#FLAT NIGHT CARNIVAL

[punkshort]

Hot Chocolate

Pairing: Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x f!reader

Summary: You lead a quiet, boring life in a podunk town, but when a certain secret agent stumbles into your world needing your help to catch a criminal at the local carnival, your quiet little life changes forever.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, canon-typical violence (fist fights, whips and lassos, of course), smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, sexual tension

WC: 6.5K

Written for @pedgito's Summer Lovin' challenge ❤️

Humidity clung to the air, and although the sun had long set, the heat hung heavy in the fairgrounds but that didn't keep the whole town from coming out to the carnival that night. You lived in a small town with not a lot to do but every year the same carnival came through and set up shop for two weeks, attracting people within an hour's drive, and every year since you were sixteen you worked there for some extra cash. Back when you were younger, your earnings tended to go towards the booze you brought to the parties in the middle of the woods, surrounded by the familiar faces of people you grew up with and their siblings. Now that you were in your twenties, that money was put toward rent and a car payment.

When you were sixteen, you had a very different idea of what your life would look like by now. Hell, you didn't even think you'd be living in this town, let alone working the same shitty waitress job at the same shitty restaurant while you tried and failed to come up with a better career path. Money was tight and the last thing you wanted to do was move back in with your parents, so you picked up extra jobs here and there. The carnival wasn't a bad gig. Pay was based on seniority and since you had worked there for so many years, the money was good and the jobs were mostly pretty fun, but it was only two weeks and you would be back to pinching pennies again.

But a week before the carnival was scheduled to arrive, a handsome man with dark hair, even darker cowboy hat and yellow aviators strolled into your restaurant with a cocky smirk and requested to sit in your section, and everything changed.

You had greeted him like any other table and subtly stole glances his way while he studied the menu, trying to figure out if you recognized him. No, you surely would remember him. Aside from his obvious good looks, he stuck out amongst the usual crowd. Dark grey, form fitting suit with a matching tie and cowboy boots? That... you definitely would have remembered.

He leaned back in the booth, one arm draped across the back of the worn cushion while his eyes slowly dragged down your frame. You glanced around nervously, suddenly feeling like you were being judged, then his eyes traveled back up and stopped on your name tag. He repeated your name out loud as if it were a question and finally looked into your eyes. His intensity sent a shiver down your spine but you nodded, confirming your name, and he smiled. It was a slow smile, one that began as a twitch in the corner of his mouth and tugged to one side, pulling his dark mustache with it until his lips spread so wide you could see his teeth. They were straight and he actually still had all of them. Yeah, he definitely wasn't from your hometown.

He didn't come back into the restaurant after that, but it wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

Two days later you made a pit stop by the Piggly Wiggly for some groceries. You made your way through the parking lot to your beat up car, stopping dead in your tracks when he came into view. He was leaning casually against your driver's side door, one ankle hooked over the other and still wearing that suit. Or maybe it was a different suit. You couldn't remember but what you did remember was the bead of sweat that trickled down from underneath his Stetson, leaving an enticing wet streak along the side of his head. He said your name and smiled, trying to disarm you, but you were still wary. He held up both palms flat as if to prove he wasn't dangerous but something told you his hands were just as threatening as any other weapon.

"Got a minute to talk, sugar?"

You glanced around the parking lot and swallowed, every natural instinct screaming at you to run back inside the store for help but instead you found yourself slowly walking towards him, as if being pulled by a magnet or some other enchanting force.

It was a bit of a blur after that. He flashed his badge, Jack Daniels, it read, with the word Statesmen being tossed around quite a bit while he explained what he did for a living, all of it sounding rather impressive but also confusing. Espionage. Spies. Undercover.

"What's all that got to do with me?" you had said. He smiled.

"Glad you asked."

Apparently he had been trying to track down a dangerous arms dealer for years. With some information Jack squeezed out of a low level guard, he discovered the arms dealer was able to be so successful because he traveled with the carnival to evade local and federal law enforcement. Always being on the move kept him under the radar, and now Jack had his sights set on taking him down when the carnival arrived in your town, but he needed help.

Jack needed someone who was on the inside, someone who earned years of trust by working for the same people and living in the same town, someone completely unsuspecting.

You.

At first, you said no, unwilling to put yourself at risk even though he promised he would be hiding in the shadows and would be in constant communication with you through an earpiece and camera. Then he offered up a few thousand dollars to sweeten the deal and your resolve crumbled. He promised you would be under government protection and your involvement would be minimal: you just needed to find the target and let Jack know which booth he was going to work. Plus, you really needed the money.

That was how you found yourself in the mid-afternoon before your shift started being suited up with impressive, high tech gear. Jack watched patiently from the corner of the trailer. For the first time, he wasn't wearing a suit. He elected to wear a pair of dark wash jeans and a white tshirt that clung to his broad chest but he was still sporting his signature cowboy hat. A beautiful woman named Ginger outfitted you with a nearly invisible earpiece and installed a microscopic camera in the button of your polo shirt. She assured you there was a tiny microphone in the camera and that Jack and the entire team assigned to the case would be watching and ready to jump into action if anything went sideways.

Simple enough, you thought.

"How're you holdin' up, darlin'?" Jack mumbled, pinching your elbow between his fingers as he led you out of the unsuspecting double wide that currently hid Ginger and all her expensive equipment and into his Bronco.

"Uh..." you began, throat suddenly feeling dry when he started the car and turned onto the familiar stretch of road. They had set up a base in the woods about two miles away from the carnival which meant you would be there in less than five minutes. Your head was spinning, the adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins and making you lightheaded. "Not so great, actually."

He turned his head and studied you for a moment before pulling off the road and throwing the car into park. He shifted in his seat so he could face you, one elbow resting on the back of his seat and the other on the steering wheel. "I ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you, you hear me?" You hadn't realized your breathing was becoming more labored and your face felt hot. He was probably just worried you were about to pass out and that's why he reached out to cup the back of your neck, forcing your attention off the carnival peeking through the trees and onto his face. Your gaze lingered on his dark brown eyes and chiseled jaw and hooked nose that looked like it would be perfect nestled between your thighs.

"You promise?" you whispered, tone a little more sultry than you intended. He swallowed and nodded.

"'Course. I'll be right there the whole time. All's you gotta do is tell me where he's gonna be and I'll do all the dirty work," he told you with a wink. Your eyes darkened a fraction, having a completely different idea of what kind of dirty work you'd like him to do before you blinked and snapped out of it. You chalked it up to your nerves but it was too late. He saw it in your eyes and he clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then to the camera in your shirt before slowly pulling his hand away from the back of your neck.

"What code word d'you wanna use in case you need help and can't say it?" he asked, shifting back into work mode and merging into traffic.

You thought it over for a moment, grateful for the distraction.

"Hot chocolate."

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yeah, I don't think it's something I would accidentally say because who the hell would order hot chocolate in this heat?"

He smiled wider. "Fair enough."

Jack dropped you off at the entrance of the carnival, reminding you he wouldn't be far behind and to stay alert. You bobbed and weaved your way through the crowded thoroughfare, the late afternoon sun beating down on the masses as they pushed wagons of children or carried various prizes under their arms while drinking cold lemonade or licking ice cream to combat the heat. You managed to get to the air conditioned office five minutes before your shift started and clocked in before examining the schedule. Jack had warned you the target wouldn't use his real name, so he made you study multiple photos of him the day before. Balding, but a dark horseshoe of hair curved around his head. He had a mustache, too, but not like Jack. The target's mustache was bushy and unkept, but Jack warned you that could have changed. He had a paunchy belly and he was approximately 5'10" but the most notable feature was a wide, pale scar that stretched from his right elbow to halfway down his forearm.

You glanced around the somewhat crowded office. Nobody seemed to fit that description so you focused on the schedule. You were set to work the lemonade stand. One of the more boring jobs, but at least you were with one of your good friends, Stephanie, who was working the candied apple stand next door.

"All good?" you heard Jack's gravelly voice echo through your earpiece. You had no idea how to answer that without looking like you were talking to yourself so you turned to a mirror and gave a quick thumbs up. He chuckled and you had to bite back a smile. "Alright, where are you workin' so I can get set up nearby?"

Again, you weren't sure how to answer but just then Stephanie breezed through the door. You called out her name and waved as she punched in and headed over to you, giving you a sweaty hug.

"We're working together tonight. You're on apples, I'm on lemonade next door," you told her, hearing Jack confirm your location in your ear.

"Awesome, should be a slow night after dinner," she replied, hooking her arm through yours and leading you back out into the busy dirt road lined with vendors and food carts.

As she predicted, you were rather occupied until the sun set and people began to indulge in fried dough and rides, leaving your little section of the fairgrounds quiet. For the first time in hours you glanced around, wondering if you could spot Jack, but he was no where to be found.

"So, did you meet any guys so far this summer?" Stephanie asked you, leaning over her counter and popping her gum loudly between her molars.

"Nah, not really," you replied, feeling the tips of your ears burn, knowing Jack was listening. "You?"

"Just one but he turned out to be an asshole," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "We gotta get out of this town, girl. I swear there's no one good left. I'm either related to them or already dated them and I can't stand any of 'em."

"Yeah, maybe one day," you replied, glancing around again.

"I'm serious. Maybe we oughta make a plan, y'know? Like we always said we would? Ain't you sick of waiting tables?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," you muttered. "But where would we go? We don't know anyone outside of here."

"I got a cousin up north, maybe we can visit her and see how we like it."

For a second you almost forgot the mission when, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a man matching the target's description disappear into the crowd. You squinted but you only saw the back of him and he was quickly getting away.

"Hey, can you cover for me?" you asked, already tossing your apron off and smoothing down your skirt.

"Yeah, sure. Been dead here for the past hour, take your time."

You hustled down the street, pushing people out of the way as you tried to catch up with the man you saw.

"Sugar, I lost ya, slow down," Jack's voice crackled in your ear.

"Can't, I think I saw him," you replied.

"Do not engage, y'hear me?" Jack said sternly. He sounded breathless now, no doubt rushing to catch up with you.

"I won't, I just wanna see where he's going."

You broke through the crowd and swiveled your head from side to side, desperately trying to spot the balding man. Now that you thought about it, he looked like he was wearing the same color uniform you had on. Your pulse raced as you turned around frantically, and just when you thought you lost him you spotted him walking up the steps to the house of mirrors. When he reached out to open the door, you saw the telltale scar and gasped.

"Jack! It's him!" you said, racing through the crowd again, dodging groups of children laughing and eating cotton candy.

"... stay... where are... losin' you-" you heard Jack's voice cutting in and out through your earpiece but the excitement got the best of you and you charged forward into the house of mirrors, the door slamming shut behind you, leaving you in a mostly darkened room. The only sounds you could hear were muffled conversations from families walking by.

"Jack?" you whispered, tapping on the earpiece and taking a few shaky steps forward. "Jack, if you can hear me, I'm in the house of mirrors. He's-"

"Looking for someone?" a man's deep voice said from over your shoulder, making you jump. You swiveled around and tried not to gasp in fear. It was him: Vic Leary, aka The Falcon. It was almost laughable how Jack had been chasing the man for years only to have him directly in front of you after a few hours. He took a menacing step forward and you swallowed tightly.

"Yeah, actually. I'm looking for my friend," you said, taking a small step backwards, a step deeper into the attraction.

"That right?" Vic sneered, taking yet another step closer. "Well I'm the only one here. Sure you ain't looking for me?"

You shook your head vehemently. "N-nope. I'm supposed to meet a friend here any minute, he's meeting me with some hot chocolate," you said the last part loudly and Vic frowned. Then he seemed to piece together that you were bugged or maybe he just saw his opportunity to strike because he lunged forward. Luckily, you were prepared and stumbled backwards out of reach, causing him to fall forward on his hands and knees. You spun around and raced through the dizzying hall of mirrors, Vic's angry curses and threats shouting after you.

The next tunnel had a wall of mirrors that shifted, causing you to feel like the floor was moving. You stretched your arms out and blinked rapidly, stumbling through and glancing over your shoulder in a panic, wondering where he went. It was quiet. His yelling stopped. Did Jack find him?

The next room was a literal maze, the walls and ceilings covered in mirrors, some curved and warped, some jagged and angular. You couldn't think of a worse place to hide and you needed to get the hell out of there.

"Can anyone hear me?" you whispered into your polo shirt, wincing when all you heard was sharp feedback in your ear. You turned a corner, jumping when you saw movement but calmed down when you realized it was your own reflection six times over. You heaved a sigh of relief and took another look around, trying to decide where to go next when a big, sweaty body jumped out from behind a mirror in front of you, tackling you to the ground. You screamed bloody murder and tried to squirm away, but he had you pinned to the ground with a hand around your throat. You scratched and kicked and yelled but it was no use. His fingers gripped the side of your throat and he watched with a sick smile as you struggled to drag in air, all the while clawing at the backs of his hands so hard, you drew blood. And just when you thought you might pass out, a black cowboy boot swung from behind your head and kicked Vic directly across the jaw, making him yelp in pain and fall backwards.

You coughed and scrambled away, clutching your throat and looking up to find Jack, his shoulders and chest heaving and his eyebrows pinched together in fury. Without taking his eyes off Vic, who was cupping his mouth, his hand collecting blood, he asked, "you alright, sugar?"

You could only nod and he told you to wait for him outside, but when you stood and took a few steps back the way you came, you saw Vic stand up and run in the opposite direction, nimbly dodging the mirrors, too familiar with the maze to be slowed down. Nostrils flared, Jack reached for his belt and grabbed a braided piece of leather. His thumb pressed down on a small button and like magic, the rest of the whip unfurled at his side. He then spun it over his head twice before snapping it forward, circling around the target's neck and yanking him back to the ground with a grunt.

Jack disappeared deeper into the maze, his grip tight. You looked over your shoulder, back to the entrance, then groaned and followed Jack. When you rounded the corner, he was towering over the suspect, whip back on his belt, Vic looking like he was knocked out cold. You peered around the last mirror, hiding from view while Jack pressed something on his watch and began to speak to a small hologram of an older looking man with a beard. He was telling him that the suspect was in custody and needed backup while he dug out a pair of metal handcuffs with his free hand.

Jack was distracted and didn't realize Vic had begun to move, but you did. When Jack's back was turned, Vic quietly rose to his feet and pulled out a knife from the back of his pants. He raised his arm above his head, ready to plunge the blade into Jack's throat. You raced forward and swung your leg out, hitting the backs of his knees with your shin and bringing him back down to the ground with a thud before he had a chance to inflict any harm.

Swirling around, Jack ended the call without warning and punched Vic directly in the nose. You heard a sickening crunch of bone and a howl of pain from the man's throat, but just as Jack was about to grab his arms and haul him to his feet, Vic rolled to the side and jumped up with a surprising amount of agility. Jack groaned and reached behind him, pulling out what appeared to be a lasso. He calmly glared after Vic, who was nearly to the exit, while circling the rope above his head. The lasso began to glow an icy blue, mesmerizing you for a moment until he snapped it down with an electric crack, wrapping and pinching the rope around Vic's lower leg.

