#and by different I mean slightly more of a ‘radio announcer’ type sound if that makes sense. not like a filter just some equalization

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I have been exporting the audio wrong this whole time I- anyway. All posts from here on will have the correct setting :)

*edit. The post right before this does have the correct settings and the new equalizer stuff. If it sounds slightly better, that’s why.

[raibebe]

Love Is On Air

Genre: fluff & smut Words: 8.722 Prompt: radio host Johnny x secret admirer female reader Warnings: soft dom Johnny, oral (f receiving), safe sex, dirty talk

A/N: Finally: My entry for the February event of my lovely network @neosmutcollective​. This is totally not the fic I planned on writing. In fact this was started way later after I realized I was never going to finish my original fic on time. Not that this one is on time... Special thanks to everyone who sent our lovely DJs some music recommendations @sly-merlin​, @moonctzeny​, @lenaluvs​, @lucas-wongs​, @burtonized​ and to @ncteaxhoe​ who helped me figure out this idea. I hope you enjoy this even though it’s wayyy too late.

You hurried home to your apartment after your last class of the day that was horrifically late because of whoever had fucked up your schedule this semester. Panting heavily, you busted into your room and threw your jacket and backpack somewhere onto your couch, diving straight for your laptop that was perched on your desk. Cursing the old thing, you waited for agonizing minutes until it had booted up and your browser was open. You quickly opened the familiar page of your university’s campus radio just in time to hear the familiar voice saying: “Hi I’m John-D, welcome to NCT Night Night.” After that both hosts chuckled lowly before Jaehyun spoke: “Tonight we’ll read some of the letters you wrote us over the week again and we will try our best to help you out with whatever problems you throw our way.” “Exactly. Right after we play this song that was suggested by evangelie_99 over on our Twitter, it’s Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County and she said that she loves our show. We’re glad you like it so much, darling. This one is for you,” Johnny softly said before the soft tunes of the song filled your little one-room apartment.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, carelessly toeing your shoes off. Listening to NCT Night Night was your escape at night from the stress that classes brought you. The two DJs that were on air every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday were your favorites though. Not only did they have great chemistry but they both could be incredibly funny as well as soothe all your nerves with their calming voices – especially Johnny or John-D as he was called on their show. You might have developed a slightly embarrassing crush on the fratboy with a heart as sweet as his voice from what you knew about him from his radio shows and your shared classes. Since they had started their weekly segment where they would read out letters that students could send them, you had gathered the courage to send Johnny little messages about how you were crushing on him and it had quickly become a running gag on the show. Jaehyun would tease Johnny about it every week while Johnny kept insisting that his secret admirer should just talk to him. But how could you do that? Johnny was everything one could want in a boyfriend. Not only was he ridiculously tall and devastatingly handsome but he was also smart, always seemingly staying on top of his classes and he also went to the gym regularly if his thirst traps on his Instagram stories were anything to go by. When he wasn’t giving out advice in a gentle voice on their radio program, he was out partying with his frat brothers on the weekends more often than not complaining about headaches on their Sunday show. How could you just walk up to him and talk to him? Right. You couldn’t. So you had to resign to sending him anonymous love letters through his radio show.

“Welcome back, hi,” Johnny chuckled once the song had gently faded out and you couldn’t help but giggle along. “That was Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County,” Jaehyun tried to stay on script but you could almost hear the grin on his face because of Johnny’s antics, “If you want your song to play on today’s show, please suggest something over on our Twitter with the hashtag,” Jaehyun paused momentarily and let out a dramatic sigh before continuing, “hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin.” Jaehyun hadn’t even read the whole hashtag out loud when Johnny was already bursting out in laughter and how could you not laugh along with his melodic laughter. “I swear to god I am never letting you choose hashtags for our show ever again,” Jaehyun groaned while Johnny sounded like he was still dying in the background. “Don’t be mean to me Jaehyunie,” he whined and even though today’s episode was not viewable, you could vividly imagine how he was pouting. While the two friends were busy bickering and talking about what they had done since their last show, you pulled up your own Twitter to send a recommendation in.

“Aaaah, I see we’re already getting plenty of suggestions. Sly-merlin suggested us Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato – a great song – and added ‘I wish John-D would actually play me like a violin.” After a potent silence, Johnny broke out in laughter again. “And this is why you won’t choose any more hashtags,” Jaehyun groaned again. “Baby,” Johnny rasped into his mic and even though you weren’t wearing headphones, it sent tingles down your spine, “Just come to our frat party on Friday and I’ll see what I can do.” “Stop plugging our parties on the radio,” Jaehyun scolded the elder, the slap audible over the radio, “Also sly-merlin has to stand in line. You still have your number one admirer who has sent in a letter yet again.” “She still hasn’t come up to me,” Johnny shared, “I can only keep up my chastity for so long. I am saving myself for this girl.” You know he was joking but you were just a simple woman and even in your secluded home, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, your thumbs stopping on your keyboard where you had typed out your song recommendation. Both DJs shared a quiet laugh before Jaehyun asked: “And you really don’t know who she is?” “I really don’t man,” his friend sighed, “Like I have my suspicions because she has to be in my major if she sees me in class that often. That or she’s a stalker which I do not want to think about. But for real, hit me up. I’ll take you out for a coffee.” “Now everyone is going to come up to you and claim that they’re her.” “I’ll take that risk,” Johnny laughed, “Maybe I’ll finally meet the love of my life and settle down.” At that Jaehyun snorted loudly. “The woman that can make you settle down gets free coffee for like a month from me.” “Watch me have a wife and kids at 25 Jae, just to spite you,” his friend snorted, “But up until then, let’s play sly-merlin’s song recommendation: Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato.”

While the song was playing, you finished up your own tweet and hit post before you grabbed your bag that you had carelessly thrown away before to get out your notes. You actually had to start a project for one of the classes you and Johnny actually did share. The professor had announced that he would announce the pairings for a group project tomorrow and you didn’t want to seem like an actual idiot if your group would decide to already meet up and discuss after class. So while you listened to your favorite DJs discuss the questions and worries of whoever had sent them to their email address, you worked through the notes you had taken over the last couple of weeks, trying your best to organize them to remember the key points.

“Oh John-D, I have a very special letter here,” Jaehyun said, waving the paper in front of the microphone so it would pick up the wiggling noises. “What could that be?” Johnny asked with over-exaggerated interest. “It’s from your secret admirer, John-D. So I think you should read it out.” Just like every time, they read your letter, your heart began beating faster and faster in your chest until you were sure, it would break free from your ribcage. “Okay, here I go,” Johnny announced while Jaehyun was playing the same cheesy music he always played when they were reading your letters, “Happy Thursday, John-D. The weekend is almost in reach, keep up the energy for the last day of classes! – she’s so sweet, I’m holding up alright – One of my professors will announce the pairings he made for a group project soon and I am nervous. I don’t have many friends in the course and I’m praying that I will get good group mates I can work well with.” “Oooh, I get that struggle,” Jaehyun interrupted, “I once had to work with a bunch of stoners and ended up doing all the work for a presentation that made up 30 percent of my grade. Worst experience of my life, would not recommend. But we’re wishing you all the luck.” “But you know what’s more interesting about this story?” Johnny tuned in, “Coincidentally my professor for my literature class is assigning our group projects tomorrow as well. Say, my sweet admirer, are you perhaps in the same literature class as me?” In your otherwise silent room, the panicked squeak you let out was loud even to your ears. There was no way Johnny could figure out who you were, there were probably at least 20 more girls with a crush on him in that class alone, so you were safe. “Oooh, so maybe she’s a lit major so that’s why she’s writing love letters.” “Could be but lots of people from different majors are taking that class,” Johnny argued, “Anyways, back to her letter. But I won’t let that disturb me! I will be doing my best regardless! – That’s the spirit – I’ll work through my notes as I listen to your honey voice so I can be prepared. I’m glad you don’t do viewable radios on Thursday’s or else I wouldn’t be able to get anything done, you’re just too distracting John-D,” at that Jaehyun let out a fake gag while Johnny just giggled softly, “Thank you secret admirer, I do clean up quite nicely if I do say so myself. – On last Sunday’s episode you melted my heart when you hid in your hoodie for half the show. – God that was the worst hangover I had in a looong while, I was so miserable.”

“You should have seen him at home,” Jaehyun laughed, “I had to physically drag his whole 180-something-centimeters body first into the shower, then into the car and into the station. He is the biggest crybaby when he’s hungover.” “Don’t expose me like that, Jaehyunie,” Johnny whined loudly, “I was dared to drink a bunch of tequila and my mother didn’t raise neither a quitter nor a coward.” “No, but clearly an idiot,” the younger DJ laughed his deep laugh. “Let me read my love letter in peace,” the other grumbled, “I couldn’t follow for half the show because I was so focused on watching you. Not in a creepy way of course! – Of course not,” Johnny chuckled, “I hope you finished that essay you had to work on after the show in time and still had some time to relax. – I did, don’t worry.” That you already knew when Johnny had handed in his essay in another class you two shared just before you had handed in yours and he had thrown you a little smile that had kept you going through the whole day. “Take care of yourself and keep smiling your beautiful smile, I look forward to seeing you again on Sunday or in classes. And fighting to Jae-D as well of course! – I look forward to hearing from you again, secret admirer. I bet your group project will go just fine, don’t worry too much. If anyone is mean to you, just expose them here and we’ll fight them for you.” “Love that she acknowledged me in one sentence as well,” Jaehyun grumbled, cutting off the cheesy music abruptly. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a sweet admirer who sends you cute messages,” the other teased his friend. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and put that letter in the box under your bed.” “It’s in my sock drawer, thank you very much.”

Giggling, you listened to the two friends bicker, your chest warm with a feeling you were scared to put a name on. “Anyways, I think it’s time for another music recommendation you can still send in via our lovely hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin. This one is from lenaluvies and she says: Please play Hurts So Good by Astrid S thank you. No, thank you for sending something in darling. This one’s for you,” Johnny announced and you couldn’t help but laugh a little pained laugh. That song title hit a little too close to home for your liking. The rest of the radio show went by smoothly and Johnny and Jaehyun tried to help a handful of more students with their problems that couldn’t be more diverse. From a boy who had fallen in love with his best friend which had send him into an identity crisis over to a girl who was failing her classes because she claimed the professor hated her to a freshman who wanted to apply for a fraternity but was scared because of the rumors surrounding them which the DJs quickly debunked since they both were in the same fraternity. In the end they had to cut themselves short, asking their viewers to vote on a poll they would make if people wanted a whole Tuesday episode surrounding fraternities.

“So.” “So,” Johnny copied his friend. “We’re almost at the end of our time with you guys. We couldn’t get through all of your submissions but we hope our team picked a few good ones and at least some of you could get some advice.” “As always you’re free to send us your own stories to our e-mail JohnJaeNNN@NCTU.com to get some advice next Thursday from your favorite DJs: John-D.” “And Jae-D. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday on your campus radio on 127mHz. On NCT-“ “Night Night,” they said their ending together and just like every night with them, you said goodnight to your computer screen, closing the tab which draped your little apartment in silence. Sighing loudly, you looked over your notes that needed a little more work if you wanted to make a good first impression on your fellow students tomorrow. Because you couldn’t stand the silence, you opened your Spotify to play the NCT Night Night playlist Johnny and Jaehyun had made with the songs that had been recommended to them, still missing the new additions from tonight.

The next morning found you in your literature class, sitting two rows behind Johnny, staring at the back of his head while doodling on your paper rather than taking notes on whatever the professor was saying. If you were to let your eyes wander, you’d see that almost everyone in the big room was paying as much or even less attention as you were; the students in different states of excitement and anxiety over the group projects he had yet to announce. “I’m sorry professor,” Johnny’s voice suddenly cut through the room, “I’m sure you have already noticed that no one is paying attention to whatever you’re trying to teach us right now. Could you please just announce the groups for the project?” That moment you swore you would be able to hear a pin drop until your eccentric professor chuckled lowly. “I like you, Suh. I was waiting for someone to mention it,” he spoke, getting the dreaded list out of his bag, “Listen closely now, you’ll be assigned in groups of four and each group will get a specific novel to work on. Deadline will be by the end of the semester and your individual paper combined with the group presentation will make up 40% of your final grade.” That made a bunch of people, including you, gasp out loudly. A group project with this much credit to your final grade was always dreaded. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, that’s how it’s always been. Now listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself but the list will be hung on our blackboard as well.” With that being said, the professor began listing names and novels in the most monotone voice he could muster. To say you were basically vibrating off of your seat was an understatement when he got further and further down the list and neither yours nor Johnny’s name had been called yet. “And lastly, an all-time favorite: Romeo and Juliet.” You didn’t even register anything else after the professor had announced that the group featured both Johnny and you along with two other students you didn’t know. Your brain was reduced to static noise while everyone else was getting up around you to pick up the books that had already been stacked in a corner, probably by a poor TA. Only when a person bumped into you, you broke from your stupor to quickly pick up your stuff as well to hurry down to steps to where a crowd of students had already gathered.

Luckily Johnny towered over most of the other students and you could easily spot him and the rest of your group that were two other boys you didn’t recognize. “Hey, you’re the last one we were missing,” Johnny smiled and handed you over your copy of the book. “Y... Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” you stuttered, clutching the small book tightly in your hands. “No big deal,” Johnny played it off, “Do any of you have any more classes today?” When everyone declined, you all agreed that you should get a head start on your project as it would be hard to make a good project out of such an overused love story. While walking over to the student center to decide on a concept, conversation flowed easily between the four of you even though you were still really nervous to be around Johnny. God, you really hoped he didn’t think you were stupid or something just because you were nervous.

The little study session went by in a blur and only further confirmed that you were so whipped for Johnny it wasn’t even funny anymore. You found yourself attentively listening to all of his ideas and laughing at every of his stupid little jokes and only mildly spacing out while looking at Johnny when the others were discussing ideas which had led to one or two mildly embarrassing situations where you would lose track of what you were actually discussing, your mind blank of any input when they asked for your opinion.

Soon you found yourself parting ways with your groupmates, leaving you and Johnny alone because his frat house and your little apartment were located in the same general direction. “Anything fun you’re doing this evening?” Johnny asked, trying to make some light conversation to fill the silence. “No, I’ll just binge watch some shows maybe or listen to the campus radio,” you shrugged it off. While today’s show wasn’t your favorite, you quite liked the DJs soft and gentle voice. “You listen to the campus radio? I have a show on there,” Johnny smiled. “I like listening to you and Jaehyun,” you confessed, trying to fight the heat that was licking at your cheeks. “Oh.” “You seem surprised.” “Yeah, it kind of still seems weird that people enjoy listening to Jae and me rambling for hours on end. You know with him it just feels like I’m hanging out with my brother rather than work.” “Your voices are really soothing, you know,” you tried to explain what you were feeling when listing to them, “And your friendship is kind of adorable. Like we can feel how much you care about each other and you always genuinely try to help your listeners without making fun of them.” For a while Johnny didn’t say anything and you thought you had fucked it up, that he thought you were weird now. “Thank you,” he suddenly said. “Huh?” “It means a lot hearing that. We do lurk on Twitter to see what people think of our show but hearing it like this is something else entirely.” “It’s nothing,” you mused, playfully hitting his arm, “No need to get this soft.” “Hey,” he laughed, “I’ll have you know that I am 180 centimeters of walking softness despite what people might say about me.” Smiling softly you caught his eyes for the first time since you two had started walking and the way his honey eyes were smiling back at you momentarily took your breath away.

“I- My room is right around here, sooooo,” you stuttered. “It was nice working with you. Even though you were spacing out half the time,” Johnny teased, “Thinking about a special someone?” You. The word sat on the tip of your tongue, the low light of the afternoon sun making you bolder than you actually were and Johnny just made you feel incredibly comfortable. “No... No- I- I’m single.” “A crush then?” “Something like that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket. “Talk to him. Or her. Or them,” Johnny advised. “I really can’t,” you sighed, “He doesn’t even know I exist.” “Well you don’t need to confess your undying love for him,” he laughed, not knowing he was the boy in question, “Just you know. Casually talk to him. Get to know him.” “I’ll try?” “Is that a question?” “Yeah?” “Have more confidence in yourself,” he gently nudged you, “You’re nice and very easy to talk to.” “Nice... Wow.” “Shut up,” he laughed, “I usually give better compliments but I have yet to get to know you better.” “Would you... Would you even want that?” “Sure,” Johnny shrugged and your heart skipped a couple of beats, “I have to get going or everybody will already be drunk when I arrive. So... I’ll see you in class? And you’ll hear me on Sunday?” “Yeah sure. Don’t drink too much or you will be miserable all show like last week,” you giggled. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned, “I’m never going to drink tequila on a Saturday ever again.” “Goodbye Johnny,” you smiled, really liking how his name sounded when you said it out loud. “Bye,” he waved before going his way.

Once you were sure he was out of hearing distance, you let out a little happy squeak and jumped up and down excitedly. You did it. You had actually done it. You had talked to your crush. And managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him. Which was a win in your books. A huge win. With a little spring in your steps, you stepped by one of your favorite pizza places to treat yourself before heading home where you spend your evening daydreaming about none other than Johnny while watching reruns of old dramas.

“Hi, I’m Jae-D.” “And I am John-D. Welcome to NCT-“ “Night Night.” “John-D.” “Yes, Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled. “It’s Thursday again which means it’s time to tend to our listener’s worries,” Jaehyun read off of the script, not getting distracted by his friend’s antics, “And today is a very special episode.” “Special?” Jaehyun barely repressed to roll his eyes at his friend’s over-exaggerated acting before continuing: “Yes, since tomorrow is a day off for all students, we have decided to make this episode extra lengthy and-“ he shortly stopped to flash the camera a peace sign, “Viewable despite it being Thursday.” “Do we look okay?” Johnny laughed, checking himself out in the video that was playing on one of their monitors. “Aaaaah, the comments say we look good tonight, thank you,” Jaehyun mused.

And they really did. Not that either of them had to do a whole lot to look good but today they were both wearing white button-downs with their sleeves rolled up to expose their forearms. Jaehyun had even gone so far as to put on some fake glasses. “And if you’re following us on our Twitter you also already know that this week it’s all about love on our campus radio and our show today is no exception,” Johnny read his part of the script. “Today John-D and Jae-D are Loveholics, trying our very best to help you with your problems surrounding love,” Jaehyun completed, “You can send in song recommendations through the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic just like taryn1026 did – I hope I said that right – but they recommended Paris in the Rain by Lauv to set the mood for today.”

The soft tunes of the song made you relax a little into your sofa where you had chosen to watch today’s episode of NCT Night Night. You had to say that you were kind of nervous for today’s episode. Just like every week you had written your letter to Johnny, telling him about your week and cheering him on for your group project. At this point it should have been pretty obvious just who exactly you were and judging by how Johnny was acting towards you, his flirting leaving you flustered after your study sessions and your group mates mildly annoyed, he seemed to already have put together the pieces. But yesterday while writing your letter you had felt extra bold (and maybe also extra riled up and horny from Johnny’s shameless flirting) and had written him a message that should confirm all his suspicions and would hopefully lead him straight to you and into your bed. But until the end of the show or at least until they read your letter, which you really hoped they did today as well, you had to wait sitting in your apartment, for once not in comfortable clothes but in a nice shirt and pants.

“That was Paris in the Rain by Lauv, recommended to us by taryn1026 through our Twitter with the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Johnny’s raspy voice filled your apartment when he leaned close to the mic, “Jae-D are you ready to make some love happen?” “I already had my love juice,” Jaehyun answered, showing his pink Starbucks drink to the camera, “And my reading glasses are on.” As to prove his point, he hiked his glasses up his nose before scratching his eye through the holes in the frame, making both DJs chuckle. For the next hour Johnny and Jaehyun tried to solve several relationship dramas as well as a very tricky friends-with-benefits situation and telling a boy to break up with his cheating girlfriend which had been a rather heartbreaking discussion. “So after this,” Jaehyun sighed, “Let’s play another song recommendation. Burtonized has sent in a very fitting song, I hope you all don’t mind a little Korean: It’s God Damn by I.M – a song about heartbreak.”

While the foreign song was playing, the two DJs stretched their backs and sipped on their respective drinks: Jaehyun still on his pink sugar concoction and Johnny already on his second iced Americano. Jaehyun must have found something funny on his phone, nudging his friend to look at him but Johnny was busy typing away on his own, only acknowledging his friend after he had typed his message. Just after that, your own phone buzzed with a message, showing Johnny’s name on the screen.

From: Johnny Are you watching our show?

To: Johnny Sure, you look good today

From: Johnny Make sure to listen closely ;)

“That was God Damn by I.M suggested by burtonized over our Twitter hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Jaehyun’s smooth voice tore you from your spiraling thoughts about the winking face Johnny had sent. “Sadly our show is coming to an end even with our extended airtime.” “But John-D a very important letter is still missing before we close our show. Dare I say it could be the highlight of our show,” Jaehyun joked, already playing the cheesy music he was always playing when Johnny would read your letters. “You’re right Jae-D my lovely secret admirer has sent in another letter,” Johnny mused, arranging himself so he could read the printed out letter while being as close as possible to the mic for it to pick up the rasp in his voice, “Happy Thursday John-D, I hope your week has been more exciting than mine. I have just been going from class to class without much thought, the only high points are my group meetings for the group project we have to hand in soon – That seems very familiar, baby – But since today is all about love, I’ll tell you about a little problem I have: – get your love juice ready, Jae – There is this boy in my group. And boy isn’t really the right word to describe him, he’s a man really,” at that Johnny couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious – And he is flirting with me. Has been for a couple of weeks now. And it has gotten to the point where our groupmates are kind of annoyed at us. He has also walked me home a couple of times but he never so much as touched me. At this point I am so frustrated with him. Is he just playing with me? Or is his mouth bigger than his actions actually are? He has been riling me up all day today and I was ready to let him have his way with me but he only wished me goodnight and left again, leaving me to deal with what he had done all by myself – oh wow, I,” Johnny stuttered, sharing a gaze with his friend who was only barely repressing his laughter, “Wow, okay, I hope we’re in the good for reading this out and it’s late enough,” clearing his voice and raking a hand through his hair, Johnny continued, “John-D I hope this man hears what he has done to me and will deal with the consequences of his actions. Would you play Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL for me? Just in case this letter hasn’t gotten my point across? – Y... Yeah sure, darling. We’ll play that once our show is over.”

“So John-D,” Jaehyun grinned while loudly slurping on his ‘love juice’, “What would you advice your secret admirer to do about this problem?” “Well if I were her,” Johnny started, his gaze going straight to the camera where he knew you were watching and it felt like he was looking straight into your soul, “I’d wait for him. I’m pretty sure he can prove that his actions speak even louder than his words.” For a while it was quiet between the two DJs, safe for Jaehyun’s obnoxiously loud slurping noises but even if they would have been saying anything, you weren’t sure if you could have comprehended any words with how furiously your heart was beating. “Anyways,” Jaehyun eventually broke the silence once he was sure there was nothing left in his ‘love juice’, “I’m afraid that was it for tonight. This has been your extra lengthy episode of Jae-D and John-D and we will leave you with this wonderful song recommendation: Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL. If you’ve liked today’s show, we’re here every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday night on your campus radio on 127mHz to listen to all of your worries on NCT-“ “Night Night,” Johnny joined in and they both waved into the camera as your song of choice started playing. The video stream didn’t cut off immediately, showing the boys gathering their things and if your eyes weren’t betraying you, you swore you saw Johnny tense up when the song turned a little more explicit. The two DJs waved to the camera one last time before the stream cut off, leaving the screen of your laptop dark.

That was when it dawned on you what you had done. Shit. With how Johnny had sounded, you probably had about fifteen to twenty minutes until he would be at your doorstep. Oh god. Shit. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you tried to ground yourself before hurriedly closing your laptop and cleaning everything that seemed messy in your little one-room apartment. That was until you heard a knock on your door.

With shaky hands, you slowly opened the door and while you knew who would be standing on the other side, you weren’t ready for how he was going to look like: Johnny was leaning against the doorway casually with his arms crossed over his chest so the tight button-down he was wearing would strain over the planes of his chest muscles but what really reeled you in was how dark his eyes looked when he raked them over your body. “Good evening miss,” he drawled. “Hi,” you breathed. “Tell me what you want so I’m not misinterpreting any of this,” Johnny all but growled, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. “I want you to have me.” If you thought his eyes were dark before, they turned into bottomless black orbs once the words had left your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby.” “Please,” you whimpered and that seemed to break Johnny’s resolve as he pulled you close to him and all but crashed his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t delicate in any way, shape or form with how Johnny was licking into your mouth the second a moan left your lips. His tongue was intertwining with yours messily and in no time both of you were panting into each other’s mouths. “Inside. Now,” you rasped. “All with due time,” Johnny chuckled but let you pull him into your apartment, slamming the door shut to crowd you against it, one of his strong thighs slipping between your legs like it belonged there, “If you’re a good girl and listen well, I’ll give you anything you want.” “Fuck,” you cursed before slamming your lips together again, a new neediness bleeding into the kiss as you tugged on the longer strands of hair at the back of Johnny’s neck which made him growl lowly. “Anything off-limits?” Johnny breathed into your skin as he kissed down your neck to suck a mark there while his hands were busy pulling your shirt from your pants so he could rake them over your naked skin. “Just,” you had to cut yourself off with a moan, “Don’t be mean to me.” “Never,” he promised, “You’ll be my pillow princess.” His sweet words were in stark contrast to how hard his hands were gripping your hips and how his teeth were grazing over your neck that must be littered with marks already. “Take me to bed,” you heaved breathlessly, positive your legs would give out if it wasn’t for Johnny holding you up.

Listening to your demand, he slowly started walking you backwards towards your bed until the two of you were toppling down on top of the covers, his lips never leaving your skin. Whoever had spread the rumors about Johnny being a great lover had been absolutely right, he knew just how to touch you to have you gasping for air and judging by the grin on his lips he hadn’t even started yet. “Please,” you whimpered, arching into his touch, not exactly sure what exactly you were asking for but Johnny seemed to know all the better when he freed you from your top and pants to leave you in your matching lace set while he was still fully clothed in his by now wrinkled button-up and pants. “All for me?” He chuckled and pressed a kiss right between the valley of your breasts, his big hands cupping the soft flesh to squeeze it gently. “Have me,” you gasped out and you could feel the growl he let out vibrating where you were pressed together. “I’m going to ruin you,” Johnny promised, pulling down the cups of your bra to wrap his plush lips around one of your nipples to tease the soft nub until it hardened under his ministrations, sending waves of pleasure down your spine and straight to your core where you could feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your panties. “Johnny,” you mewled and arched into his every touch, his calloused fingertips setting your skin alight when he let them travel down your body to tease over your lower stomach. As if by reflex, you let your thighs fall open for him to finally touch you where you needed him the most. “Such a good girl,” he smiled, blowing cold air over your spit-slicked nipple to watch you squirm beneath him. Your remark got stuck in your throat when he finally cupped you through your panties, feeling how damp the fabric had already become. “Naughty,” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face as he circled your clit through the fabric, watching your eyes fluttering shut when his gaze became too intense.

“Johnny,” you sighed, forgetting all other words except for his name. “Relax, princess,” he rasped and kissed his way down your body, leaving love bites on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs that shook with anticipation. If you’d say you hadn’t dreamed about his lips on you like this, you would lie and you weren’t going to miss the sight of this for nothing. Fighting back the fog that had started to cloud your mind, you forced your eyes open to look down to where he had settled between your open thighs to find him staring right back at you. “Good girl,” he praised you again before pressing a kiss over your clothed sex that made your head fall back already, the anticipation of what was to come making you push up your hips which made Johnny chuckle lowly. He didn’t leave you any time to feel embarrassed by how needy you were when he hooked your panties to the side unceremoniously and licked a broad stripe up your center, tasting your arousal. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out, your hands flying down to tangle them in the long strands of his hair. Johnny worked his tongue in slow and clever strokes, leaving your mind reeling with pleasure and taking his time to take you apart piece by piece, not even paying attention to your leaking center or your aching clit. But when he did wrap his lips around your clit to gently suck on the nub, your mind almost went numb with how intense his touch was, your thighs clamping shut around him. To make it even worse, he started humming around you while prying your thighs back open, holding you down with his large hands. You felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast now that he was altering between teasing your clit with his tongue, lips and even his teeth and fucking your velvety walls with his tongue, setting your nerve endings on fire. “Johnny I’m close,” you warned him but instead of slowing down, he stretched his jaw wide to press his tongue further into you, his nose bumping into your clit in the process and with the combined sensation and his doubled effort, it took no time for your first orgasm of the night to wash over you, a scream of his name leaving your lips as you shook through it, your mind going equally as numb as your legs.

When you came back to it, Johnny had straightened up between your legs and he was grinning down at you while he was unbuttoning his shirt, his face still shiny with your arousal. “That was the first one,” he spoke darkly. “Come here,” you whined, making grabby hands for him until he took pity on you and covered your body with his before connecting your lips in a bruising kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips but that somehow just made it even hotter.

“Want you inside me,” you panted against his lips when Johnny broke the kiss in favor of raking his teeth over your racing pulse. “Yeah?” He rasped and ground his hips down into yours, making you feel him strain against the fabric of his pants. “Need it,” you moaned at the sweet friction. “Think you can take me?” He laughed as he leaned back on his hunches to pop open the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper agonizingly slow. With wide eyes you watched him push his pants down his narrow hips, leaving him in just his navy boxers that showed the sizable imprint of his hard cock, the fabric against the head dark from where he had leaked precum. Chuckling, he stroked over the outline and just the sight alone made your mouth water. “Show me,” you breathed, spreading your thighs so he could see your needy core, clenching around nothing. “Hmm,” he hummed, dragging one of his fingers that wasn’t preoccupied with teasing himself through the mess of arousal and his saliva between your legs, only barely dipping it into you to feel the muscles trying to suck him inside. “Don’t tease me,” you whined high in your throat. “But I like seeing you squirm,” Johnny grinned but took mercy on you and sunk his finger into you up to the knuckle, gently pumping it inside you. Still sensitive from how intense your last orgasm had been, you were torn between pulling away and wanting more but Johnny made the decision for you when he pulled his finger out, wiping your arousal onto your thigh.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded and finally freed his cock from his briefs. “Fuck.” The curse left your lips without even noticing at the sight of his flushed cock, too heavy to properly stand up against his toned abs. The tip was tinted red and shiny with precum that Johnny generously spread down that whole length, his eyes not leaving yours as you watched him lazily jerk himself. “Like what you see?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Want it inside me.” “Yeah? Show me.”

