#especially the little glides he does before spinning around in the first act

[jaxsonthefirefly]

this is my roman empire btw

the phantom is literally my #1 blorbo rn

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

DWTS AU Chapter Two: 80s Night!

(Eventual Aricka x Bradley)

(@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @letsgofoletsgo @yeehawselfshipping @tsundere-selfship @callsign-revenge)

“Our next couple in this electric 80s throwback night is the couple that stole the judges’ hearts with their first dance last week. Watch as debut pro Aricka teaches her partner Bradley Bradshaw the ropes of the rumba.”

***** rehearsal package footage*******

“So it’s 80s Night!” Aricka claps her hands and exclaims as the two of them sit on the couch in the room. “How excited are you?”

“Aw man, I’m stoked. I grew up watching movies from that era and I’ve tried to model my own acting career after some of those stars,” Bradley says.

In the interview Aricka says, “so we’re doing our first of the more sensual dances this week, and I’m excited to see how Bradley does with a more serious performance. He’s a natural born performer but we do need to polish up his footwork and make sure his frame is solid.”

Bradley, in his own interview, says, “We’re dancing to a song from one of my favorite movies, “Take my breath away,” and Aricka said the dance we’re doing fits the vibe of the song perfectly.”

Back in rehearsal Aricka was saying, “so we’re doing a rumba, and it’s typically danced to a slow, sensual song that lets the performers connect with each other. It’s heavily reliant on the trust of the dancers. So I was thinking we could practice our connection by- and this is going to sound a little weird but I want you to trust me- having a staring contest? The deep eye contact will help us trust each other and deepen our friendship, if you’re down.”

“I’m down; whatever helps me connect to the dance,” he says, and takes her hand as they begin the contest. The two of them stare deeply into each other’s eyes, serious at first but then Bradley began to smile as Aricka starts to giggle.

******jump cut*****

“This is a very flirtatious dance so don’t be afraid to flirt with me during this dance with your movements,” Aricka says, “don’t worry about my dad being a judge, just focus on me and the music.” They resume their quick-quick slow box step, gliding through the room with an ease so smooth you’d have assumed they’d dance together their whole lives.

“Bradley is such a great performer, he’s very charming and he’s very careful with his hand placement, and I’ve enjoyed the process of teaching him this dance; especially when he forgets himself and just starts random dancing during rehearsal,” Aricka says during the interview with a bright laugh.

Back in the rehearsal room Bradley starts wiggling his hips holding his arms up in front of his face as Aricka laughs, “okay, smooth operator, let’s get back to work.”

“Aricka is a great coach, she’s firm when she needs to be but that doesn’t stop her from letting go and being goofy with me when the mood strikes,” Bradley says.

