twists and turns yet somehow against all odds two people can find each other and decide to stay with each other for the foreseeable future; and they’re so sure about it that they’re willing to make it legally binding. Fascinating,”

“Would you ever do that?” you look up at him. “Get married?”

“I’m not opposed to the idea, but I doubt anyone would want me as a husband,” he chuckles. “I’ve been told I’m not the best romantic,”

“By who, Roman?” you laugh. “He just has extremely high standards for that kind of stuff,”

“I suppose so. What about you?”

I would for you, your mind echoes, although you could never say it out loud.

“I think so, but I don’t think I’m the greatest quality spouse material either,”

The guests get a bit louder so you go over to see what’s up. Patton and Janus have started doing some toasts, and each of the sides and other close friends are giving short speeches about them. They had asked if you wanted to give one as well, but everything you wanted to say was already covered by the others and you don’t particularly want to talk to a large crowd.

Roman’s speech makes nearly everyone cry, Virgil’s is surprisingly sweet and Remus’s makes everyone laugh.

Logan steps up to the front of the room with a microphone for his, “As many of you know being sentimental is not my strength, but I assure you that this union is a true blessing to this world,” he looks to them. “Patton, you’ve been a dear friend to me for many years, and I know you will be an even better husband. Janus, you’ve changed the lives of not only Patton but all of us, and I’m sure that you will continue to challenge more in this new stage of your life. I wish you both the best,”

Every one claps and cheers and then goes back to dancing and socializing. As much as you’re having fun, after a while you’re a bit exhausted so you stay on the side of the room watching. You don’t want to leave, but this environment is getting overwhelming.

“There’s a spare room down the hall, you know,” Logan comes up behind you, making you jump.

“What?”

“There’s an empty room at this venue that just has extra tables and chairs. You appear a little uneasy so I thought I’d let you know in case you wanted to get away from the noise for a while,”

“Oh my gosh, yes,” you sigh. He offers you his hand and you take it probably a little too quickly. He takes you down there and shuts the door.

You run over to one of the stacks of chairs and sit on the top one, dangling your legs. The air is a lot cooler in here, most likely because there’s not as much body heat from tons of people. There’s only a couple lights so it’s pretty dim, but not so much that you can’t see everything.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” you say.

“Would you rather me leave?”

“No!” you shake your head. “I just don’t want you to miss the party,”

“I’m sure I won’t be missing anything significant,”

“Were you not having fun?”

“I was enjoying myself yes,” he lets out a breath. “I just feel, at least I think I feel…somewhat out of place,”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,”

“No, no,” you reach out for his hand again. “Tell me,”

He looks into your eyes, searching for something, anything. Answers, something to explain the strange sensation in his heart, “What does love feel like?”

You lean back a bit, not expecting such a question from him, “Well, it’s different for everyone. There’s familial and platonic love of course, but each of those can feel very different from romantic love and other kinds of attraction. Which one do you mean?”

“What Janus and Patton have,” he says it as if it’s some strong force of physics that he can’t wait to understand.

“I mean, even romantic love varies from person to person. Sometimes it feels like a burning passion, and sometimes it feels like they’re the only thing in the world that calms you down. It can feel like a best friend or it can feel like someone you want to learn more and more about every day,”

“So you’ve felt it? Love?”

“I think so, but it’s not really the same when the other person doesn’t love you back,” your eyes fall to the floor.

“Why wouldn’t they love you back?”

“Well sometimes things just don’t work out, sometimes the feeling doesn’t go both ways,” you shrug. “Why are you asking me all this?”

His eyes squint a bit, and he’s silent for a moment.

“I think I feel love,” he finally says.

“You do?”

“I wasn’t sure what it was, but after today and what you said, I’m fairly certain it is,”

“Wow! That’s um…great,” you’re not quite sure what to say. The man you’ve been fantasizing about all evening is talking about feeling true love for the first time, and it’s probably not even for you. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“You,”

It is you?

