#Johnny's energy was just seeping inside of me

[mooseyspooky]

November, 1983

Edge Hill University, Picture by Adam Marsh

Source

[edutainer2022]

Inspired by conversations with @janetm74, here's a little thing based on the idea some time very early on in Jeff's fledgling business phase and before nuclear power got banned, and when the kids were small, the Tracies and the Van Arkles of the Uranium Empire might have been in each other's orbit through mutual acquaintances in high places. This was supposed to be nothing but laughs and wee shenanigans, but hey! Some angst and foreboding seeped in.

BEFORE THE DARK

The dinner ran it's course all the way to coffee and cigars at a drawing room overlooking the gardens of the Creighton-Ward manor. Just as the conversation shifted inevitably on to new bills regulating the nuclear energy production and radioactive ore mining, as well as the looming possibility of a big war. The men stayed standing in a close circle, voices hushed and tense.

Summer evening in the British countryside peeked in through the glass terrace doors with wiffs of the warm wind, infused with birds chirping and gleeful shrieks of children, playing outside, finally free of the formal confines of the dinner table. Jeff Tracy brought his little platoon of sons over to visit Lord Hugh. The Van Arkles too had their young son and daughter in tow. The elder boys, by the sound of it, were now wreaking havoc on the immaculately manicured lawn. The Tidy Twosome, at least - three year old John and Penny - were quiet and primly engrossed in a mutually fulfilling task of navigating a picture book.

The sudden patter of little feet on the terrace tiles and a painful yelp interrupted the cadence of the talk, as a five year old Scott ran inside - all wild blue eyes and windswept curls - made a beeline for his Dad and hid behind Jeff, hugging his knees for extra protection. Jeff barely had a chance to glance down at his (usually) fierce and fearless eldest, as the latter was closely followed by a tiny running girl, brown hair in two matching pigtails, now askew, brandishing a pool noodle about twice her size. The girl was eliciting something closely resembling a war cry. Jeff could feel Scotty squeeze himself into the adult's leg tighter. Jeff reached down and hoisted the boy up into his arms. He saw Willem Van Arkle do the same with the girl, who was yet to relinquish her weapon and waved it dangerously close to Scott's head. Lord Hugh was exercising all of his aristocratic poise not to laugh out loud. Jeff tightened the hold on his son.

"What's going on, Bluejay? Didn't I tell you to look after Virgie and Johnny after dinner?"

Brilliant blue eyes grew even wider, if it were at all possible. Scotty squirmed in Dad's arms to point outside, then at the militant girl.

"I WAS, Daddy! SHE wanted to hit Virgie, but Mommy says I should never EVER hit a girl so I created a dive... diva... diverzhon and she HIT ME!"

Lord Hugh gave up and was laughing by that point, trying not to spill vintage cognac on an antique rug. Jeff tried, unsuccessfully, to school his face out of an amused smile.

"SHE is Marion, right Scotty?"

"Yes, sir."

Van Arkle Sr. was frowning worried at the girl in his arms.

"What did we talk about, missy? We're guests here. We don't go hitting people."

Little Marion appeared less amenable to the idea and directed a glare at Scott, more befitting a mortal enemy than a preschooler. Both fathers put the kids down at that, but Jeff made sure to requisition the pool noodle from a grumpy Marion.

"You two go outside now and play nice. Bluejay, you make sure Virgie doesn't wander off and get lost in the park, okay?"

Scotty sketched an eager salute and beamed up at Jeff.

"K', Daddy!"

Ever the southern gentleman, he even offered a hand to the young lady. Marion contemplated his open palm, a little sticky with freshly mowed grass, slapped it forcefully and took off running outside with a yell:

"Tag! You're IT!"

Never the one to turn down a race challenge, little Scotty was sprinting off in a second, hot in pursuit. There soon was a sound of kerfuffle in the garden maze. Apparently Marion's brother and Virgil had joined the fray.

Van Arkle and Lord Hugh collapsed into the leather chairs, both sniggering. Jeff spared another moment scanning the far perimeter of the spacious grounds, making sure he didn't need to intervene.

"Told you, Tracy, the kids would take it on like a house on fire."

"That's one way of looking at it."

Jeff turned back to face the two men, steel eyes going a shade darker. Lord Hugh's face hardened as well.

"Now, gentlemen, what do we know about Bereznik repurposing those old nuclear warheads?"

Children's laughter drifted back inside through the open doors, but the air got chilly before impending dark.

[angeliqueiguess]

“Focus!” (j.jh)

017. talk warnings: swearing, kinda short.

When Y/n arrived at the building, she swiped her card through the reader, and the door clicked open with a soft sound. A wave of nervous energy rushed through her as she crossed the threshold.

“Stay calm,” she whispered to herself, trying to regulate her breathing while making her way toward her brother’s office on the far side of the building. “You’re just here to get what you need, then you leave. That’s it.” She repeated the mantra under her breath, as if saying it enough times would steady her nerves.

When she reached the glass-paneled door, she paused. Through the glass, she saw Jaehyun sitting in one of the office chairs, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. As if sensing her presence, he looked up, and their eyes met. For a moment, time seemed to slow. His stare was different—deeper, more focused. It wasn’t the casual glance she was used to; it felt deliberate, like he was really seeing her for the first time. Her stomach knotted, but she pushed the door open anyway. Jaehyun straightened in his seat as she stepped inside, her silence heavy in the air between them. The room felt thick with unspoken things, the tension hanging like a fog.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Jaehyun said quietly, his voice lower than usual. The weight of the moment was palpable, as if they were both tiptoeing around landmines. Y/n inhaled slowly, suppressing a sigh.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she replied, her tone cool. Trying to break the ice, she added, “How’d you get in?” He simply gestured toward Johnny’s special keycard resting on the desk. She nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. “So? What’s this about?” she asked, hoping he’d cut to the chase.

Jaehyun shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the desk as if the scattered objects might give him the words he needed. “I have to be honest with you,” he began. “This isn’t just about Ashley... I wanted to talk to you.”

Y/n sat down in a nearby chair, though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. His presence was overwhelming, like a pressure she couldn’t escape. “You tricked me into coming?,” she said narrowing her eyes, irritation seeping into her voice.

Jaehyun ran a hand down his face, frustration flickering across his features. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear.

“No… it’s not like that.” He paused, exhaling slowly. “Trying to talk to you—really talk—has been harder than I thought. I didn’t know any other way to get you here.”

Y/n frowned, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Then stop circling around it and say what you need to say. Why am I here?”

Jaehyun hesitated, visibly struggling with the words. She crossed her arms, feeling trapped. Being alone with him for this long felt foreign—too close for comfort. Ever since the incident that made her cut him off, they’d never spent more than twenty minutes in the same space without someone else around. And now that they were alone, it was stirring something she couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t want you handling this,” Jaehyun finally said, tension lacing his words.

Her confusion deepened. “What do you mean?”

“I already talked to Johnny—he’s taking care of everything,” Jaehyun added, his gaze dropping again, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. Y/n tilted her head slightly, studying him. He always did this—avoiding eye contact, deflecting.

“Ashley didn't want to do the session, so she ruined it” Jaehyun admitted, and Y/n seized the opportunity.

“And you just let her?” she shot back, disappointment and anger threading through her words. She opened her mouth to say more, but Jaehyun raised a hand, cutting her off.

“No,” he answered quickly, as if trying to stop the conversation from derailing further. “I left with her to convince her to come back, but she refused.” Y/n let out a sharp exhale, disbelieving. She stood, not to leave, but to pace, the frustration buzzing in her chest. Jaehyun watched her move, uneasy but maintaining his composure.

“Johnny’s handling it,” he repeated, as if that would magically fix everything.

“Then why the fuck are you telling me this?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air, exasperated.

“Because you work here...,” Jaehyun said with a sigh. “And because I needed to talk to you.” Y/n let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“It’s amazing,” she said with a smirk, stopping mid-step to look directly at him. “Every time we talk, you somehow find a way to get under my skin. Tell me—do you do it on purpose?”

Jaehyun held her gaze for a beat too long, as if searching for the right thing to say. But Y/n was already bracing herself, arms crossed, her breath uneven from the swirl of anger and confusion inside her. Every conversation with him felt like a game she couldn’t win, leaving her off-balance, like they were speaking different languages.

“I want to apologize,” Jaehyun said at last, his voice soft but steady, as if those words alone could erase everything—Ashley, the session, the years of unresolved tension between them. For a moment, Y/n was stunned. Hearing him say that was so unexpected, it threw her off. “Please, Y/n… sit down,” Jaehyun added, his tone gentle, almost pleading.

Her heart pounded in her chest, emotions welling up faster than she could contain them. She pressed her lips together, needing space—needing air.

“I just... need a minute,” she whispered before turning on her heel and heading toward the patio. The glass door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jaehyun alone in the silence of Johnny’s office, the weight of his words lingering in the air.

“I’ll wait,” he murmured to himself, almost as if trying to convince himself it was the right thing to do.

She sprinted outside, the cold air hit Y/n’s face, but even that wasn’t enough to calm the storm inside her. She leaned against the railing, struggling to breathe, as if her lungs couldn’t quite expand fully. Does he really want to apologize? The thought gnawed at her. Or is this just another way to mess with me?

Memories crashed into her—fleeting images from their teenage years with Jaehyun and her brother, moments she’d tried to bury but that now surfaced uninvited. Shared laughter, innocent jokes that now felt laced with hidden meanings. And worst of all, the memory of him walking away, leaving her behind.

The nostalgia didn’t warm her—it stung, making her feel raw and exposed. Vulnerable. And she hated it.

She knew this moment would come eventually, but not like this—not so soon, not so overwhelming. Jaehyun’s words kept echoing in her mind, unraveling her thoughts, making her feel like she was slipping, losing control.

Fuck...

Just as quickly as the panic rose, it began to ebb. Clarity washed over her, silencing the voices in her head. She knew, then and there, that she couldn’t keep running. It was time to face everything she’d avoided for so long. Straightening her posture, she took a deep breath, finally feeling the cool air fill her lungs completely. Her gaze shifted back to the door she’d just walked through. And without a second thought, she turned around and headed back inside.

This wasn’t just about him anymore. This time, it was about her.

---

prev//next masterlist.

Angie's note:this is getting juicyyy, sorry for the cliffhanger (i'm planning to post another one after this hehe) As always, i hope u liked it and i hope y'all doing great and taking care of yourselves <3

Taglist @apolloxxivmin @milanco @sibwol @neocupidd @minkyuncutie @miniature-tragedy @injunnie-lemon @kodasity @kukkurookkoo @cryingforjae @tenjyucat @aerivrs @chan-yeoldelling @thegracerammy @livingdoll-hara

[iamveronica]

SO MUCH TO UNPACK in the above clip from the 1985 Unreleased, Unedited Private Interview with Morrissey & Johnny Marr • Moz calls meeting Johnny the Awakening • "i was so impressed and infatuated that even if he couldn't play, it didn't matter" [i am trying to imagine a world where Johnny can't play guitar (the horror!) but it "doesn't matter" and his function in the Smiths is what, sitting looking pretty? being attached to Moz's hip?] • Moz positively gushing about Johnny being a happy-go-lucky person • "he came at a time when i was deeper than the depths, if you like, and that gave me a massive amount of energy. i could feel Johnny’s energy just seeping inside me" Johnny was his happy pill... until he wasn't

[hxt1b]

Clingy

Johnny x Reader

Requested Prompts 65 "you're my favourite" 68 rainy day

Genre: Angst, Established Relationship AU.

WC: 1.1k

Masterlist

requests are closed for the rest of the month.

Please excuse any grammatical error, I didn't have time to go in and fix much.

The rain was pounding on your window in heavy sheets. If you tried to look out the window you could see nothing but the blur of water.

Your phone was buzzing as Johnny called you for the fifth time in a row, yet you couldn't come up with the energy to answer him. You were afraid if you did you would cry.

The only thing your brain was able to do was replay the moment over and over in your brain.

"Why can't you hang out with us later?" You heard Taeyong's voice ask. You were a little bit down the hall, his voice coming from around the corner.

"Y/N," Johnny replied, his voice sounding tired. It made you stop in your tracks, you couldn't explain why but something in you told you to wait and listen.

"Again?"

You couldn't see Taeyong's face, but you could hear the eye roll accompanied with his word.

"Don't you think she's a little clingy?" Taeyong asked Johnny. Their voices nearing but you weren't able to move.

"Sometimes" Johnny replied. Their footsteps echoed closer and closer.

You blinked quickly, trying to subside the anger that rose to your head accompanied by the sting that you hated in your eyes.

You turned and quickly walked towards the exit of the building. You couldn't let him see you like this. Not that you wanted to see him.