The footage shows them gliding around the room before Bradley let go of her with one hand and spun her twice before letting her go as she pirouettes through the empty space, and the video fades to their final clip of them holding the “10” judges score cards with peace signs and crazy faces.

~~~~~~~~~Dance~~~~~~~~~~

“Dancing the rumba with his partner Aricka Mitchell, it’s Bradley Bradshaw!” The lights came up to reveal Bradley in the center of the room, on the stage. He was wearing a pair of black slacks; a plain white shirt, and the iconic bomber jacket and aviators from the original TopGun movie.

The familiar synth/bass sound of the iconic song, “Take My Breath Away,” filled the room, Bradley walking down the stairs to the beat, spinning with his arms over his head, as Aricka slides up behind him, dancing her hands up his arms, one hand titling his chin toward her, and his body followed the movement, until he was completely facing hers. It lead to him pulling her into the relaxed rumba hold, as they glide around the room, breaking free of each other, stepping back a few paces as the song reached the, “Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say/Take my breath away…”

Aricka ran and jumped into Bradley’s arms, as he lifted her up, swung her around, and slowly set her down, her hands coming up to trace down his hair, cheeks and shoulders as they finish the song, the soloist barely breathing the last lines,

“My love, take my breath away

My love, take my breath away…”

The performance ended with Bradley on one knee, Aricka laying across it, both his arms enveloping her with their foreheads pressed against each other’s, their eyes closed with Aricka’s hands cupping Bradley’s face.

They freeze like this for two beats, as Aricka had them practice, and then Alfonso cued them to walk over to him. Bradley lifted her up,hugging her tightly, his face resting on her shoulder as hers was pressed against his collarbone, and he carried her over like that.

“Aricka and Bradley! Turning up the heat on this 80s throwback night. Alright, Derek, how did that look?”

“Oh yeah, turn it up! Aricka, you have such a knack for coming up with amazing choreography and the trust exercise you and Bradley did definitely paid off. Bradley, you could be a little sharper with those lines and detentions with your legs, but your technique and your charisma and the way you lead Aricka around the floor- it’s dynamic. Love it man, keep it up.”

“Alright; Bruno?”

“That was a SPICY sensual routine, I’m feeling a little hot right now!” Bruno rips off his jacket; making Aricka laugh and Bradley shake his head while smiling. “Aricka, my darling, you’re a light that keeps on shining, and you grew so much between this week and last. Bradley my darling, remember that when you’re doing a dance in frame that you have to be very careful not to let that arm slip, you looked wobbly there for a moment but you looked amazing, keep up the good work.”

“Carrie-Anne?”

“Aricka-!!!! Way to bring it again, and Bradley Bradshaw! The charisma and character you brought to that dance- I felt like I was watching a scene from the movie-! You’re a natural born performer and it shows; however like Derek and Bruno said you need to clean your frame up; and trust Aricka to guide you if you feel like you’re loosing control. You have full potential to be a great dancer. I’m very confident in that.”

“Pete, you’re up.”

“Bradley, you earn brownie points for loving that movie as much as I do- and like Carrie said it felt like I was watching the movie, you and Aricka trust each other so much and it’s easy to see, however I did notice there was a moment where you rushed the steps, but other than that it was perfect. Aricka, beautiful choreography and great storytelling throughout the dance.”

~~~~~~~~~skybox~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradley carried Aricka piggyback style up the stairs to the skybox, her heels in his hand and she was laughing as they went. “Bradley and Aricka!” Julianne said. “You two have such amazing chemistry, care to enlighten everyone on your secret?”

Brad sets Aricka down and wraps an arm around her, giving her an anchor and grounding himself at the same time. “It’s like you all saw in the package, she has us do at least one trust exercise through the whole rehearsal process each dance and it helps us trust each other and know we have each other’s back.”

“Aricka how do the judges comments feel?”

“They feel amazing, knowing my dad gets to watch me dance like he watched my mom- it’s incredibly humbling and a huge honor.”