Throwing all caution out of the window, you quickly sucked two of your fingers between your lips before guiding them to your weeping core to slip them inside you, letting out an over-exaggerated moan as you crooked them. “Oh you’re so naughty, baby,” Johnny groaned, squeezing the base of his cock tightly as he watched you fingering yourself and if you had even one coherent thought left in your head, you’d have the decency to be embarrassed because of how intensely he was staring. “It’s not enough,” you pouted, pulling your fingers free and spreading them to look at the slick covering them, “I’m so wet for you.” “Such a dirty mouth,” he groaned, quickly grabbing his pants to fish a condom from his wallet to roll over his hard length. “Please, Johnny,” you hiccupped, winding your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you. “Sssh, princess,” he soothed you, running his hands over your torso before bending down to press tender kisses to your stomach, “I’ll take care of you.” “Please kiss me.”

Dropping his elbows next to your head to support his weight, he covered your body with his and caught your lips in a kiss much too tender for your current situation, taking his time to explore your mouth until you were perfectly pliant beneath him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered into the small space between you while he snaked a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your core. When the head slipped in without much resistance, both of you let out twin moans of pleasure. Painstakingly slowly Johnny pushed inside you, centimeter by centimeter until his hips were flush to yours. “Breathe, princess,” he reminded you because you indeed had held your breath and had buried your nails in his biceps. “Shit, you’re big,” you cursed. “So I’ve been told,” Johnny chuckled and peppered your face and neck with little kisses while he slowly ground his hips so you could get used to him inside you.

“Move,” you demanded after a while.   “What’s the magic word baby?” He grinned. “Please, Johnny,” you whimpered, clenching down on him. “Once more.” “Don’t make me beg.” “But you sound so pretty when you do,” he chuckled, only barely moving his hips. “Johnny please,” you whined, trying your best to move on his cock on your own but the angle was just not working out. “Oh, you want to do the work?” “I want you to move,” you groaned, pawing at his chest.

“But I think you’d look so pretty riding my cock,” Johnny rasped and in one fluid movement, he had sat up and pulled you onto his lap. Shit, it felt like he was even deeper now. “Come on, princess.” Whining, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled your legs beneath you so you could lift your hips up to make his cock smoothly slide out, the friction just right before you slowly dropped back down again, earning you an appreciative groan from Johnny. “That’s right, baby,” he praised you as you slowly found a comfortable pace, swiveling your hips until the angle was just right. Tightening the grip you had on his shoulders to use it as leverage, you began riding him in earnest, impaling yourself on his cock over and over again until your head was spinning and your thighs started to burn. “Come on, doll,” Johnny grinned, catching one of your nipples between his lips. Whining, you rolled your hips faster until your thighs began shaking. “Need help?” He just grinned, his big hands holding onto your hips to help you move up and down his cock at a steadier pace. “Please Johnny,” you hiccupped, hiding your face in his neck to ground yourself, “Please fuck me.” “Am I not doing just that?” He chuckled, filthily grinding his cock inside you. “Do it right,” you panted into his skin, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby.” He didn’t have to tell you twice, it was almost comical how quickly you obeyed his command and arched your back for him. “Hmm, that’s it,” he praised you, tracing the curve of your spine with his hands until he reached the space between your shoulder blades where he gently pushed down to make you arch even further. “So good and pliant for me, just waiting to be filled.” “Please,” you just whined again, past the point of caring about how pathetic you sounded, begging for his cock. “Say it baby,” he demanded, slapping his cock against your wet folds. “Please fuck me Johnny. Please. I want your cock inside me so badly. Want you to fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name anymore. Please I need it. I-“ your frantic rambling got cut off by the surprised moan leaving your lips as he thrust into you without any warning. “Don’t hold back baby,” Johnny rasped before gripping your hips tightly to finally fuck you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping together loud in the otherwise silent room. “God, your ass looks amazing,” he moaned, burying himself in your tight heat over and over again, mesmerized by how his cock was glistening in the low light and how easily your body opened up for him, “You’re basically made to take my cock.” You could only mewl at his dirty words and fist the sheets tightly in your hands as you tried to meet his thrusts as best as you could while you felt like you got your soul fucked right out of you.

“Feels so good,” you slurred when you felt the familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap, clenching around Johnny’s cock. “God baby, if you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum,” Johnny cursed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up against his chest, the pace of his hips only getting faster. “Please Johnny. Want it inside,” you whined, letting him use your body how he wanted to relish in the low moans he let out. “You want me to fill you up baby?” “Want it so bad, Johnny,” you mewled. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock and I’ll give you anything you want.” And oh god. You had never thought that the strained sound of a couple of words could be enough to actually trip you over the edge but the rasp in Johnny’s voice had you falling apart in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you so hard it had your thighs shaking. “Such a good girl,” Johnny praised you before he let out a low guttural moan and fucked into you once – then twice – before his hips came to a halt, emptying his cum inside the condom.

For a while you two just panted loudly before Johnny gently laid you back down onto the mattress, chuckling lowly when you whined at the loss of his cock. “Shit,” you giggled while he quickly got rid of the condom, throwing it in the general direction of your trashcan. So tender you could have missed it, Johnny pressed a row of kisses down your spine until he reached the swell of your ass. “Cuddle me,” you pouted, making grabby hands at him. “We’re sweaty, princess,” he laughed but gave in when you kept pouting. “I don’t care,” you whined, fitting your head beneath his, wrapping your arms and legs around his body to cling to him like a koala. “You’re cute,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“For how long did you know?” “Know what?” Johnny asked, clearly confused. “That I was your secret admirer.” “I didn’t.” “It was so obvious,” you groaned. “Okay maybe I got a hunch after we started that group project. But you never said anything.” “What was I supposed to say? Oh Johnny, by the way, I’m the one who has been writing you cringey love letters for like half a year already. Please go out with me?” That made Johnny laugh, the sound melodic in the quiet of your room. “I would have said yes, you know?” He spoke lowly, “I’ll miss your letters.” “What makes you think I will stop writing them?” “Because you can tell me all that stuff in person now when we go on dates.” “We’ll go on dates?” “That’s what people do when they like each other, princess,” Johnny chuckled, “And I really like you. Both as my secret admirer and my classmate.” “Oh my god stop,” you whined, hiding your hot face in his chest, feeling shy all of a sudden while Johnny was just laughing.

“I like you too,” you eventually mumbled once it had gotten quiet again. “I figured,” he teased you. “I changed my mind,” you immediately shot back, rising from where you were cuddled into his chest but every other protest died on your tongue when you saw his dreamy expression, his honey eyes finding yours and completely ignoring the fact that you were still very much naked. “Date me,” he said. “Okay,” you answered, easily meeting his lips in a sweet kiss that wouldn’t be the last one you two shared tonight.

“Hello and welcome back, that was Middle Of The Night by Monsta X, suggested to us by raibebe through our Twitter with the hashtag JonJaeLoveTalk. We’re your DJ’s John-D.” “And Jae-D on NCT Night Night. Hello again to all of our listeners. John-D.” “Yes Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Something is off today. I looked through our mail and there was no letter from your secret admirer.” “Oh really,” he feigned surprise. “Either they didn’t send anything in or our director got sick of the pining.” “I can calm you right back down Jae-D,” Johnny smiled, “Because she simply doesn’t need to send any more letters. I finally found her.” “No way. For real? And you didn’t tell me? I have to find out through our radio show? Friendship is dead,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Jae-D you know you’ll always be the number one in my heart, you know that.” At that Jaehyun let out fake gagging noises that made both friends chuckle.

“No but for real. I finally found her and asked her out. It’s going great so yeah,” Johnny shrugged, “In case you’re listening baby: I’m dropping by later and bring sushi.” “This is so domestic already,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically, “Where is my secret admirer?” “Maybe you could find love as well if you stopped acting like the textbook example of a frat boy.” “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Smiling, you leaned back on your sofa and listened to your boyfriend bickering with his best friend. Boyfriend. That sounded good even though it still felt unreal. Love Letters weren’t dead after all it seemed.

[fumingspice]

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests. 

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched. 

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for. 

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

[unleashedart]

Diabetic Showdown

Happy (late) birthday @strafethesesinners I’ve had so much fun writing stuff together and we talked about this one a lot but never actually wrote it so I hope you like it. I don’t know why but I wrote it from Cooper’s POV. Just straight up stole your man… anyways…

Summary: Ryan and Cooper’s first meeting is more than a little eventful.

Rating: T

“S-36 to dispatch! We are going to need PD over here, quickly please!” The slightly distressed radio message came over slightly staticky but Cooper jolted up immediately.

He was still relatively new to the job but he always was ready to jump in to defend people who were in trouble.

“Received S-36 we will dispatch PD immediately.” The dispatcher responded back.

“Rook, do you know what that means?” Deputy Pratt was his partner for the day to help show him around while he was still new.

Cooper disliked Pratt but he didn’t have a choice but to follow the man around all day.

“Yeah, it sounds like someone needs help. I think we are nearby.” Cooper said.

“No, dipshit- I mean yes, we are going to go to that but- ughhh nevermind I’ll tell you later.” Pratt growled irritatedly.

He picked up the radio and announced, “Pratt and McCoy, we are only 5 minutes away we will respond over.”

“Received. Let us know if you need back up.” The dispatcher acknowledged.

“Anyways I was saying, do you know what S-36 is and the radio signs?” Pratt asked.

“No.” Cooper shrunk back a little.

“Each letter before the number means something different. D is for driver. They just drive the ambulances. B is for EMT basics. P is for the paramedics and S is for the supervisors. It just helps us identify each type of person. The fire department also has letters before their numbers but usually they will say engine nine or whatever. EMS has to be difficult.” Pratt rolled his eyes, “at least since this new guy came and reworked a lot of protocols with his fancy city stuff. Things are a lot different here in Montana than the big city.”

Cooper nodded along to the first part and hoped that Pratt would stop talking soon. He didn’t really care about the technical stuff and wanted to get to the helping people.

“What the fuck.” Pratt and Cooper stared at the scene in front of them as they pulled in.

There was a middle aged lady attempting to throwing heavy stones at a young woman and ginger haired man who were standing too far away for the lady to reach them. She appeared to be rather weak and unable to throw each rock more than a couple inches. She was crying and screaming wildly.

“Hey! What is going on here?” Pratt and Cooper ran out of their car.

“Hello fellas!” The ginger man grinned at them as if they were talking over a morning coffee. “This is Miss Berkeley. She is diabetic and I believe her blood sugar is rather low or maybe it’s high but it’s probably low, we can’t check but obviously she’s a little upset right now so if you guys want to go play catch with her so we can get her medicated that would be great!”

Cooper stared blankly at the Ginger’s face. He was attractive and held a weird balance of cockiness and calm despite the situation. He has bright blue eyes like Cooper’s own and a smattering of freckles across his face. There was a single scar going horizontally across his nose. It was still red and pink meaning it was new within the year most likely. Cooper wondered what the story behind that was. Maybe he did something dumb like slip in the bathtub. Either way the scar added a certain kind of charm to his face. Cooper barely listened to the words but the casualness of his tone and note of authority made Cooper believe he was very good at what he did.

Cooper tore his eyes away from the pretty new ginger and at the lady who was picking up another large rock. He marched forwards the lady without hesitation and grabbed the rock from her grasp. She shrieked and lunged at Cooper only for him to side step her and quickly grab a hold of her arms behind her back.

“Ok y’all, I got her for you.” Cooper looked up to see the smile on the Ginger’s face.

“Thank you so much…” the ginger came forwards.

“Cooper. McCoy.” Cooper looked down at him.

“I’m Ryan Erkhart. That was very impressive but now we must get her onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.” Ryan pointed at the stretcher a few feet away.

“Well sure thing!” Cooper squeezed the woman’s biceps tightly and corralled her over to the stretcher were they laid her down. She was quiet and muttering to herself until they attempted to buckle her in where she resumed her screaming and crying. Her limbs thrashed wildly as she attempted to throw them off.

“Lily! Go grab the soft restraints!” Ryan called as he quickly grabbed a hold of one of her arms and Pratt grappled with the legs.

“So Cooper, you must be new. I promise you that it’s not always like this.” Ryan gave him a grin. “I need you to bring her arm up above her head and tie it there. We tie one arm up above their head and one arm down by their waist so they can’t get momentum.”

Cooper nodded and accepted the restraint from Lily. Once the woman was safely secured and lifted into the ambulance Cooper watched as Ryan and Lily worked but his eyes kept drifting towards the ginger as he seemed to become a completely different person. He watched as Ryan softly spoke to the patient even though she just attempted to throw rocks at him. He even jumped in to restrain the patient without hesitation which threw Cooper off for a moment. He was used to defending those who were smaller or less capable.

“Miss Berkeley would you please eat some of this glucose? Your sugar is low and I would really rather you eat this than me start an IV on you because I know you won’t like that.” Ryan waved the tube of glucose in front of her.

The woman grumbled but eventually opened her mouth. Ryan slowly started feeding her glucose as her hands were still restrained. Suddenly the woman jerked back and spat all the sugar directly at Ryan’s face.

“THIS IS DISGUSTING! YOU BASTARDS ARE THE DEVIL. DON’T FEED ME YOUR POTIONS!” She wailed and started shaking the restraints again.

“Ryan!” Both Lily and Cooper jumped to his aid.

“Ugh, I’m ok but now I’m gonna have to do an accidental exposure form and hope she doesn’t have Hepatitis or something.” Ryan wiped the sugar from his face and grabbed a bottle to wash his eyes out with. “I’ll be right back to sedate her and then start an IV so we can give her glucose.”

Cooper watched with worry as Ryan dumped several bottles of sterile water into his eyes. Eventually he came back and accepted the towel handed to him. Cooper stared at his wet hair the clung to his face and drenched the front of his shirt.

“Do you want to press charges?” Pratt asked impatiently.

“No. It’s ok.” Ryan shrugged. “She really is a nice lady. I’ve met her a few times before. When she wasn’t hypoglycemic, she showed me her teapot collection once. She’s just confused and sick.”

“Right. Whatever you say.” Pratt sighed. “Well if you’re done with us can we leave?”

“I think one of you should accompany us to the hospital.” Ryan walked back over to Miss Berkeley who was still screaming somehow.

“Cooper you’re with them. I’ll find you later.” Pratt turned around without a second thought.

Cooper opened his mouth to remind Pratt that he had no idea how to find him or what to do but he was already back in the car. Cooper turned to look at Ryan and Lily as Ryan injected a sedative into her arm. The effect was almost immediate as she settled down and Ryan started the IV to give her the medication. Cooper enjoyed watching him work. The way his nimble fingers made it all look so easy. He barely knew this man but already Cooper was fascinated.

“Well?” Cooper snapped out of his daze to see Ryan holding his hand out to get into the back of the ambulance. “We are ready to leave.”

“Right, coming.” Cooper said sheepishly as he grabbed Ryan’s hand.

“Welcome aboard, cowboy.” Ryan patted him on the back.

Cooper was sure that this was going to be the start of something very, very interesting. He hoped that his and Ryan’s path crossed a lot more in the future.

[thgreatestblue]

false god [part II]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mention of prostituion, past trauma, smut, fluff (if you squint) ➜ words: 7.5k ➜ a/n: let’s start this hell of a year with a very long and spicy chapter, shall we? this is the second part of my fic false god, and i’m so excited to hear your thoughts for this chapter. thanks to everyone who left comments or likes, it made me so excited that now i’m already writing the third and final chapter!  ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part I] / false god [part III]

summary: The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now.

III.

The stars were brighter on this side of the country; there were an infinity of them, painting a beautiful pathway to heaven throughout the horizon. The sky was illuminated by their shine, in a space of time where they danced around the galaxy and lit up each corner of the universe, never letting darkness prevail. 

Or, it was just because you have been so afraid of the night for so many years, that only now you were able to fully appreciate its beauty. How the moonshine gleamed over the flowers and the petals seemed to sparkle tiny bits of stars over their form, so delicate you were afraid of touching — the white ones were your favorite, smooth like satin. 

Kokushibou’s house was in the countryside, in the middle of nowhere. The servants even had a special wagon and a few horses for when they needed to buy supplies. It was far away from the city noises; the chatting and the everyday life. Far away from the smell of cement and street food. From people; good and bad. From memories and dreams. From everything. 

It's been a few weeks since the first time you stepped into this world, one that was kinder than you expected. The servants were always calm, doing their tasks in such a peaceful motion that it was soothing to watch. It was a perfect mundane life, going to sleep covered in comfortable blankets instead of stick sweat, eating with others while talking without fear of being too loud. 

It was strange to think that everyday you caught yourself thinking this was a dream; because everytime you look at the flowers in the backyard, every time you felt the wind on your face and the warmth of the sun on your skin, you remembered of long lost dreams about having a normal life, hopes that were on the verge of dying, resurfacing in the deeps of your mind. It made your dreams a little bit happier, almost as if you were floating in a different dimension. 

The house had two floors; the first one is were the kitchen, the living room, the dinning room, and where the servant’s bedrooms were located — and even though when you lived with Muzan you had your own room, you didn't mind sharing with another girl if it meant to stay in this peace forever. 

The second floor though, you didn't know much about it. Only that it was where Kokushibou bedroom was, and where he spent most of his time, since he would only appear when the sun settled down. Sometimes you would hear heavy footsteps and noises of something being hit multiple times, so maybe it had a training room as well. 

You were on the second floor only a few times, most of them by his request — to ask you how things were going, if you were adjusting to the job. It was so unfamiliar, having a Demon, of all people, being so polite and thoughtful of your well being. You were definitely not used to kindness — to someone showing a minimum of respect — that everytime you would slightly blush, looking at his feet rather than his face. 

It was so out of your comfort zone, being treated like a human being. You sometimes had to laugh at how twisted your world had become to think that a simple “good morning!” from one of the servants was an act of generosity. One day you caught yourself tearing up as you watched the sunrise from the window. 

To what extent have you been broken? The pieces you always tried to put it back together now didn't seem to fit anymore; it was going to be a long way to find the right materials to build a new house for your heart, but at least you were given the chance to try. And if anyone had told you it was because of a Demon, you would have laughed. 

Kokushibou's presence was still heavy and unsettling for you. It still managed to keep you on your toes. Whenever he would appear from his bedroom, or even hearing his voice from another room, a red siren would go off in your mind. It was still a rooted fear you couldn't help feeling, no matter how much you repeated to yourself that everything was fine. 

His gaze on you didn't help the seed of doubt from staying rooted on your mind. Although the Demon didn't stay in the house at night — preferring going out and coming back only when the sun was about to show in the sky. However, on rare days when he chose to remain home, you would always try your best to stay far away; washing the dishes in the kitchen, feeding the horses, anything other than being at his company. 

It wasn't because you were afraid, not exactly, the old lady had said that in the beginning it was normal to stay alert when in his presence. It was something else. How his eyes seemed to always find its way to you, fixing on watching your movements from afar, traveling down your body when you were cleaning a room, or even when you were just standing next to him. 

You still remember how high you jumped one night when Kokushibou decided that it was a good idea asking for more towels for his bathroom by whispering in your ear. You’ve been dealing with Demons and men for so long in your life, it wasn't now that you were going to slip into wherever game he was playing. So, you tried your best to ignore those little things, moving on with your life as if his glance didn't make something crawl under your skin, begging to be scratched. 

As the night came and Kokushibou decided to stay inside, you found yourself in the kitchen, washing the dishes from the dinner. There’s a beautiful song playing on the radio, and the sweet melody makes you lose track of time, lost in imaginary scenarios and charming tales. When you come back, the dishes are done. 

Taking a long look at the kitchen, you notice that there’s nothing else to do; which means that you would have to come to the living to see if Kokushibou wanted something else, or you could go to sleep. You take a deep breath, leaving the apron on the table as you walk towards the room. The song is still playing but the volume has been tuned down. 

Kokushibou is seated next to the bookcase, reading. He seems so peaceful and unharmful like that — if it wasn't for those pair of eyes, you would have never guessed he was a Demon. His hair is always tied up on a ponytail, and sometimes you can’t help but imagine how he would look with it down. You immediately shake your head, trying to erase those intrusive thoughts that have been more frequent by each day. 

“Kokushibou-dono.” 

As a habit, you bow to announce your presence. As you look around, you notice that there’s no one in the room besides him. Probably already too late in the night to have many servants around, you glance at the clock and it was indeed past midnight. Before you can say anything else, he closes the book, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

“Do you know how to dance, Y/N?” 

Saying that you were surprised by the question was an understatement. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out of it. Well, you did know how to dance, however, you highly suspect that it wasn’t that type of dance he was referring to. Your heartbeat starts to accelerate, something you were already used to when in the same room as the man.

“No, Kokushibou-dono,” Your voice sounds weaker than you intended, but that was another thing you were getting used to; apparently your body liked to react as a mess when in his presence, “I’ve never had the chance to learn.”

Kokushibou nods, getting up from the pillow he was seated on. And even after weeks, it was still mesmerizing to watch him move; how his hair would graciously swing from one side to another, his posture always so elegant and refined, even the way he walked was hypnotizing. He definitely was born as someone who belonged to a royal family. You wondered why, then. Why did he turn into a Demon if he was so skilled and polished like a real diamond?

“Follow me.” 

Before you can think too much about it, you follow him. Hands on your back, picking at your nails as anxiety starts to settle on your stomach; the odd feeling on your gut appearing from nowhere to poke at you, telling you to be careful and keep your eyes open. You watch him turn the volume a little bit higher.

“It gets easier once you learn the basics.” He says, looking at you from the middle of the room. The radio was playing a delicate melody that was perfect to put you to sleep, although right now not even the sweetest song would be able to calm you down. 

“… I don't understand.” You say, shifting your weight from one leg to another.

“I’m teaching you how to dance.” Kokushibou simply explains, fixing the sleeves of his kimono with a serene expression; as if nothing was wrong, as if this was normal.

You hold your breath as he extends his hand in your direction. The look on his eyes is almost inviting if it wasn't for the fact that he was a Demon, and above everything else, your lord. There's a very fragile line Kokushibou is crossing by inviting you to dance, inviting you to be intimate with him. And you're not sure if you are ready to face the consequences — to take a step in a territory that he has been cornering you since the moment you arrived. 

However, like everything in your life, you don't have a choice. So, you release the air you were holding, pressing your lips together as each step in his direction starts to consume your entire body. Kokushibou's gaze is fixed on your face — if becoming a mess of yourself in front of him was one of your habits, his stare on you was one of his. 

You hesitate before touching his hand. His fingers brush against your palm, so delicate that you have to double remember yourself of your position, of who the man was. Kokushibou hands were rough and big against yours, but held your palm on his with a tender flow. You bite your lips as he grabs your other hand and puts on his shoulder.

Kokushibou hums with the song as his other hand comes to rest on the small of your back; the sound vibrates in his chest and through your skin. It was as if you were struck by lightning; every hair on your body standing with every touch. 

“It’s an easy six steps tempo, just follow my lead.” Kokushibou’s voice so close to your ears is sinful; it’s dangerous. His low tone always did things to your stomach, and you knew it wasn't because of fear. 

Kokushibou nods at you before taking a few steps around, leading your body to move with his own. He’s so close you can feel his heat, the ghost of his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine. It takes all of your will to not stare at his hand holding yours, your legs already having some trouble to work properly.

“I’m sorry...” You flinch as you step on his foot, but he doesn't say anything. 

It was quite an easy dance, and the way Kokushibou lead you made it even easier — if it wasn't for your nervousness it would have been almost fun. You watched his feet move from side to side until the rhythm was stuck in your mind, focusing on the dance instead of his body so close to yours - which was hard, every step making you come closer and closer. 

“Eyes on me.” Kokushibou whispers close to your ear. 

You immediately look up at him, his voice takes you out of the trance you had created to stay safe. And it takes only one look at him to make everything come crumbling down. The hand on your back brings you closer and your mouth slightly parts, breathing through it seems easier when his chest comes to touch yours. 

Kokushibou squeezes your hand lightly as your eyes travel down his face. Up close like this, you can see each detail, his title of Upper-Moon One carved on his eyes, the texture of his perfect skin, the intrinsic shape of the red marks adorning his forehead — he’s indeed a beautiful man with interesting features. 

It’s only when he hums again with the song that you realize you have been staring at his mouth for too long, a smirk growing at the corners of it is enough to shake you out of your trance; cheeks going warm and red in shame. Kokushibou presses a little closer to your body and you feel like combusting in flames with the feeling of his breath against your neck.

The song slowly fades away, and he continues to guide you as it finally comes to an end. Kokushibou gradually stops his movements, but still holds your hand, maintaining you in place. And you don’t know what to do with yourself; standing in the middle of the room with his stare still pinning you down, the touch of his rough hands still holding yours. 

“Thank you, Kokushibou-dono.” It takes all of the strength left in your body to pull back, taking a few step backwards. 

You are the first one to move and break the little bubble you two created. Kokushibou nods, letting you go from his hold. The weight of his hand still linger on your back, a ghostly feeling that you knew wouldn't go away that easily, if ever. 

“Good night.” You could only hope your voice wasn’t trembling as much as you were on the inside.

You bow, turning around and making your way back to your room. Trying your best not to run from his gaze, form his touch, from everything that had happened in the past few hours. 

With your heartbeat on your throat and the phantom feeling of his body still pressed into yours, you scream into the pillow until fatigue comes to take over you — putting you out of your misery, for now at least.

IV.

You could complain as much as you wanted, but Kokushibou’s home was so much better than Muzan’s. The opportunity to stay in the sun in the morning, feel the breeze hitting your skin as you washed the bedding in the backyard, the warm of the sun on your skin everyday even helped gaining a little more of color. As the summer went by; the sight of rain gracing your eyes, birds flying around the field with their beautiful singing, you realized how deprived you’ve been from simple things. 

For 3 years you had stayed in the dark, almost never leaving Muzan’s house — surrounded by darkness and the metallic smell of blood, with no friends to help you when the nights were too scary. The only thing you liked was the sounds of the city, but even that became a nightmare, to think that there were so many victims in a single place would give you so much anxiety. 

Even though Kokushibou was still a Demon, this was a far cry from the place you were just a few months ago. You couldn't say it was the best option though, you were still involved with a supernatural being that could easily kill you in a blink of an eye. The only difference was that he did seem to respect who worked for him — and an extra interest in you. 

Taking another bite of a very sweet apple, you swing your leg casually, humming a random song while you were sitting on the big porch at the back of the house. The yard extended until it reached an infinity of trees, covering your view of the pond a few minutes from the house. You had heard it was a beautiful place, but havent had the time to go yet. 

“Y/N, Kokushibou-dono is calling for you.” The old lady calls you from the window. You silently nod, taking a long breath before looking at the sky. 

It had been a few weeks since he invited you to dance; since he had touched you in such an intimate way that no lord should be touching his servants. The odd sensation still lingered in your gut, but the feeling of his firm body against yours, his big and strong hand on the small of your back, the warmth of his breath against your skin, his lips inches from your neck… Gods, it was enough to send you to a place where you wouldn't be able to come back even if you tried; already lost in those six eyes all over again. 

It has been a tough task to pretend that the small moment didn't affect you. The aftertaste stuck in your tongue like the sweetest apple you’ve ever eaten, and you hated to see yourself in such a state. Everytime he would enter a room, every time his eyes stared at you, hearing his voice… Your body would tense, goosebumps spreading through your body, but this time not because of fear. 

No man has ever had this impact on you, and you’ve been with quite a lot of them. 

It was still afternoon, the sun shining in the sky was a sight you would never take from granted again. What does he want with me now? You ponder, thinking about the last time he had asked for you. You were supposed to just hand him the ink, but of course he had to touch your hand for a little bit too long while grabbing it. 

What Kokushibou wanted from you was something you could only imagine, there was nothing predictable about him. But if you dared to listen to the odd feeling in your gut, you knew exactly what it was going to happen — you were just denying it at this point. 

Throwing away the rest of the apple, you make your way upstairs with your heart in your throat. Each step closer to his bedroom felt like an eternity, the hallway seeming like an endless corridor while the tension building up in your muscles were making your body ache. Stopping by his door, you run your hand through your hair; fixing the few strands that had escaped from your bun behind your ears. You take a deep breath to calm down your nerves before knocking on the door.

There’s a small pause before you can hear the sound of a chair dragging just a little across the floor, you can practically feel the expectancy choking you as you hear him stepping closer. You bite down your bottom lip right at the moment Kokushibou decides to open the door.

“Kokushibou-dono, how can I help you today?” You try to sound as casual as possible, trying your best to ignore the way his eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds before meeting your eyes. 

“Come in,” He says, walking back inside his bedroom, “And close the door.”

A strong chill runs down your spine and you have to strain yourself from quivering; a thin layer of sweat is forming on the palm of your hands, but you quickly clean it on your clothes. There was no use to be nervous right now, you were already at the predator’s door, head right inside his mouth, just waiting for its teeth to sink on your neck and break it. 

Kokushibou's presence brought another type of nervousness, one that left you shaking from head to toe; but instead of cold settling in your stomach, it was pure fire consuming your entire being. 

As you step inside, closing the door with your back, you take a quick look at the room. It’s fairly simple and definitely what you expected; a big and expensive futon is placed right in the middle, the bedding is clean and tidy up — something he probably never uses but keeps it as a habit. There’s two paper lanterns at each side of the futon, the light coming from them is minimal, leaving the room with a somewhat cozy atmosphere. 

