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caltropspress · 1 year

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RAPS + CRAFTS #18: Slumber Logic

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Slumber Logic, Toronto Producer/MC.

Past projects: Greyscale Oblivion (album, production and vocals) 2021; Talking to Walls - w/ Mantis the Miasma (album, production and vocals) 2022; Live From the Corner - w/ TreDoes (EP, production only) 2022; Juan Ep is Life Podcast theme song.

Current Projects: Serenity Now - w/ Darkfield (EP, vocals only) 2023; Detachment, Homie and Only Detachment (production and vocals) 2023.

I’ve been making beats for 18 years rapping for 16, and was off the internet until 2019.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

My only consistent, extended alone-time is between 9:00 pm and 1:00 am in my basement studio these days. I prefer outside in the morning, but my 1-year-old rises at 7. Because I do beats as well, this isn’t necessarily dedicated writing time, just the only time and place I can write.

I've been writing at least 20 minutes a day, every day, as a rule for the past 5 years; verses or a hook, editing, rewriting, poetry, journaling, but the 20 has to be for songwriting. 20 turns into hours when there’s time, but the M.O. is keeping the motor running, even if just a little. The subconscious throws out more to work with when it’s getting exercise. I seldom break the rule and it’s excruciating sometimes, but rewarding.

Throughout the day, I write ideas in bullet points in the small notebook starting from the bottom of the page–anything remotely inspired. The best words do not come where they will. They follow Murphy’s Law when they choose to pull up, and I don’t remember things, so I write them down in the car, out the shower, falling asleep, jogging, cooking, washing dishes and all that. I put these together in the evening.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

I have one small notebook for ideas and sketches, one larger sketchbook with fancy thick paper for putting the sketches together into longer segments and rewrites, and a 2’ x 3’ sketchpad (The Big Bastard) to keep scrap bullet points in one place.

Once something is almost done in the big book, I type it into Google Docs and record the demo sitting down with a mic on a moveable arm so I can edit as I go. I’ll rework in Docs on the laptop or phone if it’s still not done, but try to stay away from those because social media is devastatingly distracting.

I admire folks who can write a verse in their head. I can do that with beat ideas, but can barely remember the date on a good day.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I’m usually compiling snippets and editing, subbing, filling blanks, so it’s scrappy collage work to finalize something cohesive. It’s with the intention of fitting into a bar structure, but there’s lots of stream of consciousness connectors that get whittled and adapted very slowly until, lo, bars.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Usually, I scrap most of what I write per sitting, but hoard the dross in bullet points and the Big Bastard, if I’m organized. A lot of songs are built off these. Years of killing darlings for cohesivity keeps me loose enough to not ditch the entire verse. A 16 usually takes me about a week, on a good week.

If I decide not to move forward, it’s usually after a few hours of work. I’m always pushing past the feeling that it’s not working because it usually works out, but I’ve got a couple abandoned joints where the concept was very ambitious/specific and I either wrote myself into a corner, stopped feeling inspired to continue the concept, or decided the verse would best suit another beat.

I gave up on many songs in my 20s. They could have been fire had I seen them through, but I hadn’t yet learned the patience to turn potential into something I could live with in the long term.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

I’ve written poems for years, but these days it takes a conscious effort to leave them as poems and not work them into songs. I wrote a screenplay years ago and several short stories more recently. Adapting descriptive styles, dialogue, atmosphere into song form is something I work at.

I’ve taken a few creative writing and poetry courses as an adult. With poetry, it helps me get loose in a medium where the reader more often assumes intentionality with challenging work and works to unravel it, rather than incompetence, which is how my neural pathways formed as a young MC. This line of thinking helped me become less judgemental towards my own writing and that of others. My process of heavy whittling was itself whittled by having to hand shit in, and I decided over the course of these courses that it doesn’t count unless I actually hand shit in. That helped me decide when joints are done.

I journal frequently to sort out life issues, and cement memories and gratitude, which often gets paraphrased into raps. Lots of joints are just fly journal entries. My joint “Tardigrade Finnegan’s Wake” is about journaling for resilience.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

Everything’s a stage but right now, I’ll mention again, I labour to all hell. I’ve only more recently learned how long it takes for me to be truly satisfied with the end product in the long term and the patience to see it through. Even then it’s elusive. A quick verse for me is usually a week, but some take months, some years. I haven’t put out any verses since the bad old days that didn’t take at least one edit. This is fluid and may change with time but there’s always a feeling that I’m shooting for at the end of it. If I don’t achieve that feeling then I’m not done.

A few bits of writing advice I keep close are “kill your darlings” (if it doesn’t serve the premise, no matter how much you like it, cut it) and write shitty first drafts (get the thoughts down without judging). Dan-O of Freemusicempire reminded me recently; take the best line from the draft and make every other line as good as that. If I’m stuck, new lines present themselves in the process of rewriting. Time consuming, but seeing out the process that works for me is comforting most of the time.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

Depends on the day. Beats and electronics can be distracting, so total silence is helpful for ideas, and I can ditch the devices. Once I have something, I’m recording it and tweaking to the beat.

If it's a 4/4 70-110 bpm, I can usually hear 4 bars and map the syllable rhythms in silence, sometimes marking the beat to start on, notes for speed tone and inflection, sometimes recording in a phone app. That initial rush of the first take is hindered if I’m bored with the beat already, so silence helps. If it's drumless or a different time signature, I'm listening to the beat for cues and writing at the desk with the mic arm. Klwn Kat just gave me something so messed up recently, the silent approach doesn’t work here.

Writing just to write without a beat in mind is helpful, too. I’ll have ideas or concepts that I need to flesh out and know I can adapt them to a beat later.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

Usually, the beat suggests a topic/vibe/sentence, and I’ll use that as a lead, or choose a beat around one true sentence. Sometimes I’ll have one that fits in the bullet points or Big Bastard, sometimes it’s on the fly, but I’m usually building off that first sentence. I do that with beats too–the intro and first 10 seconds set the standard of quality I want the rest to meet. Not always–it has to be a fluid process with room for error and changes or else it’s frustrating.

Stream-of-consciousness is a great exercise to flesh out the idea, fill in gaps, say something literal to connect ideas, or thicken the plot. I usually edit it so that I’m impressed by every line both on paper and in the recording after letting it breathe. Journaling helps establish direction, asking “where is this going/what am I trying to say here?” has gotten me out of some bar jams, as in real life.

The end product is always constrained by the rhymes to a degree. 90s NY boom bap is ingrained in my musical DNA and there was a tight technical expectation or else you weren't doing it right. I still have more I want to release with tight rhyme schemes, but have been developing a looser style–it’s just a matter of me being satisfied with a less technical flow.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I experiment. My default flows allow me to focus more on what needs to be said. I need to evolve rhythmically and break away from what comes ingrained, and that only happens by trying new things. There's much to explore and that keeps the process exciting. Drumless joints motivate a looser flow, pulling off not rhyming is a skill just as rhyming to a tight meter, and because I've been doing the latter for so long, the former is almost more of a “skill.” There can be heavy nuance in a well-delivered classic flow pattern.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

I’m proud of how “A Steppenwolf’s Whirling Dervish” starts (from Detachment, Homie, and Only Detachment.) I wanted to do a full story in 2nd point-of-view narration steeped in metaphor for emerging from reclusion.

I have a joint collaboration album with Rap Man Gavin (release slated for late 2023) that I worked on for about 3 weeks. It's a story with dialogue between me and a priest. I expect him to evict me because I'm drinking and smoking in the pews but I end up taking his confession of his and the church's failures. Eventually he renounces his faith in lieu of the deity of technology. I had the general story outlined but really struggled balancing a clear plot arc, transitions, unique language, dialogue and metre. I kept at it, rewriting, trying new ideas, trashing lots, but listening back, I think it stands up.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

“But how I was complicit in creating the conditions so thoughtlessly counter to the outcome of the mission?

And how do I condition someone so willing to play the victim that they’re both worthy of love and the firmest versions of discipline?”

With “Rakes,” I was trying to write about these physical jolts I get when thinking about painful events in my past. More specifically, mistakes I’ve made that have hurt others and myself. At worst, they jolt you out of your sleep or train of thought and it feels like you got slammed in the face with a rake (the beat is sprinkled with sound clips of Sideshow Bob stepping on rakes). Thinking about mental health in black-and-white, I can either say, “I made mistakes and hurt because I’m a piece of shit,” or “All these things were outside of my control, and I did the best I could,” but it’s often both, and finding the degree to which either one is more true is trying. The album title Grayscale Oblivion represents following that dichotomy to the bottom of the spiral until you don’t know what is what, and by doing so, subconsciously learning the tools to climb out and regain decisiveness. To what degree of responsibility I have over my own happiness; how much is chemical and genetic, how much of it we are able to influence, how I can take more responsibility and forgive myself for my chemical makeup and blunders. Like a serenity prayer for clinical depression. We inevitably learn even when static, even while failing.

The two bars are an interpolated question that came up in an interview with Jerry Colona: “How have I been complicit in creating the conditions I say I don’t want?” I wasn’t going to cold jack the whole line, so I left it in my notebook as “How have I been complicit in creating the conditions _____________” and journaled to work out the but. That was both music and personal work.

In memory, the second half was trying to transcribe “I’m trying to be better, I have a tendency to take no responsibility, but I can love myself and look at the consequences of being flawed in the face–it’s both” into rhyme form. It’s playing with different options on the end word and syllable matching in between. I had to play with many options to meet the technical standard I was going for. Worked on that little bridge for a few hours over a couple of days, and I tell myself that’s why I’m still happy with it.

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I’m pro-punch-in as long as it’s indistinguishable where it needs to be. First recording drafts with a few punch-ins help establish the flow, then get more comfortable rapping it. I'll tweak as I go, sometimes leave in a punch if it suits. Sometimes the continuity of one take sounds better; sometimes the contrast in vocal tones accentuates beat transitions. The homie Rap Man Gavin does this very well. It's gotta be doable live, but I'll do both if and when it melts my butter. Most of my tracks are one-takes, but punch-ins have their place. ODB punched in all the time, and it sounded perfect.

I’m steady whittling verses for breath control. Rap has always been a compromise between technicality and expressing what would be easier expressed in non-rhyme form. I expect the degrees of compromise to change over time.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Therapy has helped me channel emotions without straight whining or being inauthentically aggressive. It’s given me tools to say what I’m feeling out loud, and rap allows me to get playful with that. Likewise, meditation inspires the writing in the sense that I’m often encouraging groundedness in songs.

This is a condensed list but authors like Baldwin, Robbins (Tom), McCarthy, Pynchon, Angelou, Hesse, Vonnegut, Tim Kreider, Castaneda, Hunter S., and Salinger get me excited to attempt beautiful phrasing. Pema Chodron and Tara Brach have me thinking and writing much about acceptance, healthy detachment, and resilience. Books on the writing craft motivate me to persevere, Steven King’s On Writing, Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, Hemingway’s On Writing.

Then it’s just the stuff I’ve always loved. South Park, Aqua Teen, Chapelle, all things Eddie Murphy, Beavis and Butthead, Trailer Park Boys, Futurama, skate videos I grew up on. Cartoons and comedy. The art of skateboarding has so many parallels in terms of creative technicality and I try to work these less heady elements into my music. Eastern philosophy and judo inspires my mindset when I write.

Conversations with friends and family are always working their way in as well. Recently, I was talking to my homie Keith about our kids’ sleep difficulty and he said, “You have to pretend you’re 90 and on your deathbed and were given a time machine ride, but the ride only goes to this moment right now.”