“Alright now lets see those scores!”

~~~~~~~~ scores ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carrie-Anne Inaba: 7

Pete Mitchell: 8

Derek Hough: 8

Bruno Tonioli: 7

Total score: 30/40

[whosjunglejim4322]

Dom!mark lee w breeding kink for @nakamotocore I am v excited this is nasty aha devil emoji, est. relationship, uhm spitting, hand/finger kink, overindulgence of the word baby, fingering, creampie, bathroom sex, fucking in front of a mirror, mark has a nasty mouth, he's a sweetie who is acc very in love w u, toothrotting fluff at the end

It really wasn't your fault. You are pro comfort above all else, in fact, it's even advised by certified healthcare professionals, to not wear underwear occasionally - who are you to risk not giving yourself the care you need and or deserve?

Sure, maybe you should've worn something a bit less conspicuous than a dress, but it's not like you aren't careful. Of course you are! Especially since you and Mark are visiting Jaehyun and Johnny at their new home payed by Jae's onlyfans money - but silly you, had still accidentally managed to expose yourself - luckily, with only your boyfriend there to see.

You'd been rummaging in J number one and two's fridge, eager to find something behind the rows of beer that stacked the shelves, organized neatly as if they'd actually taken their time on making at least twenty five cans of bud light look presentable.

Mark had followed, having promised to bring a couple of the beverages back to the living room, just as you spotted the non alcoholic juice cocktail nestled all the way in the back of the bottom row - your fingers suddenly prickling with newfound determination.

"You're really.....fuck," Mark groaned from somewhere behind you and all at once the breeze against your bare center had you shivering. You've been caught. "come here."

It was a silent, steady command that rang with regained composure and as you stood up straight, Marks hands gripped your hips with ferocity, spinning you around to face him.

If the flaring of his nostrils and the glossy, lost glare in his doe eyes were anything to go by, you'd ticked something inside of him that began raging like a bull behind his ribcage; dick swelling in his sweats at a rapid rate, while he pulled you closer to his body by the swell of your ass.

Your gasp was a puff against his cheek, pupils blown wide when you felt the warmth of his palm against your sex from behind, the prod of his middle finger. You could still hear Jaehyun and Johnny in the living room just around the corner, furthering the mixture of thrill and embarrassment.

"You did this on purpose, huh?" He growled it against your ear, the vibration trilling down your spine and flooding your pelvis with heat. Within the second you were being tugged along, out of the kitchen and through the hall that led to an intersection of doors; the one straight ahead being the bathroom, the others bedrooms.

You had to grip onto the back of his shirt to keep up with him, despite the fact that your wrist was firmly entrapped by his slim fingers. You entered the middle door and that's what led to your current situation; your ass perched on his friends' bathroom counter with your dress being hiked up around your thighs.

"M-Markie, right now? W-what if they come looking for - ohhhh, for us?" You sputter as the pad of his middle and forefinger rub your clit in circles, his bottom lip caught between his two front teeth. He chuckles darkly, in a way that makes you leak, and suddenly you're far too worked up to think straight anymore.

"Don't Markie me, you really came here in this pretty little dress," he tugs the ensemble up higher, until it's resting around your hips and your naked center is in full view. "with your pussy right underneath, completely bare."

He kisses you sloppily, as if he's as drunk on the adrenaline as you are, but with clear purpose. You grind against his fingers and then he's pulling away, grin lopsided and fever inducing, the way it always is when he's in these moods.

"That's not-" he cuts you off, slowing his circles and your clit throbs in protest.

"What? Not fair?" He scoffs, pulling you closer by the back of your knees, nestling his narrow hips in between your parted thighs while his mouth presses soft kisses to your cheek, down your jaw.

"You know what's really not fair, baby?" Your wetness is loud even as he glides his digits through the silk of your folds, using the lightest of touches to trace the ring of your slit.

"You knew I'd notice, eventually," his tongue flicks across your throat, over to your carotid artery until he's kissing the patch of skin just under your ear. "and you wanted my dick to get hard in front of my friends - fuck - wanted me to have to drag you to the bathroom and rub your little pussy just like this - you were staring at my hands all day, hmm?"