Your room was cold, you wanted to move underneath the thick blanket you had on your bed but you couldn't. Somewhere inside your brain, a voice let you know that you were overreacting.

You didn't know if you agreed or disagreed yet. You were still pissed.

If Johnny didn't want to hang out with you, he could say no. He wasn't obligated to see you. You weren’t holding him at gunpoint if he said no. You werent crazy enough to expect him to give all his free time to you. He does that himself. To agree with his friends that you were clingy was absurd. And rude quite frankly.

Your phone rang again, obviously, it was Johnny. This time you answered.

You didn't speak after answering the phone.

"Y/N where are you?" Johnny asked, his voice irritated. You huffed at his words, rolling your eyes even though he couldn't see them.

"Home." You replied, your voice emotionless.

"Why?" He asked, his annoyance very clear, "We're supposed to be going to see a movie today."

"Well, I wouldn't want to be too clingy." You answered, then hung up.

Swiping to your messages app you sent Johnny a text telling him to leave you alone before you put your phone on Do Not Disturb.

Finally, you moved so that you could pull your blanket over yourself and buried yourself into the fluff of your bed to sleep.

Except that you couldn't actually sleep you were too mad still. So you laid on your bed staring at your ceiling fuming about being called clingy.

An hour later a loud knock shook you out of your sombre state. You furrowed your eyebrows, already knowing who it would be. So you took your time getting to the door.

When you opened it, Johnny was standing there. His hair was all over the place like he'd been pulling at it. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his sweats and his eyes were fixed on you in annoyance.

His anger seeping out from him, as he stood in front of you in his six-foot-tall glory glaring down at you, and you glared right back.

"You can't just put your phone on do not disturb and ignore me like that." He pushed past you into your apartment, leaving you at the door to glare at his back. "And you can't hang up on me like that after making no sense."

You rolled your eyes at that. How could he not know what you're talking about?

He stopped a couple of feet away from you, biting the inside of your cheek you rolled your eyes at him again and walked past him towards your living room. Aiming for the couch.

"What is wrong with you?" He demanded following behind you.

"Oh nothing, I'm just trying not to be clingy."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" He asked his anger coming out in his words.

"It means I'm giving you space to let you hang out with Taeyong." You burst out. "When I came to pick you up I heard you and Tae talking, he called me clingy and you agreed."

Johnny blinked at you. His lips twisted into an unimpressed frown.

"You're pissed about that?" He asked. You rolled your eyes at him for the third time in the past five minutes.

"Roll your eyes again babe, and they'll fall out." He commented, "also if you're gonna eavesdrop listen to the whole thing before you run away. I didn't agree with him, I said sometimes you are clingy but I'm much clingier."

You looked at him, you weren't entirely convinced and Johnny could tell from the look on your face.

"I mean come on babe, I make you do something with me practically every day."

Your anger fizzled out at his tone. Johnny didn't needlessly lie, so you couldn't see why he'd lie about this.

"You swear?" You asked just to make sure.

"I swear." He answered.

You let out a long sigh, "Well I'm sorry then. I overreacted."

Johnny nodded at your words, but slipped onto the couch next to you anyway, his hand pulling your body into his.

"Can we watch a movie now? I've been looking forward to watching a movie with you all day."

You chuckled lightly but nodded, leaning forward to grab the TV remote. You passed it to Johnny so that he could pick a movie.

"I am sorry I acted like that Johnny." You apologized again as you settled into his side, pulling a blanket over the both of you.

Johnny kissed your forehead, "it's okay we all have our crazy moments."

You leaned away from him a little bit, frowning, as he smiled down at you.

You shook your head at him, "I hate you, Johnny." You grumbled but moved back to let your head rest on his shoulder.

"I love you too, Y/N." He muttered softly in your hair. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, that was the first time either of you had said it.

You smiled as you watched him continue to scroll through the movies. You would say it too, but you'd say it after the movie, right now you hated him after all.

-neocain

[joongsfavedenim]

it’s like part of me must want this // johnny

pairing: johnny x reader

genre: light angst, suggestive

words: 1k

author notes: i don’t write reader fics very often anymore, but this one has always stuck with me for some reason. also i’ve never posted my writing on tumblr and i’m kind of nervous??? anyway feel free to let me know what you think or come find me on instagram ! & song inspo: slow grenade - ellie goulding

Johnny (6:37pm): hey, Taeil told me you were back in town

ynnie (7:13pm): fck I’m never talking to that mf again

ynnie (7:14pm): bitch can’t keep a secret

Johnny (7:22pm): i take it you don’t want to see me?

ynnie (7:28pm): unfortunately it’s quite the opposite

Johnny (7:31pm): what nights are you free

ynnie (7:34pm): tonight?

Johnny (7:35pm): i’ll see you at mine then

//

“Wow a doormat,” you marveled. “Who lives here— the mayor?”

“Are you trying to clown me for buying a doormat?” Johnny asked, shutting the front door behind you. The scent of his home came to you gradually, as if your body was adjusting to being here again. It was the kind of smell that you wouldn’t be able to describe to another person if they asked— it was just...Johnny’s house. And, as you insisted that you were merely just proud of him for the doormat, the scent of your past continued to envelop you.

“Do you mind if we don’t do the small talk thing?” He reached up to brush a bit of dust off the top of a nearby bookshelf as you stood together in his living room. “We already know everything that there is to say.” Johnny’s voice was quiet, bordering on sheepish. But you both knew he was right. By coming here, you had again acknowledged the sickening need you had for one another.

You took in a shuddering breath, watching him. The energy that had been building in your chest on your drive over here still hovered underneath the surface. Your expectations were buzzing and your senses alight. “Don’t you want to beg me? The way you did last time?” you started, taking a small step toward him. “While I tell you over and over again that we’re bad for each other and that we shouldn’t do this?”

He said nothing aloud but the pleading in his eyes mirrored yours. You let him move toward you another step. The brief moments that your eyes peeled away from his gaze were used to drink in the details of him: the curved corner of his mouth, the soft pieces of dark hair that had fallen away from his face.

“Do you want me to beg?” He was close enough now that you felt the air of his words on your face.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. “You know you don’t have to.” You reached for Johnny’s wrist, making first contact. “We both knew this was inevitable.” The last few words were muffled by his sweater and, thank god (or whoever), you were finally lost in his arms.

Getting to the bedroom had always been just as fun for the pair of you as actually being inside it together. “Wait,” he breathed, tickling the hairs on your neck as he pushed you into the wall of the stairwell. He lengthened his arm out, separating your bodies as ragged breaths fell from both of you. His palm was in the center of your chest, gently holding you in place. Your eyes involuntarily closed a few times - your nerves so full of disquiet that it almost made you drowsy.

“I can barely look at you,” you admitted, choking slightly on the words. The magnetism between you continued to tug at you in the pit of your belly.

Johnny whispered something and you cut your eyes up, catching the outline of his lips in the low light. The blood rushing in your ears finally cleared as you caught the last of his sentence: ...basically, I’m addicted to the way you look at me. A warm rush of adrenaline crashed through you, but you stood where he held you — mutually captivated even as the subtle poison of this reunion had started to seep into your bodies.

After you had sex, you were the first one to insist that this time was the last time. A few hours later, when your bodies were tangled in the sheets for a second time, you had both opened your mouths in the same moment to agree that it was really over for good. But even now, as you watched Johnny’s chest rise and fall under the blue glow of the television, your body ached for him from across the mattress.

The dependency you had bred was so ingrained in you that it felt just as natural as breathing at times, yet it felt like a new discovery each time you indulged in each other. Which is why, as his finger innocently grazed your prickly thigh, you decided that it was worth it.

The high of being with him was worth every tear you would shed on your way back home. Worth every sob stretched out across the highways that increased the distance between you with every passing moment. Worth every heartbroken text you would receive from him over the next few weeks until you lost touch again for a while.

Around four in the morning, Johnny rolled onto his side and, as he had done countless times, drew you into his arms. He placed his chin on the top of your head, chuckling softly. “Keeping your lips a safe distance away,” he explained.

You joined him in soft laughter. “There is no safe distance for you and I,” you spoke quietly.

You felt him still, his chest going rigid against your back, perhaps from the weight of your words. And it may have been a stifled sob that you heard next, or he could have just been clearing his throat, but either way, that was the end of your conversation. And the last sound you would hear from him for some time.

When you gathered your things in the morning, he had already gone. He left a somewhat warm cup of coffee for you in the microwave as well as a note telling you how to lock up, despite you having done it regularly in the past. The following days you spent in your hometown were numb, and the only thing you could feel was Johnny’s absence.

About a week later, after you had returned home, the next step of the cycle began.

Johnny (12:21am): missing you sicks

ynnie (12:40am): you mean sucks?

Johnny (12:46am): must be the beers

Johnny (12:46am): yes I meant sicks

Johnny (12:47am): s u c k s

ynnie (12:49am): youre cute. and it does suck.

Johnny (12:54am): im sorry

ynnie (12:58am): no, please don’t be. you’re everything.

ynnie (12:59am): we’ll find our way back.

ynnie (12:59am): we always do ♡

//

[leggomylino]

Dark Rising☽✮☾Act One

☽✮☾ Dark Rising Masterlist ☽✮☾  

Genre: Horror/Thriller, Drama, Romance, Comedy

Pairing: NCT’s Johnny Suh x fem!reader (x ???)

Word count: 5.9k

Warning(s): mentions of blood, yandere-esqe themes, cuts/injuries, soul stealing and kidnapping. Possibly more in the future depending on what the original authors decide. They write for ot9 and so do I.

A/N: Main Masterlist in BIO! | This is a spinoff series to the SKZ fanfiction Twisted Karnival, by @gaiyofanfiction​. It can be read alone, but you are encouraged to read the original story first. At the authors’ request, I will take this down if asked to do so. I do not own Twisted Karnival or Stray Kids, or Johnny Suh, or any characters used in this. All credit goes where credit is due. The events that happen in this story are not canon in the original story, this is simply a work of fandom and appreciation, and thus will tie into canon events as closely as possible in respect to the original works. All that being said… Thank you. <3

IMPORTANT -> (** This story picks up after the events of Twisted Karnival, Chapter 6. While this can be read as a stand-alone fic, better understanding can be found upon first reading through T.K. Ch. 6. Please support the series! ♫)

~  ☽✮☾ ~

A cross necklace, and a whistle. That’s all you had to defend yourself.

The sky was dark outside the main tent, the walkways bare and lifeless. A cold breeze swept up from the South, adding to the chills that threatened to tear you down where you stood like a hazardously put-together Jenga tower. One wrong tug, one sudden misstep, and you would be a heap at their disposal...they being the nine demonic beings encircling an unfortunate young girl who couldn’t be far from your age.

You were watching now from the back of the tent, through a small flap that had been open to allow air to circulate after the events that had taken place. It wasn’t nearly large enough for a person to fit through, about the size of one’s head, with a slit of velvet and silk curtain separating the back passage from the main stage. You’d lucked out, really, that one of the younger demons had come tromping by complaining about the humidity and had opened it for your eyes to witness.

Though in some ways, you really wish you hadn’t. You felt like you were going to be sick, seeing this poor girl bruised and crying, blood seeping down her arms and through the rips in her jeans.

“Hey, come on. It’s going to be okay. This is why you’re here.”

A hand fell lightly on your shoulder from the man beside you. You looked to him with clouded eyes and doubt in your heart, before turning back to the scene unraveling before you, whilst your fingers toyed with the chain and pendant around your neck.

You weren’t sure where it had come from or why you were here. But apparently that’s what this man, Johnny, was for.

Let’s back up a bit. Okay, picture this: You were just a regular girl minding your business, walking out from your part-time job to go straight home like the good student you liked to think you were, the only thing on your mind the leftover BLT waiting for you in the fridge, when you’d come across a crowd buying (or rather, receiving free) tickets from two dangerously handsome (and somewhat scary looking) strangers. Life had been peachy before all of this; sure, a little stressful balancing a life that consisted of school, a job, and a small almost non-existent social life, but hey, it wasn’t bad. 

That’s when he’d first showed up.

“Suspicious, isn’t it?” He’d asked, staring into the crowd with his hands in his deep dark trench-coat pockets. He’d completely snuck up on you, appearing out of nowhere to your right and effectively scaring the daylights out of you. And you’ll admit, you let out a noise that wasn’t exactly...ladylike. Something between a “bwarf!” and a screech. It’d managed to turn a few heads nearby, but Johnny, who you hadn’t known was his name just yet, only pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he said, training his eyes back on the growing crowd. His face went from lighthearted-borderline amusement to vacant and dim.

“Do you see all these people here?”

