#the cat who wore sunglasses

[swampflix]

The Cassandra Cat (1963) 

One of the sharpest reminders that the Internet is not real life that I’ve gotten recently was the sparse attendance at a local screening of The Cassandra Cat.  Also distributed under the English titles When the Cat Comes and That Cat, The Cassandra Cat is best known (to me) as the subject of a viral tweet, recommended by a film student whose Czech professor bragged about making a movie about a…

[unclecanker]

the Czech movie of the cat who wore sunglasses is already turning out to be a gem

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[depresssant]

'it's an american wedding. they don't mean too much. we were so in love.'

yandere!gojo x reader

synopsis : a simple senior year predicament landed you in a cage you were sure was bound to drive you insane.

it was always survival over luxury for you

amongst the rich kids, you were like a penny in a pile of a hundred dollar bills. seeing people with expensive cars and brand clothes that probably cost thousands of dollars never really mattered to you. you came from a very poor background and it never really mattered to you because there was nothing wrong with being poor. you really couldn't care less since some people were just unlucky. like you.

however, you didn't know what you were doing in a place like this.

everybody deserved the chance to climb out of poverty to live a good life. that was a belief you held onto firmly because it was the only thing that you kept you going, but you did not belong in an estate like this.

but now here you were, and you couldn't regret it more than you did right now.

"what the hell, satoru?"

the bane of your existence tilted his head and furrowed his brows in that manner that captured the hearts of everyone. if only they saw. if only they knew. if only they realized who this wolf in sheep's clothing truly was⏤that this persona of a kind, cheerful, and loving guy everybody knew and loved wasn't who he truly was. he was the devil walking amongst humans, and he was fooling them all.

"what?" he asked all innocently with his teasing grin and flirty eyes that finally weren't hidden behind those sunglasses that he wore everywhere.

"dinner with my mom? what the hell is wrong with you?"

"she invited me over, babe. what was i supposed to do? reject her offer?"

gosh, he was insufferable. he knew exactly what he was doing, but didn't want to admit it. the idea of his new, profound actions had made that pit of unease which settled in your stomach grow with each little skin-crawling thing he did.

this wolf sauntered around helpless sheep, picking them out one by one until he reached his prey. you. the thing was, you didn't know why he was so fixated on you.

that was the worse part.

he was out to get you, and you couldn't do anything but wait.

and satoru had now picked out your mother.

"leave her alone! she's got nothing to do with this!" you hissed out like a feral cat, but you were good at controlling your emotions. this rolling stone just managed to bring out the worst in you⏤the ugly you didn't know existed.

satoru laughed and wrapped his arms around you in a suffocating hug as he smothered himself into the crook of your neck. "relax." his arms tightened the second you tried to move around. it was a warning. "is it wrong for me to meet my wife's mom? besides, your mom is an amazing cook. i can see where you got your skills from."

your mom.

the three days since you hadn't seen her felt like an eternity. was she worried? was she lonely? was she concerned about this “friend” you were having a sleepover with? considering your history, you wouldn't be surprised if she tore up the entire neighborhood looking for you before you were finally allowed to message her.

satoru's attention on you was like working a full time job in which you only clocked out when you fell asleep. even then, he found ways to ruin it for you, either with his helicopter behavior or die hard need to be touching you every second of the day.

your silence was something he didn't like, so he squeezed your body under his hold. that was enough of a threat. holding back a sigh, you reluctantly returned to running your fingers through his silky, pure snow-colored hair that surrounded his beautiful face like a halo. how could a person this beautiful be so vile?

if only you could save your mother from his poisonous claws.

"you know, your mother told me a few things about you."

"... what did she say?"

his sapphire blue eyes flicked up to stare into your eyes, and time came to a standstill when he smiled. he smiled like an angel but loved like the devil. if the devil could even love. you didn't want to admit that every time you looked into his eyes, your breath halted like the world around you. it went against your deep-rooted hate for him, but you'd be damned if you didn't crumble like ash when he set you on fire with his mere gaze.

satoru explained how your mother gushed and ranted on about how hard-working you were, how you were kind and caring, and how you needed a partner who would support you when times got difficult. he teased you about baby pictures of you, and you questioned whether this really was the same scrawny guy you saved from a bunch of bullies.

back then, he looked completely different from how he did right now. he wasn't some hot jock with a body that girls fan-girled over, no. he was a tall and scrawny kid with broken glasses, a busted lip, and bruises that told you he was clearly being bullied by his peers.

that fateful summer day, you were just taking a stroll through the neighborhood when he came tumbling towards you with four kids you knew all too well. ordering satoru to get behind you, you had beaten the crap out of everyone of those guys and patched him up at your home before walking him all the way back to his house.

he had vowed to meet you again, and well, he had done it.

that kid was so much more different than the guy you knew now, and you would be lying if you said you didn't feel a little solemn about it. he had changed for the worse. you should've know that when he made another appearance in your life. those four guys had disappeared.

satoru just followed you around like a bubbly guy trying to rope a grumpy and moody girl into a friendship, but you could do nothing but regret it now. he tailed you around to get evidence of you and your illegal “activities”. to threaten you.

you wished you never even saved him from those bullies that day. the thing was that you got into tussle with the police quite a lot. you got into fights a lot and had landed up in jail for the fifth time before getting released on probation. the deal was three strikes and you would land up in the slammer permanently. you were two strikes in when satoru got a video of you in a fight...

he used it to threaten you.

that was three months into school, and he had wound up with you in an abandoned warehouse near the place holding a party where the two of you were. he proposed his deal leading to you nearly going ballistic, but those three digits dialing the police were enough to make you settle down. 

satoru's deal was simple. if you became his girlfriend, then he wouldn't show the video to the police.

typical rich kid shit.

of course, he would use any means to get what he wanted. you were no exception.

reluctantly so, you accepted, and the seven month of agony begun. the smothering touches, the constant need to be near you, the controlling and obsessive behavior, the��tracker in your phone? he was batshit insane!

you were a very patient person, though. rumors and history stated that most of his girlfriends lasted a maximum of a month before he got bored, so you waited. you waited, waited, waited, and waited! that was your fatal mistake.

how stupid of you.

one evening before prom changed it all.

the cool autumn breeze of the california evening blew at your loose strands of hair, the large palm trees casted shadows that fell down the lukewarm sand of the beach as clear and sparkly waves running along the orange and pink horizon crashed upon the shores, singing a faint tale of time.

"marry me."

staring at that blue diamond encased in a gold ring decorated with silver, you couldn't have helped but feel like chains had begun to wrap around you like boa snakes... slowly beginning to squeeze the life out of you.

satoru's eyes were bright and glowing like the colors of the diamond, and they looked up at you sinisterly with that grin that seemed to make the entire world fall apart around you. 

"we'll go to the courthouse tomorrow. who gives a damn about the elders?" his voice was pleading, but there it was. that tone. he spoke like he was stating. not pleading. "we'll have an american wedding."

and an american funeral.

for when he put the ring on your finger, you died.

...

the sun set, and you looked at the snake wrapped around your ring finger. it glimmered under the dim light of the bedroom like the glowing eyes of a predator staring from the shadows. 'you two were so in love with each other that it had driven the both of you insane!' satoru had claimed, but maybe...

maybe it was just you who had gone insane.

[connorsbonez]

Stalkers and Cryptids

Meeting the Bat Family

1. Danny

Since him and Wes got together with Tim at the same-ish time, it was decided that they’d get introduced to the family one at a time before going together, and for some reason, Danny got chosen to be the first to go.

It went surprisingly well! The siblings loved him (at least, they think Damien does, maybe Danny will have to convince him through the means of Cujo) and it took Bruce a moment but he came around

Duke thought Tim managed to bring the personified sun into the house at first before realizing ‘oh, it’s a person’ and switched to ‘what the fuck is up with you’, pulling out some sunglasses before asking Danny who straight faced told Duke that he ate a lot of glow sticks as a kid.

Duke asked what they tasted like.

Cass and Danny stared at each other for five minutes before nodding and continuing on like nothing happened.

Steph and Danny had to be physically separated and it was agreed to never leave those two alone. No matter the circumstances. Tim is terrified and rightfully so.

So everything was going pretty great.

And then dinner happened.

Fenton Curse reared its ugly head in the form of Danny accidentally touching the chicken with his bare hands. He barely got in an apology before the chicken jolted upwards in vengeful fury and dragged everyone into a recreation of the Cold War. Food was splattered on everything and everyone, the table was flipped to the side in an effort to be used as a shield, screams of the damned as the chicken descended upon them with a large butcher knife, something was on fire, and Alfred was loading up his shotgun crouched behind the table with Danny on one side and Bruce on the other looking like he was astral projecting but not at the same time.

It was agreed that this dinner was never to be spoken of. Ever.

Danny wore gloves from now on when he came over for a meal of any kind.

Dick had to wear a hat for a bit after the chicken managed to take off some of his hair, leaving a bald spot (Steph tried to shave his head completely to ‘even it out’)

2. Wes

They waited two months before bringing Wes to the manor and after what happened with Danny, the family was a touch more wary. Dick jokingly(ish) asked if Wes would bring anything alive, he replied with ‘Not unless you pay me’ and didn’t elaborate further.

You’d think they’d calm down after interacting with Wes for a bit because it wasn’t like he was horrible, he meshed well with the others and they could find themselves genuinely liking Wes if not for a small little thing or two. It was going too well. Wes seemed to know how to interact with all of them, barely making any mistakes that came with interacting with new people, it was off putting to the vigilantes. (Except Tim, he didn’t notice a thing odd about it)

Along with the fact that the ginger seemed to sometimes ask very…interesting questions that made the others pause. Wes can’t help himself when it comes to knowing things about people that he’s talking too, he held off this long and now he can’t help but slide in a few questions and comments here and there…just to see if they notice.

Wes could acknowledge that he found it a little funny how much he was driving the Waynes up the wall.

Bruce kept staring at Tim, as if trying to telepathically get answers from him. Tim pretended not to notice his gaze.

Someone tried to give the shovel talk and Wes responded by saying their credit card information in a deadpan tone.

This visit also somehow managed to go to hell, this one didn’t even make it to dinner. The disaster kicked off with Wes and Damian, no one is quite sure what was said but it ended with an absolute cat fight, with Dick holding back Damian who had a bruise already blooming on his lower jaw and Jason holding back Wes who had a small knife lodged into his thigh and promptly bit Jason when he abruptly grabbed the ginger.

Jason later got checked for rabies.

Wes refused to give the knife back, having left with it still in his thigh. (Danny got it out and was unsurprised by the series of events when told.)

(Batman definitely went to their apartment later that night.)

3. Bernard

This wasn’t the first time he met the Wayne Family but it was the first time he’d be meeting them as Tim’s boyfriend instead of just friend.

So obviously the meeting went find, they already knew who Bernard was so it wasn’t a get to know you meeting but a shovel talk meeting + meeting the third boyfriend

Bernard was the only one really intimidated by the shovel talks

Most peaceful night, Bernard told some of his theories during dinner, including how Superman, Batman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and Lex Luther were in a polygamy relationship. Jason was dying (metaphorically this time) during dinner as well as the other siblings, Bruce not so much and Damian tried to act like he didn’t find it funny (Dick swears he did).

He was the only one Bruce didn’t feel the need to heavily research. (Because he already did that when he and Tim first became friends)

( I kinda hate this but whatever, it’s been in the drafts for far too long. )

[blueberryarchive]

RECORDING (+18)

Were you move in to Montenegro Hills. A peaceful neighborhood with caring neighbors and walking dogs at 6pm.

The night of the welcome party, you meet Park Jimin: the president of the neighborhood committee. After a few shots and a little bit of flirting, he makes a proposal you thought you'll never hear from anyone in your life.

▶pairing; stalker!jimin x fem!reader

▶word count; 13.4k

▶genre: 80's au, enemies and lovers, thriller

▶tw; grammar mistakes (english is not my first language), horny!jimin all the way, your boy Hoseok it's a freak too, gore scenes (blood, wounds, death, descriptions of pain and bodily fluids), toxic relationship, smut (dub-con/non-con, penetration, knife play, degrading names, manhandling, spanking, fingering, choking, mating position) everyone in here is a piece of shit ngl, misogyny, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

▶playlist; 📼

Record, the verb, comes from the word cor or cord in Latin, which means heart or remember, which in itself is beautiful. To repeat over and over again, to keep track of it, to save it in the memory. Save is one of his favorite words to describe what he does. Salvus as in to keep safe, in both senses. 

There's nothing more precious to him than his collection of VHS tapes in the little room in the hall. All were put in alphabetical order and cleaned every Friday when he was free from work.

To watch every movie again and again, to remember the little details to heart, the dialogues, the gestures; he loved it. He loved taking care of it.

Now, it was Friday and, you see, as he was in the row from D to H, he heard one of the most precious pieces close the door abruptly of her Ford Cortina, just right outside of his house. He walked slowly through the hall of the rather dark place, the curtains were closed most of the time. His neighbors took it for privacy. 

Jimin was a very quiet and sheltered man, but he was very polite and helpful. Always there in Montenegro's activity programs, charity funds, birthdays, and Christmas parties. He helped with the food, made the kids laugh, and the wives adored him. Jimin was the best neighbor, and he worked hard for it. 

As he moved closer, his finger brushed the hem of the curtain in the living room, letting the sunlight paint a streak across his face. His eye settled on your feet, more like the heels. Who moved in with heels on?

You were wearing slingback pumps and a little pencil skirt, coming straight from work. Tired and all sweaty in the middle of the summer, when people remember why they don't like the heat in the first place. Jimin enjoyed it. It made people come out of their houses and forage for a little bit of shadow and conversation.

The white blouse you wore, had a little white bow that made you look like a dainty Victorian doll. The translucent blobs forming under your armpits were beginning to drip sweat down the sides of your ribs. You took a small carry-on suitcase from the co-pilot and closed the door putting on your dark, cat-shaped sunglasses. Chanel, so you also had money. The prices in Montenegro are not cheap by any means, but the people here are all so subtle in the ways they show it, with guilt and tight lips. But you weren't afraid to show that you could afford things, that maybe you loved the sound of pearls on your wrists and the sweet smell of Angel by Mugler on your clothes.

If he wasn't in his pajamas, Jimin would have opened his door to introduce himself just to let his nose feel the pleasure of your aroma in that heat.

Jimin knew that you were going fast and that you didn't want anyone to know about your arrival until you were in better condition. He looked at his wristwatch, it was barely five in the afternoon, and he didn't know if there was time. 

One way or the other.

He grabbed the corded phone near his couch and plopped down crossing his legs. With one hand he dialed a number so quickly that his fingers seemed to move automatically.

With the other, he searched for a roll in his work suitcase. It took less than the ringing of the call to put the film into the camera, a '72 Olympus, a beauty that belonged to his mother.

"Mm." answered a scratchy voice, Hoseok wasn't in the mood and that wasn't a good start.

"Hoseok, I need you to convince Nancy to have a party tonight, well, maybe not tonight but-." he put the phone between his shoulder and his ear, walking to the window. You were still inside, but the Cortina door was still open.

"What do you want me to do? She won't do anything until she's six months in." Hoseok exhaled. "Why a party? Who is it this time?"

Jimin wrinkled his nose, focusing the camera just as you went out to close the door. A single suitcase of clothes, your Chanel glasses, and your blurred lipstick. You were a work of art, he had to convince Hoseok to create an excuse.

"Park," Hoseok mumbled as the bustle of his office sounded on the other end of the line.

"Let's meet the new neighbor."

"Neighbor? I haven't heard Nancy speak of a neighbor at any time."

Click, just as you close the door. Click, the strokes of your hands and your quick steps.

"I'm seeing her now."

"Now? Is she already with you?" Hoseok sounded hurt, offended. His annoyance changed to a muffled, nasal voice.

"No, I wouldn't meet anyone without you, Jung." Jimin chuckled, his cheekbones popping with the jeer in his voice. "She's in front, where the Jimenez used to live."

"Yeah, okay—You better not." Hoseok interrupted.

Jimin closed the curtain and looked at the door at the end of the hall, three locks keeping it secure.

"So will you talk to Nancy?"

"Let's see, the hormones have her in a frenzy and she still forbids me to even drink, smoke or fuck her. I'm going insane." Nancy was Hoseok's wife, she was a sweet and calm girl, she always smiled and her voice reminded Jimin a lot of Shelley Duvall. A sheep with deep black eyes, like two dark lakes. She was Hoseok's jewel. Park didn't believe how sweet Hoseok could be with her, knowing how he could be outside his bubble, he pampered her fervently and always saw her like searching for scrapes and bruises.

Jung Hoseok was the perfect husband. Handsome and caring, made everyone light up with his contagious laughs.

They were one of the most beloved couples in Montenegro. Nancy was in charge, not officially but popularly, as the person who organized the parties. They were always the best. The best-grilled meats, iced tea, and the best conversations after a mojito or two. It was in these places that Jimin caught the big fish. But since Nancy's pregnancy, things have been quiet in the Jung household.

Nancy had become paranoid, barely leaving the house, walking around the patio of her house barefoot and in nightgowns. The women of her family tended to lose pregnancies easily, and every time she had a pregnant friend, or anyone for that matter, she treated them like porcelain, hundreds of tips on how to take care came out of her heart-shaped lips.

Now that it's her turn to be the pregnant one, she doesn't wear tight clothes and doesn't go upstairs. She eats hot things if Hoseok cooks because she's afraid of the stove. She thinks that her body, due to an uncontrolled impulse, will throw itself into the flames.

Convincing her wouldn't be easy, but Jimin hadn't seen her neighbors in a while, and seeing you caused his chest to shrink with curiosity. You were attractive, even when you thought you weren't.

Hours passed without any sign of life, dead hours in which Jimin decided to work on developing the photos he had taken of you. The pungent smell of vinegar and chemicals in the small room bathed in red light. His hands covered in black latex immersed the piece of paper in the water until the image appeared like a cloud of grays: your face, your hands, your hair sweating. Such a recent memory and he had already missed it.

He held the photo closer to the hanging light bulb, it was perfect. Even though it had come out a little blurry, he told himself that it made him want to have it more, the two minutes it had taken you to get there, close the windows, take out your suitcase, and look around you were fleeting. So having a small detail, like a photograph of a bird that was believed to be extinct or that of a very distant planet. He began to be fond of your nebulous figure.

His first frame of you.

Two clamps held the material on the cord so it could finish drying. The ringing of the phone brought Jimin out of his hedonism, he didn't wait for it to ring twice. Now, the words Hoseok said as he picked up the phone made the man smile.

"Saturday, 6 p.m. At my house." God bless Hoseok's convincing tactics. He must have made up an article in the newspapers about how Boston University theorized that a lack of communication with the outside world could cause hormonal problems and even affect the psyche of the fetus.

Wait…Saturday?

"You say tomorrow? It's too early, I don't have anything prepared yet."

Hoseok laughed. "No, moron, next week."

Jimin took off his gloves, disappointed with how little effort his partner had put into his work.

"That's a whole week away."

"You should suck my dick for getting something in the next four months."

"If you weren't as useless and ate her out, you would have had it by this Sunday, at least."

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek, twirling a pen in his fingers. His eyes were arranged in a corner of his office, and with a sigh, his legs spread out. "Describe her to me."

Jimin smiled searching for a cigarette in the kitchen, the phone in his hand, the cord jumping a little by his steps. He switched the phone to his other ear as he turned on the tip. "She's not a Maeve, she's not your typical Montenegro mom, maybe more like a workaholic like Charlie."

"Any children?" Hoseok interrupted excitedly.

"No, I don't think so. She has a very… disorganized style for being a mom."

"Divorcee?"

"I don't think this woman spent more than six months with the same man." Both men laughed, Jimin brought the cigarette to his mouth but stopped mid-action when he saw a shadow pass through the living room window. "Wait." Jimin put down the phone and walked into the hallway. The VHS were arranged, shiny and neat, on the right shelf.

They hadn't knocked on the door.

Knock, knock.

Jimin raised his shoulders tensely. It was you? Could it be true that Jimin was lucky enough to not have to poison you with chemicals until he dragged you into his bed? That he didn't need Hoseok's charms to convince you that what they were doing was sick, but he just needed a little alcohol, a little bit of will from you, too.

He walked quickly to the door and opened the handle with so much pressure that it made noise. The young girl on the other side of the door flinched, opening her eyes like a frightened bird before smiling at the man who was sweating at the front door. 

This is Cosette, for the second time this week.

If Jimin didn't know how to control himself, Cosette would have been planted in the garden serving as fertilizer a long time ago. He fervently hated teenagers, of all types: athletic ones, Star Wars fans, those who went to his movie theater to make out with their boyfriends for the three hours of the Gone With the Wind special, those who drove in their parents' Chevelle speeding through the streets; all of them. Especially those from Montenegro.

Cosette wasn't part of any of the groups mentioned, but don't let her think that Jimin hated her any less. Cosette, who had a strange taste in everything, including her social circle, was at her door. Her hair was always in a high bun, her bangs covered her forehead, a jean jacket that hid her body, and bright pink lips that made Park's eyes water.

She always carried something new with her, something for Jimin to notice and talk about. This time, she had a kerchief tied around her head colored in a nauseating green. She smiled even more when she saw that Jimin was only wearing an unbuttoned t-shirt.

He looked in the direction of your house, the curtains still closed. Shit.

"Cosette," he greeted her, pressing his lips into a smile. He refused to look at her bow so she wouldn't mention it either.

"Mr. Park, today is Friday. I wanted to bring you the films you lent me so you can clean them up and keep them organized." Her voice was tremulous as she blatantly looked at Jimin's arms and chest.

"Thank you," his eyes narrowed as he held up the stack of rectangular drawers his neighbor handed him. "I'll definitely have something by Cronenberg or Kubrick for you next week."

Cosette blushed aggressively. "Dad says Kubrick is just an excuse to watch women being-"

Her words stuck in her throat as Jimin's dark pupils sat on her features, lips slightly parted.

"It's sex, Cosette." Jimin exhaled, leaving the VHS on a table. "Nothing is going to happen to you if you see it, much less if you say it." His hand went to the girl's shoulder, her fingers curling around themselves anxiously.