You're already trembling in his hold, and you have to fight back the near irrepressible urge to whimper when he slides those fingers into your sopping heat - your walls sucking him in greedily, contracting around the digits.

"Fuuuck baby, so fucking wet." he groans, curling his fingers when he feels you squeezing around them. You blame it on him- it's hard not to notice the bulge that has formed underneath his shorts, and your neediness grows with each sound that passes his pretty lips.

Of course, this is Mark, though. He feeds off of the fact that you're so fucked out so fast, knows that you'll act completely innocent until he fucks the truth about your mischievous plans out of you - even so, you whine just a bit too loudly when your hole feels sudden emptiness.

"Please, Mark," you're begging already, pouting until he brings the soaked digits to your mouth. Without missing a beat you're parting your lips and suckling your juices off of him, his dick twitching the minute he feels the slick of your tongue.

"Is that what you're gonna call me, while you're trying to get your way?" He cups your cheek, pulling his spit soaked fingers from your mouth before wiping them on the inside of your thigh.

"No, no sir I'm sorry," he smiles proudly, cock leaking and desire saturating his senses as you stare up at him through the thick of your lashes, clinging onto the front of his shirt in an effort to pull him closer than what he already is.

This proves to showcase your real desperation and then he's kissing you again, roughly at first but then he's rhythmic while he takes his time suckling your bottom lip, then your top, and alternating between the two.

You're so distracted by the feel of his tongue against the roof of your mouth, that you don't even realize he's shoved his shorts down, until the bulbous tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit.

"Fuck me, please Mar-sir? Want you s-so bad." You mewl, gasping when you're suddenly pulled off of the counter by your waist, turned around and met with your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror. You bend yourself over with no hesitation, eyes drawn forward and belly tightening with arousal from the sight before you; from the way Mark's entire expression has darkened, gaze low and focused on the glistening between your legs.

"Yeah? Wanna be fucked full of my cum, hmm baby?" He's fucked out, hazy from the ache in the pit of his belly, in his chest. He's gripping the thick shaft of his length, rubbing the plum hued head up an down your slit as if it's his tongue lapping at your pussy instead.

"Mm, yes, yes please stuff me full, sir."

You push back against him and he chuckles at the way you're trembling, though he honestly doesn't think he can last much longer to tease you about it, balls tightening with the urge to release. Plus, how could he say no to you?

It always takes him by surprise, every single time he pushes himself into you. It's a further reminder that you're his, made for him in every way and it makes his desire even headier.

He bottoms out and you're gripping onto the edge of the sink for dear life, eyes holding themselves open just so you can watch Marks soft features contort into that of someone else completely. His dark eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, petal lips parted.

He drags his length out of you and you're the only thing he sees as he thrusts himself back into the warmth of your sex, his hands snug around your hips as a form of leverage for the pace he sets; hard and precise.

Johnny and Jaehyun are long but forgotten now, in fact when you're with Mark, it seems as though everything else disappears completely. That's not an understatement, especially not when he's able to fuck you like this, pretty groans leaving his throat, his manhood buried deep inside of you.

You're a whimpering mess and he doesn't have the heart to tell you to quiet down, you're too beautiful like this and you're - "So fuckin' wet for me baby, shit."

You're completely coating his cock in your milky essence, it's smearing the front of his thighs and dripping down his balls. You feel the warmth of mouth against the side of your cheek and realize he's lent over, arms wrapped fiercely around your middle as he rolls his agile hips into you from behind.

"M-Maaark, mmmph." You feel so full, too full and you're not sure what to do with yourself - bouncing back on his length, the back of your thighs meeting the front of his.

"You like being fucked like this baby?" He uses one arm to reach down in between your thighs where the two of you are connected, rubbing circles over your bud as he did earlier. "You want me to have you leaking between your legs with my cum?"

He's filthy, and each word that is spoken through a growl has your belly filling with an unbearable pressure, body lurching with each sharp, sloppy thrust of his hips.

"Y-Yes Markie, make a mess o-oohhhh, out of me."