You couldn't believe your eyes when his leg cleanly and completely severed below the knee. Slapping both palms over your mouth to muffle your screams, you curled up on the floor and watched as Jack approached Vic, who was making noises so pained and fearful that you were certain you would hear them in your nightmares for the rest of your life.

Jack was handcuffing him and warning him he shouldn't have run while the man sobbed pathetically in a pool of his own blood. You just stared, your whole body trembling at the carnage, completely numb. You didn't even hear when three other agents breezed past you to collect the target, followed shortly thereafter by a small cleaning crew wearing protective gear from head to toe. Suddenly the maze, which seemed so massive before, was cramped and making you feel claustrophobic.

His eyes finally met yours once Vic was officially in custody. His expression went from one of relief to one of deep concern when he saw the state you were in and he rushed forward to collect you off the floor.

"Hey, don't look at that," he murmured, but your gaze was still pinned on the blood staining the floor. "Eyes on me, darlin'."

You forced your eyes away from the mess and onto him, like he requested, but you were finding it difficult to breathe. Each inhale was a struggle, like your lungs couldn't expand all the way, and each exhale left your ears ringing.

"Get me out of here, Jack."

He nodded once and helped you stand. With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he ushered you back through the maze towards the entrance. Once you were able to take in a deep breath of fresh, humid air, you started to feel a little better but the adrenaline was still coursing through your body, making you feel like you were practically vibrating.

People streamed past you laughing and joking, blissfully unaware of what just happened while you sat on a nearby bench with your head between your legs. Jack soothingly rubbed your upper back and waited for you to calm down. Your energy was too intense, the vivid images of what you just witnessed too strong and Jack seemed to sense it.

"Here," he said, leaning back and lifting his hips from the bench. Your eyes instantly locked onto his lap, where his fingers began to remove a small flask from his belt buckle. When he handed it to you, hoping the alcohol would help calm your nerves, you just continued to stare, all wild eyed and rabid.

"Have a little, it'll help," he urged while trying to ignore the hungry look in your eye. You blinked slowly and, with shaky fingers, took the flask and unscrewed the top. You winced a little at the burn but a minute later, your stomach felt warm and your muscles relaxed. You handed it back to him and he took a sip himself without breaking eye contact with you, then fastened it back onto his belt. You leaned forward, once again feeling inexplicably drawn to him, and brushed your fingertips lightly over the flask. You were playing with fire and you knew it. His eyes bore into yours with a blazing heat and he whispered, "you need somethin' stronger, sugar?"

You sunk your teeth into your lower lip and nodded. He stood up and grabbed your hand, glancing around the fairgrounds manically, the adrenaline from the past twenty minutes getting the best of both of you, it seemed.

The choices were limited and the closest area with any semblance of privacy was the bathroom and you both seemed disgusted by that prospect because he muttered fuck it under his breath and dragged you off the main road towards the dark parking lot.

Once he reached his Bronco, he twisted around and violently yanked at the buttons on your polo shirt. You yelped in surprise but when he opened his hand and showed you the button he tore off with the camera attached, you nodded. He flung it into the mud and dropped his earpiece, then you scrambled to do the same. Once you were as alone as you possibly could be, he pinned you against the side of his truck and pinched your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to look at him.

"You sure?" was all he asked, pupils blown wide.

You nodded. "Please."

He groaned and crashed his mouth against yours, dropping his hand from your jaw to wrap around the back of your neck. He tasted like Jameson and you imagined you did, too. "Such a polite little thing," he whispered before plunging his tongue inside your mouth and licking past your teeth. You were moments away from unzipping his jeans and letting him take you right then and there when you heard a chorus of laughter from the next row of cars and you pulled away, gasping for air. Jack appeared just as wrecked as you felt, eyes all wild and skin hot with arousal.

"C'mon," he said, as if reading your mind he tugged you away from the car so he could open the door to the backseat. You practically launched yourself inside and by the time you spun around he was slamming the door shut behind him. He gazed at you for just a moment before shedding his cowboy hat and pressing your body into the seat, picking up where he left off. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of leather and gunpowder and his cologne, all ingrained in the fabric after years under his care.

His lips traveled down, grazing against your jaw and nipping at the spot behind your ear. His mustache tickled your skin, making you giggle, and you felt him smile against your throat at the sound. His lips latched onto your neck, sucking a bruise there while your hands dipped underneath the hem of his white tshirt. The fabric bunched up around your wrists the higher your fingers traveled up his torso, reveling in the way the muscles in his back twitched under your touch. Then his hips dropped against yours, resting his weight heavy between your legs, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

"Jack?" you whispered hoarsely.

"Mhm?"

"I-I want you," you stammered when his thumbs brushed over your breasts, nipples hardening through your shirt. "Want you so bad."

"You got me, sweetheart. I'm all yours," he mumbled, teeth scraping gently over your collarbone as he continued to move achingly slow further and further down your body.

You moaned and arched your back, pressing your chest into him. "Jack, I want you now," you tried again, and he clicked his tongue with a smirk.

"Where'd those manners run off to?"

"Please," you groaned. He hoisted himself up, holding his weight above you, the palms of his hands pressing into the seat on either side of your ribs.

"Say it again f'me, sugar. Y'just sound so pretty when you're beggin' for it."

"Please," you whispered this time, then dragged your hand down his stomach, stopping to cup his erection through the thick denim of his jeans. You rubbed the palm of your hand up and down enticingly, drawing a quiet moan from his throat. He hissed and pressed himself into your hand, rocking his hips and watching your fingers work him up and down. "Please, Jack, I need you."

His eyes flashed up to yours once before he sat back on his heels, fumbling with the tiny flask on his belt with an urgency that told you he heard exactly what he wanted to hear. He tossed both items on the floor before undoing his jeans and then, seeming to remember you were still fully clothed, dragged his hands up your thighs and under your skirt. His palms cupped your ass and squeezed before hooking his fingers around the edge of your panties and tugging them down. You lifted your hips to help, feeling slightly disappointed there wouldn't be enough room or time for either of you to fully undress, but you would make do.

"Goddamn, that's a pretty sight," he groaned when he pushed your skirt up enough to get a good look between your legs. He ran the pad of his thumb through your slit and you began to squirm impatiently. "Now, normally I'd prefer to take my time," he began, and your heart thundered wildly in your chest when he pushed his jeans down and pulled out his cock, hard and leaking. "But it would appear we don't have the luxury today, darlin'." He used one hand to steady your hip and the other to line himself up with your entrance, then you held your breath when he started to press forward, parting your walls and forcing you to stretch around his girth.

"Shit," you whined, tipping your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, that's it," he whispered, watching as he slowly disappeared inside you, only looking back to your face once he was buried to the hilt. "How's that? Feelin' better now?" he asked a little breathlessly. You nodded and forced your eyes to open.

"Feels good," you murmured, licking your dry lips and gasping when he began to move. "Yeah, just like that, faster - please faster," you added hastily when you remembered his comment earlier about manners. The corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk before falling forward onto his elbows. He tugged one of your knees up so you hooked your leg around his waist, spreading your hips wide before feverishly latching his mouth onto yours, muffling your noises when he began to snap his hips faster and deeper.

"This what you needed?" he whispered in your ear. You tightened your arms around his neck, holding him close, the desire suddenly overwhelming to have him completely consume you and keep you in the safety of his arms. "Needed me to fuck you and turn that little brain of yours off for a while? Hm?"

"Yes," you admitted shamelessly. He was fucking everywhere. His mouth was drifting from your lips to your neck to your ear, his hands groping and gliding along your stomach or legs, his cock sliding smoothly in and out, each time catching on that one spot that made you see stars. Even his body heat felt like it was fully encompassing you. And he was right: it was exactly what you needed.

"Christ, too fuckin' good, sweetheart," he breathed, his hips stuttering for a moment before resuming a punishing pace. The way his lips melted against your own while the tip of his cock reached a depth inside you didn't know was possible was making your vision blur and your breath ragged. You were so caught up in the moment that you hadn't yet considered you wouldn't see him again after that night. Nor did you have a chance to realize how long you had been gone from the lemonade stand. Nothing else outside of his car mattered.

"Jack," you whimpered as heat began to lick and wrap around your spine. Your stomach tightened and your mouth was wide open, pulling in mouthfuls of air as quickly as you could. You were so close but you just needed a little more. He was busy pushing your polo shirt up and yanking down your bra, his hot tongue swiping greedily over your nipples one at a time with an appreciative groan before he sunk his teeth into your soft flesh, no doubt trying to leave a mark to remember him by.

"Love the way you say my name, darlin'. Music to my ears."

As if he could read your mind, his had slipped between your bodies and began to thumb at your clit. Your thighs tensed and you cried out, his name the only word your brain was able to conjure up, which, based on his enthusiastic reaction, pleased him greatly. You couldn't stop yourself. Your body began to meet him, thrust for thrust, your hips rolling, matching his rhythm and forcing his thumb to apply more pressure. Before you even had a chance to warn him your orgasm crashed down around you, so powerful and intense that it sent you reeling, his name and a string of unintelligible curses the only thing falling from your lips. And he fucking loved it.

"Oh, look at you," he groaned, "pretty little thing, all fucked out. Goddamn, you're gonna make me come, darlin'." His large hand splayed across your ribs and he stared, slack jawed, at the way your tits bounced from the force of his thrusts. "Shit, shit, shit," he grumbled, his jaw locking as he closed in on his release. "Where, sugar?"

"Inside," you moaned, trying to force your eyes to stay open so you could watch. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and dragged his eyes back up to your face.

"Don't say that."

"Please," you whispered, and you could see his resolve crumbling.

"Fuck," he groaned, then he shifted so he could grab onto your hips with both hands. It didn't take much longer, but each thrust after that was harsh and unforgiving until his body stilled and he came with a broken moan that you made sure to commit to memory. He panted for air and tilted his head back when he was done, his fingers still gripping your waist. An incoming call came through, lighting up the face of his high-tech watch, but he ignored it. Once he caught his breath and he began to soften inside you, he rolled his head forward, gazing down at you in admiration. "You're somethin' else," he rasped, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smirk.

"You sound surprised," you teased.

"I am, but not because of this," he said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against your lips. He slid out of you with a grunt and you sharply sucked in air at the loss. His dark eyes lingered a moment on his spend dripping out of you before gently fixing your bra and top. The sweet gesture made you smile.

"What, then?"

He grinned and tucked himself back in his jeans, then handed you your panties. "You saved my hide back there, brave girl," he murmured, pinching your chin affectionately. "Kickin' his legs out like that. Didn't know you had it in you."

You shrugged and tugged your underwear back on. "I didn't really think about it, he was going to stab you, I had to do something."

He hummed and leaned back in the seat, watching as you fixed your skirt and tried to tame your hair in the mirror before spotting his discarded cowboy hat on the floor. You grinned and picked it up, plopping it onto your head with a giggle. "How do I look?"

"Fuckin' beautiful," he said, making you laugh, "although you're doin' things a little backwards, sugar."

"What do you mean?" you asked, taking it off to see if you put it on wrong. He smiled and gently took the hat from your fingers and put it back on your head.

"The rule is, you wear a man's Stetson, you gotta ride the cowboy, but seein' as we did that already..." he trailed off and you giggled again when you finally understood. "But I suppose it depends on who you ask. Could mean somethin' else, too."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Some say if the cowboy lets the lady wear his hat then he's interested in seein' her again," he said softly, watching as you became flustered at the suggestion.

"Oh," you breathed, feeling your skin heat up under his gaze. Reality slowly began to seep in. Now that Jack found his man, he would go back to wherever he came from and your boring life would go back to normal. But then he hooked a finger under your chin so you would focus back on him.

"Would you like that?"

"Would I ... yeah, of course, but-"

"I heard what you were sayin' to your friend. 'Bout wantin' to move?" he said, dropping his hand and shifting his weight. "What if we had a spot for you at the agency? Maybe doin' somethin' with Ginger, learn the ropes a bit? I think you got potential, sweetheart."

You laughed and shook your head. "I can't do what you guys do, are you serious?"

"You got guts. We can teach anyone how to use a weapon, but guts? That can't be taught."

When it became apparent he wasn't joking, you cleared your throat and glanced out the window. "I don't know..."

"You said yourself you're sick of waitin' tables," he reminded you, then pulled out a white business card and handed it to you. "I know it's a big decision. Think it over and gimme a call." He paused for a moment and a slow smile spread across his face. "But how 'bout you gimme a call either way?"

"Okay," you practically whispered, looking down at the card before shoving it safely in your pocket. He pushed open the door and slid down to the ground, then turned around and held out a hand for you.

You spent the rest of your night thinking over Jack's offer, replaying over and over in your mind everything you learned about the Statesmen in the past week and trying to imagine if that was something you could possibly do. You had pretty much decided it was a stupid idea, that it was dangerous and things like that didn't happen to girls like you, but when you punched in for your shift at the restaurant on Monday and looked around the dining room at the same patrons eating the same food they always did, listening to the same boring gossip and worrying about the same bills that always plagued you, something finally snapped. You tore off your apron and tossed it behind the computer before snatching your purse and walking out the front door without a second glance behind you.

You got into your beat up car and breathlessly dialed the number you had been staring at all weekend, your heart slamming in your chest excitedly. When Jack's familiar drawl answered on the other end, a huge smile spread across your face.

"That offer still stand, cowboy?"