“What?” you croak.

“I feel love for you,” he coughs. “I mean, I love you. That’s how you phrase it, right?”

“I-“

“I understand if you do not feel it too. You said the person you feel love for does not love you back, correct?”

“Well I…I didn’t know that you loved me back-“

He rests his hand on your knee, “Don’t worry. The knowledge of my feelings shouldn’t get in the way of another. Have you considered asking this person if they also possess feelings for you?”

“What? Logan no-“ Does he really not get it?

Without giving a second thought, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you, smashing your lips onto his. His are stiff but soon soften, and you can practically feel him realizing what’s going on. His hand slides up a bit and grips your thigh and the other strokes your face ever so softly.

You separate slightly, just enough that you can see his expression.

“Ah. So I’m the one you thought didn’t love you back,” he grins.

“Yeah…”

“I think I like it, this love concept,” he licks his lips. “I see what all the fuss is about now,”

“It is pretty cool I guess,” you giggle.

He leans in again and steals another kiss, “I like those too,”

“We can definitely do more of that,”

“Let’s go then,” he grabs your legs and wraps them around his torso, holding onto you tight.

You grip onto him for dear life as he lifts you off the stack of chairs, “Wait where are we going?”

He opens the door and goes back down the hall, running into the others.

“Logan? What’s going on?” Roman asks.

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s kidnapping Y/N,” Virgil rolls his eyes.

“What?!”

“Nah, we’re just gonna go makeout!” you call, and their shocked faces are the last thing you see as you turn the corner.

Before you know it you’re in the backseat of Logan’s car with his lips on yours again. For a guy who just came to terms with his feelings he’s an unbelievable kisser, and honestly you haven’t even fully comprehended what’s happening. You’re just going with the flow, and neither of you can get enough.

He doesn’t seem to get bored of even the smallest things, kissing your lips, holding your face and your hands. He takes his time, he’s nervous and a bit unsure of how everything’s supposed to work but he’s determined to make you feel loved.

And you do.

You never would’ve thought you’d be pressed against the seat of Logan Sanders’ car by the end of tonight, but here you are, and you’re not complaining.

“Is this okay?” he stops. “People who love each other do this, correct?”

You run your fingers through his hair, “Yeah, this is what people who love each other do,” you smile.

“Remarkable,” his knuckles glide along your jaw. “We should do this every day then,”

“Definitely,”

He starts kissing you again, this time trailing down your neck.

You look out the window and see some movement outside. It’s dark out so you’re not sure, but it looks like people are walking towards you.

“Logan, wait,” you gently push him off of you.

“What’s wrong?”

Roman, Remus, and Virgil approach the car.

“What do you guys think you’re doing? Janus and Patton just left for their honeymoon and we need to help clean up!” Roman scolds.

“I think they were fucking,” Remus snickers.

“No we weren’t! Not yet- I mean, no! Not at all!” you stammer.

Virgil huffs, “You guys have been making heart eyes at each other all night, am I really the only one who’s not surprised?”

“Yes, Virgil, you are!” Roman growls. “Look, I don’t care what you guys wanna do later, can you at least help pack up the leftover food and the sound stuff?”

“Of course, Roman,” Logan nods, opening the door.

They all head back inside, you and Logan close behind hand in hand.

“I feel kinda bad for ditching everyone, we didn’t even get to see them leave,” you say.

“They’re be back in a couple weeks, darling, it’ll be alright,”

You stop and whip your head towards him, “What did you just call me?”

“Darling. Would you rather me not give you nicknames? I’m so sorry-“

You cut him off with a kiss, “No, no, it’s sweet. I like it,” you smile.

“Are you guys serious?!”

#logan sanders x reader #sanders sides x reader #logan sanders #sanders sides #ts logan #this was the fic I was writing until 3am last night btw #and i have zero regrets

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Could I ask headcanons of Black Eagles flirting and crushing on Byleth (professor?)?