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Yes, saddled. It often sounds awful, and I worry about what other people think more than I should. Knowing I’m not alone in that, and acknowledging the variance of my reactions between listens, prevents it from hindering the process. The only solution is to push through and chip away until I can’t improve on it any further. Without the doubt, I may not have put in the hours to make music I can live with and be proud of sharing.

Per the intro, I only started doing social media and connecting with folks online around 2021. I subscribed to the Rap Music Plug Podcast, joined Twitter and connected with some folks who give me frequent boosts, and I’d like to shout out to some of those MFs if it pleases the court: TreDoes, Rap Man Gavin, Dan-O, Levi, Rhino, Ayo Big Man, Mantis, nogod., Fick, Unsung, Bloodmoney Perez, Teddy Faley, Killvongard, Rohan, hbnd, Keith.

All that said, doubt rises mostly when listening back. When the pen is hitting paper, there’s a core confidence I attribute to my teachers and homies in elementary and high school. I could see their genuine shock that certain things came out of me. That feeling of being nice with it early on helps me never step lightly. Big thanks to my creative writing teacher Janet Somerville. I owe her a debt of gratitude. Please buy her books, hardcover.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

Such a good and difficult question. I have a few thoughts on this, so your patience is appreciated.

In my early 20s it was One Be Lo and Deca. I was a sad sack because they were so close to the vision I had for my art, only years ahead. I avoided listening to them to avoid influence, because it was all so devastatingly impressive to me at that time. The feeling was, “This is so much better than I could ever be”–petty, arrogant, maybe true, but human. Over time I decided absorbing the influence, feeding off the inspiration, and creatively differentiating myself was more productive.

Further, Aesop Rock is to interesting rap word choice as The Simpsons is to sitcom plots. So many times I got smug about a unique word or play on a phrase and a week later bump Aes and realize it’s back to the drawing board. I Genius things sometimes to make sure I’m not getting too close to or bodied.

Hemingway, problematic jackass though he was, said something like, "read everything so you know who you have to beat." Competitiveness has never helped me, but it’s good to know if your writing is as clever as you think it is, and what’s going to make eyes roll. Standards are elevating constantly, so I like to keep on top of it.

These days listening to unique folks is like watching a skate video before a session. You can’t duplicate Peter Smolik’s switch-back 5-0 at Hubba Hideaway, but it sure as hell makes you amped to skate, and you’ll dip into your own bag and shoot to evoke the same reaction. There’s power in that.

Also, woods, SKECH185, E L U C I D, and Joe from Caltrops. If Joe rapped, we’d all be fucked. I listen to/read them lots, so the influence is ingrained. It’s not so much an urge to imitate, more to differentiate when it comes out unintentionally sounding like them.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

My overarching goal is to create a catalog of records over many years that I’m proud of. Secondary to that, I’d like to build with more producers and MCs. Staying focused on creating a catalog anchors me so that external factors like recognition, promotion, media, don’t distract me from it.

I’d like my joints to show how many sides there are to every story, the necessity of kindness and that harnessing it requires more power than its opposing force, that hurt people hurt people, and that we are accountable. I’d like to show my respects to the architects and trailblazers of the genre and be a part of the solution to the problem of white supremacy. I’d like to translate gorgeous narratives, devices, dialogues of other art forms into a rap format. I want every line to count and to show, not tell. I could be better at all of this, going back to the overarching goal: keep trying.

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: Slumber Logic

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calowlmitygoddess · 1 year

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by @/creatackers Mic. Oc related questions!

* Who was your first ever OC? Do you still “use” them? How have they evolved over time? The first oc i had was a self insert named simply Dragon-Girl, eventually i gave her a real name but it was still based on my irl name. Nowadays while she still exists in one of my stories, she's a background myth, a primordial god-figure known as The Archivist

Who is your newest OC? Why did you make them? My PC character in Baldur's gate 3, they're a red dragonborn sorcerer with gold dragon heritage and i think they are neat

Biggest self-insert OC? Intentionally, the first oc mentioned, accidentally i think Aster, he's like THE most wish-fulfilment character i have

What kind of music do your OCs listen to? I have so many characters it really depends. None of them listen to anything out there tough

What are some of your OCs biggest fears? I remember i used to have a character with a very specific fear , but i dont remember who or what it was .w.

Do you have any OCs without stories? Will you ever create one for them? Yes, so many, i try my best to fit characters in stories but since i also like to design/buy designs from others i ended up with quite the backlog of unused characters. Ideally all of them would have their turn to shine, but thats unlikely

What are your favourite relationships between your OCs? (romantic or platonic!) SO many. Akila Shadlan and Ryu sibling fuckery, Akila and Althia toxic old woman yuri, Erigon, Kyran and Garlasia Epic codependency, Imay and Hiraki sibling fuckery, Aster and Raine marriage goals. ANd ofc the stars of my current wip, Meira, Wisteria and Orick, The avatar of relationships, able to contain fluff and angst in equal measures

Do you have any OC family trees? YEs, i have an unfinished one, for my old project, and in fact all main characters in that story are somewhat related since they all are connected to the three god siblings

Favourite OC? Akila, she has been living rent free in my mind for like 3 years now. Shes my poor meow meow, my rotten soldier, my silly little boy, my blorbo if you will. Shes the main force behind the story she is for and i think i did a good job with her character.

OC you most struggled to make? at first, Wisteria i think. She felt very flat as her first concept was just 'nice queen everyone loves' but now that ive spiced her up a little she has unfolded.

* Sum up one or more of your wips! My Big Wip that wont see the light of day in years but lives in my head rent free: Big Sibling Spat dooms the world. But then one of the siblings die and now the other two are very pissed and its everyone problem now. Wip two currently being worked on: Three idiots keep being put in Situations until they all fall in love

Which story took the most research? Imagine researching for any story LMAO

Which story has the most lore? Big wip, it has like 10 years worth of miscelanious lore.

Current word count of all your main wips? My only current wip is on almost 40k words wohoo

How many projects do you have going on right now? Are there any that you doubt you’ll ever finish? Currently one, the rest are all ideas i HOPE to get to one day, but i do worry i might not due to my skill level

What was you first major project? How far along is it? Currently working on it! just passed the halfway point a month ago and havent worked on it since

What are some tropes and character dynamics found in your wips? Female protagonists+ mostly female cast, Heavy fantasy, Trios, Dragons, Autistic coded Magic specialist guy in a relationship with a redish dragon-adjacent person.

Describe the setting of one or more of your wips Big wip is a heavy fantasy setting that takes place both in Hell dimention and Mortal dimention, its literally what you get when you google Fantasy Landscape, also a mix of tech/magic. Current wip is more lax, i imagine it being a mix of medieval-pre industrial aesthetic, there are some big technologic developments happening but still very early.

What are some things that inspired your stories? Real events? Maybe a dream? Many things, so many things. Mostly other media. Current wip started as a HK fanfic idea i had.

What story are you the proudest of? Why? Big Wip even tought it doesnt really exist, is the one im most passionate about. Current Wip has grown on me tought, thought my satisfaction with it fluctuates, im proud that it exist in some form, but deeply unsatisfied with how...flat some of it is

* When did you start considering yourself a writer/artist? somewhere back in my teens, i think;

What are all the “kinds” of writing/art you do? (short stories, poetry, screenplays, digital, painting, clay, etc.) I draw aside from writing prose. Tried picking up other artistic hobbies like sculpiting and piano but those felt trought

Are you in any writer/artist groups? (Ex: discord server!) a few!

Do you have/want a career in your medium? If not, what do you do/want to do instead? No, i tried and it made me deeply unhappy. Im now hoping to be able to go into paleontology.

What’s your favourite genre to write? Is it also your favourite genre to read? FANTASYYYYY FANTASYYYYY, im a fantasy conosceur, the fact my wip is a more grounded romance thing makes me want to chew drywalls

What are your favourite books? My confort books are the Seven Realm series, very confy fantasy. The Locked Tomb is the one i love the prose the most, absolutely insane series.

What are your favourite movies? i dont really watch movies, really do like the first how to train your dragon movie

Favourite songs at the moment? depends on the moment, not really listening to any on repeat rn

What was your first fandom you were in? Did you make any art/fanfic for it? Voltron Legendary Defender, did art exclusively of my queen, my beloved Honerva

How are you doing? <3 pretty good!

#owl rambles

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checkopcas · 2 years

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faithinlouisfuture · 2 years

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thinking thoughts (x)

#I was hoping someone sane would post this so I’d just have to reblog with cursed tags but no one did so here you go #when inanimate objects are living your dream #sir please #detach yourself #you’re in public!#Taormina #louis and his mic #currently googling: how to turn into a mic?

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trulylino · 3 years

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=> Translation, Please - KNJ

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, idol!reader, nonenglishspeaking!reader

Summary: Namjoon helps you understand another groups speech and in turn teaches you some English. Writing in italic is in English for context!

Warnings: None!

Word count: 1k

Series: Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook

Masterlist

The show was nearing its end now. Stray Kids was thanking their audience and you were looking around in bewilderment, much like the rest of your fellow idols and group.

The words currently coming out of Chan's mouth seemed like absolute gibberish, given that you only knew about four words of English. 'Hello, goodbye, I love you.' Five. You have a quick nudge to Namjoon who was sitting near you, hoping he would help you out.

"What the hell is he saying?" You whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear, ensuring you would hear his inevitable whisper back.

"I forgot you don't speak English y/n," he teased, before leaning towards you to translate.

"Just tell me! He's nearly done... I think." You whisper shouted back at him, getting frustrated.

"Ok, its pretty much just a normal acceptance speech. He's thinking Stays, that's their fanbase I think, and saying how much it means to them and how hard they all worked for this. That's pretty much it, to be honest."

"Thanks, Joon," you smiled at him, relieved he had actually told you so you weren't as lost as everyone else around you, who, similarly had no idea what Chan was on about. A few English speaking idols were scattered amongst the crowd, and like Namjoon himself, were also translating for their group members. You could see Haechan explaining to someone (you couldn't see who as his head was blocking it) and in the distance saw Wendy telling Seulgi what was going on. It made you feel better to know that you weren't the only one asking for help.

"Anytime y/n." He grinned at you before turning round.

You tapped his shoulder just a few seconds later, drawing his attention to you once more. You were scared for a moment that he would be angry at you for disturbing him too much, but then you remembered exactly who you were talking to. This was Namjoon who had held back your hair when you were sick, Namjoon who had sulked when you easily beat him at Mario KART. God he was terrible at video games. You chuckled at the memory of him trying to play but somehow ending up going backwards.

"What is it n/n?" He questioned, his hair falling over his eyes when he turned round. You brushed it out of the way, hoping his stylist wouldn't get annoyed at you. It was better that him blowing it off, at least.

"How do you say thank you in English Joonie?" You looked into his now non hair covered eyes expectantly.

"Do you not have Google y/n?"

"You know we can't have phones out here! Just say!"

"Agh, fine, it's thank you."

"*Thank you.." You repeated, cautiously. Your voice wobbled slightly at the end, making the sound come out a bit wrong.

"Try keeping your mouth more open at the end and it'll sound better. Try again, thank you."

"Thank you." You tried again, following his instruction.

"That's better! You did good! Practically fluent already." He joked, before turning back around as to not to be rude to the people on the platform speaking.