"Yes, obviously. I know that. " The girl looked down, letting silence cover time. "Do you think I can help you with cleaning your collection this week?"

Jimin smiled sweetly and denied. This was Cosette's way of wanting to interfere in his life or maybe she thought something would happen if she stood in the middle of his living room and closed the door. What a poor fool, she really made him feel sorry for her. That's why he tried to find a healthier and legal connection.

Jimin lent him five movies to watch from Monday to Friday. They all had a theme: Italian horror, neosurrealism, buddy films, western, romance…

She watched them all religiously. Sometimes she even took advantage and went to the cinema to watch it even when she had the same movie at her house. Just to see Jimin.

"Sorry, darling. I already finished doing that this morning."

"Oh, I understand." Cosette nodded stupidly quickly, taking a step back. "It's okay, Mr. Park."

"See you on Monday."

Colette did not respond, raising a hand as she turned her face away to get away as quickly as possible from the shame that consumed her. A small mocking laugh appeared on Jimin's lips and he took out his hidden arm from behind the door, revealing the disintegrating cigarette.

His heart dropped to his stomach when his eyes flicked to your porch and there you were, in the same position as him. Cigarette hanging from your lips, your damp hair combed back and eyeliner singed into your dark circles.

Not at all a mother from Montenegro, not a daughter, not even the whores that the divorced men brought in looked as broken and disoriented as you. Jimin’s heart pounded when your eyes never left his as you took a drag. Smoke billowing out of your nose. You didn't smile or extend your hand to say hello like a good neighbor, instead, you looked at Jimin suspiciously, closing the door seconds later.

Jimin raised his eyebrow. What had he done? Worried, he closed the door quickly, head resting on the wood. He cursed Cosette under his breath as he walked to the phone in the kitchen.

"Hoseok?"

"Don't tell me. Marcus' little girl."

"I get a headache every time I hear her babbling."

"Don't be so cruel, she admires you a lot."

Jimin closed his eyes, your gaze had hurt his fragile ego, and he had to know why you were so hostile between two and a half puffs of your cigarette.

That week was about to be lethargy, hell, Dante's tenth circle.

Day 1

Movie in theaters: Ghostbusters The curtains are still closed, I can see your silhouette at night, and the lights you use are dim. Halogen, you like calm environments, corners covered in soft shadows. You play music from the moment you get home from work, 5:15 without fail; you usually leave it on when you leave again.  Every day, you come back with a paper bag, I assume with groceries. 5.45. You are wearing a leotard in one of those colors that Cosette likes so much. Perky titties bouncing while you take down the porch stairs;; couldn't help but take some pictures. You exercise until 6:40, then, ironically, smoke a cigarette or two in the yard. Smiling at people while pearls of sweat dribble down to your cleavage. Zuri is the first one of the committee to see you and waves her hand with curiosity. You two talk for a little. I'm here wishing I could read lips, but even with a thorough education, yours will need a whole degree only for me to concentrate on not kissing them. I go to sleep at 11:30, one glass of whiskey and half a joint I stole from Marcus months ago. I dream of eating you out through a small cut in your leotard, sweat dripping down your body to mine. You whimper, but I can't hear you.

Day 2

Movie in theaters: Friday The 13th: Part IV At 6:25 in the morning, I wake up to the sound of your heels going down the stairs to get to your car. I can't get up fast enough to see what you're wearing for me today. You accelerate quickly, you don't care if you wake up the neighbors. You don't come back all day. After work, I watch one of my films on TV until I fall asleep, Birdie's laughter drowns out my curiosity as I doze. 5:15, you're not home from work. Maybe you went out of state, considering how you dress, you seem like a busy woman. I thought about the clicking heels and imagined your foot stepping on my erection. I go outside to calm my thoughts. One thing led to another, and without knowing it I find myself in your backyard. You're not stupid, all the doors and windows are closed; curtains included. But you don't know who I am still, what I need about you.

Day 3

Movie in theaters: The Evil That Men Do 4:55. I'm at the Millers' house, they've invited me to check out their new screen and sound system. Watching a movie with them, but due to August Miller's silent decision, we ended up at the outside bar, drunk on mojitos and pina coladas that Lou Miller learned to make with a cassette he bought at the supermarket. The cocktails are very sugary, but they help clear my head. I find myself sitting steps away from Mr. Miller. I tell him I'm writing notes for a new review in the newspaper, but all I can think about is your absence all day. There is no news from you, and I am afraid that you have decided to leave the house. I don't understand, the house is adorable. Too big for one person, but the Jiménez filled it with pets and children in less than two years. It has off-white floors and large windows to let in the light. A huge patio and pool so you can indulge in leisure activities such as gardening and nudism. 00:13, you appear with your car lights off and your arms down. You carry the same paper bag in your hands, and I accidentally smile when I have your presence. I knew having a garden in your yard would convince you to come back.

Day 4

Movie in theaters: Footloose Something that my drunken brain from yesterday had forgotten to write down, that was overlooked, or that the mojitos simply erased from my memory. I managed to open a window in your backyard. Around 6, Lou Miller, in her forties, was no longer the same when drinking and it seemed she had forgotten because getting out of the pool she vomited every cocktail and every appetizer she had made for her husband and for me. Mr. Miller, due to his age and lack of exercise, had to leave the task of helping his wife up to the room to me. There, lying on the bed like some kind of rag doll passed out and with her vomit leaving a trace in her mouth, I thought of you. Maybe because this wasn't the first time a drunk and unconscious woman was in front of me or because she simply couldn't think of anything else. I went downstairs and said goodbye as decently as I could in my tipsy state. How strange it was to be drunk in the middle of a sunset. The days seem long and with you absent, God knows I need to at least get something that reminds me of you. You made things so difficult for me but I appreciated the detail, seriously. It's been a while since I enjoyed taking out my tools to open doors. People in Montenegro take security so lightly that I don't know how there hasn't been a massive burglary in every house. My arms wobbled and my cheeks burned. Half an hour later, I could hear the click that took me to your kitchen. I didn't do anything else, things had to go little by little between us, and I was willing to take it slowly for you. You're worth it.

Day 5

The night passed me like a breeze, it hit me like a stone on my temples. The nauseating taste of alcohol and sugar on my palate. Surely my face was swollen and that wouldn't help my next plan. The mirror showed me dark circles and short red marks on my ribs and chest. Going over your fences left me like shit. I put on some sunglasses and walked to my garden, I had been negligent with my roses and grass since your arrival. I had to make a good impression, and that was the first thing you saw of me. And this is where my conversion to religion begins. The first thing I hear is those low heels, the red ones you wore the first day, then Poison by Dior collided on my sensitive, hungover nose. That aroma was so familiar, maybe Zuri or maybe on Marcus's ex's boudoir. The conversation was like out of nowhere passing through the thin fresh humidity of a cloud, I remember nothing but the white and the voice of a seraphic being speaking to me.

"Don't you think it's pretty cloudy?" It was the first thing you let out of your angelic lips. Jimin closed his eyes and let a small shy smile appear as he turned around.

You had your hair back, revealing your entire face while you squeezed your eyes shut looking at the sky. A steaming mug in hand, a floral dress that almost reached your knees.

"Good mor-"

"For sunglasses, I mean." You interrupted, bringing the cup to your mouth. Chocolate, he smelled. You weren't one to drink coffee in the morning, noted.

"I try not to let my neighbors understand how hungover I am this morning."

You weren't one of the shy ones, he knew it from the moment you looked at him talking to Cosette and he loved that. You weren't wearing a ring either, noted.

You laughed at your neighbor's confession, Park's chest widened as he inhaled the sweet melody of your laughter. What if he confessed more things to you and you ended up fucking your hungover neighbor in the garage?

"Park," he raised his hand, and you raised yours squeezing lazily while still looking at him. "Jimin Park, I'm the president of the neighborhood committee, I also write reviews for The Hours."

"Good representation of what awaits me on Saturday."

Jimin raised his eyebrow at him. He was supposed to be the one inviting you, he would come to your door with good wine and his expensive perfume on to ask you to crash a party a couple of doors down, something "impromptu."

"Ah yes, that." Park licked his lips turning off the sprinkler.

“Aren’t you going?” Was that disappointment in your voice? Oh, honey...

"It wouldn't be a party without me"

"I see that." You pointed to his glasses again. The third joke about his hangover, you were nervous.

You just looked for an excuse to see him closer, and he had to respect your courage, it would have taken him a few more weeks, and after that, he ended things quickly after convincing his... how to put it? Muse? To leave it as it is.

"Well, I have to go, Park, but it was a pleasure. See you Saturday night."

"At the Jung's house, at 8."

You smirked, your eyes taking one more scan of the boy's body before turning around and walking to your car. Your hips moved soft and firm with each step, you worked for it and he appreciated it.

Continuation of Jimin's diary. Day 5: Page crumpled and torn from the small notebook. Attached with adhesive tape.

Yes, yes, yes. I know I should have waited at least half an hour for you to leave the area to go to the back door, but seeing you up close, smelling you, and hearing your voice. They were simply the last stop on my patience. I was walking through the small forest behind your house, the path was muddy under my boots and the sky threatened to break into thick drops. I prayed that it was true so that it would cover up the evidence of yesterday and today. I opened the door again with ease and entered your kitchen, closing the door softly. You still had things in boxes and my hands were tingling to open them, but I'm smarter than that. I didn't waste time and went up to your room. I came for something, then when you invite me to dinner or watch a movie I can have the pleasure of admiring your home. I looked in the drawers, under the bed, and in the closet. Here is the list of things I took that I know you would only assume were lost in the move: a red lipstick from the Besame brand, some used black panties with a small bow in the center, a white photo of you and black, a key that I found under a chest full of rings. I have no reason to take a key without knowing what it is for, but the ribbon covered in river pearls from which it hung was so delicate that I smiled thinking of you decorating something so simple. Now, I write these pages because I have arrived safely at my desk, with all things in hand. But I must say that you gave me a tremendous scare when you arrived at the house without the vehicle. I heard banging downstairs, and the hissing of keys. Luckily I was able to escape out the window that looked right into the pine trees behind the neighborhood. I spent another hour walking around the steep path, admiring how the thick, century-old trunks swallowed me up. As I predicted, the sky turned black. The last rains of September cleaned everything I left behind. I put my hands inside my pocket and took out the panties that I had wrapped delicately. I opened them like a letter as the rain soaked my body and the fabric in my hands further. I brought its center to my face and inhaled deeply, letting my back fall onto a log. Pungent and strong was your taste, I gripped the material in my teeth as I desperately undid my pants. It's the first time I've tasted you and I couldn't contain myself for long, the rain drowning out my moans as whitish streams fell on the wet earth.

There is no collection from day 6, a simple crumpled sheet, previously wet with an unidentified liquid (among the possibilities tears, stolen perfume, human remains), marked with a lipstick that Jimin wrote with hearts in the 'i's.

If there was something that surprised Jimin every time, it was the way Nancy could prepare a party in such a short time. Her backyard became a show under incandescent light bulbs and freshly cut grass.

Jimin stepped on the silage with guilt because of how perfect it was. He looked at his white suede shoes, removing a leaf that settled on them. He wanted to be impeccable. He had cut his hair past his ears and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt tight on his arms and chest with the words: 'LOVE 1984' by Yves Saint Laurent. His biceps were something to talk about and Nancy didn't let it go unnoticed.

"Is there anyone special coming today, Park?" Her honeyed and soft voice approached Jimin, offering him the first cocktail of the night. Unlike Mrs. Miller's, Nancy's coconut mojitos were the best.

"I don't know, that's the wonderful thing about your parties. The last one the Bee Gees didn't come through that door because Jung wouldn't let you pay for it." They both laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say the Bee Gees." She thought about it, maybe he would bring them next summer. "Cher, I love Cher. I know a friend from college who has her number."

"For God's sake, Nan."

Jimin smiled again, looking at Nancy's profile: her face was as delicate as her voice. Her hooked nose curved gently and her lips pursed, seeing what else he could arrange before the others arrived. Her hand unconsciously caresses her visibly bulging stomach.

"Do you know what it is?"

Nancy's eyes sparkled at the mention of her fetus. She denied it.

"Zuri is planning to hold a small celebration for me to tell me my gender in a few days."

"Ah, another party. This is where Sonny and Cher show up to say she's a girl."

Hoseok came out wearing an apron that blatantly said 'Kiss the Cook' and a pile of bloody, seasoned meats on a plate. The grill in front of him waved a nice heat as the first piece sizzled.

"You know I can't live without a good celebration." Nancy stepped back, gravitating away from the heat of the fire. "I'm going to see if I can help Lucy with the canapes."

Nancy turned around smiling an apology at Jimin who reciprocated. Without wasting time, he pulled a Marlboro out of his jeans and approached Hoseok, enjoying the warmth that covered his torso. Hoseok held a piece of bright red charcoal and brought it close to his partner's cigarette until he lit it.

"She did it again, the patio is beautiful."

"You know my Nana just needed a good excuse." Hoseok smiled, holding up the cigarette to take a drag. "Ever since I mentioned there was a new single woman in the neighborhood, they went crazy."

"Have you seen her yet?" He was somewhat suspicious that Hoseok had beaten him to invite her to his barbecue. Make no mistake, the party was the Jungs', but the purpose of the party was so that Jimin could meet you. The plan didn't work unless Jimin said it was going to happen, Hoseok was part of them but only as a proxy.

Luckily for Jimin, Hoseok shook his head in disappointment, looking at the grill.

"I heard she looked like a slut waiting to get paid for a blowjob on the sidewalk in a yellow leotard."

"Pink." Jimin interrupted, irritated by the words, sipping the mojito until he finished it. "Who told you that? Zuri?"

The day Jimin saw them talking, Zuri was wearing a friendly smile and you two had a small conversation.

"No, of course not. Zuri just said that she came home from the gym and the others-"

"Maeve," Jimin mumbled, setting the glass aside.

Hoseok smiled. "You know this happens to everyone who arrives, it happened to me and Nancy, to Marcus, to the Espositos for being Catholic in a place like Montenegro."

Christopher Esposito was a father at St. Eliam's Chapel, a small white building where few in the neighborhood went. It was California and people only believed in themselves. But, of course, Nancy had to invite them. Well, religion is not religion at the end of the day, but status.

Coming back to you.

"She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But not beautiful in the aesthetic sense, there is something about her eyes."

Like you know something Jimin doesn't.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him flipping the cuts.

"Fuck, she has you in the palm of her hand."

Jimin denied listening to the commotion coming in and talking inside the house. "Tonight I will be the one who will have it in mine."

There you were, in a black high-necked dress and black boots. You smiled at everyone and shook your hand.

For a second, when Jimin brought his cigarette to his lips, you looked at him. He to you. Both smiled before each one went back to his work.

Let the show begin.

Glasses slowly piled up on the wooden table that Nancy had impeccably decorated about four hours ago, plates with bones and half-eaten vegetables.

The music was loud but the voices shouting stories from the past about alcoholism and deranged adolescence were even louder.

Jimin was sitting next to the unlit grill, the subtle smell of burning charcoal and meat had him nauseous. He brought his knuckles to his lower lip as he watched you talking to Hoseok and Nancy, an impeccable smile on your lips, you looked like a little angel; anyone would steal you from that place. 

Several of the husbands had taken a glance or two at your legs and swallowed your flirtatious, drunken laughter. You only drank wine and the tinted mark of alcohol covered your lips. So kissable and unattainable.

Hoseok had already taken a look at your hands, they were one of his favorite features. Luckily for him, your hands were decorated with rings and varnish the color of the wine you drank.

Nancy laughed at a joke you said, you blinked slowly looking at the woman in front of you with the concentration that only being drunk gives you. Hoseok looked back and nodded at Jimin. It was time.

"Could you get our guest another glass of wine, love?" Hoseok took your glass and Nancy nodded still laughing at the story you told her about your childhood.

Hoseok placed a hand on your back guiding you through the people. You let him, who knew that a couple of drinks could give you so much fluidity?

Still, you felt this tickling in your neck since you arrived.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hoseok was one of those men that you watched your friend marry and sometimes you wished you had that kind of stability. Nice, he made you laugh, he protected you.

You nodded to the question.

"I'll introduce you to a few committee members, they're excited to meet you."

They both made way for a blonde woman with eyes so blue that you couldn't stop looking at them throughout the conversation, the green shadow on her eyelids was so singed that it looked like a healing bruise.

"This is Maeve."

"Oh, dear, welcome." Her body felt tense in the hug she offered you.

When she let you go, she once again engineered that smile that seemed to hurt her to extend. You looked where her gaze was guided: two children dressed alike were running around near the pool.

"Come back here." She murmured, pointing to the area where the other children were.

"Maeve is in charge of children's events and birthdays. She is an artist."

"Oh, Hoseok, please." Maeve rolled her eyes at her enjoying the compliment. "Why didn't you bring your children, dear?"

"I don't have any, work won't let me." You smiled. Maeve raised her eyebrows.

"And your husband, he also works a lot? He should have at least stopped by to say hello-"

"There is no husband either."

Hoseok licked his lips enjoying the shock on Maeve's face.

"Oh okay." She laughed softly, fixing his pearl necklace. "I mean, things aren't like they used to be." Maeve sought support from Hoseok. You also looked at the man next to you who almost choked in his drink.

"America," Hoseok explained, taking a swig of brandy that made his nose wrinkle.

"God, yes. It's like it doesn't belong to the man anymore." You laughed hard, you didn't know where so much energy came from but you were static, you could feel every look and every touch.

Every look.

"California has become Sodom in just ten years."

"Oh, there's Zuri and Charlie!"

Hoseok grabbed your arm and dragged you away from Maeve's quips. Two women were sitting near the pool, the black woman fixed her glasses and continued the conversation. Her hands were intertwined with the brunette's in front of her. You didn't want to interrupt but Hoseok didn't give you time.

"This is Zuri and Charlie Munson."

The hairs on the back of your neck perked up as you heard another voice behind you. You couldn't tilt your head because the two women stopped to shake your hand. He was just who you wanted to see.

"You came," you mumbled to Jimin as you squeezed the taller girl's hand. She was beautiful.

"Charlie, this is our new neighbor." Jimin placed both hands on your shoulders, massaging discreetly. You were breathing hard as you tried to hide a smile. The pads of his fingers hit the tense spots.

Charlie was tall, the square glasses covering half of her face. Seeing Jimin, her calm expression soured. You gave her your hand and smiled at Zuri who stood behind her like a little girl.

"Charlie's a lawyer, in case you one day end up getting a DUI like me." Jimin laughed, you didn't know if it was a joke. If you saw Zuri's reaction, yes. If you saw Charlie's, well he had simply said that he ran over a child or something.

"Zuri is-"

"I already met Zuri on one of my outings to my patio."

"Oh perfect." You smelled divine and the brandy was starting to feel like the plan could go well without the help...no, in fact, without Jung's presence.

"I work for Martines & Sons," Charlie spoke again.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise still with Charlie's hand in yours.

"Martines & Sons, you're not just any lawyer then. I know one of the sons, David has told me a lot about you." You responded. Charlie smiled proudly, fixing her glasses. Was that blush Jimin saw on Charlotte Munson's cheekbones? Oh, you were a top whore, you flirted with Charlie in front of her own wife and poor Zuri didn't notice.

You and Charlie lasted a short silence smiling at each other.

"Zuri is a piano teacher." his wife stammered, letting the woman with the long, poorly dyed hair shake your hand. She wore necklaces of different colors and a ring that almost covered her index finger with a purple stone. "She graduated from Stanford."

Barely, Jimin told himself.

Before they can continue the conversation, Maeve calls out to the two women. Perfect.

The music was loud enough for Jimin to have the excuse of brushing your ear with his swollen lips from biting them so much.

"That's Marcus," he murmured, letting the warmth of his breath caress your lobe. You closed your hands into a fist, wetness pooling instantly inside your silk underwear.

Marcus was like a Jesus if he had become a writer. His hairy knuckles held a cigarette about to burn his skin, he didn't talk to anyone but instead admired the water of the pool in silence.

“That's his daughter, Cosette,” Jimin's palm guided your hip to the kitchen window. You were so drunk that Jimin didn't have to do much to make your physiognomy move, like wet clay between his calloused fingers.

"Victor Hugo fan?"

"Don't even try to do it, he'll spend hours talking to you about Les Misérables." They both laughed in a drunken stupor. Like two boys gossiping.

Cosette was wearing a plaid skirt and blue eyeshadow. To attract attention this time she had put on red lipstick.

Seeing Jimin, she raised her hand and smiled, revealing her silver braces.

No, she was too shy to greet Jimin like that.

You greeted her with both hands so he could see you better in the darkness on that side.

"Ah, you know her."

"Yes, I almost crashed into the poor thing at midnight when she was running away from her house." Monday the 17th, you arrived at 12:13 that night. Anyway, it wasn't logical for you to be out at midnight.

"I didn't consider her one of those who ran away at night."

"Sometimes it can get lonely, doesn't it?" You both looked at each other at the same time, your cold knuckles pinching your lips.

Hoseok was nowhere to be found and Jimin's cock was already starting to hurt under those tight jeans.

Fuck it.

"You don't need to go to be with little Cosette to feel accompanied." Jimin rolled his eyes, the iridescence of the water reflecting on his face and you felt the wine line your blood. The tickling behind your neck subsided and you could only think about those high, rosy cheekbones that you wanted to nibble on ever since you saw them.

"I don't feel alone now."

"And in your house?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Surprisingly, at home, I feel like I have someone else. In the hallways behind me, behind the curtain when I shower, in the corner of my bed when I go to sleep."

A cheeky smile spread across your face, Jimin swallowed, pulling out a cigarette.

"Ghosts," he rolled his eyes playfully. "The worst plague."

You stole the cigarette from Jimin's hands and lit it with the lighter you had inside your left boot.

"What do you say, Park? Do you have ghosts in your hallways while you go to pour your coffee?"

If you only knew, love.

"Unlike you, no one loves me enough to haunt me even in my dreams."

Your eyes fell after two drags, on the third you stopped at your chest and held the cheeks of the boy next to you, your crimson nails squeezing gently letting Jimin's lips bulge allowing you to pass the cold smoke to his lips.