[Ask and you shall receive lol. Lately I’ve been busying myself with long reports, so I needed something cutsey to recharge.(Sorry if it’s complete rubbish lol) It’s not much but I hope you like it!]

Edelgard: 

Ehh. She won’t be a student much longer anyways. 

Byleth will always be her professor...but maybe another title can be ticked onto that list? She hopes so. 

However, she doesn’t go too overboard. Just a few teasing gestures and quips every once in a while to sedate the budding sentiment in her heart 

With more pressing issues over love, Edelgard can’t afford to play the role of lovesick schoolgirl 

She sets side her personal feelings for the professor when around others. Instead they are treated as a good friend and adored instructor. Alongside the present given on Byleth’s birthday are a few other trinkets Edelgard picked up herself, you know, because she’s extra 

When alone her thoughts often drift. There are many occasions where work ends up procrastinated 

She keeps everything bottled up inside and doesn’t even hint at the idea of a crush to anyone. To love is to be compromised, to be compromised is to be weak, and to be weak is to fail

This is something she firmly believes until the support of her peers and affection from her professor begin to challenge it 

Perhaps there is room for love in her future 

“My teacher, you are an important companion to everyone here and to myself. You must never forget that”  

Hubert: 

Oh he is smooooth. 

Yet subtle 

He knows that he shouldn’t become too attached considering what’s to come in the future. His mind and body are her highness’ to command

....well, all good things come in moderation anyways. What’s a little meaningless flirting?

His flirting methods follow the ‘attack of opportunity’ plan. Meaning that he tosses in his quips when the time seems fitting 

He knows what he is doing. Never assume otherwise 

Obviously such conduct towards a teacher is unrefined. Does he care? The guy couldn’t give less of a sh*t 

He has 100% commented on their dancing attire at least once

People should mind their own business lest they want to lose their tongue. Can’t gossip when you can’t speak, right?  

If the professor doesn’t seem to mind then why should he stop? If they recuperate then that’s even better

It’s no fun when prey doesn’t fight back once in a while. 

“Oh do go on. The droll behind your ever so taunting tone is intoxicating. It almost makes this insufferable lecture mildly entertaining” -shots fired. Professor or not, ‘love interest’ or enemy, Hubert does not tone down the sarcasm 

No one even suspects that he has an interest in Byleth. He downright makes it appear that they are his sworn enemy (whether this is intentional or not? You decide) 

Caspar:

‘Flirt’? ‘Caspar’? That’s funny

It’s not that he can’t do it. Caspar can be very charming when he wants to be, but why bother? 

They’re his professor. If he starts kissing up to them then the others might start to think he’s pegging for special treatment 

He also doesn’t want them to like a facade. He wants them to like him

Not that he would turn said special treatment down if offered. He d o e s want to get stronger, and the extra time with his “favorite”*wink* professor is a lucky bonus 

He tends to have a ‘lingering eye’ that’s easy to pick up on if you catch my drift

he is not pure hearted, just a dunce. There is a difference

The boy blushes at every little action without even noticing

He loves to watch them train, both to better his own moves and to admire them without it seeming weird 

Literally everyone knows that Caspar has a thing for Byleth before he knows it himself. He’s the kind that mistakes a crush for admiration 

He’s also a big baby when it comes to them giving other people attention. 

He justifies his interruptions as: “The professor doesn’t have time to do __ for __! They have enough to do as it is!” 

Now what does that translate to in Caspar language?: “The time the professor spends doing __ is time they could spend with our class me” 

Someone help him. He’s so thick headed it’s actually sad 

Petra: 

“My apologies. I will be returning after the clearing of my head” 

She’s unfamiliar with the courting methods in Fodlan. Are they the same as in Bridgid? 

