#then I hear on the news somebody got shot in the head at a studio

[themasterpupil]

it’s okay Stephen

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || Their Future Son Comes To See Them [Request]

A/N: Just reminds me of those tiktoks, “is that dad on the poster?” “WhIcH oNe Is It?” Different tropes for the guys since I want to try and see if you guys liked that

SEOKJIN: College Au

There was a flash of green light coming from behind one of the bookcases in the college library and Jin flinched turning to look over his shoulder to see a teenage boy coughing up a storm, 

"You okay?" Jin asked as he slowly got up from his chair to help the boy, he turned to look at Jin and smiled brightly while jumping up and down on the spot. 

"It worked!" He yelled out, earning a death glare from the librarian, 

"It worked?" Jin questioned trying to look behind the case where the boy had emerged but there was nothing there that could explain the green flashing. 

"So...Where is she?" Jin frowned at the question, looking around the library to see if the boy could have been speaking to anybody else but there was nobody besides Jin and the librarian there. 

"...Who?"

"Mum! Where is she? I know you guys said you met in the library but I didn't think you meant it," Jin frowned even more as he stared over at his desk, rubbing his head. Maybe he'd just fallen asleep and this was some kind of weird dream he was having so he slowly made his way back to the desk and sat down.

"There she is!" The boy yelled out in excitement, sitting beside Jin as you entered the library, your head down in a book as you walked towards the table behind Jin completely ignoring him.

"I must have messed up the dates, I thought you said you and mum met today...I wanted to see it," Jin shook his head before turning to look at the boy. 

"What are you talking about? Is this some kind of sick joke?" Jin had always had a crush on you, it was no secret amongst him and his friends so he figured this was their way of pranking him for it.

"Dad...No, I came from the future to see you...I wanted to watch you guys meet for the first time." Jin shook his head even more not believing it for a single second but then he heard you gasp in shock, his whole body turned to look at you as you clutched your finger. 

"Paper cut," Jin walked over to you, cleaning up your finger while giving you a band-aid, 

"I always come prepared," You laughed softly at him introducing yourself while your future son sat back and observed everything there was.

When Jin turned back to question the boy on who he really was he was gone and just like that he was talking to you about the book you were reading and what you were doing for the prom that was coming up.

YOONGI: Idol!Au

Yoongi stared at the boy that was sitting on his studio sofa, 

"Oh sweet, you have these in the future too!" The boy yelled out reaching forward to take some of the sweets that were sitting in the middle of the coffee table in front of Yoongi's sofa,

"How- Did somebody let you in?" Yoongi could have sworn he hadn't heard the bell to his door go off to signal someone was coming into the room and he hadn't been working that hard on anything. 

"No, I used my time machine, I wanted to see what you were doing today eighteen years ago...You grounded me so I just wanted to explore for a bit." Yoongi stared at the boy before shaking his head, 

"I'm asleep. I just fell asleep because I'm working too hard." He mumbled to himself as he began turning back to the computer and working, 

"If I was in your dreams how would I know the password to your computer and the fact that your crush is going to meet you in fifteen minutes." Yoongi's hand on the mouse tightened and the boy smirked, 

"No one knows about my crush on Y/n," He grumbled turning to look back at the boy who was nodding, 

"I do, in fact, mum knows she's just waiting for the right time to do something about it. She's still stuck on the whole, "It'll ruin our friendship" thing but you win her over in the end," 

"You keep saying, mum, who's your mum?" The door to Yoongi's office opened and you walked into the room with food in your hands, 

"I bought lunch! I also stopped by your favourite coffee place and got your favourite snacks," You stopped speaking when you saw the boy on his sofa, 

"I didn't know you had a friend-"

"I was just leaving, have fun." The boy got up and headed to the door, with your back to him he pointed at you and mouthed, "that's mum" to Yoongi before leaving the room with a giant smile on his face, Yoongi more confused than ever.

HOSEOK: Non!Idol AU

"You know, it would all go a lot smoother if you just spoke to her," A voice from behind Hoseok said making him jump, kneeing the table and spilling his drink all over the floor. 

"What? S-Speak to who?" He stuttered out at the teenage boy that was now sitting in front of him while you came over to clean up the spilt drink. 

"Her," The boy mumbled as you walked away to get some cleaning supplies, 

"What are you talking about?" The boy sighed rolling his head back as he stared at the ceiling, 

"Mum always said you were clueless when you were younger," He turned to look back at Hoseok who seemed even more confused than before. 

"Talk to her, give her your number. She's sick of dropping you hints that you don't pick up on," Hoseok shook his head as he tried to think what the boy was talking about. 

"You said mum said I was clueless...Do I know you?" The boy rolled his eyes, 

"Ah, what the hell, you won't remember. I'm your son from the future...I came to tell you that mum was always sick of your taking your time on asking her out...So just do it," Hoseok blinked trying to decide if he had heard that sentence right or if he was just starting to lose his mind. 

"She was really pretty at my age...Not that she's not beautiful you know in the future but dad...Seriously, take a shot before you lose-" He stopped speaking when you came back to the table, 

"I'll just get this cleaned up, is there anything I can get you for you Hobi and your new little friend?" You turned to look at the boy and that was when you and Hoseok both noticed he was gone,

"Weird...I didn't hear the bell on the door," You frowned but Hoseok smiled at you, 

"He must have had something to do, I didn't even know him...Do you maybe...Wanna hang out this weekend?" Your eyes lit up, you'd been dreaming of him asking you out for weeks. 

"Sure, text me." You whispered, writing your number down on an order form and giving it to him before hopping back behind the counter.

NAMJOON: Book shop AU

"Isn't that like the fifth time you've been in there this week, mum is going to think you're insane," Namjoon jumped at the boy that was standing in front of him when he came out of the store. He looked too old to be your son but Namjoon stared at him, 

"I didn't know Y/n had a son," Namjoon said to the boy who shook his head, 

"She doesn't yet, you and her will have one in the future and that's me." Namjoon laughed loudly before covering his mouth as he saw people staring over at him with a look of confusion on their faces. 

"What are you talking about?" The boy sighed leaning against the wall that was behind him, 

"I know you'll never believe me but I'm your future son, you and Y/n end up together and you both end up very happy." Namjoon smiled at the thought of it, being with you. It had been his dream for the longest time since he had a huge crush on you but he never for a second thought that the boy in front of him would even be his future son. 

"What makes you think I would believe-" He stopped speaking when there was a flash of green light and the boy was missing from where he had previously been standing. 

"I need to get some sleep," Namjoon grumbled, walking off in the direction of the dorms.

JIMIN: Best Friends Sister

Jimin walked past your bedroom door to see a boy standing in the door, 

"Oh...Are you Y/n's boyfriend?" He questioned as he felt jealously beginning to bubble inside of him at the thought of you having a boyfriend. Not that it was his business since you were Jin's younger sister and Jimin knew if he even tried to date you Jin would break every bone in his body. 

"No, God no! She's my mum! Ew!" Jimin frowned wondering if it was some kind of joke that he wasn't understanding but the boy looked around the room. 

"I came to see if you guys were together yet but I think I got the year wrong," He mumbled beginning to tap on a watch that was around his wrist, 

"What are you talking about? Got the year wrong? Mum?" The boy let out an unimpressed loud groan. 

"You and Y/n are my mum and dad...You guys will end up together, now if you'll excuse me-" He was cut off when a flash of green happened and Jimin was left in the room by himself. 

"Jimin? What are you doing in my room?" Your voice came from behind him and he jumped, trying to think of an excuse.

TAEHYUNG: Idol AU

"You can't be shy forever, you have to speak at some point." Taehyung stared at the boy in front of him, claiming to be his son from the future. Taehyung didn't believe him of course, what kind of person would believe something like that? 

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Taehyung mumbled, going back to working on the song he and Jimin were writing with one another, 

"Mum is about to walk through the door, you'll compliment her clothes, she'll compliment your looks and then you'll get so sweaty and nervous you leave the room. That's how mum remembers it anyway," The door handle wiggled and Taehyung filled with dread at the thought of talking you the way that the boy explained it would go down. 

"I'm joking. That's uncle Jimin, he'll go and get Mum in 3...2...1-"

"Y/N WAIT UP!" Taehyung's eyes widened as he realised the boy was telling him the truth, then he filled with joy as he realised he and you were finally going to be the ones to end up together...He just had to somehow pluck up the courage to talk to you properly without his heart combusting into a pile of ashes.

JUNGKOOK: Best friends Ex

"Whatever the boys are paying you, I'll pay you triple to leave me alone," Jungkook grumbled as the teenage boy sat on the end of his bed watching him closely then checking the date, 

"Oh shit. It's the day Uncle Taehyung found out you loved Y/n...Don't worry dad, it works out...Taehyung forgives you for falling in love with her and he lets you be happy." Jungkook shook his head wanting all of this to go away. He'd confessed to Taehyung about his hidden feelings for you and it started a huge fight between the two of them about how they were supposed to be friends. 

"You're just messing with me, it's Taehyung trying to get me back." He mumbled into the pillow but the boy sighed, 

"If it was Taehyung getting me back how would I know the date you and mum get married, that my middle name is Tae - after my uncle and that you had a weird scar on your left thigh that you got about three weeks ago that you haven't told anyone about." Jungkook froze as he stared up at the boy, 

"I gotta go, but just...Just believe you and mum will be together soon. I promise." With that the boy slowly began to vanish out of the room and Jungkook was left alone with his thoughts, thoughts of you and him finally being together and everyone being happy around you.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1​ @agustdjoon​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @that-anxious-bisexual​ @mwitsmejk​

[alfredosauce50]

The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

julie and the phantoms week day five- favorite fanfic trope (Willex + coffee shop AU)

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I’m really obssesed with the idea of a willex coffee shop au (probably because i thought about barista!willie for like one second and fell instantly in love), so here’s my take on it! (Warning for cursing)

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@jatp-week

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This is all Luke’s fault, Alex thought as he stood in front of the prettiest boy he’d ever seen in his entire goddamn life- the boy he’d just spilled hot coffee all over. 

And it was! Kind of. Most of it was Alex’s fault for being a disaster of a human being, but for the sake of convenience, Alex chose to blame it on Luke. 

After all, if Luke hadn’t overslept, the job of getting everyone’s pre-rehearsal drinks would have fallen to him, not Alex. But Luke had overslept, probably due to staying up all night writing songs, and Alex had woken up to a frantic text from his best friend asking him to go to the coffee shop for him, since Alex lived much closer to Julie’s studio than Luke did and had plenty of time to get both coffee and to rehearsal on time. 

So Alex had found himself entering Hollywood Coffee, a nice place in the middle of Sunset Boulevard that he hadn’t actually been to before (again, getting drinks was usually Luke’s job). He didn’t pay much attention as he walked to the register, and as he waited in the short line, he pulled out his phone and opened his notes app, making sure he had everyone’s order written down properly. Alex had gotten much better with handling his anxiety, but everyday social interactions were still far from his favorite thing. 

Alex was just finishing going over the order in his head for what had to be the fifteenth time, because the last thing he wanted was to be on his phone the whole time he was talking to the barista- how rude would that be?!- when he heard the employee in question wish the person in front of Alex a nice day, and Alex stepped up to the counter, still not looking up as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“What can I get for you?” A friendly voice asked, and Alex finally looked up at the barista.

Fuck.

Alex wasn’t sure if he was breathing as he stared at the boy in front of him. He had tan skin and long dark hair that was pulled up into a messy bun, wispy strands of hair framing his face perfectly. He was wearing what appeared to be a tye dye crop top under his black apron. The shirt was loose and short-sleeved- which was very unfortunate for Alex, who had made the mistake of looking at the man’s arms and felt himself growing very red as he took in the impressive muscles. He scanned the apron, finding a name tag with ‘Willie’ scrawled across it. The apron also had a pin that read ‘He/They’ and a rainbow pin. 

The guy- Willie- made a small sound, something between a cough and a sigh, and Alex suddenly remembered he was supposed to be ordering drinks, not ogling the random cute boy. Alex’s head shot up, and he opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to do so as he accidentally made eye contact with Willie. 

Alex had heard people been described as having “kind eyes” before, but he’d never understood what they meant by that until he looked at Willie. There really was no other way to describe the boy’s deep brown eyes. The sunlight streaming in the nearby window lit his eyes with a soft golden glow, and Alex could have easily kept staring into them forever, but Willie blinked and Alex was jolted out of his trance. 

“Uhh….” Alex started, but was still finding himself unable to talk. “Sorry, I… um… here.” Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it quickly and shoving the still-open drink order into Willie’s face.

Well that wasn’t ideal. But hey, at least if Alex didn’t talk, he couldn’t embarrass himself any further. 

“Oh! Uh, do you mind if I…” Willie gestured to the phone. 

Alex stared at him blankly for a moment before replying, “Yeah! Yeah of course! Here!” Alex dropped the phone into Willie’s outstretched hand and stared down at the floor while Willie carefully read over his order. Alex frantically tapped a rhythm on his legs, trying to calm down the blush that had spread across his whole face. 

Willie placed the phone on the counter, and Alex quickly swept it up into his pocket. 

“Okay, your drinks will be ready soon!” Willie smiled at Alex and Alex felt himself go weak in the knees at the boy’s crooked grin. 

Alex just nodded. He probably should move from the counter, but he didn’t want to leave Coffee Shop Boy forever. 

Willie smiled at him again, nodding at his shirt. “Nice shirt.” Alex glanced down quickly to see what he was wearing. It was a really stupid shirt of Reggie’s- plain pink with a hot dog on it, god knows why- that had been left at his place. Why Alex was wearing it, he didn’t know. He had probably been tempted by fate to wear it today for the sole purpose of humiliating himself further in front of the cute barista. 

Alex just attempted to smile at Willie and hurried away from the register, hearing a faint “Have a nice day!” from the other boy as he left. 

Alex found a seat in the farthest corner of the coffee shop and… well he didn’t want to say that he buried his head in his hands, but also that’s exactly what he did. Why am I such a disaster! This is why I can’t get a boyfriend! He cursed his existence, wishing he was capable of seeing cute boys without obviously staring at them like a creep. 

Alex sat there like that for what couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but felt like much longer. He eventually took his head out of hands and decided that he’d rather get his anxiety out by pacing around the coffee shop as he waited for his drinks to be ready. 

Alex stood up, turned around, and promptly crashed into somebody, falling to the floor. He felt hot liquid splash against him and his head was ringing from the force of the collision. 

“Oh my god are you okay?” A worried voice asked from above him, and Alex felt hands on his arms as the person who had landed on top of him pulled themselves up. 

Alex opened his eyes and found Willie staring back at him. 

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit-

Willie stood fully, extending a hand to Alex to help him up. Alex took it on instinct, but immediately regretted doing so. His hands were sweaty and warm and sticky with coffee and oh god he’d really fucked up this time-

“I am so sorry.” Willie said once Alex was standing. “I realized that I didn’t get your name, so I figured I’d just bring your drinks to you, but I didn’t see you moving to get up… anyways, I’m really sorry.” 

Alex ran his hand through his hair, blushing madly at Willie talking to him in such a genuine way. “It’s okay. It’s my fault.” 

“No, no, it’s not! Here, let me make you new drinks.” Willie turned to go back behind the counter but Alex reached out and grabbed his arm- shocking both Willie and himself. 

“Don’t bother.” Alex said, dropping Willie’s arm as quickly as he’d grabbed it. “I have to go,” Willie looked at him curiously. “Band practice.” Alex explained. 

“Oh, nice!” Willie responded. “But are you sure you don’t want me to get you something? I can just whip up those drinks again really quick.” 

“I’m sure,” Alex answered. “I’m already running late.” It was true, and there was nothing worse than being late to a rehearsal with Julie Molina (if looks could kill…). 

“Okay… well, if you’re sure. But I have to find a way to repay you. Like, actually I do, or I’ll get in trouble with my boss. And believe me, being in trouble with my boss would be bad.” Willie shuddered in a way that filled Alex with a surprising amount of anger towards this unnamed boss. 

“I can come back after practice? Maybe I’ll buy something then.” Alex suggested. The more he talked to Willie, the less embarrassed he felt and found himself just enjoying being in the company of the other boy. 

Willie nodded, seeming to contemplate carefully what he was going to say next. “Let me pay you back in another way though. I’ve got to make up for ruining your shirt.” 

Alex was about to point out that it wasn’t actually his shirt, and also that Willie’s clothes were equally soaked, but Willie wasn’t done talking.  

“I’ll pay for your drinks. I don’t mind paying out of my own pocket. But let me take you out for coffee- somewhere else, though.” Willie laughed. “I’m kinda sick of the drinks here.” 

Holy shit. 

Was Willie… asking him out? 

Even after he blatantly checked him out, was so awkward that he couldn’t even talk to him, and collided with him and got coffee all over him? 

Well, Alex wasn’t going to be the one to complain. 

“Yes. Please. I would like that.” Alex hurriedly responded, furiously blushing and hoping his eagerness wasn’t too obvious. 

Willie smiled, and goddamn, if Alex thought that first smile was captivating. This one was clearly different from Willie’s customer service smile, wider and much more genuine, and Alex would have fainted from it had he not become completely numb to how hot Willie was from the events of the past twenty minutes. 

“Cool. I’ll meet you at Sunset Brew after my shift?” Willie asked, referencing another coffee shop a few blocks down. 

Alex just nodded, smiling shyly. 

“See ya there, Hotdog.” Willie bumped Alex’s shoulder and began to walk back to the counter. 

It took Alex’s brain a few seconds to process the nickname, but then he cried out, “Wait!” 

Willie stopped walking and looked expectantly at Alex. 

“Uh… I didn’t get your number?” Alex rubbed the back of his neck. Although Willie had told him a place to meet up, Alex still wanted to get the boy’s number. In case any number of things went wrong, he still wanted to be able to talk to him again. 

Willie just winked. “Check your phone.” 

He disappeared behind the counter, and Alex pulled out his phone, confused. He found it still open to the notes app, and at the bottom of the list of drinks, Alex found text that hadn’t been there before, along with a phone number. 

Call me ;)

Alex smiled as he left the coffee shop, trying his hardest to not freak out and scream right there on the street- his freaking out could wait until he was with his friends. 

He’d have to thank Luke for oversleeping. 

[incorrect-julie-and-the-phantoms]

Fanfic trope! Alex/reggie, alex kiss reggie after he says something kinda dumb but very very sweet? Thks!

Thank you for the prompt! I know this isn’t exactly what you were thinking but this little idea popped up into mind and nagged me until it was written. I hope you enjoy!

Hot Dog Engine, Alex/Reggie

Tags: Fluff, College AU, blink and you miss it angst, some pining

Alex’s problem was all Luke’s fault. 

Not that he had done it intentionally. But ever since Luke and Jullie started dating he had been absent from their hangouts, leaving Alex and Reggie to hang out. Alone. 

At first it had been awkward, both of them not sure how to act with each other outside the usual dynamic of their group, but that soon passed. Overall, it wasn’t that different than when it was the three of them. 

Without Luke there to distract both of them, Alex was paying complete attention to Reggie and noticing things that he would have otherwise missed. Like how Reggie had a habit of eating his skittles in color order, and that he had a habit of bouncing a little when he was really excited about something. How his eyes scrunched and his voice got a little higher pitched when he was being defensive. 

At some point Alex realized that he noticed these because he was staring. Staring at Reggie’s fingers, at his mouth while he ate. Staring over at Reggie whenever they were practicing or looking to him first whenever anybody had good news. Staring as he started another argument with him just so he could see his eyes scrunch that way again.

Didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but one second he was just a guy hanging out with one of his best friends and the next he was a guy who was hopelessly crushing on a sweet, oblivious idiot. Alex tried to ignore the part of him that was completely unsurprised.

It wouldn’t have been a problem, but Reggie was everywhere. At some point, Reggie had decided that bothering Alex was his favorite pastime and since then had started seeking out Alex whenever he was bored, always having something he was excited to talk to somebody about. So Alex had to just sit there with his best friend and pretend that he didn’t want to kiss him all the time. It got really hard  That Reggie flirting with every single girl who looked at him didn’t bother him. That it didn’t especially bother him when Reggie flirted with Flynn right in front of him at a party one Friday night.

That it was definitely not the reason he was sulking in the studio, trying to finish the reading assignment that was due Monday.

“Hey Alex,” a voice called out from the other side of the room. Alex glanced up to see Reggie lounging in the doorway. His signature leather jacket must have been too hot for the weather because he was just wearing a pair of slightly baggy jeans and a slightly too small t-shirt with his usual flannel around his waist. 

Alex looked back down at his book without replying, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at Reggie’s lazy smile. 

“Aleeeeex,” Reggie whined when he realized Alex wasn’t gonna answer him. “Entertain me I’m bored.” 

Alex chose not to acknowledge him again, turning the page instead. He heard Reggie huff in annoyance at being ignored and Alex repressed a grin of amusement. He was sulking for a reason dammit! He was so distracted with not paying attention to Reggie that he didn’t notice the sound of him walking over until it was too late.

“Oof!” Alex let out a quiet noise of surprise at the sudden weight in his lap. He looked down to see Reggie smiling up at him with an impish grin. 

“Hey,” Reggie winked.

“Can I help you?” Alex asked in mock annoyance.

“Yeah, hang out with me. I’m bored.” 