"Hmm," Jimin groaned, letting the air come out of his nose in frustration. He closed his eyes and opened them gently until he looked at your pupils dilated and determined for the next step.

This is the first time Jimin has asked the question instead of Hoseok, who from his mouth didn't sound so creepy. But the unfortunate man was busy playing a game of poker with the other parents. Now that little Jung came to the family, Jimin, and his hobbies were something that Hoseok apparently wanted to put behind him, he wanted to become a suburban father.

"Have you ever been recorded...um-" Jimin swallowed hard, moving closer to hide in the shadows of the night. "Doing it?"

You tilted your head back to look at Jimin again, he wasn't playing around. You lifted the corners of your lips, a husky laugh on your part.

“You fucking freak” You scoffed.

"I can show you my films if you want to."

"Yeah, sure-" you huffed, taking a step back.

"Pick one." Jimin took your arm, the look in his eyes was daring. "Pick someone here. Anyone."

Your gaze rolled around the party until it stopped at the sweet Maeve who was singing karaoke next to her husband, a martini in her hands. Surprisingly, Maeve was a crowd favorite.

Jimin smiled evilly. "Do you want to know if Mrs. Johnson enjoys being recorded?"

No, you wrinkled your nose.

Your eyes softened at the thought of Jimin arranging the camera to focus on Maeve's cobalt eyes, curiosity flowing faster than alcohol.

"I thought so." Jimin offered you his hand and surprisingly, yours landed on his before he could say no. "Be like the one she's had too much to drink, we need an excuse to get out of here."

In the end, Jimin was right. The only thing he needed to get you into his bed was a little alcohol and a little bit of you.

Jimin's house had so few lights that when you entered it took you a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. The lamps illuminated the corners, the pieces of newspapers with his reviews on the living room wall, his photo on several of them.

Leaving the party wasn't as difficult as they both thought because everyone was so drunk that they didn't even notice his absence, even Hoseok who was winning his useless poker game.

Now you were with your legs crossed on the leather furniture, your boot clattered on the floor waiting for Jimin who was in the hallway, he had put on reading glasses that made him look older than he was but you loved thinking about that little girl. fantasy that he was about to give you a class.

Jimin muttered the letter M over and over again until he found Maeve between Mad Max and The Magnificent Seven. Handwritten with a green marker it said: Maeve: June 3rd, After the Twins' Birthday.

"Here it is." A nostalgic smile appeared on Jimin's face. You followed his steps with your eyes until you reached the small VCR in front of the television.

"It bothers you?" You took a joint out of your purse, but Jimin denied it, crawling to the furniture and positioning himself between your legs, his glasses reflecting a certain emotion that you couldn't decipher. But he looked comfortable, happy to be able to present one of his works, his hand caressing your thigh while he lit the joint.

"On the contrary, I believe that substance use enriches the experience." Now it was Jimin's turn to take your breath into his, but his hand was rough and he clenched your jaw to get you off. You didn't complain, that's how you liked it. "Speaking of substances, brandy?"

“Please,” you coughed, your eyes stinging. You looked around the room as he stood.

Jimin went to the open kitchen that joined the living room, his gaze and body were already adapted to the blackness of the apartment. There was only the light from the television and a small lamp at the end of the hallway that led to his study.

"Are you going to explain to me how you got frigid Maeve Johnson to let you do this or..."

"Of course, I just let Hoseok do the hard work of casting and convincing."

"Hoseok? Your neighbor Hoseok?"

"Yeah, he's like my producer if you want to call it that." The coppery liquid settled in the glasses, leaving a pleasant woody smell in the air.

"And what do you gain from that?"

Jimin turned around and looked at you impatiently.

"Have a drink before you start, it will surely be strong for you."

"You don't know me, Park." You responded, sitting closer to him to take the glass he offered you, a small drink.

It was enough.

Your swollen and tinted lips closed with his in a tender and passive kiss, Jimin breathed deeply without closing his eyes. He placed both glasses on the table without taking off his eyes of the screen and put his hands on your waist. The tips of his fingers touched your curves above the silk of his dress, turning from a caress to a rapture.

"Mphmf" You took off laughing a little, the weed had you smiling and Jimin loved that. He loved it when his girls started laughing sheepishly at their own fantasies.

"Shall we begin?" Jimin held the controller in his hands and pressed the button.

Hoseok is the first image you make out on the screen, his lips pursed as he fixes the camera.

"You're sure?" Could be heard behind the sudden movements of the camera.

"Mhm, it's just something I like to keep in case I want to see your face moaning my name again."

Hoseok takes off just as Maeve blushes and rolls her eyes at him. His movements were light, and his shoulders didn't seem as tense as those of the woman at the party.

"Is she on drugs?" Asked.

"No, she only drank two glasses of wine before starting. The three of us were a little tipsy."

A pale figure approaches Maeve and removes the low tail she has, surprisingly, this makes the woman relax even more. Seeing the hands massaging her shoulders you realize it's Jimin.

"Is she ready yet?" she murmured.

"The only thing missing is the boom," Hoseok responded by teasing Maeve about her beauty.

"Quickly, I can't wait any longer." Jimin laughed flirtatiously, approaching Maeve's neck to leave a couple of chaste kisses. Johnson closed her eyes.

"Almost there," Hoseok complained before the sound changed from a crisp sound to a sleeker one. Now you could hear Jimin's lips smack.

"Action," Maeve laughed and the two boys laughed at her. Hoseok was no longer in front of the screen. But you could hear the dragging of a chair and a belt being removed. Voyeurism, interesting.

What happens next is just what you thought, but you still couldn't stop watching Maeve being completely devoured by a man who was, surely, her first experience fucking her and having her be the center of attention.

The camera focused on her and her alone. But you couldn't stop watching Jimin in the corners, he was a damn artist with his body. He was not the protagonist but without him, there was no dance.

Hoseok was breathing hard behind the camera throughout the entire movie.

When Maeve was sweating and panting on the furniture right where you were sitting, the screen went black.

You looked at Jimin, his mouth resting on his knuckles. The light from the static emitted a pale light on his body, you could see how seriously he had taken the film, he had only moved to take a couple of sips of brandy without taking his eyes off the screen.

"What do you think about it?"

There were no words that could describe the feeling Jimin had when he heard the three words that left your lips.

"I want one." You had a feline smile. Jimin knew you were sick, but you looked like you had fallen from the sky that summer afternoon.

Park's head shook, nodding quickly.

As he stood up from the furniture, he felt as if his body was going to lean forward, perhaps he had drunk too much brandy.

"Woah, are you okay?" You held his arm, but he nodded instantly.

"Yes, sorry is the excitement." He laughed walking down the hallway, each step echoing off the walls of his brain. Something was wrong, but he couldn't stop now. He had to look for his camera.

He searched for the keys in his pocket until he found the key to the study, turned on the lights, and looked for a tool in the corner of the room. Upon entering the studio, it surprised you how many plants, lamps, and furniture of different sizes and shapes there were.

Maeve had surely been something improvised, but now Jimin and Hoseok had vast resources to create something first-class.

"You can take a seat wherever you like, I'll take care of the rest." The man stammered, putting the batteries in the camera.

"What camera is it?"

"It's a Sony BetaMovie, I love how the colors look in the image." He swallowed hard because when he got up, the room seemed to spin. "Shit."

"Come, I'll help you. Take a seat." Your voice guided Jimin to a white piece of furniture near a window. Your hands brushed the hair from his forehead and he smiled. You really were everything he needed.

"I'll put the cassette on while you rest. You hit the joint too fast." You laughed before placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Jimin's cock throbbed as he felt the softness and heat emanating from your body.

“Quick,” he whispered, watching you put the device on the tripod.

His eyebrows rose at how quickly you set up the camera and sound. Even better than Hoseok, he dared to say.

Where was Hoseok?

Jimin's heart started to beat fast as you let your ass fall into his lap, a hiss coming from him as he put both of his hands behind his head. Your hips began to move back and forth, and the fabric of his jeans rubbed roughly against his cock.

"Fuck." He mumbled, looking up, lips parted into an oval. The room stopped moving when you started playing with his hair. "You're s-so fucking cute. I like you so much, I-I don't want to share you w-with that bastard Hoseok."

You laughed at his babbling. He was so excited that if you touched his cock he was sure to cum in seconds. You flattened your tongue against his jugular and felt the growl he made.

"You're so fucking cruel. C'mon, take my fucking cock out."

"Do it yourself, you lazy fuck." You whispered, leaving a hickey on his collarbone.

Jimin obeyed as fast as his clumsy hands could, he didn't know what was happening to him but he didn't care. Maybe what he smoked wasn't weed but if you were in the same state, things were fine.

Everything was perfect.

"Take that fucking dress off. God, I wish you had that pink leotard on."

With both hands on the edges of the dress, you lifted it until your naked body was visible.

"You're breathtaking, baby."

"I know." You kissed him with so much hunger that the taste of blood began appearing between your tongues, but none of you knew whose. You raised your legs to remove the wet panty, you held Jimin's cock in your entrance, and your fingers felt the veins that were pulsing frantically. "Don't you dare cum without me"

"Just ride me, baby, please. I feel like I will die if you don't." He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying. "Nice and slow, let the camera see how good you can take it." Jimin gasped with every inch you let into your tight pussy. Both hands went to his mouth muffling his moans when you sat straight up on his cock, leaving nothing out.

You bit your lower lip in a smile, you pulled him closer to your body and he buried his face in your neck. Right where you wanted it.

"I know you have my key." You whispered.

Jimin pressed his fingers on your hip to make you stop. Fuck.

"What are you-?" The air was forced from Jimin's lungs as his rib bent in pain. The warmth of his blood damaged the new T-shirt.

You had stabbed him, he didn't know what it was but he could feel the thin edge moving menacingly inside him. A guttural sound came from him as you rotated the handle of the knife.

"You were the one who entered my house."

Jimin laughed, the lightness that losing blood caused him ecstasy.

"I didn't tell you to stop moving, you slut," he growled in your ear, your pussy clenched around him, he noticed and smiled even more. You were so done with him. You grabbed a fistful of hair from his head to get a better look at him.

He was a fucking liar, you told yourself as you held his head, his eyelids fluttering with the errant movement of your hips. If you had drunk the brandy that he offered you, you would be in that state, the same one that Maeve was in, the same one that everyone on every cassette in the hallway was surely in.

"Where is the key?"

Jimin couldn't stop smiling, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to leave wet kisses on your lips. His tongue playing with yours. A fight of teeth and saliva.

"What do you need it for"

"It's not your damn problem."

"Then I don't have the key."

You were sick of his games, you bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. That along with a sit on his cock made him so sensitive.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK." He hissed on your chest, he did not know if it was for pleasure or because you were taking out the blade from his body. Thick, white cum pouring down your legs.

"Okay, then. I'll just do it myself."

The last thing Jimin remembers is your head smashing his to unconsciousness. Bliss, pure heaven after the torture of having to love and deal with you.

He was fucked.

And here was Jimin, his eyes were like two black bullets pointing in your direction.

And there you were, helping Nancy arrange the gifts on the Baby Shower table. You dressed so casually and sweetly. You smiled as if nothing had happened.

Jimin inhaled sharply and felt his rib sting under the gauze protecting the wound. By luck, or rather experience, you didn't hit a vital organ. Which to him is surprising.

"This is what you get for not telling me to go with you," Hoseok served Jimin the punch filled with cubes of fruit, it was too sweet but since it was Maeve's party it had to be kid-friendly.

Hoseok didn't know about your act, he only knows that there is a tape of what happened, and what hurts Jimin the most is that he doesn't even have it. You took him away, you left his house in a mess looking for the key, and all the tapes scattered on the floor. It took full days to fix them.

"Now you're dedicated to being a full-time dad."

"Sorry, I have to do my job."

Jimin looked up at his partner, he wanted to tell him to go to hell, to him and to everyone else. But Park Jimin was always a sweet, calm, and helpful neighbor. Today he gave the excuse of having a migraine so he could sit and be quiet, so he could see you through his sunglasses.

"Did you at least fuck her?"

Jimin looked at his empty glass, a small smile threatening to tug at his corners.

"It's the best work I've done so far." He responded after a long silence.

"Fuck, man," Hoseok complained, thinking of all the possibilities.

"I can't take this anymore, I'm going outside for a cigarette."

"Don't stay too long, we almost announce the gender."

What a weird fucking sentence, Jimin thought taking, his pack out of his pockets.

"Care to share one?" You said and Jimin's body hair rose like static.

You wore sunglasses just like him, and you carried two glasses of rum and soda.

"You can take that fucking drink and choke with it."

“Mm,” you smiled. "Someone is not in a good mood."

"Do you know I can sue you for what you did?"

You laughed heartily covering your lips, Park's stomach altered. Of course, he couldn't, you already knew about his deepest secret, and you had the evidence. God knows Jimin was in your hands and you didn't need much to close it and crush him.

"Where's the tape?"

"Where's my key?"

"I don't have your fucking key."

"Then you can forget about your tape, sweetheart." You mumbled under your breath before stealing the cigarette from him. Jimin's hand turned into a fist.

You walked languidly down the sidewalk, Jimin following slowly behind you. You knew.

When they arrived at the house they both stayed at the entrance door. Your hands are arranged behind your back.

"Open the door."

"I thought you were going to come in through the window like you did before."

"ENOUGH!" Park shouted, scaring you, luckily there was no one around. "This is not a game."

"It is."

"No, it's not. You came to ruin my life."

"And you don't help solve it."

"The only way this problem will be solved is if you get out of Montenegro."

"Or if one of us ends up dead."

Jimin frowned, and you smiled. You were playing again. What a fucking tease.

Before the staring game continued, a noise inside the house caught both of your attention. To Jimin's surprise, it seemed like you didn't know what the noise was either.

No, quite the opposite.

"What's that?"

“Fuck,” you muttered before pulling out your keys and opening the door as quickly as possible. "Do not enter." You were frantic, scared. Jimin did the complete opposite.

"I told you not to come in,"

"Please help."

"Jimin Park, if you want to stay alive I swear-"

The man pushed you aside to follow the trail of blood that ran from the basement door to the living room and kitchen. When he got to the door, there was a woman tied up trying to open the door with a knife. Her hands were tied with gray tape, she was wearing dirty work clothes and she smelled horrible.

When the girl saw Jimin she became alert and she went to him on her knees, hands above her so that he could help.

"JI-" you swallowed hard, entering the kitchen. "No."

"Shh. I'll take care of it."

In the blink of an eye, Jimin's gaze changed to that of a monster. The woman noticed, got up on her weak legs, and ran through the kitchen to the stairs where she stumbled so hard that her knees couldn't take it anymore.

"No Please!" the woman screamed into Jimin's hand muffling her cries, Jimin's free arm chaining itself to her weak neck squeezing tightly. She moved like a fish out of water for a few seconds until only small spasms remained.

"Shh, I have a migraine. God."

You watched from the start of the stairs, your body trembling and your heart beating in your esophagus about to vomit it up. When he turned to see you there was a smile on his face, red with effort.

This was the card Jimin needed to match.

"The time I came into your house, you weren't the one making all that noise." He gasped, releasing the lifeless body from his arm.

"I do not know what are you talking about." You stuttered, taking a couple of steps back.

Knock, knock.

If you could, your racing heart would have already been on the ground.

"Hello, are you there? Nancy wants you to be there for the reveal."

Zuri's voice chilled your blood. You looked at Jimin and then at the body on the stairs.

Jimin trapped you between the door and his body, you looked up into his eyes.

"Let me guess, my little girl doesn't know how to hide a body."

It hurt you to say it but: "Help me, please." You whispered into Jimin’s lips and didn’t have to say more.

"Be like the one who was leaving the kitchen in ten seconds, wait for the second ring."

You nodded, watching Jimin lift your victim's body until he disappeared through the basement door. You fixed your hair and your dress, and you walked around the bloody kitchen.

"Are you there?" Said Zuri again.

"Yes, one second." You walked quickly trying not to slip on the red liquid on your heels. You opened and closed the door as quickly and subtly as possible. "Sorry, work."

"Oh, no. I understand, sorry." Zuri said with the sweetest smile on her lips.

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Ten, of course. I'll inform the boss." She winked before walking down the sidewalk to the other row of houses.

You sighed before walking back into the mess, Jimin was standing with his shoulder covered in someone else's blood, hair fluttering, and cheeks flushed from the effort.

Your angel.

"There's blood on you... everywhere," your voice trembled.

"What an insightful observation, darling." He laughed, cleaning his hands with his jeans.  

When you both saw each other, there was something undeniable between, and as if pulled by threads, both were attracted to each other until they collided in a kiss with arms intertwined in your bodies. Jimin knew in your arms that heaven was in the middle of chaos.

Jimin's hands traced the lines of your body until he reached the back of your thighs and lifted you so that you were chained to his waist. His rib burned with pain and he was sure the wound was opening again, but it did not matter now.

You two were even.

You gasped as you felt his hands squeeze your ass with anger.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm done with your bullshit."

Your eyelids drooped as you felt his soft lips leave kiss after kiss until your lips did not come away, the undeniable taste of weed and rum. Sweet and dangerous. His tongue entered your mouth, playing with yours, circling until he sucked it, a docile bite that made you moan.

Why did he still want you even after you stabbed him and made him ejaculate, intoxicated?

"Look at you doubting yourself." You said right in time when the silence became evident.

Jimin's blood boiled at your mockery and he led you to the furniture in your small living room. The sofa was still wrapped in plastic and the crisp sound of your body falling into the cushions excited you. A hand on your neck squeezing enough for you to open your mouth for air, the blood of your victim staining your pretty dress and skin.

Out of nowhere, Jimin took out a knife from his pocket and your hair stood on end, your pussy getting wet when he slowly ran it over your chest until he broke your bust and left your nipples exposed.

"Where's the tape?" He asked bringing the sharp tip to one of your nipples, the cold of the metal making your toes curl.

"There's no tape." You smiled biting your lip. Jimin let go of your neck to slap you so hard that he took away your smile.

"Say that again." He was fuming, his wide nose searching for air to calm himself, teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"There. Is. No. Tape. Park. I just prepped the camera and left it off."

He didn't understand why you felt so proud when it was clear that he could push the blade through your chest, but your nipples were getting hard and saliva was pooling in his mouth.

"Why is there no tape, you fucking cunt?" His fingers squeezed your chin so you would stop watching him play with your tits.

"Because I want to be the one who has it."

Jimin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Open that box." You pointed at the table next to the couch. It was the only box that looked used and worn. With the same knife, Jimin opened the box and felt a rush throughout his body, almost like vomiting.

A Sony BetaMovie, new in the box. His dazed and disoriented gaze went to yours.

"It arrived this morning."

"Oh, you didn't."

"I want my own film. No Hoseok, no drugs, just you. I saw you in the other ones while you were drugged and God," Your pupils shone with such grace and prayer that Jimin didn't understand.

"N-no, this is not how it works." The only thing he could do was laugh.

"But it can."

You began to kiss his fingers, one by one, giving him the necessary attention. "You just need to let me put the VHS inside and we can start."

Jimin denied it as he let his guard down. You got up and improvised a tripod out of boxes until the camera was right in the center where you could see the couch and Jimin sitting, without understanding what the hell was happening.

Having the VHS and pressing 'Rec', you turned back to Jimin. You kissed his cheeks and his neck, he moaned a few times, closing his eyes.

"In this one, you're my main star." You whispered in his ear and his cock hardened until it hurt. "Use me, please."

A growl from him.

He snatched your body from his side until he had you in his lap, your chest pressed against his knees. With the edge of the knife, he spread your legs and spat on his fingers.

"I wish I could kill you right now." He murmured entering two slender fingers inside your sopping cunt.

"I wish you would just shut up and fuck me like you hate me." You whimpered as his fingers collided with your entrance with pure blows. Your juices were making noise throughout the room, you grabbed a cushion, pressing your face into it.

Jimin didn't like that. "No, no, lift your face. Let me hear you cry." His fingers fisted into your hair as he thrust two more fingers in, the knife threatening to cut the inside of your thigh at any moment.

Your body trembled as his index and ring fingers curled into the gummy walls of your pussy.

"That's it, cum you fucking slut. Flirting with all the husbands at the party, smiling at Charlie Munson in front of her stupid fucking wife, all that with your perky tits bouncing. Showing Zuri your pretty body in that leotard."

His pinky started to play with your throbbing nub until your pee came out, making a mess out of the plastic-covered furniture. Jimin laughed without stopping until he saw you trying to crawl away from him. He took his wet hand and smeared it in your mouth, you spit out the excess watching him with drooping eyelids.

"Look at the mess you made, how dare you ruin my jeans."

A rough hand collided with your right ass cheek.

"Say you're sorry." Another one, this time the left one.

"S-sorry, sir."

The name caught his fancy. You were really hanging on his hands, you were the dirtiest whore for him, and he could play with you no matter how. You were so fucking sick and he loved it.

"Sir?" He laughed, caressing the reddened skin. "That's so cute, keep doing it." He spanked you again and again.

"Please, sir, it hurts."

"Good, now come here and make me cum until it comes out of your nose," he smirked putting you between his legs. 

Your trembling and useless hands took a moment to remove Jimin's pants, revealing his defined legs that made your mouth water.

You felt the tip of the knife on your chin and you raised your head. "Take off the underwear, too."

You hurried until you found Jimin's thick cock throbbing on top of his stomach. You licked your lips unconsciously and got to work right away.

Jimin's moans were drawn out like he was going to curse and drowned it out in a grunt at the end, you loved every second of it as your tongue circled until you reached the base. The air cutting from your throat.

"Kiss it until you can taste the saltiness down your throat, angel"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, letting Jimin fuck your face, covering your ears with his hands so that you could only hear the saliva lubricating the exit and entry of Jimin's cock into your abused throat.

You closed your eyes when you felt just what he promised you. His cum enters directly into your esophagus.

His hands lifted you up in a rush, your lungs flaring for oxygen for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Open your mouth." He have demanded and you obeyed. He spit into your mouth and then closed it with his fingers. "You belong to me, slut."

"Yes, sir." Your words seemed like blurs of what you wanted to say.