You see him standing beside a table by the corner of the room. There’s a few books piled up at one side, a wooden tray with a few bottles and glasses on the other. He picks one of the bottles and pours himself a glass, filling just half of it. 

The liquid is thick and dark; you can’t see what it is, but you have an idea — Muzan used to drink blood in front of you all the time, and you always wondered when he would want to drink directly from a source. Then, he picks another bottle, and pours another glass. The liquid seems more diluted and a shader brighter, this time the smell hits your nostrils; it’s wine. 

Kokushibou grabs both of the glasses, and holds one in your direction. He looks calm and collected; there’s no room to interpret his actions, his features never giving away what he was really thinking. The light hits one side of his face, the other is half hidden by the shadows, but it’s clear how all of his eyes are staring at you, his hair is in a perfect ponytail, swinging perfectly as he moves to hand you the glass.

“...Thank you.” Fingers brushing against yours, you take the glass. 

Your gut screams something you can’t seem to hear; it seems like your mind went numb the moment you entered the room — not listening to any of the alarms that went off in your head. You can only feel your stomach tossing and turning around as you watch the man leaning on the table, studying you from behind the shadows like a predator plotting how to kill its prey.

“Before working for Muzan-sama, you worked at Yoshiwara.” Kokushibou says in a low tone, taking a sip of the drink.

Immediately, your cheeks burn. You clench your jaw as the sour memories start to come back from the deepest of your mind. He wasn't asking a question, it was rather a statement - and you had a few ideas how he got that information. Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a long sip of the wine — and for the first time you’re glad that he decided to give you the beverage.

“I worked for Daki for some time,” You tell him, feeling the bitter taste in each word, “She introduced me to Muzan after I kept my promise of not telling anyone about her.”

It wasn't something you were proud of, not in the slightest. You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. You had been so close from dying that night that anything else felt so little, compared to facing a Demon with a bloodlust so high that you couldn't count how many bodies you had seen that night. 

However, it was covering up that atrocity, or dying. And you didn't want to face what afterlife had in store for you that soon. So you begged and cried, and like a miracle, Daki gave you the benefit of the doubt. After that, it only took 5 months from that incident for you to come work at Muzan’s house; selling your fate once again. 

“So you did work at a brothel, didn't you?” His fingers tap the wooden table and you have to hold yourself still, trying not to shrink under his words. He stops the glass midway from his mouth, choosing to drink your reaction instead. 

You did work as a prostitute, didn't you?

The silent question hangs in the air, you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth, to move. It was quite clear that he knew everything about you, there was no need to lie or hide any information, it would only piss him off. 

However, the fact that he was making you say it - confirming the fact himself — was something that felt a bit degrading. You finally nod, not being able to find your voice anymore. Then again, it wasn't something you were proud of — apparently, you weren't proud of anything in your life. 

Kokushibou slowly takes a sip of his drink then, eyes traveling down from your face to your body; studying every inch of your being. And every single part his eyes gazed upon, it would set your skin in flames, until you were combusting in anticipation.

“Show me.”

Your heart stops beating for a second only to come back at full force; and it hurts your chest, the impact leaves your rib cage aching at each pound of your desperate heart.  

“...I beg your pardon?” You had to ask, you probably heard it wrong and this was your mind playing tricks with you, you knew how twisted it could get. There was no chance that Kokushibou was asking you to...

“I told you to show me,” He says in a challenging tone, raising an eyebrow, “Or did you lose your touch?” 

Suddenly, everything falls into place.

The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now. 

All those long stares, the need to touch your skin every time he had the chance, the dance… Everything was just small steps he was taking, leading you to a direction he had in mind since the beginning. Building you up for this moment; so you wouldn't hesitate, so you wouldn't run away; afraid of what might happen.

Kokushibou wasn’t a stranger asking for your services, not anymore. Because you had had a taste beforehand, because he had built you up into someone who would want him as much as he apparently wanted you.

The worst part was: it worked.

“What if i don't want to?” 

All your life you were never given an option. It was selling your body or dying in the streets. It was waking up everyday knowing that you were covering up dozens of murders, or being murdered by the hand of a Demon. It was hearing screams of agony as you laid your head on the pillow, or being the one devoured. It was never what you wanted, but what you needed to do to survive. However, for this you needed to have a choice.

“Then, you can turn around and leave.” He says with no heat in his voice, motioning towards the door.

For some twisted reason, now that you truly knew what he wanted from you all this time, you relaxed. The tension left your bones as your mind processed his words. Your gut didn’t scream anymore, the pitch of your stomach now was filled with another type of warmth. 

Kokushibou was a beautiful man, and somehow you knew this wasn't going to be bad. Not when he could have just pushed you in a room and had his way. Probably it was his pride not letting him act so animalistic, choosing to have a partner that was on the same page; reciprocity.

You finish the rest of the wine in one single gulp, letting the drink burn down your throat. 

Approaching him, you sensually bite your bottom lip, letting the glass on the table before slowly getting down on your knees — if you were really going to do this, then you would put on a show. 

Feather touching his thighs, you leave a few soft kisses on his crotch over his clothes, he hums in response, watching you closely as you grow bolder with open mouth kisses, feeling his cock respond to the stimulus through the thin fabric.

Kokushibou licks his lips, glass long forgotten by his side — you had his full attention now. His hands were gripping at the side of the table as he watched you; and you made sure to watch him back, each moment caught by your eyes; two could play this game. As soon as you start to untie the knot of his hakama, his hand comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb caressing it while the other fingers wrapped around your neck. 

You tease at first, lapping and sucking sweetly at his head, your hands squeezing at the base. His taste is strong and heavy on your mouth, a little bit salty but you don’t mind. You look at him between half open eyes, batting innocently your eyelashes at him. He groans low in satisfaction, as you feel his cock grow harder on your tongue. You think about keeping teasing him, but then he eagerly pulls your neck closer, and you swallow down his full length in a swift motion. 

It hits the back of your throat, and you have to fight back your gag reflex — it has been quite a while since you did this. He groans louder in approval, still rubbing your cheek while you swallow down his length again. Hands starting to move up and down, you fall into an easy pacing, bobbing up and down your head as you suck his cock, lips closed tight around it to give the right amount of pressure. 

Kokushibou's hand grips even tighter around your neck each time you swallow him down, tongue rubbing against his length. A little bit of saliva drips down the corner of your mouth and he cleans it with his thumb, running it over your bottom lip that is now red and swollen. You glance up at him, always trying to keep eye contact. 

His eyes start to fall half open, mouth slightly open, his breathing starting to become unsteady. You reach between his thighs to stroke his balls, and his moan vibrates through his body and you can feel it on your mouth. It makes you eager, sucking him harder, wanting to hear more of those sounds coming from him. 

And because you can’t help, you let your teeth slightly scrape along his cock. The sharp inhale Kokushibou takes is music to your ears. He grips your hair and pulls it as punishment, making you whine at the burning sensation on your scalp, but it’s worth it. 

The grip on your hair tightens as he pulls your head back until only the tip of his cock is inside your mouth. Then, he bucks his hips further; fucking your mouth in a ruthless pace. All you can do is take it, holding onto his tights as hard as you can, trying to not gag as he shoves his cock down your throat. You can taste his precum filling your mouth, heavy on your tongue. 

He pulls your head back again, and you release his cock from your mouth with a loud pop.

"That's enough.” He commands, voice low and rough that makes you shiver. You watch his cock stand against his stomach in full length, he’s big, “Now, undress.”

Before getting up though, you lick at the side of his cock, from the base to the tip, leaving a wet kiss at his head and Kokushibou groan resonates through his chest. He unties the ribbon that was holding your bun, and your hair falls loosely on your back. 

All of his six eyes are following your movements as you stand, fixed on each swing of your hips, each batting of eyelashes you throw at him. What once made you flinch, now is more than welcoming. It sets on your bones like a tender touch, sweet like honey as you savor all of his lust. Lust for you. 

You move your body sensually; throwing back your loose hair to show more of your neck, running your hands down your chest as each piece of clothing falls into the floor. Now that you knew exactly what to do — what he really wanted from you — it was so much easier to stay under his gaze without quivering, even when he started to lazily stroke his cock while watching you undress. 

When the last piece of clothing falls into the floor, you turn around, spinning on your heels. It had been awhile since you showed off your naked body to someone, the confidence that you had a few years ago decreased slightly, but seeing how Kokushibou was affected by the display — hand now stroking his cock faster — was enough to dismiss all the doubt starting to rise on the back of your mind. He has chosen you, after all.

You step closer, grabbing his kimono and sliding down his strong arms, tossing on the ground without batting an eye to see his reaction. At the first glimpse of his bare chest, your mouth waters. You knew he was strong, but hell, he was ripped. His body was so perfectly sculpted that you have to bite your lips to stop the small whine daring to escape your mouth. Your hands travel down his stomach, feeling the very defined muscles with the tip of your fingers. 

Kokushibou grabs your chin, his breath hits your skin like fire. It spreads down your body and you shiver from the ecstasy of his touch; there’s a certain expectation growing on your being, waiting patiently until the final moment when he decides to fuck you — and damn it your sanity for not wanting anything else right now. His eyes are locked on your lips, red and swollen from sucking his cock. He leans closer, but before he could meet your lips you pull back just a little bit.

“I don't kiss my clients.” Your voice comes out rasp, your lips brushing his. It’s an empty threat, however, you needed to tease him as much as you could before he fucked you out of your mind. 

“Good thing i’m not a client.” Kokushibou bites back, his grip tightens on your chin. 

He wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you come crashing into his body. You moan as his muscles rub against your nipples; feeling his cock, hot and erected, on your belly sends a wave of warmth down your belly. He moves his hips, slowly rubbing his cock on your clit. You throw your head back a little, moaning. 

“No. You aren't, my lord.” You manage to say between small whimpers of pleasure as he squeezes your ass and grinds harder against you. 

He groans at your words, and not wasting any more time, devours your mouth. It’s rough and borderline desperate, slamming your lips together with no room to breathe, the warmth of his skin intoxicating your better judgment. His mouth is unforgiven, teeth pulling and biting your bottom lip between kisses. You gasp in his mouth and he takes that as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside, yours coming to meet his, sliding against each other with desire on its tip. 

It’s dizzying the feeling of his touch on you, how he pulls your hair and runs his tongue on the seams of your lips. It clouds your head and increases your desire, making you rock against his body, your pussy pulses with desire, searching for some kind of relief from the tension building up on your lower belly. 

Kokushibou runs his lips down your neck, sucking then licking the spots he meets. It leaves you breathless, holding on his arms for dear life as he travels down your body and savors every single part of your tender skin. His tongue leaves trails of fire, marking each part with his saliva and brute carnal lust. 

Without any warning, Kokushibou bites down on your neck. It stings so much that you know it broke your skin, but you helplessly moan. It’s definitely going to bruise and it’s going to be ugly. But right now you don't care. He sucks the spot, drinking your blood as the best licor he ever had. 

Kokushibou sucks the sore spot again, making you whimper, before releasing you from his grip, pushing you away just a few inches so he could finish undressing the last pieces of clothing. And heavens, his body was even more perfect under the dim light coming from the lanterns; as the light casts shadows over his form, making the shape of his muscles sharper and defined. 

He puts both hands on your waist, motioning for you to walk towards the futon. Your heart beats faster on your chest. Kokushibou wasn’t a very vocal man, preferring showing what he wanted through actions. So, he pushes you, and you fall down on the soft surface with your legs open; his eyes immediately are filled with a different type of hunger, and you instantly can feel what he wants - though, this time, you wanted him to devour you. 

You hold yourself on your elbows as he kneels between your legs, and you can feel how wet you’re, though he didn't even do more than touch you. Damn, when did you become so desperate. You were already a mess, hair sticking on your forehead, breathing through your mouth because you can’t seem to make your lungs work anymore. 

Or maybe it was just him and his overpowering effect on you, like no one else ever did. 

His fingers hover over the delicate skin of your legs, traveling on the inside of your thigh in a feather touch that makes you whimper from how sensitive you are feeling from those small stimulations. You watch him from behind heavy lashes, his body in full glory over you should be a sin, it should be your salvation. 

How beautiful and desirable he was, standing in between your legs just like that, eating you out with just a gaze. You moan as you watch his body move, each muscle carved on his skin as a perfect work of art. Your eyes fall on his length and your pussy clench on nothing, wishing he would bury himself inside you already. 

“Turn around.” He commands in a low tone, leaning down and caging you in, hands fisted at either side of your head. 

Your breath gets caught up on your throat, suddenly he is so heavy above you that not a single thread of air gets on your lungs. You slowly nod, turning around so you would be lying on your stomach, then you push your hips backward, rubbing against his cock. The contact has both of you moaning. 

Kokushibou quickly grabs both sides of your hips to rub his cock between your folds, your head falls down between your shoulders as you moan desperately at his thrusts. His front is hot and firm against your back. But the way he’s teasing is tortuous; with slow drags of his length against your clit. It makes your whole body tremble underneath the pressure. 

“Kokushibou, please…” The pleading scapes your lips before you can process it. It makes your body burn in shame — never in years of working in the field you pleaded for someone. 

And you can feel how pleased he’s with himself when his mouth on your neck turns into a smirk. He bites down on your shoulder and you flinch, waiting for another wave of pain, but this time it’s gentle, still hard enough to leave a mark, though.

He positions his cock on your entrance, and you hold your breath, biting so hard on your bottom lip that you can taste blood. He pushes past your folds, pushing his way inside you so dangerously slow that has you moaning for more. You grip the sheets, knuckles going white. The burn that comes with him stretching you open is blinding, but you want more. 

You don’t know if he’s going slow on you because he wants to let you take your time to adjust to his size, or because he likes to see you plead for more. You try to push your hips backwards, to finally have his cock buried till the tip inside you, but he stops your movements with his strong hands, holding your hips in place. Yeah, definitely the latter.  

“Look at you, taking me all in with no struggle.” He purrs in your ear, still pushing half of his cock inside, “I’ll have to tell Daki that you are much more than what she sold you for.”

Your eyes grow wider with the confession, but before you can say anything, he shoves the rest of his length inside you and all the air is knocked off your lungs. He doesn't wait for you anymore, leaving just the very tip of his cock inside, then thrusting in you with enough force that has you tumbling over your arms, cheek buried in the sheets. 

Kokushibou falls into a rough rhythm, the sounds of skin on skin fills the bedroom as he slam his cock inside you, his nails digging deeper on your hips, biting down another spot on your shoulder. You moan, and then again, and again; each one louder than the other, not being able to hold back your voice with each drag of his cock. 

He deliciously stretches you open; the burning sensation fading away as pleasure overtakes it, your pussy clench around him, sucking him in. You thrust your hips to meet his movements, arching your back so your hips are higher, so he can go deeper. Every time he moans in your ear you feel yourself drifting from reality, mind clouded by the pleasure and by his voice. 

“Oh—nnh, harder,” 

With only his precum and your wetness easing his way, Kokushibou raw thrusts ruins you, making you feel each of them ten times more. The way he bites down on every inch of your body is animalistic, marking you all over. It’s going to be a pain to hide from the rest of the servants - but right now you can’t bring youself to think about that — asking him for more and more until you’re painted purple and blue. 

There’s no room to think, to breath. You were turned into a mess of whining and moans as he breaks you until there’s nothing left but your voice; hoarse, but surely screaming for him. He fucks you hard into the futon; your eyes roll back, toes curling with the upcoming orgasm, your entire body trembles over his thrusts.

Your knees almost give in, but Kokushibou holds your hips up, slamming inside you mercilessly, his moans starting to fill the room as well. The sounds coming from his thrusts are filthy and wet, but barely audible, your moans overtaking any type of noise. For once, you are grateful that this room doesn't have any windows, or else, everyone would’ve heard you by now — but you suspect that’s probably what he wants. 

“Aah, nnh, — K-Kokushibou!” You moan, not recognizing your own voice anymore.

Kokushibou cups your breast and squeezes harshly, dragging his nail over your nipple. You jerk away with the sting, but falls right back into his thrusts; it buries so deep inside you feel youself being torn apart, his cock throbbing inside meets the beats of your heart. Tears run down your cheeks, and he licks it as if he’s savoring each part of you that he can get. 

“You're a really one of a kind,” He whispers in your ear, biting down your lob, “And now, I have you all to myself.”

The heat on your stomach is unbearable, you can’t take it anymore, it’s consuming you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it. Your pussy tightens so hard around Kokushibou’s cock that he has to stop his thrusts, your scream is muffled by the sheets as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

Kokushibou doesn't let you catch your breath though. He pins your head down, slamming into you fast and rough that you have to ride down your orgasm while he continues to fuck you. You whimper, over sensitive, but he doesn't stop, moaning a bit louder as his thrusts starts to become more desperate and erratic. 

He comes inside you with a guttural moan that has you shivering, it shakes you down to your core, hitting the deepest part of your being. You moan while his cum, hot and thick, fills you up. 

Even though you were oversensitive, he continues to ride his orgasm lazyly thrusting into you until it starts to become borderline painful. Now that the adrenaline is leaving your body, you can feel your back aches from the position, your bones are heavy and all you want is to lay down and catch your breath.

Probably sensing your distress, Kokushibou stops his thrusts; but stays inside you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to the side, so both of you could lay on the futon. He buries his face on your neck, and even though the feeling of having a cock inside you after you both came is odd, you decide not to mention it. 

Your eyelids are heavy, you’re tired and still drunk from the orgasm. Usually at this moment you would get up and leave, but since Kokushibou didn't say or made any movement to let you go, you decide it’s safe enough to fall asleep just like that.

[flying-nightwing]

Sparks Must Fly to Start a Fire (1/2)

(spongebob theme voice) Are ya ready kids? OoooOooh, who keeps updating in the middle of the night? That-lit-tle-bitch!

Hey guys! I was supposed to do one chunky fic but uhhhh I decided to split it in two so (1) you can have it sooner and (2) not have to pay attention for 10k+ words because I’m there guys and it’s not over (doing this for my ADHD people lmao where y’all at). So yeah. I’m having mad fun with that one, I can’t seem to stop typing. All the tropes, people. All of them. For y’all. Can’t say I’m never doing anything for you (ok I might be trying to make up for the recent heartbreaks I caused). Stay tuned for more juicy stuff in part 2, and as always, enjoy 💕💕 

Masterlist in bio // pinned

Requested: Yes (anon)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 5477

Warnings: Language, violence.

Summary: When you make a move against your family, a known associate of big crime syndicates in Gotham, you find yourself in a precarious position of danger. Luckily, your new collaborator Bruce Wayne got an idea to keep you safe, which might not please the people involved. 

Note: In this house we stan flawed characters with room to grow (also Jason is bratty af in this but I swear it makes sense in these circumstances)

Day 1

“... For now, no assumptions can be made on the nature of the disappearance. No ransom note was sent to the family, according to the phone interview with the mother conducted by Gotham News, but the possibility of a money related kidnapping is not out of the question...”

Jason turned down the radio as he pulled into the driveway of the manor. He hadn’t been there in a while, but Bruce’s call sounded somewhat urgent. Usually, he would laugh in his face and hang up before he could even begin explaining himself. But a recent conversation he had kind of kicked him in the butt to at least try and rebuild some sort of family links with his adoptive father and brothers. He had been the last he reached out to, but he got there. And he knew he would have to be the bigger person at some point, so he agreed to hear Bruce out this time.

He pulled his sunglasses and let them hang on his t-shirt, adjusting his leather jacket, before getting out of his car. He walked around it and jogged up the stairs, looking at the empty space where Alfred used to greet him. He probably didn’t count on him showing up, so he didn’t waste his time waiting by the door. Either that, or the stain he left on the family was one of the permanent kind and he was more or less welcome home now. He told himself he didn’t care, but deep down, he prayed it wasn’t the latter. 

Coming in, he immediately heard the low chatter from the foyer. He walked there, announcing his presence by the groaning of the heavy wooden doors. The conversation quieted down, and Bruce stood up. However, he paid him little attention as his eyes instantly found the second party, looking immaculate in black and white designer clothes, and the more he looked, the more his eyes narrowed.

However, you didn’t back down. You held the stare of the man who stuck out in the decor like a sore thumb, but seemed comfortable enough in his environment to show he did, in fact, belong here in his own way. 

“Why the fuck is Vitto Maroni’s wife doing in your living room?”

While Bruce looked both embarrassed and pissed at the lack of manners, you simply raised an eyebrow. “Fiancée”

“Yeah whatever” He brushed you off, now giving his entire attention to Bruce. “What the fuck?”

“We need to talk”

“Ya think?” He was unsettled, shifting his glance back and forth between Bruce and you. You crossed your arms against your chest, unimpressed by his display of whatever he was doing. 

“Come and sit” Bruce invited, but it sounded more like a disguised order. The younger man just stood there in defiance. “Jason”

He didn’t move, so Bruce sat back down with a tired sigh. This exchange seemed like it was a common occurrence rather than a sudden act of rebellion. 

“Fine, stay there” He mumbled. “Jason, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), meet my son Jason”

“Adopted” He corrected almost instantly. “And I know who she is. By the way, the whole city’s looking for her, just so you know-- Wait did you kidnap her?”

“I’m right there” You waved sarcastically, annoyed at the fact he was talking like you weren’t even in the room. “And do I look like I’m here against my will?”

He gave you a sneer. 

“Jason, stand down” Bruce warned, but it didn’t seem to have much effect on Jason. “She’s here because she just dropped an important number of explicitly incriminating documents on the whereabouts of crime families in Gotham to Gordon, putting herself in a dangerous position by doing so”

“Congratulations on doing something morally right” He gave you a cold smile. “The precinct is that way, we aren’t a security company”

“You aren’t really bright are you?” You tilted your head, ignoring Bruce’s slow, tired closing of his eyes. Jason looked insulted. “All the GCPD cops beside Gordon and maybe one or two idiots fall under the paycheck of a big family. When they trace back the leak to me, and they will, I become fair game. It would be better not to be surrounded by cops when it blows out”

“Poor little girl” He mocked. “I bet--”

“Enough!” Bruce’s voice was loud enough to bring both of your attention to him. “Jason, I’ve seen the documents, and it will be strong enough to deal a blow to the crime family they won’t easily recover from. We’re talking here bank statements, fund transfer receipts, contracts, everything to build a solid case”

Jason took a deep breath, but still sent you a quick glare. “Go on”

“My side of the family isn’t strong enough to come out of a trial with the information I provided” You explained calmly, mirroring his behaviour. “It means prison for my father, brothers, uncles, cousins, all of them, and since I leaked, nobody will want to bail them out and associate with the family of a traitor”

“What about the Maroni side?”

You held his expectant stare, knowing it was the information he wanted to hear. You weren’t sure he would like it, though, seeing how he reacted for everything else. “Well, that really depends on me”

The suspicion in his eyes returned before you could blink. “How so?”

“The evidence will definitely not be sufficient to even convict them, they will worm out of this without much of a hassle...” You paused, sending a quick glance at Bruce. “... But if I testify, it might just be enough to bridge the evidence I got to the Maroni, or a part of the family anyway”

“Okay…” He trailed off. “Then just do that? What’s stopping you?”

“Well first off, the trial will take time to set” You began, and he still looked at you like he didn’t see the problem. You sighed. “I need to stay alive to testify. Fair game, remember? If they get me first it’s over”

“What do you even want us to do about this?”

You slid your glance again to Bruce, expectantly this time. Jason looked in between you two, and his face slowly fell at the realization of what was happening, and of why he was really there. 

“No”

“Hear me out” Bruce entered negotiating mode like it was a second nature to him. You observed the exchange closely and with interest. “We can’t afford to let this opportunity go. This is big, Jason”

“Yeah, I know” His tone was anything but understanding. “But it doesn’t change the fact we’re not a fucking security company”

“You think the idea of the back-from-the-dead Wayne son keeping me alive brings me joy?” You argued. Bruce had told you a priori that his son had experience in security type of jobs, but you were beginning to doubt the extent of his professionalism. 

“I wouldn’t expect it to” Here came the sarcastic comment once again. “Why can’t you ask another one of your soldiers?”

Bruce flinched ever so slightly, in an almost impossible way to notice. But you did. “For personal reasons you already know”

“And you thought my reasons were different rules?” He challenged.

“You’re the one who is the most familiar with patterns and comportment of criminal families” Bruce explained. “You don’t have to familiarize yourself with systems, m.o., anything, which leaves way less space for mistakes others would make”

Jason remained silent.

“Please”

The both of them kept staring at each other in a silent conversation. The silence was uncomfortable, so you rolled your eyes and grabbed your hand bag, pulling out a wad of cash. You slammed it on the coffee table and pushed it towards Jason, effectively grabbing his attention. 

“That’s five thousand dollars upfront, which you get to have now” You said with a sigh. “There’s two more like these once I make it through the trial”

“So now you’re trying to buy me?” He asked, glaring at the money like it was the plague. “Dirty money is dirty money, so what is stopping me from just taking it out of your stupid Gucci handbag and call it a day?”

You had to smile, although it was far from sincere and friendly. “You think I’d keep it all here on me? I’m not an amateur”

“Oh boy” Bruce intervened again. “Let’s not get carried away, please. There is an important matter at hands”

“Fine” He finally conceded. “But you owe me a big one, Bruce. I’ll make it count”

“I didn’t expect any less” He replied in a neutral tone, but there was relief in his posture.

“What’s the game plan here?” Jason crossed his arms against his chest. “So the princess here doesn’t die on me and puts it on my fault”

“I am very sorry for his behaviour” Bruce apologized to you. 

“No worries, I’m used to dealing with that kind of attitude” You smiled at him, before returning your hardened glance to Jason. He made a face at you, subtly enough not to warrant another intervention.

“I think the best plan would be to move constantly, never staying in one place more than two or three days at the time” Bruce resumed. “Ideally, put as much distance from Gotham as you can, without either straying too far so you can come back quick if the trial is rushed”

“Which will be most likely the case” You pitched in. “They’ll know I’ll be hiding, and they’ll try to make it as hard as possible for me to come back on time. That is still if a bullet doesn’t find me first”

“So we move you frequently enough they won’t have the time to locate you” He hummed. “Alright. Then let’s go, before I change my mind”

“Reassuring” You breathed out, standing up with your handbag. However he was still standing in the way, unmoving. “Aren’t we going?”

“Not dressed like that, no”

“What’s wrong with this?” You frowned.

He gave you a smirk. “Your little Versace outfit is an attention magnet” He pointed at your clothes. “Add this to your missing person profile, they’ll get you in less than 24 hours whether or not I’m involved. You’ll have to dress like a commoner, princess”

This is ridiculous, you thought. You glanced at Bruce for support, but he refused to meet your eyes, tilting his head from side to side. If anyone should back you up, it was Mister Armani Suit currently sitting to your right.

“He has a point” He admitted, and your jaw slightly dropped. “You’ll have to lay low”

“This-- This is tailored!” It was truly your last argument, and it made Jason snort. 

“I don’t care” He shrugged. “I’m sure Grayson still has some things around and won’t mind if you help yourself”

You grimaced, but still followed Jason around the hallways of the manor. His steps were suspiciously light, letting you know he enjoyed this way too much. You should have seen it coming by reacting the way you did to the idea of a considerable downgrade of clothes. You opened the door way too wide and he barged in like he owned the place.

This would be a long, long not-so-vacation.

He finally reached a room, which had been left mostly empty except for furniture. You could see nobody had been there in a while by the lack of personal items beside a few pictures and little items. He rummaged through drawers, pulling out t-shirts and pants.

“You’re lucky Grayson liked tight clothing” He shouted above his shoulder, knowing you were in the threshold waiting for your self inflicted doom. “This might just fit”

He threw you the pile of clothing, half of which fell onto the ground. Yet, you could clearly see that it was only t-shirts, jeans and sweatpants. You gulped as he gestured to the bathroom door, showing you the way. You reluctantly went in and carefully took off your clothes, still planning on taking them with you just in case. 

“Oh my god” You muttered as you slipped the rough cotton over your head. The poor quality of the material was screaming against your skin. It was large enough to swallow your frame, but you managed to tweak it in a knot like you had seen so many fashion bloggers do before. You never thought you’d be the one who’d have to do it, though Then came the pants, whose rather skinny cut you were thankful for. It was still somewhat large, but it could have been worse. The waist was still a problem, however. But you grabbed a belt from your bag and called it an outfit--a sorry excuse of an outfit but an outfit nevertheless. 

You came back in the bedroom, only to be met with a raised eyebrow. You halted your step, unsure of what to do under his close scrutinization. You felt way less powerful and invulnerable now that your twelve thousand dollars shell was gone, and to make it worse, his expression revealed nothing. He took a good minute before he spoke.

“The belt” He said, but you knew what it meant. He wanted you to get rid of your last lifeline.

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll lie and say it’s a fake” You compromised, but he still didn’t look convinced. “Look at how I’m dressed, they won’t even consider it’s a real”

“Hmm, alright” He nodded slowly. “I’ll let it slide this time”

You didn’t add anything else as you went to the pile of clothes you had left on the floor, and began packing them in your handbag. You thought it was a crime to put a five dollars shirt in a 5k bag, but you didn’t have much of a choice. 

“How much stuff do you have in there?” He called from behind you. “That thing is huge”

“I have enough” You replied cryptically, to which he muttered something no doubt sarcastic under his breath. You had a rotation of underwear, two full outfits and your essentials, and now you added three t-shirts, a pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants. It was getting pretty full. “It’s very practical”

“Sure” He drawled out. “Will this be a fake too?”

“Gotta commit to the counterfeit gimmick, right?” You said as you turned around. He shrugged. “Are we good to go now?”

“Sure thing, princess”

You bit your lips not to yell at him anymore and followed him to his car. You put your bag on the backseat, which was surprisingly clean, and got it on the passenger seat. Jason got behind the wheel and started to drive down the driveway, until he pulled over on the side of the road. Before you could ask what was going on, he pulled a gun from nowhere and pressed the barrel under your jaw. 