[goryhorroor]

What are some underrated horror films? I have watched all the popular ones and need more! Thanks!

mentally prepare yourself because im ready to give a gumbo list (this has been sitting in my inbox because i had to ask all my friends and this is the list we came up with):

curse of the demon (1957) the serpent and the rainbow (1988) paranoiac (1963) the old dark house (1932) countess dracula (1971) golem (1920) haxan (1968) island of lost souls (1932) mad love (1935) mill of the stone women (1960) the walking dead (1936) the ghoul (1933) tourist trap (1979) the seventh victim (1943) ganja & hess (1973) dead of night (1945) a bay of blood (1971) let's scare jessica to death (1971) alice sweet alice (1976) the deadly spawn (1983) the brain that wouldn't die (1962) all about evil (2010) black roses (1988) the baby (1973) parents (1989) a blade in the dark (1983) blood lake (1987) solo survivor (1984) lemora: a child's tale of supernatural (1973) eyes of fire (1983) epitaph (2007) nightmare city (1980) slugs (1988) death smiles on a murderer (1973) intruder (1989) short night of glass dolls (1971) the children (2008) alone in the dark (1982) end of the line (2007) the queen of spades (1949) the housemaid (1960) tormented (1960) captain clegg (1962) the long hair of death (1964) dark age (1987) the crawling eye (1958) the kindred (1987) the gorgon (1964) wicked city (1987) baba yaga (1973) 976-evil (1988) bliss (2019) decoder (1984) amer (2009) the visitor (1979) day of the animals (1977) leptirica (1973) planet of the vampires (1965) lips of blood (1975) berberian sound studio (2012) a wounded fawn (2022) matango (1963) the mansion of madness (1973) the killing kind (1973) symptoms (1974) morgiana (1972) whispering corridors (1998) dead end (2003) infested (2023) (this just came out but im adding it) triangle (2009) the premonition (1976) you'll like my mother (1972) the mafu cage (1978) white of the eye (1987) mister designer (1987) alison's birthday (1981) the suckling (1990) graveyard shift (1987) messiah of evil (1987) out of the dark (1988) seven footprints to satan (1929) burn witch burn (1962) the damned (1962) pin (1988) horrors of malformed men (1969) mr vampire (1985) the vampire doll (1970) contracted (2013) impetigore (2019) eyeball (1975) malatestas carnival of blood (1973) the witch who came from the sea (1976) i drink your blood (1970) nothing underneath (1985) sauna (2008) seance (2000) come true (2020) the last winter (2006) night tide (1961) the brain (1988) dementia (1955) don't go to sleep (1982) otogirisou (2001) reincarnation (2005) mutant (1984) spookies (1986) shock waves (1977) bloody hell (2020) the den (2013) wer (2013) olivia (1983) enigma (1987) graverobbers (1988) manhattan baby (1982) evil in the woods (1986) death bed: the bed that eats (1977) cathy's curse (1977) creatures from the abyss (1994) the dorm that dripped blood (1982) the witching (1993) madman (1981) vampire's embrace (1991) blood beat (1983) the alien factor (1978) savage weekend (1979) blood sisters (1987) deadly love (1987) playroom (1990) die screaming marianne (1971) pledge night (1990) night train to terror (1985) the devonsville terror (1983) ghostkeeper (1981) special effects (1984) blood feast (163) the child (1977) godmonster of indian flats (1973) blood rage (1980) the unborn (1991) screamtime (1983) the outing (1987) the being (1983) silent madness (1984) lurkers (1988) forver evil (1987) squirm (1976) death screams (1982) jack-o (1995) haunts (1976) a night to dismember (1983) creaturealm: demons wake (1998) the curse (1987) daddy's deadly darling (1973) nightwing (1979) the laughing dead (1989) the severed arm (1973) the orphan (1979) not like us (1995) prime evil (1988) the monstrosity (1987) dark ride (2006) antibirth (2016) iced (1988) the soultangler (1987) twisted nightmare (1987) puffball (2007) biohazard (1985) cameron's closet (1988) beast from haunted cave (1959) the she-creature (1956)

[foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland]

piece based on the idea that Dakota might've started learning guitar to play along with Ashe's drums ^_^ Ambigiously timed but was originally gonna be post s2 (tho their designs here look more s1)

Extras under the cut, as usual :3 AND a VERY detailed ID since this piece is a big one

Detailed ID: a drawing of Dakota Cole and Ashe Winters from Just Roll With It: Prime Defenders, sitting in Ashe’s dorm room.

Ashe is sitting on the bed, with one arm behind her head and the other rested on her stomach, while Dakota is lying on his back on the floor holding an electric guitar, legs kicked up on the bed next to Ashe.

Ashe has white skin, long curly white hair, a few freckles, and is looking down at Dakota with an open mouthed smile. She is wearing a dark purple beanie with pins of Madeline from Celeste, the Welcome to Nightvale logo, and the knight from Hollow Knight partially covered by her hair.

She is also wearing a shirt with the album cover of I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning by Bright Eyes. Over the shirt is Dakota's red flannel. She's wearing black jeans, one black and green sock, and one purple and black sock with cat ears at the top and cat paws at the toes.

Dakota has mid-brown skin with a few moles, and medium lengthed, curly, bright red hair thats splayed out across the floor. his eyes are shut tight and his eyebrows are furrowed, whilst hes smiling widely.

He has a black bandana around his forehead. On his neck is a chain, and attached to that is a purple heart with the letter 'A' on it. He's wearing a white tank top, that exposes his shoulder which features a temporary Ms G tattoo of her face accompanied with the words 'Ms G' in a galaxy pattern.

Dakota's wearing beige shorts, and has another temporary tattoo on his thigh which reads 'Teaching Moment' in galaxy text. his socks are white.

The blue and white electric guitar he's holding has a sticker that says 'Prime defenders' in black and white, and another sticker that says 'Just Roll With It' in gold and purple. At the top of the guitar near the tuning pegs, it reads 'Prime'.

They are in Ashe's dorm room. Her bed has a blue mattress and a green blanket that's pushed against the pillow away from Ashe, and draping off the side of the bed onto the floor. On the part of the blanket that's on the bed, there is a plush of Morgana from Persona 5, and another plush of Bacon Man. On the part of the blanket that's on the floor, there is a Nintendo DS, except with the word 'Primtendo' written on it. On the side of the bed there are 3 stickers; one of Hatsune Miku, one of Mae Borowski from Night In The Woods, and one of Tony's Pizza.

On the purple carpeted floor underneath the bed, theres a cardboard box labelled 'Secrets'. There is also an oval rug that Dakota is lying on that has a green, yellow, blue, and red circular design. ontop of this is a pair of headphones with the wire spiralling across the floor, and an amp that Dakota's guitar is plugged into. the front of the amp has the word Prime where the brand name of an amp would be usually

Next to Ashe's bed is a set of shelves. On the flat side facing the bed, there is a My Chemical Romance poster of the album cover of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. Under this poster are 3 photos, of Ashe and Dakota ice skating, Ashe and William walking on traintracks, and Ashe and William taking a selfie in bed. Next to these three photos are two school schedules, labelled 'Ashe Winters' Schedule' and 'Vyncent Sol's Schedule'.

On the shelves, the top shelf has a lit candle next to a box of matches. Next to these are 4 books titled 'The Carnival Of Souls', 'Planetary Problems', 'The Purps' and 'Overlord'. The shelf below this has a plant with small white flowers, in a ceramic pot with a blue heart, a red heart, and a purple heart on it. Next to this is a bottle of ibuprofen, and a turned on purple lava lamp. Behind these are more books titled 'The New Generation', 'Island Of Amal- [cut off]', 'Ultraviolent Light', '[cut off] -Don't R- [cut off],' and 'Good Cop, Ghos- [cut off]'

Underneath that shelf is an open drawer with two fairylight chains trailing out. One is in RGB colours and the other is golden. On the closed drawer below that, there is a Welcome to Nightvale sticker.

On the white wall behind Ashe, there is a window to her left. outside the light is golden, and there is a street. Behind Ashe's head is a Thank You Scientist poster of the album Maps Of Non-Existent Places, a Car Seat Headrest poster of the album Twin Fantasy, and a trans flag. There are also messages in smudged ink reading: '[cut off] -ncent was here !!!', 'Ashe. W [cut off] -s here :3', 'DC wus here <3', 'wiwi waz here [ghost doodle]' and 'love u man'

End ID.

[likegoldintheair]

bUMMY (lmao) + "im a bit of a roof enthusiast myself"

"You know, I'm a bit of a roof enthusiast myself."

Buck can't see Tommy from where they're laying side by side on the, thankfully, flat rooftop, but he can definitely hear him huff out a laugh. It's a sound that turns Buck's insides to a fucking carnival, each and every time. He smiles up at the night sky, tries to make out a few constellations, but gives up almost immediately. He rolls his head to the side instead and finds Tommy already looking back at him.

"Roof enthusiast, huh?" Tommy asks, raising his eyebrows a little. "Is that what they call it these days?"

"Hmm," Buck squints back, trying not to smile, "what did they call it in your days, then?"

"Exhibitionist?" Tommy suggests, one hand sneaking its way to touch the outside of Buck's naked thigh. "Member of the let's fuck outside it'll be fun club?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Buck says cheerfully.

"Yeah, yeah," Tommy says, rolling his eyes. His hand is still resting next to Buck's thigh, fingertips brushing against the skin there. "You know what you did."

"Hey!" Buck rolls over to his side then, poking Tommy in the middle of his chest. He tries to school his features into something that could be taken as serious or stern, but he thinks he fails miserably. He can't stop fucking smiling. "You were a willing participant."

"I was," Tommy hums, his hand moving up to cover Buck's where it rests above Tommy's heart.

"And it was fun."

"It was." Tommy agrees easily, his thumb brushing back and forth over the back of Buck's hand. Then he sighs. "Until you remembered that the door won't open from the outside, and now we're stuck here waiting for a locksmith to save us."

"Minor miscalculation on my part, I'll admit that." Buck says, moving in a little bit closer and pressing his cold nose into the crook of Tommy's neck. "No one else I'd want to be stuck on a roof with, though."

"Yeah," Tommy whispers, "me neither."

[obsolescent]

The Necessity of Saints - Part Two

Part One

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x SingleMom!Reader

Author's Notes: Um. I went in LMFAO. I literally had to cut myself off from writing anymore for this. I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, P in V sex, multiple orgasms, protected sex, fingering, squirting, nipple play, cumming from nipple play, Simon is a gentle lover and always aiming to please, reader is touched-starved.

Word Count: 3,241

You let Simon know your availability, agreeing on a time–a date–something you haven’t been on in years. You’re filled with excitement, giddy at the prospect of dressing up and going out with someone, thinking of what all you two could do. Dinner, of course, maybe a movie? Oh! Maybe that carnival that’s in town for the week. You laugh to yourself, so many possibilities. So much anticipation bubbling, it has spilled over into your interactions with everyone around you.

“You’re chipper than usual, have anything going on?” A coworker asks. “Mama, you’re literally glowing, it’s so cute,” Your daughter says with a giggle, delighted to see you with a pep in your step this whole week. Friday night arrives, your excitement now mingling with nervousness. ‘Need something to wear, should I dress casually or should I be bold? Something slutty? Ugh, I don’t think I even have those types of clothes anymore.’ You don’t, you really don’t have much except for comfortable clothing now, some flowy dresses and skirts, and flats and sandals.

You pick out your fanciest dress. A long sleeved, empire cut, burnt orange dress with a sweetheart neckline. The length reaches mid calf, and you pair it with some comfortable, strappy flats. You fix your hair and makeup, looking sophisticated yet casual. ‘Probably the best for a first date.’ You and Simon spoke some more in regards to plans for that night, settling on a restaurant downtown to begin with. You agreed to meet there, not wanting him to know where you live just yet.

Your hands are sweaty as hell. You continue to wipe them off, pacing the living room while the time gets closer for you to leave. “O-M-G mama, relax! It’ll be fine. Just take some deep breaths and sit down,” Rhea says, having watched your anxious movements for the past ten minutes. “Ugh, I just…Don’t know what to do with myself,” You say, finding your way to sit next to her. She pats your shoulder, “Are you worried he won’t like the way you look? You look great, mama, I think he would think you’re pretty even if you showed up in a trash bag.” You guffaw, grinning at your daughter. She is a light in your life that you’re so glad to have, thankful for her reassuring words.

The clock reads 6:45 PM, fifteen minutes before your arranged time. “Reckon I better get going,” You let out a shaky breath, standing up and grabbing your purse. “Have a good time and have fun, love ya and be careful!” Rhea shouts from the couch as you’re opening the front door, “Love you, too!” You shout back, closing and locking the door. You get inside your car, backing out of the driveway and heading to the restaurant.

You arrive with five minutes to spare, giving yourself a pep talk. “If he doesn't like you, he can stick it! Go off on your own and treat yourself,” You say out loud, looking at your reflection in the visor’s mirror, making last minute adjustments to your look. You cut the engine and step out, locking the doors. Walking towards the entrance, you notice Simon standing off to the side, a bouquet in his hands, the other in his pocket. You’re internally screaming, face turning red at just seeing him with the flowers, in a black button up with matching slacks. 

He notices you approaching, giving you a smile, “Hello, love. Glad I didn’t scare you off,” He greets you, handing the bouquet over. A bushel of ranunculus, all varieties of color. “Thank you so much, these are beautiful,” You inhale their scent. “Could say the same about you, you look wonderful,” He says, his gaze following the contours of your body. You give a meek ‘thank you’ blush reaching the tips of your ears. “Shall we?” He asks, extending his arm for you to take. You nod, grabbing onto it, feeling him flex his muscles. ‘Good Lord he’s ripped.’ You both head inside, where the host seats you at a table in the corner, Simon taking the seat that faces out into the restaurant.

Light conversation begins, learning about one another. You find out that Simon is retired from the British military, which prompts you to ask why he’s here, of all places. “I like the liquor,” He says, causing you to laugh. Conversation carries on into dinner, your nerves far away from your thoughts, the wine Simon ordered helping to ease them. You’re honestly happy to have Simon’s company. He insists on paying for your meal, you opposing the whole time. ‘Let him treat you, he seems to really like doing it,’ The thought swimming through your mind. You bite your tongue, smiling and giving your thanks.

After the bill is paid, he escorts you out, once more offering his arm to you, which you gladly hang on to this time. You walk out into the crisp night air, feeling light and full of happiness. “Anything else you’re up for?” He asks, glancing down at you. You mention what you had been thinking about earlier, about the visiting carnival or a movie. He chuckles at your suggestions, “A movie sounds nice, yeah?” You nod, him leading you to his car. A sleek, black, Chevrolet Silverado is what he brings you to. Looking at it in astonishment, big and hefty. ‘Just like him.’ 

He helps you practically climb into the passenger side, settling in and buckling your seatbelt. He joins you on the other side, turning the ignition on and pausing, seeming almost nervous about what he’s going to say next. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be opposed to watching a movie at my flat?” He asks, shifting in his seat, using your wording from your first proposition. “No, no at all opposed,” You respond, replying with his past sentence. He looks over with a grin, “Alright, love,” Is said before he pulls out of the parking spot, in the direction of his apartment.

He gives his thanks, sitting down beside you. He picks up the remote and turns on his television, scrolling through the selections. You had mentioned liking the horror genre earlier, him also in agreement. He seemed to be checking out the movies in that category, noticing one you had been meaning to watch, but hadn’t gotten around to it. You express your interest in that film, before he selects it.

The movie begins, you settling against the cushions to immerse. Simon shifts a bit closer to you, before putting his arm on the back of the couch, the warmth radiating from him. You give a slight shiver, haven’t been this close to someone other than your daughter in a long time. He notices, grabbing a throw blanket near the end of the couch before draping it across your form. You turn red, not having the guts to tell him the real reason why you shivered. 

As the movie progresses, you steal glances at his profile. Blond hair effortlessly tousled, stubble adding a rugged look to him, his pronounced nose slightly crooked, likely due to it being broken before. He’s quite the looker, with a great personality to match. He looks over at you, catching you staring. Your gazes lock, looking deeply into his honeyed eyes. He smiles, before clearing his throat. “Would you like some bourbon?” You weren’t expecting that, but agree, him rising from his seat and making his way to a liquor cabinet, pouring you both a glass.

He hands you yours, taking a cautious sip. It goes down smoothly, warming your throat. You hum, thanking him, while he settles back into place. Immersing yourself once more, you don’t realize how much you’ve drank until the glass is empty. You set it down on the coffee table, the warmth now spreading throughout your body. He sets his down besides yours, having finished his own. His arm brushes your own as he sits back. You contemplate on asking him to cuddle, worrying your bottom lip. ‘It’s just cuddling,’ you think, inhaling through your nose, taking a deep breath. “Could we, uh, cuddle?” You ask, grimacing at how unsure it sounds. He raises an eyebrow, “Is that what you really want, love?” Your body buzzes at the pet name, but you squish it down, nodding your head. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

Your body ignites at the sensation, nerve endings buzzing at his grip. ‘Bless your heart’ you say to yourself. It never occurred to you that you would be touch starved after all this time, but it’s made itself known. His cologne, the fabric of his shirt rubbing against you, his breath fanning out over your hair, small touches that feel so immense. You then notice the brush of his thumb, slightly rubbing at your waist. Heat surges downwards, like you’ve been set on fire. 