Stray kids were all off the stage now, Daesang in their clutches. It was impressive, they were a relatively new group and they had such a large fanbase already. You were almost jealous.

・・・・・・

It came time for your own group to go on stage, and being their leader, you were going to give the first speech. You bowed to the audience and the cameras, trying to contain both your tears and your grin so it didn't feel like your grin was splitting your face in two. You took the mic in your hand and began addressing everyone.

"I want to thank everyone who made it possible for us to get here. We appreciate and love you all so much. You are all so special to us and we could not have done this without all the constant support from you. We love you, THANK YOU!"

You looked to Namjoon as you finished in English and he smiling proudly at you. You tried not to get your eyes lost in the crowd and you were startled slightly when one of your other group members stepped forward to give their own speech. Duh. This is what you had practised. You quickly moved out the way, only to find Namjoon still watching you, giving you a thumbs up from his seat and grinning ear to ear.

・・・・・・

You rushed down to see him as soon as your award was in your hands and you were leaving the stage, awaiting the final goodbyes from the hosts. You didn't even listen to them as you spoke to Namjoon.

"You did so well! Your international fans will love it! I thought you were brilliant." You blushed at his words, glad that he of all people thought you had done a good job.

"I wish I could speak English like you Joon, its not fair, its going to take me so long to learn. I tried to get a tutor but I just don't have time with training and our comeback."

"I could teach you?" He offered, making you do a double take. Namjoon teaching you? The idea made you nervous.

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course y/n, you mean a lot to me, and I want to help you out."

"Then, yes! I'll text you, no, I'll call." You rushed out, the words spilling out your mouth. Namjoon laughed at you, making you stop speaking. Why was he laughing at you?

"I'll see you later y/n." He waved at you before walking away leaving you happy and excited at the side of the seating area by yourself. Instantly, your bandmates rushed over to you.

"What was he saying? You're bright red." One member asked.

"He's going to be tutoring me in English. Alone."

Your phone pinged from your bag and you hurriedly got it out.

Namjoon: "So, about those lessons."

Taglist: @dreamescapeswriting @sparkyprotectionsquad @bang-me-chan

Credit: Header by @vdimpl

#namjoon x reader #rm x reader #kim namjoon x reader #rm #rap monster #bts x reader #bts #idol!reader #bts fanfic #kpop

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caspercryptid · 3 years

Note

could i request a jayvikmel zombie apocalypse au? ship or gen anything is fine.

This....got away from me. Feel free to hop into my inbox about a follow up sometime, or don't and I'll circle back, because.... this. Really. Really got away from me.

Jayvik and Jaymel, currently, for worldbuilding reasons. I'll close the V later. Enjoy!

TWs: Gore, vomiting, violence, disease...Zombie stuff. yknow.

____

When it starts, all Jayce can think about is how relieved he is that it isn’t his fault.

It’s a stupid thing to think. Genetics and epidemiology and biology had never been his field, that was more Viktor’s area, and that was the really terrifying thing, that was where the relief ended. Because it hadn’t been his lab. His lab was in Washington DC. He was fairly well insulated, for a while, at his nice house in the suburbs and his politician neighbors that were ready to lock everything down at a moment’s notice. It hadn’t started in Washington DC, nor out at Langley, nor in any of the weird bits of unmarked map where google decided to stop showing you pictures of the street and you just had to make your own assumptions.

One day, Jayce had turned on the TV, and found out that Boston was being quarantined, and the only thing he could think was oh, Fuck, Viktor, what have you done.

That had... unfortunately. Proven prescient.

It’s not that Jayce had been wholly incapable of telling which way the wind was blowing. It’s just that he tended to be pessimistic, and then tended to try to balance out that pessimism with rationality. It wouldn’t be that bad. They must have caught it quickly, the city was on lockdown before people even started reporting symptoms. And the deaths were bad, yes, when those started, but that just validated the concern. The city was on lockdown. Really, the only person he had to be scared for was Viktor, and he was. Terrified. For Viktor. A week in, after the first people started showing symptoms, he’d tried to call. No voicemail. Nine days in. Fevers, chills, dehydration. Two calls, one from a payphone just in case Viktor had call ID. no answer. No voicemail. Eleven days. Vomiting. Disorientation. A strange increase in bone mass, calcifying. Arrhythmia. Abnormal muscular changes. Hey, Viktor, I know it’s been a while since we talked–

Fourteen days. Three deaths. All in immunocompromised patients. Comorbidities. It’s not that surprising. The fever alone would do it. Viktor’s facebook hasn’t been updated since a week before the lockdown. Neither has his linkedin. Sixteen. Eight deaths. One was a child. Jayce sends an email. The news starts getting conflicting reports. The death toll might be higher than reported. The lab is seizing bodies and not returning them to their families. The family of the ten year old files a lawsuit.

Day Nineteen.

FROM: ViktorMH@█████.edu

SUBJECT: re: Please just tell me you’re okay

MESSAGE:

Jayce, Get on a plane and get out of the country. Any plane. Any country. The more remote the better. Leave. Now.

The next time Jayce sees Viktor, it’s day 21, on television, and he’s grabbing the mic at a press conference to tell everyone the dead are rising, and he’s escorted off the stage.

On day 23, they do.

Jayce isn’t fast enough leaving, because of course he isn’t. Not getting on a plane, getting to boston, because if he was going to die he was going to die next to the only person in the world he’d ever loved, and he had said as much in the emails he’d sent that had all bounced with a RETURN TO SENDER and something about invalid usernames. Viktor had lost his post at the university. Jayce didn’t care. Jayce didn’t care if Viktor didn’t know he was coming for him, he wasn’t going to let anything, not even the literal apocalypse, stop him.

Unfortunately, the literal apocalypse did not get the memo.

He bites back a scream as he gets stuck in a blockade trying to head north around DC. Traffic had been pretty clear– everyone’s heading the other way, but he gets shut down by the officers trying to quarantine the city. He’s arguing with a border patrol officer that seems to have been shipped in to deal with it– the guy barely seems to know what’s going on. Jayce is trying to argue, and the guy's hands are up, and then he bends double and throws up.

Jayce is so thrown off that he’s not paying attention to what’s going on around him– his car’s stopped on the side of the road, he’s just standing in front of an offer who’s vomiting– what looks like blood and–

Jayce’s brain completely fails to process the rest of what’s in front of him, and he freezes, and he processes belatedly that he’s not wearing a mask, why isn’t he wearing a mask, surely the disease has a risk of an airborne vector–

But in the same second second as the disgust and the fear hits him, Jayce’s mouth is already moving. “Are you– okay?”

The man doesn’t respond, just groans, swaying on his feet. Instinctively, Jayce moves forward to steady him, and then there’s a hand grabbing the back of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

The voice is– Jayce turns around.

The voice matches it’s owner.

She’s beautiful, in the kind of way that strikes Jayce dumb for a second, like he hadn’t since high school, and maybe it’s half the shock. She has freckles, Jayce thinks, stupidly, except they’re gold flakes across her dark skin like a handful of stars coming out when the sun first sets. There’s gold clips in her hair, too, twisted neatly up on top of her head. She’s wearing a suit with gold buttons that flash in the light, gold cufflinks that Jayce notices distantly as her hand draws back.

She gives him a patient look, like maybe she’s used to this reaction, and then she says–

“Get in my car.”

“–What?” Jayce manages.

“If you don’t get in my car,” She says, sweetly, “you are going to die.”

“What?”

She purses her lip, and then there’s movement in Jayce’s peripheral vision, but he can’t make it what it is before he’s shoved, full-body, the woman dragging him at full force and then half-flinging him at a car with blacked out windows, and Jayce isn’t thinking, Jayce is finally jarred enough to open the door, but he makes a mistake, and he turns around, half-shouts a warning as the officer lunges.

She’s a few steps behind him, but she’s not making it to the car, she’s stopping, and it happens so fast that Jayce swears he didn’t see it, that his mind has to fill in the gaps in the seconds, because one second there’s a man lunging with blood down his chin at the woman’s back, and the next her arm is up and there’s blood bursting out the man’s neck, and he’s going down, and it’s only after he hits the ground that Jayce hears the sound of the gun, processes that she’s holding it, and he covers his mouth, because screaming doesn’t seem like what he should do right now.

She turns back around, and Jayce doesn’t know what expression he was expecting to see, but it's not the raw half-panic furrowing between her eyebrows and into the lines of her face.

“I missed.” She says, nonsensically. “Please get in the car, now.”

“What do you mean you–”

Jayce freezes, stopping, as the man behind her starts to pull himself up, but she’s not waiting for any more reactions, she shoves jayce by the shoulders into her backseat and slams the door, and then lunges back into the driver’s side and slams the door shut as the body of the man slams into it– because surely it’s just a body, surely that’s not a person anymore, but it’s still moving, teeth and gore against the window, and Jayce wretches, covering his mouth, and the woman in the front seat is slamming on the gas, barreling over traffic cones, speedometer needle jerking forward.

“–Mel.” She says, looking slightly hysterical. “My name is Mel.”

“Jayce.” Jayce says. “Doctor Talis. Not the useful kind of doctor. Do you have a bag? I think I'm going to throw up.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

#jayvik #jaymel #jaymelvik #meljayvik #mel x jayce #jayce x viktor #casper's haunted fic tag #ah triad tagging

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bumackerman · 3 years

Text

DEAR ADULT READERS/CREATORS,

18+ (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

^ see that? there is absolutely no way you missed that disclaimer if you understand the proper way to read english. but, let’s say you did miss it... here’s this message;

if you are under the age of 18, do not interact with 18+ adult accounts, or content.

there. hopefully you got the memo. if not, then i guess, one day, you’ll have the great opportunity to be featured in this brand new series of exposing, purging, and reporting minors! i mean... yay you?

disclaimer!; do not send any unnecessary hate to any of these people! it does not solve anything, and it could get you in trouble. just report, and block. thanks.

featured today, we have (drumroll please)... @/matching-with-my-demons!

warning: this post is very long!

alright, so i don’t actually know for sure if he’s necessarily a minor, but i do know that he’s been lying his age, and many, many other details about his life, leading to him getting caught by yours truly.

from this point forward, i will be reciting a briefed account of what exactly happened from a collective point of view of all of the victims involved.

I. beginning.

so, (and i think all of the people involved can agree,) this person is a flirt. automatically. just giving everyone pet names, talking about doing stuff with us, role playing with us, you know. nothing too extreme. i wasn’t suspicious of him at this point. i mean, i was sure he was 18+. to be fair, he did mention that he was 21 turning 22. why wouldn’t we believe him? he was speaking like an adult.

II. little lies & suspicion.

now, i’m not saying that this is impossible, but at multiple times during our conversations, he’d mentioned that he was was fluent in seven languages. seven. it’s not entirely impossible, but you’d think that if english wasn’t someone’s first (of many) languages, they’d have some sort of accent, right?

not only that, but he stated that he was six years old when he moved to america from japan, and he hasn’t moved since. i know, i know, yeah, cool he knows a lot of languages, and he’s a foreigner. yadda, yadda. get to the point.

he said that he was of asian descent, and that his parents were both japanese, and they lived in japan their whole lives. where the hell is he learning all of these extra languages at the young age of 21?

if japanese is his first language, we can cut out the time needed to become fluent in it. next, i’m ignoring english, as he would’ve had from the age of 6 to 21 to become fluent in it, but somehow he claimed he wasn’t? (let’s not mention the obvious fake misspellings and misunderstandings of simple words.) how on earth would he have become fluent in (at least) five other languages in middle school-high school?