You stared at him a moment before following his gaze, a frown encasing your lips. Who did this guy think he was, first scaring the daylights out of you and now trying to strike up a conversation and keep you from that delicious leftover BLT calling your name? “Uh...yeah…” Slowly, you turned your head back up to face him, brow arched. “...I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Nah. But I can fix that.” He held out his hand without taking his eyes off the wavering crowds of innocent bystanders, a faint smile taking over for the hair of a second as he introduced himself. “Call me Johnny. It’s a pleasure.”

“......” You stared at his outstretched hand for an awkward moment too long before hesitantly grabbing it, shaking it once, twice, before becoming...pleasantly aware of how incredibly soft and warm his skin was, and the comforting pulse that radiated through your whole body. It soothed each ache and pain from the day’s toil like an iron over a smooth silk sheet. Every wrinkle and crease had vanished.

Woah...it’s like...I feel like a totally new person...where did all this energy come from?

...Observing him in awe, you’d almost forgotten to give him your name in return, gaping up at him as you were like a fish out of water. “...U-Uh...I’m--”

“Y/n,” he stated, matter-of-fact. Your eyes went wide. 

What the heck? “...How did you know…?”

“Shhh,” he kneeled down to be at eye-level, for he was an incredibly tall individual. A typical dark, mysterious, handsome stranger all the girls in high school dream of encountering, except he couldn’t possibly be a bad or dangerous guy...in fact, you couldn’t help but want to cling to him. It was crazy, but just being within eyesight was enough to make you feel safe. Which was odd...and crazy. Definitely crazy. It didn’t make any rational sense whatsoever. Which is why you found your body taking the smallest of nudges and half-steps closer to his side, to this man you knew nothing about save for his name and the fact that he made you feel nearly invincible by some nameless sorcery.

When he leaned down, his cheek was practically against yours. Despite feeling safe, you began to sweat.

Johnny pointed far out into the crowd, where the two gothic-looking boys in strange but attractive attire were shouting and waving flyers around, passing out tickets in between, some yellow, others black. Each of them looked charming and genuine beyond belief. Heck, you wanted to buy a ticket from them too; and maybe a lunch date.

You held up a hand to point as well, trying to remain as discreet as possible. “Those guys?”

Johnny nodded, lowering your arm slowly and moving to stand behind you. You would have been weirded out and panicking had you not felt so unusually calm and comforted by his presence. Seriously, something is up with this guy. I don’t know anything about him and yet...ugh, it’s like I’ve known him my whole life. Talk about cringe...

He placed his hands over your eyes, and you closed them on instinct. You didn’t have time to question, and again, you found that you couldn’t, anyway. Somehow, something deep inside told you to trust him. “Now,” he continued, “when I count to three and let go, you’re going to see something that isn’t so pretty. But don’t be alarmed, they can’t hurt you. I promise that nothing you see can hurt you. This is really important, so I’m going to repeat it again, because the last human I said these words to nearly had a heart attack because they didn’t listen: I promise, nothing you see can physically hurt you. Understand?”

You began to squirm, growing more impatient by the second, what with your stomach growling and all. “Yeah, yeah, I got it already! I’m waiting!” ...That BLT wasn’t gonna eat itself, y’know? But really, at the same time, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted him to let go. 

But then he reached a final count. And he did let go, slowly as not to startle you and give you time to adjust.

What you saw was a thing of nightmares.

The sky had grown dark, blood red shrieking at you from behind pitch black clouds. A scream caught in your throat; you were too speechless to move, or speak, or do anything but stare in absolute horror.

The people around you had all become vessels. They were still human, but...different. Rather than solid beings, they’d become hollow and see-through, as if they were made of mist or steam. Everyone had a light at their core, which instinct told you was…

...Their spirit. It’s pulsing with energy and life.

Some were dull and barely hanging onto life. Others were bright and vibrant, bursting with color and joy. Many were somewhere in between, balanced and average, each telling a new story, a different tale; a little girl worried about starting kindergarten, a man who was down on his luck and endlessly searching for a new job. A woman who’d just gotten engaged, a teenager wondering if he should risk punishment bringing the stray cat in his bag home. Everyone had a different story, varying concerns, sadness and joys.

But there was one in particular that was a conundrum. It wasn’t necessarily good, or bad, or anything like the others: what it was was pure and vivid beyond belief. It was almost blinding, but...there was a film around it, choking out the light. A ball of white light encased in a mist of thick, gray fog. The demons were eyeing it like a rare delicacy they’d been deprived of for years…

And it was emanating from a young girl, who couldn’t be any younger than you.

And then you’d gasped, because that’s when you realized what they were. Demons. Monsters. Vile creatures targeting humankind. There were two of them-- the well-dressed boys from before. But they’d changed now, those innocent young men long gone, left behind to shadows and ancient rust. Their true appearance...or whatever this was...was too terrible to describe. It was worse than any horror movie you’d been forced into seeing.

The thing that made it worse was that it wasn’t a horror movie. This was real.

The scream in your throat had long dissipated into empty gapping and heavy realization, and it was at this point Johnny must have decided he wasn’t very good at first impressions other than the whole making-you-feel-safe-with-a-simple-handshake-and-being-within-eyesight, because the next thing you knew he’d spun you around to face him, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Sorry you had to see that so soon. But we’re running out of time and I know how brave you really are. I thought it’d be easier if we tackled the first milestone a little early, crash course style.”

What…?

But then he’d swiveled you back around, and everything was back to normal. The crowds, the noise, the gothic-themed advertisements. The blood-painted sky, the dark clouds, the vessels and auras and demonic dark blobs that you couldn’t get past describing-- they’d all gone, and two cheerfully sly salesmen remained, making it rain tickets and creatively crafted flyers left and right.

“What...What was that?!” You demanded, anxiety blooming late in your chest. Screw feeling safe, that was still terrifying as heck! Surely you’d fallen asleep at work and were just overtired...right? Right…? 

Maybe this was all just a dream. You’d fallen asleep at your desk again, and any minute now your coworker Chenle would be batting you with a rolled-up newspaper or gently shaking you awake if he knew you’d really had a hard day, or-- er-- and-- 

“Th-The lights and the shadowy blobs and- and all the noise just disappeared, it was so quiet, and those two--” You shivered, taking a step back and bumping into Johnny, who held you firm. “Those two...they’re...they were…”

You were beginning to hyperventilate. The man behind you sighed. “I know.” He gave your shoulders a slight squeeze, and you felt that soothing impression run over you once more, helping your breaths to relax, your pulse slowing to a steady, normal thump. “It’s exactly as you saw it. Each sphere of light is someone’s spirit encased in their aura.”

“Their...aura?” The frick was he talking about?!

“Yeah. Like I said, we’re pressed for time here, so try to keep up. A lot of people think they’re one in the same, but they’re not. Your aura is tied into your emotions, both on the surface and buried in your subconscious. It’s the bridge that connects the two. They can be manipulated at will by many factors…” His eyes landed heavily on the two demonic creatures disguised as charming young stagehands now maneuvering their way through the crowd to pass out tickets faster and with more demand than voluntary. “...But it is seperate from the spirit. Your spirit is your lifesource. It’s who you are and what defines you. Auras can easily change, but the spirit is something that takes a lot more elbow grease and determination to turn.”

“......” You hadn’t been sure what to do. What to say. You were practically speechless.

So instead you tilted your head back and asked the only thing on your mind. 

“Johnny…who are you?”

He’d only looked down on you with another guarded smile. “You’re about to find out. First, I have a job for you.”

“What? Job?” You frowned. “I’m sorry but, hold on a sec.” You pushed yourself away, but not too far, wanting just the right amount of distance from Tuxedo Mask and the Dark Kingdom not far off. “Listen, I don’t even know you, you just appeared out of nowhere and started showing me all this weird and scary stuff, and preaching to me about heavy topics, and now you want me to perform some...job?” ...You shuddered at the way it’d come out, how it all sounded. Perish the thought.

Johnny, however, remained as calm and nearly stoic as he had been this entire time, puffing his straying locks away from his face and shoving slender fingers into his coat pockets like some cool P.I. Detective...or quite possibly, Tuxedo Mask. Which is how you were slowly beginning to see him. “Perform...ironic.” His eyes flicked over to the girl with the white as snow soul, then back over to the young men (who you were just about dang near positive weren’t really men at this point), making their rounds through the continuously enlarging masses. 

The square was steadily growing more and more crowded, forcing you to close the small amount of distance you’d managed to create between you and Johnny. Suddenly one of them, who had secretly been eyeing Snow White this whole time, took off and seemingly disappeared a moment before popping back up right in front of her, engaging her and her friend in conversation. 

Meanwhile, Johnny gestured almost bluntly toward the other one, a boy with cherry red hair and fox-like features. “I want you to get yourself a ticket to the carnival.”

“You want...wha?”

It took you a minute to register those words, standing there staring off into space. But before you knew it, a spontaneous gust of gentle wind was literally pushing you into the crowd you’d previously been trying to get around and away from, thus ending the fleeting hope of sitting at home with that delicious, delectable, slowly aging BLT.

“Don’t worry, I’m with you,” the wind whispered...yeah, whispered. It spoke to you, in Johnny’s voice. You weren’t sure if that was meant to comfort you or just...creep you out that much more…not to mention you were apparently the only one that heard it.

...But you guessed you felt a little better knowing Johnny was secretly beside you-- if that really was him-- ...Wait, Johnny…?

The gust of wind that’d stolen Johnny’s voice dropped you off in a small opening a few feet away from a dark red-haired boy with a sly grin and some of the most charming dimples you’d ever seen on such an equally attractive boy, but...no, no. You weren’t going to get swept up in that. Not when you knew the truth. Something was very wrong with this picture, other than the fact this boy was actually a demon of some sort, and you suddenly (by some influence not entirely of your own) had a need to get to the bottom of it.

In the name of the Moon™, I’m onto you.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened, slightly, taking a step forward.

A new wave of ecstatic carnival-enthusiasts cut you off, swarming the young boy and begging him for tickets, lowkey sending you flying. Ouch. You crossed your arms, a huff of impatience leaving your chest--

And then it was like you blinked, and they were gone, and suddenly the boy was before you. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat. What the…?

But for a wavering moment, just one short second, you could have sworn that something passed over him. Something that had been foreign to him for many years, and had just then, for the slightest of moments, climbed back up to the surface and gotten its first breath of air in what had to be a very long time.

It was fear. Uncertainty. Caution. Insecurity...and it rippled over him like a small pebble dropped into a forgotten spring.

But it had faded and crawled back into its cradle just as quickly as it had come. “...Hello there~” the boy greeted, and the moment he spoke you felt a xylophone being played against your spine. His chords were sweet as honey, playing a siren’s tune. It made the hairs on your neck stand firm. “Are you curious about the carnival as well?”

“......” You’d time-lapsed backwards into gaping-fish mode. All your instincts were screaming at you to run away, scram, scat, get out of there and as far away from this boy, from his accomplice, from everything that had to do with the word carnival as possible, but instead, this happened:

“Um, yeah. Just one, please.”

~ ☽✮☾ ~

...And that’s how you’d ended up here, in a twisted back walkway of the infamous and appropriately titled Twisted Karnival, with what you’d soon found out to be your temporarily self-appointed guardian angel, Johnny, at your side. Because get this: he really was an angel. No, really. Wings and all. He apparently didn’t care to show them much, though…more on that later, it was besides the point. You were here, now, with Johnny, in a demon-run carnival that was all a scam to steal people’s souls for who knows what, and apparently, as Johnny had told you when you finally had managed to make it home and finish off that deliciously awaiting BLT, it was up to you to stop them.

That’s right: you. Y-o-u. A human girl that had absolutely NO connection to ANY of this shenanigans until now and would much rather be laughing at the corny overexaggerated jokes of your favorite night time sitcom but were instead standing in what was literally hell on earth.

Your eyes glanced down to the pendant nuzzled between your fingers. A gift from Johnny that he’d basically thrown at you on the way over and almost poked your eye out. Apparently, it was supposed to protect you, and so far it hadn’t done a bad job, you’d admit: “As long as you have it on you,” he’d said as the two of you skulked about the festival grounds, “They won’t be able to see you from a specified distance. The higher ranking the demon, the less effective it is. But get within three feet of any of them, and it’s game over.”

“What about you?” You’d asked, worriedly tossing glances left and right. This carnival was definitely haunted, or infested with some kind of bad juju.

He’d only smiled in return. (He did a lot of smiling for a guy so seemingly serious.)

“Don’t worry about me. They can only see me if I let them...or if I run out of juice. But don’t worry about that right now. Focus on the mission.”

...Sigh. So here you were, at last, staring into an evil tent at an evil ritual happening on evil grounds. Fun.