Thoughts of the professor occasionally will interfere with her study time

Also her appetite. Normally she eats plenty at meals since she hates waste, but the professor makes her nervous about her etiquette 

let’s just ignore that Byleth eats like a ravenous boar

She wants to take them to see Bridgid. It’s only natural to want to share the things you love with those you care about 

She embraces the affection she feels. Byleth is a truly wonderful person and the royal family would gladly accept them if Petra expressed her feelings 

When she returns she wants to ask them to accompany her 

For now she will remain at their side both in battle, in leisure, and in spirit 

Petra also isn’t one to approach with caution. The way she flirts is through honesty 

If they do something she likes then she says so. If they look nice or are trying something new then she’ll comment on it. If she sees something in the shop that they might like, then she buys it 

Petra is simple. She does for Byleth what she thinks will make them happy and doesn’t overthink it in the slightest 

Dorothea: 

The newfound feelings aren’t discouraged nor appreciated. It is a battle between practicality and love for her 

Not because of them being a professor, but everything else 

Mercenary, teacher, reincarnate, solider, tactician, etc. 

Such a dangerous profession with so much blood on their hands. Are those the ones she wants to hold for the rest of their days? 

Will they even live long enough to grow old with her? 

She wants a reliable partner to take care of her and not give her a heart attack on a daily basis. So far only one box is checked 

She will not be a widow at such a young age. She refuses 

When these thoughts emerge Dorothea retracts from Byleth. There’s still the open friendliness that was there before, but now an extra barrier has been put up 

She won’t go out of her way to give Byleth special treatment. Her search for a partner other than them will continue on 

Maybe she’ll find someone else to smash these feelings so that there will be no need to confront them 

Only after they ‘die’ will she stop suppressing them. 

“To think that it took such a disaster for me to see the light. Why do people realize such things when it’s too late?” - she focuses on personal growth until the reunion. Relying on another person to prevent the past from reappearing is not what she wants. 

Ferdinand: 

The best way that Ferdinand can communicate his feelings is through words

He tries. He really tries to come across as a potential life partner for the professor. He can only be a student for so long, and they’re close in age. Logically there is nothing wrong with the possibility of a courtship 

but because speaking ‘frilly’ is a normality the effect is not like how he hoped 

When Ferdinand falls, he falls hard. Yes, he is a flirt. Yes, he stretches himself thin trying to please everyone. Yes, he has his quirks that make him extremely confrontational 

So when he finds someone with the ability to make him both strengthen his morals, question the bigger picture, and grow as an individual (after the whole ‘noble’ mine-bomb) it’s a big deal 

Therefore he will not relent in his pursuit of Byleth unless they explicitly tell him to stop. If words don’t work then he instantly pegs for quality time and acts of affirmation 

Greets them every morning, carries their supplies, invites them to tea, delivers lost items, etc. People really do peg him as a kiss ass. 

He doesn’t get the ‘heart flutters’ that people talk about. When he’s beside the professor he just feels energized. Like he could actually beat Edelgard ‘could’ is the key word in that scentence

“Good morning Professor! If your schedule allows it, would you care to join me for tea later this afternoon? Your company would make it the perfect level of sweetness” 

Linhardt: 

A firm believer of “age is but a number”

It’s more of his personal beliefs that tone down any pursuit of the professor. They are currently in a position of power over him that halts any relationship progression at a professional level. 

So as any healthy person does: he vents any growing affection into his studies

He h a t e s how they make him restless.He’ll be feeling drowsy one moment but then their face will pop into his mind 

He can’t even sleep through class. Not with them there 

Actually works in the class’ favor since he starts contributing to the lectures. If you can’t beat them then might as well join them 

This is how it is during pre-timeskip for the most part. Occasionally he will let his thoughts slip but never any action

He has crests to research and Byleth has students that seemingly want to die by the hour. There is literally no time to flirt 

Now AFTER the timeskip, things are different. Linhardt is a blunt person which sometimes works in his favor. Just so happens that flirting comes naturally to him  

most of the time it doesn’t though

“Could you refrain from doing that? It’s distracting”                                      “Linhardt, i’m stretching. How is that distracting?”                                         “You are an attractive individual. Need I say more?” 