“I don’t know what’s your game here, but for your sake I better hope that's exactly what you sold back there” He spoke in a slow, menacing tone. You weren’t moving, but you held the stare down contest anyway. “If this is a scheme to hurt my family, or screw Gotham over even more, I swear the Maronis won’t be the ones you’ll need to hide from”

“You’re not the first man to put a gun to my head and threaten me, so don’t think you can intimidate me that way” You spat back, teeth clenched and venom in your voice. Whatever he expected from your answer, it wasn’t that. “If I tried to play you, there would be a hundred better ways to do so, so lower the fucking gun”

Slowly, the cold metal left your skin, followed by the distinct click of the safety. You controlled the sigh of relief that silently left you, so he wouldn’t know how much your breath was truly trembling on the inside. It’s not because you had been in that situation before that it was any less scary.

Without so much as another glance in your direction, he pressed down the gas pedal and sped away from the manor.

Day 2

You had been on the road for more than thirty hours when Jason finally pulled into the driveway of a remote cabin, far from any passing road.

You were tired and sore despite the little sleep you had gotten, making you wonder how he hadn’t crashed the car yet. Beside rare gas and bathroom breaks--usually done at the same time--he hadn’t stopped at all. However, it showed in the quiet sigh that he was relieved to finally not need to channel his attention on the road. He got out of the car, not bothering to talk at all to you. It had been like that for the entire way, silent except for the one or two “are you hungry” grunts at gas breaks. The only sound in the car had otherwise been the steady rotation of the CDs laying around.

You got out of the car at your turn and stretched. It felt good on your muscles after all that time sitting, and you didn’t want to think about how this would be your routine for an undetermined time. However, you were kind of glad you did not have on your usual clothes for this one, and rather something large and breathing. You would never admit it out loud, however. 

You grabbed your bag from the backseat and followed Jason inside. The cabin was small, consisting of a kitchen area, a cluttered desk, a bookshelf, a bed and a half bathroom. 

“Where are we?” You asked as he dropped the keys on the desk. You just hoped he hadn’t changed his mind and took you here to murder you, or something.

“Safe house” He replied. “I have maps here. I’ll draw a more tactical trajectory before we start moving for real”

“Okay…”

“I’d say you can take the couch, but…” He trailed off, looking smug as he threw himself on the bed, gesturing at the empty, couchless space and shrugging in mock apology. “Sleep on the floor for all I care”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor” You rebutted, eyebrows furrowed. Who did he think he was?

“Outside then?” His eyes widened slightly in appreciation. “Even better, good idea”

You stood there glaring at him, sprawled out with his hands behind his head. I’ll make that smirk drop from your stupid face, you thought as an idea to piss him off ever more crossed your mind. You dropped your bag on the floor, and with a confident pace, went straight for the bed. Before he could protest or sit up, you crawled in the empty spot at his right.

“Hey what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He threw his hands up in indignation, like you had just tried to stab him. 

“Nobody treats me like a dog” You hissed. “Get used to it”

“You’re not sleeping in my bed” He argued, but he was still visibly stunned by your bold action.

“Why not?” You said as you turned to face him.

“I-- It’s MY bed!” He stumbled on his childish reply. “MY rules!”

“What are you gonna do, threaten to shoot me again?” 

His flinch was so subtle you almost missed it. But just like Bruce before, you still caught it. 

“Fine” He finally gave in, jaw clenched. “But if you take too much space, I’m pushing you off”

“It’s a queen size, you big baby. You’ll be fine” You snapped as you turned again, this time to show him your back.

You closed your eyes in the hope of catching up on your well needed sleep. It had been a wild 48 hours for you, and you had been left exhausted like you had never been. Your eyelids were heavy and the bed seemed more comfortable now than it probably was, lulling you into the arms of morpheus. But Jason had other ideas, as you could both hear and feel him moving around and changing his position every five seconds or so. You were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose, especially when you felt his arm hit the back of your head. Grinding your teeth together, you forced yourself to take deep breaths.

After fifteen minutes of him not being able to stand still, you finally had enough. You had to do something that would stun him again long enough for you to fall asleep and tune out his antics. So you sat up without a word and took off your belt, then pushed your jeans off. He had stopped moving, but it wasn’t enough. You straight up pulled off your shirt and tossed it on the floor, leaving you in your bra and underwear. You caught a glimpse of his agape expression when you laid back again on the bed and brought the covers to your shoulders, and took the opportunity to fall asleep without a hassle. 

---

The next time you opened your eyes, daylight was engulfing the cabin. You stirred awake with a groan, not knowing how many hours you had slept. But you felt well rested, so it was all that mattered really. 

“Look who’s finally awake”

You lifted your head from the bed, still only half aware of what was going on. Jason wasn’t in the bed anymore, instead he was sitting at the desk and working on it. His back was to you, and by the looks of it, he had no intention to turn around either. 

“Whutaymist?”

His head slowly lifted. “What?”

“I said” You repeated, clearer this time. You admitted your mumbling might have been hard to understand. “What time is it?”

“Twenty past two” He answered. “Congratulations, you slept a whole fourteen hours. You win nothing”

“Well good morning to you too” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I’m not your fucking maid” His tone was flat and stern. Still, he gestured to the kitchen counter. Your eyes followed his hand to see a single, unopened can of soup.

“Canned soup? Seriously?” 

“Hey, be my guest not to eat it” He said with his usual sarcasm. “If you die of starvation, that’s one less problem for me”

“You would like that too much, wouldn’t you” You bit back, sitting up and throwing your legs to the side. You didn’t miss how his shoulder tensed the second you pushed the covers off, reminding you of your lack of clothing. You didn’t care however, as you just walked across the cabin to get to your bag. You grabbed a fresh pair of underwears, a t-shirt and the pair of sweatpants, which you decided you’d wear strictly on days you weren’t moving around. 

You weren’t emotionally ready to be seen in public with sweatpants.

You decided to take a quick shower, with cold water as you brutally discovered seconds later. You could just see the satisfied grin on Jason’s lips as you squealed in surprise at the sudden extreme temperature. Still, you went through with it just to prove you could. You hurried to dry yourself and your hair with a towel in a cupboard, then dressed up again with the same tricks you had used on your last makeshift outfit. Except this time, the belt was the drawn strings of the pants. 

“How was the shower?” He asked smugly when you came out, still working over his desk with his back to you. “Hope it wasn’t too cold”

“It was just perfect, actually” You answered just as smugly, and that was enough to make him turn his head toward you. “Cold water is amazing for the hair and skin”

It looked like he was waiting for you to crack and admit it was in fact too cold, but you only gave him a serene smile. He huffed and went back to whatever he was doing. You walked to the kitchen and began searching for a pot for the soup, certainly that would come handy, then grabbed a spoon and a bowl to put beside the stove. You however paused at the can itself, not sure where to go from now. You tried prying the top of the can open, to undo the label and see if there was something under to open it, then looked around for anything that could help you.

“You don’t know how to open a can, do you?” 

You jumped at the sound of Jason’s, but also from it being way closer than the desk. You spun around to see him leaning on a cupboard, a mocking expression on his face.

“Well, I’ve never done this before” You defended, folding your arms against yourself. He pushed himself from the cupboard and went straight to the second drawer on your left, pulling out a strange device and handing it to you. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“Open the can” 

“It looks like it’s meant for torture”

“It really isn’t”

You rolled your eyes and began to figure this all out. You tried it one way, then the other, accidentally pinched your finger on the handles and dropped the can about four times on the counter. You stopped for a moment, sighing in defeat. Still, you observed the mechanism closer, then back at the can, then back to the can opener. Surely, the little dented wheels had to go on the edge of the can…

Next time you tried it, it worked. 

You were so taken by the fact that you had figured out how to open a can almost by yourself that you hadn’t noticed Jason coming into your space. When you did notice it though, you took a step back. You still couldn’t read his expression, but if there was one thing you were sure of, it wasn’t a positive kind of invasion of your bubble. You picked warning signals from him and it made you recoil on yourself. He looked a whole other kind of dangerous like that, and it kind of reminded you of the people you were used to having around you. Not quite, but close.

“Did you use my shampoo?”

You squared up your shoulder, not about to let him try and intimidate you once again. “Yes”

He remained there for a moment, like he was trying to either stare into your soul, scare you off or hold back a fart. It could be either, you weren’t actually sure. 

“I don’t like when people take my stuff,” He said. “Especially without asking me first”

“Fine” You huffed. “Do I have the permission from His Majesty the King not to smell like a dumpster?”

He narrowed his eyes, but backed off. “Eat your goddamn soup” He turned around and walked back to his desk. “And don’t burn the cabin doing so!”

Day 5

“I don’t understand this store”

After leaving the cabin, Jason agreed to make a quick stop at Target to grab snack supplies and more fitting clothes for you. First of all because he wanted to avoid a redo of the underwear in bed incident, and also because he realized moving around with unfitting men’s clothes might bring another type of unwanted attention. His goal was for you to look normal, and while it did the trick better than designer clothes by a landslide, it still looked slightly off. 

“What don’t you understand?” He asked back on a condescending tone. “It’s a store”

“You buy clothes, groceries and hygiene supplies at the same place?” You frowned, looking down at the two pairs of jeans and few monochrome shirts you had picked from the racks. There was also a pajama set there with shampoo and shower gel, plus a pair of new running shoes with ankle socks, and a travel bag to put everything you had. Your Gucci bag was getting too full for all of that.  “Why?”

“Welcome to the normal world, princess” He replied, disinterested. “People don’t have the time or money to go to specialized store for everything”

“Hmm” You hummed, watching him throw packs of cashews and beef jerky in the cart. He picked some more things, including water bottles and energy drinks, anything that seemed appealing to him and never asking you for your opinion. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to at this point, and besides, none of these snacks seemed appealing to you.

After a while of Jason lazily pushing the cart around, you noticed it was the third time you went past the potato chips row. He didn’t seem bothered, but you could see a small tension in his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” You asked, thinking it was his way to waste your time. 

“We’re being followed” He whispered back, grabbing your shoulder before you could turn around and take a peek. “Don’t look!”

“Sorry jeez” You breathed, shaking off your shoulder from his grip.

“About fifteen feet behind us” He explained. “If that guy wanted honey mustard pretzel bites, he would have taken them the first two times he checked them”

From the corner of your eyes, you spotted the man in question. He was wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses inside, and was very obviously pretending to read the back of the bag. Jason nodded at you to keep walking, and the man followed from his careful distance. 

“Would you relax for two minute?” He hissed at you. “If you look like you have a broomstick shoved up your ass, he’ll know we spotted him”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” You replied in the same tone. “I might die in the next minutes in a fucking Target, even irony is mocking me now”

“You won’t die” His eyes were casted forward, like he’d strangle you if he looked at you. “Just--Just walk to the registers like a human being, I’ll deal with him once we’re outside”

You didn’t answer that, only followed him to the self checkout registers. At least you could hide behind his huge frame as he scanned the items one by one, calm and collected like nothing was happening. The sketchy man was on the farthest register from you, checking out his bag of pretzels. Jason finally paid and took the bag, shoving it in your hands. For once, you didn’t complain about his lack of manners and walked a brisk pace out of the store. You were parked in a deserted end of the lot, yet, the man did not change his course. He was set on you. 

You had reached the car when you noticed Jason was, in fact, gone. He was not beside you anymore, leaving you completely open. Fear gripped your heart as the footsteps behind you grew louder and stopped too close to comfort. You shut your eyes tight for a moment, knowing this would be the end for you. You heard the safety of a gun click, and you gulped.

“Vitto Maroni sends his regards”

Then the gun fired, the distinct sound of a muffled shot by a silencer going off. However, you didn’t feel pain, or fall on the ground. Instead, you heard a thud behind you and your eyes popped open. You turned around to see Jason leaning over the unmoving form of the man sent to kill you.

“viTto mArOni sEnDs hiS rEgArDs” He mocked, kicking the guy. “Dumbass. Can’t even watch his five”

“Where did you go?!” You yelled, as it was the only thing you could say in the fall of your anxious state. 

He raised his gun and gave you an incredulous stare. “Uh, you’re welcome?”

“You left me alone!”

“Come on, get in the car, we need to get out of there” He sighed, gesturing to the door. You didn’t argue, but you knew you weren’t done. You climbed in the passenger seat and waited until he was far enough from the store.

“So I am the bait now?” Your shouting fest resumed. “What if he had fired before you did?”

“First of all, you became the bait yourself when you decided to air your family’s dirty laundry” He pointed out, not fazed at all by your outburst. “Second, he was a dumbass. He didn’t even take precaution when I disappeared on him, and he didn’t see me round the car and come up behind. And third, nobody shoots before me”

“That’s a bold risk to take” You raised your eyebrows in challenge. He eyed you up and down and shrugged.

“Meh, I’m fine with it”

“I could have died!”

“But did you?” 

“No”

“Then case closed” He smiled smugly. “You let me worry about your security detail, and you shut your mouth and appreciate it, ‘kay?”

You huffed and crossed your arms against your chest in a defensive position, sinking into your seat further. Your eyes were dead set on the passing trees outside, mad you almost died, but mostly, mad you thought Jason had abandoned you to die.

[pufflyhallows]

Picks & Pens (II)

Hello! I’m back with another chapter for this one. This AU is so cool for me, I hope you guys like it.

Chapter Two: The Day I Died

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,4k

a/n: I still don’t know shit about press lol

Mrs. Lennox hadn’t e-mailed you in three days. Didn’t seem much time for the outside eye, but you knew it was strange. You hoped there was nothing wrong with the interview, as you had already started working on your questions and also had plans for the extra cash coming in soon. There was a local artist whose paintings had a quite fun twist on pop culture and you liked to support him. Your living room could use some more color too.

Just when you finally had all your focus directed at the writing of your questions, Jessie popped up behind your laptop with a questioning look.

“What?” you asked impatiently, slightly irritated that you had been interrupted.

“You’re too quiet today.”

“I’m working?”

“Must be something really important to make you miss Kevin’s afternoon rage. What is it?”

“Oh, I missed it? What was it this time? The vending machine ran out of peanuts?”

“Nope. The construction site is ‘making too much noise’.”

“He means the construction site ten floors below us?”

“Yeah. You can’t even hear it!” Jessie shook her head. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What are you working on?”

“An interview,” you closed your laptop.

“Ooh… is it top secret?” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Is it an A-List celebrity? Oh my God, it’s Tom Hardy, isn’t it?”

“What? No,” you chuckled. “I’ll tell you when I get the confirmation. It’s a bit uncertain for now.”

“But can you give me a hint? Like… male or female? Actor or singer? Politician, maybe? A TV host?! Give me something, Y/N!”

“Male,” you said. “And that’s all I’m giving you.”

“Male… Hm…” she squeezed her eyes. “Are you sure it’s not Tom Hardy? You know I would definitely pretend to be your assistant and sneak in that interview, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that. But no, Jessie, it is not Tom Hardy.”

“What a bummer. Well, good luck on the confirmation. I need to go back to that puppy coat article.”

“Puppy coat?”

“Yeah, you know… Coats for puppies. It’s quite trendy now in the winter. People still need to take their dogs out for walkies, after all.”

“Please tell me you’re putting pictures on that article.”

“You bet I am,” she smiled. “Comes out tomorrow, probably. Check the website at noon.”

“I definitely will.”

When Jessie walked away, you heard the infamous ding from your computer, announcing a new e-mail. You quickly opened the device again and clicked on the e-mail icon. It was from Brenda.

Mrs. Lennox wants to grab coffee downstairs with you at 4 p.m.

Perfect. Probably an update on the scheduling.

You replied confirming your attendance to the casual meeting and looked at your watch. It was still 3:35 p.m.

Your train of thought for the interview had been lost already, thanks to Jessie and her curiosity, so you didn’t get back to it right away. Instead, you decided to stretch your legs and walk over to Ben’s desk. He managed to make those twenty five minutes pass quite fast, getting a few laughs out of you in the process. When it was time, you got into the elevator and descended a couple of floors to the coffee shop.

You knew from experience that Sophia Lennox always arrived five minutes after the time she set. She hated waiting for people, but she did not want to make people wait for her for too long. Words you heard from Sophia herself. For that reason, you took the liberty to sit at the most discrete table and wait for her inside. As expected, she appeared after five short minutes and sat in front of you.

“Have you ordered anything yet?” she asked, signaling to the waitress that usually served her table.

You shook your head just as the waitress approached the table.

“Hello, dear. One latte for me and…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you.

“A mocha for me,” you smiled at Sam, the waitress.

“Right away,” she smiled back, walking away.

“I could start this conversation with ‘you’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here’, but I know you’re smart enough not to wonder. You know this is about the interview,” Mrs. Lennox started. “And let me get this out of the way and say that it’s very much confirmed. You will be interviewing him. The only issue we’re having is his schedule. He’s a very busy man, apparently. Much busier than I thought.”

You kept on listening, not finding that information surprising.

“It was his birthday a couple of weeks ago and he had taken a break from his usual schedule to celebrate. Now that he’s back, there are some things he needs to take care of before even thinking about interviews. At least, that’s what his manager told me.”

“So no prediction?”

“Actually, yes. There is a prediction, but I don’t think you’re going to like it. He will probably be available between the 15th and the 21st of December. Though it’s no guarantee.”

“Oh! That’s like three weeks from now,” you reflected for a few seconds. “And then it will be quite a hurry to write the article.”

“I know… I felt really tempted to pull the ex-girlfriend card, but you’ve asked me not to and I didn’t.”

“What, you think they would make time for it if they knew?”

“I mean, probably. It’s good press for him too,” you looked down after hearing her words. Of course it’s about press. “But all they know is that it’s for SL Magazine.”

Before you could reply, Sam came back with your orders, placing them on the table.

“Thank you.”

As she walked away, you grabbed your cup of mocha and took a small sip.

“So…” Mrs. Lennox cleared her throat. “Can you do it?”

You knew that was a rhetorical question. There was no way you could backpedal now.

“Yes. But I’d really appreciate it if you managed to get me the 15th or 16th. The sooner, the better.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” your boss sighed, raising her cup at you before taking a sip. “I will try to get the-”

The conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Lennox’s cellphone ringing inside her purse. She reached for it and looked slightly surprised with the name on the screen. “It’s her.”

“Who?” you frowned.

“The manager,” she slid her finger across the screen and put the phone on her ear. “Hello?”

You grabbed your cup with both hands and took a long sip as you watched the conversation.

“I’m great! How about you? Oh, that’s lovely. I believe it was Tuesday, yes. Not at all! I completely understand. Well… um…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you hesitantly before carrying on. “Yes, that’s her.”

The nervousness and apprehension started kicking in. You found yourself almost squeezing the cup between your hands, waiting for your boss to end that call and tell you what was going on.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she let out a business laugh. “Oh, that will get a little rushed, don’t you think? No, no. I appreciate it. Thank you very much, Miss Dawson. Of course. Bye bye.”

Mrs. Lennox placed her phone on the table and took a deep breath. She looked at you and bit her lower lip thoughtfully.

“What happened?” you asked. “It wasn’t canceled, was it?”

“No! Don’t even say something like that,” she shook her head and waved her hand at you. “Well, his manager is quite good. She looked into SL and found out you work for us, so she wanted to know if, by any chance, you would be the one interviewing him. I wasn’t going to lie, of course, and said yes.”

“Oh...”

“Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it is actually a good thing, Y/N. She said she’ll squeeze us in for next week!”

“Next week?!”

“Isn’t it great? I knew they would make time for you.”

Of course, I’m ‘good press’.

“You have started on the material, right?” Mrs. Lennox asked.

“I have, actually. But I’m still doing research.”

“Okay. You’ll have to hurry a little bit. Miss Dawson said next Wednesday is the perfect day, which means you only have about four days to finish it. And keep in mind that I want to see it before you go, so we should have a little spare time in case you need to make edits,” she stopped to take another sip and you accepted that your weekend was going to be wasted on Sirius Black research. “Do you know her, by the way? The manager.”

“No. He had a different one back then,” you sounded more bitter than you intended, and Mrs. Lennox eyed you for a couple of seconds.

“I won’t ask.”

“Thanks.”

“Well… let’s get to work!”

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

With a glass of red wine on your nightstand and random music videos from YouTube playing on the TV, you typed question after question on your laptop, sitting on your queen sized bed on a Saturday night. It was going to be a big article. Two full pages with three columns of text each, according to Mrs. Lennox. She wanted the narrated type, with you describing even his motioning hands. It was going to be a handful, but you were prepared. You had done it before. This wouldn’t be any different from the Saoirse Ronan one.

As you went through his discography, you listened to all the songs you hadn’t listened before, which meant most of them. After the breakup, you had stopped listening to his music altogether. You only knew the ones that became hits and played in the radio, gas stations, stores, every damn where. It was quite annoying, actually.

You got to the last song of his latest album, released eight months ago: Love Falls. There was no music video, so you paused the TV and clicked on the song on your laptop’s Spotify to listen to it through your headphones.

The lyrics immediately caught your attention.

Have you cried yourself to sleep?

Have you felt this incomplete?

Have you ever cut yourself so deep to see if you still bleed?

Oh, another angsty song. Great.

Do you ever feel wanted?

Do you ever feel needed?

Do you ever feel happy?

Or are you just like me?

What the fuck is he talking about? He’s the artist of the decade! Of course he’s wanted. If there was something that pissed you off about the music industry was when artists tried to be ‘relatable’ in their songs, even if it meant portraying an image that wasn’t necessarily true.

I’m hanging by a thread, a rope, the noose around my neck

I choke, ‘cause every time I’m falling love falls out of me

Right. What about all the girls he’d been with? Every month there were pictures of him partying with someone different and- Well, actually, that was it. Partying. In your research you realized he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since… you.

I'm hardened like a rock, a stone, the brick inside my chest

Alone, 'cause every time I'm falling love falls out of me

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t trying to be relatable. Maybe he wasn’t projecting a fake image. Maybe he did feel like that.

I'll never forget the day I died

Love memories frozen and denied

Flower of my heart withered and dried

You took a very long sip of your wine and wiped your lips with your sweater’s sleeve.

Love falls out of me

And that was it. The song ended. You had gone through his entire discography, listened to every song and watched every music video. Weirdly, apart from the ones that were released when you were still together, that was the first song that made you feel something. The first one you actually enjoyed. It was a really good song, you had to admit. It was raw and vulnerable, something you hadn’t seen in one of his songs since the first two albums.

You played it again.

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

“Interesting.”

Mrs. Lennox was reading your material for the interview, with a pen between two fingers, ready to cross out or add a sentence.

You were sitting on the comfy, fluffy chair in front of her table, nervously bouncing your leg as you squeezed your hands together. You hoped she liked what you had prepared because you really wanted to use it.

“Oh, I didn’t know this.” She kept reading, clearly interested. The fact that she hadn’t done any edits yet gave you hope.

A few more minutes went by, no edits, and suddenly she looked up at you. Slowly, she put the sheets of paper down and took off her red cat-eye glasses.

“I’m impressed, Y/N. You really went above and beyond on this. I’m almost certain this is the very first time I didn’t have to edit the material for an interview before approving it.”

“Does that mean…?”

“It’s approved. You can use it. As a matter of fact, you have to use it. It’s perfect!” Mrs. Lennox chuckled. “You go straight to the point and ask exactly what people want to know. Not to mention the small details you’ve picked up on! Well done. This article is going to be amazing.”

You sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Mrs. Lennox. I sure hope so.”

She smiled at you. “And I’m curious to find out the answers.”

“Honestly? Me too.”

“I know,” she nodded, still smiling. “Good thing we won’t have to wait for too long. Tomorrow is the day!”

Mrs. Lennox stood up and handed you back the papers. “You know the deal or should I recap?”

“Please, recap.”

“It’s an intimate interview, as you know. This means that the only people in the room are going to be you and him. All he has tomorrow, besides this interview, is a photoshoot for a radio station or something. It’s supposed to take place in the morning, but it’s likely that it will be extended into the afternoon. And that’s why his manager scheduled our interview for 6 p.m. A little later than our usual, I know, but she’s squeezing us in. It’s not his usual either.”

“Place?”

“His personal studio. He has something to do there after the interview, apparently. Or even during the interview, doesn’t really matter. It’ll still be just the two of you,” she paused. “You need the address?”

“No, I got it.”

“Great! I think that’s about everything.”

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, glancing at the material in your hands. “I should get back to work, then.”

“Actually, Y/N, why don’t you go home? I have nothing for you here.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You don’t have to come tomorrow either, use the day to prepare for the interview. Study the material and rock on! Oh, and don’t forget to call me before you get to the studio. I want to give you my pep talk,” she smiled.

“Sure,” you smiled back, standing up. “See you in two days, then.”

“See you, Y/N. Good luck.”

********

Love Falls by HELLYEAH

[havenesa-sera-fina]

Hidden Marks [3: What are you Hiding?]

Summary: Wrapping his own arms around her shoulders, Namjoon pulled her in, resting his head on the crown of her head, his heart beating steadily, which Sera heard and smiled to herself. Even with his odd lengthy limbs, they fit together perfectly, "Sera, I'm falling in love with you, that I want to convince you not to go, but I trust you. I just want you to be happy, to never cry over us again. I can't promise you that if you choose to stay with us, everything will be rainbows and sunshine, but I promise you that we won't give up on you, on this relationship. We're not perfect like everyone thinks we are, we're not the perfect bunch of soulmates, we have problems as a group and individuals, secrets that we all keep, burdens that we try to carry on our own. Though we all have each other, to fall back on when things get brought, and that includes you now. We're soulmates, so if anything happens, don't be scared to tell us. 

(Poly BTS/OT7 x Reader/OC)

College Au / Soulmate Au

Disclaimer: Bts isn't my or any real life people (obviously.) Any other characters are my though. This is my story so do not republish this anywhere or I will report.

There maybe some triggers, but I will address them within the chapters.

Sources: Wattpad

Word count: 2281

Monday night I emailed my professors to let them know I wouldn't attend classes for Tuesday, and exhaustion finally caught up to me that night as I went to sleep, with several needles in my arm, an oxygen mask around my mouth, with the beeping of the monitor. I woke up like that Tuesday afternoon.

Groggily, I removed the annoying mask from my face and pushed my hair away from my face as I glared weakly at the open curtain, as the sunlight was the one to interrupt me from my sleep. The temptation to just knock down the beeping monitor next to me was strong, but I just shifted in the bed, my sore muscles tensed slightly when I shifted to my side a bit. A groan escaped my mouth, wanting to fall back to sleep, but I couldn't.

Reaching for my phone in my bedside table, I winced slightly at the dozens of missed calls and text I received, mainly from Lilia, Kimie and Baekhyun.

Feeling slightly guilty, but not knowing what to say, I sent them a mass message that said I was fine, before putting my phone on mute, so I didn't have to deal with their endless questions of where I was at.

However, I sent Baekhyun a private text:

Can you come to the hospital whenever you have time? Please don't tell anyone I'm here.

I felt like absolute garbage, but at least the burning from my marks ceased, and the headache was gone.

Soon the same nurse from last night came, with her usual bright smile, "Miss. Han, how was your sleep?"

"My whole body is sore," My voice was scratchy, as I gratefully took the water that the nurse offered, "When can I leave?"

The nurse checked my vitals and told me everything seemed to be normal and would inform the doctor before giving me an estimate of when I'll be discharged. She left me alone to my own thoughts, as I settled back into my bed, my eyes heavy, but refusing to sleep. While I may be physically better, it didn't mean I was mentally better. It didn't stop that aching feeling I felt in my chest, the loneliness and emptiness I felt.

After a bit the nurse came back with the doctor, who went over my vitals and charts again, before asking me how I was feeling and replied that I was much better.

"There's this procedure in America," The doctor suddenly spoke, as she was typing away from the computer, looking away from me, "That gets rid of the soulmate mark, and terminates the soulmate bond. It hasn't been approved in Korea, but in America, it has an 80% success rate."

I didn't reply, but I unconsciously shifted the covers to hide the marks, which I knew would be black instead of gray now, as the therapy worked it's magic to repair the bond and in the end my soul. However, there was only so much it could fix, especially when I've been doing the same treatment for nearly four years.

"I assumed you already called someone to pick you up, I'll have your paper works prepared. You can leave in about two hours."

*****

"What is going to be your excuse to Kimie and Lilia? They've been worried about you all day," Baekhyun asked, breaking the silence in his car. The radio was on low, nothing more than a buzz in the background.

Shifting my eyes to glance slightly at the pick haired guy, I turned my body farther away from him, "Just tell them I went a male strip club and I had some fun," I snorted out, not wanting to think about how to deal with my two friends. That was also the reason why we were currently heading towards Baekhyun's apartment, so I can rest more before I return to my dorms and most likely to an awaiting Kimie with a Lilia by her side.

"You're getting worst Sera," he spoke once more, this time his voice more serious causing me to stiffen up a little, "The treatments been getting less and less effective. Give or take a couple of months before those don't even work. Then what?"

"Then I head to America."

"For what?"

"To get rid of the soulmate bond, and probably go to medical school there."

*****

I was mentally and physically exhausted as I walked up the stairs. Nearly falling several times, and I just wished some unknown being would just come, sweep me off my feet and to my bed. Then I wouldn't have to face Lilia and Kimie, after facing Baekhyun.

All we did for a straight hour was scream at each other, yell, fight, and insult one another.

After my announcement of going to America and for what reason, Baekhyun exploded, calling my decision stupid. I of course argued back and tried to defend my decision. We hurled insults after insults at each other, both angry for completely different reasons, and I was the first to break. After our hour of fighting, I spent an hour crying with Baekhyun trying to comfort me, both of us apologizing, before I decided it was time to go back to my dorm.

I wished I accepted the offer to stay at his place for the night, as I pushed my key into the door and pushed it open.

Along with Kimie and Lilia, were two other people that I just wasn't mentally prepared to deal with. Even so, my heart skipped a beat when I saw them.

Sitting on one of the couches in the living room was some would say, the perfect man to exist. With his broad shoulders and slim waist, every girls dream body for their boyfriend. Well-defined facial features with slight cat-like eyes, which were a rich brown color, with a pair of plump lips. His dark black hair stood out against her perfect skin, and he really was a worldwide handsome guy.