“Johnny,” you mumbled, gazing sadly back into the dim-auraed tent. “This necklace...you said three feet, right?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you, then back into the tent as well. “But I told you not to worry too much about it. Even if they do spot you, they won’t be able to touch you so long as you have it touching some part of your body. ...That’s really important, okay? Your pocket won’t work, a small part of it has to make contact with your skin. I’ll say it one more time, for good measure--”

“Don’t. I heard you the first time…”

Geez. Don’t worry, don’t worry. He sure did say that a lot.

“I got it already, just get to the point on what it is that I have to do with any of this. You never explained why it has to be me or why I’m here. Also, shouldn’t we be helping her right now?!”

“...No. Listen to me, be careful to never take that necklace off--”

“What do you mean no?! Are you kidding me right now?!?”

“Shhh!” He pulled the two of you down for the count of twenty rapidly-pacing heartbeats, then slowly back up when he’d deemed the coast to be clear.

Be careful, be careful… Ugh. Your questioning brow gave away your deposition as your thoughts trailed off, peering annoyed and worriedly back at nine handsome men surrounding a helpless injured young woman. “...Why would I do a dumb thing like that?” you asked, countering the previous topic. “Are you kidding me? I don’t have a death wish--”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” His face grew sad and melancholy despite the gentle smile he wore for you. At least 80% of the past few hours, anyway. “Demons are crafty. They’re clever. Though they can’t remove it themselves, they’ll find ways to convince you to do it, to expose yourself to them from the inside. They’ll get in your head and manipulate your heart. It happens all the time…it’s what they’re good at.” He scoffed a bit, nodding to the youngest boy in the circle. “That’s what happened to him.”

“What? Wait, the blob-- I mean, boy...who gave me a ticket?”

You pondered curiously at the red-headed kid with fox-like features. You didn’t know his name, so you’d decided to dub him as Cherry Boy for now. Creative, yes.

“Yeah.” Johnny shifted his weight to one side, inclining his head just slightly. “Not all demons are born demons. A lot of them were once human, or...something else.”

A heavier sadness filled his eyes, a painful memory taking place beyond them. You didn’t like the way he’d said “something else”... You started to reach out for his hand, yet decided against it. You still didn’t know him that well. 

You’d try to pry the truth out of him, gently. “Like...what?” you pressed softly.

He took a hefty breath, taking his time to single out two more of the demons you’d soon have the joy of getting to know. All in good time. “That one…and that one, over there.”

“Wait...the...tiger guy? And Freckles?” Your lips pursed. “What about them? They weren’t human?”

Johnny shook his head. “They, uh…” There was an uncomfortably long pause. His next words were so quiet, you really had to strain your ears to hear them, despite the fact he was right beside you: “...fell.”

“...Fell?”

It rolled off your tongue like a stone. Johnny began to sweat. “...From grace. They fell from grace.” He rubbed the back of his neck with equal discomfort. “It’s not something I enjoy talking about. Basically, they were tricked and dragged down to earth and…” he swallowed. “Well, one was dragged, but he’d made the mistake of giving his consent beforehand. He was fooled into a false contact. The other, he was simply fooled into coming down willingly, by use of twisted words. When the song played...it was over.”

Song? There was music? … 

…A swaying sickness of dread rushed past along the seasonal breeze. “So...you...knew them…?”

There was no answer for a long time. Johnny cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable silence, once the situation inside was beginning to look grim. Like it hadn’t already. 

“...Sort of. We were never close, being in different factions and all.”

“Factions?”

“Never mind that. You ask too many questions.” He nodded once more. “Look.”

You turned your head to peek back inside at one of the many sights you wished you could avoid and forget about entirely. (But alas, there was no way that was happening.) The girl with the white soul was now screaming in agony, and the strings that had previously been attached to her by the boys (...men? Demons?) were glowing red, then a bright, crystal blue…

And then you just knew. It was impossible to miss.

She was gone. 

The ringleader of the troupe, who the others had called Chan, paced closer to the girl, tucking a finger beneath her chin and lifting her drooping head gently, with such twistedly sickening love and care that was the largest paradox of the century-- how could it be both so loving, yet so dark?-- and dragged it carefully upward, caressing her face. His voice was as soft as silk.

“My little puppet, are you okay?”

You wanted to throw up and pass out right then and there, but Johnny held you firm again, sending his soothing pulses of comfort and security to steady you (and honestly, what a great power to have). You didn’t like it when the leader spoke. It was too...something. Just too much; it reminded you of fairytales like Snow White and Red Riding Hood, where a witch or a wolf or whoever would speak so sweetly, so kindly, and yet tear the other characters apart, ripping the rug out from under them and dragging up their virtues from the inside out. Just as Johnny had said. You could see how anyone could get lost in the distorted forest it was so easily...

A twisted grin appeared on the face of the Snow-White girl, a cacophony of psychotic laughter leaving her rose-tinted lips.

“Yes, Master Chan. I am perfectly fine.”

You shuddered at those words. It was all you could take. 

You didn’t know what came over you next, but there were suddenly twenty-seven different emotions flooding through your veins, hyping you up and tearing you down all at once. And you’d already had your time of the month last week, so that definitely wasn’t it. 

Was this it? Were you finally transforming into the Sailor Guardian Johnny had made you out to be? You wanted nothing more than to run in there, tell all those demonic freakshows what they could do with their fancy clothes and beautiful but terrifying faces, and make a 180 to the nearest hospital with the girl in tow. 

...You also wanted to turn around and run for the hills alone, with Johnny perhaps, never stepping foot on demonic carnival soil ever again. And, you also kinda wanted to puke; which you almost did, again, but thankfully Johnny whipped up some more of whatever calming magic he’d been pumping you full of almost the entire time you were here, and that chased off the sickness for another while. The two of you stepped away from the tent, Johnny assisting you to fresh (only-partially tainted) air.

“...S-So, let me get this straight…” You shook all the goosebumps out, holding your head high and proud now that you had a bit more distance between certain death and crazytown. “You want me-- me-- a normal [high school/college] girl, to go in there and...what, take down the demons? Are you serious? Is this really happening? What the heck am I supposed to do, threaten to call the police? Throw a sucker punch and hope it lands and I don’t get killed or possessed?! ...Don’t they write fantasy books and fanfiction about this kind of crap?” You sighed. “There’s no way I can--”

“Hush,” Johnny instructed, looking a bit nervously toward the terrifying mass inside. You were speaking too loudly again. “You can and you will. I didn’t just choose you at random, all of this was planned by a greater power upstairs.”

“Greater…?” ...You squinted your eyes in suspicion. “Are you talking about--”

“Most likely, yes, that’d be the one,” he winked. “Actually, my boss sent me. I sorta picked you out last minute, but you have a pure heart, and your soul is good too. You have what it takes, as long as you keep your guard up and follow my instructions, we can and will take these guys out.” He gave a thumbs up. “Sound good?”

Sound good?! ...Oh, yes. Risking my life in an insane zero-chance scenario sounds right up my alley, bro man! Sign me up!

You let out a frustrated groan, beginning to pull and mess with your hair, and Johnny once again shushed you and peered around in a tizzy. “But...I don’t even know what to do!” You put your foot down. “I can’t fight! And I...I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”

That last part had come out pretty weak. Johnny scoffed. “You don’t wanna hurt demons?” He rolled his eyes, scratching his head. “That’s a bit surprising.”

You scowled. He just chuckled and sighed. 

“Relax. You’re not totally obliterating them.” He smiled, and the next words he spoke actually brought music to your ears...sort of. Good music. 

“You’re going to save them.”

“I’m...huh?!”

“Look.” He leaned against a smaller tent behind him, making himself rather comfortable for the case scenario, and your mind suddenly wandered back to that girl inside the main tent. Was this really the time to be having an idle-- semi-kinda-serious-- chat? “I’m sorry I can’t be with you the entire time. Unfortunately that would get in the way of a lot of character development. But I’ll always be nearby.”

“Character...who...wha? ...” Your hands covered your face a moment, to which you sighed heavily into before holding them out before you. “Johnny, okay, hold on--” 

“Here,” he said, tossing something shiny into the air. You caught it unexpectedly, nearly dropping it a few times as it almost slipped through careless fingers. You stared at it hard and skeptically.

“What...is this?”

It was some kind of...whistle? “Blow into that when you need help, and I’ll come to you. But only if it’s a real emergency; it’s not a toy, yeah?”

“......” You beheld him with dumbfounded incredibility, face remaining stoic in blank confusion. “...So it’s like...a dog whistle?” You blinked. “You’re my dog now?”

“Ahem,” He coughed, clearing his throat. “...I’d prefer if you didn’t call it that, but, ...yeah, I guess. Essentially. I guess that’s an accurate analogy.”

“...No way.” The whistle went flying over your shoulder as you turned your back, beginning to take the first few much needed steps out of looney-toon central toward the safety of home. In the direction you thought was homebound. “This is insane. I can’t do it. I’m going to a payphone or home or someplace I can get a signal and calling 911--”

...But of course, a six foot wall had to ruin your dramatic and much needed escape. “Hold on…” Tuxedo Mask sighed. “Look, I won’t stop you again if you really want to go, okay? But if you do, these guys are going to continue running around rampat and steal away thousands of more innocent lives. And that girl will never be the same ever again.”

The scowl you sent him actually made him flinch a bit, though he held his ground nonetheless. “Then why don’t you and all the other angels and heavenly powers do something about it!?”

“SHHH!” Covering your mouth, he looked left, then right before releasing you, gritting his teeth in anger. “...Because...dang it, we can’t, okay?” 

...He can’t?

“Why not?”

“......” He ran a troubled hand through his neatly groomed hair. “...I mean, we can, but...we’re not allowed to influence freewill or get involved without human intervention. That’s you. It’s complicated, okay? Just...please.”

...W h a t ?

You didn’t understand any of this. He was giving you the most heartbreaking gaze anyone had ever managed to pull off on the face of the planet; like he’d just witnessed you step on a litter of puppies, or you’d taken his heart and stomped all over it and then backed over it with a steamroller, declaring that boys had cooties and you didn’t want to be infected.

“Please think about it. There’s not much time.”

“.............”

“.............”

You sighed. A long time had passed, but...every second you wasted thinking about it was a second closer to someone else’s demise, to that girl’s apparent destruction. If it wasn’t too late already.

It’s not your problem, y/n, it’s not your problem…

...Except now, it was. You’d already gotten involved just by being here, and witnessing what you had. Your conscience would never let you live that down, were you to walk away, even if it was to get the police or the fire department or an ambulance. Not if you had the power to do something about it.

 And what were any of them going to do about it, anyway? These were demons you were dealing with, not stereotypical robbers or serial killers. And even if you were just a girl...

Curse it all. DANG IT!! 😫

“...” You gulped. “...You swear you’ll protect me if I need you? And you’re not going to abandon me?”

He smiled. Yet again. “I try not to swear, but...you have my word.” He placed a hand over his heart, bowing slightly as an old-fashioned gentleman would. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t help admiring his indication and be just a bit flattered.

“And you promise I can really do this? ...Like, you...really need me for this?”

The angel’s eyes sparkled softly beneath the eerily pale moonlit atmosphere. That blood red sky hanging somewhere beneath a sheet of stars and night. “That, I can promise.” He stood up straight, readjusting his thick coat. “Boss called, said you were the one. Or, at least, you would do. I called before confronting you, to make sure.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You mean before magically materializing beside me and scaring me half to death?”

The accursed man laughed. “Yeah, before that.”

“Hnnn…” Your eyes closed. Thought for a moment.

Then you held out your palm. “...Fine, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ll help. Just call me Buffy the...Demon Slayer,” you joked, smirking at your own dumb humor. “Sailor...Y/n? ...Ugh, just give me the stupid whistle.”

Tuxedo Mask smirked again, holding it up for you. But as soon as he placed it in your hand, something...odd happened. Other than all the chaos and oddities that had been occurring for the past however-many hours or so.

A soft, hollow “boom” echoed in the surrounding atmosphere, and you found yourself looking around wildly for any means of nuclear warfare, cringing into the rising darkness. “What the heck was that?!”

“Calm down. That was meant for you. No one else could hear it,” your new guidance counselor explained. Something almost sinister washed over him for one so...holy. “It means that the game has officially begun.”

“Game?!” You practically screeched. “I thought this was serious! What do you mean, game?”

Johnny continued to smirk. “Oh, it’s serious alright.” He adjusted his coat again, turning his back to you. “We need to get you somewhere safe for the night. DON’T worry about that girl, she’s going to be fine...for now. Eventually,” he’d cut you off. “You can start whenever, but you’re probably going to want at least an hour to adjust and come up with a strategy.”

“What?! Hold it, I still have questions I--”

A stray finger waved to you over his fleeting shoulder. “Follow me. Stay close now.”

You just stood there, gaping like a fish again. A reoccurring theme to this story, you'll soon find out. “Johnny...Johnny!”