Life is short. He has no filter 

Bernadetta: 

“HI PROFESSOR!”                                                                                       “Afternoon Bernadetta. I see you’re out of your room today”                       “W-what? OH! Yes. Y-y-yEs i aM IM SORRY I’LL GO BACK PLEASE DON’T PATRONIZE MEEEEE” 

She’s scared. What’s new? 

The girl never expected to have these feelings. One night she was painting when what was supposed to be a cloud began to resemble her professor 

It was downhill from there.

Her behavior is exactly the same as prior to her feelings. Being a naturally jittery person works to her advantage, no one suspects a thing! 

Compared to simply being friends it will take longer for her to be comfortable 

She will avoid Byleth at all times outside of lessons. It’s just too hard to communicate anymore 

Eventually her outer shell will crack. The once new feelings will begin to feel normal and the old bernie will be back. Jittery, hyperactive, kind, lovable bernie 

#black eagles #fe3h fanfic #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses imagines #fire emblem imagine #fire emblem scenarios #fe: three houses #bernadetta von varley #caspar von bergliez #linhardt von hevring #hubert von vestra #ferdinand von aegir #edelgard von hresvelg #petra macneary #dorothea arnold #bernadetta x reader #caspar x reader #linhardt x reader #hubert x reader #ferdinand x reader #petra x reader #dorothea x reader #edelgard x reader #edeleth

[sambinnie]

1. Happy Mabon! Every autumn, I forget that the darkness comes clanging down in a great rush in the mornings. One day, I am greeted by a pinking sunrise. 48 hours later, it’s so dark on my run to the river that I have to stop a passing runner and check the time, in case my disturbed sleep sent me dressing and leaving the house at 2am. This summer may not have given us those mornings where it’s so hot I can barely get out of the water, where those early hours feel like full silent days carved out just for me to sit in the light and wait for everyone else to wake up, where the only extra thing I put on to run home is my trainers — I look at my waiting winter gear, neoprene socks and gloves, head torch, two more thickening jumpers, hat, thermal mittens — but every season, every day, is beautiful.

Today we go early for celebrations, and the water is silky, and Orion hangs over us with his phallic sword dangling and Betelgeuse winking on one shoulder. The near-full moon spotlights us and I feel almost ready for the shortening days.

2. Hilary Mantel continues to be a literary god. How does she write with that clarity? How can I ever speak with her calm good sense and wit? 

3. We have two main problems at the moment, as far as I can see. a) What we’re doing (“curating” our lives; twitter spats; purity spirals; division and isolation; wanting ‘debates’ that can only be won or lost; encouraging people to buy more things; trying to buy our happiness; letting marketers tell us how we feel about the world rather than encouraging major moral lessons from throughout the ages to challenge us on our weaknesses; refusing to accept that life is suffering; asking self-care to be a plaster for everything we don’t have) and b) what we’re not doing (joining together to stand against those with more money and power; protecting the people who have even less power and voice than we do as a matter of course; learning from history; protecting nature above all else; prioritising going for walks; learning to repair things and campaigning to make things repairable; having a basic belief in human dignity for all, not just those with whom we agree; accepting that truly, we are all different and no amount of shaming or disgust will change that; working to shape our societies, culture, economies, production, food supplies and communications around improving — not just sustaining — the air, water and land, and fighting to ensure all of those new shapes protect women and children).

Individualism has morphed into something so completely self-destructive that we’ve forgotten we need nature more than anything — literally, more than anything — and we need to unionise and unite and put aside differences and work together even with people we don’t like. 