You've forgotten about the formalities but he's okay with it, in fact the nickname sounds so pretty coming from you, that it makes the drive to fill you with his seed that much more powerful.

"Gonna - fuck, gonna put a baby in you, mmm," he curls his hips and hits a spot inside of you that has your body involuntarily jerking, legs wobbly. "gonna make sure everyone knows who got you all big and swollen."

Even the thought has you barely holding it together, his possessiveness stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you that seem to be building by the second. He stands uo to his full stature and returns to his previous position in an effort to hold you up, sensing that his mouth has you worked up beyond belief.

"You like that baby? Can feel you squeezing around me."

It's sadistic, really. Your eyes aren't even all the way open, the balloon of pressure in your belly swelling and swelling, spreading licks of fire through your nerve endings, causing you to drip onto the bathroom floor with each drag of his cock from your heat.

"Ple-ease don't s-stop, oh fuck, Mark please." You're not making any sense but he understands perfectly, as he always has and always will. Hes not fairing much better, if he's honest, and so he's truly grateful that you're so close to falling apart as he knows he won't be long either.

"Awe, look at you," his voice isn't steady but it's still strong, teasing in its lilt. "you're gonna cum all over my dick aren't you? That's what you wanted all along, couldn't even wait."

You mewl as a reply and he twitches, the end dangerously close with each stroke. He's never felt someone so soft, so warm and wet for him and only him and now you're panting his name, over and iver again as if it's the only word you've ever known.

"Markmarkmark, oh fuck, I'm c-cumming."

A hand clamps over your mouth while you drown in the liquid heat that pulsates through you in rigorous, violent waves; tears brimming in your eyes and knees practically giving out.

Mark manages to keep you steady, to fuck you through your orgasm while your muffled cries seep into his skin like they're made of medicine; and in reality it's probably only seconds after, with you throbbing around his cock, that he feels his orgasm rip through him as viciously as yours rips through you.

You know the signs enough by now to sense it in his body, and despite the fact that you're still loopy, you manage to pull your eyes open just enough to watch him lose it - his body bowing and chest pressing against your front as he pumps himself into you with sloppy thrusts.

His bottom lip almost bleeds with how hard his teeth dig into it, tremors wracking through him while the warmth of his cum fills you from the inside out, and it has an aftershock of orgasmic pleasure moving through the marrow of your bones.

It's not even a moment later when you feel the softness of his kisses against any expanse of skin he can reach, soft smooch sounds accompanied by the flurry of gentle pecks. You feel like you're floating, despite still not being able to move properly.

"My baby, my darling," he sings against your skin and you giggle at the giddiness that radiates from the doe eyed boy, your Mark. He pulls himself out of you and you try not to whine, but ultimately fail, too used to the feeling of him inside of you. "don't pout, gotta clean you up."

Your eyes are closed and the sound of running water pulls you from your momentary reverie, even more so as you feel the warmth of a cloth against your sensitive center; a flush of heat leaving you dangling in the realization of what you two have just done in Johnny and Jaehyun's bathroom.

"Oh fuck." You attempt to bury your face in your arms but Mark stops you, chuckling as if he hasn't got a care in the world while he adjusts your dress to drape over your hips again, pulling you into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay it's okay. We made the place more...more homey - you know?" He teases with a warm chuckle that threatens to tear any worries from your mind, and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, smiling.

"I swear to fuck if they used even one of my brand new wash cloths I'm never inviting them over again." Jaehyun seethes.

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 3)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader 

Warnings: underage drinking, mild swearing, mentions of drugs 

Words count: 2k (it’s short but the next part is long) 

Part Summary: As the night dwindles away, JJ feels pressured to secure a place in your life. His chances grow times ten when Sarah arrives with some interesting news. 

Masterlist

You and JJ share a log around the fire. His arm rests over your thigh, his hand gripping your knee slightly. Your chin rests on his shoulder as you two exchange whisper back and forth, making the Pogues sick with how lovey-dovey you two already are becoming. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” JJ asks, kinda hoping he could ask you for real date but he’ll understand if you already have plans. 