OTHER LITTLE LIES N DETAILS

- he claimed that he was a 6’7, 21 year old (cis) male.

- said he was a stripper, bartender, and a sex worker (we’ll come back to that later).

- sent a picture of “his” chest, but it was 100% from google or some shit.

- (not judging anyone who does) he said that his body count was 74, but literally no one asked?

- he texted us when he “got another body” tf? we don’t care. carry on, i guess. (said he went on for like 7 rounds but... what?)

- talked about getting a vibrator stuck in his ass n his roommate had to get it out for him, but once again, nobody asked. °-°

- said he could bench 200 lbs. not impressive, just thought it was worth mentioning.

- said he had the same birthday as bakugou, which, okay.. (4/20)

- he made multiple channels in the server where he could roleplay with certain people, which, i, and a couple other people never used.

III. the voice chat.

after a while of all of us messing around, the conversation started to get heated, and some of us were teasing him, including me. we decided to get on voice chat (his idea), and he started talking into the mic. all of us were very confused, as he did not at all sound like a giant of a grown man.

but, despite this, we all warily continued, until he left the call. when he left, everyone who was participating voiced their current concerns, and laughed out our nervousness. that is, until he re-joined and everyone muted. he continued doing what he was doing until he “broke character”, stating he was a voice actor and it was hard to keep up that voice because it hurt his throat. i would’ve believed him if he didn’t sound the exact same as he did when he was “in character”.

after that, we were a lot more concerned and on edge about his identity, and i started to focus more on the shit he was telling us, hoping to find out who the fuck this person really was. i stopped interacting with him in a nsfw way, and mostly observed what he was saying, just watching from the sidelines.

II. the pictures.

captions:

not only do the skin colors just not match up, the hands in each picture are totally different people. even if you take into account the lighting differences, the undertones should still be the same. these pictures are fake.

if you look at the fingers, you can see that the ones on the right are flatter, and shorter. if the hand on the left were to hold that phone, it would wrap all the way around the device.

from a common sense standpoint, we know that our palms are always lighter than our skin tone. the fact that the hand on the left is still darker, proves that these are different people. (not that we needed proof.)

also, if this guy is so muscular, why can he only bench 200lbs? and why is his wrist so skinny?

+ to me, the phone, (right image) and the quality of the picture, looks like a black iphone 4s. from what i can see, at least. meaning, if i’m correct, that picture is majorly outdated.

for both pictures, he flipped the image so that we wouldn’t be able to find it by just by reverse image searching. luckily, one of the people involved was able to figure that out, and told me immediately.

III. ID check.

like i said before, a lot of us were starting to get really suspicious, but at this point, i thought i was the only one that was sketched out, so i issued another ID check.

(be sure to click on the pictures. one of them is really long. also, when reading, read the date and times that messages are sent. i was trying to lighten the mood and be nice, but it was honestly so offensive that he thought i was legitimately dumb.)

so, obviously, these ID’s are fake. not only are the pictures the exact same, but the backgrounds are the same, the outfits are the same, the names are totally fake, and just, wow. i don’t really know how he thought that was gonna slip past me.

after i called both him, and @/yourmajesty-theking out, he went into his own discord and started ranting to some of the other people involved that he was freaking out because he didn’t have his ID.

remember how i said that he mentioned he was a stripper/bartender/sex worker? why the fuck don’t you have your ID on you if you claimed you were at work that day? you can’t get in without it. °-° just- everything he was saying didn’t come together cleanly. the timeline is all sorts of fucked up.

you can’t drive without an ID, how are you getting to work? you can’t get into a strip club without an ID, how are you getting in? you can’t serve alcohol without and ID, how are you a bartender? you can’t get an apartment without an ID, how are you living with a roommate?

he told us that he moved to america with his PARENTS, and somehow his grandmother is in america now? when did that happen? if you’re gonna lie, at least make it believable.

IV. conclusion.

anyway, do what you want with this information. the people in the discord all agreed that based off his voice and the evidence, that he couldn’t have been older than 15, and at most, 16.

though he hasn’t deactivated his account, the last time he was active was april 7, 2021 at 12:39am (EST) he claims he lives in cali, so i don’t know what time that is there.

thanks for reading. i’m sure i missed a lot of stuff, but for now, this is all i could put together. also, lmk if there are any spelling errors. i’m too tired to check.

like i said, if i get any hate for calling out a minor, you will be blocked/reported, and i will not hesitate to turn anons off for the time being. besides, saying dumb shit doesn’t affect me. just makes me laugh.

- bum <3

#18+ (mdni)#🍓. bum’s purge ࿐

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swga-ficrecs · 3 years

Text

june 2021 recap

ahh june was a really fic-filled month!!! i used to be a silent reader but then i realized that it’s hard to go back to the fics i really liked reading since i had no way of finding them except for remembering key words and googling the shit out of it lol so!!! i thought of doing a monthly recap of all my favorites in addition to the fics i like and reblog. thank you to these wonderful authors who just write pure magic ✨

🏆 holy grail | ☀️ fluff | 🌧 angst | 💋 smut.

fave authors

🏆 @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong

HOLY GRAIL AUTHOR!!! Loved a lot of their series because of the tropes and the plot. I’ll definitely come back to their fics in the future for another binge reading session

@taecalikook

Really loved their fuckboy trope fics. Has a few unfinished fics I’m excited to binge read once they’re completed

🏆 @gukyi

Discovered their work back in 2017? Really loved IGYMH and reread their masterlist this month

@ve1vetyoongi

All I can remember is the ending of Mic Drop and I can’t 😭 I’m really excited for their unfinished fics!!!!

fave fics

Arranged by @.minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

Pairing: chaebol MYG x student reader

Y/N is a struggling student in Seoul: working multiple jobs, living in a broom closet apartment, and often sacrificing her dignity for the sake of her livelihood. What happens when a handsome stranger presents her with an offer she cannot refuse at the moment she needs it most?

Dissonance by @.minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong 🏆 🌧 ☀️

Pairing: bassist KTH x student / band manager reader

The Parting by @.minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong 🏆 🌧 ☀️

Pairing: flower shop owner PJM x reaper reader

The only certainty in life is death, and it seems to follow Park Jimin. All his life, the icy shadow of death has hung closely by his side, along with the shadow of…something else. Reapers exist to guide the souls of the living to the world beyond. But what happens when a particular Reaper tampers with the natural order and saves a mortal boy’s life? What will they do once their fates become inextricably linked?

From Home by @gyukult 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

Pairing: chaebol JJK x reader

jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class?

(Not) Just Friends by @.taecalikook 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

Pairing: Bestfriend / fuckboy / fratboy JJK x reader ft. KSJ

Befriending the fuckboy with devilishly handsome face and emotional capacity of a pea is not your choice, especially when you met him when you were in fifth grade, attracted for the unhealthy vermilion shaded face of the nerd he was that fateful day. So was Jungkook, as he is already putting strictly platonic label on your forehead and calls it a day. But it is only a matter of time before everything changes, and it only takes a frat party, lots of booze and… a certain Kim Seokjin.

Partiality by @jiminimoon 🏆 🌧

Pairing: Husband PJM x reader

You and Jimin argue about your kids not loving you two equally

Brown-eyed Baby by @jeonstudios 🏆 ☀️ 🌧 💋

Pairing: Single Parent JJK x reader

a lost child at the mall. eyes from a different time.

I’ll Give You My Heart by @.gukyi 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

Pairing: CEO bestfriend MYG x reader

gift exchanges are cool. gift exchanges with your ceo-slash-best friend min yoongi are less cool, because what the hell are you supposed to get the man that already has everything?

The Truth Between Us by @.gukyi and @jimlingss 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

Pairing: Editor MYG x reader

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

Love is Blind by @cinnaminsvga 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

[Final] Pairing: Fake boyfriend KNJ x reader

social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way)

Love Grows Where You Go by @hueseok 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

Pairing: Fiancé MYG x reader

determined to make you and yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. you know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you’re positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don’t find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. that is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.

Give Me Love by @.hueseok 🏆 ☀️ 🌧

Pairing: Lawyer boyfriend KNJ x reader

you’ve been in a relationship with your boyfriend for over five years now, yet the talk of marriage has never been initiated between the two of you. of course, you try to somehow squeeze it in from time to time, but it seems like no matter what, namjoon just won’t take the hint

Cornfields and Cosmos by @jessikahathaway ☀️ 🌧 💋

Pairing: Alien MYG x reader

Cornfields: He was an alien. You were a girl. Can I make it any more obvious? Probably. It’s the one where Yoongi’s a cold alien that needs love too.

Cosmos: Yoongi and you had been travelling together for a long time. You’d begun the terrifying journey of becoming parents. When a new person arrives in a way you didn’t expect, you and Yoongi’s relationship is sent into a tailspin.

The Art of Craving by @venusiangguk ☀️ 💋

Pairing: Single parent DILF JJK x reader

jk takes you to a bbq at his friends house. the tri-tip is good but the creampie is even better.

fics to i’m waiting to finish before binge reading

What we are not ; Soulmates by @.taecalikook

Pairing: MYG x reader x KTH

you love yoongi with all your heart throughout these five years being in a relationship with him. you always thought he is the one — your one, even when the infamous soulmate signs are still not showing. yet you always wait, because you know it’s him you are destined to be with, forever. but what would happen if then his childhood best friend comes along, with the universe-signed telltales that you have been looking for true love in all the wrong places?

When the sea sleeps by @.taecalikook

Pairing: KSJ x reader

marriage should be based on love, but it’s not really the case with you and Seokjin. what’s more beneficial than two person who sworn off romances to get married out of obligation, right? but you should have known better, that keeping your heart straight from wanting someone like Kim Seokjin is next to impossible.

After Midnight by @.gyukult

Pairing: JJK x reader

jeon jungkook only likes seeing you after midnight.

Better With You by @ve1vetyoongi

Pairing: KSJ x reader

A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Operation: Love Letters by @.ve1vetyoongi

Pairing: OT7 x reader

When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

Remember Me by @.ve1vetyoongi

Pairing: OT7 x reader

Taehyung wants to be forgotten. Overwhelmed by his life as idol persona V, he longs to just be Kim Taehyung for once. Even if that means forgetting everything he ever knew

🏆 The Prince and His Rose by @vanaera

Pairing: Football player / Childhood bestfriend JJK x reader

Drabble series of “For a While”

The Heart Holiday by @.vanaera

Pairing: MYG x reader

Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing their PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

My Time by @.vanaera

Pairing: JJK x reader

A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Lost Stars by @.hueseok

Pairing: JJK x reader

the last person you’d expect to be there for you is your roommate, jeongguk, on the night you break up with your cheating boyfriend; because as far as you’re concerned, the both of you aren’t exactly friends, and he definitely shouldn’t be running to get you upon hearing you sob via phone call.

so when he does, you begin thinking that maybe you’ve just been hard on him over the years, or perhaps he just liked pretending to be an annoying shit most of the time. either way, it becomes the beginning of an unexpected friendship finally blossoming.

Dexterity + Stupidity by @.hueseok

Pairing: JJK x reader

a drabble series that features surgical intern!jeongguk x surgical resident!reader as they go through their odd senior-junior relationship, obviously having the hots for each other and yet, frustratingly goes into twists and turns in order to properly act on it.