Because when there are wicked people in power, when it’s genuinely exhausting to think about all the corrupt, venal, toxic, divisive, false, and cruel things they have done since coming to power, those people love to watch everyone below pointing their fingers at one another, saying, You, You’re The Enemy, You’re The Problem, while corrupt populist leaders rub their bellies and chuckle at another promise broken, another mass death on their hands, another building site on a protected forest. Do you understand the stakes here? Do you understand that it’s actual survival? It’s not about being right any more, it’s not about besting someone in the argument. It’s about having decision makers who can not only ensure there is still food to eat and air to breathe, but that relations both within a country and between countries are built on care, and support, and compassion, and believing in human dignity. And while it sounds wishy-washy and hands-clappy it’s the schmaltzy, sentimental truth. It’s the only one, really. 

If we instead continue to believe every single day that my feelings are the most important, that my beliefs are the right ones, that I’ve got to prove those baddies there are evil and awful and wrong, then honestly, what the fuck? If we’re happy to live in a country where hostile architecture is the starting point for all public builds, where we send refugee boats away from our shores, where affiliate links are a career goal, where we haven’t stormed the Daily Mail offices with accounts of all our lovely immigrant friends and family and had a huge feast together and compared our long and tangled family trees, then come on. It’s only a race to the bottom if we all keep running. 

Because, pressingly, whatever the spark of a major global conflict — assassination, fuel shortages, hyperinflation, invasion — the kindling is almost always a populace fed pure hatred for months, for years, until they can’t even taste it anymore but are ready to spew it out again, and are ready to use another populace as the receptacle. And hatred is brewed up in silence and isolation, and in the ashes of bridges burned between disparate groups. 

And on that note, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, mainly because I don’t believe governments are generally competent enough to manage Grand Plans, but it’s annoying that technology and social trends and culture have developed in such a way that no one knocks on anyone’s door for a chat as a matter of course now, that it’s a given that a ringing phone triggers anxiety, that it’s not the norm for cups of tea with your neighbours, that we don’t know each other’s neighbourhoods, that we don’t even talk on the phone, with live words and intonation and synchronised laughter, but in text, in WhatsApp chats, in tapped out words and symbols that we know can be screen-grabbed and misinterpreted, that we know are kept, filtered and sold by the tech companies. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just a reality that every single one of us can choose to do differently. 

Sometimes exactly the right thing comes along at the right time. All of us here watched About a Boy at the weekend, a film which is so wonkily weighted and oddly rhythmed, but a perfect depiction of everything I’m banging on about here. Hugh Grant’s character likes being alone. He’s happy that way. It suits him. It’s his choice. Then, between one thing and another, he finds himself drawn into a world of a suicidal single mother, a duck-murdering young boy, more single mothers, more tricky teens, plus exes and mothers-in-law and awkward support groups. And it turns out that actually, being with people is better. Being uncomfortable often develops you as a person. Constantly prioritising only yourself produces a waxen, pointless baby. Making shared sacrifices might just be the point of being alive. Remember that to be human is to be flawed. That no one is ever completely right, and no one is ever completely wrong. That the boring stuff makes us feel good, and the glossy stuff, if all we strive for is gloss, doesn’t. 

If you want anything practical, here are the things that have really helped me over the last few years:

Writing a letter or email regularly to my MP, to CEOs of organisations, to anyone I want to communicate my strong feelings and how I’d like things to be done better. Tweeting eats your soul. It’s a horrible myth the media pretends is important. It really, really isn’t.

Inviting people to go in front of me in queues, in traffic, getting on to buses and trains. It lowers my stress levels right down.

Learning the names of my neighbours and people I meet regularly on walks and letting them learn mine. (I definitely haven’t just decided I loathe a neighbour because they cut a bird-hatching tree down in their garden on the last day of the year it was legal to do so. It’s fine.)