“Hanging out with you,” you cheekily answer, earning a blushing grin from him. 

“Oh! cool, cool...” He presses his lips together with a faint laugh, finding it hard to hide his childish grin. 

You giggle at his bashfulness. He’s so shy around you and you can’t help but find it adorable. 

"Here comes Sarah!" Kiara announces as he spots their friend's car rolling up the drive. 

You and JJ finally break your hype-focused attention away from each other. Almost to make up for the lack of verbal communication, JJ shifts closer to you and plants a quick peck to your temple. 

"Hey! Sorry for the delay!" Sarah announces as she walks over from her car. John B rises from his position, trying to intercept Sarah before she sees you and JJ. Once she reaches John B, she notices how you and JJ are sitting. Her brows scrunch together, but she does her best to mask her confusion. "My parents were having a hissy fit about me borrowing the car. I told them and Y/N's parents that we were staying the night at Kiara's since she doesn't feel well. I hope that's okay, Kie," she asks as she gets closer to the bonfire. 

"Yeah, no problem!" Kiara waves her hand, not caring at all. 

"Wait, so what's the game plan?" You ask Sarah, but also everyone else for their input. You're thankful for the group's help, but weren't exactly prepared for an overnight stay. You understand why Sarah did this nonetheless. 

"You all can stay here tonight," John B shrugs as the Pogues do it all the time. 

"Your parents believed it," Sarah assures you. "I would just text your parents to help it seem more legit." 

"Okay! I'll text my mom," you comply with enthusiasm. 

Hey, I told Sarah to tell you but in case she didn't, we're staying over at Kiara's tonight. I had to drive her home in her dad's car because we think she got food poisoning or something. I'll text you when I'm heading out in the morning. Sarah can drive me home or something :)

"Finally! It'll be nice not being the only girl! I was kinda hoping you and Sarah would stay over anyway," Kiara adds, offering you a kind smile. 

"That makes two of us," JJ whispers for only you to hear. 

"My folks were pretty pissed about me ditching on the party, so I feel no urge on going home," Sarah huffs, right as John B asks for her to help him inside real quick. 

You and JJ watch as John B escorts Sarah inside by the arm. They try to be nonchalant, but it's so obvious they're freaking out. Sarah's whispers aren't exactly quiet and John B's doing his best to fill her in on what he knows. 

JJ turns his face toward yours with a smirk, suppressing his laughter. "They're definitely talking about us." 

"Oh for sure!" You nod slowly with a snicker. 

You two share in your amusement as your friends slowly lose their minds. A Pogue from The Cut was caught kissing the Princess of the OBX. If your friends from the other side of the island found out they would have an even more dramatic reaction. 

Your phone buzzes in your lap and it's from your mom. 

Ok. Text me when you wake up. 

"All set!" You voice to everyone remaining around the fire. "I doubt they'll even care since "I'm still on the Figure 8,” you make air quotes. 

"Yay!" Kiara claps her hands. 

"I say we watch a scary movie tonight!" JJ suggests beside you. 

"The Conjuring!" You vote swiftly, earning a laugh from JJ. 

"No!" Pope instantly refuses. "Nope! Last time we watched that you guys made me sleep on the porch and I heard creeks all night!" 

"Aw, I'll stay with you tonight Pope," Kiara offers, reaching for her friend's hand with a pout. "I'll keep you safe from all the ghosties." 

JJ leans in brushes his lips against your ear. "You gonna keep me safe?" 

You smile softly, turning your head toward him as you nod slowly. "I'll have your back if you have mine." 

His beautiful eyes meet yours in the gold flickering light of the fire. "Always, Baby." He plants a kiss to your lips, this time slow and comforting, as though you two have been doing it forever. 

___________________________________________________________

All six of you are gathered in the living room, watching The Conjuring. John B and JJ insisted that all lights in the house must be off, much to Pope's dismay. Kiara and Pope are positioned on the carpet, their backs against the couch. Pope has been hiding in a ball with his face behind the blanket he shares with Kiara. Sarah and John B are sprawled comfortably on the couch, well invested in the movie. You and JJ share the old red recliner, tucked close in a ball under a comforter. Right before the movie starts to get interesting, you shift forward in your position. JJ whines, disappointed in the loss of contact. His pouty face makes you giggle and he playfully tries to keep you close by holding onto your wrist. 