Crimson Grail by @.jessikahathaway

Pairing: MYG x reader

There were tales of the famed pirate Min Yoongi, Captain of the Crimson Grail. However, one meeting with him is hardly ever enough… One taste of adventure, and you were addicted.

Baby Talk by @.jessikahathaway

Pairing: PJM x JJK x reader

Jimin and Jungkook had been trying to get a surrogate for years. Finally when you agree to help them, their dreams seem to be coming true. But, dreams change…

Vegas, Baby by @.jessikahathaway

Pairing: KTH x reader

They say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. What happens when there’s a little more legality to it than that?

Taming the Beast by @.jessikahathaway

Pairing: KTH x reader

You were the next in line to be the head of your village, when your mother gave you to the enemy to save your people from merciless slaughter. What happens when they try to Tame a Beast?

Owner by @.jessikahathaway

Pairing: JJK x reader

With your mother hounding on you (no pun intended), you decided to get a little help from a hybrid, who was also in need of assistance.

If Only You Knew by @agustdakasuga

Pairing: BTS x reader

From the start, you knew you wanted to be a hybrid rehabilitator. You needed to help these hybrids heal, learn to live with one another and lead normal lives. Even if they are all different, you hoped that they could give each other a new reason to live.

#monthly recap #bts fics #bts jungkook #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts jimin #bts v #bts taehyung #bts fic recs #bts fanfic

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

The Angel, Chapter One: Intel {Flip Zimmerman x biker!Reader}

Chapter One: “Intel”

series summary. The Angels are the newest biker gang in town, looking to dethrone the current high-riders, The Sharks, a notoriously violent gang. Fresh off the Klan case, Detective Flip Zimmerman and his new partner, Detective Ron Stallworth, are tasked with finding out more information about this new gang. After a passionate affair behind the bar with a mysterious woman calling herself Siren, Flip discovers that perhaps he’s a bit closer to this investigation than he originally counted on. Can he manage to use this newly-recruited ally to not only take down The Sharks before they strike again, but perhaps use it to benefit his lonesome personal life as well? Find out all this and more in “The Angel”!

chapter summary. Flip and Ron head over to Ace’s, a local bar in Colorado Springs to gather intel on The Angels, the newest biker gang in town. The young detective gets more than he bargained for when he meets and beds a mystery woman named Siren. Except ‘Siren’ ends up being the last person Flip expected to get intimate with and now, he’s entangled in this case, both professionally and personally.

table of contents. Intel (NSFW) * Saint Siren Turned Sharks Intercepted Epilogue

(a * indicates where you are in the table of contents)

author’s notes: hello, hello! saw a few bikers as I was driving on the highway, and my mind decided that I wanted to write a multi-chap fic about flip with a biker gang reader love interest. I love exploring the whole ‘flip with an independent/dom fem reader’ trope. so, here I am, designating an entire ten chapters to it.

**this multi-chap will have 5 parts total (4 ‘story’ chapters and an epilogue). due to the shorter number of chapters/parts, expect each to be longer, usually between 4-6k words.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: smut. heavy flirting. swearing. a generous amount of dirty talk. degradation. oral sex. reader smokes. use of the term ‘pig’ to describe the police.

(possible) tw’s: tobacco use (as is canon for flip’s character). public sex.

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist. I’m also willing to do a series-specific taglist if enough people are interested!)

---

“Alright, everyone. Rumor has it that there’s a new biker gang in town, called ‘The Angels’.” Chief Bridges says. “We gotta be on top of this, make sure they’re not the violent type.”

Flip rubs his chin, stroking his beard as he listens to the limited intel the department has on this new group.

“I’m putting Zimmerman and Stallworth on this one. You’re gonna hang out at some of the local watering holes, see if you can gather some more information on this new group.”

His eyebrows raise and he looks over at his partner. “C’mon Chief, don’t you think our talents could be used elsewhere? It’s just an intel mission, a beat cop could do it.”

“This is incredibly important, Zimmerman, and I only trust my top talent to do the job right.” Bridges crosses his arms, staring daggers at the dark-haired detective. “It’ll be a quick job, I’m sure. No more than a week’s time. Now, get over yourself and do the damn job.”

He huffs softly, nodding as he looks away. “Sure thing, Chief.”

“You’ll head to Ace’s tonight, since that’s where they’re said to hang the most. Meeting dismissed.”

Everyone piles out of the small conference room and back out into the bullpen. Flip lights a cigarette as he sits down at his desk and continues typing up a report from last week’s home invasion-robbery.

Ron sets the ‘Angels’ file down on his desk a few minutes later, sighing as he sits on the edge.

“What are you thinkin’ about this case, Flip?”

“I just wanna get it over with, rookie.” He leans back in his chair, shrugging and taking a drag. “I think it’s nothing to worry about, since they haven’t done anything yet, but the Chief wants us to check it out so I guess we have to.”

Ron nods.

“Well, we’ll head over to Ace’s after work. Hopefully we’ll find something and then we can get back to finding the Sharks.”

The Sharks were the biggest gang in Colorado Springs, spreading violence and dominating the northern part of town. But, all of them wore masks or helmets with masks, so no one’s been able to identify any of them.

“Mmhmm.”

Flip hums, stubbing the cigarette butt out in the mug on his desktop.

Before he knows it, the clock hand lands on 6, and everyone starts packing up. Flip gets up and puts his freshly-typed reports on the Chief’s desk before heading over to Ron’s desk.

“You ready to go, rookie?” He asks, hopping up on his partner’s desk. “I need a fuckin’ beer.”

Ron laughs, shaking his head as he stands up and both men walk back to get the mics and listening equipment together. Flip clips the lauve to his white undershirt, then re-buttons his signature buffalo plaid flannel.

They head out and hop into Flip’s pickup truck. He pulls away from the station and heads down the freeway towards Ace’s while Ron sets up all the audio equipment in the front seat.

The parking lot of Ace’s is almost full when the two detective’s pull in, and when Flip puts the truck in park, he immediately catches sight of a series of bikes parked at the front.

“They’re here.” He says in a low voice, nodding over to the bikes. “I’m gonna go check the jackets to make sure.”

Flip casually gets out from the cab and walks over. He sees one of the jackets draped over the seats with the words ‘The Angels’ and a logo on the back.

“Yup,” He says to Ron through the window of his truck. “It’s them.”

Ron’s eyes widen slightly. “Well then, get in there, partner. See what you can find.”

He chuckles, sticking a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his lighter on as he walks into the bar. His eyes scan the room, looking for biker-like characters, but his attention is quickly drawn to a certain young woman sitting at the bar.

She’s not much younger than himself, if Flip had to guess, and her subtle smile was infectious. Flip was absolutely taken with her, but he maintained his cool, approaching the bar.

“Hey, Earl.” He says, leaning against the bar. “Get me a Miller, would you?”

“Sure thing.” The bartender nods, giving Flip a handshake before heading over to the beer fridge.

You can’t help but look over at the handsome man that’s leaning against the bar. His eyes move over to you, and yours dart away quickly. He smirks, and when you look back over, he gives you a quick wink.

Your cheeks warm as you and the handsome stranger make eyes at each other. You’ve only been in town for a little while, and you’ve certainly never seen someone like him around before.

Once the bartender hands him the dark brown bottle, mister tall, dark and handsome casually makes his way over to where you’re seated. His presence is intimidating in itself, patrons suddenly hushing their voices as he stands behind you.

“Like what you see?” He asks in a low voice, smirking. You chuckle.

“Perhaps, although you don’t have much competition. The human eye is naturally drawn to the most appealing sight in the room and quite frankly, I’m so damn tired of looking at old white men. You were the reprieve.”

“Mmhmm.” Flip laughs, sitting down next to you at the bar, pulling out a cigarette and holding it between his teeth as he flicks his lighter on. “I’m impressed at your ability to spin such a convenient story for your obvious ogling.”

“Don’t act so innocent, prettyboy. Your eyes were not keeping to themselves either.”

You huff softly, taking a drink, the smoke from his latest drag clouding the space between you.

“Perhaps.” He retorts, taking a sip of his beer before looking over at you. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I bet you’d like to know.” You hum softly. “You can call me Siren.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Siren, really? What, is that a nickname or something?”

“Something, yes.”

He’s intrigued by your mysterious and closed-off presence, your casual yet extremely confident demeanor. God, how he’d love to make you crumble on his cock, scream his name and beg him for release.

The thought has him stirring in his Levi’s.

“Phillip.” He says after a beat of silence, taking a drag off his cigarette. “In case you were wondering.”

Back in the truck, Ron shakes his head. “Did you really just use your own name, Zimmerman?”

Flip realizes his slight mistake, mentally kicking himself for not having an alias name already prepared.

Your finger swirls around the rim of the whisky glass. “I wasn’t.”

His eyebrows raise for a moment. He liked this game you’re playing with him, in fact, he loves it.

Finally, a woman giving him the thrill of the chase, making him work for it.

“Are you new in town, Miss Siren? I think I would remember seeing someone like you around here before.”

You nod silently. “Got here a few weeks ago. I’ve got some business to take care of, y’know, tie up some loose ends and such. Then I’ll be out of here.”

“What’s the rush in getting out of here? You don’t like it?”

Your lips curl up into a small smirk. “If I didn’t know any better, it almost sounds like you’re sad to hear that I’ll be leavin’ soon, prettyboy.”

He huffs softly in amusement, although his liking of your nickname for him is much greater than he anticipated or would ever admit aloud. “No, nothing like that. Just curious, is all.”

“I’m more of a city girl. All this fresh mountain air makes me sick.” You quip, smiling softly. “I like the polluted smell of New York much better.”

Flip laughs. “Oh, a city slicker. Yuck.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. He’s kinda cool.

“What, Colorado Springs isn’t enough to convert you, or at least open your mind to the idea?”

He takes one final long drag before crushing the butt out in the ashtray on the bar.

Your eyes linger on his seated figure for a moment before turning your attention back directly in front of you.

“Well, now that I’ve met some more of the locals, I’m thinkin’ about it a little more.”

“Yeah?”

His voice lowers an octave as he leans in a bit closer, one of his large calloused hands now resting on your denim-covered thigh. You shiver slightly beneath his touch, the smell of cigarette smoke and freshly-chopped lumber intoxicating as it ensnares your senses.

“I think you’d like it out here, if you gave it a shot. We’ve got a few things New York can’t offer.”

You’re biting your lip as his husky voice rasps in your ear, his close proximity thickening the tension between you. You haven’t been this rattled by a man in a long time, and damn, it feels good.

“Oh really? And what is that, besides trees and grass, hm?”

His chuckle makes you squirm in your seat.

“Men. Real men. Not the city pussies that gel their hair up all fancy and can’t get a speck of dirt on themselves without throwin’ a damn fit. I mean...”

“Big,” He leans a bit closer. “Strong,” Closer. “Men.”

His lips are practically on top of your ear now, hot breath tickling your eardrum. He smirks. “And that’s all you’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it, slick? A big strong man to take care of you, protect you...satisfy your every whim and desire.”

You can barely see straight, vision blinded by the sheer lust rolling off his tongue. He’s so damn cocky, a real alpha male type, and you were eating it up. You couldn’t wait to break him.

“I’ll have to see it to believe it, prettyboy.” You say, voice unwavering as you turn to look him directly in the eyes with a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lip. “So why don’t you go ahead and prove it, hm? I’d like to see you try.”

His jaw clenches along with his fists, body turning lurching forward slightly to the edge of the chair, now fully facing your side.