You don’t realize you’ve made a noise until you feel Simon tense up against you. “Everything alright? Do you want me to stop touching you?” He asks, beginning to pull away. “No!” You squeak out, face aflame. “It just…Feels really good? Ugh, sorry, you’re not even…I haven’t been touched in a long, long time. I didn’t know it would affect me like this,” You try to laugh it off, beginning to fidget under his gaze. He nods in understanding. “I’ve been like that as well, nothin’ to be bashful about,'' He says, shifting to face you, his firm grip steadfast.

“Y-yeah, I’m just more…Sensitive? Than I thought, I hope it isn’t bothering you,” You respond. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, large hands engulfing the side of your face. Your breath catches in your throat, frozen in place. “Not botherin’ me at all, love,” he mutters, studying your face. This close to him, you notice more details. Faint scars scattered across his face, likely due to his field of work. Feeling emboldened, you bring a hand to his face, tracing one that reaches from under one of his eyes to the top of his upper lip. He tenses again, watching your movements. 

Reaching his lips, you let your thumb graze across them, a huff of breath leaving Simon’s mouth, warming your finger. “Somethin’ you want, is there?” He whispers, pulling you closer. Liquid courage coursing through you, you ask, “Never got to properly thank you for your help at the store. Could I…?” You trail off, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does, but that open ended question isn’t the exact wording he’s looking for. “Could you what, love? You can ask for it, can’t you?” 

Needing words of consent, you take a deep breath. “May I kiss you?” He smirks. “There you are.” He allows you to close the distance. At first, you give a peck to his cheek, before pressing your lips against his. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, clutching at his shirt. Simon threads his fingers through your hair, sighing against you. 

Oh God. You want him so badly, a profound yearning within your gut blooms throughout your body. Feeling desperate, your hands comb through his locks, a firm grip on them. He grunts, before tugging on yours, causing a rather loud moan to slip from your mouth. “P-Please, Simon. I want you,” You plead, breaking away to kiss along his jaw. He hums, “Good girl, using your words,” He pets your hair, his hand trailing from your hair down your back, fingertips light across your spine, sending a shiver through you.

His hand finds its destination, firmly grabbing your ass. You gasp out, arching against him. “Touch starved, are we?” He asks, chuckling. You whimper, grasping at his forearms, close to getting on your hands and knees to beg him to keep going, please please don’t stop. “Been needin’ someone to take care of you, yeah? Allow me, sweet girl.” You feel like igniting at his words, his sweet talk adding fuel to the ever growing heat inside your body.

His hands reach towards your upper back, locating the zipper on your dress. He hesitates, waiting for your approval which is given with a quick ‘yes yes yes’. Agonizingly slow, he pulls it down, before taking both hands and pulling at the sleeves to move the upper half away from your heated flesh.

Oh. You forgot you hadn’t worn a bra tonight, the dress having built in cups, you didn’t see the reason to, until now. Feeling bare under his burning gaze, you hunch over. “None of that now, love. S’just me,” He says, moving your arms away from your chest. Sitting upright again, you jut your chest out some, closing your eyes against his wandering stare, taking you in. “Gorgeous,” He whispers, fingers running along the slope of your left breast. 

Gasping, you stick your chest out more. You’re hoping he doesn’t need verbal approval, not trusting yourself to form cohesive thoughts at the moment. He continues, your reactions enough. His light touches are bordering on driving you feral, needing more. You squeeze his forearms, hoping he receives the message. He seems to understand, leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth, his hand pinching the other. 

You cry out, sensation like lightning electrifying you. Your eyes roll back into your head, chanting, “Please please don’t stop, feel s’good, God, please keep going!” He obliges, sucking harder on your hardened nub while tugging on the other. You begin trembling. “W-wait, Simon, I think I’m–” A loud moan rushes out of you along with wetness, soaking your panties from suddenly squirting. A tug of your nipple between his teeth sent you careening over the edge into glory. Your orgasm spreads throughout your body, holding onto him for dear life.

Simon groans, pulling away. “Fucking hell. Cumming from me barely touching you.” He’s looking at you in wonder. He lays you back against the leather, pulling your dress off all the way. Left in just your soiled underwear, he soon pulls those down as well, moaning as he sees the mess you made. “Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, pocketing the ruined panties. He quickly unbuttons his shirt, exposing his chest in all its grandeur. You bite your lip at the literal marble statue hovering over you, running your hands down his pecs and abs. 

You reach his slacks, tugging at his belt. He unbuckles said item, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. Now able to see his rather hefty cock straining against his underwear. You let out another whimper, legs automatically spreading open. “Goin’ to give you all you need, sweet girl. Being so good for me,” He says, running his hands up and down your legs, giving a reassuring squeeze to them. He kisses down your chest and stomach, touches soft and sweet. Reaching the apex of your thighs, his hands slot behind your knees, pushing your thighs against you, laid bare before him.

The passion in his eyes is so intense you have to look away, biting your lip. He tuts at you, “Want you to see this next part,” He says, directing your gaze back to him. He smiles, before suddenly a hot stripe of his tongue runs up, through your folds and to your clit. You toss your head back and yell, his chuckle vibrating against your pussy. Your legs are shaking even harder than before. Your words incoherent, you grasp at his hand, pulling him closer to your heat. ‘Good Lord, he’s a goddamn professional.’ Good to know your thoughts are still intact.

Your thoughts come to a standstill, Simon sliding a finger into your warmth. He swirls it around inside before adding another, crooking upwards while sucking on your clit. “Ah!” You’re thrown over that precipice again, legs clamping around his head. He pulls away, watching you shudder and convulse, wetness releasing from you once more. He grins, proud of his work. “Think you have one more in you, sweet girl,” He says, matter of factly, like he didn’t just remove your soul from your body twice in under ten minutes. 

He pushes your thighs further up this time, knees almost bracketing each side of your head. ‘Good God, this man is going to ruin me.’ You’re thankful your thoughts have returned for the moment, knowing your brain will be scattered again soon. He reaches down, pulling a condom from his wallet, slipping it on. “Ready for me?” He asks, lining himself up with your quivering hole, clenching around nothing for the moment. You nod. “Yes, yes, yes please,” you beg, shame be damned, needing Simon inside you now.

He slides in effortlessly, going achingly slow. The stretch is a lot, not surprising, though. It definitely matches in accordance with the rest of his body. He fully seats himself inside you, letting you adjust. “Please, move. Fuck me, Simon, need it so bad,” You’re able to form a coherent sentence, it rushing out of you near the end when Simon pulls out and glides back in. “Fuck, so tight, love. Feel so good, baby,” He moans out, picking up speed. Skin slapping against skin fills the quiet space, movie long over with. 

He’s hitting every single inch of you, rubbing just right. He leans over you, letting your legs drop. You take the opportunity to wrap them around his waist, pulling him flush against you. Simon brings you in for a searing kiss, rocking his hips into you, barely leaving you now. Your moans and panting are music to his ears, his own noises making you sing to the heavens. Reaching in between your bodies, he works your clit in unison with the grinding of his hips. “One more love, you can do it, there you go sweet girl, so good f’me,” He feels the rhythmic clenching around his cock and your squealing, reaching euphoria for the last time that night. He picks up the pace again, his thrusts soon stuttering as he reaches his own end, gasping and whimpering into your neck. 

He keeps himself propped up on his elbows while you both calm from the frenzied activity. As your breath evens out, he pecks your cheek, grinning. “Most proper thanks I’ve received,” He says, laughing at your widening eyes. “You–!” You swat at his chest, beginning to laugh yourself. He slides out, disposing of the condom before picking you up, carrying you to his bedroom. He sets you down on his silken black sheets, before laying next to you. You toss your leg over his before snuggling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, feeling warm. You mumble a ‘Good night’ before drifting off, Simon not far behind you. Allowing himself to fall asleep cradling you in his arms. Feeling content and happy for the first time in a long while.

Tags: @dwkfan, spicy part two ♡

[apoemaday]

Antilamentation

by Dorianne Laux

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read to the end just to find out who killed the cook. Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark, in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication. Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot, the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones that crimped your toes, don’t regret those. Not the nights you called god names and cursed your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch, chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness. You were meant to inhale those smoky nights over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches. You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still you end up here. Regret none of it, not one of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing, when the lights from the carnival rides were the only stars you believed in, loving them for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved. You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake, ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.

[teen-antisocial]

Man After Midnight - Matpat x reader

TW: Collen Balinger, mention of death

The air was still. No breeze. No wind. No rain. No warmth. It was haunting. The group of youtubers had been at Everlock for about 3 hours, making it half past 12. Y/N Davidson had been constantly on edge. She had won about 2 challenges out of the 4 that have happened. She had just witnessed her best friend, and crush, die. He lost a challenge to Manny, and it was heartbreaking to see. She looked at him before it happened, he couldn't move which triggered her to do the same.

She hoped all this was a nightmare and she would wake up and watch the late show in her flat all alone. Normally she would hate to spend the evening on her own, but right now. She would take it. Y/N couldn't bring herself to watch another friend die. She was currently fighting survivors guilt.

Currently, she is sitting next to Joey, listening to him rant on about something to do with the league of evil he's with. She just wanted him to shut up. That league is the reason Mat was dead. Nothing could convince her otherwise. Autumn winds started blowing outside the window, possibly a sign the curse was wearing off maybe? Probably not!

It made her so depressed to look around the room and see the gloom. However she didn't blame anyone, the best player had just died. Who wouldn't give up? By this point all the players had. Y/N found herself praying to herself. Praying for someone to come and save them. 'is there a man out there? Someone to hear my prayer?' she wondered, looking around the room.

Suddenly, Nikita placed a bottle in front of her. "Drink up sunshine, you can't give up now!" She stated "Mat would want you to fight for your survival, to live your life, not to give up!" All Y/N could do is nod and take a swig of her drink. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight" she thought to herself as she took the sip. "Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away"

All Y/N wanted to do was go home and give her brother the biggest hug ever. Tell him she's sorry for everything she had ever done to him. This mission really made her realize that tomorrow isn't always promised. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight" she repeated hoping something would happen. "To lead me through the darkness to the break of the day"

This seems like something a movie star would film for a horror film. It's crazy to think she was living it. Looking around, she realized the next task was being read out loud. She needed to stop day dreaming and get her head into focus. She needed to survive. For George (her brother) , for her family. She couldn't let them down by giving up and dying.

"Find the end of the rainbow, with a fortune to win! It's so different from the world you're living in" Calliope states, great another riddle. After a while of thinking, Y/N finally says something.

"It must be about children, they live in the same world yet it's so different to the world we live in. They have an imagination, and see the world in bright colourful rainbows."

"True, but why would there be a task involving children?" Manny asks, raising an eyebrow

"Well this entire carnival is messed up, it wouldn't surprise me if there were children involved"

"Wait! Y/N/N you're onto something there! Think about it! Maybe there are not fully children. Maybe they are dolls. They are so common at these things, aren't they? Think about it! It makes so much sense!" Colleen agrees

"So you mean to tell me that we might have to fight killer children!" Rossana comments

"Doll children but basically" Joey says

Y/N found herself hoping again that all this was a nightmare, she was going to stop day dreaming and then be in her living room. She would be tired of the TV and she opens a window and she gazes into a night but there's nothing to see, no one in sight.

Y/N doesn't know when, she had been silent and following the others, but they had found themselves in a room with a maiden of madness. God help whoever had to be put in there. It's gonna hurt. She hoped it wasn't her. The tarret cards were put at the front and Calliope brought Colleen up to do the first vote.

She looked around the room, at all the people who were there. Somehow she wondered who would most likely go after her. Y/N! It clicked! Y/N would want revenge about what happened to Mat. Of course she would vote for Colleen. She debated on whether to tell or not. In the end she decided to.

"I'm voting for Y/N" she said emotionless "she wants me dead, and I am planning on surviving!"

"Is there a man out there, someone to hear my prayers!" Y/N screamed internally, hoping if she prayed hard enough she wouldn't be put in the box.

Before Colleen could step back from placing a vote, Safiya said something "why would Y/N want you dead. In every challenge she has voted for herself of Joey!"

"I voted for Matt Safiya! She's going to want me dead!"

Y/N's heart broke. She had defended Colleen to Mat almost a dozen times and yet this is how she repaid her. "You voted for Mat?" She whispered

Colleen didn't know what to say, she assumed Y/N knew, and had voted her into a death trap. No one said a word, until Joey went up, "look I'm sorry Colleen but, I'm going to vote you in, you can't just vote someone in for a reason like that!"

"Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight! Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away!" Y/N said internally as she stepped up, she looked at all the names. She didn't want to start drama, and so she subtly put Colleens card forward, making her vote hidden!

Quite a lot of people voted for Colleen, there were a few random votes here and there due to lack of cards in Colleen's pile. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight, take me through the darkness, to the break of the day!" Y/N internally prayed again, nerves twisting in her stomach, her heart beat quickening by the second. She feared that she was going to be the one to go in.

The cards were shuffled, and a card was chosen. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight won't somebody help me chase the shadows away" another silent prayer. Calliope took a card and looked at it, "gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight take me through the darkness through the break of the day!"

"The disco dancer" Calliope announced showing the card to the rest of the group. Colleen shook her head, as Joey and Safiya grabbed her. Y/N stood at the back of the room with Rosanna as the rest of the group put Colleen in the box, despite her screams and pleas for mercy. None were listened to. As the doors shut, Colleen let out a scream as powerful as banshee, causing the group to cover their ears.

A tear gently fell down Rosanna's face, this felt immoral to her. Slowly, the group headed back to their safe space, making sure they had the artifact. Through investigation, the group found out that they could revive one person. Y/N was laid on a sofa as Safiya and Joey discussed who to bring back. Manny and Nikita sat on another sofa, while Rossana sat on her own playing with Matt's badge.

Y/N found herself drifting to sleep, she needed the sleep, she couldn't sleep though. She needed it though. Before she could properly drift off, the two came over and announced they had chosen someone. The group sat and looked around, wondering where the said person was. Wondering, if it even worked.

"Is there a man out there? Someone to hear my prayers?" Y/N internally prayed again. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight, won't somebody help me chase the shadows away" there was still no sign of life. Just as the group were about to give up, a crash was made, followed by a yellow flash. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight, take me through the shadows, through the break of the day"

She exhaled slightly, and sat up a little and repeated the thoughts in her head. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight, won't somebody help me chase the shadows away, gimmie gimmie gimmie a man after midnight take me through the shadows to the break of the day"

Suddenly, a confused figure walked into the room, Y/N couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Mat walk through the door. Carefully, she rubbed her eyes and watched Rossana walk over and hug Mat, giving him back his badge.