Alex rolled his eyes and looked back down at his book. “Go bother Luke.” 

“Luke’s with Julie for their six months,” Reggie waved his hand dismissively. 

“How disappointing for you,” Alex said dryly.

“I wanna hang out with you more anyways,” Reggie’s impish smile turned bashful at that. How he managed to look bashful while draped across Alex like a cat was beyond him. 

Even though Reggie had said it many times before, a warm feeling blossomed in Alex’s chest and he couldn’t help the small smile he felt stretch across his face. He hid his face in his book as he felt the warmth spread to his cheeks. Reggie shifted so only his head was in Alex’s lap instead of his whole body. They sat in silence for a moment, Alex pretending to read and that he didn’t notice Reggie’s expectant gaze.

Alex finally broke the silence. “Even if I wanted to hang out, I gotta finish this book by tonight so I have time for practice later.” He hoped that would be enough of an excuse to get Reggie to go away. “I have an exam tomorrow, and I’m not about to give Professor Covington a reason to fail me.”

“His obsession with failing you is kinda weird, huh?” Reggie mused. “Maybe he’s trying to fail cause he wants you to stay with him another year.” Reggie nudged Alex to look at him, eyebrows waggling. “Maybe Professor Covington has a crush on you.”

Alex shuddered and the other boy started shaking with laughter at his own joke. “Please no.”

“If you don’t want to do it you could always drop out and start a company with me.”

“Don’t you think that would be impractical?” Alex replied in a teasing tone. 

Reggie scoffed.  “Course not. I got the whole thing planned out”

“Okay,” Alex laughed, lowering his book, “then what does our company do?”

“Uh…” Reggie reached a hand up to scratch his nose pensively.

“Let me get this straight,” Alex said. He restrained himself from adding ‘which I am not.’ “You want me, a broke college student, to drop out of college with you, another broke college student, to start a company which you have no plan for?”

“Hold on,” Reggie said defensively, sitting up so he and Alex were face to face. “I totally have a plan.” 

Alex’s mouth went dry as Reggie put his face so close to his own, his field of vision narrowing to dark green eyes and lips stretched into a crooked grin. All he would have to do to close the gap would be to lean forward just a couple inches—

“Prove it,” Alex teased, mentally chasing the thoughts from his head as he gently pushed Reggie further away. He had gotten good at ignoring those kinds of thoughts the past couple months.

Reggie stood with exaggerated showmanship. “Well, I am so glad that you asked.” He grabbed the flannel from his waist, tied it around his neck like a really crappy cape, and struck a dramatic pose. “Are you ready for this awesome?” He asked with mock seriousness.

Dork, Alex thought to himself. “By all means Reginald. Blow me away.” Reggie opened his mouth and Alex just knew he was going to hear the biggest load of bullshit ever.

“Well, my slightly taller friend, have you ever been walking down the street and realized that if you didn’t get a hotdog in the next ten minutes you would die?’”

“No.” 

“Have you been looking for an easy way to get meals while on a long car trip that doesn't involve stopping at a restaurant?”

“Still no.”

“Have you ever wondered if you were getting the most out of your vehicle?”

“I don’t have a car Reg,” Alex reminded him. Where was he going with this?

“Well,” Reggie drove forward undeterred, “have I got news for you. Now introducing…” Reggie paused his theatrics to look over at Alex expectantly, “little help?” Alex rolled his eyes and began to give a drumroll with his feet. “Now introducing… the hot dog engine!” 

Alex snorted. “The what?”

“The hot dog engine!” Reggie said excitedly. “On the outside, a regular car. But when you pop open the hood, BAM!” Reggie loudly clapped his hands together, “a hot dog cooker right next to your engine, powered by the same battery!”

Alex started laughing at that. “Reggie, that is so dangerous. You could get oil or battery acid on the hot dogs which would kill you.”

Reggie gasped in offense, “where is your sense of adventure?”

“Must have lost it when I lived past the ripe old age of 18,” Alex said back dryly.

Reggie huffed before readapting his dramatic businessman persona. “Well not to worry, I have plenty more where that came from.”

“Oh goodness please no,” Alex said in mock horror.

“Leashes for fish,” Reggie shot out.

“Useless”

“Crocs that smell like pumpkin spice.”

“Who’s purposely gonna smell them?”

“Pet rocks.”

“Already done.”

“Umbrellas for your shoes,”

“What’s with you and feet?”

Reggie choked on a laugh and stared at him for a moment. Alex was definitely amused by this whole conversation, but if Reggie kept staring at him and saying stupid things that made him laugh they were gonna have a problem. He needed to shut Reggie up somehow.

His friend opened his mouth to suggest his next ridiculous idea, “what about an air cannon that blows out candles for you—hmph!”

The tiny ‘hmph’ of surprise was because Alex had figured how to shut him up, by launching himself across the room and pressing their lips together.

Oh god, Alex thought to himself the moment he realized he was kissing him. He pulled away, stepping back to look at Reggie who was staring at him wide-eyed, frozen in shock. Oh crap, oh god. What did I do? He’s gonna freak out he's gonna hate me he’s gonna—

“Well that just gave me a great idea,” Reggie cut through Alex’s train of thoughts.

“R-Reggie I’m so sorry,” Alex quickly stammered out his apology. 

“Alex—” Reggie tried to speak.

“I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that. I know you and Flynn just started having a thing and that you don’t like me that way—”

“ALEX,” Reggie said more forcefully. Alex stopped his rambling and stared up at his friend anxiously. Reggie took a deep breath, “my idea was that you could just bring your boyfriend to lecture to show Professor Covington you aren’t interested in him.”

That didn’t make sense, “who’s my boyfriend?”

“Well me, if you stop freaking out long enough to kiss me again.” Reggie’s face turned bright red as he processed what he said. “I-I mean if you want to. You don’t gotta um…” 

Alex felt the wide smile on his own face as he processed what Reggie was saying. He reached out and interlocked their fingers together. “Can I kiss you again Reggie?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The second kiss was so much better than the first. The soft press of Reggie’s lips against his own made the butterflies he had been trying to digest for months fly around his chest for free. The hand that wasn’t holding Reggie’s moved up to cup the back of his head.

Eventually, Reggie pulled away, his breath was a little quicker than before and his cheeks were flushed. Alex felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest with anxiety and excitement. 

“I should probably tell you that I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Reggie laughed.

“Oh,” Alex felt the tips of his ears burn. “Yeah. Uh, yeah. I mean, me too.” 

The answering smile from the boy in front of him was blinding. “Oh nice, does that mean I can be your boyfriend and make Professor Covington jealous?”

“You do know professor Covington just hates me cause he hates everyone right?”

“Alex,” Reggie huffed in annoyance, “you’re ruining the moment.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can be my boyfriend.”

Leaning in for their third kiss was Reggie’s response to that statement, and it was even better than the second.

Then the fourth which was better than the third. Then the fifth that was better than the sixth and so on until they both eventually lost count.

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Last Dance

Warnings: Drug use, Nightclub, Vampires AO3

1984.

What a year.

The Cooperative had booked Limelight in New York City, the club had been around for a year, but it was already known for its punk and disco scene.

The reason for this event was the head of the clan.

Michael Langdon and his wife were celebrating 100 years of marriage.

The 90th year was celebrated in Studio 54, but the Langdon’s liked a change of scenery, always involving themselves in the newest trends and subcultures. They were an interesting pair really, the perfect blend of punk and disco. They hadn’t aged since they had their daughter in 1890, looking just as young as their children who were snorting coke somewhere in the crowd.

Xavier Plympton was also amongst the party goers. One of their oldest family friends, he just had to be here on this special occasion.

But looking at the pair giggling away, stirred something inside him.

100 years was a long time to love someone, to be bound to them for so long. He too had been alive for the same time that they had, so why hadn’t he found somebody to share the next 100 years with?

Maybe the universe would answer his questions tonight.

////

How on earth you got into this club was beyond you. You managed to slip past the bouncer with your friend, giddy at the prospect of partying in an old church.

You took in the crowd as you walked towards the bar. You hadn’t seen this many beautiful people in one place ever before. The lighting made the sweat on their skin glow with an ethereal light.

But one face stood out to you the most. His little cross earring glinted in the light, you felt his blue eyes stare right into your soul, giving you a little smirk as you made eye contact.

You were snapped out of your daze by your friend; holding out her nail to you. You blinked, regaining your bearings before leaning forward and snorting the white powder. You wiped around your nose and sniffed, grabbing your drink from her before making your way to the dancefloor. You tried to look for the mysterious blond, but he was nowhere to be found.

You tried not to think about him too much, letting the music take over. It was a strange blend, swinging from punk to disco, but the DJ was amazing, and the combination worked in a strange way.

You were on your fourth drink and god knows what line by the time you saw the man again. He had crashed into you, making you spill your drink all over yourself and him.

“Sorry about that sweetheart,” he shouted over the music.

“It’s okay, noting that can’t be cleaned,” you shouted back, gesturing towards the light stain on your dark shirt.

“Let me get you a drink at least?” he asked.

You shrugged and nodded, never saying no to free booze. He took you by the hand towards the bar.

“Whats your name?” he spoke into your ear.

“Y/N! Yours?”

“Xavier. But people call me Xav.”

“Oh, that’s such a cool name,” you giggled, the mix of substances clearly getting to you.

You got to the bar and Xavier ordered shots of tequila. He watched your tongue as you licked your hand, ready for the salt. You watched him as he did the same, the pair of you wondering what talents the other might have had.

Before you could take your shot, Xavier took your hand, making eye contact with you as he made a show of licking the salt off it. You blushed at his actions, returning the favour after he took his shot.

‘Like a virgin, touched for the very first time’

Madonna’s lyrics rang through the room. You pulled Xavier back onto the dancefloor, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer by the waist, letting you feel his growing length.

‘Gonna give you all my love, boy’

You mouthed the lyrics, swinging your hips to the beat. Xavier raised his brow, before leaning in to suck along your neck, not paying any attention to the people surrounding you. The music was far too loud for anyone to hear you moaning when he sucked on your sweet spot. You pulled him closer to you, running your hands through the back of his hair, tugging a little. His groan into your neck sent vibrations straight to your core.

‘Feels so good inside, when you hold me’

His hands travelled up your skirt, squeezing your ass before his hands reached for your core. He pulled away from your neck, smirking as he felt your soaked panties. You only bit your lip in return. That was your silent confirmation. Xavier gave you a quick peck before taking you off the dancefloor for the second time that night.

////

He pushed you into the closest room he could find; A small cloak room. He slammed you back against the door, attacking your mouth with his. His tongue immediately explored the inside of your mouth, his hands groping you through your thin top.

You ran your nails down his chest, before reaching his pants, making quick work of his belt and zipper.

“Baby girl, you’re so eager,” he laughed. He was cut short when you ran your thumb over his leaking head. You thought he made the prettiest face when he moaned.

You licked your lips as you sank down onto your knees, eager to have him in your mouth, ‘Bad reputation’ blasting in the background.

You licked him from the base, right to the tip, taking your time to swirl your tongue around the tip. Xavier had enough of your teasing, gripping your hair before pushing himself all the way down your throat, making you gag around him.

“Ah, Shit,” he hissed beginning to thrust into your mouth.

He looked down into your watery eyes, the sight making him groan even louder. Spit ran out of your mouth, stringing all the way to your cleavage. His hands loosened their grip, letting you pull off him completely.

“I want you to cum inside me,” you said, wiping your mouth and getting back on your feet.

Xavier grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Jump”, he commanded, holding onto your hips. You complied and he pushed you against the door.

He pulled your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet folds.

“Your pussies soaked for me; I don’t even have to finger you huh?”

His dirty talk made you clench around nothing, further adding to your arousal. He chuckled at your whining, slowly easing himself inside you. He watched your face contort in pleasure, getting used to his stretch.

He hadn’t seen a face that good in decades. Your warmth pulsing around him had made him forget about the world outside the cloakroom. When was the last time he had felt like this?

The way you tenderly held his face snapped him out of his thoughts, your gentle smile turned into an ‘O’ as he began to thrust inside you. Now was not the time for self-reflection.

The sound skin on skin echoed through the room. The door rattled with every thrust of Xavier’s hips.

His thumb reached for you clit, making you squeeze around him.

“X- Xavier I think …” you were breathless.

“Let go for me baby, let me hear you.”

A few more sharp thrusts are all it took for you to come undone. You closed your eyes and threw your head back in ecstasy, bashing it on the closed door.

Xavier took it as an invitation, licking his lips and bearing his fangs before sinking his teeth into your already bruised flesh. Your eyes shot open and you wanted to scream in pain, but Xavier slammed his hand over your mouth, muffling the screams. The taste of your sweet blood made him cum, painting your walls with his seed.

The pain mixed into the pleasure, the strange haze leaving you disorientated as he pulled out of you. You slumped back against the door, Xavier’s arms the only thing keeping you up.

You looked at him through bleary eyes; it was a strange scene, Donna Summer’s ‘Last Dance’ was muffled through the door, Xavier was grinning at you with a bloody mouth.

‘Can you fill my appetite?’

“I think I’ll keep you around baby.”

[shoot-the-oneshot]

What’s missing : chapter one

Series summary: The team thinks Auston needs a bodyguard after a series of close calls, he hates the idea until he sees a interview with a girl and her dog that find missing people and falls for her at first sight. Maybe it’s his turn to find what was missing.

Auston Matthews x reader

“Are you really watching that video again? Bro that’s just sad!”

Mitch yelled, gaining the rest of the guys attention on Austons computer.

“Is he watching that interview with that girl again?”

Rolling his eyes at chirps, he pauses the video. He know it’s almost obsessive with how often he’s watched it. But she was beautiful and amazing at her job, he couldn’t help it. But if anyone asked he was just impressed with what they do.

“Will you both shut up so I can hear!”

Pressing play, ignoring the reporter only seeing her, the police vest she was wearing matched her dogs vest perfectly. Barley hearing Williams quite mumble of ‘like he doesn’t have it memorized’ only hearing her voice.

“My name is Ashley banks, I’m sure you all remember the amber alert earlier this week for Boyd Harris and I’m here with the very special team that found him Y/n and her furry partner Riot, who found the miss boy in only two hours. Let’s hear the story from the hero’s themselves. Y/n, what can you tell us about when you got the call?”

He was familiar with reporters and their boring questions, but he wished she would ask Y/n a thousand more just so he could listen.

“Well Ashley, we are under contract with the police department here and we have the highest success rate for missing people so this wasn’t anything new for Riot and I.

He got separated from his family on a hike and when they couldn’t find him we got called in. We got his scent from his car seat and I let Riot do his job, we found him two miles away from where they last saw him and we brought him back to his parents.”

“Wow, and when you say under contract with the police what does that mean?”

“I personally trained Riot for search and when the police found out about our high success rate they brought us on, being a smaller town they don’t have the budget for a k9 team so when they need assistance with missing persons, drug search or finding a suspect that got away we get called in. We have the uniform and a badge but we aren’t trained for police work.”

“Well we are glad that we have you both and thank you for your time, now back to the studio with Ryan for weather.”

“Dude, just message her and say hi.”

“What am I going to say Will? Hi, We’ve never talked but your dog is cute and I like cute dogs, so we have that in common. That’s stupid I wouldn’t even message me back!”

While the two players bicker back and forth an idea pops in Mitch’s head. It will either help his friend on many levels or Austin will hate it with a passion. Either way Mitch had to talk to Dubas.

———————————🐺——————————-

“Police with a k9 if you run you will get bit!”

You yelled over Riots barks and growls. Holding him back by his vest while he lunges with excitement. When the suspect takes off despite your warning you released the dog.

He was no match for Riots speed, who quickly took him down and holding him in the ground until you and a few back up officers caught up. Calling Riot off, praising him with his favorite toy. While the rookie officer in the bite suit got up. It was training day for the K9 department aka you, so you were both at the academy with officers watching and volunteering when you needed someone to search for, or in this case for bite work.

“Y/L! Chief wants you in the office.”

“Uh oh somebody’s in trouble!”

Mocked Jim, rolling your eyes, shoving him into the fence. Laughing as Riot gives a sharp bark when Jim tries to push you back.

“Mess with the dog get bit Jim,”

You sang, walking through the boring white hallway, for being a police station it looks a lot like a hospital. Knocking on the chiefs door, getting waved in.

“You called for me sir.”

Standing by the door Riot at your side eyeing the two men not wearing a uniform, why would anyone wear a suit here?

“Actually I did, pleasure to meet you, I’m Kyle Dubas, that is my assistant Peter, and to get to the point I’d like to offer a job.”

Shaking both of their hand, looking between him and your chief. Confusion written all over your face.

“Are you from another department?”

“Not exactly, why don’t you sit.” Kyle said, waving to the third chair surrounding the desk. “I’m a GM for the NHL team the Toronto maple leafs, and I’m looking for a bodyguard for one of my main players. I think you and Riot would be perfect.”

“Toronto Canada?”

“We understand you’d be losing your job and moving away from you family, but you will be well compensated.”

It was Peter that spoke then. You did love hockey but you weren’t exactly a cop, you didn’t know much about being a bodyguard.

“Y/L, it’s a great opportunity. Go to Toronto give it a few months if you don’t like it you can come back here.”

And just like that you were on a flight to Toronto.

The sound of your foot tapping echos through the hallway as your eyes dart around. You had to admit it’s pretty cool seeing this part of the area.

“So what we wait here?”

You asked Peter who was standing beside you, leaned against the wall outside the conference room where they were trying to convince Auston he needed a bodyguard before pulling out the “big guns” as Pete called you.

Not looking away from tapping on his phone he sighs.

“Knowing how stubborn he is it won’t be long.” Just as he finished talking yells erupted from inside.

“I said I don’t need someone following me around! You can’t give me a week without bringing this back up!”

Peter raising his eyebrows giving me a ‘I told you so’ look. Pausing as we hear Dubus walking towards the door to open it.

“You might change your mind after you see who they picked out.”

Mitch teases causing Auston to groan.

“I don’t care- Y/n? I mean Hello!”

He chirps, wide eyed as you walk through the door. He couldn’t believe it, there you were just five feet away.

“Matthews,” You hummed, looking around the room at a bunch of people you don’t recognize but one was copying Peters smirk perfectly. Your words might have been short but in your defense you weren’t exactly used to needed approval before you started a job.

“You’re, shes the bodyguard?”

Auston continues to choke as Marner mocks him.

“I know right! Why do you get the hot one?”

He laughs barely dodging Austons hand as he whipped it back towards his head.

“So what do you say about having a bodyguard now?”

Kyle asked, not getting an answer as the man in question stares blankly. While they talked you got a good look at Auston, tall dark and handsome exactly what you’d expect of a hockey player.

“You know Kyle, if you really think I need a bodyguard then who am I to argue. Is there anything I need to sign, how does this work?”

Well he changed his mind quickly, how odd and you didn’t miss his friend and Peters smirks either. As you all take a seat to finalize some details. Kyle already gave you the run down. You’ll take Austons spare bedroom, and basically be glued to his side 24/7 only when he’s at practice that’s when the other bodyguards or security train together. After the paperwork was signed, Auston offered to take you back to the hotel to get your stuff and Riot.

“So you’re a bodyguard?” His deep voice rasps out. As you walked through the parking garage.

“No, my K9 and I are police, but Mr. Dubas said our training as patrol and search and rescue work makes us more valuable then just a bodyguard.”

You really didn’t understand his thinking but your chief was right. This was a good opportunity and could be fun, so why not give it a shot.

[aion-rsa]

How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon

https://ift.tt/30jSLcc

The year 2000 was a scary one for horror films and not always in a good way.  

While American Psycho and The Cell offered up visually striking nihilistic thrills to genre fans, the majority of horror movies released at the dawn of the new millennium were at best forgettable and, at worst, lamentable – yes, we’re looking at you, Leprechaun in the Hood.  

This was the year of duff sequels like Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2, Urban Legends: Final Cut and, though it is painful to admit, Scream 3. Horror fans were screaming out for something different, something exciting. They found it with Final Destination.  

Discarding the stalk-and-slash thrills that had enjoyed a revival in the years following the release of Scream, Final Destination centered on a group of high schoolers who end up avoiding a fatal plane crash thanks to a premonition, only to discover there is no escaping death’s plan as one by one they are offed in a variety of brilliantly inventive “accidents”.  

Released in March of that year, Final Destination was a sleeper hit with word-of-mouth helping the film to clean up at the box office, earning $112 million off a $23 million budget with more than half of that coming internationally.  

To date, it has spawned four sequels as well as a variety of novelisations and comic book spin-offs while a franchise reboot is also on the horizon.  

Read more

Movies

The Final Destination Movies, Ranked

By Sarah Dobbs

Jeffrey Reddick has worked on several films during his career to date but he’s probably best known as the creator of Final Destination. It’s something he has come to terms with.  

“It’s probably going to end up on my gravestone, it’s such an ironic title,” he tells Den of Geek.  

“Sometimes I’ll be out and I will hear someone say ‘you just had a Final Destination moment’ and it will make me smile. The whole thing just took on a life of its own.”  

Nightmarish Origins  

A screenwriter and director, Reddick recalls how his neighbors in rural Jackson, Kentucky, would laugh when his six-year-old self would tell them about his plans to work in the movie business.   