Your body was arranged on the furniture with your legs on your chest and Jimin squatting on top of you. He was going to hurt you but it was going to feel so good.

Your juices lubricated your entrance and your asshole, shining with the afternoon light that was scattered through the curtains. Jimin wanted to break you so bad that he grabbed the back of your ankles and spread you even wider until your pussy revealed your dark, hot insides.

Aiming the tip of his cock he rammed you hard until you screamed, biting Jimin's arm. The blood of others staining your bodies, Jimin's wound hurt so deliciously that the stain on his tissues became bigger and bigger.

You couldn't hold it in and you dug your finger into the gauze making Jimin's eyes widen, a roar came out of him and he held your neck squeezing so hard that your face started to turn red. However, you smiled, going dumb with his dick.

Jimin's eyes threatened to go black with pleasure and pain. Your pussy felt like wet silk. It was warm and cozy. He could die fucking that tight hole until the last spurt of semen was also his last breath.

Damn succubus, that's what you were. You smiled like a demon and fucked like an angel.

The angle ended up making you cum a second time, making your walls throb.

"Oh my God, keep doing that." Jimin grabbed your body in a ball until he covered you completely with his body and fucked you with short, desperate strokes, like an animal in heat.

As he came he felt like his soul was ripped out.

"Fucking love you, love your-...I hope you get pregnant with my warm cum deep inside your stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, honey. If this ain't the one, we can try again." You promised.

"This is the last time you'll see me," Jimin promised back.

And there it was, oh the gods must have blessed you with such a perfect smile because even though he knew he was screwed, he was still in love.

In a quick and agile movement, you were now the one holding the knife and pointing it directly at the bleeding wound.

"I have a game." You smiled slowly positioning yourself to ride him.

The cum bursting out, warm and viscous to his pelvis. Jimin kept looking at you with a tense stomach.

"Let's play Guess who accidentally gave Cosette one of his movies instead of giving her A Clockwork Orange."

No no no. No.

"No." Jimin tried to get up but you raised the knife to his throat with menacing eyes.

"Knowing Cosette, it will be the last one she watches because of the explicit themes. But you must be on time."

They both looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:55. Cosette always started the movies after coming home from chess club.

Five minutes or it was going to be a total disaster. Chaos. Jimin had shown Cosette porn, his porn.

"Here's the solution: I give you my car key and you either leave to stop her or let the whole neighborhood know that you traumatized Marcus's poor little daughter with your sick hobby."

Park's eyes stung as two tears fell to his temples.

"If you say the first, that means you will take the key on my conditions."

And this was where Jimin knew that he had made the wrong move.

He was trapped everywhere. Checkmate.

"Fuck you," his voice trembled.

You lowered the knife disappointed, and you sighed.

"Well, if you wish."

The handle of the knife collided with Jimin's forehead letting the pain dissipate with a deep sleep.

The first thing Jimin could smell was artificial pine, then the selage of your perfume. His eyes struggled to open as the blood from his forehead had dried onto his eyelids. It was dark, it was night around him and he could only see the road along until it plunged into darkness. He doesn't remember going out anywhere, much less somewhere so barren. His neck moved little by little until he reached a small market illuminated by white and purple lights.

Jim's Stop Sign, read an old, disused sign.

A bell rang as a woman was let out, it was you.

Shit.

Jimin tried to lift his sleepy body but he was tied to the seat. His body shook with every step you took towards the car. Now that Jimin realized, it was your car.

As you got closer he realized that you were wearing Jimin's t-shirt and the bright green leotard underneath, despite the night you were wearing sunglasses.

When you opened the door, his body was twisted with tension, waiting for you to do something.

"Oh, you woke up." You turned on the dome light, the pungent smell of blood and rotting flesh suddenly filling the car until it completely drowned out the smell of pine. Park tried to vomit but stopped himself. "I see your stomach is still sensitive, you should eat something." You pointed to the paper bag full of snacks and odds and ends like glasses and hair dye.

There was a tingle on Jimin's back but he was afraid to look at the back seat. You put the keys in and sped through the quiet night. The putrid smell subsided as you opened the window for Jimin.

"We had to leave without saying goodbye to Hoseok, I know you probably wanted to see him one last time but the body was starting to decompose and there was no remedy."

That was it, Jimin guided his eyes to the back where a long black sheath tied up who he assumed was the girl you kidnapped.

"She was the girl who had bought the house." You explained when you saw that Park didn't take his eyes off the cover that was shaking with the car. "I convinced her to have a cup of coffee when I met her at the gym and hit her in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn't know how to get rid of her, she just didn't want to die, and spent days feeding her and trying to find a solution." You bit your perfect nails with your other hand on the steering wheel.

Jimin was trying to breathe slowly.

"The solution was you all along." You smiled caressing his thigh. That made Jimin strangely relax.

"We need to find a place to bury them."

Them?

"When we get to the outskirts of Las Vegas we will be more suitable."

"Them?" Jimin’s raspy, tremulous voice touched you.

You looked at him worried, he doesn't remember.

"Cosette's body is in the back." You explained sweetly.

The vomit that his stomach held back came out when he heard those words, the viscous liquid falling on his sweater and his seat.

"Oh, Minnie, this is the second time you've done this on the trip."

"I want to go home." He cried while you stopped to clean his mess.

"We're getting there, don't worry."

"No, I want to go back to Montenegro."

"But you can't. You killed Cosette in her room, don't you remember?"

"You're a fucking liar, I'll never do that to her," he yelled so loud spit came out of his mouth. You just stayed there taking paper towels to clean his chest.

"She said very offensive stuff to you when we went to get the tape. She didn't like that a man was with her dad." You tensed your mouth in a strange smile.

"I didn't do it." He repeated it again and again.

But then again, He hated her guts. The only thing he needed was for her to snap at him once. But he couldn't, he wouldn't.

The night fell again into the silence of the car mechanics accelerating down the deserted highway toward Las Vegas. Jimin looked to the side of him: your hand was resting on the open window while your hair was fluttering in the wind, you looked tired but still murmured the lyrics the song in the radio.

Feeling Jimin's gaze, you looked out of the corner of your eye and smiled tenderly.

You got him out of a huge mess, he was grateful for that. Your hand went to the back and you removed the knot from Jimin's wrists. Looking back at Jimin you kissed the back of his hand and continued looking at the road.

The sweet act confused Jimin so much that he could only stand there looking at your profile, it reminded him of Nancy's. Appeased, away, and scheming things. His stomach was burning with love and he didn't understand it, but thinking about your furrowed eyebrows while you helped him lift Cosette's body made Jimin take you more than just appreciation.

"Did you bring a shovel?" He asked.

[amarias-yandere-blog]

"Run if you can, Darling. I will find you even among the galaxy."

-Yandere!Blade x Reader (Honkai Star Rail)

-‼️Warnings include: murder, forced affection, manhandling, physical violence, unreciprocated contact, other general yandere themes‼️

Special thanks to Myla on my discord server for reading and commenting on any mistakes for me!

Please: reblog with proper tags

You do not remember when you met him. You don't remember how. But you do remember why: a goddamn coffee shop. Craving something that would be able to keep you awake long enough to finish your rough draft for college, you headed out at one in the morning. A man with a beanie, a face mask, and sunglasses caught your attention as you ordered.

And as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

You were like a beacon in the darkest night- a wonderful drop of color in the grayest walls and dark navy seas. He grew curious about you, a seemingly innocent and tired person who was little more than a drop in the ocean of people he'd met.

But the way you walked up to him with the sweetest smile and that tired, but determined voice- oh, perhaps he had been stricken with a far more powerful disease than mara. Or perhaps he'd mistaken your curiosity for a bit of affection. All he knew was that your eyes held an innocent look in them.

Call him a sadist. Because he wanted to take that innocence for his own.

The second meeting was in the nearby library. You chalked it up to coincidence. He chalked it up to meticulous research, preparation, and an obsession to see your innocent light once again.

Things eventually developed. You fell for him. He was rather quiet, but he looked at you like no one else did in a long time. At least, from what you could see above the dark-rimmed sunglasses he wore.

The first time you actually saw his face was in an alleyway. You had accidentally run into some thugs. He was far more aggressive than you thought he needed to be, but his vermilion eyes and the way his lips were pushed into a thin, unamused line were... well, you could not lie. They were captivating. 

The thugs, bleeding from his curious black sword riddled with golden cracks, ran as he walked towards you- towering over you with one hand still on his blade and the other resting on the wall behind you.

"That was foolish of you, Y/n," he scolded before bending down, stealing your precious lips for his own. His eyes never left your form as you gasped in shock at his boldness. And he only grew bolder- pushing your face up so that he had a better angle to steal your breath. 

Your savior had completely taken you for his own. And you were fine with that, grabbing a hold of his neck for support as he took everything he could. It was like a dark ocean had enveloped your warm light at that moment, though you didn't know it.

That point on, he would disappear from your sight for weeks, if not months. Sometimes he would come to your door covered in blood but without a scratch on his body.

It was during one of those days when he had disappeared without a trace that you figured out who he was. You learned his name. 

Blade. Stellaron Hunter. Dangerous. It was recommended that you run if you saw him. That night in the alleyway became crystal clear to you. He was so skilled with the sword. He could have killed those people. No- you realized with a tear running from your face that he had. They hadn't run away. They had bled out and died while he covered your eyes from the sight using his body.

Slowly taking away your innocence. Your light. Claiming your love for himself. His vermilion eyes were a flag- all too deep and clear and that is why he hid them from you for so long.

In a panic, you decided to take the initiative and move as far away as possible. You quit your job, you moved across the world, you even threw your phone away at the drop of a dime. You were scared. And rightly so. Perhaps you would have escaped from his gaze if you had learned this from the first time you saw his face.

But it was just far too late now.

When you got out of the house, it was quiet in the apartment you shared with three other people. Two girls, one guy, and you. When you came into the living room, you were met with a gorey sight. A man stood tall, his sword hugged tight against his chest as he closed his eyes and waited patiently for a new chapter to start.

Bodies lay scattered across the room, their blood dripping from the ceiling and the walls, soaking the floor, the couch- but not a drop was on him. There was a cruel, cold wind blowing through the room.

"Bad choice, Y/n." The man suddenly spoke, all too aware of your sweet presence in the room. "Now three people have paid your price." He opened his eyes to glare at you, the sword disappearing from his grip. His hands made a wide gesture, as though inviting you to hug him. But instead, you stepped away.

"G-get away from me, Blade." You tried to sound confident. His lips curled into a smile before he put a hand on his head, laughing darkly at your puny display.

"Run." One word. One sentence and your heart dropped. "Run as fast as you can, little one, and try to escape from my heart and mind- you won't. Even if you fly to the end of the stars you will never outrun me. I will always catch you. So run, little one, give me a chase!"

His words set something inside of you off. You sprinted, slamming open doors and running down stairs with no particular purpose in mind- no destination. Just. Run.

As you ran down flights of stairs, you could hear the maniacal laughter from Blade. He sounded as though he was in no rush. You had, after all, gone to a place where he was unknown and unrecognized as a killer. He was playing the long game- letting you tire yourself out as you dashed across streets and down nasty roads, passing through large swaths of crowds and even going through narrow lanes in a rush to lose him.

But you burned out. You felt your knees get weak and your bare feet turned sore and red from the run. You gasped for air, holding your chest and resting against a wall as you took in deep gulps of air that fueled your run.

Your throat burned from the dryness of the air, and your lungs struggled to keep up with the demand you gave them.

"Is that the best you can do?" Blade asked with a laugh as he walked closer towards you. Even your effort to shake him off was in vain. You gulped down saliva and turned to run again- but your feet faltered, betrayed you. You slipped on your own blood, landing on your chest with a small shriek as loud footsteps clapped down the alley.

"Poor thing. So weak, so innocent and tired that they can't even run away." Blade mocked, pulling you up by the wrist.

He pushed you into the wall, forcing your body to move in such a way that you leaned against him, looking at him with fear in your eyes. His hands roamed, across your arms and down to your hips before pulling your head in such a way that he could once again steal your breath.

But this time around you didn't want it. You tried to pull away, kicking at his knees and pulling his arms away from your body. You elbowed him and screamed and scratched his face with your nails as you bit his tongue in self defense.

He released you for only a moment, turning you back around and pushing you up against the wall, one of his hands on your wrists to keep them above your head. The other slapped your face, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed against each other.

You watched in horror as the scratches healed in seconds, and he stuck out his tongue to prove that your damage had been far less than 'temporary'. He smirked.

"Any more cute attempts at fighting back?" He asked, shoving his face into your personal space, forcing you to look into his eyes. Your arms were growing numb now. You trembled. "I guess not. Looks like the chase is over, Darling. Now..." he leaned into you, whispered in your ear with a smile on his face. His free hand pinned your hips into the wall. "You are all mine."

And then he kissed your ear, his lips dragging across your face until they met your mouth. "Kiss me." He snarled. "Be a good little pet for me."

You never graduated from that college.

[spookysteddie]

Tillmans Girl

18+ Minors DNI

cw: stripper reader, drinking, drug mention, murder mention, oral (m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, pet names, slight choking, hair pulling, exhibitionism, biting. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.9k

A/n: this is based off of the song Gibson Girl by Ethel Cain (pre warned about this here) and I need to make it very clear that this is LOOSELY based off of the song. It’s more about how I feel while listening to it and how I fit the reader and Gator into this. I also let Gator have some friends because he needs them for the story purpose. I love the concept I came up with and I hope you do too! 

A/N 2: friendly reminder this is fiction and half the shit in here wouldn't happen IRL. ❤️

… 

He was here again. 

Sitting in his usual spot, surrounded by his friends and drinking shit beer. And he’s watching you, like he always does. Like he has since he first came in here a little over a year ago, dressed in his sheriff's uniform to investigate a murder. 

And now, he’s here every Saturday, just watching. He isn’t the first guy to come to this club for you. He isn’t even the tenth. But he doesn’t speak to you like the others do, not more than he needs to and typically you’re the one to instigate the conversation. 

Gator Tillman has a pull to him, like he’s the sun and you're a planet in his orbit. You don’t know why he makes you feel the way he does, like you need to touch him. Every time you meet his eyes, he’s already looking back at you. It is unnerving but yet you look forward to Saturday nights. Look forward to the attention (and money) he gives you. 

Even an hour outside his home town everyone knows who he is, of course they do, half their parents voted for his father. Plus, you’ve all heard the stories about the Tillmans. You knew what you were dealing with when he came in. The other girls are afraid of him, though. They’re sure to make his and his friends drinks correctly and letting them all break a few rules, like touching the dancers. But not you. Gator Tillman didn’t scare you like he should, mainly intrigued you. It’s been a year of this cat and mouse game. You the cat, him the mouse, toying with him in the hopes he’ll ask for more time with you. 

His friends do get dances, most of them picking a new girl every week and tipping them well. But not Gator. The girls have tried to get him to buy dances from them, but he always brushes them off. All while staring at you. You’d never offered, again letting him come to you. But you also didn’t do private dances. You made most of your money on the stage, not really feeling like killing someone if they got handsy with you. 

Tonight though, was different. 

You could feel it in the air the second you saw him. The charge was there as usual, but when you handed him a drink after your stage time, he spoke to you. 

His voice was like silk as he spoke, pushing his dark sunglasses onto the back of his hat. It was night time so he kind of looked like a douchebag with them on. He didn’t care. He was a Tillman, just as cold blooded as his father, if not more. Obsessed with his power and the way people fell at his feet, gave him whatever he wanted. 

But not you. 

Never you. 

“You look very nice in red, sweetheart.” It takes you by surprise but you do well to not show it, a practiced mask. Never has he spoken to you for more than a drink order. 

You did, however, look nice in red. But it was rare you wore it because you didn’t need to give the men more reasons to want to touch you. You made plenty of money in any other color. Red, also was the color of the invisible blood that stains your fingers. The blood you can’t get off no matter how hard you try.

You put on your prettiest smile, “that’s very sweet of you.” 

A small smile tugs at his lips. He’s fucking beautiful and it’s painful to look at him, actually. 

“You do dances?” The question takes you by surprise because, like you said, he doesn’t get dances from the girls. He just drinks and tips very well. 

You cover it well, “only for you.” 

It’s not a lie. You would do dances just for him, any reason to get him closer. To get him alone. 

He nods, “how much?”

You smirk, “$350.” That was way more than the other girls charge. It’s North Dakota, it’s rare the men here can afford that. 

But he can. 

“Deal.” You watch as he pulls the money from his pocket, counting it out and handing it to you. 

You count it again just to be sure, slipping it in your top, “follow me, pretty boy.” 

He takes his drink and downs it before getting up and following you. He walks with confidence but you know better. He’s nervous, you can see it in the slight tremor of his hand. You decide you’ll let him break the rules, but not because he’s Roy Tillmans son. 

No, it’s because you have wondered for months what his hands feel like on your skin. You’ve also wondered what it would be like to get him in your bed; what he sounds like when he fucks. You know he’s more than experienced considering people like to talk. But you want to see it for yourself. You need to experience it for yourself.��

You take him to one of the private rooms, the red room considering he likes you in red. He sits down tentatively, running his hands down his jeans. He’s so hot when he’s nervous. It makes you smile as you shut and lock the door. 

The music is a little quieter in here, the small knob on the wall allowing you to turn it higher or lower. Some of the girls don’t like these rooms, scared they’ll get hurt by the men they bring in here. It’s understandable, most opting to give them in the room where extra security is.

But Gator would never hurt you. 

“Surprised you asked for this, pretty boy.” 

He takes a deep breath and leans back, “like I said, look nice in red.” 

You slowly walk over, standing between his spread legs, “too kind to me, Tillman.” 

He balls his fists as he tries to respect the law of not touching strippers. But Gator was the law, he could do whatever he wanted. His father would get him out of any shit he gets himself into. Either way, you’d let him touch you in any way he wants. 

You bend at the waist, running your hands up his thighs. His breath hitches a little and it makes your stomach flip with satisfaction. He’s affected by you, you’ve known this for a while. But the verbal confirmation makes your head spin. 

Your hands slide over his stomach and onto his shoulders, pushing off his black leather jacket. “Let’s take this off and get comfortable, yeah?” He lets you take it off and toss it to the side. His black shirt grips his body perfectly, showing off his muscular build. 

You stand back up to your full height, turning the music up just slightly, enough for you to hear him if he decides to speak to you. And then you go back to him, dipping low and letting him run his eyes all over you. For once it makes you feel sexy. Maybe it’s because Gator isn’t an animal. He’s respectful. Or, well, as respectful as one can be in a place like this. 

You look up at him through long lashes as you straddle his hips, being careful not to let your centers touch. You don’t want to force anything on him, scare him away. But you do run your hands up his arms, putting his hands on your hips. 

“Can touch me. You’re the exception to that rule,” you giggle and wink at him. 

You can see his confidence starting to rise. Typical man who just wants to feel special. Gator, though, deserves to feel special. You didn’t grow up with him, between living one town over and your parents opting to send you to private school. But people talk. You know about the shit his dad does, how he uses religion and intimidation to keep his son in line. It was sick. 

He grips your hips, guiding you down to grind against him. He’s hard, of course he’s hard, all of them are. They can try all they want but their cocks have a mind of their own. You can tell he’s worried about it, about how you’ll feel. You don’t care. You never care. In fact, the friction on his hard cock on your clit feels… nice. 

“Why am I the exception?” 

You grin down at him, hands by his head on the couch, “use your big boy brain and think about it.” 

He laughs a little, “cause you’re afraid of me?” 

That makes you throw your head back and laugh hard, “oh, pretty boy, neither you or your daddy scare me. In fact, I’d be more than happy if you put me in cuffs.” 

He’s taken by surprise at your admission, shuddering a little, “should be ‘fraid of me.” 

You stand, turning the lights a little lower, “it’s you who should be afraid of me.” 

You can still see him, even in the dim, red lights. Fuck he was so beautiful. You start back your dance, his eyes still looking over your body. 

“I ain’t afraid of anything, angel.” 

You know that’s a lie. He’s terrified of his daddy, and everyone is afraid of death. But you brush it off, getting so close to him you could kiss him if you wanted. And you do, but you won’t let him know that. Not yet. 

“You, Gator Tillman, are the exception because everyone here thinks you’re so pretty.” 

He raises a brow, “pretty? Not the word that should be used f’me.” 

You shrug, “agree to disagree.” 

“I was told ya don’t do dances,” his voice is gravely and you know he’s doing everything he can to not kiss you. “Decided to ask anyway.” 

You pull back settling in his lap, not dancing anymore, “I don’t, but like I said, you’re the exception.” 

He hums, letting his hand run up your thigh, “I’m honored. Prettiest girl in this building.” 

“Flattery, Tillman, won’t get you much round here.” 

He smirks, the look making you want to kiss him just a little more, “will get me the ability to take ya home?” 

You think the shots he took some time ago are finally hitting him. Or he’s snorted some cocaine and it’s just hitting him. Probably the former. 

“M’not supposed to go home with the customers. Sorry, pretty boy.” 

Not a lie. You aren’t supposed to go home with the men here, both for fear of being murdered and because it can cause issues for the owner. The girls too, of course. God forbid you date a patron and then break up. It’s just awkward for everyone here. 

His hand slides further up your leg, resting right under the crease of your ass. Men have been killed for touching you there without asking. But this time it doesn’t make your blood boil like it should. It makes your stomach flip and your heart race. 

“I’m the law, baby. The rules don’t apply to me,” he’s looking up at you with big brown eyes, though they look black in this light. 

The rules don’t apply to him, you told him as such earlier. You remind him as such and he squeezes your hip. You swallow the squeak that threatens to come out, instead moving to straddle him once again. 

“Come on, baby, we’ve been playing this game for a year. Come home with me.” 

You swallow. You would be a liar if you said you didn’t want to go home with him. To let him get the rest of your clothes off and fuck you. For him to slide his cock down your throat while you’re on your knees. 

You know it would feel good. You know you’d enjoy whatever he threw at you, enjoying men who are rough but respectful. And by the feel of the hardness nestled on your clothed core, he could throw a lot at you. 

You can feel your mouth water at the idea of what he looks like under his pants. But he’s going to have to work harder if he wants you to go home with him. 