Mat proceeded to hug everyone in the group, how her he saw no sign of Colleen, or his crush Y/N which made a sort of anxiety rise inside of him. Mainly directed at Y/N. Once he hugged the others, he looked over at the sofa and saw a tired, unmotivated and emotional Y/N looking at him. He ran over and gave her the biggest hug he could possibly give. He was thankful to be alive. And he was reunited with Y/N.

"I'm sorry for leaving you" he muttered, looking at her, admiring the twinkle in her eyes. He quickly looked down at her lips and then back at her own, realizing she had done the same. He thought nothing of it.

However, once it was all over, and the five survivors (Joey, Matt, Nikita, Y/N and Rossana) walked out, Mat carefully pulled Y/N aside. "Y/N, please, we've been friends for months now, and I always feel this feeling around you. Like there's butterflies in my stomach. And it took dying for me to realize this, but I like you! Not in a friend way, or a platonic way, as In I want a relationship with you" he confessed.

Y/N didn't even answer, she just crashed her lips onto his, that gave him his answer. The answer is that they were official. "I like you too!"

masterlist

[theredofoctober]

MANNA DRABBLE PART 3 (soon to be included in main fic and changed, so parts of this drabble are no longer canon)

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse etc.

---

It's October when you wake in the night to realise that Hannibal was telling the truth: Will Graham watches you while you sleep, standing, back-lit, in the doorway as thunder runs like gravel over the house.

You lie, tangled in sheets, your hair static from fear, and the storm. That evening, Will had force-fed you by hand, Hannibal holding your arms firmly at your sides, as cool as a sentinel as he'd observed his friend's aggressions. You had swallowed, and swallowed, and half-choked, yet you had finished your plate, and kept it down, sweating with the effort of it.

Will had looked at you with unfamiliar eyes, softer than you had yet known them, a kindly stranger's.

"Good girl," he'd said, and the shock as he'd caressed your cheek with his hot hand had sent your stomach into carnival turns.

After therapy sessions he rarely lingers, returning home, or to work on whatever case has currently arrested him, sometimes accompanied by Doctor Lecter, leaving you alone, dosed, and chained to his bedpost like a dog; past misbehaviour has led to this measure, the demotion from precious girl to uncouth animal.

If Will does stay, then he sits with Hannibal and talks, drinking wine, each of them so intent on the other that you comprehend they are, on some level, in love.

They scarcely notice you on nights like that, keeping you in sight, expected to read a book, or use your sketchpad and pencils. How often they ignore you as you sulk, and lie on your back watching rain beat against the windows.

If you cry, or attempt to move in any way that might be considered exercise they break from their quiet corner to correct you, as they call it; quickly you learn that it is not in your power to keep to your old rules before them.

On other nights they make love to you together, sometimes with a sickening tenderness, other times with a violence that suggests you are a panting vixen in the teeth of two savage hounds. You have not yet seen them touch one another sensually, but from the fire in the air you judge that it is only a matter of time before they do.

Tonight, however.

Tonight you had been sent to bed early, for your own sake, it was suggested, medicine for the girl overwrought. You had been glad of the time alone to return to your old obsessive patterns in private, taking a vicious joy from the control of it. Sleep evaded you for a very long time as you lay, thrumming with glee, and guilt, and more life than you have felt in a very long time.

Then, as the wind broke its fists against the window panes, you had slept, forgetting, for a moment, that you were not home.

Now Will Graham looms by the doorframe like a malevolent wisp, and your first thought, as you go rigid, is that he knows you have misbehaved, and has come to put you across his knee for your efforts.

"You're still here?" you ask, softly, and Will starts; he hadn't known that you were awake. "Are you... staying the night?"

"No," says Will, after a strange pause. "I can't. I'm teaching tomorrow. Can't skip it."

He looks damp and pasty in the dim light, a grub dug up from the earth. You sit up in bed, oddly moved and rather alarmed by his sudden illness.

"You're sick," you say, quietly.

Will shakes his head slowly. Coils of dark hair cling damply to his brow.

"No," he says, then adds, "I don't know. I just remembered something. A dream."

The words send such a chill through you that you draw flat against the wall, away from him.

"What was the dream?" you ask, although you don't want to know.

Glancing down, away from you, avoidant as always, Will reads some shape in the darkness.

Then he says, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Against you better judgement, you enquire, "Why not?"

"Feel like it'd be speaking it into being, somehow."

You wrap icy arms around your knees.

"I thought you didn't believe in that stuff."

Will swallows audibly, clenches a hand on the side of the door.

"I... don't. But this dream is different."

You feel how badly he craves to come to you, to hold you, and to be held, both of you vulnerable and pathetic. You know how much he itches to run away, to hide in his house, a fortress of solitude. Still he remains in the doorway, the threshold between two needs.

"Wait," you say, suddenly. "I don't have to know."

But Will is wetting his lips, swaying like a drunk, though he has likely only downed a glass or two in the room below.

"In this dream," he says, "you escape from here. You run away. It's mid autumn; the trees are dripping with so many orange leaves around you it's like I'm chasing you through a field of fire. Yes, I'm chasing you. It's like my blood's up at the sight of you pounding the earth ahead of me. Like you've triggered some instinctual urge in me to hunt."

Will closes his eyes in recollection, and you see them flicker below the lids as though he is slumbering, still.

"It's raining," he says. "Just like tonight, it's raining, and your dress is wet against you, and you're dirty, and your hair is full of leaves. You're like something born in the forest, yet I'm angry because I know, even in the dream, that you belong with me, and with Hannibal."

"Don't," you mumble, but Will doesn't seem to hear you, returning to the red place of sleep.

You smell the copper scent of his sweat, and the smoke of his cologne; you are revolted by him in every way, and yet there is an attraction, too, and an affinity that is only just beginning to unfold.

"I catch you from behind," he murmurs. "My arms around your waist, pulling you down into the leaves with me. You're screaming, begging me to let me go, but you don't use my name. You call me 'Daddy', and that's a mistake, because it reminds me exactly how mad I am that you dared run away from me. The thrill of chasing you, of all that rage.

"I hit you. I kiss you. I stuff your mouth with dirty leaves like a scarecrow, and tear your stupid little dress off your body, and I thrust inside you as the rain falls against us, and it is—"

Halting, Will mops his face with an erratic hand.

"But that's not all," he confesses, the broken sentence lost. "I enter you in two ways, because in my hand I have a knife."

You moan aloud in horror, and Will stares at you as though he's forgotten that you're in the room.

"I stab you as I move inside you, and in that moment I can't decide which sensation is more pleasurable. There's warmth both ways, the feeling of taking what I want, of having complete power over you, your fate, and it's overwhelming. I woke up sick to my stomach, but I wasn't as horrified by that dream as I should have been."

Stiff, frail as an invalid child, you wrap yourself into your sheets as though they might protect you from him.

"You want to get rid of me," you rasp. "I was right: you want to kill me."

"No!"

This, spoken with an urgency that startles you.

"No," Will repeats, in a softer voice. "I don't. But if you ever try to run I can't say for sure that it wouldn't end like that dream. It was potent, and it felt... real."

Thunder roars like the pain of a goliath beyond your bedroom window, and you reach up to draw the curtains shut.

"I'll never run away," you say, in a pinched voice. "Hannibal's too smart to let me do it."

At this Will looks at you with eyes of such blue darkness that it's like gazing into the endless graves of the sea.

"He might let you try, some day," he says. "Just to see what you and I will do."

[merrywaanderer]

a rainy night on whickber street

aziraphale + crowley

synopsis: a soft little drabble, inspired by neil's admission that aziraphale doesn't know that crowley now lives in his car

warnings: n/a

word count: 2k

a/n: i've written a happy little fic to heal your hearts (and mine...), so hopefully, this has its intended effect. set during s2, but entirely spoiler free, as far as i can tell :')

⭒

It was raining on Whickber Street. 

Aziraphale was a self-proclaimed enjoyer of rain, finding that some things were simply sweeter against the backdrop of a grey sky, with a soft musical pitter patter for soundtrack — lamps with their warm yellow glow, hot chocolate and reading, listening to Shostakovich records. That sort of thing.

Maybe kisses, too, if Crowley was to be believed. Aziraphale still believed most in dancing at balls. 

Night had fallen earlier as the summer days had dawdled away, and in the dim light of the bookshop, Aziraphale yawned, the gentle notes of ‘The Swan’ from Saint-Saën’s Carnival of the Animals drifting from the gramophone, lulling him to sleep at too early an hour. 

Only a moment later, he yawned again. 

Maybe not so early, then, Aziraphale mused silently, and glanced up at the clock which sat upon his desk. 

His eyes widened behind his spectacles. 

So that was the time! High time to be going to bed, one should think. 

With a soft sigh, he rose from his chair and folded up his glasses, closing the book he had been examining, and settling the spectacles neatly atop the cover, ready for the new day. 

Humming to himself, he tidied the few things he always did before going to bed, switching off a few lamps here and there, all but enough to light his way upstairs, and then went about drawing the blinds for the night. 

He was just closing the last of them, when a strange sight beyond the rain-speckled window caused him to look twice. 

It was Crowley’s Bentley — well now, who else’s would it be? — parked at the kerb, as it often was in the day. But clearly, it was not day, and Crowley’s Bentley should have been parked by his flat. So where was Crowley, if the Bentley was here? It was hardly like him to let his beloved Bentley out of his sight. 

Aziraphale frowned. He resolved to investigate. 

He strode across the bookshop floor, and carefully — hesitantly, in case this was some fiendish trap of Hell’s making — twisted the doorknob and pushed. 

It was raining less now, only sprinkling, but the door creaked as though it were as hesitant as the angel himself to leave the warmth and light of the bookshop. But Aziraphale stepped out onto the pavement, peering into the night toward the Bentley.

He was still holding onto the door when a dash of colour caught his gaze. Red, like a flame behind the light from the bookshop, glinting off the windows of the car.

He frowned again, and let go of the door. He walked slowly toward the Bentley, now surer of himself, though still puzzled by the sight before him. 

But when he reached the car, he was certain of what he saw, albeit not why it was that he was seeing it.

Because there was Crowley, slumped in the passenger’s seat of the Bentley, head tipped forward so that his chin nearly touched his chest, dark glasses nowhere to be seen. 

His mouth hung open just a little, lower lip sticking out in a fashion which might have been pouty, had Crowley not been asleep, all the usual tension gone from between his eyes.

Something clenched in Aziraphale’s chest.

With a little shiver, Azirphale pushed aside whatever had just come over him, and knocked on the window, first quietly, then more insistently, when the latter proved ineffective. 

“Crowley,” he said. “Crowley!”

At last, Crowley started, head hitting the ceiling of the car as Aziraphale winced, before those pretty yellow eyes flicked at last to his angel.

The rigidity which had abruptly pinched Crowley’s shoulders left just as quickly when the demon’s gaze settled on Aziraphale, and he began to roll down the window. 

Aziraphale, knees bent, leant his arms on the windowsill, so as to match Crowley’s present height. 

“Angel,” said Crowley softly, before Aziraphale could speak. “What… mmm. What are you doing here?”

Aziraphale frowned for the third time in a very short span of minutes. “I could ask you the same thing, my dear boy.”

“‘S no crime to sit in one’s car, ‘sit?” Crowley mumbled groggily. 

“But it’s nighttime,” Aziraphale intoned. “You should be at home. Asleep.”

“I am at home,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale felt a warm laugh bubble up to his lips. “No, you’re not, silly. You’re in your car.”

Crowley didn’t laugh. He sighed. “Car’s where I live, now.”

The angel blinked, bemused. “What do you mean? What about your flat?”

Crowley shrugged. “‘S not mine anymore. Shax’s. Part of Hell’s consequences after our little escaping act.”

A sudden hurt gripped Aziraphale again, and his expression softened further, if that was even possible. “Oh, Crowley. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Crowley didn’t look at him, only uttering a quiet, unintelligible noise which was in no way a word. But his meaning was conveyed all the same — he did not know what to say at this moment, nor, possibly, did he ever. 

“You’re always here,” Aziraphale murmured. “Why not just stay?”

In the silence, Aziraphale heard only his own breath, and the short stutter of Crowley’s, coming in waves. Crowley still would not look at him. 

“I, uh — didn’tknowthatyou’dwantmetostay.”

The confusion resettled on Aziraphale’s brow. “Come again?”

Crowley coughed. “I…” Again. “I didn’t know that you’d, um. Want me to stay.”

The last of his words had once more come out a tangled mess, but Aziraphale caught them all the same.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale reached a hand through the car window, and in the dim lighting of the street, his palm met Crowley’s solid chest sooner than he had anticipated. 

Crowley breathed in sharply, and Aziraphale nearly drew back at his misstep, but whether it was the lateness of the night or his desire to convey to Crowley what he meant, something stayed his hand, and he did not move. But it was at that precise moment that Crowley finally met his gaze, and Aziraphale felt his own breath hitch at their closeness, though a car door separated them still. 

The warmth which had been in his laughter now spread through his chest, and all throughout him, though the warmest part of him was his hand, where it lay on Crowley’s chest. 

“I always want you to stay,” he said softly. 

Crowley’s mouth dropped open again, and unwittingly, Aziraphale’s eyes strayed there.

Crowley, however, did notice. 

“Well. I, um,” Crowley felt the need to clear his throat again, “I’d like to.”

With a small smile, Aziraphale nodded once, decisively. He rose from where he had crouched, and opened Crowley’s door. “Then it is done.”

He stepped back as Crowley left the car to join him on the pavement, then shut the car door once more. 

He began to walk back to the bookshop’s entrance, aware of Crowley following along behind him, when a telltale scuff of shoes indicated that Crowley had stopped. Aziraphale turned. 

“Come along, Crowley. It’s raining, after all.”

Crowley pointed over his shoulder, “It’s just, uh, I forgot my glasses.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You don’t need them here, darling.”

Crowley’s lips pursed, then fell slack once more. He nodded. 

They made it to the door, and Aziraphale held it open for his oldest friend, slipping inside and locking the thing securely once the two were safely indoors. 

He padded over to the blind he had neglected to close, and swept it shut, faintly aware of Crowley standing awkwardly, unusually silent, in the middle of the room. 

Aziraphale returned to him. “There’s the sofa,” he said meaninglessly, because he had only just now thought of it. “But it always gets so cold down here at night. Why don’t you just come upstairs?”

Before Crowley could say that he didn’t really feel the cold, it occurred to him that here was a better option. 

“After all, why not,” he murmured, and Aziraphale offered him a nod of approval. 

He trailed after his angel switching off the last of the lamps, picking up a single candle, lit in its holder. Aziraphale took the first of the many steps up the spiral staircase, then turned and extended his hand to Crowley, that small, familiar smile lighting his face more than any candle could have dreamt to replicate. 

Crowley slipped his hand into Azriaphale’s, his long, cold fingers softening in the surrounding warmth of the angel’s hand. 

And thus they made their ascent of the stairs, Crowley fighting the appearance of his own tiny smile. But there was no reason to fight, and so he let it be, let it take him over. Who was he, after all, to deny himself so small a taste of paradise?