An avid writer and reader of Greek and Roman mythology, he recalls spending his formative years watching horror movies with his friends. His mother was only too happy to indulge his burgeoning interest too, knowing it kept him out of trouble elsewhere.  

Reddick’s life began to change after he saw A Nightmare on Elm Street.   

“That film cemented my love of horror. I was this 14-year-old hillbilly from Kentucky but I decided I was going to write a prequel. I went home, banged it out on my typewriter and sent it to Bob Shaye.”  

The legendary head of New Line Cinema initially dismissed Reddick’s draft out of hand, returning it with a note explaining the studio did not “accept unsolicited material.”  

Undaunted, Reddick sent the script back with a note telling him “Look mister, I spent three dollars on your movie and I think you could take five minutes on my story.”  

Shaye was impressed and struck up a bond with the youngster that saw him sending everything from scripts to posters to Reddick during his teenage years.  

When Reddick moved to New York to study acting, age 19, he was offered an internship with New Line, which would become a full-time role despite acting being his “main passion.”  

“Diversity in casting was not a thing at that time,” he recalls.  

“My agent was like ‘I don’t know what to do with you as an actor. We can’t put you up for gangsters or pimps and you don’t rap and you don’t play basketball.”  

“So  I figured, screw it, I will just write stuff and put myself in it.”  

Reddick was present at New Line during their company’s early 90s creative heyday and credits the experience with helping him get Final Destination off the ground.  

“I learned a lot about how to get a movie made. I knew that to make a movie that connected with an audience you had to tap into something that was universal. Death is the ultimate fear.”  

As luck would have it, the idea actually came to Reddick while on a flight back to Kentucky.  

“I read about a woman who was on vacation and her mother told her not to take the flight she was planning to take home as she had a bad feeling about it. The woman changed it and the plane she was supposed to be on crashed.”  

At that point however the idea wasn’t Final Destination. It wasn’t a film either. It was an episode of The X Files.  

The Truth Is Out There  

“I was trying to get a TV agent at the time and they recommended I write a spec script for something already on the air. I was a huge fan of The X Files and thought about a scene where somebody has a premonition and gets off the plane and then it crashes and used that as the plot.”  

“It was going to be Scully’s brother Charles who had the premonition. He gets off the plane with a few other people but they start dying and Charles blacks out every time there is a murder so people suspect he is doing it.   

Read more

TV

I Still Want to Believe: Revisiting The X-Files Pilot

By Chris Longo

“The twist at the end was that the sheriff who had been investigating alongside Mulder and Scully the whole time had actually been shot and flatlined at the same time as the plane crash.  Death brought him back to kill off all the survivors, including Charles.”  

It would have made for a great episode except it was never submitted to The X Files. Reddick showed his spec script to some friends at New Line who were so impressed, they told him to develop it into a treatment for a feature, which was eventually purchased by the studio.  

Producers Craig Perry and Warren Zide were brought onboard to develop the story and set about tweaking his idea.  

“Originally the cast of survivors were adults because I wanted to explore more adult themes but Scream had come out and teenagers were hot again so New Line got me to change it”  

In a twist of fate, two established writers from The X Files, James Wong and Glen Morgan, were brought onboard to rejig Reddick’s script.   

“My version was definitely darker and more like A Nightmare on Elm Street,” he says.  

“In my script, death would torment the kids about some kind of past sin they felt guilty about. They would then die in these accidents that ended up looking like suicides.”  

For example, Todd’s death saw him chased into the family garage by an unseen specter where he accidentally ended up rigged in a noose triggered when his dad opens the automatic garage door.   

Death is all around us  

Ultimately that death scene and several others were ultimately scrapped in favour of what would prove to be the franchise’s calling card.  

Reddick credits Wong and Morgan with coming up with the idea of having the film’s key death scenes kicked off by a Rube Goldberg machine-like chain-reaction that would see everyday things colliding to create a lethal scenario. It was nothing short of a masterstroke.   

“It created this notion that death is all around us,” Reddick says.  

“Death would use everyday things around us. It made it more universal and allowed us to set the deaths in places where people go all the time. The payoff would be fun but it was the build-up that had you on the edge of your seat.”  

There was one major sticking point for the studio though: the presence of death, or rather the lack of.  

“I fought really hard to make sure we never showed death because for me, if you didn’t show it, it could be something someone, no matter their belief system, could project onto our villain. That was a tough sell for the studio. They would be like ‘this doesn’t make any sense, you can’t see it and you can’t fight it’ but that’s the point, it’s death.”  

“Luckily both James Wong and Glen Morgan were very insistent we never show it and tie it in to a specific belief system.”  

Reddick credits the move with helping Final Destination become “an international phenomenon”.  

“It struck a chord with people around the world. It broke out beyond the horror audience.”  

Casting dreams   

When it came to casting, Reddick had a clear idea of who he wanted in the lead roles, even if the studio’s opinion differed drastically.  

“I had a wish list with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst as my two leads but New Line was like ‘well…’”  

He might not have got his first pick but Final Destination boasted an impressive cast of up-and-comers who had already made waves among teen audiences.   

Devon Sawa had starred in Idle Hands, while Ali Larter was known for Varsity Blues and Kerr Smith was a regular on Dawson’s Creek. There was even room for Seann William Scott, fresh from his breakout turn in American Pie who was drafted in on the recommendation of producer Craig Perry, who told Reddick “you’ve got to get this kid, he’s going to be huge.”  

Even so, Reddick was left a little unhappy.  

“One of the conversations we had early on was like ‘Just remember this is set in New York, which is one of the most diverse cities in the world so let’s make sure we have some diversity in the cast’ and they were like ‘oh we will’ and then there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t white in it.”  

New Line chief Bob Shaye did find a way to make amends on some level at least, casting Candyman horror icon Tony Todd in a cameo role as a mysteriously foreboding mortician.  

“He called me up and said they had got Tony Todd and I flipped out. He is an icon. Such a talented, serious actor.”  

As well as co-write the film, Wong took on directorial duties while each of the film’s death sequences would require careful planning, his first aim was to have the film start with a bang by creating as terrifyingly realistic a plane crash as possible.  

“We want to do for planes and air travel what Jaws did for sharks and swimming,” he declared in one interview.  

Yet the film would later garner criticism for its eerie similarities to the explosion and crash of TWA Flight 800 off East Moriches, Long Island, New York in 1996 where 16 students and five adults died.  

“There was some criticism that the movie was written to exploit this real-life crash,” Reddick recalls.  

“I even realised later they used footage from one real-life crash which I wasn’t particularly happy about.”  

Indeed, much of the news footage shown in the film actually came from the 1996 crash.  

That didn’t stop the film becoming a major hit and spawning a sequel within three years.   

Final Destination meets Game of Thrones  

Reddick returned to write the treatment for Final Destination 2, determined to move the franchise away from its teen Scream origins.   

“We had tapped into that zeitgeist and didn’t have to do that again. I wanted to expand the universe and subvert it, so I had it open by following a bunch of teens who are then killed off.”  

Once again, divine intervention led to divine inspiration for the opening set piece.  

“Originally, I was going to have it open with some kids going to spring break and they stop off at this hotel and there is a fire but the producers were not sure. Writers always say you should go out and live life – life informs you and a lot of inspiration comes out when I go out for a walk.  

“I was driving back to Kentucky to see my family and I got stuck behind a log truck and the idea just came to me. I pulled off the highway and called Craig and was flipping out with this idea for a log truck on a freeway.”  

The resulting freeway pile-up that leads to multiple deaths is one Reddick ranks as his “favourite scene in the entire franchise.”  

“The second film is my favourite. I wanted to create a sequel that didn’t feel like a remake of the first. It went in a more fun direction – but it’s still scary.”  

That first sequel also represented the last of which Reddick was formally involved in, though he remained very much in the loop as the Godfather of the franchise, revealing that producers had been “looking at scripts before Covid hit.” 

He also revealed that, at one point, things looked to be heading in an altogether different and thoroughly fascinating direction.  

“There was talk about setting a Final Destination back in Medieval times. Like Game of Thrones in Final Destination. Craig Perry worked with a writer and they talked about the idea and put a teaser trailer together [which has leaked online].   

“I would go and see that movie in a heartbeat but the studio said that the reason Final Destination was so popular was that element of deaths in normal, everyday situations.”  

Future Destinations  

Reddick hasn’t given up on a return to the franchise though, hinting at a “unique” idea he has for a new film that is simply too good to reveal yet.   

In the meantime, he has been busy writing and directing Don’t Look Back, a film that shares some surface similarities with Final Destination and is painfully relevant to society today.  

“It’s a mystery thriller about a group of people who witness someone getting fatally assaulted in a park and don’t help the person and somebody films them and puts it online. The public turns on the witnesses and someone or something is coming after them.”  

Eager to make more horror films and celebrate diversity in his work, Reddick remains immensely proud of Final Destination and the impact it has had on audiences.  

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“It’s cool. To have one movie that is going to be talked about after you die is a life goal. If that’s what I leave behind as a legacy that’s enough – but I still want more.” 

Don’t Look Back is available on DVD & Digital from 14th June

The post How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3oUb1UD

[staywritten]

To Be Expected│Bang Chan

To Be Expected│Bang Chan

Synopsis: You sent your boyfriend to buy a pregnancy test, what could you possibly expect?

Genre: One shot, fluff, expecting parents

Word Count: 2412

Masterlist. AO3

This scenario also has absolutely nothing to do with my Dad!Chan series, this was just a one off idea and Chan’s my ult so I wrote about him again.

“Babe, which one am I supposed to buy?” Chris grumbled into his phone in English, taking salvation in hoping that the old man working couldn’t understand him. There was nothing more embarrassing than standing in a convenient store in the middle of the night looking at the various pregnancy test.

“I don’t fucking know Chris” you groaned pacing back and forth in your living room. “I haven’t done this before-just get all of them.”

“All? There’s like thirty different brands. Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes, Chris. Yes I have because SOMEBODY may have gotten me pregnant.”

“Don’t blame me for all of this, we’re a team. You’re equally responsible.” He sighed looking at the shelves “…Hmmm this should be fine right?” He shrugged, grabbing the more inexpensive of the brands. There was no way in hell he was going to leave this convenient store with only a pregnancy test. He grabbed chips, cookies, and drinks. Anything that’ll prolong the clerk from getting to the pregnancy test. “Babe, you want anythin?”

“Yes, I want to not be pregnant”

“Anything I can get you at the store?” he chuckled.

“Hmm maybe a bottle of soju?”

“How ‘bout somethin not harmful to the possible baby?”

“Good point... ice cream?”

“Deal” he smiled, tossing the ice cream on top and walking over to the counter. Fidgeting and clearing his throat as the clerk took out each and every item scanning and bagging them at arctic speeds. Luckily for him the old man wasn’t too talkative, but he did notice how he paused and side eyed him when he got to the pregnancy test. It was the same judgemental look he expected any grandfather to give him.

There was something about a pregnancy test.

The directions were so simple to follow. There really wasn’t any room for error, and yet you still had to read them over and over and over just to be sure you did it right. You even had Chris read over it a few times.

You set your alarm and then the anxiety set in. This was going to be the longest five minutes of your life.

How did you even wind up in this mess? You were always so careful. Very careful. You’d been on birth control for years it was like second nature to you. But one tiny slip up. One slight lapse in judgment. One bottle of soju too many and all your indiscretion was tossed out the window.

Laying on the bed with Chris you sighed. His king Charles spaniel Berry, tucked by the foot of the bed. It’s like your anxiousness was contagious. This was the calmest she’d ever been, it was like she was trying to ease your nerves. “…What if it’s positive..?” you fiddled with your nightshirt, your nerves restless. “What do we do?”

He smoothed down your hair in an attempt to calm you. “Then we’re gonna be parents.” he shrugged and laughed.

“…Can we afford to be?” you never wanted to be on a tight budget with a baby. You didn’t want to be in a position where you had to decide if you could afford to take care of another human.

“I mean we both have stable jobs. If anything we might have to dip into our savings to get by for a few months but we’re gonna be ok.” he shrugged “If we get desperate you know my parents will help out”

“Where are we gonna put a baby Chris…? There’s no room.” you released a deep sigh. You two had a nice little place. A one bedroom condo, with an office, that he’d turn into a studio. You never needed the extra room before but it became very apparent to you that children needed a nursery, maybe a playroom? Somewhere to explore and live, a place to grow, somewhere safe. 

A home.

“We’ll just get a bigger place” he gave you a warm dimpled smile. “We can get a house, with a playroom, and a little nursery for him, and a lawn.” he grinned. “I miss having a big back yard, running around in the back with my Dad, playing with my siblings...We can share all of that with him” he placed his hand on your stomach.

“Everything’s so simple to you isn’t it?”

“‘Course it is” he pressed a kiss to your hair line, brushing his nose down yours. “I love you, why wouldn’t it be simple?”

Then it dawned on you. 

This was a conversation you two never had. It just never came up, you knew he was good with kids and he always seemed like the kind of person that would want a big family, but you just never asked. Personally you wanted a family, maybe two kids but Chris was your partner, if he told you he didn’t want kids you weren’t sure what you would do. You loved him, but that was the one thing that could probably break your relationship, so you just avoided it. 

It was selfish, but you were scared. 

Before you knew it four years had passed. You two had a comfortable relationship, a cozy little apartment and dreams of the future. But was this something he wanted? “Chris...Do you want to be a parent?” you looked over to him. “No pressure but…? Would you want to?”

“You ask me this now?” he laughed ruffling your hair. “Of course I do. It’s a little sooner than expected but I always wanted a kid. And I mean we've been together for so long my Mum is pretty much just expecting it by this point.” he chuckled. “A little bub crawling around, I could even bring ‘em to work with me.”

“Really?” you sat up staring at him, a little dumbfounded. You partially expected him to say yes, you just weren’t expecting that much enthusiasm. “You thought about that?”

“Sure, little ankle biter at my shows. I can stay home with ‘em when you’re at work or I could bring him to my job. I’ll teach him all about producing and music. Whatever the Tike wants to know.” he chuckled “And it’s not like we have a shortage of Baby sitters, the guys could help out too”

He was always so passionate, and you loved that he was eager to pass that on. He was going to make such a great father. You turned on your side facing him, a smile on your face. “So you’ve already decided it’s a boy?” you brushed a hair out of his face.

He placed his hand on your stomach playfully. “Oh, a father knows. And that there is a boy.”

You laughed leaning your head on his arm and playfully hitting his nose. “I think you’re just afraid of a daughter.”

He leaned into you brushing his nose against yours, and a dazzling smile on his lips, his cheek dimpling. “Terrified.”

Pecking his lips, you grinned. “She’d have you so whipped.”

“Absolutely. Without a doubt. If she’s anything like you, the whole world will be hers.” he caressed your cheek lovingly. “She could just stare up at me with her beautiful doe eyes and I’d be a goner.” He brushed your hair behind your ear and smirked “Can’t let girls outnumber me between you and Berry I’m already weak, so I’m gonna hope for my little man.” seeing you laugh he couldn’t help but smile. “And she’d never be allowed to date so let’s hope for a boy”

He knew this was terrifying for you. You were almost shaking when you set down the pregnancy test. He needed to ease your mind. He had his own fears. Less so about financials and more so on if he would just be a good dad. Was he good enough? Was he gonna figure it out? Was he going to be the man you needed him to be? 

He wanted to be loving, he wanted to be their friend. But he needed to be stern. He wanted to raise them right. But he somehow knew he could if it was with you. “What about you Love? Girl or boy?”

You touched your stomach, mulling it over. “Hmmm… no preference. I just want them healthy.” Shrugging you looked at him. “Honestly, I would like one of each at some point. You ok with that?” you stroked his hand softly.

“Of course I am. We can have an army if you’d like”

“Woah, calm yourself. Let’s just take this one step at a time.” you giggled letting him pull you into his chest.

Suddenly being a mother was a lot less terrifying. You could picture it all so well now. You two could move into a new place after your lease was up. Paint the nursery, talk about baby names, pick out clothes. And you just knew your kid was going to be so loved. Between you two and your family, friends, and all of his members, they were going to have the best support system.

Hearing the alarm Chris jumped up. “You ready?”

“I-I…” shaking your head you covered your eyes. “I can’t look. You do it” That very anxiety that Chris worked so hard to disperse came rearing its ugly head.

He walked over to the counter in the bathroom and turned off the alarm on his phone. Walking out with the pregnancy test in hand he took a deep breath. “Ready…?”

“No. Yes. No” you groaned hugging the pillow to your body. “Yes-Ugh-Just tell me” your heart was racing a mile a minute. “Wait no” you huffed hugging your pillow to your body tighter. “I’m scared”

“Baby…It’s negative.” he set down the test on the dresser. He could pinpoint the exact moment your heart broke. “I…Babe…I’m sorry I-”

“….what?” you dropped the pillow, to look at him. Berry instantly going over to you and nuzzling you with her nose. “No…” your eyes glazed over as you shook your head. “No?”

His shoulders slumped as he walked over to you. He placed his hand on top of Berry, rubbing her head. “It’s…negative.”

“Oh that’s…that’s good.” you swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. “What a relief…r-right?” your voice breaking at every word. “Everything’s fine. Back to normal.” you forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Babe?” he crawled on to the bed. “You ok?”

“No, I’m fine.” you sniffled. “I’m fine. I’m-” but the moment he pulled you into his arms the dam broke and you just lost it. “Why…why does it hurt…?” you gripped his shirt. “I didn’t even lose anything…right? So why does it hurt so much….?” you mumbled into his broad chest, your little hands clenching at his shirt. “I...Why am I crying… This is so stupid…” you sobbed.

“You know I love you right..? I love you with all my heart…We’ll get through this…” he rubbed your shoulders lovingly. “Baby it’ll be ok”

“Chris…I…I think I really…really wanted this baby…” you rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him. “I loved them already and they never existed and I…”

“I’m so sorry…” he felt helpless, all he could do was hold you. He had to be strong for you, you needed him.

It wasn’t as if you two couldn’t just get pregnant on purpose. This was supposed to be a good thing, wasn’t it? Now you two could plan your future better, right? Wait until your married, even more financially stable and plan for a child. And yet you couldn’t help but feel at a loss. This beautiful picture of your family was slipping away from you. And it broke you.

“…I just…need a minute…” you wiped your tears, moving out of bed, and walking toward the bathroom. On your way into it, you stopped at the dresser, looking down at the heartbreaking test. “…Chris…There’s two lines…”

“Yeah…”

“Two lines mean pregnant” you whispered.

“No, it’s not. One line is pregnant.” he dug through the garbage to get out the packaging. Reading over it his eyes widened. “Wait…no it’s not…are you…?” he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Are we- Could it have changed?”

“Maybe? It’s been a few minutes. I have to take another test now.” you looked back at him a frantically. “Should I?” 

He nodded “I think we should” he grabbed his jacket “I’m gonna go buy a new one”

“I’ll go with you” you threw on a pair of sweatpants and followed him out. 

After another run to the convenient store, another judgmental look from the old man working, and opting for a more expensive brand you found yourself in that same anxious position.

Just waiting.

Both of you refused to leave the bathroom, wanting to see the results the moment it happened. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Baby you gotta calm down” he laughed nervously, he could practically feel your pulse. 

“I can’t~” you whined “I’m trying but like I’m anxious, what if it’s negative again?”

“If it’s negative then we both start planning for a kid ‘cuz it became real clear that this is something we both want” he pulled you closer, kissing your hand. “You want this and I want this, so even if you aren’t pregnant in this very second, we’ll still have a family”

And after three minutes you checked the test with him. 

You stared down at the test, it was spelled out and yet you still had to re-read it a few times just to confirm. “Pregnant…” you looked over to him, still blinking in disbelief at the words before you. “That…that says pregnant right?” your eyes filled with tears showing him the test.

“It says pregnant.” he grinned, hugging you tightly. “We’re gonna be parents!”

“We’re gonna be parents!!!” you cried jumping up with him.

“I’m gonna be a Dad- you’re gonna be a Mum.”

“We’re gonna have a baby”

“God, I love you so much!!” he pulled you into a kiss, hugging you tight.

“I love you too Chris…we’re…we’re gonna have a family!” you cupped his face. Berry barked circling you two, happily.

End.

Hey Friends! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ I hope you guys liked that! I realised that I never had a simple one shot for Chan and needed to change that. 

Fun fact I actually wrote the scenario a few years back for a different person, so I changed it a bit for Chan. It was nice breathing some new life into it.

Tags: @skzsprinkles @tophuphu @hugs4chan @channieboyo

[inosuketingz]

the sheets are stained with blood [p.4]

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE [ PART FOUR ] Victor Zsasz x fem!Reader Warning: language, violence, blood and BOP spoilers Word Count: 1687 Tag: @itsknife2meetu @yourlocalghoul​ @im-just-one-of-the-avengers​ @fillechatoyante​ A/N: im sososoosossososos sorry this took so damn long I promise u guys my reasoning wasn’t too bad, i just got busy with school and then right after became really unmotivated w/ the blm movement. as a black woman, it has always affected me a lot and i really couldn’t stop stressing over it for weeks. of course im still stressed over the protests and stuff, but i did want to get back to writing. if it makes you guys feel any better, you guys are getting your guts rearranged in the next part.