“You’re walking an awfully thin line with that trap of yours, slick. I’d watch yourself, ‘cause the folks out here won’t hesitate, like city folk do, to make an example outta brats like you.”

Your eyes don’t leave his as you lean forward a bit, challenging him right back. “Lotta big talk from you this evening, prettyboy, but no action has come to match these claims. All bark, no bite, just like everyone else in this town.”

Flip is hard as a fucking rock, erection urgently pressing against the seam of his Levi’s, but he can’t even focus on that right now. You work him up like no one else ever has before, and he’s not about to let you just leave with the last word. No, he’ll have the last word tonight if it fucking kills him.

“You wanna see some fuckin’ bite, slick?” He growls, standing up and grabbing hold of your jaw, keeping a firm grip on it. “Talk to me like that again and see what happens.”

You grin deviously, wrapping your hand around his wrist, holding it as you remove your jaw from his grip.

“Heard it all before and nobody’s gotten me just yet. You’re no different, prettyboy.”

A twenty is thrown on the tabletop and then you’re leaving.

His blood is boiling, cock twitching with excitement as he lets you walk out of the bar, letting you think you can get away with this. Then, as soon as you’re outside, he strides across the room, flings the door open, and grabs your arm.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

He walks you to the side alley and pins you to the bricks, body caging yours in. You’re breathless and defenseless against him as his wiry whiskers tickle the side of your neck. His legs spread out and his large hands grip your hips as he scoops down, grinding his arousal against your ass with one long, rough stroke.

The denim-trapped bulge presses incessantly against your backside when he stills and lights up a smoke behind you, taking a brief drag, exhaling through his nose.

“Y’know, I work hard all damn day, seven days a week, bust my fuckin’ ass to get shit done.” He stands up again, kicking your ankle so your legs spread open. You gasp softly at his brazen moves, which only fuels his arousal. “I come here to kick back a few beers and have a few cigarettes, relax, unwind…”

His hands yank your jeans down your hips suddenly, then one curls around to cup your clothed mound, lifting up against you.

“But instead of that, now, I have to bring you out here and fuck some goddamn manners into your bratty cunt before I can go back in to finish my beer.”

You can barely formulate words at the moment, his every move dripping with pure power and unwavering dominance. You’re absolutely taken by him, but that doesn’t mean you won’t fulfill your own agenda.

Let him think he’s the boss, that he’s got you wrapped around his finger. It’ll only wreck him harder in the end.

The small jingle of his belt buckle being undone brings you back to reality, as well as his fingers swiping over your clit through the material of your panties. He pulls away for a moment, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, yanking them down far enough so that he can pull his length out.

Luckily, due to his massive body size and the fact that you’re in a dark alleyway behind a dumpster, nothing is too exposed in case someone happens to come by and see the little show about to unfold.

Your panties are torn down your legs quickly and his digits swipe through your warmth. He smirks when he feels how wet you are.

“Now I can call you slick for two reasons.” He chuckles darkly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I knew you liked this, dirty girl. Bet you’ve been wet all night since I came into the bar.”

His fingers trace over your clit, pressure on and off with his lazy circles, and within seconds he’s got you gyrating against him. Then, suddenly, he pulls away and steps back, hand on your shoulder. He flips you around quickly so that you’re facing him, then forces you back against the wall, flicking his abandoned cigarette away onto the black pavement.

“Why’d you turn me around?” You ask nonchalantly.

He smears some of your fresh arousal onto the tip of his cock, moving it around over his girthy length while his fingers force themselves into your mouth, grabbing and pressing on your tongue.

“I decided that I wanna ruin your disobedient little mouth first. On your knees, use my boots as padding if you need.”

Your legs close and you cross them at the ankle, leaning back against the brick wall freely, arms crossed over your chest. His eyebrows raise and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“Did you not hear me or something?” Flip asks, voice low. “On your damn knees, slick, or I’ll put you there myself.”

Silence. You don’t move a muscle, watching the frustration fester. He leans in suddenly, face real close.

“I’m gonna give you one last chance to do as I say before I force you down.”

Nothing.

His hand wraps in your prettily-done hair, holding the roots just above scalp-level, yanking harshly. He steps back a bit quickly as you cry out, hand on your shoulder, pushing you down as the shock and pain weakens your knees.

Your knees rest on his work boots and his impressive arousal is lip-level, now. He loosens his grip on your hair ever so slightly, still holding you firmly as he rubs his head over your cherry red lips.

“Don’t make me take this from you too, slick.” He warns.

You offer him a cheeky, close-mouthed smile, batting your eyelashes teasingly. He snarls, pulling your hair again, and when you yelp in pain, he pushes his hips forward. His cock forces itself into your mouth and your eyes widen, choking immediately at the sudden intrusion.

Flip’s head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut as your throat contracts around his length. He holds your head, keeping your mouth wrapped around him, and he gives you a quick look of concern, breaking character for a moment.

Once you give him a quick wink and small smile, indicating that everything’s okay, he draws back before pushing forward again. He establishes a consistent back-and-forth rhythm, grunting softly with each thrust of his hips. You’re taking him so well, better than anyone before. Your choking and gagging has essentially ceased within the first minute or so, the quickest recovery Flip has ever experienced.

Look, he knows he’s got a nice cock, there’s no denying it, especially when he’s got women chanting it in his ear on a weekly basis. It’s long and girthy with a slight upward curve that gives him the ability to hit the g-spot almost every time. Plus, he knows how to use it properly.

But, women often have trouble taking him or making him feel good with oral sex because he’s always concerned that he’s genuinely hurting them. A lot of women are also very intimidated by his size, which doesn’t help him in feeling okay about it.

You, however, didn’t say a word, give it a concerned look, or hesitate even a bit when he put you on your knees. You’re something else.

He groans, fucking your mouth even harder, hands on the sides of your head. Your eyes are watering and tears have already begun spilling down your cheeks, but you’re not complaining in the slightest. He looks so incredible like this, restrain and composure slipping as the pleasure begins to consume him.

You do your best to establish a bit of suction on his length, and when a guttural growl emerges from above you, you know you’ve done it. His hips lose their rhythm soon after, cock throbbing in your mouth, meaning he’s close.

He’s panting heavily, spine curling as he fucks your mouth harder, shuddering every once and a while from the sheer amounts of lust coursing through his veins.

Just before his release, he forces himself to pull away, a strangled groan of agony rumbling through his chest as his shaft bobs angrily at the lost orgasm.

“Christ!”

You catch your breath for a moment, but that moment is brief because within thirty seconds, he’s got his hand wrapped around your jaw.

“S-S…” He takes a second to compose himself. “Stand up, turn around, take your panties off and spread your fucking legs.”

This time, much to his surprise, you obey, getting into position with little resistance. He smirks, giving your ass a quick swat before rubbing his head through your folds.

“Mmm, shit, you got wetter just from having your face fucked?”

His chin digs into your shoulder as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes in quickly with a long, low groan, then settles inside of you to allow for an adjustment period.

Your eyes go wide and you whimper, walls stretching out to accommodate the large intrusion. Soon, you move your hips a bit, looking over your shoulder.

“You can m-move.”

Flip nods, drawing back before pressing his hips forward again, sighing through his nose as he picks up a steady thrusting rhythm.

“Fuck you’ve got a good little cunt, wrapped around me so goddamn tight.” He growls in your ear, mouth lazily kissing and nipping at your neck.

The burn of being stretched out subsides soon after he begins, replaced with copious amounts of pleasure, jaw slacked as your body jolts back and forth with each powerful movement.

“I can feel you clenching around me, slut...I know you like this. I wanna hear you fucking admit it.” He breathes. “Tell me how good I’m making you--fuck--feel. Tell me how much better my cock feels fucking you than any--goddamnit--other f-fuckin’ city slicker’s cock.”

When he doesn’t get a response, his pace suddenly quickens a bit and one of his hands comes up to wrap around your throat, squeezing experimentally. “Say it, slick, admit it!”

“Y-You, you feel...okay.”

You smirk, eyes squeezing shut when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

Flip huffs. “You’re a fucking brat--god fucking damnit.”

He snarls, hand closing tighter around your neck, lips right up against your ear.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ destroy you, slick. I’m gonna fuck your tight cunt so hard and stuff you so fucking full of my cum, make it run down your fucking thighs when you go home. You’re gonna have to walk into your fuckin’ house with my cum leaking out of you like the dirty slut you are.”

A loud whine comes from your lips, goosebumps spreading like wildfire over your skin at his words. You’re close already, the anticipation and sensations too much to hold off much longer.

“I know you’re lying, slick, I know you love this fucking cock, and I know you’re close. Say it, say it and I’ll make you cum so fucking hard you can’t see straight for the rest of the night.”

He growls into your ear, panting heavily.

“All you gotta do is--shit--say it and I’ll give you what you want, what we both know you want.”

Your walls clench and pulse around his shaft, preparing for your approaching orgasm. But, even though the temptation is sweet, you hold out.

“Eh, I’ve h-had better. You’re really--oh--not t-that big, prettyboy.”

“Fuck!”

His reaction is exactly what you were looking for, hips thrusting impossibly quick as his hands grab your wrists and pin your hands behind your back. Part of him liked this, being called ‘small’ and being taunted, although he’d never admit it to anyone.

“It’s your fucking loss, slick.”

“Oh, is it?” You smirk, adjusting your hips subtly until you find the right spot, crying out softly as you teeter on the edge of orgasm. “I don’t t-think so--fuck!”

“NO! Goddamnit, f-fuck...NO!” He tries to stop your climax, but it’s too late, you’re already there.

“Y-Yes, fuck...yes!”

You’re trembling as you ride out your intense high, his hips pumping you into a delicious overstimulation.

Your release gushes out around him and Flip feels his own climax rapidly approaching, hips starting to lose their rhythm.

Flip’s absolutely pissed that you made yourself cum, allowing his frustration to fuel his thrusts. His teeth sink into the muscle on the curve of your neck, drilling into you as hard as he can manage.

“Brat!”

He snarls against your skin.

“You’re a fucking d-dirty, filthy--yeah, so fuckin’ tight--naughty brat! O-Oh fuck, shit, gonna--fuck goddamnit--cum…”

“Are you gonna cum? Fill me up, prettyboy?”

You clench around him one more time, bringing him over the edge.

“Oh f-fuck, yes, gonna--unnhh!”

Being fully prepared to bury his load deep inside you, fill you up, it took him by great surprise when you suddenly pulled him out of you. His eyes fly open and a choked cry leaves his lips.

“FUCK, N-NO!”

He roars, load erupting out onto the bricks and alleyway pavement instead of inside you. His hips rut forward instinctively as he rides out his high, groaning against your skin.

You smirk, slipping out from beneath his grip, pulling your panties back up over your hips. He’s still panting and recovering from his climax, hands spread on the cool brick of the building, eyes catching sight of his seed dripping down the wall as he redresses.

Before you walk away, you run a hand through his silky black mane. You give it a gentle tug, earning a low growl from the handsome man.

“Told ya, no one’s gotten me yet and no one ever will.” You pat his cheek, giving him a soft smile. “Have a good rest of your night, prettyboy.”

You’re quickly overtaken, within the first few steps of walking back towards the front entrance, by a large set of hands. Flip turns you around in his arms and crashes his lips on yours, pulling you close to him.

At first, you’re taken by surprise, but that lasts for only a few seconds before you melt into his touch, melding your lips with his. He pulls away a minute later, a big smug smirk stretched across his face.

“Good night, slick.”