At the top of the stairs they soon came to the room in which Aziraphale sometimes slept. Crowley himself found his desire for sleep infrequent, preferring to roam about the silent Earth in the quiet night hours. But this night, for whatever reason, was set apart from the others, and had been from the start. 

Aziraphale’s hand fell from Crowley’s as he went to set the candle upon his bedside table. Crowley, suddenly drawn by an insatiable curiosity to the bookshelves that prevailed even in Aziraphale’s bedroom, strode toward the books, running his fingers along the spines. These books seemed unlike the ones Aziraphale kept downstairs at the heart of the shop. On the contrary, it seemed that these books were where Aziraphale kept his heart; the spines of these volumes were decorated in his neat, tightly-lettered script, proclaiming dates to those who cared to read them. Though, Crowley supposed (or maybe hoped), no one but him had been brought here to see them. 

He tipped one carefully down from the shelf, and it opened in his hands, the spine oddly worn as though the book had been opened — read, again and again — many times. 

He was surprised to find his name, amongst all the words, more often than anything else. 

“You keep diaries — ” he began, at the same moment as Aziraphale said, 

“Don’t —”

He turned, shutting the book abruptly, and found Aziraphale by the bed, now in a long, white cotton shirt which was more of a gown, looking more angelic than ever. He looked ever so much as he had done the day Crowley had met him, with all the stars of creation in those eyes of his.

“Oh,” was all Crowley managed. Aziraphale, for some reason, blushed. 

Yet he seemed to recover quickly enough. “Come to bed, Crowley.”

Crowley all but forgot the book he had been holding, and only just caught and replaced it on the shelf before it fell to the floor. 

He approached Aziraphale slowly, as one does a frightened animal, though there was nothing of that sort in Aziraphale’s soft face. The rain pattered softly against the windows.

Crowley took off his jacket, and hung it over the low bedpost. With a brief glance at Aziraphale across the bed, he sat, and removed his shoes, and the thin silver scarf which was always around his neck. He discarded his trousers in the same pile, and turned to find Aziraphale with his legs already tucked under the covers, cradling the candle with a patient expression. 

Crowley mirrored Aziraphale’s attitude, and Aziraphale, seeing this, blew out the candle, and set it aside. 

In the darkness, Crowley lay down, and by the rustling of the sheets, heard Aziraphale do the same. He turned in his direction. 

“So,” he said quietly, “what now?” 

He thought Aziraphale shuffled closer. 

“Same as always,” said the angel. “We stay together.”

Then, to Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale nestled his cheek against Crowley’s chest, and wrapped his lovely arms around Crowley’s waist. 

Another soft Oh fell from Crowley’s mouth, and Aziraphale sighed against his chest. Crowley’s arms, of their own accord, as if they knew nothing more natural, came up to draw Aziraphale closer, and Aziraphale’s warmth bled into his skin, and became his own. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of great honour, because Aziraphale had chosen him, of all creatures, to hold in his arms.

“Good night, Crowley,” mumbled, already half asleep. 

“Good night, angel,” sighed — smitten, blissful, besotted. 

The rain continued to fall over Whickber Street, though angel and demon, wrapped up in one another, heeded it not.

⭒

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[bungeepuppet]

Happy Birthday

Prompt: Illumi is the only person to ever celebrate Hisoka’s birthday.

Rating: Mature (Mentions of sex, but nothing explicit)

Words: 4,000~

Note: A VERY FLUFFY one-shot that I had planned alongside the comic I did for Hisoka’s birthday, but could not get to cooperate with me until last night! So... Happy Birthday, Hisoka! 🎂🎈🎊 (+ao3)

—

No one ever celebrated Hisoka’s birthday.

In fact, most people would rather curse the day he was born than celebrate it.

They couldn’t curse the exact day, of course, because just about no one besides Hisoka himself knew what the actual date of his birthday was.

No parents, no siblings, no extended family that might have taken guardianship otherwise.

Hisoka hoped that if any had ever existed that they were all dead.

The administration from the carnival that had bought him as a small child were all dead. Hisoka had made sure of that.

They had known the date, since his documentation was inside the safe a young Hisoka had plundered after killing the office staff and owner. 

June 6th, 19xx. 

(There was a convenient coffee stain over the last two digits of the year.)

Hisoka kept the date as one of his little secrets. That way it would be so much funner to be out indulging himself in a bloody fight or two and no one would know it was really just a birthday gift to himself. 

The few times that he shared the date was in passing at bars or clubs on the night of his birthday, and he was often treated to a few free drinks and sex with pretty, drunk strangers for doing so.

They wouldn’t remember the date. No one alive did.

Except, that wasn’t entirely true anymore.

There was one. 

And it was funny too, that the only person to ever remember his birthday, let alone celebrate it, was someone equally as merciless and bloodstained as himself.

Illumi Zoldyck, of all people.

—

The first year was laughably minimalistic. The absolute bare minimum.

Hisoka had accompanied Illumi on a small job, free of charge. Only he knew that it was an excuse to do something a little fun for his birthday, in the company of one of the few people that could stand him for more than a few hours. 

It was fun keeping his secret for the flight there and during the slaughter that Illumi allowed him to commit with the guards. Illumi didn’t know that allowing Hisoka to act out was incidentally giving him a birthday present, and it made Hisoka smile. 

By the time they were waiting for their flight back to Padokea, Hisoka felt inclined to let Illumi in on his secret. He had been a good “friend” and had shown him a good time for his birthday, albeit unwittingly. 

“You know…” Hisoka smiled as he shuffled a deck of cards in his hands. “Today is my birthday. ♦”

Illumi turned to look at Hisoka, his expression betraying no emotion. Hisoka tilted his chin up to catch a peek at his companion. He knew Illumi’s wide eyes well enough now to know that he was curious about the declaration.

“Hoh, is it…?” Illumi asked with his airy, unafflicted voice.

Hisoka pressed his smile flat into a pleased “u” shape, and his eyes bent closed in an equally pleased fashion. 

“Yup! ♣” He answered childishly. “And my friend Illumi was so nice to take me out for the day~♥” 

Illumi’s small mouth disappeared into an even smaller dot on his face. 

He hadn’t been aware at all that Hisoka was celebrating with him today. Hisoka’s way of speaking was confusing, but it was acceptable that Hisoka enjoyed his time working with him, seeing as Illumi wasn’t paying him for this job. If Hisoka took that as Illumi doing him a favor on top of already working for free, then that was fortuitous on its own. 

Still, Illumi was confident that Hisoka was asking too little for a birthday, even for an adult. Illumi was currently the only adult in his line of siblings, but his parents would still present him with a few practical gifts and his favorite dessert come his birthday. His younger brothers were much more spoiled, and always had cake and toys on their birthdays.

“Hm.” Illumi put his knuckle to his chin in thought. 

This was quite a predicament he had been put in, but simple enough that surely it was fixable. 

Hisoka’s expression faltered when Illumi stood from his seat suddenly.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Illumi said politely.

Hisoka watched his cohort walk down the terminal hall and slumped his mouth to the side. He supposed it was his own fault for expecting more of a response than that from a man as composed as Illumi Zoldyck.

It took quite a bit longer than a moment for Illumi to return, and by the time he did, Hisoka was standing by the window while other passengers waited in line to board. 

Illumi walked right up to him without any change in expression. 

“I bought you a gift.” Illumi said nonchalantly and reached into his pocket.

Hisoka’s eyes opened more in surprise. He wasn’t sure what kind of gift Illumi would have purchased from the many random travel kiosks in the airport, but he was curious to know. 

“Oh? Did you? ♦” Hisoka leaned in to see Illumi’s hand.

Illumi opened his palm face up to reveal a package of Bungee Gum. Hisoka’s eyebrow twitched. 

“Ah…♠” He didn’t know what to say. 

“Hm? This is your favorite, isn't it?” Illumi asked him curiously. 

Hisoka lifted his hand to take the candy from him.

“Oh, well… yes.” He admitted. 

Well, it was his favorite gum. Significantly so. 

Hisoka would have loved to receive a packet of Bungee Gum for his birthday when he was a little carnie kid without a jenny to his name. But as an adult… 

Hisoka turned the package in his hand and looked at the familiar smiling face and suit patterns decorating the paper. He couldn’t stop the smile that snorted to life with his laugh.

One of the world’s most proficient assassin’s had gotten him a pack of gum for a birthday gift, because he remembered that it was his favorite. Why did Illumi even bother to remember that?

“I guess it’s the thought that counts…♣” Hisoka thought, and laughed again.

“What is so funny about it?” Illumi asked while they joined the check-in line, with Hisoka giggling to himself all the way.

“Oh, not a thing, Illumi.” Hisoka grinned at him and peeled the wrapping off of the side of his silly birthday gift. 

Hisoka popped one of the blocks of gum into his mouth, then picked up another foil covered piece between his clawed nails. He offered it to Illumi while he chewed. 

“Would you like one? ♦” Hisoka asked courteously. Illumi blinked back at him, still confused.

“It's your birthday gift.” Illumi replied with almost enough infliction to sound human. 

“And I would love to share it with you. ♥” Hisoka rebutted. 

Illumi looked at the piece of candy with some thought. After a moment, he took it, peeled the foil off, and popped the square of gum into his mouth without a word. Hisoka smiled.

They spent the first part of the airship ride with nothing but the shuffling of cards and the dull pops of bubblegum to break the silence.

—

The second year was more practical. 

It was about a week before Hisoka’s birthday, and he and Illumi were enjoying a drink after completing another easy job. 

Hisoka hadn’t brought up that his birthday was nearing, and debated the best way to do so as he sipped on his glass of whiskey. He didn’t want to point it out on-the-nose and come off as desperate.

The addition of sex to their relationship’s pot had really been a mixed bag; on one hand, great sex, and on the other hand, constantly teetering on emotional vulnerability.

He tilted his drink back and forth while he considered his words. Illumi spoke up before he found them. 

"Oh," He breathed. "I almost forgot."

"It's your birthday next week…" Illumi turned toward Hisoka further.

"It is customary to have dinner and drinks, isn't it? Do you have any preferences?"

He had really meant to bring it up earlier, as it was his nature to be prepared for events such as these. Reservations may be needed, and even though the Zoldyck name could easily sway any establishment to bend policies, it was always better to have accommodations settled early. Hopefully a week was enough time—Illumi didn't want to come off as ill-prepared for something important.

Hisoka's expression lit up at the question, and he tried to stifle his glee, to no avail.

No one had ever offered such a thing to him in his entire life!

A good few times he had eaten and drank with others on his birthday, but it was never planned, and it certainly was not offered to him by a friend. He had allies come and go in the past, but no friends to speak of for as long as memory served him. 

Except now, he had Illumi.

(Even if the assassin argued over the definition of "friend" every time it was brought up.)

"Ohh~♥" Hisoka cooed. "Illu you are so sweet to me~♦"

Hisoka rested his elbows onto the bar counter, drink still in hand, and laid his cheek onto his wrist in thought.

"What did I do to deserve such a sweetheart like you? ♣"

Illumi's mouth pursed at the overly soft term.

"You ensured that my birthday last year was quite… memorable." He answered.

Hisoka dropped his expression for a moment, then slid his eyes shut with a mischievous smile. 

Illumi's birthday was in November, a considerably good while ago, but he must have truly enjoyed himself to want to return the favor now in June.

Hisoka allowed his ever-hungry tongue to flick out from the corner of his mouth and lap at the skin above it as he recalled the wonderful sounds he had pulled out of Illumi the night of his birthday. Dinner, drinks, and a very hot night of dirty kisses and oral sex—what a blissful memory. And it hadn't been long after that that they had finally slept together, too.

"Will I be receiving a similar gift from you? ♦" Hisoka purred in excitement.

Illumi watched Hisoka's hips as he squirmed enough to pivot himself in place on his stool, even with his legs crossed. He looked back up to Hisoka's face with a small smile.

"It is your birthday." He said, with an understanding that it meant Hisoka was free to ask him for whatever he would like as a gift. 

Hisoka swooned with a malicious laugh. 

"You're too good to me, Illumi~♥"

—

The third year was a… surprise.

Illumi called Hisoka two days before his birthday and informed him that he urgently needed his assistance with a job on the west coast of Kukan'yu. Hisoka was expecting Illumi to be calling him about potential plans for his birthday, but figured that a job in a pretty, posh little coastal town would offer plenty of opportunities for fun together, and plus, killing and fighting was a treat all on its own.

Hisoka flew to the much larger city just north of Illumi's location, then took a cab to the affluent hamlet where Illumi said his target was holed up somewhere. As he watched the glittering sea from the taxi window, Hisoka received a call from Illumi.

"I got your text." Illumi said, distracted. Hisoka could hear him rummaging with something in the background.

"Yes, I'll be in town within the hour~" Hisoka flicked at his nails casually. "So where am I meeting you? ♣"

"Oh, I cannot meet today." Illumi replied with a much more direct tone. "You will be meeting a correspondent."

Hisoka glanced at his phone questioningly. He didn't want to say he was disappointed to have to wait to see Illumi until tomorrow, but it did take some gusto out of him. Illumi was aware that his birthday was tomorrow, right? He had to be.

Oh well, once the job was done they could do something together.

"Alright." Hisoka turned his attention back to the ocean view.

"I'll send you the address." Illumi said, absentminded again.

—

Hisoka arrived at the address Illumi had provided by mid-afternoon, and found it to be attached to a manicured townhouse. The street was lined with equally well-kept, Mediterranean style homes, with groomed tropical plants and trees that made the area look more like a postcard than a place for murder.

Well, murder follows money, and there was plenty of money here.

Hisoka entered the house with a quick knock, and was greeted by an older man in a black suit.

"Master Illumi has asked me to give you instructions for the meeting tomorrow." The man said formally. Hisoka tilted his head. 

This was a butler, he assumed. Not very powerful, maybe 45 points.

The butler handed him a small envelope.

"Please follow the details listed inside carefully. Master Illumi says it is imperative."

Hisoka stared at the envelope, then raised his eyes back up to the butler with a cocked eyebrow.

This was not normally how his jobs went with Illumi. They always met together and Illumi personally explained the details to him. They call and text each other freely, after all, so what was the point of this run around?

"Alright. ♠" Hisoka agreed finally.

With a flick of his wrist, a card appeared between his fingers, and he used its Nen-hardened edge to open the envelope like a letter.

The instructions were clear, but all the more confounding. 

Hisoka was to meet with an informant tomorrow, at a different address, and give them the code "44301". That was all.

There was also a note to again remind Hisoka that Illumi would not be available to meet tonight. Hmph.

But Illumi did take the initiative to book a room for Hisoka to spend the night at… on the other end of town. Hisoka did his best not to grind his teeth—his taxi just left five minutes ago. 

The hotel better have a bar.

—

Hisoka laid in bed and stared at the clock; 11:45PM.

The only contact he had with Illumi after he arrived was texting him to tell him that he got the information for the meeting, and Illumi acknowledging it.

He didn't want to be disappointed, but he had been expecting Illumi to at least mention his birthday. Though, technically it was his birthday tomorrow and not tonight, but still.