“Holy shit!” You yell the minute the quarrel crashes into he window. It lands only inches away from your face, too short to reach it. And whoever shot the arrow knows that. They aren’t trying to kill you. They only want your attention.

 “Since when did Hyunwoo have shooters?” You ask. For the most part, you know Hyunwoo was a very independent person when it came to the shady business he dabbled in. He was never the type to have any guard dogs.

 Victor shakes his head, forcing his car door open at a frantic speed. “They’re not with him.” 

 You narrow your eyes, searching for anything in the distance. There’s a flash of purple within the trees next to Hyunwoo’s house and you look over to Zsasz. He’s standing in the open, a grim look on his face.

 “Zsasz, get back in the fucking car before you get shot in the forehead!” You bark your order. 

 “Don’t tell me what to do,” he replies and you sigh in annoyance, slamming your head back into your seat’s headrest. Dealing with him was like dealing with a four year old. You reach into your pocket for the Blood Pendant. If he won’t do what you say voluntarily, you’ll just have to force him. But, when you dig through the fabric, you realize it’s gone.

 You glance toward him and see the silver chain hanging out of the back pocket of his cargo pants. That sneaky asshole.  You didn’t even notice when he managed to snag it off you.

 “Victor Zsasz!” A feminine voice calls out. It echoes around you and you have no clue where to look. You slip out of the car, mentally readying yourself for any of the spells you can conjure. 

 Zsasz looks even angrier now, his face is painted red with fury. 

“Get back in the car!” You try to advise him. You have no clue why you’re so concerned with his safety.

 “No, I want to kill these bitches by myself.” He pulls his token knife from his pocket, the one you’ve seen referenced all over the news with his murders.

 As he toys with the sharp edge of the blade, you sigh. “No offense, but I don’t think your tiny ass knife stands a chance against a bitch with a crossbow.”

 Behind you two, there is a soft crunch of leaves as someone takes a step closer. Like partners in a waltz, you and Victor whirl around. His grip on the knife’s handle grows tighter and you can feel your power tingling at your fingertips.

 “Hi, Zsasz.” The two of you face a young black woman, her blonde hair styled in loose locs. You can’t help but notice how pretty she is, despite the cocky grin on her face indicating she wouldn’t hesitate knocking the both of you out cold. “Since when did you start working with the Night Hex?”

 “We’re not working together,” You shoot back. “Which is why I think it’s in our best interest that I leave, and let you two hash it out.” You begin to take a step back, ready to bolt out of sigh, when you feel a cold metal against your neck. It’s something sharp, and you hiss as it slightly stabs into your skin.

 “Yeah I don’t think so,” A feminine voice behind you says. You look over your shoulder and see her standing there with a crossbow in her hand. She nudges the crossbow closer to your face and you flinch back. “Consider yourself guilty by association.”

 Another woman approaches you and you roll your eyes. “God, there’s more of you?” 

 “Yes. And it looks like you guys are outnumbered.”   She mocks you, her inner-city accent evident.

 Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck. These are those Birds of Prey chicks aren’t they? And you remember hearing somebody say they had something to do with Roman Sionis’s death. That’s why Victor looks so pissed. 

 This isn’t fair. You came to Gotham to relax, and stir away from any of those fuckers in spandex that swear they’re vigilanties. But of course the second you decide to make some hard-earned money, you suddenly have these little birds on your ass. 

 The one with the crossbow sidewalks to stand in front of the pair of you and turns slightly to aim the weapon at Zsasz. “You’re supposed to be dead,” she tells him flatly. The other two birds step back, seemingly to let her at him. Your mind flashes back to the ugly scar on Victor’s neck. It’s shaped perfectly for a crossbow. Whatever Victor had with these women, it seems to be about more than just his dead boyfriend. “You’re supposed to be dead, like the rest of those sons of bitches,” she insists. Her voice cracks as she says this, and her eyes grow wet.

 “And yet, I’m not.” Zsasz practically growls. The words came from deep within his chest. His rough hands twirl the knife between his fingers, anticipating what is to come.

 The air is thick with tension, and you are standing in the midst of it all. Times like this are when you especially become grateful for your witchcraft. 

 A beat passes before Zsasz lashes. He raises the knife, aiming for her face. It’s almost like time slows down for you as you notice the woman’s finger reach for the trigger. You rush to latch onto Victor’s empty hand and close your eyes, picturing your small apartment in as vivid detail as possible. You whisper in Hebrew a teleportation spell you learned in Israel that translates to “Bring me there.” 

 It hardly ever works. Time after time you’ve tried to disappear mid-fight with Wonder Woman, only for you to remain where you are and get her fist in your face. The fact that you’re trying to do it with two people is insane, and you would’ve called yourself an idiot for even considering it any other time. However, for some odd reason, you can’t fathom this encounter ending with a bow down Victor’s throat.

 You’re not sure if you managed it or not until you hear Victor mutter “What the fuck?” and you hear the hum from your studio’s A/C kicking on. You let out an audible sigh of relief and let go of Zsasz’s hand. Your moment of relaxation is cut short when he shoves his hard hands against your shoulders, causing you to stumble back. Out of instinct, you step forward and swing your fist at him, but he ducks back.

 “What the fuck did you do!?” He yells so loud that you’re sure the entire floor hears him. “I was going to fucking kill her! Are you stupid?” 

 It takes you a minute to process his words. You just saved his life and he has the nerve to be mad at you? “Are you stupid?” You echo, your voice even louder than his. “She was holding a fucking crossbow, dumbass! She would have killed you long before you could even lay a hand on her! You should be thanking me, you piece of shit!” 

 He brings his knife to your neck and you clench your teeth, expecting him to bark some new insults your way. Instead, he swallows down and digs his hand into your pocket to take out the keys. “I’m taking these to Hernando myself. Do whatever the fuck you want.” And with that, he turns to the door to leave.

 But you’re not going to let this argument go down so easily. With his back now turned to you, you push him, and he stumbles a bit. “And when you’re done with that, leave me the fuck alone! Stay as far away from me as possible, and deal with the bounty the Birds of Prey have on you by yourself!”

 He stares at you from over his shoulder as you wait for an answer. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you hype yourself up for a fight with him, but Zsasz already looks like he’s calmed down. “Go drink some water, you look like you’re gonna pop a vein.” And then he turns and leaves. 