He walks back towards the side door, lighting a cigarette on his way, leaving you frozen in suspension for a moment. Every inch of your skin, every fiber of your being, is buzzing. You find yourself unable to wipe the small smile off your face as you walk back towards the front of the bar.

You look through the window of the bar as you slip your leather jacket on, then your helmet before swinging your leg over your bike. The engine rumbles, ground quaking beneath it as you pull out of the parking lot and onto the freeway, wind whipping around your body as you disappear into the cool Colorado night.

Flip is drunk on you as he pays for his drinks and stubs his cigarette out in the plastic ashtray on the bar. The damn bastard’s essentially grinning and giggling with joy as he walks back out to his truck, or at least ‘grinning and giggling’ by Flip’s standards, which pretty much just means a small smile.

It’s quickly wiped from his face when he sees Ron in the passenger seat. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Ron was listening the whole time, and he can only hope that his partner took the headphones off before anything too explicit happened.

He hops up into the cab and immediately, Ron begins chuckling to himself.

“Oh, shut up.”

He says, frowning as he backs out of the parking lot.

“I hope you took the headphones off.”

“So, did you find out anything about The Angels?”

Ron asks, snickering.

“Or did you focus on learning more about the inside of her mouth?”

Flip growls under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“Can it, rookie. We’ll go back tomorrow. And, for the record, I cased the joint when I walked in, and there were no bikers in sight. No one that seemed the type, y’know?”

“Well, the bikes were there. They had to be there, right?”

His jaw clenches, kicking himself for losing focus. Although, he doesn’t exactly regret anything he did with you, he just wishes he had worked the case a bit beforehand.

“They should’ve been there, but I’m telling you, there was no one.”

Ron gives him a look and Flip shakes his head.

“Look, I know what it looks like, but I’m serious. I cased the joint when I went in, and there was no one even close to the basic look of a biker gang.”

His partner sighs.

“I know, and I trust you, Zimmerman. We’ll go back tomorrow, like you said. We should go a bit earlier, maybe try and catch these bikers coming to the bar.”

“Agreed.”

Flip nods as he pulls back into the station, sighing when he puts the truck in park.

“Alright, let’s go report to the Chief.”

The Next Day

It’s another long ass day at the station, although there was a bit of excitement when the Chief went out to his squad car and found the window busted out.

Everyone chuckled to themselves as he flipped his shit, almost as if he’d temporarily forgotten that he was a police chief.

Flip and Ron went out to lunch at the local diner, discussing the ‘Angels’ case, and of course Flip’s back-alley hookup last night, much to the detective’s dismay.

He just resorted to sucking down as many cigarettes as he could while Ron fired off questions, hoping the nicotine buzz would get him through this all quicker. It didn’t.

Finally, with the Chief’s approval, Ron and Flip head out at five to Ace’s in hopes of spotting The Angels as they come to the bar.

Luckily, when they reach the bar, there are no motorcycles in sight. Flip backs the truck into a spot facing where the motorcycles were last night, putting it in park before lighting up a smoke. He and Ron pass the time with some casual chit-chat before the telltale rumble of motorcycle engines.

The first bike comes into view, the leader no doubt, and slowly rolls up to the front of the bar, foot planting on the pavement. There’s something so oddly familiar about this leader to Flip, the way they move, their demeanor in general, but he thinks little of it, determined to actually focus on the case this time.

Once the whole gang has pulled up, Flip grabs his notepad and a pencil, ready to write down the names on their jackets while Ron pulls out his camera. The bikers' engines all shut off almost simultaneously, pavement settling back into the dirt as they all dismount their bikes.

Flip looks at all the names on their jackets, each beginning with ‘Saint’, writing all five of them down before pausing when he reaches the leader’s jacket. It read ‘Saint Siren’, glitter-infused stitching catching in the evening sunset.

No, it can’t be.

Saint Siren reaches up to pull their helmet off, and when they do, Flip is stunned into utter and total silence. It’s you...you’re Saint Siren.

You're the leader of ‘The Angels’.

Ron’s snapping a bunch of pictures as the rest of the gang takes their helmets off, revealing the women beneath each. Both detectives were surprised to see that ‘The Angels’ were all women, considering the general ‘man-ness’ of biker gangs.

Your hair flutters in the gentle breeze as you hang your helmet on the handlebar of your bike, reaching into your jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter, hand shielding the flame from the gentle breeze.

“Zimmerman?”

Flip faintly hears his partner say, but he doesn’t process it, too focused on the reality hitting.

“Zimmerman!” Ron says, shaking his partner’s arm.

“What’s the matter with you?”

His eyes dart over to Ron, a serious expression etched on his face.

“That’s her. That’s the girl from last night.”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fuckin’ sure!” He snarls. “I only spent all night with her. I’m not that shallow, rookie.”

Ron stifles a laugh. “Uh huh. Well, now we understand why no one could ever figure out who this gang was. No one would ever suspect women to be bikers, much less in a biker gang.”

Your jacket is taken off and draped neatly over the seat of your bike, and Flip quickly tosses his notebook on the dash, clipping the lauve to his undershirt with a sense of urgency. His face is steadily turning redder the more he thinks about it, and Ron can almost see the smoke coming from his ears. He’d be whistling like a damn tea kettle if that were true.

“What are you gonna do when you get in there? Remember what the Chief wants, intel only.”

Flip huffs, buttoning his flannel back up before flicking on the microphone set on the front seat, tapping the top of the machine. “I know how to do my damn job, I know what Chief said. Just be sure to listen and write the important stuff down.”

He hops down, the heels of his work boots reverberating off the pavement as he walks, more like storms, into the bar.

Earl, the bartender, greets him, but he’s already closing in on you. He doesn’t even hesitate, just walking right up to the table you’re sitting at and putting his hand on the top.

“Can I speak with you a minute?” He says in the calmest voice he can muster at this point, staring daggers at you, teeth gritted. “Please?”

All the girls look up at him, then back over at you, awaiting your answer. You stub out the cigarette between your lips before gesturing for Gladys to scoot out of the booth. She does, and you slide out, standing in front of the familiar man.

“Lead the way, Flip.”

He spins around on his heel, then stops, stomach dropping. How do you know that name?

You giggle to yourself as you walk by and out to the alley. He’s hot on your tail, slamming the door shut behind him, bounding down the stairs.

“I figured it out pretty quickly.” You say, twirling your hair as you lean back against the wall, arms crossed in front of you. “After I saw the mic clipped to your undershirt last night. Looked through the yellow pages this morning and found the contact information for one Detective Phillip Zimmerman of the Colorado Springs Police Department. There’s only one other man by the name of Phillip living in this town, and he’s the guy down at the gas station.”

“Could’ve been a fake name.”

Your lips curl up into a smirk. “Yeah, coulda been a fake name, I guess. But I saw the way you reacted when you said it, looked like you wanted to kick yourself in the nutsack. The mic on your shirt tied it all together, and then when I did some surveillance on the station, I saw you.”

Flip isn’t sure if he’s more nervous or impressed by your ability to observe and fact-find.

“I’m not the only one that hid my true identity last night, Saint Siren. Nor are you the only one that did surveillance today.” He growls, standing in front of you. “You’re one of the ‘Angels’, the leader, in fact.”

Your face is unchanging, still wearing a neutral expression, before a small smirk tugs at your lips.

“Congratulations, Detective. I’m a little surprised you didn’t put two-and-two together last night when you read the name on my jacket.”

His eyes widen, which makes you laugh. Had your name really been on the jacket that he’d seen, and he just missed it?

“Saw you not so discreetly snooping around the bikes before you came in last night. You ought to check your surroundings a little more thoroughly before ‘casually’ sauntering by the bikes and leaning over to read the jackets...someone might see you.”

You laugh quietly, shoving your hands into your jean pockets.

He’s pissed, you can tell, but there’s also a sense of respect buried deep within his gaze, and perhaps there’s even a bit of desire mixed in, too.

“I...you’re…”

Suddenly, an idea pops into his head, and the rage suddenly melts away. He could use this to his advantage.

“Join me.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you look up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. Think about it, it’s beneficial for both of us. You want to knock the Sharks on their asses and kick ‘em outta town, and I want to stop them from taking over the whole town. We both get what we want.”

You just burst out into laughter. “You’re a funny guy, Detective, thinking I’d ever even consider becoming an informant. Ha! Sure, I hate the Sharks and I wanna kick ‘em out, but I don’t need the pig’s help for that.”

His jaw clenches.

“You’re trying to turn her now, Zimmerman? What the hell are you thinking? INTEL, Zimmerman, we’re here for ANGELS INTEL, not the Sharks.”

He shakes off his partner’s words, staring deep into your eyes.

“You know this is a good idea, I know you do, slick. All we need are some names. It’ll be quick work, and in return, we’ll help you get rid of them and stay off your ass after they’re gone, as long as you don’t start or engage in any violent altercations.”

“Man, you gotta stop. You can’t make promises like that without the Chief’s approval. C’mon, Zimmerman, get outta there!”

“I’m not falling for that bullshit, and I’m not becoming a pig, even if it’s only for a few weeks.” You say, pushing off the wall and standing up straight. “G’night, Detective.”

Flip quickly grabs you before you can even take a step back towards the door, holding your arms as he steps up behind you.

“I never say things I don’t mean, and I never make promises I can’t keep, slick.”

He grabs one of his business cards out from his wallet, teasingly sliding it in your back pocket, giving your ass a quick squeeze. “In case you change your mind.”

Your skin has erupted in goosebumps as you walk back into the bar, overly conscious of the business card tucked into your back pocket, gently poking your bottom with each stride.

As you sit with your crew, drinking and chatting the night away, you can’t stop thinking about this proposal.

The thought of being an informant scares you. The thought of turning on the Sharks scares you.

What scares you the most, though?

You’re ready to get to work.

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harry-styles-sunflower · 4 years

Text

Last Christmas

a/n: Pure fluff, some cursing, 3k, thats all :) Please reblog and let me know what you think!

You were walking down the sidewalk holding your trench coat tightly to your body. You made it to Johnny's Club and you pulled the heavy door open.

"Jeez," you sighed. You shook off your coat and walked to the coat room. You hung it up and took your phone out from its pocket. You turned and grabbed one of the aprons and put it on tying a knot behind your back. You slid your phone in one of the pockets and shoved your other two pockets with straws and a towel. You walked down the hallway and then behind the bar.

"Hey Matt," you said as you clocked in to your job.

"Hey y/n, what's up? Cold out?" he asked as he wiped the counter.

"Freezing, it's just going to get worse. How many people have come in?" you faced him.

"About 5 maybe?" he reorganized all the bottles on shelves, "Could have been 4," he shrugged.

"I don’t know why Johnny's making us work tonight, its Christmas Eve. Everyone is either travelling or with their families," you sighed and leaned against the counter.

"Yeah I don't really get it either," he stood next to you.

"At least you get to go home to Abby," you nudge him with your shoulder.

"Wouldn't really want you to be here alone though," he nudged you back.

"I'll be fine, I can hold my own. I'll grab my pepper spray before you go," you grab your towel from your pocket and lightly whip his knee with it.

"Okay," he laughs and goes into the back to do inventory.

Few hours later, Matt was gone and you were bored on your phone. The club was empty and the you played Christmas music through the speakers. You mumbled the lyrics to frosty the snowman and checked the time.

10 PM already. Great. Just 4 more hours. You checked your Twitter and saw people talking about 2016 being "the year" so you got off. Who can predict that stuff anyway. "Do they know its Christmas?" began playing and it was one of your favorites. You grabbed a bottle of bourbon and began using it as a mic.