...You’d had no choice but to follow him; and so the game had officially begun.

Boom. Game on. ✩

~ ☽✮☾ ~

[lady-wallace]

Hope Springs (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Like most of my episode/chapter tags, I really just wanted to see a hug, so that’s why this exists XD

Tag to Steel Ball Run Chapter 48 (Sugar Mountain Arc) Johnny and Gyro have a much-needed discussion over a bottle of wine.

~~~~~~~~~~

Read on FF.net

Read on Ao3

~~~~~~~~~~

It was colder than the ninth circle of hell. And they didn’t even have money for a hotel now since all that they’d had they’d gotten from the girl in the woods and the Stand that held her captive. At this point, it didn’t really matter because neither Johnny nor Gyro seemed to have the will or the energy to even move from the street. They were still sitting in the snow outside of the hospital they had gotten patched up in.

           Johnny was left staring at the achingly cold bottle of wine clutched in his frozen fingers. The glass was so cold it hurt, but if he let it go, he would have to admit his hands were shaking, and he wasn’t ready to admit that. It was funny, almost hilarious, really. His hands hadn’t shaken the entire duration of the fight, he’d just been thinking about his new ability and how the hell to get out of that situation alive, attacked by a visible enemy as well as the overhanging curse of the tree. But now that everything was over, he was shaking like a leaf.

           He was trying not to think of how they had just lost everything, only the meager supplies they’d had before, left with the horses in a public stable. How they had lost all the corpse parts they had collected now, save the small bit of the spine Hot Pants had left him with. He was trying not to think about how his cheeks were streaked with tears that had frozen to his face, how he was now just as numb on the inside as the outside, because if he thought too much he probably would lie down in the snow and let the cold take him. He tried not to think about how he’d watched Gyro become covered in the roots from the tree and get pulled into the wall, wondering why the hell he hadn’t been next. Even worse, how he had, for a brief moment, almost decided to leave his friend to his fate in order to keep the corpse parts, but ultimately couldn’t stand it. He’d thought he lost Gyro back at the river too when Hot Pants had stolen their corpse parts—even as far back as their encounter with that kid with the hook Stand, when he’d almost forced Johnny to kill Gyro if he didn’t give up the corpse part. Even then, when he hadn’t even gotten to know Gyro very well, Johnny hadn’t be able to do it, hadn’t been able to sacrifice his friend even for the thing they were both hunting for. He just wondered why it always seemed to be a choice between the two.

           Johnny had the terrible feeling that he was starting to understand something. That maybe the universe was not going to allow him to have both the corpse parts and Gyro. And he really didn’t want to think about that either.

           The silence dragged heavily between them, not the companionable silences they usually had on the road or in camp at night, but a purposeful one that told of things left unsaid, dangerous things. Johnny began to feel like he was being suffocated by them, but he couldn’t quite force himself to speak first.

           Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

           “Johnny,” Gyro said after a long while, looking down into his mostly drunk cup of wine. “You know we have to talk about it, right. You know I’m going to ask you.”

           Johnny didn’t look up at him, simply clutched the bottle tighter.

           “Johnny, are you listening to me?” Gyro demanded. “You know what I’m going to ask, right? I’m going to ask you why the hell you gave up the corpse parts.”

           Johnny didn’t flinch, but he slumped further, refusing to look at Gyro’s face.

           “Well? Why the hell did you trade them for my life?” Gyro shouted.

           Johnny finally looked up at him, and turned up one side of his mouth in a grimace. “I didn’t. I told you. I traded them for this bottle of half-drunk wine.”

           “Dammit, Johnny,” Gyro growled, lowering his face into his hand, his other arm, in the sling, hanging limply in his lap. Johnny wondered if his wounds still hurt. He knew the bullet wound in his own side was just as numb as the rest of him now.

           “Dammit, shit.” Gyro continued to curse for a while under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking more exhausted than anything.

           Johnny swallowed hard and forced himself to take another long gulp of the wine, the bottle almost freezing to his lips as he did. “Come on, Gyro, finish the wine. It has to be gone by sunset.”

           Gyro just stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head in a disparaging gesture and stood, tugging his hat low over his eyes.

           “Where the hell are you going?” Johnny asked him numbly.

           Gyro spun around, eyes flashing. “Away. From you. I can’t deal with your shit right now, Johnny. This whole time, you’re the one who’s been gung-ho to get all the corpse parts—I’ve just been trying to win the race, but because of your obsession, we keep falling farther and farther back. If you don’t want to tell me why you just suddenly had a change of heart and gave them up, then fine. But I’m not going to sit around here and watch you mope. I’m grateful you saved me, but you’ll forgive me if it feels a little ingenuine.”

           He started away, hunched with the cold and the pain of his wounds and Johnny felt his heart squeeze in his chest, finally feeling something again.

           “Gyro, stop.”

           Amazingly, he did, his boots crunching one last time in the snow, but he didn’t turn around. Johnny bit his lip, knowing his friend was waiting, so he finally spat out. “I couldn’t do it, okay?” he said. “I was gonna keep the corpse parts, but it would have meant losing you. For good. And I couldn’t do that. Not again,” he added quietly.

           Gyro finally turned around and walked back over to him, crouching down with a wince.

           “What do you mean, not again?” he asked.

           Johnny turned aside, not sure what to say. He didn’t know when he’d first thought of it, maybe it had always been there, something he’d seen in Gyro’s determination, the way he treated Johnny, not like he was broken or useless, but as a friend, a partner.

           It reminded Johnny of his brother.

           He would have been the same age as Gyro too, or just about. But Johnny had gotten his brother killed, and he couldn’t…he couldn’t be responsible for Gyro too.

           “Johnny?” Gyro’s weary voice filtered through his remembered grief and Johnny realized there were tears slipping down his frozen cheeks again. He could barely feel them, but one landed on the bottle he still held and slid down the glass until it froze.

           “Johnny, what’s wrong?” Gyro asked him more quietly, seeming to see his distress for the first time.

           Johnny carefully set the bottle into the snow, choosing instead to wrap his arms around himself, trying to find some modicum of warmth.

           “I had an older brother. He died,” he said simply. “It was my fault.”

           Gyro sat there staring at him for a long moment. “What happened?”

           “Fell off his horse,” Johnny said quietly.

           “And that was your fault?”

           Johnny swallowed hard. “It was my fault for being the one who survived instead of him.”

           Gyro’s face changed, darkened. “Who the hell told you that?”

           “Doesn’t matter,” Johnny sighed, remembering how his father had kept Nicholas’s room like a shrine, never let anyone go in it, especially Johnny. Johnny, the failure, the one who could never live up to his brother’s talents. Nicholas had been the only one to ever encourage Johnny in anything and when he was gone Johnny had tried his hardest to be like him, to make his father happy, but it hadn’t worked, obviously. If anything, it had only seemed to make his father hate him more, and he’d been left with no one to stand up for him.

           Gyro seemed to somehow understand. He slid a little closer, his body blocking most of the wind, making Johnny a fraction less cold.

           “I’m sorry,” Gyro told him.

           “I couldn’t be responsible for you too,” Johnny said, voice sounding small, like, deep down, he was still that boy. The boy with a brother who loved him, who had wanted the best for him until he was gone, and then Johnny had just become the family’s biggest disappointment.

           Gyro cursed beside him. “Look, Johnny, I don’t know who screwed with your head like this, but if I die in this race—which I won’t, by the way—then I promise you it won’t be your fault. And on the off-chance that it does happen, then the only responsibility I want you to think you have is to give me an at least halfway decent burial. Maybe with pretty girls mourning me, if you can.”

           Johnny huffed a pained laugh, his breath puffing in the air. “I’m not gonna let you die.”

           “Good, that’s something we can both agree on,” Gyro said. “But hey, Johnny, stop thinking so damn low of yourself.”

           “How can I?” Johnny scoffed. “You’ve probably figured out by now that I’m not exactly worth having around.”

           To his surprise, Gyro was moving even closer, and before Johnny knew what was happening the other man had wrapped his arms around him, pulling Johnny close to his chest.

           “Gyro…” he said in confusion.

           “Whoever made you think that can go to hell,” Gyro growled close to his ear, squeezing him tighter with his good arm. “Because it’s bullshit. You are worth having around, Johnny. I never would have gotten this far without you.”

           Johnny closed his eyes as he felt Gyro’s warmth seeping into him. No one had held him like this in a long, long time. It felt nice. If he let his mind wander, he could almost imagine he was a boy again, and it was Nicholas who was squeezing him tightly as he burrowed closer. But after a long moment when their shared body heat began to warm him and Johnny thought of Gyro’s shit-eating grin as he made some stupid joke trying to get his younger companion to laugh, tending Johnny’s injuries with care and making sure he ate and slept, he decided he was okay with the here and now, and Gyro’s arms, instead of his brother’s, around him.

           Maybe there wasn’t that much of a difference after all.

           “God, you’re freezing,” Gyro told him after a long while, pulling back slightly, and brisking his hands up and down Johnny’s arms before picking up one of Johnny’s hands, the tips of his fingers tinged blue.

           “It’s cold,” Johnny deadpanned needlessly.

           Gyro reached over for his cup and downed the last of the wine. “Let’s go back to the stable, maybe we can sleep in there with the horses. It’ll be warm, at least. Where’s your wheelchair?”

           Johnny looked around, slumping in the snow. “I don’t know, I left it somewhere….”

           Gyro turned to him and held out a hand. “Don’t worry about it; we can’t use it in the snow anyway. You can get on my back instead.”

           “But your shoulder and arm,” Johnny protested.

           “Exactly, I can’t carry you any other way,” Gyro snorted. “One time offer. Make sure you help me out by holding on.”

           It took a little doing to position himself, but Johnny finally got onto Gyro’s back and the older man straightened with a grunt and started back to the stable slowly in the darkening evening.

           Johnny’s arms were wrapped around Gyro’s neck, holding on as well as he was able, and while they went, he thought about everything that had happened. For some reason, even though they had lost pretty much everything, he couldn’t help but feel a small well of hope spring up in his chest that worked to warm him even further. For the first time in a while, he actually felt like, together, they might be able to win this race.

[onewaywardwitch]

Just A Typo (3/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hacker!Reader

Summary:  It was a simple challenge between a very competitive group of friends. A challenge that ended very differently than anticipated.

Warnings: Small bit of language

Word Count: 2300

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this part. I would have posted yesterday but I spent half of last night in the hospital because my friend nearly broke my finger! Enjoy part 3!

The drive up was… strange. If I had known I'd be sharing such a small space with two Avengers, I would have used more deodorant. A silence quickly settled over us all. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. At least, it wasn’t until I asked Sergeant Barnes if he had a large magnet collection. He must have thought I was making fun of him as he huffed and stared out the window grouchily. The air was definitely tense after that incident.

The tower was different to how I had imagined it in my head. There was a lot less people around for me to gawk at. Sure, the ground floor was pretty busy with all sorts of people running around. Many of them stared at our party of three. I liked to think it was because of me, but the two super soldiers flanking me on either side made it difficult for me to keep up my pretence.

“Why does an interrogation room look more expensive than my apartment?” I whined as the Captain closed the door, leaving me inside alone. He must have sensed my nerves when we were in the lift on the way up and reassured me that they only needed to talk to me. It didn’t help.

I took a seat at the table and leaned back on the legs of the chair. Rocking slightly, I began to sing to myself, seeing if I could remember all of the words to Alphabet Aerobics. I gave up once I got to ‘H’, the boredom slowly seeping in. I resorted to pulling faces at whoever was watching me behind the glass, because surely someone was standing there.

Just as I was about to start using hand gestures to go with the facial expressions, Captain Rogers walked back in again, this time accompanied by none other than Tony Stark. Even behind his tinted glasses I could tell he was eyeing me with interest before standing in the corner of the room. It was Rogers who was left to sit in front of me.

“We didn’t get your name earlier, Ms?”

The soldier sitting in front of me seemed to be in charge of getting answers from me. I was easily more comfortable in his presence than in any of the others. I couldn’t help it. There was just something so welcoming about Captain America. “Y/N Y/L/N. But really, I was just messing around earlier. It was a stupid dare and I- “

“How long?”

I turned to Stark, who had decided to remove himself from the corner. He stood just beside Rogers, awaiting my answer. I was only starting to realise how much trouble I could be in, and I was mentally cursing Becca for putting me up to this in the first place.

“How long for what,” I asked, hoping to buy myself a few more minutes to work out a proper excuse. I hadn’t confessed to anything yet, except back at my apartment, and there's no proof of that exchange taking place. I just had to distract them for a little while.

“How long did it take for you to illegally hack into my private cameras?”

Shit. New plan.

“Is this the part where I say I want my lawyer?”