Sitting next to him was another breathtakingly beautiful person, large brown doe eyes could make any girl swoon, especially his double eyelids that many people in Korea dreamed to have. He was still well-defined but had almost like a child aspect to him, and whenever he smiled he looked like a bunny. He was Mr. Heartthrob.

"Where the hell have you been!" It was Lilia to speak of more yell once I closed the door, "Do you know how worried we all were! And all you offered was a lame-ass, 'I'm fine, don't worry about me."

I didn't respond, didn't even think as I just stood there, blankly staring back at Lilia who looked furious.

"You didn't even come back last night and came back late today! What in the hell is going on with you Sera?"

What is going on with me?

Is there something wrong with me?

The answer is most certainly.

"I've been trying to be a supportive friend, but it's getting hard when all you do is push us all away! Did I do something wrong? I'm your fucking friend, just talk to me!"

I watched as Jin stood up, and walked behind Lilia and placed comforting hands on her shoulders to try to calm her down. It caused an immense pain within me and it took everything in me to not double over in pain.

Of course, it didn't calm Lilia down, as she only pushed Jin's hands away, and took a step closer to me.

"Do you even consider me a friend? All you ever talk to now is Baekhyun, is he your soulmate? Just tell me something, anything because I have no idea what's going on with you anymore."

There's the odd word again; soulmate. The very word I used to swoon over in middle school, to dream about finding my own. Now it's the bane of my existence.

"Let alone how mean you've been acting to my boyfriends! They've done nothing but try to befriend you, but all you do is push them away!"

Because it hurts to be around them.

"And you're moving universities and you didn't even tell me. Did you even plan on telling me?"

Without thinking, I opened up the white paper bag I was holding the whole time, and pulled out a clear orange bottle, with paper around it. The prescription my doctor gave me.

Overwhelming anger came over me, as I suddenly raised my hands and threw it harshly against the wooden floor, causing the lid to fly open. Several small white pills scattered across the floor, as the loud sound caused the room to go silence. The only thing that can be heard was my heavy breathing.

Bringing up a hand to run over my temples, to try to comfort myself, I didn't dare to look at Lilia, "I'm tired Lilia," I spoke quietly. My voice was raspy as I tugged at the collar of my shirt. It was becoming hard to breathe.

Kimie finally stood up from the couch, and with a concerned expression, she walked towards me. Instinctively I brought my left arm to my chest, and backed away, and lowered my gaze

She seemed taken aback from this, as she stopped in her track and frowned, "Sera, we were just concerned about you, ignore Lilia."

"I just..." I stuttered as my voice shook and I hated it, "I'm just tired. I'll pick up my stuff and head to Baekhyun's. Sorry for bothering you."

When I made an attempt to move around Kimie and to escape my room, Lilia roughly grabbed my left arm, stopping me. However, her stopping me wasn't the problem, it was the fact that her hands were on my marks. Without even realizing it, I began to tremble, as I tried to yank my arm out of her grasp, but she had an iron grip on it.

"You're always covering your mark, what the hell do you have to hide? Do you even see us as your friends?" I watched as her other hand reached up to my left arm, towards the ends of the bandages, with intent to take it off.

Panic overcame me, as with my free hand I roughly pushed her away, causing her to bump into Jungkook. The sight of Lilia in his arms only caused everything to be worst. Backing away, I bumped into Kimie who was yelling at Lilia.

I couldn't think straight, my mind was everywhere, and I was having a panic attack. With my breathing heavy, I wrapped my arms around myself, and closed my eyes. The feeling of Kimie's arms around me, trying to comfort me, only made the pain and anxiety worst, my left arm burning so painfully as I chocked out a sob.

"Please-" I wheezed out, unable to say anything else as I crouched down, trying to wrap myself into a ball. All I wanted to do was disappear and be alone, "It hurts," groaning out, I hissed out in pain, almost tempting to tear away at my own bandages. But that would only ruin everything, "I'm sorry."

"Sera," Kimie spoke worriedly, crouching in front of me, but I refused to look at her, "you're having a panic attack, you need to breathe slower.

It was easier said than done, as it felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest. Especially when I heard the two men in the room whispering comforting words to Lilia. There was unbearable pain, something that I haven't felt before as I forced my eyes open and met Jungkook's concerned brown eyes staring back at me.

Breaking away the eye contact, I forced a reminder that he was only concerned for as a friend. Nothing more.

I don't know how long we all stayed like that, Lilia staring at me with uncertainty written on her face, Kimie standing slightly in front of me as if protecting me from Lilia. Jin kept his hands on his girlfriend, to calm her down as Jungkook stared at me with an unreadable expression.

Swallowing hard, with shaky legs, I stood up, and pushed Kimie to the side slightly, just wanting to go to my room.

No one made a move, but their eyes were on me as I moved past them, with every intent to just disappear until I was forced to go back to class.

However, when I passed Jungkook, I don't know what force overcame him, but suddenly he raised his arm to grip my left wrist. So dangerously close to my marks.

When I snapped my head to look at him, he had a concerned expression, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but just closed it.

There was a familiar spark where our skin touched, and any other time it would make me feel much lighter, the mark to hurt just slightly less. This was different though, as my heart constricted, the mark on my left arm flaring up once more.

Without thinking, I harshly yanked my arm out of his grip, "Just leave me the fuck alone!" I all but screamed out, not caring when he flinched away from me, "You and all your stupid soulmates, just leave me the fuck alone!"

I didn't wait for a reply, as I stormed into my room, making a note to lock it behind me.

Throwing myself onto my bed, I was breathing heavy, and waited for the tears to come as I stared at the empty ceiling. It never came though, instead of overwhelming emotions, all that come was numbing and emotionless feeling. I knew exactly why I was feeling this, a dry laugh leaving my dry lips.

I basically just rejected my soulmates. 

[2281]

[firsthopemedia]

How To Improve Your Lousy Writing Skills In The Workplace FIRST HOPE MEDIA https://www.firsthope.biz If there’s one important reason why you need to write effectively in the workplace, it is this: the quality of your writing imprints a lasting impression on the reader. This reader may be your boss, a client, or a person who is ready to make a billion dollar business deal with you. Have you ever read a poorly-written document that made you lose interest right away? It was so poorly-written that you lost trust in the author and asked yourself why the author was wasting your time? How about those junk e-mails that sneak into your junk box like annoying cockroaches? You know the ones I’m referring to: the ones pitching vitamins, software, and sex aids. These e-mails are the biggest showcase of writing blunders, stricken to death with grammar mistakes, misspellings, and sloppy sentences. I doubt these e-mails pull a sale because their poor writing style immediately alienates the reader. What impression does your writing leave on your boss, clients, or co-workers? Does your writing alienate readers, cause you to lose sales or clients, or cost you job promotions? Or does your writing build streams of loyal readers, increase sales for the company, and help you earn six figures a year at your job? Whatever type of writing you do in the workplace, always know this reality: readers believe the quality of your writing reflects your skills, work ethics, and integrity as a person. If you write eloquently, clearly, and lively, the reader trusts you and you are able to build rapport quickly. If your writing is sloppy, disorganized, and riddled with errors, the reader assumes the rest of your work is flawed, your work ethics are flawed, and perhaps as a person you are flawed. Why should this reader waste his time reading the rest of your junk or even do business with you? This article provides fail-safe strategies to help refine your writing and help you to communicate with clarity, simplicity, and impact so you will never write junk again. You will learn five masterful steps to guide you in planning, writing, and refining an article; and you will learn how to avoid common writing mistakes. AIM! FIRE! FIRE! To become a superb writer, your first task is to establish your aim. Yiddish novelist, dramatist and essayist, Sholem Asch, once said, “Writing comes more easily if you have something to say.” What message do you want to convey with your writing? To establish your aim, ask yourself: 1) “Why am I writing this document?” 2) “What do I want to communicate?” 3) “Do I want to inform, educate, report, persuade, challenge, or entertain?” Developing your aim will help you to adopt the best writing style for your reader. For example, an educational document will likely be more formal than one written for entertaining. CONNECT WITH YOUR READERS To write effectively, you need to connect strongly with your readers. Ask yourself: 1) “For whom am I writing this? Will I be writing for colleagues, my supervisor, my team of employees, or our clients?” 2) “How much information do my readers need?” 3) “How familiar are my readers with the topic?” 4) “How much time do my readers have? Would my readers prefer a short, succinct presentation of facts and statistics, or more narration and exposition?” Knowing your audience will allow you to write content in a way that appeals to your readers. SHAPE YOUR DOCUMENT You know your aim. You know the people who will likely read your document. Now plan your document. What information will it contain? What information will most likely grab the reader and hold their interests? What points do you need to get across? Start with a rough outline of ideas. Then go through the outline and add more information and more detail. An outline will create the structure for your document. Soon enough your writing will come more easily, quickly, and with greater clarity. WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW BEST At this stage, read over your outline and write the first draft. Establish the main idea of the document and support your argument throughout. If a blank white page glares back at you like headlights, just start writing on whatever topic you know best. According to American novelist Jack London, “You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” Don’t worry about the sequence if the ideas come to you out of order. You can cut and paste later. WORDY WEIGHT LOSS If you have time, step away from the document. Come back to it later with a fresh mind. Now add material where needed. Trim away unnecessary sections. Refine the text to communicate what you want to say. Remember: less is more. Try not to repeat ideas. Repetition, unless necessary, is tiresome for the reader. Keep the piece moving along. Use a lively pace. Progress through your points efficiently. The following sections address some of the most common writing problems. Use these tips to write more clearly, effectively, and lively. I.) PUNCTUATION a) Apostrophes Do not use an apostrophe in the possessive form of “it.” Incorrect: Our department submitted it’s reports for 2005 last week. Correct: Our department submitted its reports for 2005 last week. Do not use apostrophes in the possessive forms “his,” “hers,” and “ours.” Incorrect: The window office is her’s. Correct: The window office is hers. Do not use apostrophes in plural nouns. Incorrect: How many new computer’s are we getting? Correct: How many new computers are we getting? b) Commas Do not connect two complete sentences with a comma. Incorrect: The meeting was cancelled, I finished my work early. Correct: The meeting was cancelled, so I finished my work early. Correct: Since the meeting was cancelled, I finished my work early. II.) MECHANICS a) Split Infinitives Do not insert words between “to” and the infinitive form of a verb. Incorrect: I was told we needed to slightly tighten the deadline. Correct: I was told we needed to tighten the deadline slightly. III.) SPELLING a) “A lot” is always two words. Incorrect: I have alot of work to do. Correct: I have a lot of work to do. b) “To” is a function word often used before the infinitive form of a verb (to go). c) “Too” is an adverb that means “excessively” (too difficult). d) “Two” denotes the number 2. Incorrect: This file cabinet is to heavy for me to move. Correct: This file cabinet is too heavy for me to move. e) “There” is an adverb indicating a place (over there). f) “Their” is a possessive word that shows ownership (their computers). g) “They’re” is the contraction form of “they are.” Incorrect: There results for this quarter were excellent. Correct: Their results for this quarter were excellent. Incorrect: Their working very hard today. Correct: They’re working very hard today. IV.) STYLE a) Sentence Variety To write more lively, vary sentence structure. Use alternate ways of beginning, and combine short sentences to create different sentence lengths. Before: I organized the files for all the new accounts this week. Then I created a more efficient labeling system. I color-coded everything. I made sure all paper files had been documented electronically. I put these files in the empty file cabinet. After: This week I organized the files for the new accounts and created a more efficient color-coded labeling system. After I documented all paper files electronically, I put these files in the empty file cabinet. V.) ACTIVE VOICE vs. PASSIVE VOICE The English language has two "voices": active voice (the subject performs an action); and passive voice (the subject is acted upon). In business communication, all good writers write in active voice. Lazy writers write in passive voice. Writing in active voice shortens your sentences and makes your writing sound more direct and formal. Examples: PASSIVE: The recipe book is read by her. ACTIVE: She reads the recipe book. PASSIVE: The radio announcement should be listened to by everyone. ACTIVE: Everyone should listen to the radio announcement. PASSIVE: The photo is being taken by the photographer. ACTIVE: The photographer is taking the photo. If you follow these guidelines, you’ll stop yourself from writing lousy in the workplace. Your writing will be lively, clear, and concise, and you will build rapport with readers. Perhaps it’s now time to e-mail your boss a perfectly-written e-mail requesting a salary raise?

[soranihimawari]

West Coast kind of Love

 Summary: There were certain things you know off the top of your head. One, the fact that popcorn and M&Ms should not be sold separately at the local movies is a crime; two, every other Monday of the month, the neighborhood film club would host dollar monster movies (where one of your neighbors in your apartment complex would frequently attend); and three, you might have to pinch yourself when he asks you to take a photo with you as a proof of “how things are going abroad” to his friend in Argentina...

Word count: 4.685K

Taglist: @m0nstergeneration20xx 📷 (google docs proof reader), @oitoorus​, @tkags & her ⛅ (anon fam) , @oikawalovely [open still]

“Do what you love and the rest will follow”-proverb

--September XX--Thursday, 23:13 (11:23pm)

“Oh come on Yukihira,” you knocked on the closed bathroom door of your apartment.”You know I called dibs to the bathroom after we ditched those jerks at the dancehall.”

Every month you and your roommate took turns in choosing public places to go out for a night on the town. With midterms coming up for what would be the junior year of your undergrad studies, your roommate decided giving a double date a try. Unfortunately for her, those jerks were thinking of doing the deed way too early for either of your liking. You decide that spilling your peach Bellini on your friend’s outfit during the middle of the date was the perfect excuse to end the night early. More often than not, you mostly came along these dates with her as an enforcer. You two might be as different as night and day (yukihira studies medicine all hours of the day whereas your focus was the visual arts). Tonight was just one of those nights where you being there was beneficial.

“Ugh, fine,” she said opening the door revealing her freshly brushed grin. “I can’t believe you had the gall to ruin that outfit y/n.”

“Hey, whatever helps you throw it out like you did your ex then I was doing the Lord’s work for you, Yuks.” You rolled your eyes at her when she stuck out her tongue when you slithered into the ivory tiled washroom. This earned a laugh from the other member of your household.

“But because this was a bad date and I didn’t think things through this time again, that means I get to set you up on a blind date.” Her singsong voice reached your ears as you turned on the faucet to drown out her mocking tone. You paused for a brief moment while waiting for the make up remover serium to bubble up on your face before wiping it off effectively.

“With who?” you asked after you patted your skin dry post-makeup removal ritual complete. Your hair was undone from the hair elastic you pulled out of your inherited islander curls.

“I don’t know. Hmm...Maybe the guy in unit 23C? He’s awfully cute,” Yukihira mused as you leaned in her doorway. Her brows wiggled in delight when she noticed how you stared at your neighbor on move in day during your freshman move in day three years prior.

“Iwazumi? You can’t be serious,” you said. Your voice betrayed you because your eyes shined like the gods of furtune finally found their way to you.

“Do you want to or not? He’s focused, witty, determined; I have my physiology study group with him tomorrow. Why don’t you come with, best friend of mine?”

You really hated when she pulled the puppy eyes on you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to refuse (not by a long shot).

“Ask him if he prefers coffee or tea.”

A few days later, you came home from your department’s masters class with your portfolio sling over your shoulder. Your hands were covered in literal ink stains from your latest mural macro-micro project.

“Hey, Yukihira! Have you seen where I kept my lacquer thinner?” You raise your voice slightly as you kick off your shoes by the entrance hallway. It was only then you realize there were a couple of other pairs of shoes that did not belong to either of you. That’s when you remembered your friend’s warning about her study group coming over. All color drained from your face when you rounded the corner to your living room area converted into a mini lecture hall. You clear your throat to announce your presence which went unnoticed (with the exception of your roommate). Without even looking at the board, you chose to mess with the med students’ practice case.

“And I’m telling you this is a bilateral cut to the optic nerve, Josefina.”

“The microabraisons on the left thoracic cavity allowed the victim to bleed out on the table due to the elevated use of blood thinners, ” your voice quiets the pre-med students and you smile in a nonchalant manner. You have read this problem with Yukihira so many times prior at the start of the semester that you were able to recall the prognosis off the top of you head. Being friends with a pre-med major does have its redeeming qualities although you were seen mostly honing your crafts in the art department and this was just the prime time of their study week. 

“Oh! You’re back early,” Yukihira says in a warm tone. She stands at the end of the table in between you Her eyes glazed over as if to communicate that you were about to be formally introduced. You bite your tongue prior to allowing your roommate to clap her hands together as she went naming every member starting with the person on her left who was the aforementioned Josefina. When she had come full circle, her voice trailed off with a small apologetic smile.

“Aaaand this here is my roommate, y/n. To answer your question about the lacquer thinner, I put the bottle on your desk when it arrived last time,” Yukihira made sure to watch everyone’s response. She was more interested in seeing how the third member of her study group (the aforementioned neighbor in 23C) would react. His minuscule smirk was doubly noted, prompting you to fill the few seconds of silence with your own voice. After a brief trip down memory lane, spear headed by your best friend as they took a break from studying for a moment, Yukihira explained after years of being friends you learned about the medical cases for exams via osmosis. You were an unofficial member of the study group since the medical arts building was located near the visual arts department offices on campus. You chose to not let them be pushed back any further especially since their content exam was coming up later that month, so you bid them good luck.

“Don’t mind me,” your brass tone conveyed an even temper at the time. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to head to my room. You guys aren’t the only ones with an exam this week.” You raised your portfolio canister so they could see the poster sized dyed cylinder. Reams of paper filled with sketches made from ink and graphite poked through under the flourescent lights of the kitchen dining room table. The med students along with Yukihira waved and said it was lovely to meet your acquaintance.

With that you made a beeline route to your room, opened the door, and promptly shut the door. You dropped your portfolio canister next to your desk, turned up the volume of the lo-fi radio station playlist on your sound system, grabbed the nearest pillow and let out a muffled shriek to expel the remaining bits of embarrassment your friend threw you in. You were good at smaller group studies, but to be fair, given the fact that your friend was a social butterfly, you mostly seemed to rub off the “talented-artsy, yet focused,” type of woman. That night you cleaned up your outline for your stencil art piece of a fox and a hound for your take on minimalism class which had its peer critique at the end of the week.

You didn’t physically speak to Yukihira for the rest of the week. With both of you burning the midnight oil within the last few days before the exam, you noticed that the number of study group being held in your apartment had become the norm every other day (causing you focus more on a certain individual). Funny thing was he was also doing the same thing...

『from Yukihira: how many times do i have to apologize? You know I didn’t plan on having an emergency study session with iwazumi. He just showed up & wanted to chat. Besides the TA & professor chose to move up the exam date...』

『from y/n: you should of told me earlier before I came home. You know I forgive you... only if you buy me the latest ice cream along with the new Jun Ito novel. I’ll be out there in a minute till make some coffee for us.』

『from Yukihira: Mmkay & thanks. Coffee sounds good right about now anyways.』

--October XX-- Friday, 15:55 (3:55p.m.)

The weekend came through soon enough and on a Friday afternoon with no where to go, you were chilling at the comfort of your own living room. You were quick to thank the test gods for the exam being moved up once you had a proper conversation with Yukihira that morning. She mentioned she was going be out all day making sure she was able to finesse her study guide with her fellow medical study group. Since it was the end of the week, Josefina opted to have a free for all study day at the book store for those who wanted to go over last minute things according to the note yukihira left on your door that morning.

At the time of the day, you were expecting to be alone, curled up with your favorite cup of English Earl Grey Tea and a Lovecraft radio program you downloaded via the student Spotify network. Your phone vibrated and pinged with a notification from the bookstore where Yukihira placed the order for your horror novel to arrive sooner than the estimated timeframe. Because life finds it funny to pull another prank on your clown assery with your little cynical attitude, you were startled when the formal knocker was used.

“Shit!” you said when you clutched your heart as you placed your cup of tea down on the coffee table. As your put two fingers on your neck’s pulse point, you waited a few minutes for your heart rate to calm back down; you stood up and began to make your way down the hallway. Lo and behold, you were greeted by a casually dressed man who was clutching your new novel in his sunkissed hands. 

It takes your brain a few synapses to register that it was Iwazumi who has been taking a liking to coming over for extra study hours with your roommate, but if anyone asked him to reply honestly, he wanted to know more about you. The human body has more than 240 bones, yet the more frequent his visits become, the more he felt himself become accustomed to befriending you both. There were instances where you joined them at the kitchen table glancing at their open notebooks and case studies; you often made tea or coffee depending on the hour of the day. On the days you had come home from the art department, Yukihira was quick to notice how Iwazumi’s usually tense face seemed to visibly relax when you came to prepare your favorite snack (m&ms and buttered popcorn). Your friend was quick to relay a text to his phone, which caused her study partner at the table to become more flustered than he already was. 

Regardless of the various near misses over the next couple of weeks between you and Iwazumi (sometimes it was Yukihira’s fault other times, it was coincidental juxtopostional humour: it has happened twice on Iwazumi’s side when his friends back home noticed he was not at his usual place. [Yukihira called for a mini-study break] However, that didn’t stop you from asking him if he preferred sugar or honey for his tea & all hell broke loose (Hanamaki & Mattsun were cheering him on while Oikawa.exe has dropped the call).

All this back and forth for the past five weeks caused this moment to occur:

“I-Iwa-chan?” your voice went up several octaves before clearing your throat with a cough. “If you’re looking for Yukihira, she’s actually not here at the moment...” 

“To the scientist there is the joy in pursuing truth which nearly counteracts the depressing revelations of truth.”

The audio from your radio program was keeping you company. The disembodied voice coming from the main sound system you helped set up when you first moved into the building with Yukihira quoted Lovecraft as the program continued to serve in the role of filling the silence between you and Iwazumi. The gods really did that, didn’t they? your thoughts were running away with you again, chasing a reality that would be yours--or so you think. 

During that thought hurricane you conjured up, you decided to pause the train of thought for a few minutes. You released your hold on your front door knob as you pulled the door a little wider in order for you to lean against the frame of the front door. Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun (on your days off, you were typically clad in tapered mint green pants and a spare white button down blouse due to laundry day), but it was enough to see the usual semi-talkative and stoic demi-god of a neighbor wear such an embarrassed expression. You pretended to not hear the barely audible, “woah,” that escaped his mouth prior to him holding up the book to you. 

“Did the mail carrier drop it off to your box again?” you ask taking the book in your hands. “Sorry about that. You can come in if you want.” 

You were quick to notice that something caught your arm in an attempt to stop you from walking. When you chose to not try to pry yourself away from Iwazumi’s hold, he took it as a sign to bend himself to your ear and say the following in a powerfully low tone: “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t looking for her?” 

“Yes,” you say in a timid manner, yet it was paired with a curt nod. You both had the tenacity to swat away any lingering negative thoughts.

Iwazumi took this moment to turn you around to face him by the arm he held you with. His smile disappeared when he let your arm go and instead moved his hand to hold yours with his opposite hand, he pulled the door shut behind him. You were probably too proud to admit this aloud, nonetheless, you liked the way Iwazumi’s firm grip felt in your hand; his were rough and calloused as much as yours were from years of honing your independent crafts. You gave him a kind smile before your neighbor decided to take advantage of the fact that the other person in your apartment wasn’t home; you squeezed his hand slightly and he let your hand go. 

You placed the Jun Ito novel on the kitchen counter motioning for Iwazumi to meet you there. Your kettle was still warm, however you made a cheeky joke to your newly acquired friend. (Perhaps this was Yukihira’s plan, you think). You reached into the dishwasher and was about to pour him a cup of tea, yet you couldn’t help but make a small joke at his expense for holding your hand so intently. 

“For the record, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could have done so earlier,” you mention stifling a laugh, pouring the steaming water into the mug. Iwazumi mumbled something about how he liked the way your hand fit, yet you chose to throw caution to the wind and quickly planted short kiss on his cheek when you extended the cup toward him after placing the tea strainer in it. 

With one hand on yours and the other was wrapped around the ceramic mug,. Your kindness was always something Iwazumi found alluring. You might not have been in the same course of study as him or Yukinira, yet you were good finding the beauty in the mundane. A few of your pieces of work were hung around the apartment and from his line of sight, your dedication to your craft was something to be admired.With every sip he took a sip to deflect from the way his thoughts were heading into uncharted territories; OIkawa, Mattsun, and even Makki were the ones more verbose on love & conquest during the days of their you:

“You’re always over at your neighbors’ place, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teased. 

“I wonder what his reason is,” Makki muses. “Mattsun thinks it’s a girl. Typical.”

Makki also noticed one of your sophomore symposium art pieces hanging behind the place where Iwazumi was sitting at the time of their weekly video call. Your avant-garde view of  viewing the world was enough to set the sky amethyst hues. California does have it’s moments of striking beauty and somehow Iwazumi found it hard to keep to a straight face around his friends. His expression was usually hardened or bold, but today you sat across from him at the beginning of the call, reading up on the use of gold leaf detail work for your art restoration classes. Across the myriad of scattered medical books and various notes that were pertaining to another medical case were a tell that their friend was clearly not alone. You glance up at him quietly, a minute smile formed between you two; you write on a spare piece of paper the word, “friends” to which he nodded. 

“Aww, is our little ace growing soft on us?” Oikawa’s whining was something you often heard Yukihira describe after nights like these.(She usually hung out in your room as you were placing the final touches of your latest art assignment. This month was dedicated to historic downtown with a twist of horror: modern mania & the ruiner of man. Right now, you didn’t mind the shared space of the dining room while Yukihira was out on a grocery run at the time the call was initiated.)

“Shut your mouth Shittykawa,” Iwazumi barks. His dark eyes hardened like stone and that was when Makki let out a wicked grin. 

“I owe Mattsun 500 yen,” Makki chuckled. 

“Holy shit,” Oikawa’s eyes bounced between his best friends and let out a low whistle. “if this woman is capable of such an amazing feat, ask her if she has a friend [for me].”

Iwazumi ended the call right then and there. He didn’t expect his heart to be beating so irratically when you walked room in your house attire for a moment to make yourself a cup of the same Earl Grey Tea. The hazy lights emitting from your room blended effortlessly with the flourescent ones in the kitchen; each beam clung to your body in such away Iwazumi was glad neither of his friends witnessed the moment he fell in love with California and all that came with it. 

This afternoon was a different story as you liked the way Iwazumi allowed his natural blush to bubble to the surface of his cheeks and you could swear you saw a fraction of the high school volleyball ace shine through. The sunlight danced around the stainless steel details of the kitchen where you shared secrets, recipes, and drinks with your best friend. His free hand chose to move away from the counter finding its resting place under your chin. The cup of tea Iwazumi held earlier was placed next to the stove on the coaster by the sink. 

You steady your breathing right before you felt Iwazumi’s breath on your cupid’s bow; his lips pressed against yours gingerly as though he felt his brain light up and catch a fire he needed to not run away from; everything he wanted to know about you was answered as soon as your hands cup his face. I think I like this, your conscience is egging you on to pursue his touch for a while longer. It was a silent acknowledgement of the other’s presence in the present moment. 

“Hm,” you hear him hum in mutual amusement when you return his kiss. The pads of his fingers trace the highest points of your face teasingly. He wanted answers to the questions your lips asked. When you two separate for a moment, you realize you might have been too forward, but when you move your hands away from his face only to hug him in a loose embrace, you couldn’t help the next words from posing a question.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” your coquettish tone made Iwazumi’s answer very apparent as you suddenly took into account the last couple of weeks and the way both of you came to enjoy each other’s company during study group hours at either your place as the primary location or the cafe down the road from the apartment complex. (Iwazumi’s frequent visits weren’t for tutoring necessarily, about a majority of the time it was to see you as an added bonus). 

Iwazumi did not have to be told twice; he enveloped you in his strong arms, he hoisted you up from under your knees and placed you a top the counter with gentle assertive force. Your legs wrapped around his fit waist as you gripped his biceps for leverage prior to letting the old ace prove his strength by placing you on top of the graphite counter like a doll. 

“Comfortable?” Iwazumi’s expression was more seductive than profound.

“Very,” you reply as you unwind your legs from his body. “Where were we?”

Your hands wrapped around his neck before pulling him close to you again. A smug smile cut across both of your faces for a brief moment until your lips hovered over his for the second time. This time, you let him kiss you the way you knew he had been meaning to since he showed up at your door less than fifteen minutes prior book in hand. When Iwazumi kissed you at the current moment, the world crumbled and fell away; it was somehow comforting in a way that words would not compare to. His actions listened to the way you were setting the pace with the same tenacity as he showed you. The scent of his sandalwood conditioner mixed well with your ocean scented dry shampoo. 

Your eyes were still closed when you felt your hands card through his ever-present spiky hair. His right hand rested below your ear, using the pad of his thumb and forefinger to caress your cheek and jawline again. You feel him smile against your own lips when you nipped the corner of his mouth playfully. You break apart long enough for your partner in the kitchen to began to sneakily undoing your top two buttons of your blouse to press his lips against your exposed skin. You let out a whimper in the heat of the moment the second his lips began to leave a trail of reverberating echoes in the simplest of ways securing his hold on your soul that very day.

“Beautiful girl,” Iwazumi murmurs as his eyes met yours when he was done having his fun. His voice was cautious, but when his arms began to hover over your own, you felt your heart rate speed up right as he told you this: “Tell me, what other sounds can you make for me?” 

“Is that a challenge?” you retort, your hands disappearing under his hoodie to feel the fabric of his undershirt. Your hand stopped roaming atop of his chest; he was liking this. You could tell by the way he was taunting you with his smirk. “Because I was wondering the same thing. Do you want me to remove my hand?”

“No.”

Your hands could have been made of branding tools and Iwazumi wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. He chuckled at your question before you brought him down to your level and your lips met again. The sound he made upon impact was as though you broke him yet healed him at the same time; time was on your side for this one and you proved he wasn’t the only monster in the kitchen. There was a hunger there behind every kiss you let him have; you were smiling in the between long enough to feel his heart beat faster through the fabric of his undershirt.

Your hands automatically removed themselves from his shirt and were found holding on to the aglet of the drawstrings from the hoodie he was wearing. Iwazumi kissed your fingers before proceeding with posing a question to you.