“Gonna take more than that to get me in your bed, Gator.” 

He thinks, hands roaming to grab the fat of your ass, “I could give you everything, angel. Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You giggle a little, “yeah? Anything?” 

He nods, licking his lips, “anything. I’d give you anything. Could treat you real nice.” 

“How do you know I don’t already have someone treating me real nice? Hmm? Bold of you to assume I’m single,” you raise a brow at him. You’re lying through your teeth, making him work for it. 

“Trust me, baby, I know you’re single.” His eyes fall from yours to your lips and back. 

You get a little closer, his scent masculine and woodsy, “doing research on me?” 

That should be creepy, it should result in a knife in his neck (it might’ve happened a time or two..) but not with him. However, you know why he did the research. He had to after the murder last year, to rule you out as a suspect. 

“I did. So, you can’t lie ya way out of it. Lemme treat you right, pretty angel.” 

“I’m no angel,” your voice is just above a whisper, enough for him to hear you. 

He laughs, “agree to disagree.” 

He slides his hands to your hips, squeezing gently. 

“And if I say yes to goin’ home with you? Will you hurt me?” 

“No more than you ask me to.” 

You decide you can’t take it anymore, needing him too much. You’ll curse yourself later for folding too easily. You close the gap, a whole year of the chase coming to a head. The second your lips connect with his you feel like you’re on fire. He kisses you softly, nervously and it isn’t till your tongue begs for entrance into his mouth, that he kisses you harder. 

His hands are all over you, running up your sides and letting his fingers tangle in your hair. You rock your hips absentmindedly, needing more friction. 

Gators lips move down your throat, kissing and nipping at the skin and making you moan. He smirks against you and gently lips his hips to add more pressure. Fucking asshole. You grab his face, pulling him back to your mouth, your tongue licking into his mouth. 

He pulls back first, breathless, “I need you. I need to be inside you.”

Your stomach flips again because you love when a man begs for you. Especially men in powerful positions. You feel his confession right in your core. 

“A Tillman begging? What would your daddy say about this?” You’d never say a word to his daddy about this, of course. Roy Tillman can kiss your ass. 

Gator, of course, also knows this, “I don’t care what he’d say. He doesn’t need to know what I do when I’m off work.” 

You smirk, you’re more than willing to let him inside you. But first, you needed to see what you were working with. You slither to your knees, looking up at him, “this okay?” 

He nods, only giving you a verbal answer once you lift your brows, “yes. Please.” 

Your hands move to his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button of his jeans. You can feel his cock jump in his pants and you swallow down a giggle. It’s cute how excited he is actually. You’d be a liar to say you aren’t excited. It’s been a while since you had sex with someone and it’ll be the first time you’ve fucked someone at your job. You’re glad there are no cameras in this room because you’d absolutely get fired. 

You pull his jeans and boxers down till they puddle at his feet, allowing his cock to spring free. You can’t contain your reaction to the sight of his cock. He’s huge, his cock thick and has a slight curve. It’s beautiful and you feel dumb admitting that to yourself. It’s not the first you’ve seen but it’s definitely the prettiest you’ve seen. 

“Wow…” you whisper it but you know he heard you by the smile that spreads across his face. 

“You like it?” He’s cocky and it’s clear you aren’t the first girl to react this way. 

You just nod, gently gripping it in your hand. The weight of it makes your mouth fill with spit. You lean forward, licking a long stripe up it. He lets out a long moan, his head falling back against the couch. 

You smirk to yourself before taking him into your mouth. You work slow, making sure your throat is relaxed. You bob your head slowly, looking up at him as you work and for the first time he’s not looking back at you. He looks so pretty like this, head thrown back, hands balled into fists. 

“Fuck… this is s-so much better than I imagined,” his voice coming out rough and strained. 

You just moan against him, bobbing your head a little faster and taking him a little deeper. He hits the back of your throat and his head snaps down to you. The second your eyes meet his cock jumps in your throat, making you gag slightly. 

“Ah! That’s it, baby,” his hands fall into your hair, pulling and pushing you into his cock. 

You can’t help the moans that leave you from the pain of his hands in your hair. You know your cunt is soaked, your clit throbbing. So, you take him deep and hold him there, letting spit drool from your mouth and onto what you can’t fit in your mouth before pulling off of him. You lick your lips as you stand and straddle him. 

“How bad do you want to fuck me?” You kiss him lightly, just a taste. 

He takes a shaky breath, “s-so bad. Been thinking about it since the first time we met.” 

You pull your panties to the side, settling down so he’s resting against you. The head of his cock bumps your clit the second to start to rock your hips. The friction feels incredible against your aching clit. 

You need more but you’re trying not to rush it. 

“Been thinking about being inside me for over a year huh? Such restraint you have, pretty boy.” 

He shakes his head, letting out a small grunt, “I-I didn’t. S’why m’ here every Saturday. Gotta get my fill of ya for the week.” 

“Yeah? You sound a little obsessed.” 

He nods, “j-just a little.” 

You sit up on your knees using your hand to steady his cock and look up at him, “you still want this? You can say no and it’ll be fine.” 

He shakes his head so fast, you’re worried he’s gonna get whiplash, “no! Please fuck me. Please. Need it so fuckin’ bad. B-but I didn’t bring a condom with me. I-I’m clean I swear. I-If that ain’t okay I’ll survive. But I really wanna fuck you.”

You kiss him softly, loving the consideration and to stop his rambling, “I’m more than clean and I’m on birth control. Is that okay? Still wanna continue. I do if you do.”

He lets out a breath and relaxes, “that’s fine. I promise.” 

It’s all the conformation you need before slowly sinking down on him. All you have inside you is the tip and already the burn hurts so good. Gators hands grip your hips, mouth falling open as he helps you sink down more. 

“Oh my god, Gator,” you feel like he’s in your throat and you don’t even have him all the way inside you. He’s everywhere all at once and you love every second of it. 

Gator pulls you down more and captures your lips in a deep kiss. And then, he thrusts up inside you, seating himself fully inside your tight pussy. The action pushes all the air from your lungs, making you pull back from the kiss. You decide then that if you died this way, you wouldn’t be pissed. 

Even if God decided to bitch about all the sins you’ve committed.

That is, if you even go to heaven. You doubt you will at this point. 

Whatever. 

Gator stays still, letting you adjust and letting you rest your head on his chest to catch your breath. It’s slow to come back but once it does, you lift yourself and slam yourself back down. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” He’s loud and you're glad the club is loud enough that no one can hear you. Not that you’re opposed to that, but again, people like to talk and you aren’t keen on ending up in an unmarked grave. Gators daddy would kill you if you spread rumors that make Gator look like the sinner he is. 

You do it again, finding a rhythm, “you like that, pretty boy?” 

You slide your hands into his hair, loosening the strands there with a hard tug. He groans, his hips bucking up and hitting against your cervix. You’ll probably be bruised there tomorrow but that’s not your issue at the moment. 

The curve of his cock hits your sweet spot perfectly, making you whine and ride him faster. 

“Uh-huh. S-so tight and warm and perfect,” he’s rambling but it’s cute. “D-didn’t think we’d ever do this.” 

You smile, pulling a little harder at his hair, strands falling loose from their usually gelled place. “Paid me a lot of money, baby. Gotta treat you special.” 

“I-isn’t that prostitution?” He pushes out a breathless laugh. 

You can’t stop the giggle that comes out of you either, “maybe. But only if we say it is. I was j-joking.” You lean forward, changing the angle to hit that spot a little harder, “dedication got you here. And of course you’re so pretty. Prettiest boy.” 

Gators hand slides from your waist and finds your clit with ease, thank god. He uses his thumb to draw small circles, making that coil grow tighter and tighter. 

“Keep calling me that and I’ll cum before you do. C-can’t have that.” He plants his feet and sets the pace. He fucks you hard and fast. It feels so fucking good and you know this isn’t the last time you’ll be doing this. 

Can someone get addicted to another's cock? 

Yes is the only right answer considering how all you can think about is Gators cock and chasing your orgasm. 

“Such a gen-gentleman, Gator.” 

“Only for you, angel. Only for you.” 

The band inside you snaps, your orgasm slamming into you hard.

You cry out, leaning forward to bite Gators shoulder and muffle your screams. That is what pushes Gator over the edge, emptying inside you. Thank god for birth control. You both deflate, him growing soft as your cunt spasms with aftershocks. 

Gator breaks the silence first, “gonna let me take you home and take care of you?” 

It makes you laugh but you do think about it, weigh the pros and cons. “If I agree, you can’t ever come back here again. S’a rule not to date our customers.” You sit up so you can see his face, judge his reaction. 

A slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face, “deal! Won’t need to see you here when you’re coming to sleep in my bed.” 

All you can do is laugh and kiss him, deciding this time, you won’t have to murder a man you dated. 

[horrorisunknowntoyou]

Watching From The Sidelines P.2

[SAGAU X SHAPESHIFTER READER]

Synopsis: You were living very comfortably as a wealthy business man, but issues start to occur to ruin your peace.

A/n: y/n is gender neutral and goes by they/they however is referred to as business man and your grace.

Tag list:

@randomnatics @the-2nd-random-kid @smokey-cat @moosieman12345 @nexylaza @stellakito @apple-ai

-----------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting at your desk , foot up, a pen gently tapping on your lips as you thought as what to do. Your adjusted your sunglasses back as you eventually sigh, adjusting the large coat you wore. Setting the pen down and sitting up straight as you put on your thick gloves.

You wore many layers to limit physical contact with others and prevent small cuts to reveal your identity. Even if you regenerate fast, it's a hassle to hide. You eventually stood up peering out the window, looking at the temple outside.

You couldn't help but smile at the mess occuring this time. You open the doors to the outside balcony and leaned on the railing watching the scene play.

The Archons we're getting frustrated at the imposter, with each day they are loosing more of their faith. It's obvious by their body language and attitude.

Especially today is really bad.

But even knowing that the imposter will die, you can't help but envy them. Only because they are using your face so freely. You miss staring at your face and being called by your true name. Not m/n.

But at the same time it's better to be called m/n then be dead.

You scoffed as you eventually met eyes with Zhongli. He noticed you up above, he almost taken aback by your calm demeanour. As if you weren't unfazed but expected this. He looked at Venti and Ei who are still pleading with the creator. When he looks up to see you, you simply disappeared back into the building.

He can't explain it but something is definitely wrong.

---------------------------------------------------------

You were back inside, sighing as you poured yourself a drink, sipping on it quietly glancing out the window before facing at the door.

There was a small knocking.

Your assistant, walked inside your office leaving a pile of papers to do. You also had a meeting to attend to with your assistant over new products and manufacturing.

Thank the gods for those manhwa stories.

Anyway, you looked at the papers Infront of you mindlessly. Before both you and your assistant alerted to a loud noise outside. You set the papers down looking outside, the was a mob of people.

Apparently they are starting to ralley against the imposter. However what you didn't expect is the praying for forgiveness from so many people. You can hear them and it's giving you a headache.

You open the doors and peered out from the balcony, with your assistant behind you.

"It seems their going to execute them." Your assistant says bluntly.

You hummed in response, "Most likely. I don't blame them."

"What do you mean sir/ma'am? Did you predict that this will happen."

You thought for a second, "Did you ever see the creators disciples happy? No, they just did what is told of them. Blinded by the thought of their creator returning. Plus, they themselves saw the truth. But then again I'm not a believer of the creator. I prefer Lady Tsaritsa. "

That was a lie you technically used, often to distant yourself from the whole creator faith. Plus most SAGAU fics don't include her so it's an easy lie to use. Besides giving donations you didn't have to do much.

"sir/ma'am what do you think will happen after the fake God's death?"

You gripped onto the railing, " That, I do not know. Maybe search for the true Creator? Who knows. So much years passed. They could be dead. "

Your assistant just nodded, as the blade fell down on the imposter killing them instantly. Their red blood pooling under them.

On lookers disgusting, baffled and enraged.

Others were pleading for forgiveness and mercy.

The Archons were disappointed with themselves.

But you? Oh, you had the biggest shit eating grin you had on your face.

"Miss Lee, order the finest champagne and ask the maids to prepare me a snack it seems it'll be a long day today. " You ordered, with your arms behind your back.

"Yes Sir/Ma'am." She bowed and quickly left the room. You just watch the chaos around you, it felt wonderful. It was exhilarating, the screaming, crying, anger. You can practically taste it. It was delicious. You practically felt high on it.

Eventually you took a deep breathe and calmed down.

It was going to be a very eventful week.

--------------------------------------------------------

Days later

Due to Imposters death, sales of products and price went up!

Why? It's simple the need of comfort!

It's human nature to use things to comfort themselves after something big as that!

People buy things they want and not need. From sweets, alcohol, materials etc.

Which means more mora, and with more mora that means living well and helping the poor. Which is a big plus.

After setting up the papers and finishing paper work, you can finally relax.

Well that's how it's originally supposed to go.

Now Infront standing in front you in your office was, Zhongli, Venti and Ei.

You cough, clearing your voice.

"Well, I didn't expect to see you three here, now may I ask how can I help you?"

They looked at each other, Venti speaking up first "Grace, why didn't you tell us?"

You blinked at them, " I beg your pardon? Grace? You must be mistaken. I'm just simply a wealthy business man, nothing less and nothing more."

Zhongli placed his hand on the desk, "My grace please, if your upset with us I understand but please don't say that."

You were having fun playing your role, "You do know this is blasphemous do you not? You kill a fake God and next thing I know I'm being called one? I don't wish to fall upon the same fate as them. "

God, you wanted to smile so bad, but you kept your face unfazed.

The three Archons looked remorseful, they going to practically beg on their knees for your forgiveness.

But before they can, your assistant walks in, " Sorry to interrupt but you have a meeting soon. "

You hummed, " Is that so? Well if you can excuse I must be on my way. " They wanted to stop you but you swiftly moved around them and headed out. Following behind your assistant with a smile.

After that, they started visiting you more and more, along side others you didn't expect.

Albedo, Aether, Paimon, Xiao etc.

They kept just standing around your office as you worked. They insist doing for you, but you always brushed them off.

Especially the Archons, they follow you around like dogs with tails between their legs. It was getting bothersome at points.

Even your assistant noticed this and was baffled at what was going on but all you could do is shrug and deny that your the Creator.

---------------------------------------------------------

Eventually you left liyue, to live in your manor and kept your distance. Knowing damn well they are probably looking for you frantically since you are no longer in the office building. And your assistant is taking control of that department.

You're betting at least a day for them to find you.

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, you can't help but feel proud. You hope they are ready for a game of cat and mouse.

Because your always going to be one step ahead of them.

Because where's the fun in revealing yourself now?

[elliespeach]

tear you apart | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"if your friends won't watch over you, i will." ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie wiliams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. heavily heavily based on the book/tv show "you" on netflix wordcount 4k warnings gosh where do i start, stalking both cyber and in person, ellie is obsessive, manipulative, a gaslighter, a pervert lowkey, possessive and easily jealous, she breaks into readers apartment and goes thru your stuff, shes also so delusional like top tier delulu, shes based off joe goldberg so i mean put the pieces together. this is all from her perspective, most if not all of the inner monologue is ellie's thoughts about you, the italics is verbatim what she is thinking in that very moment if that makes sense. like joe, all of her actions are justified in her mind, and she doesn't see anything wrong with them. reader has a dysfunctional family. pls lmk if i am missing something! authors note hi hello hi, i have been so excited to post this!! just wanted to clarify this rn, i am bringing in a LOT of elements from the book and show, especially in this part, if it seems very similar thats why. i don't plan on following the plot line for season one, but i needed a good base to jump off of, dont hate me. n yes, readers best friend is shauna from yellowjackets i couldn't help myself. i needed a girl group, sue me. cat is apart of this girl group, not ellie's ex along w dina, also not ellie's ex in this au lol

fuckin’ trash, ellie thought to herself, looking over the torn up vinyl in her hands. the guy who returned it obviously had no fucking clue how to take care of something. especially something so needing of love. she placed the vinyl down on the counter beside the register before stepping into the back of the store, grabbing her tools of restoration. as she rummaged through a drawer, the familiar bell rang from the front door indicating a new customer, but she ignored it and continued searching for the sandpaper she always left laying around somewhere. the last drawer she opened was the winner, taking her supplies, she emerged from the small room into the front of the store, the beads in the doorway swaying as she walked through them. 

thats when her eyes found you, examining the vinyl left on the counter. you hadn’t noticed her yet, too engrossed in the mishandled vinyl. she watched you for a moment as you looked it over, tracing the scratches that lined it. to ellie, you looked to be the definition of a nice girl. sporting a flowy sundress that laid just below your ass. nice girl who likes attention, she thought to herself, looking you up and down from afar. 

she played it cool, keeping her eyes on the sandpaper and cloth in her hands as she made her way back to the counter. you finally took notice of her when she stood in front of you. “oh, hi,” you smiled brightly, to which ellie looked up. “whoever handled this vinyl should be in jail.” a sense of humor, ellie smiled at you, letting a breathy laugh fall from her lips. and an appreciation for vinyls, rare.

“a life sentence, for sure.” she spoke, and you laughed. a laugh that was genuine, not forced by politeness. 

“can you point me to where i could find a david bowie album, ellie?” you asked sweetly, and she had to remember she wore a name tag. flirting with me and you like david bowie? ellie’s grateful its a tuesday afternoon, the store is dead. giving her more time to talk with you. you, who seemed to never stop smiling at her. 

“against the wall,” she pointed. “third box from the left.” she lets you wander over yourself, taking the time to admire the way you carry yourself. you had a pair of red, heart shaped sunglasses resting on your head. ellie could tell you liked to pay attention to details, it was evident in the way you matched your sunglasses to your dress, and she wondered just how many pairs you owned. both short dresses and uniquely designed sunglasses together. her head tilted at the thought, switching her over chewed gum to the other side of her mouth. 

you rifled through the box as ellie’s gaze pierced your back, although you were seemingly unaware. david bowie, she thought again. not another stuck up gen z who only listens to who is in the top one hundred, no. no, you were special. ellie put her focus onto the vinyl in front of her, slowly dampening it with the cloth before grinding the sandpaper over the scratches. but she kept you in her peripheral vision and she couldn’t help but notice you were struggling to find a specific one, or at least it looked like it. 

“need help?” she asked you, keeping her voice neutral.

your body turned to face her, meeting her eyes and a faux pout on your lips.“i think the only one i want isn’t here, or i’m seriously blind.” 

ellie chuckled, coming out from behind the counter, “my money’s on blind, just organized this box a few days ago.”

you huffed lightly, standing to the side while she approached you and the box. “i can’t find the rise and fall of ziggy stardust, it’s one of my favorites.”

of course it is. ellie barely looked in the box before she saw the album, pulling it out and holding it out for you. “i’ll book your eye appointment,” she said with a light grin. 

“ugh, my hero,” you gushed, taking the album from her hands gently. i’ll always be your hero, but something tells ellie that you didn’t really need her help to begin with. 

“c’mon, i’ll ring you up,” ellie led you back to the register and you placed the vinyl down on the counter lightly.

“promise i won’t do what that guy did,” you joked, reaching into your bag for your wallet. 

ellie almost wishes you would. you’d come in a few days later, apologizing for being so clumsy but asking if she could fix it for you. of course, she would say yes. how could she say no to someone like you? “you couldn’t if you tried, pretty sure he did it on purpose.” 

“what makes you say that?”

“just a hunch,” ellie shrugs, scanning the barcode on the vinyl. 

“maybe his dogs got it, or worse, his kids.” you kept eye contact as you spoke, which shocked ellie. a lot of people would break away, divert conversation, maybe even stay silent all together. but not you. 

“if that guy had kids, i’d feel bad for them,” to a lot of people, this comment would rub them the wrong way, and ellie internally cursed herself for saying it. you’re a sweetheart in her eyes, someone who wouldn’t think things like that, but again, you laughed. the transaction was almost over and she was grasping at straws, so she kept going. “guys like him blame everything on everyone else, i wouldn’t be surprised if his kids actually hated him but,” 

your head tilted, waiting for more. to ellie, it looked like you were hanging onto every word she said. and she relished in it. “–thats only if someone wanted to have kids with him, which i highly doubt.” 

“from what i’m hearing it doesn’t sound like anyone would want to,” you’re trusting my judgment. ellie’s lips curled up with your words, and she bagged the vinyl in a plastic bag. you handed her a credit card, which was decorated with flowers along with your name. and you want me to know your name. you could’ve used cash, the vinyl was less than twenty dollars. but no, ellie knew better and she knew you better. your eyes found the scratched up vinyl yet again, “but you can fix it?” 

ellie swiped the card against her own wishes. she’d give you the whole store if you asked with that pretty smile. “it’ll be back in the box within the hour, why? you like pink floyd?”

“yeah, for the most part. i haven’t listened to that album yet,” 

“i can put it on hold for you.” ellie rushes out, and she feels like she came on too strong. you could easily listen to it on spotify but she reminds herself that you’re in her store for a reason. you probably own a vinyl player, an older model you got off of facebook marketplace because the newer ones don’t match your personality. maybe a pioneer or a yamaha, and now shes thinking about how you probably dance around your room listening to music. your response breaks her from her imagination. 

“that’d be great, thanks ellie,” but she can see it so perfectly in her mind, you’d wear a big t-shirt and a dainty pair of underwear. twirling and spinning about, the t-shirt riding up as you did and as you stood in front of her in that short dress her mind seemed to unravel and she had to clear her throat. 

“anytime–” she tacked your name at the end of her words with a smile, handing back your card which you very quickly put in your wallet. her eyes glanced down for a split second, admiring how the dress pushed your tits together before bringing them back up to your face. 

“aren’t you going to tell me to have a good day?” you teased much to ellie’s enjoyment, reaching out for the bag she was holding for you. 

“have a good day,” your fingers grazed hers, and ellie knew it had to be on purpose. a flirt, and a good one at that.