 Your face twists as your door slams shuts, the million words you wanted to throw at him still tingling at your tongue.

~~~

 Hot water hits your back and you yawn. It took you an hour to finally calm down, but when you did you ordered some pizza and watched TV for the rest of the day. You aren’t too sure how long Hernando wants you to work on this expedition with him, but when it’s all over you’ve decided you're ditching Gotham. 

 The first few months here have been peaceful, sure, but too many dangerous people know that you’re here. Your little vacation spot has been ruined. So, you’ll probably head somewhere else, like Orlando or Los Angeles. Maybe you’d move to a small town without any crime-fighting heroes, and live out your Hallmark-movie romantic fantasy after all.  

 Whichever it’ll be, you’re sure it’s not anywhere near this city. Or Boston, either. 

 You scrub your body with a soapy loofah to make sure all the dirt is off your body. After a few more minutes you finally turn the water off and pull a towel over your body. Something about Victor Zsasz drains the energy out of you. After all your encounters with him, you remember always feeling beyond tired by the end of it. 

 Whatever it is, it’ll be gone once you leave Gotham.

 You lotion yourself and apply your facial creams, pulling on your panties and an oversized shirt you sleep in in the process, all before slipping into your bedroom. 

 Your room is oddly quiet, the hum of the TV you normally keep on muted and your fan turned off. You flip on the light switch and freeze at the sight before you.

 Victor Zsasz waits for you at the end of your bed. The sheets are stained with blood and you can practically smell the reek of death coming from him. He looks at you with those fake innocent eyes as he says a soft, “Hey.”

[hoodieimp]

Hi @tanteichan1412! I’m your Secret Satan!

This is a tad bit late but only because I ended up going ABSOLUTELY HAM on the prompt lmao

Hope you enjoy!

///

Buddy was in trouble. 

It was supposed to be just another supply run. Nothing too exciting. Leave the safehouse, venture down into the unknown, grab whatever he could carry, and head back without getting caught. 

Except this time, he couldn't get back. Which was impossible--no matter how mazelike and confusing these lower floors got, there was always the elevator room at the center of everything, like an anchor. 

But now, somehow, the elevator had vanished.

Buddy had simply tried retracing his steps at first, thinking he'd gotten turned around. That lasted all of five minutes before he realized he'd walked past the same Miracle Station three times in a row. 

Was the studio alive somehow?

He imagined the rooms shuffling around like a deck of cards, rearranging themselves to trap him, boxing him into a corner while that demon slowly closed in, inky dark shadows sweeping round to the sound of a booming heartbeat--

Buddy jolted back to himself. Dimly, he realized his own heart was thudding away in his ears. 

Focus, Buddy. Calm down.

Five senses. That would help. 

Touch: The weight of the headlamp bobbing atop his head. A stack of objects in his arms, his pitiful attempt at “supplies”: moldering books, a couple of bones (best not to think too hard about where those came from, or how tasty he found them), sloshing inkwells (handled with extreme care), and an old radio. 

Sound: Floorboards creaking. The groans of the building as it settled. Ink gurgling in the pipes overhead. No demon heartbeat or hissing breathing, thankfully. 

Smell: Ink, omnipresent and chemical. Nothing new there. 

Sight: The corridor twisting off into the darkness ahead. Peeling posters on the walls. Everything colored in the same dull shades of sepia as the rest of this bizarre underworld. Like something out of a comic strip, not a real building. 

Taste: Nothing. Even the awful salty aftertaste of bacon soup had long since faded from the back of his throat. 

At the thought of soup, his stomach growled, low and plaintive. Right, that was another problem. He hadn't come across a vending machine in a while. Lately, whenever he tried to go for too long without eating, the half-aware fragment of Boris that shared his head would start clamouring and making it hard for him to think straight. 

Even now, Buddy could feel the alien prickling in the back of his mind, demanding he start sniffing out his next snack. He mentally pushed it away, but he had the feeling Boris wouldn't stay quiet for long. 

He couldn't afford to lose himself right now. Not until he found the way back…

“Hello…?”

Buddy's ears shot up.

He had to be imagining things, right? That was probably just an echo, or some trick of the pipes. There was no way he’d just heard--

"Is someone there? Hello?”

He definitely wasn't imagining it. That was a voice, a girl's voice, coming from somewhere nearby.

Could it be…?

Without even thinking, Buddy found himself sprinting down the corridor in his usual galumphing run, his appetite all but forgotten, items jingling and clanking about in his arms as he swayed comically in an effort to keep his balance. The headlamp bounced off his head and clattered away unheeded.     

He skidded around the corner on one foot--and there she was, standing in a little alcove with her back to him. He barely even slowed down as he bounded towards her, wishing, hoping with the whole of his heart, crying out over and over: Dot, Dot, it's me, it's Buddy, I found you, I--!!

She spun around.

He skidded to a halt as realization hit him like a load of bricks. 

That wasn't Dot. 

Even with the ink steadily washing away his old life, Buddy could still murkily recall Dot, her blonde hair and flashing glasses. The girl before him had hair as dark as...well, ink, falling in elaborate curls around her face, and a notable lack of glasses. 

And her eyes…

They glowed, a flat pupil-less gold like a pair of lamps. He'd seen eyes like that before--on the poor lost souls that wandered the halls, ink-drenched and wailing. 

Not on a human being. 

Was she even human...? 

He took a step towards this stranger to peer closer, momentarily forgetting how odd and intimidating he must look, as a gangly cartoon wolf with an armful of bones. 

"Stay back!" She brandished something--a bizarre-looking tangle of pipes with a wire antenna sticking out of it, sizzling and throwing off sparks like a cattle prod. It was undoubtedly some sort of weapon. 

Buddy immediately backed off, ears wilting, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. The girl lowered the pipe-thing slowly, not taking her eyes off of him. 

"You scared me," she said quietly. Now that Buddy could hear her clearly, she didn’t sound a thing like Dot at all. Lower, more melodious. "Running all Hell-for-leather out of nowhere like that...I thought you might be, I dunno, the Demon coming after me or something.” 

So she'd run into Bendy, too. 

"You can understand me, right?” she said suddenly, peering right back at Buddy. “I’m not just talking to myself like a crazy person?”

Buddy nodded vigorously and tapped the side of his head for good measure.

“What about you? Can you talk at all?"

Buddy, foolishly, started to respond out loud, before he caught himself. He shook his head. 

Buddy held up an insistent finger. Wait, wait, let me show you. 

"Right...I should’ve figured, you didn’t exactly talk much in the cartoons, either.” 

Normally he kept a pen and paper on him, but all the pens were currently stashed back at the safehouse--not that he was heading back there anything soon. There were the books he’d collected--but no, he wanted to read those, not spoil them with scribbling...    

That left one other option. It was one the other denizens of the studio resorted to all the time, and not the neatest, but in a pinch... 

Buddy dashed over to the nearest stretch of blank wall, inkwell in hand. Dipping his finger into the stuff (he couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through him), he began daubing big, blocky letters, painstakingly spelling out a sentence:

My name is Buddy.

"Nice to meet you, Buddy." The girl smiled for the first time, so bright and human that it made Buddy's chest ache. "I'm Audrey. Er...forgive me if I don’t shake your hand." 

Buddy was confused for a second--until he looked down at her hands. Her entire left arm was coated in ink--no, was made of ink, from shoulder to fingertip. Veins of golden light spread from her fingers to connect in a brilliant spiral shape. 

Audrey saw him looking and flashed a wry grin. 

“Freaky, isn’t it?” She held up her strange swirled hand and wiggled the glowing digits. "I've found that cartoons like you tend to, er...vaporize when I touch them with this. It’s...not pretty, to say the least." 

Buddy grimaced. No idea what she meant by that, but it certainly didn’t sound pretty. 

He turned back to the wall and added a new line underneath the first.

Thought you were someone I knew. Been looking for her.

"Guess that makes two of us! I'm looking for somebody, too."

He cocked his head as if to say, Go on? 

"I don't know if you even know who he is, but...I was invited here by a man named Joey Drew."

Buddy recoiled at the name as though it were a physical blow. A whole slew of emotions--recognition, disgust, familiarity, fear--swirled through him, kicking up bits of memories from the depths of his brain.

Joey Drew, the visionary, the dreamer, the liar, the man who'd offered Buddy the world only to rip it all away from him in an instant, who’d meant to keep him as some sort of mindless living attraction--

He shook his head frantically, trying to clear it. 

"Whoa, whoa, easy there--!" Audrey automatically reached out to comfort him, but thought better of it and held back. 

"So you do know Joey. And you’re...scared of him?”

Now that was an understatement. Buddy could hardly even begin to describe how he felt about Mister Drew. It would take an entire hallway’s worth of wall-writing. 

Best to give it to her short and sweet.

And so he dunked his fingers back into the inkwell till they dripped, swiveled back to the wall (Audrey leapt back to avoid the trailing arc of inkblots) and started writing frantically, pressing so hard on the wallpaper that it tore slightly in places. 

He stepped back to reveal the hurried scrawl, much bolder and darker than the first, with the last 'E' trailing off where he'd whipped his hand away: 

He did this to me. 

Audrey’s ink-lined brow furrowed in a mix of concern and confusion. 

"He did...what?" 

Buddy made a whining noise in the back of his throat. Like some sort of vaudeville pantomime act, he gestured broadly and emphatically to himself--down to his oversized paws and raggedy overalls, up to his inhumanly proportioned skull with its big blunt snout. He gripped his floppy ears and tugged on them, hard, as though he could tear them off, peel away Boris’s dopey mug like the head of a costume to reveal his old human face--but of course it only brought dull, scalp-tugging pain. All the while he stared desperately, pleadingly, at Audrey, silently willing her to understand.

And just like that, she did, and her eyes widened in horror. 

"Are you telling me...Did you used to be someone else? Someone...human?" 

Buddy nodded grimly.  

Audrey was speechless. She brought her hand to her mouth, then lowered it, looked from her own warped fingers to the silently trembling figure of Buddy. 

"I...I'm so sorry," she whispered. It was an absurdly small, ineffectual thing to say to something so mind-turningly surreal, but who could blame her? She was talking more to herself than to Buddy now, sounding like she was about to cry. "God...Christ Almighty, Joey, what the fuck have you been doing...?" 

Buddy lowered his gaze to the floor, not sure what to do or say. The two of them stood there for a long while, caught in quiet, existential terror. 

Finally, just when Buddy could barely stand the silence a moment longer, Audrey spoke up again. Her voice was thick. 

“Buddy...listen to me.’

He turned, blinking through tears.

“I’ll be honest with you, I still don’t entirely know what I’m doing here, or what the Hell Joey’s been doing to create…” She waved a hand at the crumbling hallway around them. “All of this. But I do know one thing, and it’s that I’m not going to give up until I get to the bottom of all this. I’m not letting Joey fuck with any more innocent lives.” 

Audrey’s voice darkened with those last few words, and Buddy swore he saw her glowing eyes flare for a split second--but then it was gone.

“What I’m trying to say is...Maybe we can help each other. Work together. We could both find what we’re looking for.” 

She shuffled her weapon to her left hand, and held out the non-inked one towards Buddy. He stared at it, thinking rapidly, trying to parse this sudden turn of events.  

Maybe Audrey could help him. If she’d survived this long on her own, with that strange weapon and even stranger ink limb, surely she wasn’t a pushover. 

As for himself...he did know his way around the studio--current situation notwithstanding. He knew lots of hiding places, at least. How to sneak around where he shouldn’t, keep an eye out for the small things, get out of danger in a pinch…

The more Buddy thought about it, the more he found himself warming to the idea. It would be tougher to look out for someone on top of himself, of that he was sure. Surviving didn’t come easy down here. 

But still...he’d missed having someone by his side. It was comforting. 

Familiar.

And so he took Audrey's hand in his oversized glove and shook it firmly, just once. A handshake that meant business. 

To show he could be trusted. 

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

She’s My Collar pt. 5

So I was gonna try to upload an update for both fics, but I’m still feeling yucky so have this chapter for now which I’m sorry if it’s not great, the next one will be better I promise lol.

Tag List: @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @littlemisscare-all​

“Miss did you hear me?” The officer in front of me grunts.

“I’m sorry could you repeat the question for me?” I ask shyly focusing on him and not Kevin shouting and thrashing as the other cops are shoving him into the police car.

“I asked you if you could give me your recount of the events that took place tonight.”

“Oh right. Well…”

The flames are starting the consume the curtains and spread across the carpet as Tommy and I round the corner from my bedroom. I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab the extinguisher I had luckily purchased when Nikki started lighting himself on fire in their apartment. I toss it to Tommy and he gets everything currently on fire doused with the foamy liquid. 

“What the fuck?” He wonders aloud as he reaches down picking up a broken bottle out of the mess. “River who the fuck would throw a moltov cocktail in your apartment?”

It’s like Loki the God of chaos himself is answering him when my door is kicked in and Kevin sways in full of intoxicated rage. He spots me frozen with fear against the fridge and begins to stomp towards me.

“You fucking good for nothing cunt I should’ve killed you when I had the chance” He screams and lunges towards me but is knocked to the ground by Tommy tackling him.

Tommy’s fist is covered in blood by the time I can get him pulled off Kevin and he spits on him as I get him pulled out of there just in time for the police and fire department to be pulling into the parking lot.

“We’ll be in touch.” The man hands me his card with his info on it before getting in his car and leaving.

Tommy is silent as we walk back to my apartment for me to inspect the damage done. My plants near my window scorched and my carpet destroyed is enough to send me over the edge. I collapse in the fetal position and let myself break down for the first time since the chaos began. I feel Tommy lay on the ground next to me and wrap his arms around me letting me have my moment. 

“Thank you.” I hoarsely let out.

“I told you that you were stuck with us guys for the rest of your life especially me.” He pressed a small kiss to my shoulder and butterflies filled my stomach.

“Let's get off the ground.” I sniffle the both of us sitting back up slowly and eventually clambering back into my bed. 

He pulls me against his body and rests his chin on the top of my head, the soft movement of him breathing lulling me to sleep.

“It’s the goddamn principal of the matter.” Nikki ranted as he paced through my living room while I tried to enjoy my morning coffee.

“So tell Vince you’re pissed.”

“No I can’t let him think he won. He needs to think I never wanted Beth in the first place.” He scoffed.

“Did you want Beth?”

“She gives great blowjobs. That’s why I suggested a threesome in the first place.” He plops into one of my chairs looking up at the ceiling.

“Listen Nikki I’m gonna be brutally honest since we’re friends and you would be with me, this is your fault for opening up your girlfriend to Vince Neil.”

“I hate it when you’re right you know that?”

“You’ll find a new groupie to fuck Nikki you’ll be fine. Now we gotta get to the studio you boys have photos for the album we need to take today.”

The boys had finished recording their first album by the grace of God himself. They spent the entire few days in the studio drunk and pissing off their sketchball manager, but by the end of it they had a full blown album that didn’t take much money to produce. They even got to save money on photos for the album since I was their personal photographer, which aforementioned sketchball was thrilled about. His name was Alan, but I didn’t have a good feeling about him so I rarely referred to him by his name, not to his face.

“My hair isn’t going to show!” Vince pouted in front of the (awful) white background Alan had thrown together for their album pictures.

“It’ll be fine Vinnie we’re gonna get them edited by a professional.” He quipped from beside me.

“Excuse me?” I ask unaware he was having somebody else  edit my photos.

“Well yeah sweetheart you expect me to trust the work of an amature to look good enough without editing? You’re out of your mind.” 

“Listen here you sweaty ass-” I’m cut off by Tommy’s hand covering my mouth blocking the next slew of insults I had prepared.

“Let's take 5 for a cigarette break” He says cheerfully and leads me away still covering my mouth.

“You can stop licking my hand thinking that is gonna make me move it from your mouth you know.” Tommy says after dragging me outside the building we were shooting in. I pull away from him and fix him with a death glare that he just chuckles at lighting up a cigarette.

“I don’t want someone else to fuck with my photos Tommy. They’ll ruin it, I just know it.”

“It’ll be fine Riv. Besides if it’s fucked up then next time Alan can pay you more to do the photos and the editing.”

“Yeah that cheap bastard isn’t about to pay me more for jack shit Tommy.” I roll my eyes and pace back and forth in front of him. “Are you guys sure you want him as your manager? He gives me a weird feeling.”

“I think you’re paranoid babe” Tommy pulled me close and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Now lets get through this photoshoot so we can party it up later alright?”

“As much as I hate The Troubadour sometimes, yes I’m willing to get through the rest of the photoshoot so that we can go ‘party it up’ with the boys there” I tease and lean in close to him.

Tommy’s intoxicating scent of leather, cigarettes, and the men’s body wash I’ve been getting him to use pulls me in and I tuck my face into his neck and place a soft kiss there. He hums as his hand plays softly in my hair and he pulls slightly to tilt my head up. Our lips connect in a soft peck and he pulls away to stroke my cheek with his thumb.

When I walk back in Alan was nowhere to be found, which was perfect for me so that I could get my work done faster. Vince it seems has also finished his little temper tantrum as well. The rest of the shoot goes by without a hitch and we get our final shot for the cover of the album, which was just a close up shot of Vince’s crotch. By the time we get done and piled into my car it’s about time to get ready for the party the boys were throwing for completing the album and releasing it themselves on their own record label.

“Are you Nikki Sixx?” A voice off to the side of Nikki calls and he turns from our conversation with a shit eating grin giving her a single “no”  in response.

“Oh well that’s a shame cause I was going to split this quaalude with him.” She shrugs and goes to move on, but Nikki quickly stops her and confirms he in fact is Nikki Sixx and he was just fucking with her.

I watch her smile and bite her drug in half placing the other half onto Nikki’s tongue and he looks like he just might be falling in love for the first time. I look around and see Vince and Beth wrapped up together and Mick nursing his bottle of vodka, but I can’t find Tommy. I make my way through the crowd up to the bar and I don’t spot the tall brunette anywhere. He could just be outside smoking a cigarette, I tell myself feeling the bits of insecurity start to blossom in my head. 

“Two Jack and Cokes please” I say to the bartender when I finally get his attention. I figure if I go to find Tommy with a drink in hand it makes me look less like a crazy person.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing ordering your own drinks?” The man to my left says and I have to put effort into not rolling my eyes.

“Well nothing on me is broken so I’m more than capable of getting my own drinks” I shoot back trying to walk away, but his hand comes up to block me from going forward.

“I’m just saying if you got a man he should be catering to you. What’s your name goddess?” His sickening grin shows teeth all too white against far too tan of skin. 

“Her name is none of your business.” A deep huff comes from behind me and I turn to see Mick casually leaning against the bar.

“What are you her fucking dad?” The overly bronze man snaps.

“I’m trying to help you, but if you don’t want to keep all your fucking teeth that’s your dumbass decision.” Mick chuckles and tips his head to Tommy making his way towards us already sending hate eyes to the man next to me.

“You should listen to the man.” I shrug. “He fights.” I nod toward Tommy for emphasis.

The man looks like he’s about to argue when I feel Tommy slide his arm across my shoulders.

“This guy bothering you babe?” He asks sipping the drink in my hand never breaking eye contact with the strange guy with a look that said ‘one wrong move and I’ll kill you.

I smile like a cat that just caught a mouse and sip my drink as well.

My back hits the back wall of the closet as Tommy tries to find a secure place to hold my body so he can kiss me and grind into me at the same time.

“Fuck can I get this kind of reaction everytime I stick up for you.” Tommy pants breaking away from our kissing to catch his breath.

He hisses as I grind against him while pulling his hair back to expose his neck to me. I take the opportunity to nip at the skin there and feel the rumbling of another groan pass through him. Tommy begins to unlace his pants and suddenly the realization of how public we are hits me. Right as a worker opens the closet door to be exact.

“Ah I’m so sorry!” I yelp climbing off Tommy and rushing out of the closet and out the back door. Tommy is hot on my tail quickly catching up with the help of his long ass legs.

“Come on.” Tommy begins leading me to my car. “We’re going to your apartment to finish this.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Starrison Week - Day 7 - Free Day

Rating: U

Summary: Olivia has a gift for Ringo.

Tags: One Shot, Angst

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

It had been a couple of years since George's passing, but it never seemed to get any easier for Ringo, any mention of his name or fleeting thought in his mind brought back the pain that never truly wavered. The hardest thing about grieving for Ringo was that he never truly felt he had the privacy to deal with it, they'd always be somebody asking about George: when was the last time he saw him, if they'd been close all these years and if he missed him. That final question was the most insulting, because of course he missed George; he missed him with every fibre of his existence, as much as any person could miss another. Some days were easier than others of course, but there wasn't a day that went by without a thought of George passing into Ringo's mind.

Ringo knew today would already be a little harder, attending an event for something - who could keep track these days? - which Olivia would also be attending. Ringo loved Olivia, she was the best thing to ever happen to George there was no doubt about it; she was kind and intelligent, managing somehow to keep George grounded for so many years. Seeing her would've been a joy, but every time Ringo saw her he couldn't help but thinking about the missing person between them.

They'd always speak to one another at events like these, Ringo especially liked to see how Dhani was getting on, and this occasion was no different. As Ringo approached her, he realised immediately there was something off by the expression of her face: he'd seen it a few times before, but not for years by this point. She approached Ringo with a hug, her charming smile lighting up her face.

"How are you?" She asked in her thick American accent, pulling away from the hug but leaving her hands resting on his shoulders.

Ringo smiled back at her "Alright, and yourself?" There was always an unspoken sadness between them, but both of them recognised its presence.

"Fine, fine." Olivia moved her hands away and began rummaging into her bag "I've got something for you."

"Oh?" Ringo asked, they'd given each other gifts before of course, but never in person.

Olivia pulled out a folded piece of paper, then handed it to Ringo with a smile "I found it inside the piano bench, can you believe it?"

Ringo accepted the paper gently "What is it?"

"It'll make sense when you open it, I'd wait until you're back home, though." Olivia explained, ever sweet.

Ringo eyed her quizzically "If you say so, thanks for whatever it is."

"You can thank me later." She brushed her hand over his arm softly, her eyes looked tearful, then gave it a quick squeeze before heading off into the array of people.

Ringo stood there for a few moments not moving, just holding the piece of paper in his hands. There was nothing more tempting than to open something when someone tells you to wait, but Ringo wanted to respect Olivia's advice; furthermore, if it was anything to do with George, Ringo didn't want to risk becoming an emotional wreck in front of all these people. And so he carried on mingling and drinking while the event carried on as if he didn't have the desperate urge to leave immediately, luckily time didn't pass too slowly.

When Ringo finally got home, he fished the paper out of his pocket almost instantly, but still didn't open it until he'd gotten comfortable in his living room. Now that he was finally able to look at it, part of him didn't want to. What could it even be? Ringo fumbled with the edges of the paper, it was clearly old from the way the sides had crumbled together, which no doubt meant that it was something George had written a long time ago. Ringo let out a heavy sigh, guessing what the contents might be would only make him feel more anxious, so it was best just to take a look. Now unfolded, he could see the paper was scrawled in an always familiar handwriting: George's. Ringo felt a pain already in his chest from seeing the curls of the letters, it was moments like this that made him realise just what little aspects of George he missed. Ringo powered through the initial ache and read the first line, it seemed to be a title of sorts.

Hey Ringo

The pain exponentially grew from this point on. Ringo knew it was silly to read these words as if George was speaking to him now, somewhere beyond this world, but it was difficult not to, especially when it felt so calming.

Hey Ringo now I want you to know That without you my guitar plays far too slow

Ringo felt his face tightening, already a lump in his throat growing as he continued to read. A song written by George would've been enough of a struggle, one written to him was even worse, but a song written to him about their love for one another, their inability to be without one another, all only to be discovered long after George had passed, was near unbearable.

And Ringo let me say this to you I've heard no drummer who can play it quite like you

Ringo found himself reading the words aloud, he wasn't quite sure when he'd started. He only wished he'd be able to hear George sing them, Ringo always thought he had such a beautiful voice. It wasn't the first time George had reassured Ringo on his drumming ability, it was impossible to forget the sight of all the flowers George had filled the studio with when he'd 'quit' the band all those years ago.

Wait a minute Mr G. Stop flattering me My drums sound bare When your guitar's not there

Ringo let out a sad laugh, the kind you make when your brain registers the happiness before the pain. This wasn't a simple case of Ringo merely missing when they played together as The Beatles, the two of them had continued to play for years after that. George had written songs for Ringo across the years, he wondered why this one had never surfaced before.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey Let me hear you playing

When had George written this? There was no date in sight, and considering it'd been stored away in Friar Park it could've been from any time at all. Had George even remembered he'd written it? During their years as The Beatles, George already had a plethora of songs he'd written that were just waiting to be recorded - many of then which never were.

Hey Ringo there's one thing that I've not said I'll play my guitar with you till I drop dead

It was at this point that Ringo realised he'd started crying, a teardrop fell onto the aged paper and left a small mark which began to grow. He quickly dabbed his eyes, no matter how justified his emotions felt in that moment he couldn't let them ruin this now treasured piece. Even though these words were never written with the meaning they now had, Ringo couldn't help viewing them that way. All the little disputes they may have had in their whole lives of knowing one another, seemed to wash away with these words.