No text saying, "Sorry to do this on your birthday weekend, but…" or any promises like "We'll go out after the job is done."?

This was all very unlike Illumi as he knew him.

Hisoka frowned. Had Illumi forgotten?

Illumi remembered last year, so it would be strange if he forgot this year, but it wasn't impossible.

Hisoka watched the clock tick past 12:00AM.

This was stupid, being upset over someone forgetting his birthday. No one ever celebrated it with him until recently, so it shouldn't bother him.

But Illumi was the only one to ever remember, so he was the only one that could forget it, too.

Hisoka groaned and rolled away from the clock to get some sleep.

—

Hisoka’s blood was boiling.

After waking up to nothing from Illumi but a text telling Hisoka to notify him once he met with the informant, Hisoka had again called a taxi and gone to the new meeting spot as requested.

He had assumed the informant may be untrustworthy, and probably powerful, if Illumi was having him go, but to his surprise, as he arrived at the listed motel room, Hisoka was greeted by a civilian man in an inconspicuous blue-gray suit with a dull, lackluster expression.

The man asked for the code, and upon receiving it, handed Hisoka a manila envelope.

"Please bring this paperwork to the address below." He said.

No fight, no attitude, no bloodlust, not even any impressive Nen or rowdy cohorts that might have had him considering to fight even if it was against Illumi's wishes! This was a trivial errand that anyone could have accomplished!

Hisoka was so upset by the insult of this mundane exchange that he failed to notice the neat line of golden needle heads sticking out of the back of the "informant's" hair.

Instead, Hisoka seethed as he stalked up the sidewalk and into a very affluent neighborhood that overlooked the ocean by cliffside.

"Calling me for a job on my birthday? Sure, fine, whatever." Hisoka ranted in his head bitterly. "But to have me run these menial little errands? A butler could have done this! At least have me fight something! ♠"

His clawed thumbnail dug into the paper of the yellow envelope as he gripped it tight in annoyance.

And that bastard Illumi hadn't called or texted him anything about his birthday all day! He really had forgotten!

It made Hisoka mad, and a little embarrassed, to have had placed any expectations in the assassin, even if he was his lover. He felt even stupider for being so upset about it, as if he needed Illumi to give a damn about whether he was born or not.

"That's what I get for expecting anything. ♠" Hisoka thought with a huff as he reached the listed residence. He didn't even bother to knock, and let himself inside.

His heels clicked on the tile floor of the foyer as he skulked into the belly of the house to look for the next stupid correspondent he was probably meeting here.

He stopped short at the sight of pastel party decorations and Illumi, standing amongst it all, with his hands up on either side of his head.

"Surprise!" Illumi said with a big smile that was disproportionate to his airy, calm voice.

"Haha, I tricked you!" He added gently with a boyish laugh.

Hisoka dropped the envelope in his absolute dumbfoundment.

Behind Illumi there were bouquets of baby blue, pink, and yellow balloons—one of his favorite color palettes—that hung on either side of a "Happy Birthday" banner that draped down the wall in similar colors.

Below the banner was a small party table, with its pastel blue skirt pinned up in intervals by soft pink and yellow pom poms. And in the center of the table was a very expensive-looking chocolate birthday cake; big enough to look like a centerpiece, but small enough to share between two.

Hisoka felt an unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling overcome him as he realized what was happening, and he shakingly approached Illumi as the latter carried on explaining without a care.

"Retrieving the envelope was just a diversion!" Illumi continued, giddy that his clever plan had worked exactly as intended. "It actually has your card—"

Hisoka grabbed Illumi by the shoulders, quickly enough to startle him into pausing his explanation.

"ILLUMI… ♥" Hisoka choked out, eyes wet. Illumi stared at his upset face with his usual wide eyes.

"Oh, do you not like it…?" Illumi asked.

That would be a shame, as he was sure Hisoka would like it. His younger brothers had always liked parties like this.

Hisoka swallowed back the emotion clogging his throat, and followed it with a hard sniff for good measure. He returned Illumi’s stare, though his eyes were bent up to fight off the mistiness that kept clouding them.

Illumi had planned him a surprise birthday party, in an expensive rental home on the coast of Kukan'yu, for just the two of them. He really thought that Illumi had forgotten his birthday, and in doing so, he played right into Illumi’s hand. Illumi got him good; some master of tricks he was!

Illumi didn't forget.

Hisoka pulled him into a tight embrace.

"You were setting this up all yesterday?" He asked, muffled by Illumi’s thick, black hair.

Illumi smiled and hugged him back.

"Mm!" He affirmed, and carried on with his explanation. "I had to wait on the balloon arrival, and then oversee the workers through the set-up in the afternoon yesterday, and there was a delay with the champagne delivery, which was very annoying, as well as having to continuously call the service desk at the bakery today because they were also over an hour late delivering this morning."

Illumi paused his rambling to peek at Hisoka, who had not moved besides pushing his face into Illumi’s neck. Illumi gave himself a self-assured grin.

"Did I surprise you?" Illumi asked, his voice as mischievous as a toddler's.

Hisoka squeezed him tighter, and after a moment, managed to pull away to plant a deep, grateful kiss on his lover's lips.

"Yes. I love it. ♣" Hisoka sniffed, then turned to pepper Illumi’s sideburn with quick kisses.

"Suki, suki, suki, suki, sukiiii-dayo. ♥" 

( →"I love you" but soft, like a crush)

Illumi gleamed at the appreciative gesture, and rewrapped his arms around Hisoka’s broad shoulders. 

"Oh good! I was worried for a moment." He sighed contently, completely unaware of the turmoil he had caused.

—

♥ Epilogue:

Hisoka sank further into the rolling bubbles of the jacuzzi. He watched the sunset stretch over the horizon line of the ocean from the comfort of the vacation home's private balcony, and from the comfortable embrace of the hot water, and his hot lover, who was just as naked as he was.

Illumi puffed a relaxed sigh, and leaned further into Hisoka’s embrace.

He was glad that his efforts had paid off, and that Hisoka was pleased and cuddling with him now. Hisoka had stalled his invitation for sex right after the surprise, which was very unexpected, but his worries were eased when Hisoka suggested this instead. Illumi had never been met with anything less than overt enthusiasm when he was the one to initiate, so for a moment he was worried Hisoka was unhappy with him.

It was quite the opposite of unhappy, unbeknownst to Illumi.

Hisoka cradled Illumi closer and carefully slid a wayward strand of his long, wet hair back into place. Illumi hummed approvingly from his resting spot on Hisoka's collar, and Hisoka pursed his lips with a blush.

He felt silly.

He felt bubblier than the jacuzzi, or the champagne sitting nearby.

He wasn't even really in the mood for sex, which was so surprising that he couldn't even bring himself to explain it to Illumi, instead shying away from the other's inviting words and proposing this alternative instead.

There was no way he could coolly explain that the only thing he really, really wanted to do tonight was hold Illumi close for as long as time allowed. Teasing about taking a naked dip in the hot tub was the closest that he was getting to that confession.

Hisoka stroked more of Illumi’s hair back, and drew lazy circles over the smooth skin of his shoulder blade. He felt Illumi smile, and pouted over the heat that reaffixed itself across his cheekbones.

He was so happy, so content. It was really unlike him.

There was nothing he would rather be doing on his birthday than reclining with Illumi like this.

"Hmm, ah…" Illumi mumbled as his thoughts started up again. "Is there anything specific you would like for dinner?"

Illumi tried to sit up, but Hisoka coaxed him back into lying on him. Illumi smiled in amusement.

"There are several acclaimed restaurants close by." He resumed from the nape of Hisoka’s neck. Hisoka's lips squirmed again, and he set a kiss onto the crown of Illumi's head.

"I don't feel like going out…" He answered reluctantly. 

He didn't want to move from this spot. He didn't want to stop holding Illumi, who cared for him and took him into consideration. Illumi, who remembered his birthdate, and made such an effort to make him feel special.

That's what it was, Hisoka realized with another shy sigh.

He felt special.

He felt special to Illumi, specifically.

"We can order take-out then." Illumi suggested it like a solution to a math problem. He moved to reach for his phone, but was again enveloped in Hisoka’s arms and dragged into a tender hold.

"I'm not too hungry yet..." Hisoka tried as an excuse. "I would rather stay here for longer."

Illumi's black eyes stared up at Hisoka from below his chin. He was acting very unusual, almost submissive, but he supposed it wasn't a bad unusual, so Illumi let it be. 

"Alright, then," Illumi pressed a kiss to Hisoka's neck, unaware of the agonizingly blissful expression the act garnered.

"Happy birthday."

[tiktaalic]

im moving to dfw from seattle this summer. impart your wisdom, if you would

It ROCKS to live in a real city. The factory in deep ellum in Dallas is a lovely little music venue. Denton’s a college town so it has a killer music scene. Bishop arts district was lovely when I was a kid idk how it looks in the last decade tho. Whataburger is Fine but the important thing is it’s open at 2 am when you’re drunk. The Fort Worth zoo is better than the Dallas zoo and it’s one of the best in the country. Carshon’s is an awesome Jewish cash only deli over by the zoo. Dallas has the biggest and first half price books store and across the street is a little family owned German restaurant where they play accordion on Friday/sat nights. I never kicked around in Dallas too much but Fort Worth has a pretty robust museum district. The Amon carter ROCKS it’s a free art museum with a bunch of classical exhibits and you only have to pay if you want to see some specific temporary installation. I saw Judith slaying holofernes there (not there anymore) it fucking rocks. Honestly I don’t find the stockyards that impressive I would just spend the $12 bucks on the cowgirl museum or some other western museum there are plenty. The perot is awesome and in Dallas. The stock show is fine it’s like any other little fair/carnival. Good way to kill a weekend if you need to kill a weekend. The state fair is crazy go see that thing. Oh there’s a beautiful on the water sculpture let me find it hold on. The fair park lagoon.

It of course goes without saying that you can’t throw a rock without hitting a restaurant that’ll blow your dick off. Ummmm. If you’re driving in Dallas. Stay safe out there. Anecdotally I’ve seen more drivers weave like assholes in the pnw but Dallas is sometimes a 90 mph minimum in the right lane kind of situation. BUGS ARE REAL ! You will hear cicadas for the first time in your life it’s a beautiful summer experience. Skeeter spray a must if you’re outside after like 5pm. There’ll be like PSAs on billboards or mailing adverts about How To Prevent Mosquitoes. Basically don’t have any standing water in your yard and you’re good. House geckos :-). If you’re in the city you don’t have to worry about ticks or snakes but they do exist and are something to be wary of if you’re ever called to tromp through the woods. You are going to find summers unbearable. Everybody’s gonna have AC you’ll be fine inside but you are going to complain about triple degree summers and how you can’t go outside. Nothing to do about that one except carry around 64 oz ice water to drink and pour on your head. Liquor laws are stricter which means no hard alcohol in gas stations / convenience stores / grocery stores you have to go to a liquor store. Also you can’t buy alcohol before noon on Sunday. Oh my god. The sun. You’re going to see the sun soooooo much. And there’ll be thunderstorms! Also Dallas Fort Worth Are two different cities 45 minutes apart that you have to drive through Other real cities to get to each other through. Seattle on the left DFW on the right. For comparison.

Also like. You know how the i5 corridor is like. Okay I’m driving through the woods for 3 hours and seeing a town every hour I can get gas 10 exits from now. Highways in texas between Dallas and Fort Worth are like ok I’m driving past flat yellow field and there’s a gas station at every exit for the next 30 exits. Different if you leave DFW! You can get empty field stretches coming in and out of houston and on your way to west texas and pretty much any drive longer than an hour that’s not. Straight from Dallas to Fort Worth. I loveeee the local public radio station. KXT I still listen to it in my car daily. Um. That’s my list of #cultural differences. And places to go 👍

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Flower, My Flower

→SUMMARY: The long-awaited prequel of Loki, My Loki where Loki and Y/N share a final moment before deciding what to do for their relationship

→PAIRING: Loki x gn!reader

→WARNING: break up, angst if you can count that as warnings, some typos, Frigga is here??

→NOTES: It is longer than I thought I would write, but I really got into it.

The night quickly shrouded the living room in darkness as the night was exceptionally long this time. For they were looking as a small portal opened behind them. Swift on their feet, Frigga enters, her pale purple robe sweeping the dust on the hardwood floor.

'Frigga.' Y/N said, their voice miniature at the goddess standing before them. 'I was expecting-' 'Loki. I know, and that is why I am here before him.' 'Is he okay?'

Frigga remained quiet while she sat on the nearest sofa, crossing her arms on her knees. 'He is fine. Odin and I made the decision...'

Y/N knew what she meant. Loki was describing each time they were alone. The next King. Loki being burdened with the glorious purpose he carried on his shoulder. Frigga sat down with an uneasy motion looking at the human who stole his son's heart with no knowledge of how much they took.

'Loki is about to be King. And I desired to talk to you about it.'

'I know Loki explained all about the coronation. The house is starting to feel crowded.' Y/N laughed awkwardly  

The evidence was clear. Frigga saw the ancient books stacked on a table with Loki's most unlikely, unquestionably invention, bringing all of his study material into his home. She could feel his scent as if he was here, but beats before her, she could see Loki's helmet shining in the bedroom, even when shrouded in the night light. Looking back at her ring-decorated fingers, the All-Mother speaks, 'The problem lies with-'

'Me.' Y/N spoke with a subdued undertone with a harsh tone. Frigga exhaled heavily 

'Yes. Mortality is-'

'I know, I, Uhm, always knew it would be.' Y/N halted to take a deep inhale, her voice starting to show cracks. 

'I just didn't think it would ever end.' Her eyes glazed with a shine of vulnerability that Frigga knew all too well. Sometimes, she saw when Thor broke up with Jane, inevitable heartbreak.

'Does Loki know?' Y/N asked, looking at the floor.

'No...he does not. I wanted to talk with him about it, but unfortunately, he is too involved in everything and would not comprehend if I said it. Therefore...'

'I should break his heart…' she asked with uncertainty dripping out her mouth.

'Yes.' The answer turned the uncertainty into realization. She had to do the thing she swore to Loki under the starry skies that she would never do.

'I don't think I can do that.' Y/N spoke words brokenly, their hands gripping the shirt on them, clutching for dear life. The gaze falls flat, reminiscing instantly with all memories with Loki. His first carnival, Y/N's first ball in Asgard, Loki's first dinner experience at 3 am, Y/N's first Asgadrain botanical garden walk accompanied by private orchestral music as they walked around... The memories rang throughout Y/N's head, cementing themself and inflating her decision more,and more,and more...

'I really can not... I love him.' looking at Frigga, Y/N saw the crooked smile and held back tears in All-Mother.

'This is for the better, darling. You will age, and he will remain the same.'

'But why can't I be with him until I end?!' Y/N voice raises, the room tensing 

Frigga stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder, explaining loudly enough for Y/N to look at her. 'Because for Loki to become a King, he has to marry a royal of eternal blood.' 

Y/N comprehended there was no way for them to be together, no way to change Frigga's mind, no possibility for them to run away as it would all deteriorate Loki from his rightful path. 