“Just so we’re clear,” your voice was bold and daring. It was one of the many things he liked about you both in and out of campus grounds. The small details was what Iwazumi liked the most and the subtle tells of how you, Yukihira, and even the other members of the study group didn’t make him feel so alone like when he first arrived to California to study.

“Whatever this is between you and I, does it mean we’re...together?” 

You make a sign in the air with your palms up and point between you and him. Iwazumi clears his throat as he taps his lips to tease you and that was when he saw it: a younger version of you covered in sidewalk chalk in your neighborhood (much the same as you saw reflections of the former ace/vice captain).

“If you’ll let me take you to the Monster Movie marathon on Monday,” he answered when he linked his right hand digits with your left and you capture his lips again on your own volition. Your ears perked up at this, you drop the string you played with and patted his chest with a light rapt. 

“Eager to make me your girlfriend aren’t you?” You laugh and Iwazumi furrowed his brows, but you silence his worries in one swift and simple move: you kiss him with the intent of either being his salvation or his torment, either way Iwazumi was not complaining. The girl who loves to read about Lovecraftian monsters and the boy who was a monster chaser shared a love as unique as themselves: like a secret they each wanted to keep  behind closed doors.

His only vice was the fact that his social call was coming to an end and every ounce of his well being was fighting to stay here with you. You back down for a moment only to showcase your best attempt at a flattering smile to match his own. Iwazumi would never let you know this at the time, but seeing that smile on your face made his list of top three things he found most precious in the world. This wasn’t a crush anymore was the proper conclusion you both concluded. 

“Meet at your place at 7:30,” you suggest. Iwazumi released your hand from his to step back as you hopped down from the kitchen counter you made a seat of. 

“I’ll see you then ‘Ms. Lovecraft’.” The nickname he bestowed upon you was one that made the butterflies come back in a flurry; this was the start of something special, but you didn’t know it at this point in time that the name will be used to describe your affinity for Iwazumi’s unyielding devotion to you (the seeds were planted in both of your hearts and the two of you waited for them to bloom).

Iwazumi made his way back toward the hallway and faced your apartment’s front door again. You refastened both buttons he undid prior to reaching for the door knob. 

“For what it’s worth,” your not-so-innocent tone in your voice begins to come through. His darkened eyes observe you undo your top knot and shook your shoulder-length hair to reveal the fullness of your wavy locks. You place your hand on his wrist and the other was on the door knob. He stopped you from opening the door with a softened glance; pressing his lips lightly on your brow bone. 

“I really like it when you come over Iwazumi. Thank you for dropping off the book.” You tap your fingers thoughtfully on your lips as a silent form of thanking him for the other part outside of the tangible order.

“Hajime, y/n,” he whispers his given name in your ear in order to get one last rile out of you before kissing your temple, and you could swear you could hear your heart beat in your ears. “Call me that from now on, ok?”

“Ok,” you swiftly reply. “Only if you continue to call me Lovecraft, haha.”

Iwazumi takes his leave when he thinksof how the next time he sees you, it’ll be filled with magic, mayhem, and the movie playing in his heart was one he would like to share with you for as long as it takes.

You rush to your room to retrieve your cell phone and immediately text Yukihira who was in the middle of her break between classes:

『from y/n: i have a date on monday night. the book came btw. thanks yukihira』

『from Yukihira: iwazumi asked you to go out with him, didn’t he? have fun and remember to not do anything i wouldn’t do. ;) 』

『from y/n: of course. and even if we did, i wouldn’t even hear the end of it from you. you’d might have an easier time talking to iwazumi than me, let’s be honest.』

『from Yukihira: (n˘v˘•)¬ oh you know me so well. see you later tonight.』

—November XX, 14:43 (2:43pm): 

First dates & a glimpse into their social medias (ft. Iwazumi, Babs (y/n), & Yukihira)

Iwazumi credit

Suffice to say that Mondays became your favorite day after this kiss...😌

Bonus:

Instagram posts from our UCIrvine trio ft. Iwazumi, Yukihira, & Y/N-san

[forinseong]

SF9 인성과 휘영의 초상

GQ: Now that I see you in person, you’re very tall.

It’s probably because there are tall members within the group. Haha.

GQ: SF9’s refreshing average height is a positive point of theirs. You just finished up promotions for your 8th mini album, but what song have you been humming to these days?

I’ve been practicing ‘Honesty’ by Pink Sweat$. It’s a song that suits a rainy day like today.

GQ: I’m curious how ‘Honesty’ sung by Inseong would sound like.

When I first listened to this song, I was also curious as to how it would sound like if I sang it. There are songs that make me want to try singing them, but I feel like that’s what a good song is.

GQ: You appeared on ‘Masked Singer’ and received reviews, saying that you had a good vocal color. Have you thought about what kind of song you should sing to stand out more?

To be honest, I don’t think I’m at a level where I can choose that yet. I’ll have to try hard at everything. If you look at SF9’s past promotions, I’ve been able to try out a variety of genres such as Latin pop, trap, house, and ballads.

GQ: Then among those, which song do you feel shows your personal taste the most?

‘My Story,. My Song’ from this album. It’s a pop ballad song, which I like. My body also moves up and down when I listen to ‘Lullu Lalla’ from our 1st full-length album.

GQ: Do you remember when you first started singing?

My first experience with singing in front of people would have to be in university. I’m not sure what kind of ambition I had then, but I joined a singing club and sang Jo Sung Mo senior’s ‘Do You Know’ without warming up and went off-pitch. Haha.

GQ: It seems like you’re the type to just try something out first. I heard that you originally went to university with a goal of becoming an announcer, but ended up starting a trainee life later.

Fortunately, I was given the chance to audition. I think I had the mindset of, ‘If not now, then when could I try becoming a singer?’. Since I was still young, I thought that it would be okay even if the results weren’t good.

GQ: You succeeded like this though. So after trying it out, what are your thoughts on it?

This might sound like the obvious, but I think being able to make a team with good members and try out a variety of experiences like this is really fun. I’m not the type to worry about things all that much. Whatever it may be, I try not to overthink it.

GQ: You’re one of the eldest hyungs within your group, so what kind of hyung are you to the other members?

I believe we’re all the same members and that age doesn’t really hold a big meaning. No matter what, having fun when you’re working is important. If Youngbin, who is the same age as me and the leader, is in charge of decisions and mediating, then I would say that I’m the type to give support and take care of the mood.

GQ: I feel like I know what kind of person you are. Then can you tell us about Hwiyoung, who you’re filming this photoshoot with today? Like something that isn’t well-known.

Ever since our debut, I’ve mentioned that Hwiyoung is the one who comes out well in photos. He also has a sentimental side. And although it’s covered by his chic looks, he’s actually someone who’s really cute. I’ve been going to schedules with Hwiyoung often these days, but I’ve been able to feel that he’s a lovable person.

GQ: I saw that you appeared on ‘Problematic Men’ and answered questions quickly, but I heard that you also had talents in drawing. What’s something else that the multi-talented Inseong has a desire for besides singing?

Since I like talking, I want to become better at it. I think I could really enjoy being a radio host. Also, I recently wrapped up filmings for a web drama, <Dokgobin is Updating>, with Hwiyoung, but I want to continue acting as well. It was difficult to the point where I felt that the other members who act are really amazing, but it had its charms.

GQ: If you could upgrade your own abilities, what comes to mind?

Whether it’s singing, performance skills, or talking, I think I would choose anything that can be shown on stage. I want to contribute to people thinking that SF9 is a really great and charming team.

GQ: If you could only choose one thing between singing and talking, which would you choose?

Of course, singing takes 0th place. There’s no such thing as an easy song in the world. Even though I’m really familiar with our national anthem, I think I would still feel burdened if I had to sing it alone on stage.

GQ: You didn’t slightly debate between your choices just now, right?

Ah, how could I.

GQ: Is it hard for you to figure out who you are too? Inseong said that there are a lot of cute sides to you that differ from your looks.

Hwiyoung: To Inseong hyung, I’m a reckless dongsaeng. Since Hyung looks at me like a child, I can act like one.

GQ: What kind of hyung is Inseong?

Hwiyoung: On top of being smart and funny, he matches well to others and helps you to feel comfortable. There really aren’t a lot of people like Hyung.

Translation credit

[sweetingly]

My Darlin’

A Billy Hargrove Imagine (a short series)

———

Third Person POV:

“Come on Y/N, we have to go! Every single senior is going and we can’t seem like total losers.” Steve, her best friend, whined while tugging on her arm.

Y/N laughed at her friend’s childish behavior, slamming her locker shut. “I wish I could go Steve, but I already told you my family and I have plans for the tonight.”

His brown eyes stare at her pleadingly, and she lets out a low groan. Every time he gave her the same look he was giving now, she couldn’t turn him down. “Alright, alright! You better give me the best damn lie to tell my family though.”

“Oh trust me, I won’t let you down, buddy.” He teases before leaving her alone at locker and heading towards his class.

Taking that as her cue to get to her fifth period, she begins walking the opposite direction. Checking if she had everything she needed for Calculus, her eyes were searching over the book and supplies in her arms. Without a warning, her body collides into another person, their arms wrapping around her waist to keep her from falling.

“Woah there, darlin’.” A deep, husky voice catches Y/N’s attention and she’s met with a new face. A new hot face.

His low chuckle brings her back to reality, and she clings onto her belongings tighter. “For future preferences, you should probably keep your eyes up.” The newbie tells her before letting her go and walking in the other direction.

Y/N can’t help, but watch as he stops to speak to a group of other students. All of them laughing at something real quick then he continued walking down the hallway. Her daydreaming was interrupted once the late bell rang loudly, causing her to race to her class on the second floor.

———

The bell rang signaling the students that the school day was finally over and their Friday festivities could begin. Stuffing her belongings in her backpack, Y/N stalks out of the classroom following the rest of her classmates. She had got everything she needed out of her locker so all she needed to do was meet Steve at his car.

“Hop in dipshit!” Steve pulls up in front Y/N before she could go look for his car in the lot. She rolls her eyes at the new nickname, climbing in the vehicle and throwing her bag into the backseat. “I was thinking we could hang at the mall until the party starts.”

Y/N nods, “Sounds fun, just take me home first. I hope you came up with the best lie ever that you’ll be telling my parents.”

“Oh trust me, it’ll probably be the best one I’ve made up.” Steve smiles happily, and with that they begin to make their way to Y/N’s house.

The radio in Steve’s car plays music on a low volume so the two could hear one another if they were to speak. However, while Y/N sat in the front seat her mind still wondered about the newbie who she had ran into earlier.

“Hey, did you know we had a new kid?” She questions breaking the silence. “I bumped into him before fifth.”

Steve shakes his head while keeping his eyes on the road. “No. You know how it is at our school when we get new people, no one really cares. If they do then that means they must be someone like you.”

“Like me? What’s that suppose to mean?” She lightly chuckles, feeling confused.

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb. As soon as people heard that the mayors daughter would be moving here- literally the whole town wanted to get to know you. Open your eyes, Y/N, we all see you as the most perfect person ever.” He explains and Y/N thought about it for a second, realizing he was actually correct.

Even though the newbie was unexplainably hot, Y/N noticed how no one- not even the troublesomes spoke about him in her classes.

With no more words exchanged on the topic, Steve parked the car once they arrived at her house. They both climb out of the car and Steve locks it behind them as they begin to walk towards the huge house.

“I’m home, Daddy!” Y/N happily announces when they get inside. Before her and Steve got a chance to go speak to her parents, two little children came running towards them.

“Stevie!!” The kids singsonged as they wrapped their arms below his waist. “Are you joining us for family night?” Tony questioned.

Steve sends them a sad frown, “I won’t be tonight, I actually wanted to know if I could steal your sister for the night. What do you guys think?”

Kate happily claps her hands once she lets go of Steve, clinging on to the hem of Y/N’s shirt. “Are you finally going on a date? This is great!”

Steve and Y/N look at each other before laughing, Y/N bending down to her sister‘s level. “Oh no, we’ll just be hanging out with each other as friends- nothing more.”

As Y/N explained that to Kate, Steve wanted to jump and finally admit that he didn’t Y/N see as a friend anymore. He’s liked her every since he first laid eyes on her, but she’d never see him in that type of way. So he kept his mouth shut, her Dad and Stepmom making their way to the front entrance.

“Oh what a surprise!” Winnie’s smiles when she sees the two teens at the door with the youngins. “Steve, will you be joining us tonight?” Larry questions, his hand sinking down into his pockets.

Steve shakes his head, “Not tonight, sir. I was wondering if I could steal Y/N for night? We’ll just be going to the mall and then back to my house, since a few us are getting together for study session.”

Her eyes widen when she hears study session. This really was NOT his best one yet, she thought. But of course, with her parent being airheads half of the time, they believed him and his charming personality.

“I don’t see why we’d say no to that.” Winnie proudly stated, “Y/N, why don’t you go freshen up before you guys head out.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, telling Steve she’d meet him at the car before she ran upstairs to change. Throwing her bag on her bed, she races over to her closet choosing a outfit for a party, but also making sure it was something she’d “study” in. Once she found a simple white tee and a denim skirt she threw it on along with her slightly dirty white converse. Grabbing her purse and shoving her wallet and other personal items into it, she ran back downstairs.

“Love you guys, have a goodnight!” She shouts, and runs out the door before more words could be shared.

Getting into the car, Steve noticed that Y/N was actually dressed in something different aside from her normal jeans and graphic tees. Not that he had a problem with her normal style- it was just nice seeing the girly side of his best friend every now and then.

“You going to drive or just stare at me the whole time, creep?” She teases, breaking him away from his daze.

He shrugs it off by playful rolling his eyes, “Let the fun begin.”

———

Some teens would be super excited to go to parties considering it involved drinking, drugs, sex, and dancing. However, Y/N wasn’t enjoying it one bit. The girl had been left alone about twenty minutes ago when Steve had been invited to play a game in another part of the house. Y/N being her usual self, she decided to stay on the couch alone while drunken laughter and horrible singing surrounded her.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N?” Someone questioned from beside her, and she made eye contact with someone, whom she didn’t exactly recognize.

Her brow raises as she turns to the unfamiliar face. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong one, dude.”

The person chuckles, “How could you forget your ole’ buddy from the eighth grade?”

“Oh my god! Logan, what are you doing here?” She happily gives him a friendly hug, pulling away after a second.

“I’m just visiting a friend for the weekend. He told me about this party and I didn’t wanna come at first, but I’m glad I did now.” He winks, causing her to blush a little.

“You must be exhausted from your drive from Chicago. How long did it take you?” Y/N asks, sipping on her drink from the red plastic cup.

Logan shakes his head, “Not long, besides I’d rather drive hours than stay in that hellhole back in Chicago.” He tells her and she sends him a slightly sympathetic expression.

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear you still have to deal with your shitty parents. Just know that you have this school year to get through and then you can finally move out.” She assures him and he agrees.

“Yeah, I can’t wait- hoping to move someplace on the west coast. I need something new.” He explains. “Enough about my sob story though, how does it feel to be known as the Mayor’s daughter? I heard you became popular quick once you moved down here.”

Y/N lets out a light laugh, “I guess you could say that, but it honestly feels pretty normal to me. I really just want everyone to treat me like they treat others so that’s what they do. I do appreciate being here more than Chicago- I feel more welcomed by my Dad and his family.”

Logan knew what she meant by the last part and he felt sympathy for her too. Scooting closer to her he places a hand on her thigh which Y/N doesn’t take too well, causing her to pull away instantly. She sends him an awkward smile before losing eye contact with him.

“Who’s your friend that you’re visiting? I might know them since it’s such a small town.” She changes the subject.

“His name’s Tommy- I’ve heard he’s known as the biggest dick in this town.” He says.

“Oh I’ve heard that too...I’ve never really spoken to him, but I hear lots of rumors and they’re not good ones.” She admits, instantly knowing who his friend was.

Once that was said, silence floats between the both of them. Without saying anything else, Logan felt the need to place his hand on her thigh again. Y/N’s breath hitching, and it wasn’t because she liked it- she actually felt uncomfortable.

“Logan...” Her sentence stops once she turns to him only to realize how close his face was to hers. “Could you-“

“Relax, Y/N.” He whispers and that’s when she smells the beer in his breath.

He was drunk this whole time and she hadn’t even noticed.

Before she got a chance to speak, his lips press to hers. The kiss he wanted to last forever only lasted for less than second, especially since she pushed him away. Her fist instantly colliding with his left eye as soon as she got the chance.

“What the absolute fuck?! You’re such a dickhead!” She shouts, getting up and running upstairs, making sure he didn’t follow.

Running to the first bedroom, she swings the door open making sure to close it and lock it behind her. She had no clue where Steve was, but she was staying in here until it was time to go.

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” A voice says from behind her, almost giving her a heart attack. Spinning around she’s met with the newbie from school, a lit cancerous stick was placed in between his lips.

“Damn,” He chuckled as he took the cig out. “Cat got your tongue again?”

Y/N breaks away from her thoughts, completely forgetting they were the only two in the room and he was obviously talking to her.

“I’m sorry,” She manages to speak up, heavy breaths still escaping from her as she tried to recover from the sprinting she had just did. “Umm, I was just playing around with a friend- a little game of hide and seek.”

“Well it doesn’t seem like a game, considering that your arm is bleeding.” He points the cig to her right arm.

“Huh?” Her eyes then glance down to where he was looking and she finally saw it. Logan must’ve scratched her in the process, but she was too busy worrying about getting him off her to where she didn’t even notice it until now. “It’s fine...I’m fine.”

Newbie chuckles once more, “No you’re not, let me clean it up for you, darlin’.” Without giving her chance to respond, he grabs a hold of her hand, taking her into the bedroom’s bathroom.

Y/N hops on the counter as he opens the top drawer for the first aid kit. She can’t help but feel somewhat shy as she sat there.

“You really don’t talk much, do you?” He breaks the silence, getting out the alcohol and the wrapping bandage.

She shrugs, not really knowing what to say. “I do talk, I just don’t know you...that’s all.”

Not giving a warning he rubs alcohol on the the three scratches and she jumps, hissing at the same time.

“My bad, I meant to give you a heads up.” He apologizes, fanning the area so it’d dry quicker. “Billy.” He simply says after a few minutes, causing her to raise her eyebrow in confusion. “My name’s Billy. See, now you know me so you can talk more.”

Y/N chuckles, “You’re still a complete stranger to me. For all I know, you could be the town’s serial killer.”

“Well I’m not,” He states as he finishes up wrapping up the cuts. “Plus a serial killer wouldn’t help their victims clean up their wounds. If I were then you’d be dead be now.”

“Mm, I guess you’ve got a point.” Y/N begins, swinging her legs back and forth. “Y/N, my name’s Y/N by the way.”

Billy eyes her for a second as he still stood in between her legs, his arms then set themselves on both sides of her. The smell of smoke and cologne filled Y/N’s nostrils, but for some reason she didn’t mind it.

“I remember bumping into you during school, but I didn’t know you were the famous Y/N.” He says after a few seconds of silence, his body still close to hers. “You’re nothing like who I imagined.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow, as she crosses her arms over her chest. “What did you imagine me as?”

He shrugs, fixing the position his legs were in. “Bitchy.” He simple says, a small smirk making its way onto his lips.

“Wow I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” She tells him, a teasingly.

Billy lowly laughs, backing off of her. He then digs into his back pocket pulling out another cig and lighting it.

“You know smoking’s bad for you.” Y/N sasses as she watches him blow out a puff of smoke. “Oh yeah? Who would’ve thought that.” He sarcastically answered, walking out of the bathroom.

Following behind him, she watches as he grabs his jacket and car keys off the bed.

“Are you leaving?” She questions, pausing him in his tracks. “Or going back down to the party?”

“There’s no way I’m going back down to that lame ass party.” He tells her, putting the cig into his mouth.

“Take me with you.” She blurts without thinking, Billy raising an eyebrow in her direction. “Please?”

“You thought I was a serial killer earlier and now you want to join me on ditching some party?“ He asks and she happily nods.

“I’d rather not be here anyway and I can’t find my friend- I just wanna get out of here too, especially after what happened.” She explains, referring to the small incident that happened with Logan earlier.

Billy scans over her face, and he notices that she seemed somewhat afraid. He figured that whatever traumatic event occurred then it be on her mind for awhile. Having some sympathy for her, he sighs, letting out a puff of smoke once again.

“Alright.” Billy simple says, “You can join me.”

“Oh thank god.” She smiles, following him out of the room. “Where are we going?”

Billy stares down at her, “Just trust me- it’ll be someplace better than here, darlin’.”

———

My apologies this is just my first imagine so it’s not the best, but I promise the next part will be better! Anyway, I’m a new blog and I’ll be writing imagines for Dacre Montgomery/Billy Hargrove, Joe Keery/Steve Harrington, Tom Holland/Peter Parker, any of the Why Dont We boy, and Dylan O’Brien. So if you have any requests then send them to me and I’ll try my best to get to them soon. Much love!! <3 <3

[syntaxeme]

I Could’ve Danced All Night [RadioDust]

[Read on AO3]  CW: Blood, knifeplay Summary: Alastor goes to a strip club looking for a victim and ends up finding something very different. It turns out Al and Angel Dust are fucked up in similar (or complementary) ways, and Alastor doesn't know how to handle 'clicking' with someone like this. (RadioDust Week day 1: dancing)

— — –

It began with a dance.

The music wasn’t of the sort Alastor typically enjoyed. Too much bass. No feeling in the composition. Mindless, almost, there for one purpose and one purpose alone—though he supposed he shouldn’t expect much more from a strip club. Besides, it served its purpose well enough; the dancers on stage certainly used the rhythm to their advantage.

Alastor sat on the far left side of the room, simply waiting and observing, keeping an eye out for a potential target. There was a girl strutting and preening on the stage nearest him, but she was focusing her attention on the other men in the area, likely unnerved by his smile. That was fine. She was too meek to be a satisfying kill.

It didn’t much matter to him exactly what type of demon he wound up leaving with: a patron, a bartender, maybe even one of the limber performers. Every person’s death was unique, so it wouldn’t do to count anyone out based on conditions like that. All he really wanted was an individual, someone singular, someone who stood out. And then he planned to spend the entire night exploring exactly how that individual responded to fear, to pain, to panic. The thought had him almost giddy with excitement.

“All right, you filthy fuckin’ sinners,” a gravel-voiced demon announced from somewhere unseen, “how many of you ever seen an angel up close?” A lascivious cheer raised in many of the patrons, but Alastor was puzzled by the phrasing. Surely they couldn’t mean an actual angel. Was it even possible for one of them to survive in Hell? Now that would be an interesting target. “Give it up for the hottest piece of ass in Hell, Angel Duuust!”

The music kicked up louder still as, on the stage in the very center of the room, yet another scantily-clad demon descended into view, spiraling down one of those poles to stop just inches from the floor in a dramatic pose that sent the audience into a frenzy yet again. Not a real angel, clearly, but an interesting figure nevertheless.

He—at least Alastor assumed the demon was a man based on his body language and general lack of curves—was a tall, spindly creature with two sets of arms and legs for miles. A gold tooth glinted in his sharp smile as he danced, and it was obvious from his playful demeanor that he was perfectly at home in this position. And the way he moved… Alastor had trouble taking in every aspect of the performance at once, his eyes lingering on one hand running through Angel Dust’s hair while the others slid slowly down his slender legs. Then all four hands grasped the pole again to fling the dancer’s lithe body around it in another quick spiral.

Oh yes, that was very promising. The entire performance was meant to arouse desire in the viewer, and while it wasn’t of a sexual sort, Alastor’s interest was piqued nevertheless. From the sound of things, this Angel Dust was a popular performer, meaning it would be noticed if/when he disappeared. But that had never stopped Alastor from pursuing what he wanted in the past.

When the song finished (in a manner of speaking, as the music here seemed to be unending), Angel Dust strolled around the perimeter of the stage collecting tips from his audience, pausing here or there to reward individual patrons with a come-hither smile or a stroke of their cheek. So that was the way to get his attention. Fair enough.

As he sauntered across the catwalk that led from the center stage to the one along the far wall, Alastor produced his wallet and tossed a handful of bills at the feet of the dancer in front of him, not making any particular effort to connect with her. Unfortunately, this little stunt had an unexpected side effect; like sharks smelling blood, the dancers saw him so blithely spending money and swarmed him immediately.

“How are you over here all alone, handsome?”

“Is that mean ol’ Stella ignoring you?”

“If you wanted company, you could’ve just asked.”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, another on his arm, a third even so bold as to stroke up his knee, and he struggled not to show how uncomfortable he was with suddenly being crowded and touched without his consent.

“Ahem. You girls are lookin’ pretty thirsty,” a new voice said, and Alastor looked up to find none other than Angel Dust gazing down at them from the stage. The previous girl was now gathering up her tips to move elsewhere. “Why don’tcha go get a drink? My treat.”

Although the other dancers seemed put off by his interruption, they didn’t argue, one by one taking their hands from Alastor’s body and stalking off toward the bar. “Sorry about that,” Angel Dust added, his eyes sweeping curiously up and down the Radio Demon as he gracefully sank to his knees. “Some gals don’t know how to read between the lines, y’know?”

“And you do?” Alastor didn’t even try to pretend he was looking over every inch of the demon in front of him—but then, that was probably what he wanted.

“Sure. Like I can tell by lookin’ at ya that you wouldn’t be satisfied with just any girl. I get the feelin’ your tastes are a little more…” He licked his fingertips and ran them lightly down the center of his chest with a knowing smirk, posing to display his lengthy figure. “Exotic.”

Oh, you have no idea.

“And what gives you that impression?”

“Well, you were watchin’ me awful close in my first dance,” Angel Dust pointed out, lifting two of his hands in a shrug while the other two moved along the shape of his body. Seeing the mild surprise on Alastor’s face at having been caught staring, he laughed. “Eyes like yours are kinda hard to miss in a dark room. And I’ve gotten pretty good at noticin’ when someone wants me. So what is it you want, baby?” While he awaited an answer, he rested his hands on the stage and leaned forward, showcasing the unusual curves of his chest.

“Now that would be telling,” Alastor teased, fishing another twenty out of his wallet.

“All right, play hard to get if ya want.” The dancer’s two-toned eyes were fixed on the money in his hands. “How about your name? Will ya tell me that?”

“Alastor.” He offered the bill folded between two fingers, but when Angel Dust reached for it, he pulled away. “Say it for me, would you?”

Though he looked surprised by the request, he still obliged, dropping his voice slightly and purring in return, “Alastor.” His voice was nice enough. Something about the sound, in fact, was enough to send a surprising chill through the Radio Demon’s body.

“Once more?” he prompted, his own volume lowering a bit.

Angel Dust leaned closer still, enough that he was on his hands and knees and leaning off the edge of the stage, and moaned breathlessly, “Alastor.” Suppressing another chill, Alastor surrendered the money without further argument, and a pleased smirk curled the dancer’s lips as he took it. “I’m Angel. And hey, if ya like hearin’ it that much, maybe stick around after my shift’s over and we can talk in private.”

“Is that so?” He’s making this entirely too easy. “You may want to be more careful about making offers like that, cher. You’re certain to get more than you bargain for someday.”

“Mm, you promise?” Angel asked mischievously, his eagerness not fading in the slightest as he got to his feet again. “Hey, I’m a big boy; I can take care of myself. I’d be more worried about whether you can keep up with me.”

Well, he’d never been able to resist a challenge. “I suppose we’ll have to find out, then.”

“I suppose we will.” At the sound of some drunken demon from another table obnoxiously demanding Angel’s attention, his smile soured into a pout, and Alastor’s eyes flashed with irritation. Clearly, Angel had done an admirable job of catching his attention; he now couldn’t imagine leaving with anyone else. “If you’re interested, meet me out back at one fifteen.” With a wink in Alastor’s direction, he strolled delicately down the stage to meet the lummox who had called for him, planting his hands on his hips and playfully chastising the other demon for his impatience.

The following two hours were torture, and Alastor enjoyed every anticipatory moment. He remained where he was, absently tipping whichever dancer happened to be in front of him at the moment, but his eyes stayed on Angel as he worked the room. Not once but twice more, Angel was called to center stage for a feature dance of his own, and both times, he stole a glance or two in Alastor’s direction to be sure he was still watching. Which he was. Intently.

The club closed at 1 a.m., and Alastor did as instructed, going around the back of the building to find out exactly what ‘talk in private’ translated to. Unfortunately, it seemed that some other demons had a similar idea, as he found two of them waiting under the light of a yellow halogen bulb when he arrived. Noticing them watching him warily, he gave them a winning smile and a polite nod. “Gentlemen.”

One of them seemed fully ready to ignore him, but the other narrowed his eyes. “You were the one takin’ up all Angel’s time earlier,” he growled. Alastor only then recognized him as the same brute who had stolen Angel’s attention before. Quite a forgettable face, apparently.

“We spoke, yes. Is that a problem?”

“Only if you think you’re takin’ him home.” The other demon took a step closer, drawing his shoulders back, trying to come off as imposing. Still drunk, clearly. “I been savin’ up for weeks to get him to myself, and no bowtie-wearin’ radio talk show host is gonna steal him out from under me.” He grasped a handful of Alastor’s coat, and the Radio Demon’s smile broadened into something menacing.

“My friend, I’m going to allow you five full seconds in which to remove your hands from my person and yourself from my sight before you lose something much more valuable than a single night of good company.”

“Oh yeah? What the fuck are you gonna do to make me?”

“Four,” Alastor answered simply. Really, the restraint he showed by offering this grace period was impressive in itself. “Three.”

“Uh, Tino, maybe you should listen to him, man,” the remaining demon said as he noticed the shadows lengthening across the ground, darkness edging into the halo of light around the club’s back door.

“Two.”

“Fuck this.” Tino had apparently gotten fed up with the countdown, but as he drew back a fist and Alastor reached ‘one,’ the light snapped out, just long enough for the shadows to overtake both Tino and his companion. Alastor didn’t bother taking extra time to savor their deaths. They were meaningless, nothing but an obstacle to what was sure to be the most enjoyable night he’d had in years. He crushed them and dropped their bodies into the dumpster against the wall without so much as a hair out of place.