Well, G. it's really nice the things you say But when you drop, please fall the other way

Another pained laugh, and more tears. Classic George, always ending with a joke even in the most sincere of situations. Ringo couldn't stop the tears from falling this time, he had to move the paper away to avoid drenching it.

Despite his weeping, Ringo still had a smile on his face, it was far too bittersweet to commit to one emotion. It felt like a new message, despite it clearly being several years old, that George was still able to communicate his love in this way. If anyone would've been able to somehow communicate through the vast and aching separation of death, Ringo thought it would've been George.

He imagined all the different George's of his life writing this down: whether it was the young, rebellious boy from Hamburg, the mopheaded cynic, the wise hippie, the gentle gardener or the mature and loving father he'd watched him become. While it was beyond upsetting to have experienced the loss of George, such a beautiful light in everyone's lives, in that moment Ringo felt blessed to have known him at all; especially to have been so important to him that he felt he'd immortalise their friendship in a song. Even though George never got round to finishing or recording it, Ringo didn't care, he'd cherish these words for the rest of his life.

For certain there is sadness where there is death, but in the memory of those we love there is true happiness and beauty.

[inspirationdivine]

Blank Space || Todd and Lydia

Timing: Current Parties: @itsyaboytodd @inspirationdivine Summary: Oh Anna, if only there was somebody out there who loved you... Warnings: Emotional abuse, domestic abuse, drug manipulation (leanan sidhe kiss)

There were a dozen reasons why Remmy leaving was devastating, but it made one single task easier. Lydia had spent hours dwelling on the bad, not enough considering the delay it had brought into other parts of her life. Now, it was time.  Lydia reapplied her ruby red lipstick, and pulled on her glamour, although Todd would see through it as he had the last few times they met. At the center of her chest, she was starting to feel him. Like a little bud, showing its first leaves, he would grow inside her from each meal she had from here on out, his emotions fogging up her own. Better than Chloe’s, Lydia hoped. Lydia looked at the text she’d sent him. Can you please cancel your plans for today? I need to see you. Like a good little human, he had. She climbed out of the car with a smile. “Todd! Oh gosh, you have no idea how much this means to me! I’ve just had such a difficult week, I’m so glad you’re here!” She wrapped her arms around him as if she meant it, and immediately took his hand in hers. After today, Lydia wasn’t going to let go. 

 Todd smoothed his hands over his shirt, making sure that it looked nice and neat. He wanted to look his best for Lydia-- he alway did! But, like, she’d been the only thing on his mind lately. After their last date, he’d been up all night, his mind just playing the date over and over again, his entire body practically radiating with excited energy. His mind kept going back to the kiss, to that perfect kiss. He’d been mixing for days after, the beats coming so much smoother, the melody of songs clicking together like effortlessly matched puzzle pieces. The bass, the kick, the build up to the awesome, absolute banger of a drop? His latest song, he wanted to show it to her. When he caught sight of Lydia stepping out of the car,  she looked absolutely… amazing. So fucking amazing. How did he get so lucky? “Of course! I’m glad that I could help, I’m sorry that you’ve had a bad week, that sucks.” As she took his hand, he could feel his pulse speed up, stomach flip flopping with nerves but also excitement. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 Oh, this sweet innocent pea. Lydia smiled at his carefully chosen attire. He was completely under, wasn’t he? He could see right through her now, which was always a mildly concerning proposition, but apparently even on second viewing he was completely overwhelmed with her. She quickly raised his hand so she could press a quick kiss to the back of his palm, a seemingly casual show of affection, but really a re-enforcement of his good behaviour. “Can we just go for a walk?” Lydia asked. “I just… really want the company. I want to hear about good things. How are you?”

 Todd couldn’t take his eyes off Lydia as she took his hand, a slight shiver running down his spine as she pressed her lips to his hand. She was well, she wasn’t like other ladies he’d dated, for sure. Not only was there the whole, like, luminous skin, pointy ears, all that stuff, but she was the only one who’d ever really… liked him for who he was and supported his dreams. “We can definitely do that.” He said with an enthusiastic nod, holding out his arm for her, because he’d seen a dude do it in a movie once. It was, like, the polite thing to do for a classy lady, right? “Good things-- I posted a new song on soundcloud and it got a LOT of traction. Like, way more than I expected.” He said with a slightly flustered laugh, “And I think I might have a new gig coming up? I sent a guy my tracks and he’s gonna let me know, but I think I’ve got a shot.”

 Lydia smiled brightly as she tucked her hand in his arm, falling in step beside him as they walked seemingly randomly, but Lydia was slowly steering him towards Harris island. She listened attentively, looking up at him as he talked. All his wonderful progress would have to be dismantled, of course, the existence of DJ Dayze carefully erased from the internet over time. Right now, though, she wasn’t about to curb that enthusiasm. Let him feel inspired. It would make everything so much easier, so much more comfortable. “Oh, I’d love to hear it!” Lydia exclaimed, grinning up at him. “I’m so happy for you, you deserve so many good things.”

 Cheeks reddening, Todd walked alongside Lydia, only too happy to follow where she led him. He wasn’t super sure where they were going, but he wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kinda guy. White Crest was cool because there were parties and bars with sick setups for him to play at, not because of the trees or whatever. “It’s honestly a ba-- really sick song,” Todd said, deciding mid-word that “a banger” wasn’t exactly how he wanted to describe his music to someone like Lydia. “Thanks! I… Yeah, I do.” He said with a sheepish grin. It felt a little weird to say, but Lydia was right. He’d worked hard for what he’d accomplished. And sure, it wasn’t much right now. But it would be.

 “You do,” Lydia agreed. “It’s just such a shame your friends can’t see it.” He would be less likely to disagree with her now, but even if he did, all it would reveal is that she had extra work to do, extra things to fix as she brought him in. His sound studio wasn’t even entirely finished, the fog had caused absurd delays in her construction, but she would figure it out. The sooner she could get him productive, the better. Of course, there was also the issue of getting Chloe back to being productive, and she hoped company and a new soul to talk to would draw her out of her… unfortunate funk. Lydia walked with him along the causeway, looking out to the ocean. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Sometimes I come along here just to enjoy how beautiful and peaceful it all is. Especially at sunset.”

 At Lydia’s words, Todd’s forehead wrinkled in a slight frown. It wasn’t that they didn’t see how hard he worked, right? They were just busy… But, that was kinda the same thing, wasn’t it? They were just, so into their own lives, so busy doing their own cool, awesome real adult stuff that they couldn’t see that he was doing just as serious and awesome stuff too. Swallowing, he shrugged. “I’ll show them once I get my big break.” He said with a grin and a nod. He was going to be the best DJ in Maine, no, in the entire Northeast. And then, he was going to go nationwide. He was gonna show them all that DJ Dayze was the real deal. That he was the real deal. Glancing out at the sea, Todd took in the dark waves. “It really is. I’ve never spent much time out here.” He admitted, “But it’s really really pretty.” 

 “Absolutely,” Lydia agreed with a smile, but he would never get his big break, would he? She would get hers, but oh, he wouldn’t. “Are you more of an indoors, person, then?” That was good news, if so. Lydia still didn’t quite have them exactly where she wanted, but being down to one meal was horrifically monotonous, and frankly unhealthy for both of them. She needed to be back up to a full house, so the rest of the ground work would have to happen later. All the same, outdoorsy humans were a nightmare to keep in the house. They bounced off the walls, itched to go into the garden, which also wasn’t feasible with Remmy there, and were just harder upkeep. “I’m working on a painting at the moment, repairing it, that shows the Irish coast line. When I look at it, I think of home.”

 With a rueful smile, Todd nodded. “Yeah, I’ve always liked chilling at home or like, going to movies or clubs than the outdoors. Like, outdoor sets are fun! But, I’ve never really been a great outdoors kinda dude, you know? I think it’s super pretty though!” He said quickly, just in case Lydia was like, a hiking kind of girl. He didn’t wanna make it sound like he’d hate it if she wanted to go spend the weekend in the outdoors or something. “Oh, that’s really cool.” He said, genuinely interested by that. He didn’t know much about Lydia, where she was from, or how long she’d lived in White Crest. “Have you lived here all your life? Or uh, are you from Ireland?”

 “Oh, I get it. My brother is like that. Rather at a nightclub than a forest. Which I totally understand, I love both, the balance. But in my mind, Nature is the original artist, and we can only ever aspire to be as great as her.” Lydia paused, thinking of Sammy’s blood on the walls, how her first thought when his body had dropped to the floor was that the blood spatters had looked like a bouquet. She smiled, shaking away the thought. He had become irrelevant, Todd was the human that mattered now. “Sorry, I hardly meant to wax lyrical like that.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, holding him close. “I grew up in Argentina,” Lydia said. “And Peru. I’ve lived in Northern America most of my life, but my family has a special connection to Ireland. One way or another, it is always home. Then, I’ve only been here in White Crest for a year….Hey, my place isn’t far from here,” She started, as if it was an errant thought, rather than a carefully planned trap. “Do you want to come over for a bit?”

 At the mention of a brother, Todd realized that he didn’t even realize that Lydia had siblings. He’d talked about his own siblings, with their careers working for his father, their lives as just three more cogs in the corporate machine. But, had he really never asked her about her own family? “For sure, for sure. I kinda think of music the same way? Like, there are so many cool sounds in nature. There’s music all around you, as long as you listen for it.” He said with a nod. As she apologized, he shook his head energetically. “No, no, I like hearing you talk about art.” He said with a grin. She’d always listened to him, he wanted to show her that he cared too. Because he did, even if he didn’t super get it. “Oh forre-- really? My family’s from Brazil, actually! I grew up in Boston, but I’ve been a couple times. Never been to Peru, though.” At her suggestion, Todd blinked, startled. She was inviting her back to hers? She’d never done that before. “Uh… Yeah! Yeah, that’d be really cool.” He said with a grin. 

 “I couldn’t agree more. The most joyous sounds of spring are the birds returning, in autumn, the gentle rustling of leaves underfoot.” Lydia laughed. “But those are perhaps not the noises that inspire your music.” Lydia pressed herself closer against his side, lighting up with a false excitement at his agreement. “Wonderful. You can tell me about your trips to Brazil as you go. I’ve been to Brasilia, but nowhere else, which is a horrific shame considering how much the country has to offer.” Lydia said, slowly ambling them along to her home. “I feel so much better just for having you with me, you know? You’re so… You make my life so much more vibrant. You fulfill part of me.” Specifically, her stomach, but she wasn’t about to mention that, not yet. This was all part of the game. First, she would express something loving, intense, what they wanted to hear, and then… Lydia shook her head, smiling in a self deprecating manner, looking like she might blush. “Sorry. I must sound so silly.” Let them tell you how much they wanted to hear it. Make it all seem more real, like you were as swept up by it all as they were.

 Letting out a small laugh, Todd nodded. “Yeah, not quite the sounds I go after. But, like, you get what I mean.” He grinned as they continued to walk, arm in arm through the woods. The feeling of her body pressed against him sent his heartbeat racing. God, Lydia was… something else. Just being around her, he didn’t even know how to describe how she made him feel. It was like she was really seeing him, for who he was. “Brasilia, I’ve never been there. My family, we’re from São Paolo, so that’s usually where we went. I’ve been to Rio a few times too, mostly for Carnival with my cousins. Carnival is such a cool time.” He said, thinking back to the colorful costumes and amazing, wild nights he’d had. At her words, Todd felt the feeling in his chest swell, warmth washing over him. “No, no, it’s not silly at all. I, uh… I feel the same way. About you.” He said, a touch bashful. 

 “That sounds amazing,” Lydia said, leaning into him as she slowly meandered back to her home. Nearly at the end post. “I can only imagine. I mean, I know you’re the party type, so I can only imagine how much you loved Carnival.” Not that there would be any raves where they were going. He blushed, warming up under her words. Lydia’s smile wasn’t as bashful of his, but rather like someone who had drawn the perfect hand in poker, or someone who wanted you to believe they had. “I’m ever so glad to hear that,” she said, tracing small circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. “We’re here,” she breathed, walking them into the driveway of her mansion. She pulled out her keys, waving to O as she unlocked the door. “Well? What do you think?”

 “It was just so awesome, being in the middle of it all. We were there for a week and it was the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I want to go again someday. It’s just such a cool time, cuz like, the entire city is just one massive party.” Todd said, thinking back to the crazy times he’d had in Rio. It had been so much fun, partying with his cousins, just bouncing from street party to party that spilled across the city. He’d loved every second of it. As they walked up to the massive house, Todd blinked in surprise. Not that he didn’t expect a mansion-- she had a private driver who picked him up whenever they went places, like, he didn’t not expect a mansion. But, seeing it for real? That was a different story. “Wow. This place is huge. It’s uh,” He nodded, still startled by the house. “It’s amazing. Really really pretty.” He said, not really knowing how else to describe the giant home. “You live here all by yourself? That sounds… kinda lonely.”

 Everything was pristine. Lydia wanted it to be. A new start, for him and her both, was just what she needed to get her household under control. A Magritte hung on the wall with a dark wood polished to perfection. There was no evidence in the hall of that dreadful attack, the Bannister and door frame and floor all following and new. Upstairs, she already had new clothes in the dresser, new sheets on the bed. Sammy Metz was all but replaced. "You're ever so kind. I made this place somewhere I wanted to live and show off." She took him by the hand, tugging him into the living room so he could see the large French windows into her small garden. "No, not entirely by myself. Why, are you offering to keep me company?" Lydia murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist, smiling up at him. Even if he wanted to pull away, he couldn't. "You could belong here, you know, here with me. If that's what you want."

 Still taking in the massive house, the art, the wooden banisters, Todd was in absolute awe. There was just something so distinctly Lydia about this place. It was elegant and pretty and polished in all the same ways she was. “Makes sense, it really looks like it. Like, that’s… a really cool painting. I feel like I’ve seen it in a museum somewhere.” He said, nodding to the painting on the wall. At her question, Todd felt his cheeks redden and he waved his hands apologetically, “I, uh, that’s not what I was getting at-- it’s just, it’s like this huge house, you know? It seems like it’d be really lonely to be in, that’s all.” He said, trying not to be too forward about the situation. But, Lydia didn’t seem to mind? At least, that’s not how it seemed, with her holding him tight and staring up at him. Swallowing, he looked at her, “Uh… are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to get in the way or anything.”

 “You probably have. I was loaning it out to a museum for an exhibition for the last few years,” Lydia replied, grinning up to him. Why were all humans in their twenties so uncultured? Why couldn’t he name even that it was a Magritte? It was truly appalling that the best company in her home was a cat. He blushed, with every beat of his heart stepping closer into her trap. Without Remmy here, it was lonely, but Todd would hardly alleviate that, would he? “I’m sure. Are you? It has to be your choice. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” The gesture was symbolic more than anything else, but the rituals of the old ways still needed to be followed. He had to say yes, even if her magic was part of the reason. She had him so thoroughly wrapped around her finger that he would have said yes, even without the kiss, but he still had to say it.

 “Seriously? Wow, that’s ins--” Todd caught himself, he didn’t want to sound like a total loser, “Incredible. Like, really. That’s so cool that you have something like this. But, uh, I guess it makes sense, given your work.” He nodded, trying to hide how just out of his depth he was. He knew that Lydia worked with art, restoring them, but the specifics of it were all a bit of a mystery to him. As she continued to talk, Todd rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide how her words made him feel. She was sure, she wanted him here. She knew how hard he worked for his music, she appreciated him. And she… wanted him. It felt nice, being wanted. “I, uh… If you’re sure, I’d like that. I’d like to, uh, live here with you. Together.” He said.

 Lydia could not stand this small talk for one second longer. His talents far outweighed how interesting he was. She just smiled appreciatively, tucking her hair behind her should. “I like owning pretty things.” She was so ready to pull away from him to wash the human grime off her skin, and then when he spoke she had to stop herself stamping her feet in annoyance. I’d like and I will were just ever so grammatically too far apart. In spirit, they were the same. She just needed a little more, to ensnare him in her little red promise threads. Lydia pressed herself a little closer, grinning so much it hurt her cheeks, as if he had made her whole week. “Promise me you won’t leave me?” She murmured into his ear, sliding one hand around the back of his neck.

 The way she was looking up at him, the way that she just seemed to see him, all of him, and care? Todd was smitten. He… wow, he really, really liked her. More than any other girl he’d dated, because she wasn’t like the other girls. There was more to her and he wanted to know it all. She cared so much about what he did, had supported him so much, and he wanted to be able to do the same for her. At her question, as she wrapped her hand around him, he could feel the warmth of her pressed against him. “I… I’d never leave you. Never.” He said, shaking his head at the idea. “I promise, I’ll be here for you.” He said, because it was true. In all the ways she’d been there for him, he wanted to be there for Lydia. 

 “Oh Todd…” Lydia smirked, running her fingers through a lock of his hair. “That was far too easy.” She dropped back down to her heels and stepped away, smoothing down her clothes. She chuckled, giddy on a successful hunt. It was almost good enough to heal the ache in her chest. Her face shifted, her affection mask dropped to one of indifference to him and pride in herself. It was a delicious feeling. “But then you never were the brightest spark. Chloe!” She called up the stairs, pursing her lips as Chloe slunk into view, staring at Todd with a sinking look of understanding. “Meet Todd. He’s the one the sound production studio is for.”

 “Easy..?” Todd echoed, not sure what was going even as Lydia pulled away. What did she mean by that? What was going on? His eyebrows pinched together as he watched the way her face shifted, into an expression he’d never seen before. It was a completely different side of her. What? “Brightest spark-- I don’t understand. Who?” Head spinning in confusion, he looked up to where Lydia was speaking and saw a girl emerge from one of the doors, her face falling as she stared at him. It almost looked like she was… sad? Sad for him? What? “Sound production studio? What’s… what’s going on, Lydia?” He asked as he stared back and forth from the two women. “Who’s that?”

 “How can I put this succinctly? Todd, you aren’t my dinner date, you’re my dinner,” Lydia gestured for Chloe to come downstairs. “Come on now, you can see I’m not human.” She gestured at her ears and her wings. “You’ve been able to see that for a while, there’s no denying it.” Since their first kiss, after all. “Chloe will take you through the details, I’m far too busy for all that, but now that you’ve promised to stay here, you won’t get to leave. I’ve already even picked out your new clothes.” She pat his cheek with a bright smile. “Smile, Todd. This is an honour. An honour where your brain and body collapses under my influence until I have consumed every part of your spirit in a few short years, but an honour nonetheless. You were the most talented of all the humans I hunted these last few months.” Lydia wondered what Remmy might have said, had they seen this. Would it have horrified them more or less than the basement, she wondered idly. She shoved the thought away before it could sour her mood further. “Chloe, darling, now.” She glared at the other woman, before looking back at Todd. “Of course, I expect your complete obedience, but don’t worry. I will reward good behaviour with the approval you desperately crave. Chloe! Speaking of, Todd, give me your phone, and any other communication devices you have on you. Now, please.” She held out her hand with an expectant smile.

 Chloe stood frozen at the top of the stairs, staring down at the boy in the hall. He looked even younger than Sammy had, but she didn’t know if that was because he was, or because he looked so lost. No matter how much she willed herself to move, she couldn’t quite do it. Anneliese had done it for her, and for Sammy. She’d done it without flinching, with a soft smile and a kind hand as she explained in her soft voice the hell they had found themselves in. Chloe had resented her for it for months, and Anneliese had just smiled and accepted that as she smiled and accepted everything else. Like Anneliese had been playing the good jailor to Lydia’s bad jailor. Even as their friendship had grown, it had taken Chloe years to realise that that gentle warm flame had to be carefully cultivated and protected from every icy gust and flaring temper. Sammy hadn’t gotten angry at Anneliese at all, but he hadn’t processed anything for a week, until one night he’d collapsed in Anneliese’s arms in roaring sobs. She’d been strong as a willow tree then, and had held him as long as he needed. But now there was no Anneliese. There was no Sammy. Chloe would have to do this for Todd. She didn’t know if she could. Chloe swallowed as Lydia barked her name, and slowly forced herself down the stairs. She didn’t even look at Lydia, watching Todd to work out what he needed. Praying she could provide whatever that would be. 

 Still frozen in place, Todd stared at Lydia, not able to comprehend just what she was saying. Dinner… She was… He-- what? “What do you mean I can’t leave, I can just,” He said, starting to turn towards the door. But, even as he took the first few steps towards the door, he felt his stomach start to twist and turn. It started out as discomfort before shifting into full on pain as he tried to put his hand on the doorknob. His hand felt like needles, burning hot and searing, were being pushed into his skin as he gripped the door and he let out a cry before pulling his hand away. Looking down at his hand, Todd stared. It looked fine, there was nothing wrong with it. But, his stomach continued to writhe and the pain continued to grow and grow until he was dizzy from it all. Shaking his head, he reeled away from the door. “What’s… what did you do to me?” He asked Lydia, not understanding what was going on. “My phone? I… Why?” He asked.

 Lydia rolled her eyes, pursing her lips as he made to move for the door. She didn’t move, she didn’t have to, as the invisible chains tying him to this house made themselves ever so clear. Humans were so repetitive, really. Every hunt was a carefully choreographed dance, and Lydia always knew what her prey’s next step would be. “I made you mine. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Her smile was sharp and icy, lips closed, so that he knew her patience was wearing thin. “Because you won’t need it anymore. God, you are slow. I don’t have all day, you really don’t want to provoke my ire.” Lydia clicked her fingers impatiently, before opening her hand for his phone again. 

 God, she had faced so much of Lydia’s rage and grief recently. Was it terrible to be the tiniest grateful there would be someone else to share it with her? It was, Chloe decided immediately, looking at the confusion and hurt in his eyes. Lydia had been hunting him for so long, now. “Todd, please- please just give it to her.” Chloe hated saying it, the words sickening her mouth. It felt like a betrayal. But Chloe hadn’t insisted the Sammy let go of his plans with Ariana, and- her stomach lurched. “Please.” Her voice cracked. 

 “Made me yours?” Todd shook his head, clutching at his stomach. He felt sick, he felt like his body was going to collapse in on himself as he tried to fight through the feeling. She didn’t, she didn’t control him. He wasn’t hers. Not like that. He cared about her, he-- God, he thought he loved her. But this, it wasn’t love. It was all an act. “You don’t… I thought you cared about me.” He said, bitterness and fear leaking into his voice. “My friends, they’ll know something’s up if you take my phone. They’ll figure it out.” Todd said, pleading. Hoping that it would work. He could only hope that it was true. But, would any of his friends notice? Would any of them care?

 Looking at the other woman, he stared at her with wide eyes. “Chloe-- who are you? Why are you listening her?” He asked, though a creeping feeling grew in his stomach, overwhelming the sense of pain. The feeling was dread, was fear. Fear that she was exactly like him. Trapped. A hostage. A prisoner. 

 How many people had Anneliese done this for? Six, seven humans, who had walked in here looking for love, attention, fame, and had not walked out ever again. Todd looked at her with a slow realisation that cracked open Chloe’s heart and splintered her soul. How Anneliese had done this more than once was beyond her. She tried to smile, but it felt more like a gash across her lips. “It’s o- I’ll help you, okay? I’ll explain everything.” But she didn’t dare go closer, not while Lydia glared daggers at him. When it came to her own instincts and the magical desire to please Lydia, the latter would always win. 

 Lydia’s voice had no such kindness in them. “I think you have excessive faith in your friends. You certainly have excessive faith in my patience. You’ve barely been here five minutes, and you’re already a disappointment. I really expected better of you, Todd.” He’d succumb. They all did, in the end. And once he got a taste of how good obeying could be, she wouldn’t have to deal with this again. Especially once he succumbed to the promises she would ask him to make. 

 Eyes darting between Chloe and Lydia, Todd felt the fear grow and claw in the pit of his stomach. Chloe was going to help him? Could he even trust her? But, he didn’t see how he had any choice in the matter, not anymore. Looking back at the door, the motion sent a fresh wave pain shooting through his body and Todd let out a whimper of pain. He did his best to hide the way it hurt, the way all of this hurt. Not just on a physical level but… he’d thought that Lydia had cared about him. He thought she’d loved him. How had this happened? With a reluctant expression on his face, Todd pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Lydia. “That’s all I have. I don’t… Please. Why are you doing this?” He asked, still trying to wrap his head around it all. 