'We-we love each other.'

'Everyone gave up on love in their lifetime for a greater purpose.' 

'Mother...What are you doing here?' Loki's voice rang through the room, alarming both Y/N and Frigga. Loki sees Y/N teary eyes and Frigga's fallen smile. Striding towards Y/N, he hugs them, bringing them close to his heart. The comforting action before would make Y/N smile but now, feeling as if this would be the last one Y/N shattered, sobbing into his chest.

'Why did you tell her?!' Loki snapped at his mother.

'She had to know. It needs to be done.' Frigga trekked back, waving her hand up, disappearing, and leaving them alone. 

Y/N pulls back, whispering, 'Your mom is right. We could never be together.'

Loki replied wholeheartedly, 'She doesn't comprehend our love. We have an agreement.'

Y/N whimpers glimpsing into his blue pleading eyes. 'What does our plan mean if we cannot be together... I want to marry you, Loki,I really do. But before you met me, you wanted to be a King. You can do so much more as King of all the nine realms. I carry no power of any kind, and I can't offer you much.'

'That is utter nosnense, Y/N!' Loki spoke with his harsh commanding voice as his hands caressed and soothed Y/N's back. 'No one in all the nine realms could give me the support and love you have given me. I want to be King, but...I want to be yours as well, and it extinguishes me that I have to choose. I want to be the King and offer you a life of no hardships, no pain, and no sad tears. I want to offer you the whole universe.'

Pulling away, Y/N sniffles, 'I want to see you on the throne. I want to see you fulfill your dream that you told me so much and long about during our nights together. I want to make sure that you are happy with someone of eternal blood and continue your life-'

'-Y/N?! What are you saying??'

'I have never met someone who loved me with every single breath in their soul like you did, Loki. I will never forget you.' Y/N's body is giving out the strength to stand, falling short. Loki also kneels, cupping her face, his thumb landing on her trembling lips. 

Loki knew. That all the moments he had with Y/N are coming to a standstill. His actions and powers died down watching his love and reason he lived carrying their soul out. He had to say something for both of them to give them hope this time.

'Y/N! This is not the end! Wait for me, please. I will never marry or love anyone else but you. You are my eternal love. I will find a way.'

I will find a way.

[wraithsoutlaws]

From the soft otp prompts & for the bbs ☺️ 3 & 4!

3) Write about your ship holding hands in a tense moment / 4) Write about your ship holding hands in a happy moment.

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Blood exploded from Dagger’s mouth and he saw stars for the second time as Dum Dum knocked him on his ass. The constellations mocked him in a dim flicker above. For a moment he couldn’t move. That chrome fist shattered a tooth–not for the first time, though depending on the outcome of the night, it could be the last. He didn’t think Dum Dum would kill him. He may have underestimated him until now.

Before his vision had time to clear, he felt himself ripped upward, heaved into another punch that left him coughing, choking on his own blood.

“I trusted you–” Dum Dum spat. His voice sounded like a car crash, and he hit just as hard. Dagger’s skin split open above the eye, and his left optic turned suddenly to static. The seven red lenses staring down at him overtook what was left of his blurry vision. He could barely make them out in detail, just the bleeding glow around him like watching the world through a rain soaked windshield. “You never gave a shit about any of it!”

His tone shifted. There was a human crack in the words that sounded foreign on the otherwise mechanical growl of his voice. Dagger felt it like a knife in his chest, wedging him open. Something else he wasn’t used to.

His lungs heaved with heavy breath. Voice wet and ragged. 

“You ever hear about the scorpion and the frog–”

Blood sparkled on chrome knuckles and Dagger’s hand came up on instinct to stop the incoming blow. The impact radiated down his arm but his fingers tightened and he held true. It might be the last time he’d ever feel that touch. Part of him wanted to remember. A fingertip brushed across the scarred metal of his hand and Dum Dum went still, like for a moment the rage fell way to something softer.

They were never very good at softer.

Dagger’s grip tightened suddenly, savoring the feel of him one more time before he sent his free hand flying into Dum Dum’s face and knocking him sideways.

He forced a smile tight over dripping red teeth. Wild as a dog. 

“Is that the best you got, tin man?”

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Dagger scanned over the horizon, flat land dusted with the setting sun. He’d purchased the lot on a deal. Holding a man at knifepoint makes negotiations smoother–something he’d learned long ago. Twenty miles out and you’d hit Vegas, but it was quiet here and empty. Nothing but sun-bleached barren road, forgotten and neglected by anyone who wasn’t Raffen. He had no problem dealing with Raffen. They’d learn soon enough where they sat on the food chain. 

His eyes dimmed automatically against the golden light as he tried to picture the sprawling carnival set so clearly inside his head. It’d take time, years maybe, but it was doable.

He heard the dirt crunch behind him and turned. Even those blaring red eyes paled in comparison to the sun. 

“You ever imagine I’d go legit?” He asked as Dum Dum stood beside him, stretching out the cramps in his legs. The truck sat on a ridge a few feet away, a veil of dust filling scratches in the paint. It was a long drive out, but they were home.

He shook his head, tone flat. “I never imagined you’d live past thirty-five.”

“Well, I am a man of surprises.”

“Hard to figure, though.” Dum Dum took a step forward. “You finally choose to spend a fortune and it’s five miles of fucking sand. ” 

He knew Dum Dum didn’t share the same longing for the wide open. He watched him scratch at the vents of his cyberware, brushing out the dirt trapped inside. 

“You just ain’t picturing it,” Dagger said, determined. He threw an arm over his shoulder and pointed him toward the west. “That right there’s where we’ll have the stage. Good music, not that fucking laser pop electric shit.”

He heard a laugh at his ear, and turned to the right, pointing out an especially flat section of desert. “That’s where the haunted house will go. Behind it will be the coaster. Biggest one on this side of the continent.” He was grinning now. The structures were clear in his vision. It finally felt real.

“You sound like some shitty salesman.” Dum Dum quipped.

“Bite your fuckin’ tongue,” Dagger shot back with a playful grin. He walked a few steps over, leading Dum Dum with him, where he drew a line in the sand with the tip of his boot. 

“And this will be our door.”

“Our door?”

“Our trailer.” There was an innocence in his voice he couldn’t quell. 

Dum Dum looked at him, smile creeping over his lips. 

“I figure you’d prefer solid walls to a tent.” 

He examined it again quietly. The image in Dagger’s mind was so vivid, had been for a long time. Longer than he realized now that he was here, and it wasn’t the stage or the haunted house that made the bats in his gut fly wild. It was him. And it wouldn’t be the same if he was gone. Dum Dum stepped through the imaginary threshold and looked around, gazing at the promise of what might be. 

“Place is a fucking mess,” he joked, as if standing in the middle of a crowded room.

The bats fluttered through him gentle.

“Some things never change.” He joined him inside, surrounded by the shared daydream. His hand inched toward him, glancing off the edge of his fingers before a pinkie linked gently around his own. The rest followed like dominoes. It was the only time Dagger’s chrome hand felt like flesh again. Dum Dum’s grip tightened around it.

Some things never change.

Some things do.

“C’mon,” Dagger said, hardly more than a breath. “I’ll show you where the bed goes.”

[hojiteaversion]

DLS Characters as Classical Music Pieces

Laia: Um. I was just gonna say it's really graceful and elegant, but Wikipedia says: "'Le cygne' illustrates the fleeting nature of beauty with its interpretation of the legend of the 'swan song'". So, uh. Guess it fits!!

Millie: Mischief and chaos. Clownery. Buffoonery.

Vlad: The kind of piece you'd find in one of those "pov: you're waltzing with your soulmate when you realize they came back wrong" playlists, probably

Leo: Yeah, it's soft. Yeah, it's complex. Yeah, it makes you wanna cry. Yeah, it's beloved. Leo Nolan!!

Sandra: ...Listen, it's what Sandra deserves! To rule a beautiful land of sweets, and to end the night with her beloved, dancing to one of the most beautiful musical pieces ever made. She is a magical sweetheart. She deserves the world and the Tchaikovsky masterpiece!!

Noe: Mischief and chaos. Clownery. Buffoonery.

Hasan: I think this one has strong moments, and then there's a bit of a lull, you know? Anyway, I like to think that represents those years he was dead dead

Mehmed: It just sounds like someone who has secret nefarious plans. And, I'm not gonna lie, this one kind of reminds me of The Imperial March, and that guy was good by the end too, so, it fits! Plus, it being a waltz mirrors Vlad's piece 😉

[sweettoothvn]

How would the cast (mainly the LI) react if I put them by surprise a diadem with dog ears? For carnival and they'll be matching MC

Ah you must be talking about Mardi Gras!

As for the diadem are you referring to the Jester's cap? Or perhaps a regular crown? Regardless here are the reactions:

Andre thinks its adorable and would love to put it on, he thinks its even cuter that you're matching with him!

Casey is absolutely excited and wants to customize it with his bedazzler

Chrys is going to tease you a bit, asking if you have a tail to go with it.

David immediately smacks it out of your hand with a flat 'no'

Eddie puts it on but whines and complains about it the entire time.... but he seems okay with wearing it indoors when it's just the both of you.

Kieran puts together an outfit with what you gave him, planning one out for you and bringing you to Lousiana to get the full Mardi Gras experience.

Noble is honored that you thought of him and adores that you're both matching. He keeps referring to you as his 'puppy' the entire night and is more protective than usual

Zach doesn't know much about Mardi Gras but he knows that the biggest parties celebrating it happen in Lousiana so of course he'd want to take you-! He thinks the hat is adorable but he's a bit shy since it draws attention to himself. You guys might spend the rest of the night indoors when Zach gets scared by drunkards.

[baocean]

SOMETHING LIKE THAT - JOHN B ROUTLEDGE

Pt 3 of country songs series

John B Routledge x kook!reader

Summary: Both you and John B are forced to go to the fair by your friends, not knowing it would be a weekend you wouldn't forget.

Warnings: swearing!

Your plans for Labor Day was to lay by the pool and fall asleep, not attend the fair the island was hosting to raise money to help clean up after the storm.

Because you were turning into college applications soon, you volunteered to do a lot of clean up the first few days after the hurricane hit. You had spent all of your summer so far helping clean up the island, you wanted to relax.

You even told your friends, Abby and Jahnia, you would not be going to the fair days ago but still, they showed up at three all dressed and ready to go, wondering why you weren't.

John B was being dragged by the rest of his friends. He thought it was a perfect day to go out on the boat. He thought this fair was a waste of time, the money raised wouldn't go to their side of the island anyway.

When he and his friends finally arrived at the carnival way past the time they wanted to, Kie hurried to get in line for tickets. The three boys followed her over. John B was falling back, scanning the crowd to see if anyone was as lamed out as he was, when he saw you.

You were standing just a few groups in front of him, in the ticket line. You were talking to a brunette and redhead girl, throwing your hands around as you spoke.

He swallowed thick at your skirt, a simple, flowy, white one that was so short he wobbled.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, turning away from your friends and finding John B's eyes. When he realized you had caught him staring, he wizzed around to talk to Pope and JJ.

"Dude, that super hot girl over there is looking at you." JJ leaned in to tell John B about the way you were staring holes into his head. You were convinced he could feel it.

The boy you had caught staring at you was actually really cute, you thought. His hair was longer than his friends and sort of messy. He was wearing a white crewneck and a pair of khaki shorts, he wore a bandana tied up around his neck.

When he turned around and looked at you over his shoulder, it was your turn to blush and turn away.

"Go talk to her, JB. It'll give you something to do while we deal with Kie." Pope said, Kie turning around with a sour look.

"Nah, no." He pushed his friends suggestions off, still watching you.

When you walked off with your friends, you gave him one last glance over your shoulder and gave him a smile.

It was in the line for one of the food trucks when John B finally had the guts to talk to you.

"What are you going to get?" He was behind you in line and you turned around, confused at first.

When you saw the boy from the ticket line, you lit up. John B's heart rate picked up.

"Probably just a lemonade. You?" You answered.

He shrugged, trying to read over the menu. When it was your turn to order, John B paid for your lemonade and got himself a hotdog.

The first bite of his hotdog landed on his sweater and you let out a laugh. "Fuck." He muttered. He looked up at you, his cheeks turning pink. John B thought you were going to think he was a loser. You thought he looked cute.

The sunset on the water was gorgeous. The two of you snuck away from your friends to sit on the dock near the venue. John B was so nervous, he had been acting like a super gentleman the entire night, hoping to get even a kiss on the cheek from you.

You would grab onto his hand or make him wait as you re applied your lip gloss and it would make him go wild. It was your tan line from earlier in the day that really made his head spin.

As he skipped rocks out onto the water, you watched him. You thought he looked so handsome like that. His dark hair was tucked behind his ears, his tongue sticking out just a little as he tried to concentrate. John B was trying to make the flat rock bounce at least four times.

When you kissed him, he thought to himself that if he died right there, he would be perfectly okay with it. Even if he never got to see a rock skip four times, he would be content. It was perfect, the sunset was coming to a close and the fireworks were starting. You were feeling the same way as John B right about now.

You and John B spent the rest of the two summers you had left together. It was hard to be with John B in the winter since you guys went to different schools and you were so busy with extracurriculars. At eighteen, you went off to different colleges. John B stayed close to home with JJ, you went to New York City for Law. As much as you wanted to stay together, it was hard. It wasn't much further past your third week in NYC when you both decided to call it off.

It was year before you started Law school at UNC. You decided after a long four years in the city, you were meant for the beach. You, Abby, and Jahnia were headed to Mardi Gras as congratulations gift to the three of you for making in through college.

Getting through security had been a nightmare, having to get padded down twice. After grabbing a snack, the three of you were finally boarding your plane for your vacation.

You saw him before he saw you. When you saw the familiar brown locks and freckles, you lit up.

"Hey, stranger." You spoke.

He looked up, confused at first, but saw you and a face of comfort replaced him confused expression.

"Bet you don't remember me." You laughed and he joined in , shrugging.

"It's what, only every other memory?" John B answered.

You looked down at your ticket and located your seat, right next to him. Silently thanking whatever higher power put you two together, you slid into the empty seat next to him.

The flight to New Orleans was filled with the two of you catching up. He caught you up on all his crazy memories from college and you told him about your hard classes.

You touched on when the two of you first met, how he had the red stain on his sweater, he informed you that he never got that stain out. In the back of John B’s mind, he didn’t want to. It reminded him of you.

He told you he was going to grad school at UNC, the same place you would be attending Law School.

By the end of the two hour flight, you felt completely caught up in each others lives. When you told him you were flying with Abby and Jhania, his face lit up. He told you he was meeting Pope and JJ.

Spending Mardi Gras together was exactly what the both of you needed. Spending it with an old friend.

It was night time, the party still full ablaze. John B was watching you smile and dance, he thought you looked so perfect. It was when you turned to him and held your hands out for him to dance with you was when he realized he still loved you.

All that time he spent with you all those summers ago, all that time he loved you.

The heart does not forget something like that.

You weren’t on the same flight back, it didn’t matter though. You had all the time in the world to spend with John B.

…..