"Its Christmas time, there's no need to be afraid," you sang. You spun around and lifted your hand up to the sky.

"At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish," when you spun you were shocked to see a male silhouette watching you, so you couldn’t help scream 'Shade'.

"Hi sorry I didn’t see you there," you said quickly.

"Sorry about that," he said as he came more into the light. He had long brown hair, sharp facial features, and bright green eyes.

"It's okay," you turned around to lower the music slightly, "What could I get you to drink?" you turned back around to face him. You placed a napkin in front of him as he shrugged off his coat.

"Um Tequila, with ice," he said slowly. You nodded and got a small glass. You opened the freezer to scoop the ice and when you did you placed the cubes in his cup.

"Brand of choice?" you asked.

"No, surprise me," he smiled. You nodded and poured some 1800. "Thank you," he smiled again.

"No problem," you smiled back. You turned around and pretended to organize the shelf as you watched your customer through the mirror behind the display shelves. He was staring into his drink deep in thought. He had an accent, sounded British. Maybe feeling homesick on a night like this. He took a sip of his drink before pulling his hair up into a bun. You could see his face slightly better and he was handsome. Very handsome. You turned to face him and wiped your hands with your towel.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Yes thank you," he looked at you and then around the club, "What did you do to be the only one working tonight?" he grinned.

"Um, not sure honestly. Might've been telling my boss he should've given us a Christmas bonus." you shrugged. He laughed lightly and it was beautiful. Appearance wise and sound wise.

"The performance you were giving when I walked in should count as entertainment so I'd say you deserve the bonus," he smirked behind his glass.

"Thank you," you giggled and then blushed because the giggle was embarrassing.

"Join me for a drink will you?" he bit his lip.

"Um I shouldn't" you shook your head.

"Not even a club soda?" he stirred the liquid in his glass.

"Okay," you grabbed yourself a glass and poured some seltzer inside. You walked in front of the bar and settled on a stool next to him.

"So.. You're obviously not originally from New York, but is it your home?"

"Um no, I'm on break and I thought Christmas in New York could be fun to do alone after 5 years of not being alone. But it's actually very lonely," he takes a swig of his drink and you watched him as he spoke. The way his lips pursed with certain words and the way his face scrunched slightly at the burn of the tequila.

"Did you just get out of a relationship or something?" you ask. He turns his stool to face you with his eyebrows furrowed. It was as if the wheels in his head were turning behind his green eyes. You had no idea who he was or you were a great actress.

"Harry," he stuck his hand out for you to shake, "and no, no relationship. I spent five years working and now I am on uh sabbatical," he smiled charmingly. You shook his hand and nodded along to his words.

"I'm y/n," you smiled.

It was nearing 11:30 PM and you were laughing so hard you were tearing up.

"Okay okay, what does a dentist do when he gets on a rollercoaster?" you asked him.

"What?" he giggled.

"He braces himself!" you burst into laughter and so does Harry.

"Wait wait, doesn't an orthodontist deal with braces?" you stopped suddenly and put on your best poker face. He cracked a smile and you couldn’t help it. You broke one too. Jingle Bell Rock came on and you couldn’t help but get up and go to the dance floor.

"Come on, come here!" you grabbed his hand and pulled him off his stool. "Do you know the mean girls dance?"

"Barely, it goes like this?" he put his hand up and swung his hips dramatically. You laughed and sang along to the song.

"Don't forget to slap your thighs," you show him and he copies your move. The song soon ends and you hear the familiar tune of 'Last Christmas'.

"I love this song, it's my favorite, you whispered.

"Would you like to dance?" he offered his hand. You looked at his long slender fingers that were covered by a few rings. You took his hand and he pulled you closer. He placed his hand on the small of your back.

Ah, aha

Ooh

"I like your rings," you say as you look over at your hand in his.

"Want one?"

"Do you just give your rings out to anyone like that?" you laughed lightly.

"No, but you’ve been very kind to me tonight. You can take it as a Christmas present," you nodded along and continued dancing to the music.

Once bitten and twice shy

I keep my distance

But you still catch my eye

Tell me, baby

Do you recognize me?

You could hear him singing the music quietly. You detach your hand from his and intertwine your own behind his neck.

"You have a nice voice," you tell him.

"Funny you say that," he smiles. His dimples were very cute.

"Funny how?" you ask.

"Nothing," he shook his head, "I didn’t think this was how I was going to spend my Christmas Eve but I'm glad I am," he said. You tried to hide your blush and you mumbled a 'me too'.

Face on a lover with a fire in his heart (I gave you my heart)

A man under cover but you tore him apart

Maybe next year, I'll give it to someone

I'll give it to someone special (special, someone)

The song ended and you looked up at him. His face was only inches away from yours and you could feel his breath fan your face. You both leaned in but jumped back when Usher's 'Yeah!' came on. You ran your fingers through your hair with one hand and placed your hand over your heart with your other.

"Sorry," you laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'm not," you felt his hands grab the sides of your cheeks and his lips on yours. You kissed him back and placed your hands over his lightly. When he pulled away, you had a blissful smile on your lips.

"I'll take your 'peace' ring," you smile. He kissed you again and smiled into the kiss.

"Here you go," he slid the ring off his finger and put it in your palm.

"Thanks," you held it in between your forefinger and thumb. You slid it onto your thumb, the only finger it fit. His phone began ringing and he excused himself to answer. From what you could hear he was speaking to someone named Jeff and he was late to a party. You cleaned up the bar and put the glasses away. When he hung up the phone, he walked over to the bar with a guilty look on his face.

"So my boss wants me to go to his Christmas party," he frowned.

"Oh, okay. Have fun," you smiled. Fake smiled to be exact. You didn’t want him to go just yet.

"Can I get your number? Call you sometime maybe?" he asked and your heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah! I mean yeah sure," you shrugged. He walked behind the bar and lifted your chin with his finger.

"No need to try and play it cool," he kissed your forehead. You looked down and blushed. You grabbed a napkin and wrote your number on it as he put his coat on. You walked over when you finished writing on it and tucked into his coat's pocket.

"Thank you for my present, my number will be your present," you giggled.

"Sounds lovely," he kissed your lips before leaving. You sighed and wiped down the bar before closing up. Hopefully you could make up an hour another day, you needed to go home and close early.

After Harry left the bar and waited for a taxi, a man next to him sneezed into his hands.

"Damn allergies," he said.

"I know the feeling mate," Harry replied. The man sneezed again, this time in need of a tissue.

"Here mate," he handed him the napkin he felt in his pocket. Without a second thought. That was the kind of person Harry was.

"Thank you," he said before Harry caught a cab and got in. When he reached into his pocket to get your number the realization hit that he gave the napkin to the man. When he called the bar with the number he found on Google it said the bar was now closed.

"Fuck!" you yell at your rental car. You were currently at a gas station or as the English say, 'the petro station,' and you were trying to refill a tire. But it kept emptying. You were the only one at the gas station until a black Range Rover joined you. You decided to travel to England for the holidays since your family decided to vacation to China without you. You were getting cold and it was Christmas eve. You just wanted to get back to the small cottage you were staying in. You walked into the shop and headed for the snack aisle. The end of 'santa baby' played over the speakers in the store. You surfed the options on the shelves and grabbed a few chips (crisps) and searched for some sweets. Next song to play was 'last Christmas' and you accidentally groaned aloud. The song had been ruined for you ever since you met Harry 5 years ago and he never called. Typical musician which you came to find out. The guy behind you laughed lightly before speaking,

"Don't like this song?" he asked. You turned around with your snacks in hand.

"Bad memory goes a long with it," when the man turns around your shocked to see who it is and he's just as shocked to see you.

"YOU!" you practically yell.

"Let me I can explain," he holds his hands up in defense.

"I don’t want one!" you walk away.

"Wait! Please, I promise I'll tell you the truth." he says. Okay realistically you had no where to go before the tow truck came.

"Fine," you cross your arms.

"Well I can't believe our paths have crossed again," he smiles. You don’t. "Um well okay. So after I left that night, I accidentally gave this guy my napkin because he sneezed and I realized too late. I know it's a rubbish excuse but it’s the truth. Oh I also tried calling the bar that night and you already had closed and then when I called again the person on the phone said you were busy and I just didn't know if that was an excuse or not. I guess you've figured out who I am by now too.." he drifted off.

"I do and your excuse sounds very unrealistic," you sigh.

"It's the truth, pinky promise," he holds a pinky up. You squint your eyes at him before joining your pinky with his and huffing 'fine'.

"How come you're in England?"

"Vacationing," you stare at him slightly. "You cut your hair," you remembered it was long last time you saw each other. He ran his hand through his shorter curls and nodded.

"Yeah um cut it a few months after we met, would you want to grab a bite?" he pinched his lip between his fingers. He was still handsome as ever.

"Okay, my car actually has a flat tire.."

"We’ll use my car," he smiled at you.

When you got to his car it smelled like him. You felt slightly uncomfortable with this blast of the past coming back into your life. Especially so handsome. He began driving on a road you’ve never been on and you watched the houses pass through your window.

"So, you must know everything now," he sighed, "I enjoyed that you didn’t," he drove with one hand, his left entangled in his hair.

"That's a full of it assumption. I've heard your music and that you went out with Camille Rowe that’s all," you shrugged, "I can't believe you were in this famous pop band for 5 years and I had no clue," you laughed.

"So maybe not everything..good," you noticed he was hiding a smile. Or at least trying to. He kept driving for about a half hour before pulling into a driveway.

"Um you said we were going to grab a bite?"

"It's Christmas Eve everything is closed, I promise I'm not going to kill you," he smiled.

"Very convincing," you sighed. You stepped out of the car and followed him up the steps to his house.

"Fancy a grilled cheese?" he looked behind his shoulder and grinned.

"Sure," you took off your shoes and followed him to his kitchen. His house was huge but neat. It was modern and very bachelor like. Yet cozy and warm. You settled on one of his stools at his kitchen counter while he turned on the fireplace. When he made his way over to his stove and heated up a pan, he grabbed the bread bag and pulled 4 slices.

"So catch me up," he smiled.

"Um well. I've been working. Running an Etsy shop. Just made custom sweaters and such.. I quit the club a few months after we met. Found out I kissed Harry Styles. Otherwise I lead a very boring life.” You laugh.

“I did think of you these past 5 years, don’t think I didn’t. I wondered what you were doing and if you were okay. If you had found out who I was. If you’d come to one of my shows,” he said as he cooked.

"I didn’t think you thought that way of me," you say honestly.

"I did, still do. I've had a 5 year long crush," he blushes. You shake your head and call bs on his claim.

"It’s the truth. But I'm glad to know you don’t feel the same," he sighed before serving you your sandwich. You got up and walked around his counter and watched as he moved to grab you a cup.

"Who said I didn't still have a crush? I still have your ring in my jewelry box crying out loud," you laughed and rubbed your head embarrassed.

"You do?" he smiled brightly. You nodded and walked towards him. You pulled him by the end of his shirt and grabbed his cheeks to pull him down for a kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist lifting you off your feet. You wrapped your legs around his waist before he placed you on the counter. You kissed him for a bit more before pulling away.

"I am hungry though," he laughed and his breath hit your face in a familiar way that made you smile.

"Okay," he kissed your cheek before handing you your plate and smiled as he saw your eyes widen once you took a bite.

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