When the light flickered back to life, he had managed to contain himself into a veneer of nonchalance. Consider this an appetizer, he told himself. And indeed he was only that much hungrier for something with more substance.

It was actually closer to 1:30 when Angel finally exited the club, but when he saw Alastor there, he smiled brightly. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, now dressed in a scant mini dress and half-jacket, still showing off his shape nicely. “So let’s talk prices before we go any further.” Alastor listened with vague interest as he explained how much his ‘company’ would cost per hour, which acts would cost extra, etc., and he agreed to all of it. He could afford the cost if necessary, but that wasn’t how he planned for the night to end.

He then led the way to the hotel room he had booked for exactly this purpose, Angel clinging to his arm and making all sorts of suggestive comments, none of which really did much for him. Once they were inside and Alastor locked the door behind them, Angel shed his jacket and set it aside along with his purse. “So where d’ya want me, handsome? Right here against the wall? Bent over the table? Ooh, maybe out on the balcony where anyone could see?” It was difficult to tell how much of this was just teasing and how much was serious.

“Why don’t we start here?” Alastor gestured to the bed, and although Angel pouted over the vanilla selection, he sat down nevertheless. It seemed he was always aware of how to hold his body and how it looked, always keen on keeping his angles as attractive as possible. “Are there any ground rules you’d like to set? Boundaries?”

Angel laughed at that like it was a ridiculous question. “Nah, I’m down for pretty much whatever. Whatever you’re into, baby.”

“Really? No restrictions at all?” Alastor asked, raising an eyebrow at him. This was already going much smoother than usual; how could Angel so easily trust a man he’d only just met?

“Well, like what? Whaddaya have in mind?”

“Like pain,” Alastor answered readily enough. Sliding his fingers through Angel’s hair, he grasped a handful of it and tilted his head back, drawing a gasp from his lips. “Biting. Clawing. Cutting.”

“That’s…fine.” He leaned his head easily into Alastor’s touch, apparently willing, even eager, to be abused without protest. Another inexplicable shiver—of what? interest? excitement?—coursed through the Radio Demon’s body. Still, he managed to keep his voice even.

“What about being bound?”

“Yes, please,” Angel purred. “I told you, whatever you wanna do is okay. Just don’t keep me waitin’ all night.” He leaned closer, lifting his head, eyes locked on Alastor’s lips, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine what he wanted. So Alastor gave it to him. After all, how often was his prey so agreeable? Why not explore the more unusual aspects of the situation? Their lips met, and already his tongue was forcing its way into Angel’s mouth, tasting lemon and liquor from whatever cocktails he’d had earlier. Gradually, his blunt ferocity faded into something slower and easier, and his dancer-turned-escort treated him to soft whimpers and whines of desire.

“Uh. You…said somethin’ about tyin’ me up?” Angel mumbled, clinging to Alastor’s coat even as they separated. Something about the gesture felt very different from his experience with Tino earlier, so it didn’t bother him. He unknotted his tie and slipped it out of his collar, then knelt behind Angel to tie his wrists at his back. “Sounds like you’re gonna get a little rough. Maybe we should have a safe word?”

“No need,” Alastor answered, determining the best way to bind all four of Angel’s hands at once and making sure they were tied tightly. “If you want me to stop, just say so, and I will.” Or not. It would depend on how the evening went.

“Huh. What a gentleman.” Once Angel’s hands were bound, Alastor got up to shrug out of his coat and rolled his sleeves up, then turned the lights out to leave a single lamp in the far corner as their only illumination. Despite being so tall, Angel turned out to be surprisingly light, so rather than ask him to lie down, Alastor simply lifted him and then pushed him down against the bed on his back while his breath turned heavier with anticipation. He did look nice this way, sprawled and squirming, awaiting whatever Alastor chose to do with his body.

Part of his enjoyment typically came from his victim’s fear—but he supposed there was no need to rush. They would get there in due time. For now, he pressed his lips to Angel’s neck, kisses quickly turning rough and leading to bites that broke skin and drew blood. Angel shuddered and arched and groaned “fuck” under his breath but didn’t try to escape. His hips lifted slightly, so Alastor pressed them down with his own, enjoying the choked cry that fled his guest’s lips. His blood was hot, hotter than most, and delicious, but Alastor made a point of not lapping it all up, preferring to let some stain Angel’s skin and the sheets instead.

“Beautiful,” he purred, and he could’ve sworn an anemic blush painted Angel’s cheeks.

“Y-y’know,” he breathed, “you were kinda scarin’ me a minute ago. Talkin’ about ‘pain’ and all. But if this is the worst you got…” That almost sounded like a challenge. In fact, judging by the playful smirk curving his lips, it absolutely was.

“Careful what you wish for, cher.” Alastor’s hands slid up the sides of Angel’s thighs, underneath the hem of his skirt and up toward his hips, then dug his fingernails in and dragged them down roughly, forcing Angel’s hips closer to his own and coaxing a deep, tortured cry from his throat. Although visual art wasn’t typically Alastor’s genre of choice, he couldn’t help but appreciate the angry, stark red lines against Angel’s pale skin.

“More,” the dancer begged, pleading at Alastor with eyes hazed in lust or pain or distress; it was hard to say which. Regardless, it was compelling. Slipping a hand into his pocket, Alastor produced an ivory-handled switchblade knife, which he opened with the press of a button. This little blade had seen him through countless situations much like (yet far different from) this one, and it was still sharp as ever. Upon seeing it, Angel’s eyes grew wider, but he still didn’t protest, biting his lip and waiting to see what Alastor would do with it.

The Radio Demon was sure to take his time about this, first running the cool metal along the still-hot welts on Angel’s thigh to make him shiver. He then traced the edge very gently up Angel’s arm, but even this soft pressure was enough to break skin, leaving a thin, thin red line in its wake. The dancer took in a shuddering breath but tried his best to keep still, watching as Alastor ran his tongue along the wound, then sat up to kiss him again. Despite tasting his own blood, he participated as actively as before, even teasing a soft hum of pleasure from Alastor’s lips as well. He couldn’t help himself; everything about this moment was so strangely familiar yet new, so expected but not, and he found his feelings about it weren’t all the same as usual.

When the kiss ended, he slowly, lazily cut an X into Angel’s right shoulder, enjoying the way he shivered from the sensation. “It hurts,” the dancer whispered, so soft as to be almost inaudible. Still, his tone was unmistakable.

“And you like that?”

Again, he flushed slightly, and it wasn’t until Alastor held his chin and forced him to look up that he answered. “Yeah,” he confessed, his gaze shifting between the Radio Demon’s eyes and his lips. “Are you…actually gonna fuck me, or are you just gonna hurt me all night?”

Alastor recoiled slightly. At no point during all this had he seriously considered going through with anything sexual. He was there to satisfy a craving, certainly, but not that sort. This was a game, a farce, nothing but a way of extending his devious enjoyment of his victim’s pain. So what was it in him that wanted to say yes, to pin Angel down against the bed and make him scream in a different way?

“Didn’t you say there were no rules?” he prompted, trying to brush those thoughts away and focus.

“Sure. It’s just…now I’m all worked up.” Looking up to meet his eyes, Angel admitted softly, “So I want it.”

Every moment this went on, every moment that Alastor enjoyed the pain he was inflicting and the moans that came with it—knowing the pleasure was mutual and that Angel wanted it too—served to further cloud his mind about exactly what he was doing. This wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable. It wasn’t supposed to be something his victim wanted more of. And worse yet, he wasn’t supposed to like fulfilling their wishes. It was meant to be him taking satisfaction in the suffering of another. Something about this night had thoroughly thrown off that formula.

Trying to move past it and away from all those confusing should-be’s, he sat up slightly and dragged the knife to the juncture of Angel’s neck and shoulder instead, cutting in slightly and watching the dancer—no, his victim—flinch. “H-hey, not there,” Angel finally protested, trying to move away but more or less trapped against the bed by Alastor’s body. “Anywhere below there’s okay, but—”

“Oh, but I thought you liked this, cher,” Alastor insisted, trying to find his way back to the cold and detached tormentor he typically embodied in these moments. His blade moved higher still, closer to Angel’s throat, and he relished the more panicked squirming of his prey’s body.

“I’m serious.” Angel’s voice quavered with nervous fear as he tried to draw away. “Alastor. Stop it.”

“What, does this cost extra?” the Radio Demon chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay whatever you like.” The tip of his knife came to rest just under Angel’s chin, where his pulse was visibly pounding, and he stretched his head as far away as possible. This would be the easiest solution to the confusion that had come with this night. Just end it quickly. Cut right here, only an inch or two, and watch his life spill onto the sheets. No more questions. No more doubt. Just enjoy it for what it is and then on to the next.

“Look, if you’re trying to scare me, it’s working. I get it, okay? You win. Just stop.” The discomfort in his voice was frustrating, in a way. He’d been responding so positively all night, yet now was the moment he faltered? It was much easier to believe that Angel was doing something wrong than that Alastor’s change in behavior had frightened him. As Alastor pressed down on the knife, ready and willing to put all this behind him, Angel snarled and coiled up his legs. “I said, get off!”

His feet planted against Alastor’s chest and kicked, hard, much harder than expected, forcing the Radio Demon to stumble backward off the bed. When he managed to right himself, he realized Angel Dust had sprouted a third set of arms and was trying to use them to unbind his others. There was fear visible in his eyes, but more than that, there was anger. Good. He was indignant, willing to fight. Good. It began with a dance. It should end with a dance.

“Who’s the one playing hard to get now, cher?” Alastor asked with a wicked grin, pouncing on the bed to pin his playmate down again. This part, he could do without thinking, by reflex, which made it much simpler. As he tried to plunge his knife into Angel’s chest, however, the dancer twisted away at the last moment and the blade was buried in the mattress instead.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Angel hissed, still struggling to free his arms.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t been enjoying my attention, chéri. Now hold still so I can give you more.” Grabbing up his knife again, he started to attack—but Angel was ready this time and delivered a surprisingly solid kick to his jaw. Apparently, those boots were more functional than they looked. Even as Angel finally got his hands free, Alastor managed to recover and force him down on his back again.

Then something unexpected happened. After a moment of futile struggling and realizing he wasn’t strong enough to break free, Angel met Alastor’s eyes for the briefest moment, then sat up and kissed him again. This reaction came by reflex as well, and he found himself delving deeper into the kiss, as close to ‘turned on’ as he’d ever been before. Angel shoved at his shoulders, rolling them over as one so he was kneeling over Alastor’s hips.

Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible turn to take, Alastor supposed as his hands slid up the dancer’s thighs again. Maybe he could be satisfied with a different form of pleasure, as long as Angel was willing to—

He broke off the kiss with a gasp at the feeling of cold metal against his throat. Angel remained close, still panting against his lips, but his eyes had turned cold. He had apparently retrieved the weapon Alastor had absentmindedly discarded while they kissed, and he now held it firmly to the Radio Demon’s neck.

“Get your hands off me,” he growled softly, and Alastor obeyed without a word.

Somehow, he found himself at a loss. Maybe he was disappointed in himself for being distracted so easily. Maybe he was subdued by the warmth of Angel’s body or the sight of him—still bleeding, flushed, panting hard—or the knife held to his jugular. Whatever the reason, the fight had left him altogether and he was now just a bit bemused.

“Now fuckin’ stay there,” Angel ordered. He shoved away to get to his feet, keeping his eyes on Alastor and a tight grip on the knife. While the Radio Demon watched, he stepped back toward the table where Alastor’s coat had been discarded, then rooted through it for a moment to find (of course) his wallet. It was almost disappointing to see him back away to retrieve his own jacket and purse, then head for the door.

Was that it? All this excitement, then he just took his payment and left? Was this how most sex workers felt about their own encounters? And why didn’t Alastor make more of an effort to stop him? Was he an Overlord or wasn’t he? If he’d tried, he could have easily overpowered the slender Angel Dust, regardless of whether he had two hands or ten. Yet there he lay, on his back, on the bed, watching his would-be victim shrug his jacket back on and walk to the door.

“Guess you couldn’t keep up after all,” Angel sighed, standing in the doorway and combing mussed hair out of his eyes with his free hand. “Too bad; I was havin’ fun there for a minute. See ya around, Al.” With this, he flung the knife expertly across the room to stick into the mattress between Alastor’s legs. Was it a trick of the light, or was he actually smirking as he left the room and pulled the door shut behind him?

Alastor let his head drop back against the bed. Well. That certainly was an experience. It was the first time in his long and colorful career that any victim had successfully escaped him. There were those who fought, perhaps, but none who had ever won. Yet Angel had caught onto…whatever it was that made this night different from all the others, well and truly ruining Alastor’s chances of regaining control.

He could try again, tonight or some other night. But now, he found, he no longer wanted Angel dead. He still wanted something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. No, Angel had said the word himself. More. Whatever bizarre tango they had just performed, Alastor needed an encore. Next time, he told himself, he would be better prepared. And he had no doubt that Angel would find a way to throw off his rhythm nevertheless.

[babygirlgalitzine]

you don’t have to say you love me (you don’t have to say nothing) 

one

“Ben, love, will you do a shift for me at the Prince Albert?” Kathy asked Ben as he stood at the bottom of the stairs, jacket already on, keys dangling in his hand. “I’m two barmen down.” 

He was stood with a grin on his face, eyes transfixed on the phone he held in his other hand. He typed out what Kathy presumed was a text, somehow completely to his mum’s desperate pleas.

“Ben.” She repeated, more sternly this time. That quickly got his attention. 

“What?” He asked, smiling never once fading as he locked his phone and pocketed it. 

Kathy sighed, “Will you do a shift for me?” She asked again. 

Ben was too excited at the prospect of his day for the grin on his face to waver even remotely. “No can do I’m afraid. Already got plans.” He explained. 

“Bobby’ll do it. Get him out the house for a bit, plus it’s more pocket money for him.”

“What’s got you in a good mood?” Kathy asked as Ben walked into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge and cereal bar from the cupboard. “Or do I not want to know?” 

Ben snorted out a laugh. “Get your mind out the gutter mother, you’re worse than me sometimes! Callum rang last night, if you must know. Asked if I’m free today, I said yeah, so he’s taking me out for the day. Planned it all himself, won’t even give me a clue about what we’re doing.” 

Kathy smiled wholeheartedly. Callum. Of course it was Callum. “You’re lucky to have that man you know?” 

He wraps an arm around his mum, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know.” Ben confirms. “He makes me happy, and I haven’t felt like that around someone for years. I reckon Cal came into my life at just the right time.” 

“You love him.” Kathy enquired. “That’s special.”

Ben smiles, his phone vibrating in his jean pocket. “I don’t – yet. That’ll be him texting me now.” 

Kathy kissed Ben’s cheek, wiping her lipstick stain away from his scrunched up face. “Have fun.” She said. “Tell your Callum I said hello.”

two

In the weeks and months following Ben and Callum sharing their long awaited second kiss, they seemed to be inseparable. Callum would spend days at a time with Ben, at the Beales’ residence, but, feeling that he was outstaying his welcome every single time, he would go back to his flat, followed by Ben, who would then spend days at Callum’s flat. This was something that neither of them ever expected, considering Ben’s past connections and memories with the funeral parlour and connecting flat. Somehow, Ben felt comfortable there. He didn’t feel out of place, or have flashbacks to what seemed like a complete past life that he had. 

Ben sat on the sofa, wrapped up in his grey dressing gown, wearing his glasses. The bedroom door opened, and Callum walked out, wearing a hoodie he had stolen from Ben, his hair flat against his head, freshly washed and devoid of any styling products. Ben smiled up at his boyfriend, holding his hand out for Callum to take as he settled down next to Ben.

“Ordered us some Indian.” Ben said softly, his thumb rubbing over Callum’s knuckles.

Callum smiled at him, leaning forward and taking Ben’s lips in his own, no heat in the embrace, neither of them needing to take it any further. “You’re amazing.” 

“Only food.” Ben shrugged, resting his head on Callum’s shoulder.

The two of them settled down, watching their latest box set, waiting for the flat bell to go, indicating that their food had arrived. When it did eventually go, Ben untangled himself from Callum and walked downstairs. Stuart walked into the communal room as Ben returned, holding a bag filled with boxes in his hand, a couple of cans of alcohol in the other. 

“I’ve left some beer downstairs, couldn’t carry them all at once.” He said, putting the boxes on the table in front of the sofa. 

Callum nodded, pouting his lips as an indication for Ben to kiss him. Ben complied, of course. When Ben pulled away to walk back downstairs, Stuart remained looking at Callum, somewhat frozen in his stare. He hadn’t seen this before. 

“Looks good on you bruv.” Stuart commented, walking over to the fridge to pull his out his own beers. 

“What does?” Callum quizzed, opening up the lids to thre boxes and silently thanking Ben for getting his favourite. 

Stuart grinned, opening his beers. “Being in love.” 

Callum shook his head, stupid, disbelieving grin on his face. “Shut up!” He gasped out, scrunching tissues into a ball and throwing it at his brother as he walked out of the room.

three

When Ben first realised he was gay, he never thought he would be able to have a boyfriend, let alone kiss his boyfriend in front of family. A lot had changed in the years between Ben first realising his sexuality and meeting Callum – changes both good and bad. But his family finally accepting him, calling Callum their family too? That was the best change of all. It made them both finally feel accepted into a world that neither of them thought they ever would be.

Lola was stood in the kitchen, making up Lexi’s packed lunch and putting it in her school bag. It was a routine she in the morning, regardless of who was taking the girl to school that day. Whilst Lexi was upstairs brushing her teeth, Lola would be cutting sandwiches into triangles and wrapping them in foil. This morning was no different, except instead of having the relaxing sounds of morning radio keeping her company, she had Ben and Callum in the living room. The door separating the living room and the kitchen was wide open, allowing her to see and hear everything that was going on. Ben was sat in his jeans and a shirt, having offered to take Lexi to school. Callum, on the other hand, was dressed in his typical suit, only missing his tie. The rest of the house was quiet, Ian and Bobby still sleeping, Kathy having left an hour or so before to open up the café. 

“I need to go!” Callum giggled out – yes, giggled. 

Lola looked through the door to see Ben holding Callum to his lap, Callum with his arms wrapped around Ben’s shoulders, hands clasped at the back of his neck. 

“No, you don’t.” Ben grinned, leaning forward and colliding his lips with his boyfriends. “Have the day off, come and take Lex to school with me. Bet all the mums would fancy you in that suit. Know I do.” 

Callum sighed, shaking his head with a soft smile. “You’re allowed to fancy me.” He said. “Anyway, I can’t just take today off, I’ve got Mr Stanley’s funeral at eleven.” 

He pressed a kiss to Ben’s lips, unclasping his hands to run his fingers through the back of Ben’s hair. He had no idea when he started to do that, but it relaxed Ben in a way he never thought he would be, as though he was completely captivated, under Callum’s spell as he touched him. Ben smiled into the kiss, fingers rubbing around Callum’s hips. When Callum eventually managed to pull himself away, his fingers remained in Ben’s hair for a few short moments after. Ben, in a state of complete and utter bliss, trailed his head forward, in an attempt to kiss Callum again, but he was too late as Callum stood up and started doing his tie up. 

“I’ll text you later, take you out for dinner. And Lex, if that’s okay with you Lo?” He raised his voice slightly at the end. 

Lola poked her head around the door, pretending she hadn’t just witnessed the moment that the boys had just shared. “Yeah, that’s fine with me. See you later!”

Callum winked at Ben, and left for work. Lola moved into the living room, putting Lexi’s reading book in her bag. It was her day to swap it out for a new one, a whole new story that Ben could read for her tonight before she fell asleep. Lola smiled at Ben as he looked out of the window, seeing Callum’s figure walk past. 

“You love him.” She broke the silence. 

Ben’s eyes flashed up to her, soft smile on his face. He didn’t need to say it. She knew. 

“Reckon she’s finished brushing her teeth then?”

four

Ben was working away for a few days, having driven all the way up north to a car convention, hoping to secure some contracts with car dealerships in his plans to expand the Walford car lot. He had wanted Callum to go along with him for the trip, especially because a black tie event was included in the trip, but Callum had work commitments with the funeral home. The dead just didn’t stop dying. 

“He rang yet?” Jay asked as he walked into the funeral parlour, walking over to the filing cabinet and getting a folder out. 

Callum looked at his phone, which was placed on the desk, ready for when he received a message. “Not yet. Said he would the minute he gets settled in the hotel.” 

“Sorry you couldn’t go with him Cal,” Jay sympathised. “It’s just chocka here, I wouldn’t have been able to do everything alone.” 

“No, no, it’s fine! Ben was annoyed when I first told him, but I promised him a weekend away, just us, in a couple of weeks.” Callum explained. 

Jay smiled, looking down at his feet for a moment. “You’re good for him y’know?” He asked. “Between being with you and having Lexi back in his life, I’ve never seen him so settled.”

Callum nodded, smiling, understood what Jay was saying. He’d been witness to it himself, fondly remembering the days when Ben would be annoying him, running about and doing sketchy jobs, making way to obvious remarks about Callum’s hidden sexuality that even he was surprised people didn’t catch onto. Whilst Callum was remembering this, his phone buzzed. 

I’m here now, don’t miss me too much. Ring you later xx

“He’s there now.” Callum announced, sending a quick text back. 

When he had finished texting, he put his phone back on the desk, unlocked. Jay didn’t mean to, but he looked over at it, smiling at Callum’s wallpaper. It was a picture of him and Ben, both of them in bed together, with huge grins across their faces. Ben had his glasses on, both of them with flat hair, and Jay guessed that they had both just woken up. Callum’s nose was pressed against Ben’s cheek, a look of something in his eyes, Ben with his eyes scrunched closed, mid laugh. Callum was also looking at his wallpaper, his eyes illuminated, tears almost forming in his eyes. 

“Callum mate,” Jay started, “you’re in love.” 

Callum shook his head slightly, trying to prove Jay wrong, maybe even convince himself. Not yet, he thought, can’t be in love yet.

five

Lexi loved having four parents. Some people may think it might not have worked, having all her mum, dad, Jay and Callum being the parental figures in her life, but she thrived with it. Oftentimes, Lexi would spend evenings with her dad and Callum over at Callum’s flat, getting her out the way of the comings and goings of the Beales’, especially when Jay had taken Lola out for date night. Like tonight. Jay had booked for him and Lola to go and watch a new film, getting the late showing tickets. He had asked if it was okay for Ben and Callum to have Lexi for the night, and of course, they both agreed. Ben had brought Lexi around after school, Ben carrying her overnight bag as Lexi held on tightly to her favourite teddies, surmising that she couldn’t only bring one, because then the others would feel lonely. 

“Cal, I got my board games!” she shouted as Ben pushed open the flat door for her. 

Callum grinned, picking her up and spinning her around as she cuddled him. “All ready for me to thrash you and daddy then?” 

“Never!” she giggled, throwing her head back. “What are we having to eat?”

“Pizza?” Ben quizzed, looking between his daughter and his boyfriend to see if that was fine. When they both nodded, he opened his phone to order their favourites. 

“Snakes and Ladders first?” Callum asked, getting the box out and setting it up on the desk for them. Lexi jumped up onto a chair, sitting patiently as Callum finished sorting the board game out. 

Ben walked over to them, resting his hand on Callum’s shoulder. “It’ll be about 20 minutes.” Ben confirmed. “That okay with you princess?”

“Yes daddy!” Lexi grinned. 

All three of them sat down, playing Snakes and Ladders as they waited for their pizza to be delivered. It’s something they did often, various other members of families sometimes joining in. Lexi was very competitive when it came to board games, which was a trait she had definitely gained from both her mother and father, Callum quickly learned. 

“I win!” Lexi shouted, as the game reached its conclusion. 

Callum sat back with a smirk on his face, admiring how happy she was to have beat them. Ben on the other hand, lived up to his competitive nature and, aghast, complained. “You cheated!” 

“How do you cheat at Snakes and Ladders?” Callum asked, his hand on the back of Ben’s neck, playing with the short hair that is situated there. 

“I know for a fact she didn’t roll a six on that dice.” Ben explained. 

Callum pressed a kiss to Ben’s cheek. “Look how happy she is though.” He whispered, closing his sentence with another short peck to the skin. 

“Don’t care.” Ben pouted. Callum leaned forward and kissed Ben’s lips softly. “Pizza’s here.” 

Ben ran downstairs to get the pizzas for them as Callum poured Lexi some orange juice and grabbed him and Ben some beer. 

“Cheers babe.” Ben said as Callum put the alcohol down in front of him, opening up the pizza boxes as Lexi waited impatiently to get the first slice. 

The three of them sat in a comfortable silence as they ate, the television providing their soundtrack of the evening. Lexi was placed in between both Ben and Callum, and as she finished swallowing her third slice. “Daddy?” she said, like she was asking a question.

“Yeah baby?” he asked, wiping his fingers clean of grease for the umpteenth time.

“You know how mummy and Uncle Jay love each other?” She enquired.

Ben nodded in response, not knowing where this was heading. 

“Do you and Callum love each other too?” Lexi innocently asked. 

Callum, not expecting that question to come out of the little girls mouth at all, choked on his food, completely shocked. Ben looked at Callum, whispering out a “You okay?”, to which Callum nodded. 

“Me and Callum like each other a lot, yeah. Like mummy and Uncle Jay.” Ben explained, not saying the other ‘L word’. “Is that okay princess?” 

Lexi nodded, accepting that answer, before picking up another slice. 

+ one 

They had recently decided to start doing monthly date nights, providing some solitude for the pair of them. It was half to make up for how long it took for them to finally go on their first official date that worked out, half because they barely got any alone time, what with them both sharing houses with other people. By setting a date night each month, it allowed for them to go out for the evening, or kick others out of the house for a few hours, bribing them with money for the Vic. 

Ben walked into Callum’s flat, undoing his coat and shrugging it off his shoulders. Callum was in the kitchen, having texted Ben to say he was cooking for their date night. He had kicked Stuart out for the night, and so they were free to spend alone time together. Ben walked over to Callum, wrapping his arms around Callum’s waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Smells amazing.” Ben admired, laying his head on Callum’s back, smiling when he started to hear Callum’s heart beating. 

“Making your favourite.” Callum said. “Spag bol.” 

Ben sighed gently. 

Callum twisted under Ben’s hold, facing him for the first time. “Gimme a kiss.” Callum commanded softly, hooking his finger under Ben’s chin, tilting it upwards. Ben grinned, pressing his lips to Callum’s, their bodies intertwining.  

Ben pulled away with a sigh, his arms still wrapped around Callum, Callum’s arms still wrapped around him. They were in such close proximity with one another, Ben couldn’t help but notice Callum’s features. How he had freckles that weren’t usually obvious; how the red of his lips suddenly seemed more vibrant after they had shared a kiss; how when Callum started blushing, it was usually his ears that went red first; how blue his eyes are, but also with flecks of green and gold mixed in. He spoke without realising what he was about to say. 

“I love you.” 

It’s such a simple sentence, but it’s a statement with an incredibly large impact. It changed lives. 

Callum’s grasp on Ben felt weaker now, his ears flushing red, and then his cheeks quickly following, pink spreading across his skin. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Ben ranted out as he made an attempted to fill the void left by what he hoped would be filled with Callum saying it back. “I’m just being stupid.”

Suddenly, Callum’s eyes flickered down to Ben’s open lips, quickly pushing his lips to fit between Ben’s. It was a passionate embrace, one that just worked, especially after what Ben had just admitted. Callum was sure he felt a tear drop from Ben’s closed eyes, colliding where their skin pressed together. 

When they eventually pulled apart, Callum cupped Ben’s face with his hands as he spoke. “You’re not stupid.” He said. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Y’know, that was the first time someone said that to me and I can truly feel it back. I love you Ben Mitchell, so much.”

[jace-the-writer-guy]

Military Grade

///Buckle down for a long story! This is something fun I decided to do for the Karmine family, which includes some new toys for three of the members and a post-huntsman job possibility for Auron. A bit more info will be at the end. Also, I couldn't put it under a "read more" thing because it kept messing up on me because of the pictures I included in it.///

Word count: 3,379

It had been a year since the group of bandits known as Grimmhammer had been destroyed and their remaining members scattered around the world, and since their leader had stabbed Ebony in the back. The leader, the man known as Locke, was dead and their efforts in creating abominations of Grimm for their own personal gain were stomped into the dirt. Since then, the Rangers had worked on destroying the last remaining bases and labs of the bandit group one by one and were close to wiping them all out.

A loud gunshot was heard as Auron aimed down the sights of Last Call, taking down the last of the bandits that were in the base he and two of his Ranger friends had assaulted. It was a base deep in one of Anima's snowy, northern forests. The snow lightly fell on the base the bandits had set up around what looked to be an old garage they had fixed up to house their supplies and most likely weapons. "I think that's the last bastard," Auron said into his earpiece to his friends, "Let's regroup near the garage."

"Sounds good." A feminine voice replied.

"I'm going to scout around the area a bit more for any stragglers," Another, male voice said, "I'll meet up with you both soon."

Auron took the magazine out of Last Call and reloaded a few shells into it to top it off, and then he put it back in the gun. Soon after, as if out of thin air, one of the Rangers appeared next to him. She stood at five feet and seven inches tall with a lithe and athletic body, lightly tanned skin, medium-length dark red hair, and a pair of red fox ears on her head that were in two custom pockets in her hood. She took her hood off and revealed her striking violet eyes, and the grey strands in her hair that showed her age along with the very shallow crow's feet at the corner's of her eyes.

"Any injuries, Auron?" She asked the gunslinger.

Auron smirked. "Now Emowyn, you know these people can't do shit to us."

The faunus called Emowyn chuckled at that. "True enough. And you know I have to make sure because Shyla would kill me and Erron if you got hurt."

Auron couldn't help but laugh and he nodded. "That's fair too."

"Want to search around before we gather up their weapons?"

"Sounds good to me. I'm curious on what's in their garage there."