“you too, ellie. i’ll be back for that album.” 

you left the store as quickly as you came, taking your sweet vanilla scent with you. ellie thought about your interaction all day, it consumed her walk home and when she entered her small apartment she fell to her couch and opened her laptop. 

plugging your name into any and all social medias was easy, who could forget a name like yours? all your accounts were public, and very quickly ellie could tell just what kind of person you were. the sweet girl who loved vinyls who had an addiction to posting online. your twitter was filled with random, obscure thoughts and always with a hashtag at the end of them. from time to time you’d tweet about where you were, and ellie tsk’d out loud to herself. anyone could find you within seconds, you need to be more careful. you seemed to tweet about everything in your life and ellie refreshed the page, wishing to see a post about the cute girl in the vinyl shop who helped you find your favorite album. 

yet, there was nothing. and for a moment it hurt her, but the more she thought about it, it was better you didn’t post about her. that means it was real for you, hope remains. 

facebook provided the basics of your family, although the account was inactive. but your parents who divorced a few years back seemed to only post about your younger siblings, leaving her to wonder if they didn’t approve of your lifestyle in the city. she stalked their pages like it was her job and at this point it felt like it was. she discovered that your two younger siblings went off to college out west and your parents even sold their home to be closer to them while still living separate lives. ellie felt pity for you, how could they just leave you behind? 

your instagram feed was an aesthetic one, pictures posted solely to appease your followers. a pretty sunset here, a mirror selfie there, a quick post about the food from the restaurant just down the road from ellie’s shop. there were also posts about your own art, colorful and detailed, just like yourself. a painting you did was the last thing you posted, but this one wasn’t like your other ones, it was black and white and had a lonely floating balloon in the center and the borders were lined with overlapping words. ellie could make out only a few of them, ‘melancholy’, ‘nobody’, and ‘distress’. 

there were lots of group pictures of you with friends. ellie could see you looked more authentic than them, who all seemed to resemble something out of a factory for young adults. you were a pearl in a sea of clams. 

out of curiosity, ellie brought herself to your friend’s pages as well. she needed to see the types of people you spent time with, seeing if they were someone she would approve of for you. one friend made an appearance more than others and she assumed that was your so-called best friend, a spunky city girl named shauna. her own instagram was like an influencer’s guide to posting online, and she seemed like someone ellie would avoid at all costs. shauna’s posts of you always had you in the background, or if you were directly in the frame it was a candid where shauna looked better. she's making herself look better at your own expense, can't you see that?   

your other friend’s social media were bland and unhelpful. ellie brought herself back to the task at hand. she typed your name into google and watched the loading screen. your name brought up a string of links all connecting back to your art pieces you’ve submitted to local papers and art galleries. an artist in new york city, aren’t you ambitious. maybe your parents didn’t like the instability of being an artist. but yet, you still pursue your passion. its admirable. 

what also popped up was a white pages link, with a few clicks, and a small charge to her credit card she found exactly what she was looking for. there wasn’t much she could do with your phone number, texting you would be creepy. there was no way for her to explain how she got it, so the next best thing was your address. which, lucky for ellie, was only six blocks from her own. 

if she could find it this easily, she needed to make sure that no one else did. which is how she found herself standing across the street from your apartment, peering into the windows that had no blinds, no curtains, no protection from the outside world. you were on full display for all of new york. first thing were doing together is buying you blinds. you were lounging around on your coach, scrolling through your phone and periodically shifting in your spot to get more comfortable. 

it was dark now, and again, luckily for ellie, someone standing on the sidewalk of new york wasn’t a weird thing to do and no one paid her any mind. for days she would stand in the same spot, studying your movements throughout your apartment. sometimes you would go to bed on the early side, but most nights you were fully awake, sipping something out of a purple mug which she could only assume was coffee, and drawing lines on a canvas. 

everytime you would take a break and scroll through your phone, ellie would refresh every social media, waiting for a post. your fingers danced on the keyboard and after a few refreshes on ellie’s end, your twitter had a new post. 

@yndoesartstuff: if anyone has tips on how not to procrastinate finishing a wip, please enlighten me

if you just put down your phone, i’m sure you could get it done.

one night she watched as you dipped your wet brush into the purple mug instead of the designated paint water cup. they didn’t even look similar, but ellie laughed to herself while you groaned, tossing your head back before getting up to dump the liquid out of the mug. this would also be the first night ellie gawked at you while your hands dipped below your shorts, she quickly looked around. no one else seemed to notice that you were pleasing yourself with your own gentle hands and her eyes found you again, sprawled out on your couch. 

your back arched, obviously hitting your sweet spot and ellie swallowed hard. blinds. were getting you blinds. 

some days, ellie was too busy with the store to watch over you and she hated herself for it. too tired to walk the six blocks and instead just looking over your social media again, looking through your friends posts to see if you’ve been up to anything. you had never come back for the album, which ellie had finished nearly two weeks ago now. but tonight, as she locked up the store she knew she was going straight to the sidewalk adjacent from your apartment. 

when she arrived at her usual spot she saw you through the windows and you looked too well put together for a night to yourself. you were dolled up and ellie liked to imagine it was for her, you’d leave your apartment and head to the store for the album you said you’d come back for weeks ago. but her hope was squashed when a cab pulled up outside your apartment and a woman who looked way too old started to walk up the steps to the building and entered the main door. ellie had been here enough to know the general look of your building's inhabitants, and this woman wasn’t one of them. maybe someone's mom, maybe she's visiting a friend. she can’t be here for you. no way. 

but through the windows, with no blinds, she saw you open your door for this woman and welcome her into your home. your mom. it has to be. ellie’s eyebrows narrowed when you pulled this woman into a hug, then pulled back and let your lips kiss hers. okay, so not your mom. who the fuck is this?

ellie, whose eyes were going from her phone to the big windows of your apartment, began to search through your online presence and found no traces of her. this mysterious woman who, now, you seemed to be having a highschool make out session with on your couch, was all over you, touching you, kissing you, and worst of all, pleasing you. that sweet smile that had previously been for ellie, was now for this woman and it made ellie’s stomach turn. but she didn’t leave, instead watched while the two of you began to peel each other's clothes off. 

were getting you blinds and were getting rid of this woman. 

the next day while she opened up her store, she couldn’t help but think about you and this woman. she was frustrated, of course. but she couldn’t blame you, obviously this woman was prying on your weaknesses for her own pleasure. taking advantage of you. it sickened her, and she had to know more. she had been through every following list she could think of and still, this woman was a mystery. and as she refreshed your twitter (a new hobby of hers), a new post popped up. 

@yndoesartstuff: lunch date with @shaunamavisxx never felt so right – at hoppers tavern

seeing that, ellie locked up shop way too early. it was fairly easy to make her way into your apartment, all she had to do was play the part. “sorry, my girlfriend hasn’t given me a key to this door yet,” she said with a friendly smile to your neighbor, who out of the kindness of his heart let her into the building. she waited until he was in his own apartment before picking your lock. 

it smelled like you once she stepped inside, and she let the aroma fill her nose as she walked around. it was messy, canvases piled up everywhere along with dirty paint brushes. clothes lined your floor from the bedroom all the way to the kitchen and she had to force herself not to clean it up for you. she examined your paintings up close, admiring how the strokes on the canvas looked. she noticed you draw a small bird in every corner, the bird is plump, uncolored and holding a small twig. it was your signature, and it matched you so well. but, what she really was after was your laptop, she found it sitting on your unmade bed. 

no password? she was shocked, and made a mental note to tell you that you needed to secure your devices. it’s almost as if you wanted her to search through it to get to know you better, and ellie did just that. it was linked to your phone and as she went through your messages they all seemed to be relatively normal. for someone like you, at least. 

loads of messages from a group chat labeled city gals, and she knew it wasn’t you who had named it being as you were funnier than that, and less basic. scrolling up, all the conversation in the chat was merely nothing of note, no mention of this woman to your friends which ellie found odd. maybe just a hookup? but even then, wouldn’t you tell your friends? 

ellie could gauge your friends' personalities through the texts they would send, shauna was most definitely the unnamed leader of this group, probably also the one who named the chat. her texts were mostly about planning activities, meanwhile the others just tacked on with fake enthusiastic responses. even yourself. 

leaving the group chat, she continued to scroll down your messages and found an unsaved phone number which seemed to be the winner. you don’t have her number saved, this is good. a lot of your texts to her went unanswered, left on seen and only responded once you’d ask for her to come over. that usually generated a reply within minutes from this woman, who ellie still didn’t know the name of. it angered her even further, realizing she was just toying you along. only using you for your body when you were so much more than that. 

ellie jotted down the unsaved number into her notes app, saving it for later when she could find out just exactly who this woman was. it was clear from the texts that she wanted nothing to do with you, and you still kept texting her like a sad puppy. it was pathetic, really, but ellie didn’t judge. she knew that your attention seeking habits were brought on by your dysfunctional family, she just wished it was her on the receiving end.

she found herself in your emails and saw you had an abundant amount of unread ones. it was a lot of spam and a waste of time, so she moved on. she decided it was best to go into your search history, restaurants, art galleries that allowed online submissions, sometimes even silly questions that ellie would most definitely answer for you if you asked. 

“how do magicians do their cutting in half tricks?” you would ask her from the couch while ellie made you both dinner. 

she’d call out from the stove, “there’s a fake table, the girl puts her legs through that. the legs you see on the other end are fake, baby.” and you would giggle sweetly as you always did, thanking her for being a know-it-all. 

but as she continued to scroll further and further down your search history, she saw that the day you two had met, you googled “vinyl stores near me” and ellie’s was the first to pop up. she thanked every star in the universe for such a coincidence, but the more she thought about it, it couldn’t have been a coincidence because to her, it was always meant to be.  

suddenly your laptop dinged and a new message appeared at the top from city gals. it was shauna and she was proposing a night out and it didn’t take long at all for the rest of the chat to respond. 

shauna: drinks at our favorite spot tonight?

dina: totally what time 

shauna: like 8 ish? 

cat: sounds good to me

shauna: im with our heavy drinker, she says yes too!! see u guys then

dina: hangin w out us :( rude 

cat: yeah wtf 

shauna: oh hush its no biggie, we’ll see you guys tonight 

ellie sat back as the texts rolled in, heavy drinker? ellie didn’t like the sound of it, and your friends seemed to think it was funny. bet they don’t even watch over you when you’re plastered, leaving you alone where anyone could hurt you. a few clicks on your instagram and she found a group mirror picture in a dirty bar bathroom, and the location clear as day at the top of the post. she confirmed it with a few other pictures and a deep dive of your twitter. gotta stop putting your location everywhere. 

ellie knew your lunch date with shauna would be ending soon and you’d return home to start getting ready for the evening. she shut your laptop down, placing it exactly where it was on the bed before and started towards the door to leave. as she was on her way out, a bright red thong caught her eye. it was so carelessly thrown between the couch and the table next to it and she stuffed them into her pocket before locking the door behind her on the way out. she knew you’d never notice, your apartment already looked like a tornado had been through it seven times over. 

she played with the string of fabric in her pocket as she walked down the sidewalk back to her place, contemplating the night to come. if your friends won't watch over you, i will.

read part two here :)

[mostmagical]

Pairing: Stranger/Stranger (Adrinette, but they don't know that) Words: 4k Summary:

“Can I kiss you?” It's costume theme night at the local bar, and Marinette finds herself a bit entranced by a pretty stranger wearing cat ears. She thought she would be content just watching, until Alya suggests she asks for just a little bit more.

Marinette chewed on the edge of her fingernail, trying not to be too obvious as she peered across the bar at the stranger on the corner.

They had met on the dance floor not too long ago, and she had been having trouble looking away ever since. He was attractive, despite the obnoxious cat-eared beanie tight over his blond hair, drawing her towards him in a way she really hadn’t felt in, well, ever. At least, not towards someone she barely knew. Not since the breakup.

The liquid in his delicate cocktail glass was dyed pinker by the spotlight he stood under, so she couldn’t tell if he was actually drinking anything as passion fruit-flavored as the color, or if it was just straight liquor. Her breath caught as he removed his hand from the water-beaded surface, lifting it to adjust the thick-rimmed specs he wore and reminding her of the sparkling green eyes she’d spied earlier.

Blond hair. Green eyes. 

She wondered if it was some cosmic joke that this always happened to her.

Even the cat ears were suspect, but she was trying her best not to acknowledge that.

A hand landed on her arm, and she jumped before realizing it was Alya returning from the bathroom.

“Still staring?” Alya asked. She had forgone her eye glasses that night for the sake of ‘accuracy,’ providing Marinette a clear view of the humor glittering through her friend’s hazel eyes.

Marinette sputtered, readjusting the skewed heart-shaped sunglasses over the bridge of her nose. “Wh– What? Staring? Staring at who– I mean— Staring at what? Because obviously I’m not staring and even if I was I wouldn’t be staring at anyone, certainly not anyone handsome and charming and—”

Alya interrupted Marinette’s spiral with a laugh. “Right, right, right.” She shook her head, the red curls bouncing across her bare shoulders. “You weren’t staring at the guy you danced with earlier, and you haven’t been nervous and jittery ever since. I imagined all of it.”

“Yes.” Marinette nodded sagely. “Thank you, exactly. It was all in your head.”

Alya simply hummed, turning to get the bartender’s attention and ordering the two of them another round. With her friend distracted, Marinette couldn’t help but let her eyes wander again. The stranger was now scrolling through his phone. Oh no. Was he calling a taxi? Checking train schedules? Was he leaving?

Pain blossomed over her thumb and the taste of metal hit her tongue as she bit down just a bit too hard.

“Marinette!” Alya hissed, pulling Marinette’s hand away from her mouth and quickly wrapping it in a cocktail napkin. “What are you doing to yourself? Do you want to get kicked out?”

She was sober enough to feel the embarrassed flush cover her cheeks. “Sorry.”

Alya’s barely concealed eye roll was colored with humor. “You should just go over and talk to him.”

Marinette blinked owlishly. “And say what?”

“Ask him for a kiss.”

“What?!” She knew her shriek was loud enough to disturb the patrons on either side of them at the bar, but all she could hear over the pounding of the bass was the blood roaring in her ears. “Why would I do that?”

Alya just laughed. “Look at you” —she waved a hand at Marinette’s napkin wrapped finger— “biting through your nails because you can’t stop thinking about how hot you are for him.”

“I– I–” Marinette faltered, her mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton the more she tried to move it. “I am not.” At Alya’s raised eyebrows, she tried and failed to come up with another reason why not. “I– You know I’m not like that!”

“Normally, yeah,” Alya replied, shrugging, “but there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun, just this once.”

Marinette swallowed.

“And have you ever been so attracted to a stranger in your life?” Alya continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wound up. Not since Adrien, or Luka, or– actually–” She stuck a finger in the air as if the thought had just struck her from above. “No, not Luka; it’s more like with Chat N–”

“Stop stop stop!” Marinette cut her friend off, throwing a hand over her mouth to stop up the words.

Alya licked her palm in objection.

“Ew! Hey!”

“You are so silly, M,” Alya laughed as Marinette pulled her hand away and dramatically wiped it on her shirt. “It’s not weird to have a crush on a superhero.”

Marinette chewed her lip, traces of the watermelon drink she’d had hours ago still tasting in the corner of her mouth. “You know it was more than that.”

A hand patted her shoulder. “Of course I do, but the point still stands.” Alya grinned, as sly as her own superhero persona would imply. “You deserve one night to not care. Treat yourself. You need to cut loose after, well, you know.”

Marinette couldn’t deny that since she had presented it, Alya’s idea was sounding more and more appealing. Though maybe that was the vodka talking. Or the desperation.

“He sure seems like your type after all,” Alya pressed, squinting her eyes as she studied him. “Tall, pretty, charming... blond.”

“Green eyes, too,” Marinette added, despite herself.

“What?” Alya laughed. She reached out a hand, flicking the frame of Marinette’s sunglasses playfully. “You could tell through these bright pink abominations?”

Her face warmed in embarrassment. “I may have, sorta, practiced discerning colors on my posters of Adrien with them before,” she admitted. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “His eyes look the same.”

Alya laughed again, full and delighted. “Marinette! Oh, there’s no one like you,” she said, grinning. “Now you really have to do it. I’m convinced it’s fate.”

It did feel almost divine.

Alya squinted once more, and Marinette wished her friend had listened to her when she told her to wear her glasses anyway. “He even kinda looks like—” She cut herself off with a hum, shaking her head. “You deserve to get out there again anyway. It’s been ages and I kinda think you need a rebound.”

Marinette wasn’t sure if she fully agreed with that statement, but she wasn’t exactly in the mood to broach the subject and down the mood.

“What if he laughs in my face?” she asked instead, sticking her lip out in a pout. It was meant to look cute, so maybe Alya wouldn’t push so much, but the fear was very much real. Sure, she and the stranger had had an amazing conversation, and their chemistry had been more intoxicating than her drink, but he was still that— a stranger. There was no telling what might happen if she walked up to him and asked for something so daring as a kiss.

“Marinette, look at me,” Alya said, placing both hands on either of Marinette’s shoulders. “You are hot. You are cool. And he is totally into you.”

Was there any explanation for the way her heart leapt straight out of her chest?

“Into me?” Marinette repeated. “What makes you say that? Are you sure?”

Alya smirked dangerously. “Well, don’t look now, but I may have caught him taking a few glances over here while your back was turned,” she explained.

Marinette, of course, looked. Her head turned at just the precise moment to catch his gaze in her own, and sure enough, the stranger’s jaw momentarily dropped upon making eye contact. He recovered quickly with a sweet smile, raising his glass in a cheers motion from across the bar.

Alya sighed, shaking her head. “Well, at least there’s another sign for you,” she said, amused. Grabbing Marinette’s shoulders again, Alya turned her back around to look at her face-to-face. “See? Repeat after me: I am hot.”

A bit dazed from the encounter, Marinette could do nothing else but exactly what Alya asked. “I am hot,” she repeated.

“I am cool,” Alya continued.

“I am cool.”

“He is into me.”

She choked, the last phrase a little rougher on liftoff than the others. “He is, guh– into me.”

“One more time, all together.”

Marinette closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. She regretted it, as the smell of sweat and hops stung her nose. But the intake of air managed to ground her, all the same.

“I am hot. I am cool,” she chanted. “He is into me.”

“Yes!” Alya cheered. “Good job!”

The mantra was like a magic spell. Marinette opened her eyes, suddenly energized. Her stomach pitched a little, but it was full with excitement.

“Two cognacs,” the bartender announced, jolting Marinette from her reverie.

“Merci!” Alya picked up a glass, pressing it into Marinette’s hands with cool insistence. “Drink this, and then get over there!”

Marinette obliged, downing the drink in two big swigs. The alcohol no longer burned the back of her throat, settling in her stomach with a pleasant warmness. She replaced the glass on the bar with a firm clink, then sucked in another deep breath, wiping her upper lip with the back of her hand.

“Okay,” she said under her breath, hyping herself up. “Okay!”

“Go!” Alya gave her one more push, spinning Marinette around and pressing the heel of her hands into her shoulder blades. “Your prince charming awaits,” she sang.

Marinette stumbled forward, unsteady from Alya’s shove, but she quickly regained her bearings. Her blood pumped faster in her veins as she approached the other end of the bar. She swore she could feel every fingertip throbbing with her own pulse as she got closer.

Just a little kiss.

Plenty of people did that.

(Although, it wasn’t something she had ever considered doing herself.)

It wasn’t... weird to ask.

And like Alya had said, he was into her. The stranger probably felt the exact same magnetism she had. He would want to kiss her.

Right?

Steeling her nerves, she stood behind him, watching him swirl the liquid around in his glass. His head tilted towards where Alya stood by her lonesome on the other side of the bar, and Marinette’s heart skipped a beat in her chest as she wondered if he might be looking for her.

She smoothed down the synthetic purple wig as best she could, and adjusted the collar of her leather jacket. She almost wished she could dart off to the bathroom for a final appearance check, but she knew she would lose all her built-up confidence if she did. With butterflies brushing the insides of her tummy, she reached out a hand, tapping him twice on the shoulder.

The stranger turned, and she thought she might let herself believe his face really brightened when he saw her.

Nervously, she waved. “Hi.”

“Hey, Clara,” he said in a soft voice, somehow still audible over the loudspeakers. His smile was sweet and reserved. Her throat tightened up. “I was hoping you’d want to talk again.”

Marinette felt like the breath was stolen right out of her lungs. “You– You did?”

A hand reached behind the back of his neck in what must have been a nervous tick— yet another similarity to more than one of the loves of her life, oddly enough. “Yeah, I mean—” Was that a hint of red on his cheeks, or were her glasses fogging up again? “You– Uh, I loved dancing with you.”

The smile pinched her cheeks. “I loved dancing with you, too,” she said. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Wait a second,” Marinette said, her mind finally catching up to the last 60 seconds. “You called me Clara. I didn’t—?”

His mouth twitched into a grin. “Your outfit,” he pointed out. “Inspired by Clara Nightingale, right? From the ‘Heartbreak Disco Baby’ video?”

“You recognize it?”

The stranger’s face seemed to light up, even in the darkness of the bar. “Of course!” Marinette watched agape as his eyes scanned up and down her body, dare she say, appreciatively. “I’ve only watched that video about a million times and this is a perfect recreation.”

Pride swelled in her chest at the praise. “Thank you,” she replied. “I do take my costuming very seriously. My best friend even dressed to look like Sonia Auclair from that video.” She gave her loose hair a flip over her shoulder as she took the moment to seize up his outfit as well. “And you are—”

“Dressed at the very last minute,” he supplied bashfully. “I wasn’t exactly planning to come out, but luckily I had this beanie.”

“It suits you.”

His smile seemed genuine at her compliment. “You really think so?” he laughed, playing with the edge of the material. “Thanks.”

He was adorable. She bit her lip against the rising heat on her face.

“Heartbreak Disco Baby,” he repeated thoughtfully. “That doesn’t mean you’re a little heartbroken, are you?”

Adorable and considerate.

Now or never, she thought.

“Can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, her chest seized up. She said that. Oh god. She really said that.

The stranger’s face blazed a delightful shade of red, and Marinette wondered if they would match or clash were someone to compare the two of them. “Sorry,” he coughed. “I think I might have misheard you?”

She could run away. Back out right now, and save herself the mortification. Unfortunately, a flash of movement on the other side of the bar caught her attention, and she was met by Alya fluttering her fingers across the way. Marinette forced down a swallow.