“Can you afford a lawyer?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Yes, of course. I just need to get rid of my health insurance first then I'll be good to go.”

He snorted at my comment before taking off his glasses. “It should be near impossible to break through my firewalls. Even if you were to do it, it would take hours. Days, even. And by that time, we would have your location and be able to stop you before you even finish. But we didn’t even know someone was in our system until you were already done. So tell me, how long did it take you?” Stark’s face held none of the amusement that the world was so used to seeing him with. He was all business now. And while his tone sounded threatening, there was hint of something else that I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Just over half an hour.” I gave my answer slowly, unsure of his reaction to it. I hadn’t realised just how complex the system I hacked into was until Stark’s little speech. I was always good at computers, I knew that. But I didn’t tend to show off too much. Becca, Angie and I hacked companies all the time for fun and to keep our skills up to scratch. I was the quickest out of the three of us. There was never anything malicious behind our actions. Hacking was our hobby, and the foundation of our friendship. We didn’t tend to aim for any big businesses, but we knew we were good enough for the big leagues. A lot of shady people would pay large sums of money for the skills we possessed.

Stark stared at me before leaving the room. I had nearly forgotten that the Captain was still here until he started speaking again.

“Did someone pay you to hack into the tower? Who put you up to it?”

“My dick of a friend did. But she claims to pay me in hugs. Apparently, our friendship is worth more than any amount of money. At least to her. I'm still broke, I could use some cash. I really only did it for bragging rights.”

He smiled softly at me and I instantly relaxed. Steve Rogers, all around good guy, believed me. He didn’t think I was some lunatic determined to sell all their secrets online. He asked me what I saw on the camera footage and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s just say that your Robin Hood should not be allowed anywhere near the fridge.” I winked at him, but before he could question me further, Stark returned, this time with my laptop.

I immediately sat up straighter when he placed it on the table in front of me, my fingers itching to open it again.

“My best employees have all been taking turns trying to unlock this. I tried to unlock it. You’re good, I'll give you that. But I won’t believe it until I see it.”

I couldn’t hide the curiosity that was beginning to make its way onto my face. I had an idea of what he was going to say next, and I didn’t know whether I should be relieved or wary.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hope I'm not going to regret this, but I want you to hack into my system. Again.”

I narrowed my eyes at him slightly, before biting my lip to hide my smile.

“There’s one thing I'm going to need first.”

~~~~~

“Why were we sent to do this?”

It was Bucky and Sam who were given the task of getting the pack of jellies for their current ‘guest’. After Y/N had announced that she couldn’t do anything without her Haribos, Tony had sent the pair to the nearest store without questioning any of it. She refused to even open the computer before they came back.

“I don’t get why Tony is so worked up about her,” Sam commented nonchalantly, walking down the aisles.” She doesn’t seem like anything special.”

But Bucky couldn’t disagree more.

He found her more interesting than he cared to admit. The energy she possessed had a youthful and carefree tone, and her smile was infectious. Since he had joined the Avengers not long ago, people had been treating him with caution. He tried to ignore it, but it was difficult when everyone around still acted as though he was the Winter Soldier instead of just Bucky Barnes. The Avengers themselves were fine, it was just the rest of the world. He had a feeling that people would take a long time to accept him, if they ever did.

But Y/N had looked at him with respect when they first met. Awe. Maybe even admiration, he hoped. All that hope quickly disappeared when her nerves settled in as she began to understand the reason for their visit. Her smile fell and for some reason, Bucky couldn’t help but find himself feeling guilty for being the cause of it.

“Hey! Earth to Barnes, you with me?”

Bucky was jolted back to reality by Sam’s loud voice and large hand waving right in front of his face. He mentally cursed himself for zoning out completely and followed Sam to the cashier to get the sweets this strange woman apparently couldn’t do anything without.

~~~~~

Stark had been patient, I'll give him that. It was just us in the room and I'd been wasting my time, opening the jellies far slower than necessary, spending too long chewing on one cola bottle, until he finally had enough. He opened my laptop and gave me an irritated look.

“Now.”

I could tell he was beginning to think I was just pulling his strings. That I hadn’t really done anything spectacular. That I was just the face of the operation, not the brains.

“Well, call your bomb squad Mr Stark, cause I'm about to blow your mind.” I smirked back at him in response and popped another jelly heart into my mouth.

Within a few minutes I found myself in the same position I was in earlier. Except this time, I was sitting with Tony Stark instead of my misfit friends. And I was much more prepared this time. I knew his system better now, which definitely worked in my favour as I tried showing off my skills. I was better prepared for the defences he had set up and after nearly forty minutes, I had accessed not only cameras, but Stark Industries’ private server and F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s server too.

I cleared my throat as I pressed a small speech button in the corner of the screen, hoping it was what I thought it was.

“Here’s Johnny,” I said in a low tone, hearing my voice echo throughout the room, and I assumed the whole tower as well. When I looked up at Stark he was focused completely on my laptop, a small yet noticeable smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t think I've ever had to say this before, but could you explain how you got through those last few firewalls? Slowly?”

After showing him what he failed to comprehend (!!!), I switched my attention to the footage coming from the cameras around the tower. I felt Stark leaning over my left shoulder, determined not to miss what I was doing. It was only mere seconds before I had the footage I was looking for. It didn’t him long to realise what he was looking at. There on my screen, were many of the Avengers, crowding around a glass window through which I could see myself and Stark.

I looked up and waved directly in front of me, where I now knew Dr Banner was standing. I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled by the audience I had attracted. All I had to do now was wait for Stark to realise I'm not some threat that needs to be eliminated, and I could go back to my life of cheap wine and pining over fictional characters.

“How would you like a job?”

That’s the exact moment I felt betrayed by my beloved Haribos as one got stuck in my throat and I began choking violently. Stark watched on in amusement and I gave him a thumbs up while my face got slightly redder.

I was not expecting that.

I didn’t get a chance to reply to the sudden offer, before Black Widow herself practically stormed into the room and dragged the billionaire out.

It took a few minutes for my brain to catch up with my eyes and my gaze finally snapped away from the door that was slammed closed only moments ago.

“What is happening?” I cried out, allowing my head to just drop onto the table in both confusion and exhaustion. I had momentarily forgotten that my laptop was still in the room with me.

I lifted my head up quickly and began typing to gain access to the sound in the room hidden in front of me, as well as the video footage.

“What were you thinking?” Romanoff was seething.

“I was thinking that no one has ever done that. Ever. Did you see how quickly she accessed everything? I was thinking that I'd rather have her on our side than not.”

My eyes flickered from the faces of each of the Avengers, trying to figure out where each of their thoughts lay. All their faces showed varying degrees of anger and apprehension except for one. Sergeant Barnes didn’t look concerned, just intrigued. The fact that there was one person who didn’t disagree with Stark gave me the confidence to press the speech button once again.

“Sorry to interrupt.” All of their faces snapped up to look at me almost instantly. “But my rent has gone up and I wouldn’t say no to a bit more cash. If it makes any difference, I promise I'm not part of some covert foreign intelligence group. Plus, you kind of owe me. I'm most likely fired from my actual job because I didn’t show up today.”

Stark gave his friends a pointed look before speaking out loud.

“Perfect. You’re hired, kid.”

Natasha turned and spoke to him quietly.

“I know I can’t stop you, Tony, but don’t be surprised if this bites you in the ass.”

While I watched him leave that room, only to enter my own a moment later, the rest of the Avengers filed out. All except Bucky, whose gaze remained fixated on me.

 Taglist:

(if there’s a strike through your name it means I couldn’t tag you)

@amybarter15 @imperialoath @throw-some-music-my-way @mamaraptor @marbleowl @lydklein1 @wantingtobekorra

[tempestaurora]

WHUMPVEMBER #18: HOSTAGE

cute one today! AO3 KO-FI

It happened in less than a minute.

No build up, no monologuing, no preamble. One minute they were sitting in a diner, and by the time sixty seconds had passed, Peter was on the floor, there was mass panic and puddles of blood were seeping out across the black and white tiles.

Tony was on his feet then, forcing himself to look away from Peter’s prone body – there were still guns shooting, still screams echoing. He couldn’t get stuck on Peter when the building was going up, so as he removed himself from the booth, he pulled his watch into the emergency gauntlet, metal unfurling and slipping into place around his fingers. It was good for maybe three blasts, the repulsor that sat against his palm now. Three blasts and five men with guns still firing.

He shot the first one in the aisle between booths, watching them forced back into the host’s stand by the door. Tony ducked as a gun turned on him, the windows shattering as the bullets flew through the air, right where he’d been standing.

“Get on Stark!” someone yelled.

He put six and nine together in a heartbeat, staring into the eyes of a petrified woman beneath the booth he was hiding by. A diner he visited every Wednesday with Peter. Not being surprised by his presence.

They came for you, asshole.

He was up on his feet a moment later, jumping onto the booth and over the fake plant divider that ran the length of the diner. On landing, he rolled, shot with his repulsor at a gunman, sending him straight back into a table and chair that collapsed under his weight.

A bullet shot straight past his face and he swore, ducking away. Tony threw a nearby chair at the man who’d shot him, stopping him for just a moment before darting over and yanking the handgun he was holding.

Tony shot him once through the shoulder and a second time through the calf. The guy sprawled and Tony watched the blood spurt for only a second before he was turning, searching.

Five guys. There had been five guys and he’d only taken down two.

Then: Peter.

“Mr Stark!” Peter’s voice called out from across the restaurant.

Tony ducked down, making his way across the room via the guy he’d dropped near the door. With the gun raised, he moved out into the aisle where he saw Peter on his feet, an arm secured around his neck and a gun pressed firmly against his temple.

Bad guy number four.

Where was number five?

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, the back of his mind whirring through seven problems at once. When would the police get here? When would help arrive? “Come on, let’s not shoot a kid.”

Tony and Peter met eyes for a moment, and Tony couldn’t figure out what message to send to him. Be calm? You’ll be okay? I love you? The last one flew in and out of his mind too fast to catch or analyse, which was fine, because this was no time for analysing.

“Stark,” the gunman said. “Me shooting this kid is the least of your worries.”

It would never be the least, Tony knew. But there was a lot of other worries surrounding it, namely how he’d get Peter out of the situation, and how he was already bleeding profusely from his right shoulder, where a bullet had already pierced into his skin from when the gunners had initially entered.

Peter’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught and a second later he was shot through. He’d dodged, minutely, and it meant all the difference. The bullet would’ve gone straight through the centre of his chest if he hadn’t.

“I’ll be honest,” Tony said, his gun trained on the two, “you holding a kid hostage is pretty high on my list.”

The gunner smirked. They hadn’t even bothered to wear masks. Just cold blue eyes and a plain, regular face – like he could be anybody on the street.

“His name’s Peter, right?” the gunner asked. “Cute name. Cute kid. Won’t make a cute corpse.”

Tony was already stepping forward. “Don’t you fucking-”

“Let’s not, buddy,” a voice said behind him, and Tony felt the weight of a gun barrel press against the back of his head. Tony swore under his breath. “Gun, Stark. Give it.”

Tony met Peter’s eyes again. Be calm? You’ll be okay? I love you?

Tony Stark was an intelligent man, and an intelligent man could run the scenarios. He could see it playing out before him, moment by moment: he could refuse, shoot Peter’s captor and die – but Peter might make it out. He could give the gun over and be shot by his kid’s side. He could give Peter the all-clear to fight, and maybe then they’d both die, but maybe neither of them would-

No. It was too risky when there were guns to their heads to make Peter move. He wouldn’t make it.

Slowly, Tony held up the gun, pointing it to the ceiling and removing his finger from the trigger. A hand stretched out and took it, Tony’s hands wide open and raised in surrender. Outside, police sirens were nearing. Tony looked around the room in desperation for something to use, something to help – but all he saw were dead bodies, pools of blood and the scared eyes of the trapped civilians, watching Tony and Peter be held at gunpoint.

“What do you want?” Tony asked. “What can I do for you to let us out of this?”

The gunner tilted his head. “You think we want money?”

“I don’t know,” Tony replied. “You must want something.” Everybody wanted something.

Tony Stark wanted his fucking kid to be okay. Tony Stark wanted to live a good, long life with his fiancé, Pepper, and the kid he considered his son, Peter. Tony Stark wanted to feel peace right in his core.

But Tony never was one for getting what he truly wanted.

The gunner let out a bark of laughter and Peter winced as the barrel was pressed harder against his temple. “Say goodbye to Peter Parker,” he announced, “because the only thing we want is for you to be dead.”

Tony’s body went cold. There was no negotiating with people who wanted nothing other than your head on a stick.

“If you kill me, will you let him go?” Tony asked.