 “There. Oh, Todd, you’ve made me ever so happy. I knew you would do the right thing.” Lydia pulled a face at his lock screen before turning the phone off altogether. Then she looked up at him and smiled, stretching on her toes to kiss his cheek, knowing with a precise cruelty how much he would crave her acceptance. It was like giving a starving man a Christmas roast. “Because I need to eat. There are worse places to be. Honestly, Todd, you would have inevitably been eaten by a zombie or something in the next few years anyway, torn limb from limb in some terribly disturbing way. Here, you get all your own space, your own sound production studio, you’ll spend the rest of your short life in the lap of luxury, if you behave.” Lydia gestured Chloe over, who paused just short of putting a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “I’m not particularly interested in answering all your questions or dealing with… this, so I am leaving you in Chloe’s hands. I still have to get the singer, and then deal with your social media presences. It is ever such an inconvenience how much all modern artists self-advertise these days.” Lydia looked to Chloe sharply. “Sammy’s old bed is already made up. Show Todd around, and make sure that by the time I’m back, he is ready to make the rest of his promises. I don’t want to deal with this behaviour again, am I understood? You’ll be good for me, won’t you, Todd?”

 The relief, the strange easing sense of calm that washed over him at her words, Todd couldn’t understand it. But, it felt so good, knowing that she was happy with him. He wanted her to be happy, that was… no, it wasn’t all he wanted. He wanted to leave this place, he wanted to run away as fast as he could. But, it felt so good, so right, knowing that he’d done well by Lydia. It just didn’t make sense, it didn’t. He hated this, but he loved her, hated what she’d done, but couldn’t help the way he just wanted to please her. What was happening? Barely able to focus on her words, Todd nodded dumbly, still in a state of shock. What was she talking about? Need to eat? Zombies? What? No, those things were just like… horror movie gimmicks. They weren’t real. But, her question jolted him out of his daze and he blinked. “I… I want to.” He said because, as much as it pained him to admit it, the words were the truth. Even though every inch of him screamed no, he still wanted to be good for her, to make Lydia happy. Why? Why was this happening?

 “That’s what I wanted to hear,” Lydia pat his cheek twice, with another rewarding smile. Beyond that, this wasn’t her problem right now. She pulled out her own phone, texting her next treat as she turned away. 

 He looked like someone had wacked the back of his head with a pan. What had Anneliese even said to her, the first time? Had she made her a cup of coffee? Hot cocoa? Had she shown Chloe the shared upstairs bedroom, their own private bathroom and kitchenette area? Chloe remembered learning about these things, but it was all stilted, as torn up as she had been when she’d realised her escape had been impossible. The bed had been good; Chloe had just sank into the mattress and pulled the duvet over her own head until the world had melted away in her own tears. Was that- was that what Todd needed right now? She tried touching his shoulder, as if that might snap him out of his daze, and opened her mouth only to close it, the words dying in her mouth. Lydia seemed unperturbed by her flustered silence, switching out her coat for a more distinguished, autumnal look. Like a whirlwind, Lydia was back out of the door, leaving them both in the synthetic cold of her absence. “We’re not supposed to linger in the hallway.” Even to Chloe, she sounded hollow. 

 The moment Lydia had left, Todd had assumed he would feel some kind of relief. That he would feel glad that she was gone. But, instead, the same kind of aching yearning that had filled him since that date, when she’d pressed her lips to his and everything had changed. Bitterly, he shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “Why’s this happening to me? I... I thought she cared about me.” He muttered, tears starting to prickle at the corner of his eyes. Todd swiped at his face with the back of his hand. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to just stand here and cry in front of a total stranger. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He said, “I’m sorry.” Todd mumbled, miserably. He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing, only that it felt like the right thing to say. After all, she was stuck here too, right? 

 “It’s not your fault. It’s not-” Chloe choked on her own words, because how could she tell him right now that Lydia did? In her own monstrous way, she cared, because she felt what they felt. She would hear their dying thoughts, strip them of all their privacy, and perhaps that was the only reason she cared, but she did. She chose the victims she could most tolerate being around, and that was as much as Lydia could care for any human. But it was no reassurance that the monster in the would destroy them with affection. “Don’t apologise to me. You’re going to be doing it so often anyway.” She was still rooted to the spot. “Uh, shit. Um. I’ll, uh, I can show you the bedroom? We can, uh, talk or you can have some time. We have to talk, before she gets back, but if you need a minute- I-” How had Anneliese done this? Chloe ran her hand through her hair. “Shit. Let’s go upstairs.”

 Feeling numb, Todd nodded at the woman’s words. “I think… I think I need a minute. But, thanks. Chloe, right?” He asked with a weak grin. He didn’t know how she’d wound up in this situation too, or even why he was here. Lydia’s words, they just confused him more and more. But, his mind was too much of a mess for him to process anything else. He needed to be alone and just get a handle on what was going on. If he even could. Following her up the stairs, he entered one of the bedrooms. The room was clean, the bed neatly made, clothes hanging in the closet. It was cold and clean and completely removed of any sort of personality. Sinking onto the bed, Todd dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking as the fear finally overtook him. A strangled cry of anguish worked its way free from his throat and he shook his head violently from side to side. No, no, no, no, no.

 This morning, he’d woken up, thinking that it was just any other ordinary day. And now? He was a prisoner. 

[let-me-write-shit]

Somebody To You: 16

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

Zoey never considered herself to be a city girl, but the longer she lived here, the more accustomed she became. Of course, there were perks she missed living in the suburbs. Yards, gardening, a better sense of security. She missed those nights where she could sit on her back porch, listen to the crickets chirping, and watch the lightning bugs dance around the lawn. Hearing the trees rustle in the darkness was a calm she could never quite replicate.

But city life was exciting. There was always something to do or something to see. People were on every corner and energies were always high. It was never boring. Downtown LA was bustling with people, especially for a Sunday afternoon. Andy had taken her on a little shopping spree after brunch. He said he wanted to buy a whole new wardrobe to ‘reinvent himself’. She hadn’t planned on buying anything, but he wasn’t having that. They stopped in a bunch of little boutiques, trying on all sorts of dresses, bathing suits, and shoes. There were so many hidden gems in the way of local small businesses in the area. And the store owners were always kind.

“I can’t wait to bring my sister out here one day,” Zoey held up a cute graphic tee, “Katie would love these shops.”

“Do you two talk a lot?” Andy asked.

Zoey re-folded the shirt and placed it back, “I try to, but not nearly enough. I miss her.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t really close growing up?”

“Yeah. We didn’t start getting close until right before I moved. It made leaving harder. She’s getting ready to start college soon. I think my parents are starting to freak out a bit that she’s moving on campus. Empty nest syndrome.”

“Little bird’s gotta learn to fly,” Andy spoke, earning a nod from Zoey.

The two decided to grab some crepes to go and ate them on a bench, watching strangers pass them by on the street, catching up on all their work stories, and talking about how awkward her date was the other day. Nancy’s friend was nice, alright, but clearly hadn’t been in a relationship before and had no clue how to communicate with women. He had potential if he found someone with patience, but she just wasn’t prepared to baby someone at the moment. She recalled Harry getting a kick out of it when she told him about it, but Zoey just felt bad. She made sure to let him down gently.

Eventually, they got on the topic of Zoey’s birthday coming up in three days. She had already told Andy that she wanted to go to the beach, but he made it a point to remind her that it was a birthday, therefore they needed to celebrate all day. They discussed having dinner at a nice restaurant with all of her friends, bar hopping afterward, and ending the night with a karaoke club. She started to get excited, especially since she just bought the perfect outfit to wear.

“What about Brett? Is he invited, or are he and Rory not speaking?”

“I didn’t tell you?!” Zoey exclaimed, turning towards him and swallowing her mouthful of crepe, “he asked Rory out last night! They’re official.”

“No fucking way!” Andy exclaimed, covering his mouth, “Bitch! Imagine the babies they’d make!”

“Cute little foreign babies!” Zoey cooed, laughing. 

“Does Harry know about them yet?”

Zoey pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, “I haven’t told him yet, so probably not.”

Andy went wide-eyed, an interested smirk stretching across his face, “Wonder how he’ll react when he finds out.” 

Zoey shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her food. She didn’t know. She was getting these weird mixed signals from Harry. He’s been back in England for a week now and even with the dramatic time difference, they’ve talked more this week than they did when he was on tour. She’d attribute that to him finally having some time off from work, but she knew that he’d been in the studio and had a few meetings, so even that wasn’t necessarily true.

But the increase in communication wasn’t what she was confused about. It’s the conversations themselves. At first, she thought Harry was handling the ‘Rory situation’ pretty well. He had confided in her that he wasn’t sure he wanted to be with her to begin with, which she had suspected. He had told Zoey about how his friends keep making jokes about how they think he likes her. At first, Zoey laughed it off. Her and Harry? That would never happen. She just simply wasn’t his type. And he made that very clear.

But then there would be moments. Subtle. But enough to catch her attention. A tone in his voice, an expression on his face, an extra-long silence where there didn’t need to be. Maybe she was reading into it after what he told her. Maybe she was reading into it because she secretly hoped it was true, which killed her. He was her best friend. She finally met someone whom she could be herself around without feeling uncomfortable. Someone she could confide in about anything and everything, and that meant even more to her now that Jess was gone. 

She didn’t want to jeopardize that by saying or acting on some stupid puppy love crush she had on Harry fucking Styles of all people. He doesn’t like her like that. And even if he did, how could they even attempt to make that work? Especially after he and Rory had a thing. What, so now they’re just swapping sexual partners? Even if Zoey was fine with her friend dating and sleeping with a fling of hers, it doesn’t mean that Aurora was. She couldn’t risk ruffling her roommate’s feathers. She didn’t want to lose her friendship or make things awkward at home, either. So, for now, she’d just keep her mouth shut while this little phase passes.

The two finished up eating when Andy checked his phone and suggested they start heading back to her place to get ready for work tonight. “Get ready? We’ve still got three hours before we have to leave!”

“Yes, but you need a shower and I want to show Nancy and Rory these clothes I got!” he shot back.

“Alright, alright! Fine!”

The ride back to the condo was like any other ride between the two friends: filled with painfully tone-deaf singing and dramatic dance. Nothing was out of the ordinary as the two rode the elevator to the twenty-second floor and discussed the predictions for the turnout at the bar tonight. Nothing seemed different as she punched her code into the front door and stepped inside. Except, instead of the typical scene she’d see, she walked in to see Nancy and Rory standing in the middle of the living room with huge smiles on their beautiful faces, surrounded by several large rolling luggage. One of which she noticed was her own.

“What are you doing?” Zoey asked them, turning to see Andy’s eager grin. Her eyes furrowed, confused, “What’s going on?”

“We’re taking you away for your birthday,” Nancy’s smile grew, stepping out from behind the luggage and walking towards her. Aurora followed closely behind.

“What? Where are we going?” Zoey asked, her heartbeat rising.

“That’s a surprise. ” Nancy grinned.

Zoey laughed skeptically, eyebrows raising, “This is a joke, right?” Everyone shook their head no and she asked, “What about work? What about Binx? Where are we going?”

Andy spoke up, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a hug, “I had our manager put in vacation time for us for almost a month now. We’ve had this planned for a while now.”

“And don’t worry about Binx. Brett’s going to watch him while we’re gone,” Aurora grinned, “We think we packed everything you’ll need, but if Nancy and I forgot anything, we’ll just get it while we’re there. Now come on! We need to go before we’re late!”

Overwhelmed, Zoey shoved the new clothes she just bought into her suitcase, double-checking her pockets to make sure she had her wallet and ID on her. Quickly, she grabbed a hoodie and they were off, making sure to grab Andy’s suitcase from his car before getting into Rory’s and heading to the airport. 

The whole way she was trying to make guesses as to where they were going, but none of them faltered. They had managed to get to the airport, check their luggage, and go through security with her being none the wiser. She wasn’t allowed to look at her ticket. Nancy was always beside her, holding onto Zoey’s documents and explaining to TSA agents and any airport employee they encountered that she was going on a surprise birthday trip, asking them to please not ruin it for her until they got to the gate. Most of them got a kick out of it. Finally, when they reached the gate, there, above the seating area, with Nancy recording her reaction, is where she found out where they were going.

Zoey gasped, her hands shooting up to her mouth and her legs giving out, she crumbled to the ground, tears forming in her eyes, “Rome?!” Her friends stood around her, laughing, smiling, and tearing up at her reaction. “You’re taking me to Rome?!”

Andy put a hand out for her, “You better get your ass up off this dirty-ass floor,” he choked, pulling her to her feet.

“Are you serious?” She repeated, holding onto him for support.

“You said you’ve always wanted to come here,” Aurora reminded her, wrapping her arms around her friend, “You deserve it.”

Nancy came over and they all had a group hug, onlookers staring at them with smiles on their faces when they realized what was going on. “You guys, this is crazy!” Zoey laughed, wiping the tears that ran down her cheeks.

“Well, it’s a long flight. A little over seventeen hours,” Nancy warned her, “and because of the time difference, we technically won’t be arriving until tomorrow night around 5 PM. But we made sure to bring a bunch of snacks and games to play while we’re on board.”

“And bitch, we’re in first class!” Andy squealed, jumping up and down.

Zoey’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping again as she processed everything that was going on. “How the hell did you guys manage all of this? I have a passport? How did you get me a passport? Does Harry know about this? He had something to do with this, didn’t he?”

“We had help to get your passport,” Aurora admitted, “We had to snoop and call your parents to get all of your documents.”

“My parents know I’m going to Italy?!”

“And I’m a little offended you think Harry must have had some involvement in this! What, we couldn’t do this for you on our own?” Nancy feigned disappointment.

“No, I’m sorry, I just-”

“I’m kidding. He totally planned this,” Nancy laughed, “It was his idea to do this. We all just helped make it happen.”

“You guys!” Zoey smiled, pulling them into another long hug before they found a few empty seats in the corner of the seating area before they got ready to board. Zoey took the opportunity to Facetime Harry. It must have been a little before midnight, but she could bet that he’d still answer. And just like she suspected, the screen enlarged just in time to see the dark surrounding of Harry’s room illuminate when he switched on the lamp on his side table. 

He rubbed his eyes and squinted. When he saw the expression on Zoey’s face, his mouth stretched in a smile, “Surprised?” he asked.

Zoey shook her head, there was no hiding her grin, “How could you keep this a secret?”

“Because of that look, right there,” Harry pointed at her face, through the screen.

Nancy leaned over Zoey’s shoulder, “I’ll send you her reaction. It was amazing!”

“You’re going to be there, right?” Zoey asked, her eyes hopeful.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I head out in the morning. It’s a short flight for me. I’ll be there before you land.”

“Okay. I’ll let you get some sleep then. I’ll see you tomorrow!” she grinned.

“Safe travels,” Harry smiled.

Just before he could end the call she managed to say, “Oh, and Harry? Thank you.”

Harry nodded, winking before the call went blank. It was hard for him to sleep after that. He was too excited. She still had no clue what was to come.

Nancy wasn’t kidding. The flight was long. Excruciatingly long. Even in first class, it was hard to get comfortable. Her legs felt like jello and she had no feeling in her butt anymore. Her neck was so stiff that it was hard to move it. She had read an entire novel by the end of the first half of the flight, and she and Andy had gotten bored of playing cards. There was nothing else to do but sleep.

And sleep, she did. Until the discomfort of depressurization in the cabin made her ears painfully pop and woke her from her sleep. She looked out of the window to see a large city in the distance, slowly coming closer and closer. A chime throughout the airplane sounded, waking Andy beside her, and the pilot’s voice had announced their descent into Rome, followed up by a few other languages. 

Quickly, Zoey’s exhaustion was replaced with exhilaration, excitedly staring out the window as the plane collided with cement and sped down the runway towards their gate. They couldn’t get off fast enough. She thanked the pilots and the flight attendants on the way out, skipping down the hallways with her friends, grabbing their bags, and heading out to the car rental lot to pick up an SUV for the weekend, which Aurora gladly drove, as she was used to European roads, having traveled to Italy a few times before.

The air in Italy was different. Cleaner. Less pollutant. It had a faint smell of lemon and roasted coffee that felt so dreamy. Rory plugged their destination into the GPS and Zoey pressed her nose against the window, staring out at the scene. The architecture was grand. Old. Historical. Beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat whenever she recognized something from the endless hours of research she had done on the history of Rome. She was simply mesmerized. 

They rode for twenty minutes as the sun began to cast a golden glow across the sky, still brightly illuminating the streets below, the streets lined with tall cypress trees and stone walls that separated property lines from large estates to which you could barely see from the road when they finally pulled up to a grand, cast-iron gate. Zoey watched as Rory looked at her phone, punched a code into the call box, and the gate slowly started to open. 

As soon as they pulled into the white gravel driveway, they noticed the vineyard that stretched the length of the grounds on either side of the driveway that separated them leading up to a huge water feature that sat in the center of the wraparound drive situated in front of a massive seven thousand square foot elegant Italian villa. 

“Holy shit,” they all muttered, clamoring out of the car and gawking up at the building. 

“This whole thing is ours for a week?” Andy exclaimed, dumbstruck.

“That’s what Harry said,” Aurora said, opening the trunk door.

One by one they began to pull their luggage out when a whistle caught their attention. They turned to see Harry standing barefoot on the stone landing wearing wool cream-colored pants, a white tank top with an unbuttoned white short sleeve shirt over top, and yellow sunglasses. His arms were outstretched and he smiled, shouting, “Finally! Took you long enough.”

The four of them ran up, dropping their bags to give him a huge hug, shouting out various greetings and shouts of thanks.

He turned to Zoey, grabbing the handle of her suitcase with one hand and wrapping an arm around her shoulder with the other. Her heart fluttered at his touch. He looked and smelled different in Italy. It suited him. Harry’s arm pressed down on the end of his ponytail as he pulled Zoey closer to him and he said aloud, “Now, we are going to make this the best week of your life. But to do that, we have one other surprise for you. So if you’d be so kind as to follow me inside…”

“...What is going on?” Zoey asked, suspiciously following the singer with her friends behind her, Nancy, again, filming her reaction.

Harry grinned as he took her hand, leading her into the home. Everyone took in the scene, gaze scanning the beautiful Tuscan terracotta flooring up the Venetian plastered walls lined with beautiful Italian paintings and artwork and the elegant staircase with wrought iron railing. He noticed she took a deep breath and turned to him.

“Is that food? Are you cooking us dinner?” Zoey asked.

Harry had them stop just before entering what she could see was the kitchen and said, “Well, it’s funny you should mention that. Yes, I’m cooking. But I had a little help. You can come out!” he shouted.

And he watched Zoey’s face change from confusion to absolute shock as she screamed, letting go of his hand and running to her little sister. “Oh my God, Katie!” she screamed, pulling her little sister into a tight embrace, both of them beginning to cry as they looked each other up and down and wiped each other’s tears, muttering incoherent words of sentiment to each other. 

Harry knew how much Katie meant to her, but to see it firsthand almost felt like a privilege. And to think, he almost didn’t think to invite her. She only just turned eighteen. It took a lot of convincing for her parents to let her go. He had offered to pay for the entire trip, but her parents didn’t care about that. He had to Facetime and call them several times, promise to keep them updated at every point of the trip, make sure Katie called them every night before bed, send a general itinerary of the week's events, and give emergency numbers to all in attendance, which everyone was glad to give. He picked Katie up from the airport himself, arriving only two hours before the rest of them.

“You knew, too?” Zoey breathed, finally pulling away from her little sister, her words shaking along with her hands as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. 

Harry felt a lump in his throat begin to rise as soon as he noticed Zoey’s chin quivering from the emotions and Katie nodded, explaining everything that Harry had done. 

Zoey shook her head, overwhelmed, and took a deep breath, motioning towards her friends. “Have you met these guys yet, then?” When Katie shook her head again, she introduced the three, “This is Andy. He’s my amazing friend and coworker. And these two are my roommates. Nancy and Rory.”

The three of them pulled the shy Katie away from her older sister, giving her hugs and showering her with compliments while Zoey turned her attention to Harry. He noticed her red, puffy eyes and grinned, pulling her into a tight hug that she could sink into. It’s only been a little over a week, but it could have been longer for all he knew. Facetime was hardly enough. 

When Zoey pulled away, she walked back over to her little sister, running a hand through her sister’s long brown hair and smiling. Seeing them side-by-side he could see the similarities in their features if he looked hard enough. 

“Alright,” Harry announced, “We have about fifteen minutes until dinner is done, so how about a quick tour of the villa while we wait?” Everyone cheered words of approval, grabbing their bags and following Harry as he walked through the house, “There are seven bedrooms here and a few convertible offices, so everyone gets their own bedroom with more to spare. There are three bedrooms on this floor and four more upstairs. Katie already claimed her bedroom down here. Nice choice, might I add,” he winked at Katie who held onto Zoey’s arm as they peaked into Katie’s room which overlooked the vineyard. “I left the master bedroom upstairs for Zoey since it’s her birthday week. I also picked a room upstairs, so everything else is up for grabs.”

As they roamed throughout the house, everyone began picking rooms. Andy had picked a bedroom adjacent to Katie that had a walkout to the oversized Mediterranean terrace that housed an outdoor seating area with a firepit and a grapevine covered trellis with hanging outdoor chandeliers overtop of a long outdoor dining table, while Aurora and Nancy picked the last two bedrooms upstairs with Harry and Zoey, leaving their bags in their rooms before visiting the two large living rooms, the library, formal dining room, chef’s kitchen, and more. Finally, dinner was ready. Everyone helped take plates, utensils, and glassware out to the table on the back terrace while Harry carefully brought out the large serving plate filled with Chicken Tetrazzini and two bottles of wine tucked in his arms.

They each filled up their plates as Harry passed the wine around. “You’re legal to drink here,” Zoey grinned, filling up her sister’s glass.

“Oooh! You’re going to have so much fun while you’re here!” Andy cooed, smirking at Katie. “Don’t tell your mama on us!”

“Definitely not!” Katie assured her, taking her first sip of wine, and smiling.

Dinner was wonderful, and the view made it even better as the sun began to set. The villa sat up on a hill, overlooking miles and miles of beautiful land with an abundance of pine, fig, cherry, pear, and apple trees. The pool sat yards away with lounge chairs surrounding it. She couldn’t have dreamt up a more beautiful place if she tried.

After dinner, Harry made up a fire in the firepit and everyone sat around with their glass of wine, laughing and enjoying each other's company. One by one they began dropping like flies, heading inside to take a shower or get some rest until there were three left. Harry sat with his back against the view of the yard while Zoey sat opposite him, Katies’ head resting on her lap, sleeping, as her big sister braided and unbraided her hair. 

Harry grinned adoringly, “You’re not what I expected.”

Zoey snorted, looking up from her sister, “What does that mean?”

He shifted in his seat, cocking his head to the side, her face illuminating in the reflection of the dancing flames, “Well, you’re a bartender. And for some reason, whenever I think of a bartender, I think of a badass, tattoo-covered, wild child, tough girl. And I don’t mean to stereotype, but you’re nothing like that. I mean, yeah you can handle yourself. But you’ve got no tattoos, you’re so sweet, and you’re almost like the mom of the group, always making sure everyone else is happy first.”

“I think most bartenders are like me, we just have to put on a tough act in front of customers so they take us seriously,” Zoey said before grinning, “And I do have tattoos.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “You do? Where?”

She winked, taking a sip of her wine, “Don’t worry about it.”

His mouth dropped, inadvertently scanning her, wondering where her tattoos could be hidden and what on earth they could even be. He hadn’t pegged her for the type to even have a tattoo, let alone in a suggestive spot. 

He watched as Zoey raised her wine glass to her lips once more, taking the smallest sip. The way that the light illuminated her features gave her a romantic and sultry glow, hitting the highs of her cheekbone and accentuating the shadows and curves of her collarbone. He decided he’d had enough wine and would end it there for the night. 

“We should get to bed before jetlag gets us,” Harry suggested.

Zoey nodded in agreement, lightly shaking her sister awake. Harry put out the fire and reminded Katie to send her parents a quick text as they sent her off to bed and the two began to climb the steps, his arm over her shoulders, turning off lights along the way, passing Nancy and Aurora’s room before reaching Harry’s next. They stopped for a moment as he backed up to his door, slowly dragging his arm off of her shoulders. Apart of him wanted to invite her in. He didn’t want the night to end, he wanted to stay up for a few more hours and talk. He still had so much he wanted to tell her. But the more he looked at her, the more he heard his friends taunting him in the back of his mind. ‘You love her’ ‘You’re blind’ ‘By the end of this trip you’ll realize it.’ They weren’t right. He couldn’t let them be right. 

“Night,” he grinned, opening his door.

Zoey’s expression looked uncertain for a moment, hesitating which caused Harry to freeze, almost in a panic, before she blinked and smiled, looking up at him, “Night. See you in the morning.”

He watched as she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her, achingly wondering what she was thinking about.

Zoey leaned her back against the closed door, closing her eyes tightly and sighing before standing up straight and flipping her suitcase open, pulling out the contents and placing her clothes in the proper drawer or hanging them in the closet before putting her toiletries away in her en suite. Anything to distract herself from the absolute embarrassment she almost just made of herself. How much wine did she drink to think that it might be okay to kiss him?