“I asked to kiss you,” she repeated clearly.

When he only continued to stare at her, face crimson and eyes wide, Marinette slipped dangerously close to panic mode.

“Forget it!” she practically screeched. “You don’t have to do that—” She cut herself off with an awkward laugh. “I just— whew! Is it hot in here? I just— My friend over there told me I need to cut loose, and she told me to just go for it because I, well, I mean you’re very pretty— and we had chemistry…? Oh god, I said that— I mean, no, I stand by that, we do—” She covered her mouth, eyes wide in horror over her spew. “I swear I haven’t had that much to drink,” she admitted, rubbing her temples. “Sorry, I’ll go.”

“Okay.”

Marinette froze, slowly drawing her gaze away from the floor and back to the stranger’s face. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck again, the redness of his face having faded to a lovely pink that blended with the colored shades of her glasses. “Okay,” he said again. “I’ll kiss you.”

“You- You– uh. . .” Words didn’t seem to want to come to her rescue.

Luckily, the stranger did. He eased off away from the bar, facing her fully as he took her limp hand in his. With a gentle tug, he guided her to step closer towards him. “Is this okay?” he asked, his warm tone sending her heart fluttering.

She nodded almost too vigorously before she finally managed to rouse her tongue. “Yes, yes, it’s okay.”

This close, she could smell his cologne, a cluster of warm linens and nutmeg that sent a pang of recognition down her spine. His chest was firm and radiated a comfortable warmth that Marinette felt she could fold into. She followed his eyes as they dropped down to her mouth and back up again. Goosebumps raised over her skin as his hand glided up her arm, his face an image of patience. Until it changed to panic.

“Wait, oh no,” he gasped. “You’re not–”

“What?” She tilted her head in confusion, not really sure where this reaction had come from.

His mouth was a worried line. “Have you been drinking?” he asked. “Because I’m sober, and I don’t want to be taking advantage of you–”

Marinette cut him off with a snort. “I promise you, I am completely of sound mind, when I do this.”

Riding the sudden wave of confidence, Marinette mirrored his earlier movements, allowing her hand to trail up his arm and over his neck, warm skin beneath her fingertips. As she gently cupped his cheek with her palm, she pressed up on her tiptoes, rocking forward to sear her lips to his.

His breath fanned her mouth as he gasped into it, truthfully without a hint of the taste of alcohol, and his lips were pleasantly warm and plush against hers. She found herself quickly sinking into it, especially as a hand landed on her lower back and held her steady. Her other hand dove into the hair at the back of his neck, teasing the soft strands in rhythm with the glide of their kiss.

It was more than sparks and explosions and fire— all things she never expected she would feel while kissing a complete stranger.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something achingly familiar— comfortable, her mind supplied— about the pressure of his mouth on hers, and the little hums she could feel vibrating over her skin. Despite herself, she cracked open her eyes and studied his face as he continued to kiss her.

Green eyes. Blond hair. Cat ears, puns, those lips. Her heart almost seemed to stop as she realized she knew exactly why the sensation was so familiar. She had felt this kiss before. It could only be Chat Noir, she realized, warmth flowing between her shoulder blades.

She pulled away, just a centimeter to breathe between them. “Mon Chaton?”

He blinked open dazed eyes, blinking at her as if waking up from a dream. “Chaton?” he repeated. His eyes widened. “My Lady?” His voice was breathier than she was used to hearing it, and it sent a thrill up her spine.

“It’s you.” She almost wanted to laugh. “No wonder we fit so well together.”

It only took a few seconds for her partner to recover from his dreamlike state. He grinned his cat-like grin. “We’ve always been the purrfect team, after all.”

“Oh my god,” Marinette groaned, pressing her lips to his once more to shut him up. However, his mouth remained shockingly slack against hers. She pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

Seemingly dumbfounded, he replied, “You kissed me again.”

Oh god. Oh, god. He didn’t want to kiss her now that he knew. She was such an idiot.

“I’m so sorry.” Hastily, she tried to push away from his chest, only for him to grab her wrists and prevent her escape.

“Wait, no. I just–” His mouth worked wordlessly, endless green eyes searching her own. “Are you sure you want to be kissing me? What about—”

“Adrikins!”

Marinette froze in place, the familiar voice sending a chill up her spine— one that was cold and bruising, rather than warm and thrilling tingles that her partner had sent up and down her back all night.

Her hands went limp, still caught in Chat Noir’s hold, as the spray-tanned arms of Chloé Bourgeois wound around his neck.

Chloé, dressed in a flowing gown that did not at all match the whimsical costumes in the bar, immediately launched into complaints, current company left unnoticed, or rather ignored. “Thank god, I finally found you,” she cooed. “I can’t believe you left me there with that cousin of yours and Tsurugi. Ugh.”

A pained expression flashed Marinette’s way before her partner turned his head to meet Chloé’s powder blue eyes. “You had Zoé, too, didn’t you?” he asked her.

“Ugh, you know I would rather it be just us two.”

Marinette was rooted to the spot. It felt as though her brain was misfiring in about a billion directions. And yet, somehow all those directions ended at the exact same destination: the stranger before her.

A stranger, she was realizing, that was not so strange after all.

In fact, this was probably a person she knew better than she ever thought she had.

Because if she added everything she knew up, carried the two, and multiplied by three, well...

It seemed like Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste and the two (three...?) loves of her life were actually just one.

Nervous green eyes peeked at Marinette, as if to check that she was still there. The redirection of his— Adrien’s, oh god— attention finally drew Chloé’s eyes east, and if Marinette thought she could make it out of this easily, she was quickly corrected when an appalled groan filled the air.

“Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé stuck her nose up in the air, somehow glaring at Marinette through only the corner of her eye. “What are you doing with her? I thought you two broke up.”

“It’s complicated,” Marinette said, at the same time Adrien burst out “Marinette?”

She took one look at his face before immediately casting her eyes away again, an angry red blush overtaking her cheeks.

What the hell what the hell what the hell.

She found herself almost wishing for an akuma alert to save her. Except, no. No, she didn’t, she realized, because she would still have the same man right there with her.

“Marinette?” Adrien repeated again, voice sounding almost far away, even in a room where her ears were already blocked from the loud music.

Shyly, she met his pleading eyes, pushing her sunglasses back up and onto the top of her head. His jaw all but dropped open as he watched her, recognition flitting through his eyes.

They were quite the pair, weren’t they? Marinette could have laughed. A pair of glasses and neither realized that they were talking to their own ex. And the fact that she had recognized Chat Noir’s kiss, but not Adrien’s... No. Nope. Not going to unpack that.

Chloé glanced between them, a look between disgusted and bored plastered across her face. “What’s with that reaction?” she asked. “Listen, if you’re getting back with this weirdo, I–”

“Chloé!”

Marinette had no idea where Alya had appeared from, but she had never been so happy to see her best friend throw an arm over the other girl’s shoulder. Chloé physically recoiled under Alya’s touch, attempting to lean away, but to no avail.

“Césaire,” she grunted.

Alya grinned, unbothered by the less-than-enthusiastic response. “Oh my god, it really is you! I could barely tell; forgot my glasses, silly me. How’ve you been?” she asked. “I want to hear all about the new campaign.” Over her shoulder, she threw Marinette a wink.

The realization that Alya was providing her a way out burst across Marinette’s skin. In a flash, she had wrapped her hand around Adrien’s wrist, bodily dragging him through the crowd and away from their classmates. He came along willingly, only slowing down to dodge around drunk patrons that stepped between them.

Eventually they found themselves comfortably alone in a quiet hallway leading to the bathrooms. The hallway was much brighter than the main floor, illuminating all of Adrien’s features in a way that she couldn’t believe she had missed before. Marinette looked up at him in question, squeezing his wrist tight between her fingers. “When did you get back?” she asked, too desperate for the answer to pretend like she wasn’t.

He looked worried. “Just tonight. I– I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”

“Of course I did,” she murmured. She realized she had said it too quietly to be heard over the speakers when Adrien kept going.

“Everyone was asking questions.” He pressed a hand against his forehead, twisting her heart with it. “And just talking so much about my dad and England and... I don’t know. I– I had to get out.”

Her breath caught. She began running her hand up and down his arm to try and soothe him, saying, “I know, kitty, I know.”

“Zoé mentioned you and that’s when I realized I had to make a break for it.” He ducked his head shyly. “I should have figured I’d run right towards you.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh, her earlier conversation with Alya about fate and divinity seeming oh so relevant now. She let her hands rest on both his cheeks. “Yeah, seems like we’ll always be in each other’s orbit, doesn’t it?” she asked. “I just can’t seem to ever let you go.”

His eyes went shiny, and she wondered if he was about to cry. “Do you really mean that?” he asked, covering her hands with his own.

Her shoulders dropped with the tension she had been carrying. “Of course I do,” she replied, running her thumbs over the dark circles beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry about that night. I just didn’t want you to leave and I didn’t know how to say it.”

“I didn’t want to leave either,” he said with a watery smile. “Are you disappointed you didn’t get to kiss a stranger?”

She used her thumb to brush one errant tear away from his eye. “Considering I’d rather be kissing you, anyway?” she teased. “No, I’m not disappointed at all.”

His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Not even about...?” He glanced back and forth down the hallway, as if checking for any listeners, only to look back at her with just an eyebrow waggle to voice his concerns.

Marinette giggled again. “Come here, kitty.” With a gentle tug, she guided his face down to hers, kissing him all over again.

If you enjoyed, consider dropping a kudos or comment on Ao3! <3

[thesmokingguns]

Lingerie Box w Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+

The lavender box was tied with a thick ivory colored ribbon. Just the outside of the package looked expensive but as I paid for the outfit, feeling how light my wallet was now I was even more aware of what a splurge this was. The woman behind the counter slid the perfectly wrapped box into a glossy white bag with the brand's name in the same lavender color as the box, adding tissue paper like it was a present and walking around the counter to hand it to me. I thanked her, feeling awkward as I turned to hurry out of the store.

As someone who wore sneakers every single day and a mix of leggings or jeans the idea of frilly lace and silk made my skin crawl. When people talk about jeans and t-shirt girls I’m sure they are referring to me. I’m the type of person who wakes up and uses my fingers to comb my hair or just throw it up in a haphazard bun. Dressing up for me involves some lipgloss and if it’s really fancy I usually shakily apply mascara. So today was completely out of my wheelhouse and comfort zone.

The next stop of the day was the salon. I handed over my credit card before even getting any services and explained to the woman that today was important because my boyfriend had been away for a few months. She said she would take care of me but I didn’t expect it to be such a painful process. Wax and bleach, nails and curling irons. I left the salon six hours later with a bill that had too many zeros and wondering if people really paid this much money for torture monthly.

But I wanted to impress Izzy.

Izzy and I had started dating nine months ago. After three months we were living together and spending more time together than I think people would recommend. But we were in love and that was all that really mattered. At seven months he was going on tour with the band and I was staying behind to take care of our cats and because I didn’t like the idea of being on a bus with five guys in a band and their girlfriends. I thrived in personal space and knew tour life wouldn’t give me that. Izzy was a saint. He understood my space mattered and didn't pressure me to join him on the road. Which was why now that he was coming home I wanted to impress him so much.

I wasn’t dumb. I knew what happened with bands backstage, I knew what girls did to try and get close to rockstars. SO maybe part of this all was to show him that I could be part of that lifestyle. That I fit in with him. Maybe I loved him too much and I was just desperate enough that I would do anything to keep him.

At home, I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself. I knew it was time to get ready. I had around a half hour and really only needed to get dressed. I had been waxed and primped up, hair and makeup done, skin moisturized and made up to look like the doll version of myself. My hair in soft brown waves, eyes lined and sparkled, lips pouty and painted red. I hadn’t known I could look like this. As I touched my lips, I was surprised it was really me.

Moving towards the wrapped box I blushed, embarrassed even alone that I had bought this. It was a white lace teddy, with sleeves that tied over my shoulder in silky bows. See through it clung to my skin, at my hips it had a layer of soft mesh that was ruffle over them. I had bought white thigh highs to match and was contemplating on putting on the above the elbow silk gloves when I heard the front door open.

“Hey Dove, are you home?” My hands were fumbling to clean up the box, fingers slippery in the silk as I shoved the box in my closet, gasping as I reached for the white silk choker, struggling to tie it around my neck. A small gold heart dangling at my throat. “Dove?” I turned from where I had been staring in the mirror, looking at Izzy standing in the doorway.

Somehow he looked even better. The tight black jeans clinging to his body, button down shirt that was left unbuttoned at the top, a leather jacket on top of it. He pulled off his sunglasses, dropping his bag as he looked me up and down.

“Oh, dove.” I was rushing to him, throwing myself at him as he grabbed me, lifting me up as he kissed me. My legs around his hips as his hand slid down, over my back and onto one thigh as he moved the few steps towards the bed.

My heart was in my throat as he pulled away, tugging off his jacket, looking down at me with this feral need. I felt overwhelmed as he stared at me, taking me in with his deep eyes and lusty looks.

“Kiss me.” I tried pulling at his shirt collar, wanting to bring him down as I melted under his gaze but there was no controlling him. When he wanted to do something he would do it. Only then and not a moment sooner.

“I’m going to kiss every inch of your skin. Just be patient, my little dove.” my heart fluttered, cheeks burning as I raised a hand to feel the heat on my skin as I watched Izzy fully stand up now. He was watching me as he undressed, licking his lips like he was a man starved about to get his first meal. And then he was pushing me back, my head on the pillows as he hoovered over me, fingers running over the thin cloth that cost more than our light bill. “This is new.” His fingers moved down my arms, touching the gloves and guiding them towards his body, “I love it.” The way he growled, lice husky as the tips of my fingers slid down his stomach, towards the shaft of his cock.

Before Izzy I had been a sort of virgin. I sort of did everything but never fully experienced things fully until him. He was always patient, molding and contouring me to get the most pleasure for both of us. When I asked him to slow down he would. When we were trying new things he talked me through it with details of each step.

“Should I get undressed?” I asked, his eyes snapping up to look at me. He has been kissing over my stomach, groaning as I stroked him with my silky gloves on.

“Absolutely not. You look like heaven.” His tongue licked through the lace nipping at my skin as I writhed between his body and mattress. His compliment made it worth it. All the primping and the, “Jesus Christ.” He had pulled the bottom of the teddy to the side, the softness of my pussy greeting him. “You’ve been busy, dove.” His mouth lowered, kissing over my mound, tongue sliding through the wetness of my slit.

Izzy moaned into my juices, the sensation vibrating through me and causing a shiver of delight to run up my spine. His hands coming up my thighs, a finger hooking through the expensive teddy fabric to pull it more to the side as his other hand rested on the skin of my pussy lips, fingers pushing through the slit to spread me open for him. His mouth pushed deeper, tongue sliding into my entrance as I squealed. Hand squeezing his cock and making him look up, eyes meeting mine as he tongue fucked my pussy. I was trembling from the sensation.

“I need you now, little dove.” He was bringing my arms off him, raising them above my head as he pressed a deep kiss against them, letting me taste the way my pleasure tasted against his tongue.

I gasped as he moved both my wrists into one of his hands, pressing against mine. His cocks tip fighting the resistance of my entrance.

“Izzy, wait.” He looked at me, “it’s been a few months month. Go slow, please?” His eyes blazed as he kissed me, releasing my hands as he sat up, dragging me to his lap. My hands on his shoulder to keep balance.

“You take it how you can, dove. If you need help I’ll just pull your hips down and let your body stretch around me again.” He stroked my back, eyes watching as I gulped, unsure of myself as I held him in my hand, guiding him into me.

The first couple inches pulled my body apart, stretching me as I whimpered. Watching the way izzy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he watched me.

“It’s starting to hurt. I don’t know if I can fit the rest.” My cheeks burned as I spoke the confession aloud. Watching Izzy smirk.

“We’ve done it before. We can do it again. Hopefully blood comes out of this fabric without too much trouble. I’m going to break you in, little dove. You better hold on.” Izzy warned. Holding my hips as he drove himself up and into my body.

The Yelp I let out as he shifted, pushing me back against the mattress, his balls resting against my ass as he held me down, the fullness of him inside of me.

“Sh, sh, sh. That’s a good girl.” He praised me as he rocked into me. I was whimpering , holding him as I tried to adjust to him. The size of Izzy seeming to tear me open as I felt myself contracting around him. My pussy throbbing around him as I rolled my hips. “I’ve missed you.” He breathed against my neck, clinging to me as I quaked under him. My head foggy, body feeling like it wasn’t my own.

“Izzy.” His name came out as a whisper, a prayer to the universe but he understood what I was saying. He knew what I needed.

My thighs around his hips as he moaned against my collarbone, nipping and sucking, marking me as I came around him. My vision blackened as I clawed down his back, hearing his feral groan and feeling the way his cum pumped inside of me.

I looked down as he pulled out, watching the cum slip down my thighs mixed with the slight of pink trails of blood from being fucked so hard again. Izzy was grabbing a cloth, wiping me clean as he kissed my thighs. His head sweaty as I reached down, fingers running through his hair, watching him look up at me with a smirk.

“I like when you dress up for me, dove. I like it a lot.”

[its-toast-time]

What I love about the idea of Battinson BatCat is that Selina really meets this man when he is at peak dysfunction. He calls himself Vengence, he spray paints his floors, he can’t make eye contact with anyone without exploding. She sees him and goes “I want that one,”

One can only assume that as Battinson acquires kids he slowly learns to become more human. He’s still a little freak, but he’s a semi-functional little freak, especially by the time Damian rolls around and he’s been parenting for 15 years.

This means a lot to me because assuming that BatCat is long term through all this then by the end Selina has a fairly functional billionaire boy toy instead of a living disaster and she STILL loves him just as much. She loves the wet cat of a man she met and she loves the tired dad he becomes. She thinks the man who was barely verbal, wore sunglasses inside, thought shredded cheese counted as a meal, and wore grease paint every night was just as charming as the man who speaks softly but fairly regularly, is a confident leader of a hero organization, goes to PTA meetings, and loves his kids more than heaven and earth.

That just— it hits. Loving someone as they grow and being just as in love with the person you know as the person you met.

(This is post was inspired by the fic “Not Again” by HoneySim on Ao3 where Dadinson gets de-aged into Battinson.)

[tonkatsubowl]

blind. ii

dan heng x fem!reader

it's a series now! ⛧ part one. ⛧ part three.

➽ inspired by satoru gojo! what if the reader had a special ability with her eyes and often wore a blindfold?

➽ reader is a flirt!

≫ requested tags: @truesimp

after successfully infiltrating the astral express and downloading a bit of data from dan heng's computer, you returned to elios' office to deliver the flash drive where you were praised for your work.

...in truth though, the flash drive you gave to elios was a fraud. should he open it, it would only be a security error with corrupted data. you executed this flawlessly, too, due to the sake of your curiosity and admiration for dan heng.

as a result, you were given a few days off, considering you didn't exactly have any missions to do since kafka, blade and silver wolf were assigned to those missions.

elios really did fall for it, huh? after all, you had a plan for dan heng.

the moment you entered your own room, you pulled your blindfold off, looking into the mirror with those strange, stellaron-infused eyes of yours.

right... you were a test subject to a project of another world. the scientists that practically had your life in their hands had these experiments where they'd force a stellaron into someone's body to see if it was compatible. but alas, you were somehow compatible with a stellaron forced into your eyes, deeming you a successful experiment, and forced you to become a powerful soldier for the worldly military. unfortunately (?) for you... your world was... well, destroyed for whatever reason. you didn't have any memories besides you were being tortured constantly by those scientists. kafka had retrieved you and took you prisoner at first, where elios had given you the opportunity to work for him.

and now here you were, one of the best performing members of the stellaron hunters.

... and really, here you were, seated at a café in belobog. you were a regular here in belobog on your days off.

in public, you wore a pair of sunglasses that kafka specifically made for your eyes. your eyes weren't always visible, but you always had the hearts of the baristas.

you always ordered a sweet, white mocha latte, and the baristas in the café who practically had a crush on you basically memorized your order. they always created cute little foam art on your coffee that represented a cat, or a bunny... sometimes random animals whenever you paid them a visit.

while you were relaxing on your day off, you hear your phone go off, a gentle buzz and your peculiar notification ping that rang through your very ears.

".. hm?"

➽ unknown: hey, it's me.

ooh, oh my. he really did text you...

➽ ???: oh, you really did text me, dan-dan. let me add you.

➽ dan heng: your name isn't even displayed through your contacts...?

➽ ???: oh, not at all. i like to keep my identity a secret.

➽ dan heng: i see.

➽ ???: so, what brought you to text me, cutie pie? did you miss me? ♡︎ i missed you too you know.

➽ dan heng: i'm texting you because i want to know why you downloaded the information of my entire database into that flash drive... and you didn't even bother erasing everything on my computer.

➽ ???: it should be obvious to you that i stole some info from you lol ♡︎ it's for my boss.

➽ dan heng: boss? you're a stellaron hunter then?

➽ ???: was it not obvious enough, babe? why, cmere, let's talk more in person. i prefer talking to you than text.

➽ dan heng: okat.

➽ dan heng: ojay.

➽ dan heng: okay**.

➽ ???: lmao. you're so cute... but i doubt you can come here right now. you're still on xianzhou luofu aren't you?

➽ dan heng: ?? how did you know i was just there... well, i guess it makes sense considering kafka was there too. but i'm on my way to belobog right now to visit a library. we can meet up later.

➽ ???: oh, well lucky day for the both of us. i'm at the café in belobog.

➽ dan heng: alright. well, i'll be there soon.

➽ ???: see u soon cutie

there was a sly smile across your face as you placed your phone upside down on the table. you were quite excited to see dan heng again since that fateful day. it wouldn't be long until dan heng would show himself.

the café had bells attached to the door, and the moment you heard the bells jingle, you took one final sip of the latte before moving the empty mug to the side of the table, recognizing your little boy toy from a bit of a distance.

catching the glimpse of your h/c hair and the lack of visibility of your eyes, he made his way towards your table, seating himself across from you. you could hear the quiet gossiping of the baristas as they wondered if you were truly single.