“Mr Stark-”

Tony spoke over Peter’s plea. “Let him go, come on. Let him leave. Then shoot me. He’s not the one you want.”

“He’s not,” the gunner agreed. “But he should at least watch you die, don’t you think?”

“No,” Tony ground out. “Let him go.”

He knew what the answer would be before it was said, so he let the words wash over him instead. They weren’t letting Peter go because Peter was going to die right after Tony. Tony was supposed to be their main event and Peter would be their encore.

Be calm? You’ll be okay? I love you?

“Peter,” Tony whispered.

“That’s it,” the gunner behind him purred. “Say your goodbye.”

He didn’t want to do what his soon-to-be killer said, but he didn’t want to lose this last moment with Peter. Not when he couldn’t think of an escape plan, not when it was still formulating in his mind, and they might not make it out of this-

Be calm? You’ll be okay?

“I love you, kid,” Tony said, meeting Peter’s eyes. “You mean everything to me, okay?”

Peter began to nod before the gunner’s arm tightened around his throat. One of Peter’s arms was soaked in blood, twitching – probably nerve damage, Tony thought – and the other was reached up, his fingers digging deep into his captor’s arm, but not so much that he’d retaliate and shoot.

“I’m sorry, Mr Stark,” Peter said, and Tony thought he might just fucking cry.

“Take that back,” Tony replied. “We’re not doing death bed apologies.”

The metal of the gun was so fucking cold on the back of his head.

Peter whimpered. “I was the one who broke the toaster.”

Tony almost laughed. “What?”

“The toaster. At the compound. It broke last month, remember? You ended up blaming it on Vision? That was me. I put too much in it. I was shooting for the stars and I missed and the entire thing set on fire – it was a disaster.”

Tony did laugh this time, but his head butted against the gun when he did so and the noise died in his mouth.

“I love you, too,” Peter said, like an afterthought.

Then Tony moved.

His plan was half baked and fucking stupid but he couldn’t think-

There were no better options. There were no answers here. They were either dying together or he had the goddamn chance to get them out alive, and Tony would take every minuscule chance he had.

They were here for him, not the kid. The least could do was try. For Peter’s sake.

All at once, Tony used his gauntlet’s last charge on the man holding Peter and ducked to the side at the same time.

All at once, Peter yelled and two gunshots went off in tandem.

All at once, Tony span suddenly, sending a punch into the gunner behind him and slamming their head on the table as a body thumped to the ground where Peter and the gunner stood.

Tony turned.

“No.”

He lurched down, ducking beneath the bullet that flew from the still-standing gunner, snatching the shiny, silver handgun that had been pressed against his head. Tony shot back, fast, the bullets landing solidly in the man’s chest, one after another, blood splashing as his body twitched, falling back against a table.

There was silence among the people of the diner, accompanied by a crude mix of police sirens from outside and an old Johnny Cash song playing over the tinny speakers.

“Peter.”

The gun in his hand clattered to the floor and Tony ran, skidding on his knees to Peter’s side where thick crimson blood was spilled across the ground. The booth he laid next to was splattered in it, a fucking Pollock painting of his kid’s insides.

“Peter.”

Peter’s eyes were open, but barely. His breathing was slow, rattling. There was an open wound in his shoulder, entire arm stained red, and there was another only a few centimetres away-

“Shit, kid, no, no, no-”

There was an entrance and exit hole.

Blood drooled out of Peter’s mouth and he coughed with the last slithers of his energy. Red came out, drenching his face.

“Ambulance!” Tony yelled. “Someone! Help! Get me an ambulance!”

Tony’s hands shook as he looked over his kid’s body. Peter drew in a breath and immediately choked. What was he supposed to do? The entrance and exit hole weren’t things he could just press and hold onto- no, they were in his neck.

The bullet had gone through one side and shot out the other side of his throat.

Peter Parker was drowning on his own blood and Tony Stark had no fucking idea of how to help.

Red and blue lights flashed, turning the scene in front of him neon and strobed. Peter, one second, red, then pale, then blue.

“Kid, kid, please,” Tony whispered, his hands finally finding purchase – one on Peter’s side and the other cupping his face, his cheek, his hair. “Please. Please don’t do this. Hold on. Hold on, someone will help.”

Be calm. You’ll be okay. I love you.

Peter’s lips moved a tiny amount, like he was trying to speak. His eyes were focused only on Tony, though they were close to closing, and Tony watched as his mouth filled slowly with blood that he’d have no choice but to swallow or breath into his lungs.

“Peter,” Tony whispered. “Peter.”

Peter breathed in the blood then spluttered it all back up. He took the moment after he recovered to breath something imperceptible.

“What? Peter?” Tony lowered his ear closer to Peter’s mouth, and waited, watching out of the corner of his eyes as tears he hadn’t known he’d been crying were dropping, one by one, into the blood on Peter’s face.

“Hol’… my… han’…”

Tony moved without hesitation, gripping Peter’s hand for all he was worth.

Around him, suddenly, was sound. So much of it. People moving, yelling. Wheels rolling on tile. Orders being shouted.

Tony only knew Peter, though. Only knew his kid, dying right before him on a random Wednesday afternoon.

“It’s okay,” Tony lied. “Just stay calm. You’ll be okay.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I love you so much, Peter,” Tony whispered. “So much.”

Peter didn’t close his eyes, but the rattle-like breathing stopped. The blood simply pooled in his mouth until it overflowed. His eyes lost their shine.

Tony was pushed aside suddenly as the paramedics moved to Peter’s side, shouting orders at each other as they assessed the situation. Tony kept his hand in Peter’s – there was nothing in the world that could make him let go.

Tony knew the paramedics would stop soon. They’d realise that Peter Parker was beyond saving. It would be a long, long time after this day before anyone realised that Tony Stark was, too.

[randombitchsince1996]

When the Nightingale Calls: Chapter 2

Characters: EXO, Ja Eunsae (OC), NCT

Genre: Fantasy, Dystopian, Supernatural, Action, Romance

Warnings: Character Death, Violence, Gore (More in Future Chapters)

Word Count: 2,453

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST

An old man entered, his body shook and quivered like an old house that was settling into its misshapen structure. His hands were swollen from years of fieldwork, the arthritic joints grasping onto the hand-woven basket as best they could. His skin was so tan it looked as though the color had seeped into him, right to his bones. He walked slowly being forced to stop next to Lucas and Sooyoung, a private that was not part of my team. They quickly lifted the loose cloth examining everything that was held inside of it. They both pulled away around the same time, nodding to each other letting the old man stumble past. 

His offering had passed the examination, it was fit to give to the emperor. 

This was the last day of unity, it had been four days of civilians bringing in offerings as gifts to him. It had been four days of me standing on the balcony in the throne room watching as person after person arrived to drown him in their hard work. He sat on his golden throne, in a room embellished in the fine mineral, guarded by his military and guards; as he was given crops, livestock, and anything the public could make him. He was stealing from those less fortunate than him, it made me sick.

It took all the strength I had to not make faces of disgust every time the vile ruler made the elderly bow before him as he stole from them. But I couldn’t look away, it was my job to make sure none of the people entering were a threat to him. It was also the job of the rest of my team and another group, as well as the palace guards. I could see Johnny set and poised by the doors. He was tasked with letting the civilians in and out, he stood stoic looking as he would look on any other day; his back stiff, face blank, and body tall. He could see Lucas’ face from where he stood while I could only see my private’s back. 

He was set to check everything that came in and make sure it was safe. When he wasn’t examining the gifts, he was standing at attention. His green military shirt sitting perfectly across his broad shoulders, his hands clasped behind his back, his head staring straight ahead. He was playing his part well too, he was the only one I was worried about. The rest of my men were on the balcony with me. We all were set apart at equal intervals so no matter where you looked we were there, watching. Tied curtains stood between us and I was at the very end; Taeyong stood to my left, we all stood in order of rank. 

Hansol was reported to have left late last night and our plan was in motion. We had a citizen who was open to our cause, Kikwang. He was part of the lower class in our society and he would sometimes come and help at our shooting ranges for extra money. He was reliable and good-natured, and most importantly he was willing to put his life on the line so we could stand a chance against a cruel ruler. He would carry in a basket that seemed to hold eggs but in reality, we were able to sneak bombs inside of them. All we needed was for them to pass by Sooyoung with no problem. 

Yes, the decision was risky, we had no clue who would be injured in the process, or how large the blasts would be. Even though Jaehyun was a master with pyrotechnics the little adjustments he had to make here and there to disguise everything made the outcome questionable. But we had to hope that in the blast our true target would go down. 

The plan was littered with imperfections as we only had a couple of days to change everything we had originally planned. We knew that Kikwang was noble with his loyalties but he was a civilian. He was not trained with bombs, grenades, he wasn’t even trained in combat. Who even knew if his ability to play the nonchalant peasant was up to par. We could get caught so easily. One slip up and we were done for, but with all the possibilities we had a backup plan and it was me. 

If anything were to go wrong I would be the one to shoot. I felt the weight of my P320 as it sagged lightly against my hip. If I needed to grasp it and shoot I could. I was placed a bit behind where the emperor was set but it made it far easier for me to take an unsuspecting shot if need be. If it came to that I would be the one punished. My men would be safe and most importantly their reputation would not be besmirched. I shift once more. They had their orders to stay stoic, play their part, and let me do the dirty work. It was best for me to go down than for all of them to go with me. 

I grimaced seeing the elderly man practically collapse in a shaky attempt at a bow after he had given his basket to the guards standing next to the emperor. He needed help to get back on his feet, I felt my insides twist at the sight. I could see red just watching the scene unfold before me. This man should not have to give up his hard work to a fat man who sat on a throne of gold, it was disgusting. I held my composure nonetheless, playing my part as well. He was escorted out and the ceremony continued on without issue. 

The more people walked in the more on edge I became, where was Kikwang? I could practically feel Taeyong next to me winding up tighter and tighter with each passing person. Something was wrong. The energy in the room was frazzled and stripped, as though we all could feel something was off. He should have come through those doors already. My clenched fingers itched to reach for my gun but I refrained from the action. 

Then it happened, the double doors opened and there was Kikwang being held tightly by two palace guards. His already wide eyes blew up even wider at the sight of the grand hall laid before him.

 His basket was gone and he tried to cool off his features, but it was too obvious how on edge he was; his lack of training was all too noticeable. I wanted to smack myself for thinking this would work at all. He was dragged before the emperor dropped on his knees harshly before the larger of the two guards swiftly grabbed at his arms, restraining him further as he kneeled awkwardly before the emperor. I was almost thankful that I could not see the emperor’s face. My fingers inched towards the gun strapped to my hip. 

Fingertips touching the rough surface, nerves jumping as I watched the interaction carefully. I knew that at any moment Kikwang would rat me out. That was the protocol. If he were to get captured, say I did it, I put him up to it, this was all on me and nobody else. I knew Taeyong, in particular, loathed the idea. He hated that it would fall on me. That I would take the bullet for this. But it was my idea, my plan, and my loyalty that led to this whole ludicrous idea in the first place. So if anyone was to fall for it, it would be me. My other generals weren’t too fond of the idea either, but they had their orders and they would follow them through.

My fingers itch for the trigger, I finally feel my hand slip around the grip and I pull it up a bit. My eyes still glued to the panicked Kikwang. His lips part and I see the way “ja” begins to fall from his lips. The next moment happens too fast. Too fucking fast. 

A loud scream roars through the room, all eyes shoot to the front of the throne room where Lucas is charging at Kikwang. His usual silly demeanor is gone, he’s a man on a mission. His eyes are dark, brows furrowed, and I see the gun in his own hands wobble as he pulls it up ready to aim. I can barely process when Johnny hesitates with his own weapon when Johnny’s finger pulls the trigger when the bullet goes shooting through the air and Lucas goes down. 

I see the blood pool and spread around my private. I feel something inside me drop, crack, bleed open at the sight. It feels slowed. Everything does, I see Johnny’s instant regret. He was doing his job, but Lucas isn’t moving. My eyes burn and I try to swallow the sudden remorse fast. I need to do this now. I whip the gun up quickly trying to ignore my swirling thoughts and intense emotions. My steady fingers curl around the trigger, one eye open, the other shut, I land on my target then feel pain burst down the middle of my spine. The gun falls from my shaking fingers and slams into the tiled floor far below.

I have no time to react, no time to process that our plan went down in flames. I whip around staggering only a little as I come face to face with Hansol. He was supposed to be gone. He strikes at me again, hoping to get me to go down but I dodge the attack swiftly. My fingers slip over the handle of my combat knife and I pull it free. He comes for me once more. His wide eyes cold, he quickly pulls his knife out too. I’m unable to charge because the motion is so smooth. He lunges and I spin out of his grasp once more, my back slams into the railing of the balcony and I realize I’ve made a mistake. 