KEEP READING

------------------------------

Taglist for Somebody To You:

@thurhomish , @stilljosiegrossie , @odetostep , @apples2019 , @stylesmioamore

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Radio Host & Radio Ghost - Nov 14

Alastor meets a ghost possessing a vintage radio.

He’s absolutely delighted.

Valera

Valera hums, rubbing their hands together. What a lovely day to bring demons into their home. Not a single consequence could possibly result from this! With Alastor's okay, they could finally get around to opening a portal for him, whatever water he'd decided was sufficient rippling and turning into an inky void before his eyes. On her side, Valera plops back on the couch and awaits his arrival.

Alastor

And Alastor’s more than ready to jump through the inky void he’s been promised is a portal!

He has not, however, been informed that the portal he just jumped DOWN into is VERTICAL on the other side.

He lands on his back with a blurt of confused mixed frequency crosstalk. What.

Valera

A laugh track plays from across the room, and Valera leans forward to get a good eyeful of the poor, confused fellow. "My dear, if I'd known you were falling all over yourself to get here, I'd have invited you much sooner! Come now, pick up those sorry spirits and have some spirits with me." Funny way to talk about spiked tea, but alright Val.

Alastor

Disoriented by the 90° shift in the angle of gravity, he blinks up at the ceiling for a moment. “What, was the repeated pleading to come see it not obvious enough?”

As his head sorts itself out he abruptly registers the laugh track—SOMEBODY ELSE’S laugh track—and he immediately sits up and looks toward the source of the sound. “Well!!” He’s on his feet in a flash and crossing the room, heading like an arrow toward the authentic, vintage, genuine, incomparable 1931 Philco 90 Baby Grand Cathedral Radio. “Oh my goodness, what a beauty! Look at this! Oh, this is the only cathedral I’ll ever worship at.” He kneels down to get a better look at the front of it. “The wood needs a little love and care—walnut, isn’t it? I don’t know wood but I know my radios, I could swear Philco used walnut—but it’s in fantastic condition!” He presses the side of his head to the front, eyes closed like he’s trying to listen to it. “All nine tubes sound beautiful, just beautiful!” Apparently that’s something you can hear, at least if you’re Alastor.

He sits back and turns to the man sitting next to the radio, beaming. “Listen to me, gushing away without even—Hello! May I compliment you on your lovely home, sir!”

Valera

Whatever Valera was planning to say is forgotten immediately, Alastor's enthusiastic response to her latest acquisition more than entertaining enough to distract her from her train of thought.

The radio flicks on and off like its fluttering its lashes, dial twirling playfully in a reflection of the Ghost Of The Hour's own beaming grin. A waggle of his fingers, and he speaks, voice emanating from the radio and rather garbled as the dial flicks back and forth.

"Compliment taken and appreciated, you beautiful stranger! Aren't *you* all the candy and then some? Lovely to meet a man who knows his stuff, you're right on all counts! Walnut, hand rubbed finish, this is a genuine type two article straight from the production line of late 1931! Updated with AVC and the beautiful addition of type 47 power pentode tubes for the finest and most reasonably priced audio on the market!" A pause to "breathe" as the radio's light flickers, and he shrugs, still beaming. "I'd offer to shake your hand, my good man, but I find I left my tangibility back home. Though I'm happy to try!"

Alastor

His invisible studio audience oohs and aahs appreciatively at each new technical detail. “Reasonably priced, oh, boy—I’d barely paid off a ‘32 when I died! Eighty bucks, if I remember right! Well with the price but good golly if I wouldn’t have loved to enjoy it a little longer.”

He gets to his feet, leaving one hand lingering on top of the radio affectionately. “Oh, I’d give it a shot! Typically, the dead can touch the dead.” He offers his hand. “The name’s Alastor! I’m a radio man myself—on air from ‘24 to ‘33, you might have heard me if you were in range of New Orleans! And what do I call you, my friend?”

Valera

"Oh! A fellow dearly departed? And so close to my own time, give or take a few years! I'd offer my condolences on your departure from the mortal realm, but it seems to me that you're doing rather well for yourself! PLEASURE to meet you, Alastor!" He takes the offered hand in his own, grinning even wider when he realizes he can actually touch the red newcomer. He's got a handshake like he's going to sell you something, firm and eager. "New Orleans, you say? KTRD? Well I never! I do believe I played your station in my old shop! Your broadcast helped me sell quite a few radios back in the day."

A delighted chuckle, and he gives Alastor's hand a last squeeze before dropping it to mess with his suit lapels. "My friends called me Al, but my name is Alexander! I had some other names too I'm sure, but they haven't found their way back yet."

Alastor

He shakes back just as eagerly and his grin stretches wider. “Yessiree, that was me! *Your Pal Al, first voice you hear in the morning and last voice you hear at night!* Why, if I’d known that I was doing free advertising for Philco, I would have written them a letter and asked them to give me a Baby Grand on the house. Still, probably the best eighty bucks I ever spent.”

He takes a step back, giving Alexander a bit of his own space. “I’d catch you up on what you missed, but I’d probably only be able to offer you a couple of years—were you ‘31, or did that just happen to be the model you had nearby when you shuffled off the mortal coil?—and I’ve spent my time since then down in Hell—hope that’s not too off-putting, you know how it is, make a few little mistakes and forget to say your Hail Marys before you kick the bucket and suddenly you find you’re serving an afterlife sentence without possibility of parole! I expect you’ve had a better chance to keep up with the news than I have!”

Valera

"I'd have sent you one myself if I hadn't bought the farm! But your business was appreciated, I'm sure. A radio broadcaster with your chops has quite the eye for quality if I do say so myself, your radio was in the best hands possible!"

"This beauty was a gift from my parents, got it new and died within the month, if memory serves! Damn shame, but it all worked out. I'm sure my mothers would be charmed that I was so attached!"

He waves off the news of Alastor's new home with a scoff. "Oh, pah to that! I was never much for religion before I bit the dust, God always struck me as a terrible sort of man. If you wound up in Hell, it's probably for the better! I'd hate being in close quarters with the kind of parent who thinks tossing his children into fire and brimstone was the best teaching method!"

Alastor

A studio audience laugh at “attached”; attached in more senses than one, apparently. “They must have been women with exquisite taste! Quite a pity about the timing, but at least you’ve had plenty of time to enjoy it! Amazing how well it’s held up, can’t tell you the last time I saw quality like this. Of course,” he arches his eyebrows, “that might just be a side-effect of the neighborhood I’ve been living in, eh? Lucky you latched onto this beauty—otherwise you probably would have ended up living there too, considering your personal leanings. Fair enough if you don’t want to move into that big gated community in the sky, but I wouldn’t recommend the alternative, either.”

He glances over at Valera—wow, look at that, he actually does remember that they’re in the same room. “Speaking of which...” He nods at the spot of the portal he so gracelessly stepped out of earlier. “You probably don’t want to take this with you the next time you spend the night at your fiancé’s. I’ve never heard of a ghost voluntarily walking into Hell so I’m not sure if they’d immediately notice, but I do know that imps conducting business topside are charged with keeping an eye out for rogue spirits that ought to be down below. You take him in, they might not let him back out.”

Valera

Alexander rolls back on his heels, happy to peek around Alastor and back at Valera. Ah, his unexpected rescuer who he's trying very hard not to be wildly rude to by screaming at over the existence of actual aliens! Thumbs up!

As for Valera, she looks at Alastor with raised eyebrows. "Good to know! I hadn't made any plans yet, but it would be a damn shame to get this fellow stuck in a new prison so soon after getting him out of the previous one." A sip at her cup, and she curls her tail politely around her legs. "Either way, I brought you here to help with repairs! Bring your friend over here and lets start getting the cobwebs out of his home, hm?"

Alastor

“Why, of course! Pardon me—“ And up it goes. As he carries the radio over to Valera he’s cradling it half like it’s a heavy sack of groceries and half like it’s a baby. “I didn’t have an opportunity to look around the back, what all needs doing?”

Valera

Valera opens her mouth, and is immediately cut off as Alexander practically flings himself forward to 'sit' on the floor next to the cleaning supplies. "There's almost no damage to the internals, lucky for us! My lovely little number's managed to hold up beautifully despite the.. Unideal conditions. This sweet faced dame here scraped off most of the wax from my previous landlord's attempt at what I assume was an exorcism, but a gentle wash wouldn't hurt! Aside from that, it's largely dusting and polishing! Mindless, really."

He chuckles, the dial on the radio tapping back and forth like a metronome. "Though the lady here took one look at the bottom of the chassis and said she'd rather call an expert, poor thing. From what I saw, it's just a bit of rust and dirty wires, nothing even a child couldn't handle! I'm sure a man like yourself wont even break a sweat!"

Alastor

“So I see.” He leans forward, arching an eyebrow as he inspects the remaining wax. “What kind of ‘unideal conditions’ are we talking about, here? And how *did* this end up here?” He directs that question to Valera. “Of all the places I’d expect to find a ‘31 Philco, you have to go pretty far down on the list before I start listing locations off of planet Earth. And even at that ‘the moon’ and ‘Mars’ would have been my next guesses.” SPEAKING OF WHICH, he leans toward Alexander and gives him an excited look. “Did you know we put ROBOTS on MARS?”

Okay, exciting news shared, back to business. He carefully inspects the bottom of the chassis himself—nothing too bad down there. “I’m as good an expert as you’ll need! I’ve lovingly cleaned off enough fine old radios in my time—although I’m hard-pressed to think of one as fine as THIS!” He looks over the selection of cleaning tools.

Valera

Valera's attempts to speak are once again completely drowned out by Alexander's crackly voice. "Oh she got me on Earth, rest assured! I was in one of my.. grand nephew's attics, I believe? And yes, I DID hear about the robots on Mars! I had nothing to do but listen to the radio while I was up there, and as much as they like to pretend they've murdered the art of broadcasting, there certainly are still plenty of stations out there sharing the news! Nothing compared to your own, of course, but still." A dip of his head towards Alastor, and he scoots closer to watch him work.

The standard tools are available. Wood cleaner, a few soft rags, a small steel wool brush, and rust removing solvents, along with a little pack of cloths for polishing brass. Val side eyes Alexander and deliberately doesn't speak as she picks up a rag to offer to Alastor.

Alastor

He's starting to detect a pattern here. "Say, my phantasmal friend!" He leans over and slings an arm around Alexander's shoulders. "I realize you haven't had much experience with conversation in a while—but let's let our friend Valera get a couple of words in edgewise from time to time, shall we?" He winks, then returns to studying the radio, this time inspecting the innards. He takes the rag and starts brushing out the worst of the dust, just a rough pass to get out the easy stuff. "Ah, of course you would have heard! Naturally. What kind of a state is radio broadcasting in these days, anyway? I've heard some dismal things."

Valera

There's a flash of confusion on Alexander's face as he looks between Alastor and Valera, but he nods without any protest, obligingly leaning in until Alastor releases him from the casual half embrace. "Of course! Terribly rude of me, I'll curb the enthusiasm. My manners could use as much dusting as my radio, it seems!" A light chuckle, and he props his chin on his hands, watching Alastor's movements intently.

"Miserable! It's atrocious the kind of programming they think passes standard these days. Once they broke the stations into specialties, the bar dropped straight past hell! Why, if you have a grave, Alastor, I'm sure you were rolling in it. Half the contents is advertisements, and the other half replays the same songs every few hours with no shame!" He heaves a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. Valera rolls her eyes.

Alastor

“Oh, Hell hasn’t fared much better, I’m afraid—although I’ve helped keep things interesting on the AM band, at least!” A weary sigh. “And to think in the twenties we were butting heads against the regulations that discouraged specialization. Who would have thought the alternative would make so many stations so bland?” His tone darkens. “Although I blame the networks more than anything else, truth be told.”

He’s got a bone to pick with networks.

Valera

Valera finally has a chance to speak? Good. "Well, I'm glad you two have so much to talk about! I'd say you should exchange numbers or find a way to talk in DMs, but I haven't had a chance to try and explain texting or tumblr blogs to Alexander yet." And she is NOT looking forward to it!

"Though, Alastor, if you'll indulge my hypotheticals while we tidy this fellow up. What do you think would be the best way to deal with his current state? I've thought about asking Pentious to make him some kind of automaton frame around his radio, or find a way to separate him from the radio entirely and... Force him to manifest some form of body."

Alexander shrugs, flipping a dismissive hand. "I've got no knowledge of the supernatural, and barely any on the normal natural either, so this is all Greek to me!"

Alastor

“I wonder if it would be possible to get a radio signal through to Hell! I’ve never picked up a radio broadcast from the living world before, but as far as I know none have been sent out by the dead. At any rate, if Internet can get between here and Hell, radio should be able to just as easily—it’s all the exact same stuff, just traveling through the air on different frequencies.”

Alastor considers the issue of Alexander’s body for a moment, glancing over at him. There’s a brief quiet humming noise like microphone feedback from the radio’s speakers as Alastor stretches out with his own energy field, prodding around Alexander’s, measuring it.

Then he snaps it back in and continues working. “Automatons are all well and good, but if you want to know how I’D do it—the easiest thing would be to get him trained up as a poltergeist! There’s three parts he’d have to learn: drawing more energy from his environment than he’s currently getting through passive processes; focusing it so he can telekinetically affect his environment; and finally, focusing it to visually and physically manifest a form for other people to see and touch. It’s essentially what I’m doing any time I step out of Hell, although I’m cheating: coming straight from Hell means I’m carrying enough Hellish energy with me that I don’t need to gather or focus any more, I’m fully solid from the outset. But it’s a skill that can be learned!”

He beams at Alexander. “You’re lucky you’ve got a focus for your energy, here! I’d hazard a guess that all this time you’ve been using what ambient energy you’ve picked up to help power it—but I bet it wouldn’t be too hard for you to use IT to help power YOU!”

This is all too exciting. The study of the interactions between spirits and electricity had only been going a few decades when Alastor died, and the topic is obviously irrelevant in Hell; what he’s proposing was supposedly possible even in his own time, but he can’t imagine what information might be available today.

Valera

Alexander twitches as Alastor's field brushes against his. It's an almost ticklish sensation, like almost but not quite touching something charged with static electricity. The moment passes, and he rubs at his arms. Could ghosts get goosebumps? It sure seemed so! Weird! Everyone he's met has been so strange and colorful, he'd hardly even thought about his own appearance. Immediately distracted, he starts looking for a mirror to check his hair in.

"Hm, I don't have any experience with poltergeists.." Valera's at a bit of a loss, narrowing her eyes as she squints at the two radios. Three radios? Does Alexander count as a separate entity from the radio? Gods, she should have taken the Mortals and Their Souls elective in school. She heaves a sigh. "Well! I hope you're willing to help teach him, Alastor, because otherwise I'm going to have to start doing _research_."

Alastor

“You and me both! Ha! Most of what I learned about poltergeists in life was how to get rid of them, imagine that. But! You know where ghosts end up once they’re got rid of! I’ll inquire around, see if there are any ex-poltergeists interested in sharing their tricks of the trade. If not, I’m sure the imps will know all about it.”

He beams at Alexander. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven’t had a reason to dip this deep into the occult since the sixties!”

Valera

"Oh that's marvelous. Thank the gods, the less I have to try and muddle through human focused occultism the better, it gets damnably frustrating trying to find books that aren't full of teenage angst and garbage." She sighs, taking her tea in hand and busying herself with draining the glass. That's ONE problem out of the way.

Alexander glances over, feeling eyes on him again, and offers Alastor his sunniest grin. He wasn't really following the conversation, but that doesn't matter when there's an obvious opening. "Don't leave us hanging, my good man! What happened in the sixties? Inquiring minds, and spirits, want to know!"

Alastor

“The first step is to get book recommendations from actual occultists.” Where is Valera picking up teenage angst?

Oh, Alastor is going to love this new guy, he follows up on the topics that Alastor leaves dangling. “A deep dive into angelology! Researching what sort of defenses Heaven has aside from being ridiculously high in the air—this was before rockets, you see, so we couldn’t just fly up and check—and trying to deduce any of the angels’ vulnerabilities.”

Valera

"Fair enough, I assume you knew a fair few back in your day?" Meet enough overly young heroes and some of them are going to write about their experiences while unfortunately being teens. Combination diary and field guides are the _worst._

Alexander BEAMS as Alastor speaks, the light on his radio dial glowing like a little beacon. "Fascinating stuff there, Alastor! I never even knew that was a field of research, shows what I know! Did you learn anything useful in your forays?" A pause. Wait. " You have rockets in Hell?"

Alastor

“A decent amount! I had a healthy circle of pen pals. None of them quite as successful as me, if I do say so myself—but that had less to do with their occult knowledge and more to do with their heads for business. All the symbols, herbs, and precious metals in the world won’t do you a lick of good if you don’t know how to make a deal with a demon.”

He’s gotten the inside about as clean as he feels safe to while the radio is still clearly *on*—there’s probably no way to fully turn it off as long as Alexander is connected to it, is there?—and starts on the outside. “In the living world, it probably isn’t one! Angelology in general, sure, but penetrating the gates of Heaven? Maybe in an ‘astral projection’ way, but certainly not a ‘breaking and entering’ way! I can’t say I picked up much of practical use, but...” He falters a moment before rallying. “The project I was researching it for fell through, so I abandoned it early with several research avenues unexplored.” Shrug.

For a moment he’s tempted to let Alexander think they DO have rockets. But then he bursts out laughing. “No, no, hah! I only meant that humanity in general has rockets, don’t we—and enough people with the know-how to make ‘em are in Hell by now. We *could* have rockets if we decided to. But we don’t have our act together enough for that—put together a list of everyone who could make it happen, and even the person at the very top of the list has priorities pointed very firmly elsewhere. Anyway, where would we go with them?”

Valera

"You can say that again. Though of course, my experience is decidedly _not_ from the mortal's side." A hum, and Valera leans in to take a peek at Alastor's work. "I knew you were the person for the job, that little darling is looking almost as good as new." A grin for his efforts, that's more than payment enough. That and getting to work on such a nice radio. Probably.

Alexander snickers, pressing a hand to his chest in mock dismay. "My goodness, you really had me going for a moment there, Alastor! I suppose there wouldn't really be anywhere to go, you're right! Though that does beg the question. How *does* Hell compare to all the biblical stories? I can't imagine it being all fire and brimstone if you're as well dressed and decidedly not prodded by pitchforks as you appear to be!"

Lowering her empty cup to the table, Valera flicks her eyes over to watch as Alexander quickly turns to try and pick up the teapot to offer a refill. Bless his dead little heart, he gave it a good shot even if all he managed was a slight rattling.

Alastor

Getting to work on such a nice radio is *absolutely* its own reward. “A professional could do something about the scuffs. And you definitely want somebody else to do something else about the last of the wax.” He rubs a thumb over the last little bumps stubbornly stuck on the wood. “I don’t think I can get the remains off without scuffing the wood.”

He tries to think back to what he was taught Hell was like before he saw the real thing. What had his first impressions been like? “Picture Dante’s Inferno. So you’ve got your rivers bile, your fields of icy mud, your endless hurricanes—but then dump a bunch of humans in it and assume they’re going to do what humans always do. We build cities and civilizations in scorching deserts, frozen tundras, and smothering jungles—and we do just the same in Hell. Sure enough, fire and brimstone is Hell’s natural, untrammeled state—but we’ve been trammeling all over the place for thousands of years by now! The native demons and fallen angels in charge are largely content to ease up on the pitchforks as long as our labors improve their standard of living, too.”

Alastor watches Alexander attempting to manipulate the teapot, then puts his hand on top of the radio and focuses on channeling as much of his own energy into the cathedral case as he can. “Try again now.”

Valera

"You can say that again. Though of course, my experience is decidedly _not_ from the mortal's side." A hum, and Valera leans in to take a peek at Alastor's work. "I knew you were the person for the job, that little darling is looking almost as good as new." A grin for his efforts, that's more than payment enough. That and getting to work on such a nice radio. Probably.

Alexander snickers, pressing a hand to his chest in mock dismay. "My goodness, you really had me going for a moment there, Alastor! I suppose there wouldn't really be anywhere to go, you're right! Though that does beg the question. How *does* Hell compare to all the biblical stories? I can't imagine it being all fire and brimstone if you're as well dressed and decidedly not prodded by pitchforks as you appear to be!"

Lowering her empty cup to the table, Valera flicks her eyes over to watch as Alexander quickly turns to try and pick up the teapot to offer a refill. Bless his dead little heart, he gave it a good shot even if all he managed was a slight rattling.

Alastor

Getting to work on such a nice radio is *absolutely* its own reward. “A professional could do something about the scuffs. And you definitely want somebody else to do something else about the last of the wax.” He rubs a thumb over the last little bumps stubbornly stuck on the wood. “I don’t think I can get the remains off without scuffing the wood.”

He tries to think back to what he was taught Hell was like before he saw the real thing. What had his first impressions been like? “Picture Dante’s Inferno. So you’ve got your rivers bile, your fields of icy mud, your endless hurricanes—but then dump a bunch of humans in it and assume they’re going to do what humans always do. We build cities and civilizations in scorching deserts, frozen tundras, and smothering jungles—and we do just the same in Hell. Sure enough, fire and brimstone is Hell’s natural, untrammeled state—but we’ve been trammeling all over the place for thousands of years by now! The native demons and fallen angels in charge are largely content to ease up on the pitchforks as long as our labors improve their standard of living, too.”

Alastor watches Alexander attempting to manipulate the teapot, then puts his hand on top of the radio and focuses on channeling as much of his own energy into the cathedral case as he can. “Try again now.”

Valera

"Fixing the wood? Not a problem. I just didn't trust anyone else with the internals!" She shrugs, seemingly content to lay back and idly listen as he explains the inevitable human nature of settling even the inhospitable lands of Hell. But the moment Alastor's powers are channeled, Valera stiffens, head swiveling to stare at where his hand at the radio meet as her fins flare out.

Alexander looks between Valera and Alastor, then down to his radio. You know what that reaction sounds like? None of his business! He nods, then carefully, carefully, picks up the teapot and pours a single cup of tea out with a look of utmost concentration. Once the teapot is safely back on the table and the cup is delivered into Valera's hands, and ONLY then, he shuffles back a few feet, looks around to make sure there's nothing breakable near him, and finally throws his arms in the air with a cheer. "Alastor! Whatever you did got me back on the trolley!"

Alastor

The motion catches Alastor's attention and he meets her gaze. Oh, hello? What's all *that* about?

But he doesn't get a chance to ask before Alexander is celebrating his triumph. Alastor switches his attention back to him, beaming. "Back on for the time being—although I'm afraid this trolley company makes you pay by the block and I essentially gave you one nickel. Still, it's proof of concept! You're powering your radio—and your radio can power you. This expands our options immensely!"

Valera

Scoffing while grinning ear to ear isn't something you see often, but Alexander is quick to wave off even minor pessimism with the cheeriest dismissal. "Bah, who cares about that! That's more interaction with my environment than I've managed since I died, I'll take this nickel as far as they'll let me." He pushes the teapot to the left, then the right, and then picks it up once more for good measure before moving to start carefully prodding at Valera, who tolerates it with the face of the family dog tolerating bratty kids yanking their fur.

Alastor

“I suppose five blocks is exciting if it’s the first time you’ve been allowed on the trolley,” he says dryly; then, while Alexander is distracted, he gives Valera an inquiring look. He’s not going to ask Valera about their reaction to his magic while Alexander is around, but he wants them to know he *noticed* and he’s *going* to as soon as he has a chance.

Valera

Valera looks at Alastor, giving him the most innocent stare they can manage with those big ole eyes... And then snorts, shakes their head, and gives a thumbs up. Yeah, yeah. Quiz them later, radio deerman.

Looking back to Alexander and his prodding hands, Valera finally hauls herself up to cheerfully clap her hands together. "Well! This has been lovely, but I think that's enough excitement for the day. We've both got new projects to get to, and the sooner we sort this fellow out the better!"

Alastor

“I think you’re right! Happy I could offer my assistance.” He offers a hand to Alexander. “And a pleasure to meet you, my good sir!”

Valera

Alexander pauses in his prodding to take Alastor's hand in both of his, giving it a firm shake. "I hope I'll see you again, Alastor! Even if we can't figure out how to help me, meeting a fellow radio enthusiast of your caliber is more than worth being stuck in an attic for so long!"

Alastor

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way!” And a firm shake back. “And even if not, I’ll be visiting from time to time anyway, never you fear.”

Valera

Val would ask if that was a threat or a promise, but she isn't really sure she wants to know. A portal is prepared in short order, one wall of the sitting room turning a familiar inky black as she rises from the couch. She does, however, make a point to look Alastor dead in the eyes as she speaks her goodbye. "I'll see you in Hell, Alastor."

Alastor

It’s only a threat if Valera finds his presence threatening.

“Imminently, or eventually?” He *does* still want to find out what that Look was about.

Valera

She grins, ignoring Alexander as he quietly oohs and aahs over the portal. "Eventually! I'll be there tonight or tomorrow, depending on wherever Penny decides to sleep, but who knows when you'll actually _see_ me there."

Alastor

“Well, track me down to talk when you can.” An unnecessarily dramatic half-bow and he steps through the portal.

Carefully. He doesn’t know what angle he’s going to emerge at.