Auron and Emowyn walked forward toward the garage as Auron put Last Call on his back, and pulled Smoke & Preacher from their holsters. He stepped up to the large metal door and aimed his revolvers, and then he used his semblance to raise multiple dust metal poles from the ground under the door to raise it up and open it. Emowyn had her longbow, named Firefly, out now and had an arrow drawn back as the door raised in case there was any opposition from any surviving bandits, but they found none initially. In their place however were three militarized vehicles. One was a medium-sized humvee that was painted matte black with deep-treaded tires, and flat-faced, square windshields. And along with that, the humvee had light doors with canvas covering them on the outsides with multiple pouches for different means, along with a black canvas roof that could be removed and stored. Next to it on its left side was another humvee but it looked more like a truck and was the same color as the other. It only had two doors while the back had been modified to have a transport bed for both small bits of cargo and people as well with sideboards included. It had the same type of doors as the other humvee did, and on the back of the cab there looked to be a rack for a gun to be sat over the top half of the rear window. Both humvees each had a winch in the front bumper.

///The first humvee is modeled mainly after a standard, classic US military humvee like in the first picture, and the other is modeled mainly like the one in the second picture. The overall design on the outsides of the two are like in the third picture, especially around the hood and the frame around the windshields. The doors for both are like the jeep's in the fourth picture. The interior of the first humvee looks like in the fifth picture, and the interior of the other looks like in the sixth picture except with a wall behind the seats. Lastly, both humvees have a winch in the front bumper like in the last picture.///

The second vehicle was much larger and looked to be more of a transport vehicle for both more of the bandits themselves and cargo as evidenced by the eight foot wide frame and body, and the ten foot long, eight and a half foot wide bed. It was matte black as well with tinted windows, and two-foot-high sideboards consisting of multiple thick, dark wooden planks, on the sides of the bed but they were let down to cover the two rear wheels. The truck had a snorkel that reached the height of the cab on the side of the engine bay above the front-right wheel, and it had the exhaust situated just behind the snorkel. It was a huge six-by-six truck, and Auron was surprised to see that Grimmhammer still had a vehicle like that after their forces had been scattered and destroyed. It was definitely a modified version of one of the trucks that transported the miners from place to place up in Mantle. Like the humvees, the truck had a winch on the front bumper but it was larger than the others. On its other side was a fairly large, dual-axle trailer that was the same side as the bed of the truck as well.

///And this is what the larger truck looks like. It's based and basically is just like the truck in the first picture here, a Military M923A2 6x6 Crew Cab truck and has the same sideboards for the bed as well. The snorkel exhaust, and winch are like in the second picture and situated in the same way. The interior in the front is like in the third picture, but with a video screen in the console to the right of the steering wheel. The trailer is like in the fourth picture.///

Auron whistled a bit and walked around the vehicles toward their backs, still ready for any bandit to jump out at him from the shadows the lights had casted in the garage. After searching around for several moments, neither Auron nor Emowyn could find any hiding bandits, so they began to relax as Auron holstered his revolvers. Emowyn could see that Auron was immensely interested in the three vehicles as he was walking around them and checking them out very closely. First, he looked around and inside the first humvee and inspected every small detail of it, and found the key was in the ignition. 

"Hmm, this one's got a comms radio. If I could hazard a guess with the fancy dashboard an' shit in here, I'd say this was more of a scout vehicle," Auron remarked, "Probably what they used to find this place so deep in a snowy forest."

"And this one is definitely more for transport," Erron said at the other humvee, "It's very simple on the inside."

Auron jolted at the sound of his voice and hit his head on the roof of the one he was inspecting. "Ow, dammit!"

Erron laughed and shook his head. "There were no more bandits around." He was six feet in height and had an athletic body, along with short, jet-black hair with small bits of grey throughout. His eyes were a deep red color, and his skin was slightly tanned from his time out under the sun for the majority of his life as a Ranger. Strapped across his back was a rather simple, silenced combat rifle he called Frostbite.

"You couldn't have warned me you was comin' in?" Auron asked him, looking at the ranger as he sat down in the humble's driver's seat.

"Rangers hardly ever announce their presence, you know that."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Auron shook his head at that, rubbing his head a bit, "One o' these days, I'm shootin' you. You're gettin' to be about like Preacher."

"Now that's going a bit far, Auron."

Auron ignored hum and began to look around the interior of the humvee some more, and saw the release for the hood and he pulled it, and the hood popped up a bit near the windshield. He got out of the humvee and opened the hood up fully to check it out, and he noticed a large cap near the battery. He lifted the cap off and revealed a large, cylindrical fire dust crystal with a handle on the top of it, and he took it out to inspect it. "Huh, this one's been modified to take crystals instead o' fuel. I'm assumin' the other humvee has the same."

Erron checked the engine of the transport humvee soon after and saw different. "This one has two. I think that's probably to let it last longer on cargo runs."

"I'm noticing the same here," Emowyn replied as she herself was looking over the cargo truck's engine, "This one's engine is almost twice the size of your truck's, Auron. It takes three crystals."

Auron put the crystal back in the slot and put the cap back on, and he hummed. "Hell, that thing's fuckin' powerful then. Mine takes two. Hmmm…"

"Seems like it. And I checked the back too and it looks like the bed can tip back like your truck's can."

Auron went from the humvee over to the truck, and he climbed up onto the steps on the side, opened the door, and looked inside to see what the interior held. "A rear view camera, air conditionin', a radio, a comms radio, an' a lever for the bed I'm guessin'…" He climbed further in and looked in the back seats to see a long bench that could easily fit three people. He then sat himself in the driver's seat and let himself relax in its surprising comfort, "Hey guys…"

Emowyn slammed the hood of the truck shut and looked at him. She could see a certain look in his eyes and it made her smirk a bit. "What is it?"

Auron gave her a grin. "I'm keepin' this stuff."

The veteran Ranger gave a laugh. "Of course. This truck has some rolled up canvas in the back to cover cargo too. Some poles can be pulled out of the sideboards for it."

"Same for this one over here." Erron remarked from the one he was checking out.

"This keeps gettin' better an' better," Auron said, his grin widening, "I'm gettin' something like that set up for mine too. I just gotta get some canvas for it. I think I know just what to do with all o' these. That trailer's mine too now. Em, you wanna drive one o' the humvees out when we go?"

"Sure," Emowyn replied, "How are we getting them all out?"

"I'm gonna winch the other humvee to my truck," Auron laughed a bit, "This ain't somethin' I expected today."

X x X x X x X

Two months passed by after the raid on the Grimmhammer base. Auron and the two Rangers had recovered a very good amount of weapons, dust, and ammunition from the base that Auron was able to sell to S&S Munitions for a profit, and of course kept the humvees and the truck for himself. He had titles drawn up for them all and put the truck under his name, and the four-door humvee under Shyla's, and he had the humvee be repainted to a dark, olive green color. He had driven the cargo truck around a good amount in since the raid, and he loved it. It was a huge truck but easy to drive even if it takes up a lot of space. He had gotten used to changing gears for it fairly quickly and had decided to always keep the bed uncovered and the sideboards down as well until he needed them up.

"Oh, I love it!" Shyla exclaimed when she first laid eyes on the humvee when Auron had uncovered it from a large tarp in front of the house. He had towed it back to the house with his new truck with the tarp covering it so she wouldn't know exactly what it was until it was uncovered.

"I'm glad to hear it," Auron said with a grin, his arm around her shoulders as he led her around it, "I got a holster for a rifle on the side here, right outside the driver's side door an' I had a rack put inside between the front seats goin' all the way back for a shotgun too. I figured you might need somethin' like this in case you needed to go out if I'm not here. I think it's perfect for my weapon designin' queen."

"Is it automatic or manual?" Shyla asked curiously.

"It's automatic. I had it changed to be easier on you. Wanna take it for a spin?"

"Ummm, of course I do!" Shyla replied, and Auron handed her the key. She jumped into him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and she gave him a kiss on the lips, "Thank you, Aure!"

Auron gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Have fun, dear. I love you too."

Shyla took the key and smiled happily at Auron, and she got in the humvee. She turned the key and the engine fired right up, and she couldn't help but giggle in excitement before she slowly drove off. For Shyla, it felt a bit bumpy for her as she drove the humvee slowly across the field in front of their home. She didn't mind any bumpiness at all though. It actually made it more enjoyable and satisfying in a way. Plus, she had always kind of wanted a military vehicle like this but was never able to buy one for herself past other things and now she had one and she really did love it.

Back near the house, April slowly walked around her father's new truck with him. "Damn, dad. This thing looks like a beast."

"Definitely feels like it too," Auron remarked, a grin still on his face, "You definitely feel pretty powerful drivin' it. People are less inclined to honk at ya."

April laughed at that. "I'd imagine so."

Auron reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the other humvee he had hidden in the garage. "Come to the garage. I got somethin' to show ya."

April looked at him curiously for a moment. "Alright, sure."

Auron led his youngest daughter past the cargo truck and around the house toward the garage he had built next to the workshops. "Y'know, after I retire from bein' a Huntsman, I might start a little job an' haul stuff for people."

"Oh dang, seriously?" April replied as they walked past the graves of Auron's parents, and April's grandparents, "That sounds like it would be fun."

"Yup. I got dad's truck an' trailer for general stuff, an' my new one for the bigger stuff," Auron said and stroked his beard a bit, "I think that'd be great to do."

"I say go for it. Maybe that could be a side job for me an' Holly too."

"Now that's a good idea too," They reached the garage fairly quickly and Auron began to grin once more, "I think what's in here is gonna help out a lot with that for you."

Auron handed April the key he had gotten out of his pocket, and she took it in her fingers and stared at it. "Huh?"

"I know ya love Blazer an' everything, but…" Auron slid one of the doors open, and then he did the same with the other door and the lights came on inside automatically, "I think that this is perfect for you."

April's eyes laid upon the sight of the other humvee that Auron had taken from the bandits, except it had been changed a bit. The humvee itself was a metallic dark red color instead of matte black, and the sideboards had been changed to be made of a wood that had been stained a red color to match the humvee. Over the rear wheels were armor plates much like the ones on Holly's truck to protect them. Strapped to the left side of the bed was a roll of canvas that would go over the bed of the humvee to protect its cargo from the elements. On the outside of the driver's side door was a sheath near the front of it that was obviously for Jacknife.

"Oh, here's this too," Auron said and took a piece of paper from his pocket and he handed it to her, "It's the title for it. All yours, Red."

April looked between the key, the title, and the humvee over and over for several moments before she could even think of anything to say. "So… this is mine?"

Auron grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "It's yours. I got it from that raid too. What do ya think?"

"I think I'm gonna need to drive this thing!" April exclaimed and walked over to the driver's side, "Holy fuck… Automatic or manual?"

"I had that get an automatic transmission too. I figure you'd appreciate that since you're used to Blazer bein' automatic. It takes two big fire dust crystals for power  like dad's an' Holly's does."

"Sweet! I wouldn't mind learnin' a manual thing, but I'm glad you did that with this."

Auron laughed at that. "You can drive my new truck around an' learn sometime if you want. Hell, my original plan was to give that thing to ya."

"That woulda been badass, but I don't think that thing would fit in a parkin' spot at Beacon," April remarked, and she started to grin widely as it set in her mind that she had a new vehicle, "Blazer can fit in the back, right?"

Auron nodded in response. "It can. It's got ramps you can pull out from the back. I also got you a trailer for it that can have a canvas cover on it like the humvee. You can do what you want with it. It can carry Blazer too."

"Thanks, dad!" April said and went over to hug her father, "This is awesome! I can't wait to see the look on Star's face when I pick her up later!"

Auron laughed and patted her back. "That'll be great. You can even put Jacknife in the sheath on the door, an' you can put Jackhammer on the rack inside."

"And I saw a holster for Bear Claw under the dash behind the steerin' wheel," April said, her grin just growing across her face, "I think I'm gonna love this."

"I don't expect you to ignore Blazer though, especially after you put so much work into it."

"Oh hell no, that's still my baby. I'm just givin' it some breaks now."

"I thought so."

///Alright, so Humvees are still a thing for this universe in my eyes! In the real world, Humvees are "High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (HMMWV)" , which is called Humvee by pretty much anyone. They just have a bit of a different look in this universe.

I hope you all enjoyed this story, because it's canon that the Karmine family now have these trucks! Have a nice day/night!///

[rorykillmore]

okay this is. well. a LATE birthday fic for my friend jemi, who does not have a personal tumblr atm, but i’m sticking it here because this is where i file all my fics at this point, and because it’s also a tiny bit of a partial co-present for @xivuuarath too! 

jemi, one of the things i’ve loved most about this past year is getting the chance to write with you again and develop these new and wonderful and crazy cross-fandom dynamics just the way we used to. it’ll always mean a lot to me to be able to write with you, and i really hope i’ve done everyone in this fic justice because i cannot tell you what a DELIGHT forming this disaster of a group dynamic/eventual found family with you and storm has been!!! i can’t wait to develop them more together, but for now, this particular fic is set a little ways in the hypothetical future once they’ve all gotten to know each other a little more, and after villanelle has had... SOME kind of similar encounter with her family to the one she just had in canon. tldr: her mom sucks, she’s dead now, and villanelle ran off after burning her house down.

anyway, yeah, ENJOY!

They all look like idiots, and normally, Villanelle would delete any photo that made her look like an idiot without a second thought. But there is something kind of nice about it this time.

Villanelle supposes that maybe it’s a little unfair to blame Konstantin for the fact that her birth family turned out to be shit.

(Okay, not all of them were shit, but it is easier to pretend that they were and not that the few days she spent with them were the happiest she’s ever been in her whole life.)

Anyway, while it’s not technically his fault, he is the one who told her they were alive, and the last thing she wants right now is to go back and tell him exactly how catastrophically things did not work out.  He is no longer her handler anyway. She has to report back to Knock Out.

(Actually, she has not been on a mission recently, she has nothing to report, and Knock Out would probably not even notice if she didn’t contact him for several more days, but... Villanelle will just make up a reason to talk to him, then. He doesn’t have to know she’s wasting his time just because he makes her feel a little better.)

So she’s surprised when she texts him (or his comm frequency, however it works with Cybertronians) and gets a message back that he’s already waiting for her at Mistoffelees’.

That’s how Villanelle thinks of the house, absurdly, as belonging to Mistoffelees and Victoria -- namely because by know she knows them much better than she knows their people. Somehow, amidst the chaos of the past several days, Villanelle had entirely forgotten she’d agreed to cat-sit again (less for any pragmatic reason this time and more because she hadn’t had anything better to do, before the issue of her family had cropped up) starting this evening. She’d also forgotten that they’d all planned another marathon session of Kitchen Nightmares, and for some reason... all of this rattles her.

For some reason, when she arrives and walks up the driveway and finds Knock Out parked waiting for her, and Misto and Tugger settled side by side on the fence, she gets a strange little lump in her throat that she can’t explain.

“Finally,” Tugger complains the minute he sees her. “If any of us actually had thumbs, we may well have considered starting without you.”

“Excuse me,” Knock Out is quick to protest. “Just because it’s not exactly strategic for me to transform in the middle of a human neighborhood doesn’t mean you get to lump me in with you furballs.”

Mistoffelees rolls his eyes in an unnervingly human gesture that Villanelle is only just starting to get used to.  “I’m sure he meant ‘if any of us actually had thumbs that we could conveniently use without causing hysteria in this precise moment.’ Didn’t you, Tug?”

“Sure, darling,” Tugger says, not sounding very sincere at all.

Villanelle comes to a slow halt beside Knock Out’s alt mode, trying to bask in their familiar banter, trying to make it feel just the same as her family’s home-y sense of chaos did. It doesn’t quite work. But it does make her want... something.

“We should take a road trip!” Villanelle announces suddenly, entirely out of nowhere and without thinking about it.  Mistoffelees and Tugger turn nonplussed looks on her, and she can practically feel Knock Out figuratively side-eyeing her, and for a second she worries that they’ve noticed something’s wrong. 

But the silence only lasts for a beat before Knock Out scoffs,  “What, now? And where, exactly, were you thinking of going?”

Villanelle shrugs, undeterred by their skepticism.  “Anywhere. We could just... drive.”

“In that?” Tugger stares wide-eyed into Knock Out’s windows, and then very quickly clears his throat.  “Sorry. In him?”

“We could bring Victoria too,” Villanelle says, appealing to Misto. “Is she home?”

Mistoffelees flicks an ear uncertainly.  “She’s out at the junkyard this evening. And anyway, Villanelle, we can’t exactly up and disappear without giving the others cause for alarm --”

“So go tell them! We can wait here.  It would only be for, like, a couple of days, and your humans will not even notice since they’re not due back ‘til next week.”

“Not to agree with Tugger, but I’m still stuck at the part where I have to lug them around and get cat fur all over my interior,” Knock Out quips, rather casually considering the chaos unfolding around him. “...Not to mention, we don’t exactly have clearance for this.”

“We don’t have an assignment either,” Villanelle points out. “Do they really care what we do in our own time?”

Knock Out seems too surprised to answer, maybe because this is the first time outside their missions and their little casual reality television get-togethers that Villanelle has ever expressed such an interest in spending time together.

The cats are almost as baffled. Tugger and Misto exchange a look that Villanelle can’t quite read, before Mistoffelees settles his attention back on her.  “This is all a bit... sudden,” he starts, and it’s the fact that he sounds almost gentle that makes something in Villanelle prickle up again. Is her behavior so erratic and concerning that she’s making them feel sorry for her?

“Fine,” she cuts in, changing tracks suddenly.  “Fine! Never mind. I will take one on my own. See you all in a couple of days --”

“Er, hold on.” Knock Out recovers enough to stop her. “If you’re going to do this anyway, I might as well tag along and see that you don’t do anything careless. Otherwise I’ll have nothing to do but drive around London while you go off and have all the fun.”

Villanelle stops in her tracks.  “Do you want me to be careful, or do you want me to have fun?”

“...Is that supposed to be a trick question?”

She shrugs, still recovering her pride and wondering if she should brush him off just on principle because of it. Deep down, though, Villanelle doesn’t want to, and so instead she looks back at the cats where they’re still settled together on the fence.

On the fence. Heh. Like a metaphor.

“I think you two could use the vacation,” she tells them casually.  “Have you ever actually been on a honeymoon?”

“A what?” Mistoffelees asks as Tugger sweeps his feathery tail around him. Villanelle has started to get used to the easy affection they share between them, but it hasn’t yet ceased to give her a pang of something indecipherable each time.

“A honeymoon,” she says.  “It is something two people do when they get m -- when they love each other and want to be together forever. They go off and take a trip and kind of... celebrate their relationship.”

Tugger tilts his head ever so slightly to one side.  “And is it customary for them to bring their friends along?”

Villanelle glances at Knock Out, but if he knows anything about this particular Earth custom, he stays silent for once.  So she shrugs.  “Sure. That way it is like a party, you know?”

“I daresay neither of us do.”  Mistoffelees turns so he can meet his mate’s gaze.  Villanelle expect Tugger to have a very decisive opinion on all of this, and to state it very loudly, because that’s just how Tugger is.  So it surprises her when instead, he returns Mistoffelee’s look quietly - almost gently - and waits for his verdict.

“Is it really only going to be for a couple of days?” Mistoffelees asks cautiously at length.  Villanelle grins despite herself.

--

It is roughly a five hour drive between London and Paris, which is a bit of a pain in the ass when the taking the train shaves about half of that off, but for once Villanelle is trying to be objective about how she is probably the least inconvenienced person in this situation. The only reason Misto and Tugger aren’t stuffed in the trunk right now is because she offered to buy them cat carriers to travel in instead, and when the cats vetoed that option, she’d reluctantly promised Knock Out that she’d be the one vacuuming his back seat instead.

Even with that compromise made, though, five hours is a long time to spend in a car with someone. Especially a sentient car. They’ve already gone through the motions of arguing about the radio - a pointless endeavor, given that Knock Out is the one who controls it - and then Villanelle had tried to teach them how to play a couple of road trip games ( “Fuck, Marry, Kill” had gone the most disastrously).

Finally, Mistoffelees asks, “Was it really necessary to come so far for this... other city you described? I don’t see how it can be all that much different from London.”

He sounds almost uncomfortable, and for the first time Villanelle wonders whether he or Tugger have ever been this far from home before -- they are cats, even if they are special ones.

“Paris is nothing like London,” Villanelle insists, though she knows that alone might not mean much to him.  “-- It is the most beautiful city in the world. And if you’re in love, you have to go at least once.”

“I never figured you for the sentimental type,” Knock Out quips dryly.

"Maybe she means if you’re in love with yourself,” Misto offers.  “I suppose that describes at least three out of four of us, so --”

He breaks off at Tugger’s feigned indignant gasp and even-more-feigned swat, laughing, and Villanelle gives both of them a pointed look through the rearview mirror.

They are just made for Paris, these two. Later, they’re going to have to admit that she was right.

Knock Out sighs audibly, distracting her from her thoughts.  “You know. You really do owe me for this.”

--

Even Knock Out can’t find too much to complain about once they reach the city proper, though. Villanelle beams smugly when he admits that there’s a certain classiness about it all “as far as cities on this mudball go”, and he rolls his windows down a little so that Misto and Tugger can better appreciate the scents and sounds.

“It’s not home,” Tugger drawls, enjoying the way the wind buffets the mane of fur around his neck.  “But it’s not half bad.”

It’s home to Villanelle, though, or -- the closest thing she’s ever had to one, besides the one she just burnt to ashes. She takes them past the street where her old apartment used to be, just for nostalgia’s sake.

“The only thing about Paris is, it’s really more of a walking city,”  Villanelle tells them at length.  “Hey Knock Out -- you don’t have some kind of boat mode, do you?”

“A boat?” Knock Out echoes scathingly.  “What exactly do you take me for?”

“Okay, so, the river tour is out. But I can show you around even better from here. Just follow my lead.”

Mistoffelees leans languidly against Tugger as they share the open window, and sighs.  “What could possibly go wrong.”

To Villanelle’s credit, she does give a hell of a tour, taking them past the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe. Then they make a stop at the Pont Neuf bridge, where Villanelle positions the very bemused cats on the railing so that she can take their picture against the backdrop of the Seine.

“I can’t say I really understand the purpose of this,” Misto says for about the third time, then flattens his ears when Villanelle shushes him.

“I told you! It is easier to show you than tell you -- here, look.” She approaches to show them the image on her phone, ignoring the peculiar looks she gets from one or two passersby.  Tugger is the first to lean forward with skeptical curiosity, and then --

“-- It’s us.” His eyes go wide, and Villanelle watches his reaction with a smug sort of delight.  “Oh, that actually is marvelous.”

“I knew you would enjoy any excuse to look at yourself,” Villanelle quips in return, though in truth, it is a very nice picture if she does say so herself. Misto and Tugger look especially handsome in the photo -- you know, for cats. The sun brings streaks of vivid color out in Tugger’s fur, while Misto’s black and white pelt looks particularly glossy. They sit side by side, their sides touching, and Villanelle had captured just the right moment to preserve the glance they’d exchanged as she took the picture: Misto looking up at Tugger in "can-you-believe-what’s-happening” exasperation, and Tugger returning his gaze with something that read between amusement and the inevitable fondness he always seemed to regard the other cat with.

It’s very... them, Villanelle decides.

“It’s...” Mistoffelees seems almost uncharacteristically at a loss for words.  “...It’s like you froze a moment in time.”

Villanelle shrugs agreeably.  “Humans kind of collect them. I can get this printed, and then you can have your own physical copy, if... that is something you want?” She isn’t sure whether cats have any particular use for photos, but Tugger and Mistoffelees seem to like the idea.

“Seems a shame to waste such a handsome keepsake,” Tugger says, his eyes glinting. Misto smiles - in that very un-catlike way the Jellicles have - and looks up at Villanelle directly.

“Thank you.”

She tilts her head and almost responds, but then can’t think of anything good or clever to say. So instead, she turns to where Knock Out is still parked, the impatience practically simmering off him.

“Knock Out! Let me get one of you.”

“I don’t do autographs, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Don’t be so boring, God. Actually, we can all get in it! I will get someone to take it for us.”

It is probably only Villanelle’s perfect French that saves her from looking like a completely batshit tourist as she herds the cats over to him and needles one very confused local into taking a picture of the four of them together. Instead, she just looks like... well, a batshit French person obsessed with taking photos of herself, her two cats, and her sports car. Which is fine with her, really.

The photo turns out nice, too. Not quite as romantic as the first -- actually, it looks pretty silly. Tugger, taking advantage of Knock Out’s inability to protest while in public company, had leaped up onto his hood and sprawled out like some kind of feline model, which had made Villanelle throw her head back and cackle while in the midst of trying to scoop a begrudging Mistoffelees up into her arms. 

They all look like idiots, and normally, Villanelle would delete any photo that made her look like an idiot without a second thought. But there is something kind of nice about it this time. 

She takes them to the Luxembourg Gardens, too, where an artist asks if she can paint Mistoffelees (leaving Villanelle, Tugger, and Knock Out all quite individually offended evidently not to be considered the prettiest of the group), and then to the fish market where she figures the cats will be in heaven (shockingly, Tugger decides that Parisian food isn’t beneath him, though Misto is partial to the vanilla ice cream Villanelle buys him later).

By then, it’s getting close to nightfall, and Villanelle checks the time and then the listing on her phone. “Okay. Just one more stop. You will all like this one, I promise.”

“I think we’ve all learned by now not to trust your promises,” Mistoffelees retorts, but it’s goodnatured, a mild protest by his standards. Tugger even joins in making fun of his grumbling this time, and Knock Out has spent the last twenty minutes idly looking into things near the city he might want to do “for reconnaissance purposes” the next day, so Villanelle suspects that - not so secretly - they are all enjoying themselves.

--

The last stop is at a little park just beyond the city, where an overlook affords them a view of the Parisian lights in all their glory.  Misto and Tugger stop to enjoy it together for a little while, while Villanelle urges Knock Out to continue on up the road a little ways to find parking at...

“A drive-in theater.” Knock Out realizes, surprise lacing his tone.

Villanelle slips out the passengers side door to stretch her legs, but also to inform him:  “Drive-in is a loose term. I rented out the entire space for us tonight. I figured if we had a bit of privacy, you wouldn’t have to be stuck as a car all night.”

“I --”  Knock Out starts, then seems to register what she actually said.  Villanelle waits through the pause patiently.  “...I happen to be gorgeous in vehicle mode. As anyone with optics could tell you.”

“Yes,” Villanelle agrees, because she’s already learned how to butter him up, “But you make an even prettier robot.”

Knock Out tilts his mirror at her. His version of a side-eye, and code for I know exactly what you’re doing but I’m still flattered. “Well. I suppose this was... shockingly thoughtful of you.”  He transforms once Villanelle takes another step back, and then crouches down to eye her suspiciously. “Uncharacteristically, one might even say.”

But Villanelle has no real ulterior motives, this time.  She is just happy they all came with her to her favorite city in the world for no other reason than because she asked. Instead of saying that aloud, though, she redirects her attention to the overlook, where Tugger and Misto’s silhouettes are visible.  “Do you think they are enjoying their honeymoon?”

“How would I know?” Knock Out flippantly tilts his head to consider the pair. Misto tucks himself against Tugger’s side, and Tugger wraps his tail around the tom’s smaller frame as if they’ve done this thousands of times before. They look so... still. So content, in a way Villanelle isn’t used to imagining them. “I’m not an expert on the mushy stuff.”

“Really? You don’t have anyone?”

“I...” That actually gets Knock Out to hesitate, his expression unreadable. “...Think it’s inappropriate to divulge that kind of information between agent and handler.”

Villanelle nods ruefully. Konstantin had always been smart enough to avoid talking about his personal life with her, too. “I have someone,” she announces quietly, the status of the actual having be damned. “I might tell you about her someday. But --”  And before Knock Out can react to that, she shifts her attention back to the cats again. “I think they really love each other.”

“That seems like a safe assumption,” Knock Out quips dryly.  “Why do you even care?”

Why does she care? Envy? Her usual fascination with other people’s emotions, the ones that are always just out of reach for her? Neither of those feel right, but Villanelle doesn’t know the name for what is.

It just... feels better, knowing that Mistoffelees and Tugger have each other. It makes something in her calm strangely when she thinks of them.

She just shrugs again, in the end. And then the cats are getting up and coming back around to meet them, and Villanelle shoos away whatever she was feeling or pondering feeling and gives them an elegant smirk.  “Finally decided to join us, lovebirds?”

Tugger smirks right back up at her. “Personally, I would have been quite happy to spend the rest of my night watching the city lights, but Mistoffelees here seemed to feel that would have been terribly discourteous of us both.”

“It is your honeymoon,” Villanelle points out, because despite her teasing she wouldn’t really have minded. Her and Knock Out have a movie they could have entertained themselves with, after all.

“Yes,” Misto agrees lightly. “And I don’t think it’ll be one we’ll ever forget. Especially if you’ve chosen a decent... movie for us.”

“Please, Mistoffelees,” Villanelle mimics Tugger using his full name, because she enjoys the way it rolls off her tongue and she knows her accent makes it sound a little funny. “Surely you trust my taste by now.”

“Not unconditionally.” 

“It’s French,” Villanelle promises them as she goes to turn on the screen.  “-Ish. And romantic. You will watch it, and be grateful that your lives are not anywhere near as terrible as this couple’s are!”

“Moulin Rouge?” Knock Out asks in confusion as the title screen pops up.  “I’m not sure I understand the need for dramatics. It all ends happily enough, doesn’t it?”

Villanelle stares back at him wordlessly, one eyebrow raised.

“...It... I may have caught Starscream watching it once. And I’m positive they get back together safely at the end.”

“Do not spoil it for the cats!” Villanelle tries not to sound too gleeful at this newly collected potential blackmail on the Decepticon second-in-command. She sits down in the grass by Knock Out’s feet, and Tugger settles in beside her with Misto at his side, and Villanelle spends a moment reflecting that it would be really fun to teach them some of these songs.

She wonders if cats can technically sing?