"hey, baby." you cooed at dan heng, who had a serious expression on your face. "oh, you didn't bring anyone. i was half expecting you to bring your trail blazing team for a moment."

"were you worried?" dan heng raised a brow as he looked down at the menu.

"ufufu. no, not exactly. you didn't seem to bring a friend on... the first date."

you see him flinch a bit, a tint of red painting his cheeks as he coughed awkwardly.

"this is not a date." he stammered.

"yes it is.~" you cooed before tapping the table. "order anything you'd like. it's on me."

"i don't want to order anything. i'm here purely for business purposes." dan heng said, as he looked straight towards your sunglasses.

"... the flash drive. you already submitted it to your boss, no? for what purpose do you have with the information in my database?"

there was a look of amusement. he could read it too, despite being unable to see your sunglasses.

"oh, who knows? my boss was just telling me to do things. i get paid very well whenever i'm tasked with what to do, y'know. that's the work of a stellaron hunter." you tilt your head, staring at him amusingly. "oh, right..."

reaching into your pocket, you pull out the flash drive. the same one you used to infiltrate his computer.

"i still have it. i gave my boss a fake one."

dan heng froze at the sight of the flash drive, almost ready to reach out to steal from your grasp. but you were... well, faster than him, especially when you had knocked him on his ass the other night.

"...what? why do you have that? look— just," dan heng shook his head, "i doubt anything i say will sway your mind to giving me that flash drive."

"ah, ah, ah." you mused, shaking your head at him. "hold up there, dragon boy. you're rushing into conclusions too fast. do the others know about this, actually? did you tell them?"

dan heng shook his head. you read his body language — he wasn't lying.

"...i see. perfect. let's have a deal, then."

dan heng blinked, raising a brow. "a deal?"

"you heard me, cutie." you said, looking back to the menu. you might order another latte or something else in a bit...

"...what's the deal?"

"hehe. curious, are you? well..." you stuffed the flash drive away, adjusting your sunglasses. "be my boyfriend."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..." you were smiling innocently at him.

".. wh— gh-..? huh!?"

"did i stutter, babe?"

dan heng choked for a moment, coughing into his fist as he turned red. "what—? why? are you... a-are you sane right now?"

"guess i'll turn in the info." you mused.

"wait—wait. fine."

your smile widened. "oh, geez, dearie me. does this mean you're my boyfriend?"

dan heng exhaled, looking to the side. "... i don't even know your name. if i'm going to be your boyfriend, i at least need to know your name. you already know mine."

"oh, for sure. as a reward for being so obedient, i'll tell you my name.

...it's y/n. ♡"

[supercap2319]

Masked Stranger

The sound of a finely tuned engine stopped everyone in their tracks as they headed towards the school building.

Caroline Forbes gave a cat-like smile. "Well, that's quite the car."

"Quite a Porsche." Y/N corrected her. "Specifically, a black 911 turbo."

Caroline shot him an annoyed look. Caroline hated his sister, Elena, and by association, she hated him too. More specifically, he rejected her freshman year of school and she never forgave him for that humiliating display.

The black turbo moved around the parking lot until it found an empty space and parked. When the driver got out of the car, the girls of Robert E. Lee high school gasped and Y/N's pretty sure he did too.

"Oh my God." Caroline breathed.

"You can say that again." One of Elena's best friends, Bonnie McCullough said.

Y/N tried not to stare at the driver. He was lean and muscular, but not too muscular like a football player. He wore faded jeans and a tight green T-shirt that complemented his leather jacket and dark wavy curls. He was tall. Tall, dark, and handsome.

Beside him, Elena let out a gasp as she has that look in her eyes. The look that says 'this boy will be hers. You can count on it.'

"Who is that masked man?" Meredith Sulez asked. The boy wore sunglasses over his eyes, despite it being a cloudy morning.

The young man locked his car as he headed towards the building, not paying any attention to anyone else until he stopped right in between Y/N and Elena. Almost like some had glued his feet to this exact spot. Of course he would stop to take a gander at his sister. She was the queen of the school. Guys wanted her. Girls wanted to be her. It was just the universe working itself into another Elena love frenzy.

Elena smiled and pulled the rose colored ribbon out of her long and pale blonde hair as she gave the mask stranger a flirty look. It always works on guys, so Y/N shouldn't be surprised that this guy would fall for it as well. Though, in an unexpected turn of events, the young man pushed past them and ascended the stairs, but not before turning to Y/N and smiling at him. One that was bright and brilliant.

Y/N flushed and looked down at his feet, but when he looked up, he was gone.

Elena looked so shocked that a guy would ignore her. She looks at Y/N, who looks anywhere but her. Caroline smirks. "Things just got a whole lot more interesting."

[astoldbyaja]

Fire on Fire -Ch.1 -AU JJK-

Delilah Hawthorne briefly meets a young Nanami Kento during her visit to Tokyo Jujutsu High. This was their first and last conversation before she had to return to America. She returns to Tokyo to continue business with the higher ups that she was supposed to take part in when she was still a teen herself. Unbeknownst to her Nanami Kento, whom she reconnects with, and also still very smitten with her from their first five minute meeting, decides he won't let Delilah slip through his fingers again.

"I'd rather live in your world than live without you in mine." he said breathlessly before crashing his lips into mine.

Warning: Smut, MDNI +18

2006 – Tokyo Jujutsu High

I followed behind my brother, Cassius Hawthorne, silently listening to this teacher, Yaga, discuss the sorcerers in this school. I had never been to Japan before, so my eyes were roaming all over the place. Although my body and remained very still as I moved.

“Many sorcerers, even students are called on missions to kill lower grade curses. It helps them learn and grow their skills for when they’re in the real world.” he explained.

“What are the ranks of the majority of your student body?” Cassius asked.

“The majority are Grade 3, a pretty average rank.” he explained.

“What would my sister and I be ranked if your higher ups ever acknowledged us as sorcerers?” Cassius asked with a low timber like tone.

“You would be Grade 1 and for your sister… due to her technique she would automictically be seen as a Special Grade due to her technique.” he said glancing back at me. I gave a polite smile remaining quiet, my lavender eyes hidden by my black cat eye sunglasses. Yaga was impressed by my abilities, one by one I was asked to show my ability to each grade of cursed spirit all the way up to special grade.

“And your strongest student?” Cassius asked. The older man paused in his walk and so my brother and I did as well.

“There’s only one… he’d no doubt be a special grade.” Yaga merely replied. I could hear chatter coming from the end of the hall. Someone was rounding the corner. Cassius and I looked ahead noticing four students turning the corner. All of them wore uniforms, the three men wearing pants and the one girl wearing a skirt. She’s a brunette with short hair and tired eyes. The tallest was a darker haired boy with hair pulled back and beside him was a boy with snowy white hair and black sunglasses. On the very end, looking disinterested with a blonde-haired boy who looked to be brooding about something.

“That mission was too easy! What were the higher ups thinking!” the whited haired boy asked with a laugh before they all finally saw us. They looked at us curiously and stunned.

“Hey Sensei, new students?” the white-haired boy asked. Cassius and I looked at each other immediately. Was that a stupid question? The higher ups would never allow African-Americans in their organization unless they stood to gain something from it, like the deal we had struck with them. Yaga grunted.

“This is higher up business. This doesn’t concern you.” he said. The blue-eyed boy seemed even more interested now leaning into my brother to look him up and down.

“Oh come on, I’m going to find out eventually. You might as well tell me now!” he swooned. What a pest.

Now his eyes came upon me, and they seemed to sparkle, purple staring at blue and he made a move to lean into me. I stiffened.

“And who is this cutie?” he asked.

“Satoru.” The dark-haired boy warned. Immediately, I felt my brother’s arm wrap around my shoulder and pull me into him, frowning heavily at this Satoru boy.

“Learn some boundaries… I’ll only advice you once: Respect my sister.” he warned. This Satoru snorted as he leaned back.

“Boy you must not know who I am.” he said as if amused. Cassius stared at this Satoru.

“Yaga… is he your special grade?” he asked, causing Yaga to look at him, with a grimace. I knew my brother was treading into unwanted territory, so I kept my eyes down as to let him continue to lead the conversation.

“Let’s continue our tour shall we. Don’t mind my students, Satoru Gojo is harmless.” he said. My brother’s ear twitch, a sign his ears picked up the lie in the man’s voice. Satoru smirked triumphantly and Cassius looked him over once more, already not impressed and his face showed it which made Satoru’s satisfaction drop immediately.

“Yes, let’s continue our tour.” Cassius said and Yaga nodded and looked at the other students.

“Get to class.”

And with that he began to walk on. Satoru Gojo just huffed at my brother and my brother just pulled me along with him. As he did, my eyes lifted to meet the hazel-colored eyes of the blonde boy. He wasn’t looking at me at first, but when he caught my eyes, his entire body stiffened, his eyes widened some and a shade of pink came across his nose. His eyes were… different than any I had ever seen. He seemed to be looking at me, really looking at me. Could he see into my soul? His gaze was strong even for eyes so shocked. My heart fluttered.

I couldn’t help but smile at him before my brother led me from the group.

“Who is that obnoxious punk!” Satoru purposely yelled as we rounded the corner they had come from.

Five days later

There was a small fountain outside the school yard, and I sat alone, reading my book as I waited for my brother to conclude business with Mr. Yaga. Japan was a very beautiful place, definitely felt like I had stepped out of another world. As I read, I noticed a pair of feet slowly creeping up in my vision and I looked up with a gentle, yet curious gaze.

It was him, the blonde boy from that group of students we met a few days ago. I blinked some wondering what it was he could want.

“Uh…” he said. He looked and sounded flustered honestly. I looked him over and gave a polite and curt bow.

“Hello.” I replied kindly and he tensed a bit before looking down at the ground. He seemed to want to say something, but he looked to be having difficulty. Now as if realizing I had greeted him, he jumped as if startled and bowed.

“Hello.” he said awkwardly. He seemed to have a permanent gloomy face. “Uh… um... ‘m Kento… Nanami.”

Suddenly, a form appeared from behind him, a hand gripping his collar and spinning him around. Holding him up was an angry Cassius.

“Hey punk what are you doing bothering my sister!” he snapped. I frowned and stood up.

“Cassius!” I snapped. “Leave the boy alone.”

Cassius squinted pointing in Kento’s face.

“Don’t you think of trying anything on my sister!” he snapped.

“What are you even doing out here?” I asked.

“Came to check on you when I saw this hoodlum approach!” he said. I scoffed.

“I am fine. Please finish with your discussion with Yaga so that we can go.” I said. Cassius huffed, and Kento just frowned at my brother before he was put down and he adjusted his collar. My brother placed two fingers on his own eyes before pointing them at Kento. He then backed away and turned moving back into the school. I approached Kento with an apologetic gaze.

“I’m sorry about him. My brother can be a I bit overprotective. Are you alright, Kento?” I asked. Kento looked at me and tensed, his face seeming to grow a shade of pink, he silently nodded. I smiled and nodded. “That’s good. I’m Delilah Hawthorne. It’s nice to meet you. Was I in your spot?”

I turned to look at the stone seat thinking that’s why he was here.

“Uh n-no I um.” he stuttered, and I tilted my head at him wondering what it was that was wrong with him. He was looking at my hair, eyes all the curls I had pulled up into a high pineapple ponytail. Now he looked at my eyes then my arms and his head were just lulling forward until he was staring at my ankles, eyeing the silver anklet I had on my leg.

“Are you alright?” I asked worriedly and he seemed to still be visibly tensed. He nodded immediately.

“HEY NANAMI!” I could hear the familiar voice of someone who I felt was moderately annoying. Kento immediately frowned as a white-haired form approached behind him wrapping an arm around his neck with a big grin.

“Hey, hitting on the cute new student, very bold of you!” he said which made Kento groan.

“It’s not like that.” he said. I visibly gave a gentle pout.

“Oh really, that’s sad for me then.” I said with a gentle tease, hoping to lighten the mood since the teen was still very tense and uncomfortable. I wonder why he chose to approach me. Maybe he was just trying to be a friendly face since our first meeting with a bit tense. Kento’s eyes widened at my words and Satoru grinned.

“Oh hoo.” he teased.

“Satoru will you stop being a pest.”

I looked around the two boys to see the young girl and the dark-haired boy from before.  She looked at me with a polite smile.

“Hello. I’m Shoko Leiri.” she introduced. I smiled at her.

“I’m Delilah Hawthorne. Nice to meet you.” I replied before looking at the last boy who nodded.

“Suguru Geto.” he replied.

“And this handsome devil is Satoru Gojo!” Satoru said loudly. I gave a gentle smile.

“Charmed.” I replied.

“You from America?” Suguru asked. I nodded.

“Yes. Just visiting with my brother Cassius. The higher ups invited us.” I replied.

Satoru scowled.

“So that’s his name huh! The guy was such a jerk.” he said. Suguru scoffed.

“Shut up, you were the one being rude out of nowhere.” he said.

“I was not!” the other boy replied. As Shoko jumped in to add her opinions to the conversation, I just looked at Kento who seemed to be looking away as if annoyed. However, his eyes caught mine and once more I felt a spark shoot up in my body. Why this was I had no idea. I noticed a small smile crack in the corner of Kento’s lips.

“Anyways, so Lilah you going to be attending Jujutsu High? I hear you’re a pretty strong individual! You think you can beat me?” Satoru asked standing over me with a smirk. I looked up at him before looking him over for a second.

“I do not think I could… I know I could.” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. Immediately the blue-eyed boy’s face twitched into an unnerving smile.

“Oh, do you!” he said now leaning forward into me, both our shades were lowering to the bridge of our noses, shimmering purple eyes meeting deep blue orbs.

“You all definitely don’t know who you’re messing with.” he challenged, his smirk evident in his face. I smiled some and gently raised my hand to caress the boy’s cheek. His face leaning into the softness of my touch. I leaned forward, my lips inching into his and he seemed ready to accept whatever it was I was going to do to him. But instead, my cheek pressed into his cheek so that my lips were inches from his ear. I spoke, but my words were muted, and I felt Satoru’s body still as I spoke calmly. His friends watched me, curious of what it was I was doing, and after a few seconds, the blue-eyed boy’s body was slumping onto the ground as if were a puddle.

His glasses were tilting crookedly, and his eyes were now swirling as if he were in a trance, and he started to babble some. Shoko, Suguru and Kento looked completely taken back and I stepped over the puddle known as Satoru Gojo and stood before Kento as the other two went to check on their friend. He approached me for a reason, but it seemed his friends ruined whatever reason he had. Kento looked from his friend to me bewildered, before finally his body seemed to relax. He wasn’t so tense as I expected from standing inches from him. I just smiled at the realization. I may be young, but I knew attraction when I saw it. I gently raised my finger up and placed it into Kento’s cheek. His face showed caution since I had obviously done something to his friend, but his body still remained relaxed. Teasingly I traced little circles into his cheek which was my little way of flirting and the boy’s face turned as red as a tomato.

“Maybe we can hang out sometime before I have to go back to America.” I offered. His eyes widened and his chest looked to tighten before he finally looked away another gloomy look on his face, eyes planted to the ground.

“O-okay.” he said.

“Okay maybe we need to get him to the nurse!” Suguru said.

However, my brother was stomping forward, a look of disappointment on his face. I looked up at him as he approached.

“We’re leaving back home.” Was all he said. I was thrown off by his command knowing that home meant never coming back. I looked down with disappointment before looking up at Kento who seemed utterly hurt. I was not expecting to see such a deep look on his face. But I smiled and he looked at me catching my smile.

“Maybe if we meet each other in another life, we can hang out.” I said. He looked me over some wanting to say something before looking away with a slight groan.

“Promise?” he asked. I could hear the hint of desperation in his tone. I was stunned by his question, not expecting to have to formerly seal my statement away to this boy. I mean he’s only officially met me five minutes ago. But I nodded.

“I promise. Goodbye Kento Nanami.” I replied softly. He winced sadly before giving a small, genuine smile in return.

“Goodbye Lilah- I mean Delilah Hawthorne.” he said. I smiled.

“I like it better when you call me Lilah.” I replied, and his smile widened a bit more before I gave a gentle wave and turned moving around the group of students. Shoko was trying to slap Gojo awake. Odd, I didn’t even use my technique on him.

2018 – Tokyo

I stepped inside the bakery, my cell to my ear.

“Yes, Yaga, I landed yesterday, and I’ll be at the school tomorrow. I plan to relax today before coming in to talk. I am surprised your higher ups wanted to see me again after all this time.” I replied.

“Well, your abilities have been monitored as I am sure you know, and they have… accepted that they should not have let you and your brother walk out on the old terms we made. But things have changed. We would like you to stick around so we can study your technique. You are offered room and board, a debit card that has no spending limit, full immunity from any past or future uses that involve you using your technique.” he explained. I scoffed thinking of that obnoxious boy.

“Past uses? Is he still saying I did something to him?” I asked.

“Well let’s just say he was very vocal about you returning to Japan. First, he was upset, and now he’s giddy to have a rematch. But we’ve made it very clear you are not to ever fight against another sorcerer. No sparing, no training nothing. If you take up arms against any sorcerer or student that is not in clear self-defense it would call for your immediately execution.” he explained clearly. I rolled my eyes.

They could try.

“Understood. Anyways I’m picking up a pastry and will meet you tomorrow to discuss our first order of business.” I replied.

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” he said and hung up. I ordered and grabbed my food before turning to leave the bakery and as I stepped out, my chest hit the broad chest of a man. I blinked heavily looking at tinted green glasses of a tall blonde-haired man. Black sunglasses shined at these glasses. This man was in a formal business suit that was a blue dress shirt underneath a tan blazer with matching slacks and light shoes. Around his neck was polka dotted tie.

“Oh, pardon me.” he said respectfully, his voice deep, smooth and composed. I shook my head.

“No, you’re good, please excuse me.” I replied and now he seemed surprised, and I blinked rapidly looking somewhat off myself as his feet did not move from in front of me. My glasses were pushed up, so my eyes were not showing. He seemed to be looking my face over, and I took a few seconds to do the same. He suddenly shook his head bashfully.

“Uh- I’m sorry you must forgive me; you have a very familiar face.” he said. I leaned back some wondering how that could be when this was only second time in Japan. But I leaned forward just a bit, not enough to invade his space, but enough I could really get a look at him. Blonde hair. Now I raised my fingers to my face to tilt my glasses down so my lavender orbs could shine a bit and now the man’s entire body tensed, eyes slowly widening some.

“L-Lilah Hawthorne?” he asked. My eyes widened on his face now as I slowly smiled, my name rolling off his lips in a way I remember liking.

“Kento Nanami?” I asked nervously and he nodded, now smiling warmly at me. I covered my mouth in shock. Why though? I had only met this man once years ago as a young gloomy teenager and now here we both stood again before each other. Was this fate? I’m not sure.

Maybe it was bound to happen since I was returning to Jujutsu High. I couldn’t stop my finger from gently moving toward his cheek, his jawline looked strong. But I softly placed my pointer finger against his cheek, and I felt it, a jolt of electricity moves through me. He let out a gentle sigh of relief, content. Why did it feel like we were the only ones standing in this town. Buildings and people disappeared around me and I smiled more as he smiled more. I finally began to circle the spot on his cheek from our first ten-minute interaction. Flirting. That’s right.

“I am glad to see you again.” he said warmly snapping me out of my trance and I removed my finger.

“Sorry about that.” I replied, a bit embarrassed, and he just chuckled and shook his head.

“No, it’s alright. I… I can’t believe I’m looking at you again after all this time. You have grown so much.” he said. I smiled and nodded

“Back at you. You’re even more handsome than I remember.” I said sweetly. That familiar shade of pink spread over his nose, and he bit his bottom lip and looked away.

“I-uh- um th-thanks.” he stumbled over his words.

“Hey buddy can we go in?” an annoyed passerby asked. That’s right we’re standing right in the doorway of the bakery. We bashfully stepped aside and apologized and finally looked at each other again.

“What are you doing back here in Japan?” he asked. Even his voice was different, so deep and mature.

“I’m here to work with Yaga and the higher ups. Unfortunately, I can’t say much more on it, but I’ll be here for a while.” I replied noticing his eyes lit up at my words.

“I see. When did you get in?” he asked.

“Yesterday. I don’t have to head back to the school until tomorrow.” I announced and he nodded just staring at my face now with bright eyes.

“I see…” he said his voice trailing off now and now we were both awkwardly staring at each other. Why does this moment feel familiar? We realized we were both just staring at each other before we gave shy chuckles. Kento rubbed the back of his head, and I just looked down at my feet some.

“Well… you seem to be going somewhere important; I don’t want to hold you up.” I replied. Kento seemed to be snapped out of his trance, and he cleared his throat and nodded.

“Actually, I am just running a few errands. Um Lilah, if I’m not being too forward, I was wondering, if you’re not too tired from traveling, but maybe I can take you out some time and show you around Japan once you get settled. I know the last time we met we had… distractions.” he said. My eyes lit up at his offer and I smiled and nodded.

“That would be lovely Kento. I mean I did make a promise that if we saw each other again we would hang out.” I replied remembering the words of our first and last time speaking years ago. Kento nodded his smile never leaving his face.

“I can’t believe I made you promise me. I was such an emo kid back then.” He said. I giggled.

“I just thought you were shy… Here why don’t we swap phones and place our numbers in the other?” I asked pulling me phone from my purse. The tint of pink shade around his face darkened and he nodded.

“Sure.” he replied reaching into his suit pocket and we both handed the other their phones and began to briefly type our numbers in. After a few seconds, we handed each other the phones back.

“Great. I look forward to us picking up from where we left off, even if it was only a five- or ten-minute chat when we were kids.” I said with a soft chuckle, and he agreed.

“Yes agreed… um would it be alright to message you in my free time, only if you’re free too I don’t want to put you out!” he said quickly. Strange, he came off as so professional minutes before we remembered each other and now he seems to be flustered just like when we were kids.

My smile only grew, and I nodded.

“Yes Kento, feel free to message me whenever you have time.” I said gently raising my hand to wave my goodbye. “Until later, Kento.” I gave a gentle curt bow of my head.

He returned the gesture with a warm smile.

“Until later, Delilah.”