In a second he’s on me, his hips pinning me to the railing. His free hand gripping my wrist too tightly so I can’t maneuver my knife. My torso leans away from him and I hang precariously over the edge. He could easily shove me over and end me right then and there. The open air behind me back is nauseating, the image of Lucas’ body motionless and lying in a pool of its own blood sets my gears into overdrive. I can’t let what he did go to waste. He did that so my name wouldn’t be revealed, but with the way, this was going that was already foolish. It was clear I was screwed no matter what. 

Hansol smiled at me. His knife-wielding hand rested against my collarbone. The cool and sharp tip pressed hard into my flesh, tearing skin ever so slightly. My free hand held onto the railing so tightly the knuckles went white, the adrenaline pumping through my veins making my palms slick. If I let go I would surely tumble down to my death, so I held on tighter feeling the pressure pull at my muscles. He pressed in harder, cold smile turning into a lethal sneer.

“I never liked you, General Ja,” the knife tip pierced my skin. Hot blood dripped down my chest, and I swallow hard. My gaze didn’t waver though, I felt a tornado of emotions swallow me whole but I wouldn’t waver to this bastard.

“The feeling is mutual General Ji,” I put as much venom into his proper title as I possibly could. But he pushed me farther back and I feel my stomach drop. My fingers slipped a bit and I tried readjusting my grip but I can tell this won’t end well for me. My savior comes at that moment, Taeyong’s body comes crashing forward. He slams into Hansol so hard the general goes flying and they both tumble to the ground. I push myself forward with the momentum that almost shoved me off the ledge. It only takes me a second to get a hold of myself as I lunge forward to help Taeyong. 

I quickly pull him up and move to slip behind Hansol but a familiar set of clicks echo through the hall. I freeze in my place, I see Hansol’s lip turn into a smirk. I turn my head only slightly to see that Jaehyun and Taeil have their guns turned on me and Taeyong. My fingers loosen their hold and I let my knife drop down, hitting the floor with a sharp clank. I can only assume that everyone else who can see us has their weapons aimed at us too. Fighting is pointless, we both drop down to our knees and wait for what is to come. 

Hansol shoves himself onto his feet and I feel his hands caress my cheek softly. They drag along the length of my face chills run through my body and goosebumps rise. The second his fingers reach my hairline they dig in, pulling the tight strands loose, painfully, I bite down on my tongue. I can hear Taeyong breathing hard, I can see the way his hands clench and unclench behind his back. Taeyong’s temper was wavering and shaking but even if he snapped it was useless. He and I were both going down for this, and Lucas was still lifeless below. 

“I can’t wait for you to join your little friend down there,” Taeyong snaps and lunges. A round is fired and he staggers collapsing. I move quickly pressing my fingers into the wound on his shoulder. It isn’t a deadly wound and I thank my third and fourth in command for aiming anywhere but his heart. I feel his blood soak my fingers as I press in hard, he shakes and groans. All the anger from moments ago is faded replaced by a hazy exhaustion. He parts his lips and our eyes meet. I want to cry, but I don’t. 

We failed so horribly. The emperor isn’t dead but my private is, Lucas is gone. That fact alone makes me feel raw. But now Taeyong is going down with me and is injured to top it off. His blood runs hot across my fingers, we failed so horribly. I blink hard trying not to cry. I won’t let them see me cry. Even if I get executed for this treason, I will not cry. I breathe in sharply and push harder, Taeyong’s gasp is strangled and clipped before he closes his eyes and goes still.

We failed. 

[juliusschmidt]

backstage breathplay

A little smut in the ‘Last Best Option’ universe (masterpost here). It was inspired by a tumblr prompt I received this summer for ‘breathplay.’ But it’s very gentle breathplay tied up with some very gentle d/s undertones. 

(thanks to e for the quick beta)

H/L 1.7k Explict

Louis’ shoes squeak against the linoleum floor as he races down the hallway, pushing past a throng of folks in black shirts and then turning down another, darker hallway.

A blonde woman is clutching the hand of a small child and gesticulating wildly, long, bare arms almost hitting the wall. Harry’s bodyguard folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head. “Too late,” he says. “The artist doesn’t like visitors after the show. Only close family and crew members allowed inside at this time.”

The woman begins to speak again, this time pointing to the little girl, who has begun to cry. “We bought her VIP passes for the meet and greet, but I was late picking her up from daycare. It’s her seventh birthday today.”

The guard shakes his head. “Sorry, ma’am. The meet and greets are before the shows for a reason. The artist does not take fans back here after the show.”

The man sees Louis and jerks his chin up.  “Sorry, kid. As I was just telling these ladies. No fans backstage after the show.”

Louis heart, which has been racing since well before the show even began, stops abruptly, tripping over itself, before starting back up again, even faster than before.

The hall is quiet for a moment except for the choked back sobs of the little girl.

“I can call someone on the radio here to escort you three out to the VIP parking area if you need help finding your way.”

The mother huffs. “No, we’ll be alright.” She turns around and meets Louis’ eyes with a roll of her own. “Good luck.”

Louis reaches for his badge. It’s red, for family. Except that he’s not wearing it. Fuck. He’d handed to it Lottie halfway through the show so she’d be able to use the backstage bathroom, and then she and her friends had walked off with it.

“I’m Harry’s, erm, best friend,” Louis tries.

The bodyguard shakes his head. “His best friend’s named Johnny and he’s about four inches taller than you, dark hair. We met earlier this evening. Nice try.”

Louis tugs at the hem of his shirt. “I swear to God, I’m a good friend. Harry invited me back here after the show.” He closes his eyes. “I can text him!”

“Sorry, kid. I’ve heard this story too many times. Good friends, lost touch, just wanted to say hi. Nope, not tonight. He’s hired me for a reason, buddy.”

At that moment, Harry’s PA, Susan, opens the door. She smiles, “Hi, Louis. He just hopped in the shower, but he’s expecting you.”

Louis smirks at the security guard. “I told you,” he says.

Susan frowns. “You two haven’t met yet, have you? Rob, this is Louis, Harry’s boyfriend. Louis this is Rob. His job is to keep Harry’s ass safe, so don’t give him trouble, Louis. I know you want to keep your man’s bum in tact.”

“Rob, nice to meet you. Harry and I sure as shit aren’t boyfriends. We prefer ‘fuckbuddies.’” Causal. Laddish. That’s the tone Louis shoots for.

Fuckbuddies. That’s it. That’s all this is. Even after nearly two years. Just buddies. Who fuck. On occasion.

“You kiss your mum with that mouth?”

Louis flicks Rob off. He decides he likes the guy. He’ll tell Harry to keep him around for a while, anyway. Susan’s right about him wanting Harry’s delightful bottom unscathed.

“Hazza!” Louis shouts. The room is empty save a dark area rug and leather couch. Definitely an upgrade in decor from the ping pong table and bean bags he’d shared with five other guys during the X Factor tour.

A heavy door separates the main room from the bathroom and Louis bangs on it a few times. “Hazza!”

The door pushes open into him.

And then Harry is bare-ass naked in front of him.

Louis eyes catch on his soft cock and balls before he meets Harry’s gaze.

Harry’s grinning. “Hello.”

Louis throws himself at Harry and the damp of his skin seeps through Louis’ shirt and jeans. “You’re hot,” Louis whispers.

Harry’s hands slide under Louis’ bum, as he lifts him up and shoves him up against the wall. “Goddamn. I’ve been waiting for you forever.”

Louis cants his hips and leans in to bite at Harry’s ear. “You didn’t get yourself off without me, did you?”

Harry shakes his head, curls tickling Louis’ cheek. Louis’ body is bracketed by the cold concrete of the wall against his back and the heat of Harry’s body in front. A shiver runs down his spine.

“So…?”

Harry’s questions hang in the air unstated, but Louis hears them anyway. What did you think of the show? Did you hear the fourteen times that I missed a note? Do you think I can hold my own on the huge stage?

He’s answered them all before, during the last tour and then again when Harry was doing album promo in the UK last fall, but he doesn’t mind answering them again.

“You were so amazing,” Louis says. Harry thrusts up a little. Just a few words and he’s hardening. “So much energy up there, Haz. You were on fire. No one could take their eyes off you. Pure, raw sex, just like the show reviews said.”

Harry lets Louis down, slowly, but keeps him pressed against the wall. “You think?”

“Fuck, yeah, I think. I got hard watching you lick your lips and mime giving the mic a blowjob.”

“Mmm.” It’s not a reply. Harry doesn’t reply because he’s too busy licking at Louis’ neck and squeezing Louis’ ass.

“It should have been weird,” Louis continues. “A mic is an inanimate object and it doesn’t really look that much like a dick.”

Just as Louis says the word ‘dick,’ Harry reaches round to his front and places a hand over Louis’. Louis’ head hits the wall.

“God,” he says. “And your voice. I mean, you sound like you’ve just woken up or something, but all the time. I mean, I’ve heard you during sex. I know your tone is somewhere between hot molasses and gravel. But it’s something else to hear it projected in an arena to twenty thousand people.”

Mouth open on Louis’ collarbone, Harry murmurs, “You calling me slow and rough?”

That startles a chuckle out of Louis. “Yeah. That’s how I like it, too. So, I suppose you’ll do. Fuck, Haz. An arena, filled for you. It must be so surreal on the stage. All the screaming and shouting. People with posters asking you to marry them. Thousands- tens of thousands- of people who know every single word to your songs.”

Harry’s sunk to his knees and is nosing at Louis’ belly. Harry’s own belly has shrunk and hardened over the last two years. He works out several hours each day, lifting and running and, surprisingly, boxing.

Louis feels a little self-conscious, but Harry doesn’t seem to have lost interest in him, despite now having an array of newer and fitter fuckbuddy options.

“God, when you first came out onto the stage, you were running. I’ve never seen you move that fast in my whole life. It was like the electric guitar-” Louis’ voice catches as Harry’s breath blows hot through the fabric at Louis’ crotch “-was moving through you and you had to keep pace with it. You’ve described that feeling before, over the phone, I remember. And I could see it, you know.”

Harry’s teeth pull at Louis’ zip. Louis runs a hand through Harry’s hair, pushing his head back so that their eyes meet. “You’re like a some kind of rock sex God, Harry. Do you even realize?”

Harry’s pupils are blown wide, eyes more black than green, now. With their gazes locked, Harry bites at Louis’ cock.

“Fuck, ow,” Louis hisses. “I’m saying something nice about you and you go and bite me.”

He doesn’t mean it, though. He does like it a bit rough, and Harry knows that.

“I wonder,” Louis says. “If it gets you hot? All those people screaming your name? I know you like it when I scream your name. One of your concerts is like that times twenty, thirty, forty thousand.”

Harry shoots up and leans in, covering Louis’ mouth with his own. His tongue dives in, quick and eager. Forceful.

Louis’ ready for it; he’s already hard up and so is Harry. He relaxes himself against the wall, open to Harry’s assault.

Harry’s erection presses into Louis’ stomach, Harry’s whole body flat against Louis’ own and heavy.  

Louis gasps for breath, “I could see you thickening up in your jeans. Was tempted to jump up on stage with you. Get you off right there, in front of everyone.”

It’s a favorite fantasy of Louis’, one they’ve toyed with over Skype. Harry likes it, too, and his cock twitches.

Harry sinks his teeth into Louis’ neck. 

“Oh fuck. Harry. Oh my God.” His voice echoes off the concrete and Harry leans even more heavily against Louis’ body and begins to rock his hips, in small tight motions.

Louis manages to choke out a whine.

“Rob will hear you,” Harry hisses into his ear. “And any lingering fans who manage to make their way back here.”

“You like- that- don’t you?” Louis groans back, the rhythm of his words matching Harry’s thrusts. “The possibility- we might- be caught out.”

Harry slaps a hand over Louis’ mouth and Louis’ head spins. “Not as much as you do.”

Louis keeps his eyes closed, barely able to move, glad that Harry keeps his pace even, his thigh pressing over and over and over again against Louis’ hard length.

He can barely breathe, with Harry’s weight covering his chest and Harry’s hand covering his mouth, but he can’t imagine why he’d need to. Harry’s taking care of everything important.

His free hand reaches between them, dips into Louis’ jeans, and grabs hold of Louis’ cock. After that, it’s like Louis’ wrapped in black velvet, warm and soft and heavy. Harry tightens it with the tug of his hand and pull of his words.

“It was all for you, babe. That show. All for you.”

Louis wants to cry because-

Just like that

And it’s over. Louis’ coming inside inside his jeans.

Harry releases him, letting his hand slide away, fingers grazing Louis’ cheek. He presses a kiss onto Louis’ temple and then another on to Louis’ ear.  “I’m so glad you came, Lou.”