Joining a few political parties, and the closest thing I have to a union

Making something, anything — everything can be done with love, and learning to not get sucked into the capitalist conceit of having to make it perfect, sellable, exhibitable is a genuine gift to yourself; making a cake or a film or a coaster and not putting it on social media, letting it be ugly or serviceless and loving it anyway. I felt extremely overwhelmed the other evening, but instead of doom-scrolling I knitted a… I don’t know, something flat and woollen, and it helped to have my hands and eyes working on directionless introspective creation. 

Trying to stop hating. Every time I want to tell a negative story in my head about someone, I attempt to turn it into something positive: how unhappy that person must be, what they must be missing out on. It’s so nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish, and of course it isn’t always successful, and of course every single day brings a hundred thousand examples of cruelty and injustice and wickedness, but the alternative only makes my life feel worse, so why would I indulge that? 

Teaching myself the names of birds, trees, flowers, clouds and constellations. I’m still at the most basic levels on all of these, but the difference one feels in the world when you can name things  — let alone use them and know their stories — is a very real sort of magic. (For that reason I hope to read this book very soon.) This episode of The Cut is also good on the wonder and power of learning the names of the weeds that grow in your nearest pavement crack. 

4. Creating anything is always a gamble, isn’t it, but writing a book you actually like for once and seeing it slowly and beautifully sink to the bottom of a river never to be seen again is ever so slightly crushing. However, it turns out even Thom Yorke feels that way, so I am comforted. 

5. I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of these before, but if you want some suggestions of where to find joy, here are my favourites from the last year or so:

I was given Lucy Easthope’s book, When the Dust Settles, for work recently, and I was surprised and delighted to discover the most uplifting, hopeful, human and rightfully angry book I’ve read in a long time. Do yourself a favour and preorder it. I bought this other book for my own birthday, gave it to a housemate to give to me, forgot about it, and was delighted to later unwrap He Used Thought As A Wife. Laughed a lot, cried twice. Marvellous. 

Now even the youngest housemate here can recite John Finnemore sketches and sing the songs. Has also taught them various composers, gods, logical fallacies and gothic story tropes. Also v funny. Oh, Kate Beaton! Her two books (Hark! A Vagrant and Step Aside Pops) are a bit like a comic-book version of Finnemore, but swearier and sexier and utterly unsuitable for all the housemates who have read it and been educated about the Brontes, Katherine Sui Fun Cheung, Tom Longboat, Nancy Drew, Ida B. Wells, Sacagawea, and the Borgias. 

Had to give Inside a restraining order against me for the sake of us all, but Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade is a masterpiece of writing, acting, sound design and optimism. Spy is dumb action comedy polished to perfection, and Yasujirō Ozu’s Good Morning seems like the inspiration for almost all US arthouse films since 1990, and is also beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and good. 

Taylor Swift’s Evermore, like all brilliant albums, isn’t completely perfect. But most of the songs are. And Hole’s classic Live Through This is still just ideal for turning up very, very loud after a tricky day, for the enjoyment of any neighbours who may have hacked down a bird-friendly tree on the last day of February. 

Watched both series of Liam Williams’ Ladhood when I had a week off this summer, and really relished the location, the intention, and the writing. More please. 

Miles Jupp and Justin Edwards continue to be my comforting bedtime listening in In and Out of the Kitchen. Has it ruined Nigel Slater for me? Well, a bit, but no more than any of us deserved. 

I thought this would be a book I’d mumble through the first chapter of, then let get buried in my To Read pile, never to re-open. Instead, I found Whatever Happened to Margo? laugh-out-loud funny, drily written, and full of humanity. Excellent Women has made me want to read everything written by Barbara Pym, a goal I am slowly but surely working towards. 

6. I’ve spent the last few years trying to find hazelnut trees, and finally found a copse between a car park and a play area, full of nuts the squirrels hadn’t noticed. Now I’ve found them, the spell has been cast and I see hazel trees everywhere, on walks and on pavements and running along motorway slip roads. A tray of green and brown frilled hazelnuts now dries with the laundry. They are so beautiful.