"I need another drink, anyone else?" You offer quietly, making sure not to step on Kiara or Pope on the floor on the way to the kitchen. You receive various forms of declines as you do your best to navigate your way through the dark and unfamiliar house. 

Finally finding yourself in the kitchen, you make yourself a glass of water. The moonlight shining through the window over the sink acts as your saving grace. Suddenly, you feel a pair of arms slip around your waist, causing you to jump. 

"Hey, Gorgeous," the blonde whispers against your neck. 

"JJ!" You gasp your heart racing. 

"Did I scare you?" He chuckles quietly to not alert the others. 

You spin in his hold and nudge him on the shoulder playfully. "You did that on purpose!"

"Not really but-" In one swift motion, JJ picks up and places you on the counter. He parts your legs to stand between them. His palms glide up and down your thighs. "That I did mean to do," he smirks, biting down on his lip. 

"JJ! Y/N! You're going to miss the wardrobe part!" Pope shouts, his voice shaky with fear. 

"I wish I had spoken to you sooner," JJ confesses abruptly, completely his friend in the next room. All he cares about right now is you. 

"Dido," you smirk, placing your arms over JJ's shoulders. 

"Really?" He voices in disbelief. Despite how much you've reassured him or have reciprocated his affections, he still isn't convinced that you truly like him. 

"That first time I saw you at the Cameron's?" You recall with raised brows. "Um, yeah! You looked hot in that pale green Ron Jon shirt." 

"I can't believe you remember that," he shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. I thought there was no way you'd know who I am." 

"JJ," you say his name in a mild groan with a toss of your head. How can this boy not see how amazing he is? "You're definitely worth remembering." 

"It was at the Boneyard," he states a matter-of-factly. 

"What was?" You grin. 

"The first time I ever saw you," he tilts his head back slightly, relieving his sharp jawline. "You were dancing with Topper on the wall. The fire made your skin glow and shimmer like bronze. You wore a navy blue bikini with ripped white booty shorts. Your hair was half up and all I could think about was how much I wanted to run my fingers through it. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen," he tells you, never once breaking eye contact. 

"That was last summer!" You can't believe he remembers that. 

"I know," he replies as though it's completely ordinary. 

Your jaw drops, "you're saying you've been waiting to talk to me for a year?!" 

"Okay well, when you put it that way," he tries to play it off and be cool now. 

"Aw JJ!" You express a little too excitedly, bringing your hands to his cheeks. 

JJ is quick to press his hand over your mouth. "Shh, Baby. Before you alert everyone in the living room!" Mischievously, you plant a kiss on his palm, catching him off guard. JJ swallows hard, peering down at you with hooded eyes.  "Okay, now you're just teasing me." 

You place your hand over his and remove it from your mouth. "You make it too easy," you giggle in a whisper. 

JJ simply stares down at your lips as he bites down on his own. Before you have a chance to react, he hungrily presses his lips to yours. Ever kiss up until now has been gentle, new, and hesitant. Now, JJ is forgetting his nerves and is acting on impulse. He breaks away from you and moves his assault to your neck. You comb your fingers through his thick blonde hair, gripping the strands on the back of his neck. 

"JJ," you pant breathlessly as your eyes fall shut. "What are you doing?" 

"Making up for lost time," he breathes against your neck. I'm really kicking myself right now." 

"It's my fault too," you try to speak as JJ makes a track down your neck to your collarbone. "I could've at least said 'hi' instead of smiling like an idiot." 

"At least you were nice," JJ mumbles against your chest. "I was a statue. Plus, I always thought you and Rafe may be-"

"Ew! Don't even finish that sentence," you scoff in disgusts. 

"You were always at the Cameron's. He's always on top of you and watches you like a hawk," JJ explains as he pops up for air. 

"He's had a thing for me for a while now. I've turned him down," you inform him.  

JJ frowns in confusion. "Why?" 

You figured it would've been obvious, especially considering how much JJ hates Rafe. "He's an arrogant ass. He thinks he's invincible and I hate people like that." 

"Well, you can tell him you're taken now," JJ grins, leaning in to kiss you. 

"Oh, I am?" You question playfully against his lips. 

"Yep," the boy nods as he begins to glide his lips across your jawline. "You're mine... and only mine..." He whispers, making you bite your lip with anticipation. Boy, this kid knows how to get you turned on. "I'll make sure everyone in the OBX knows it too," he declares as he starts to suck on the sensitive skin on your neck. At the rate JJ is going, he's certain to leave a mark or two, just as he wanted. 

"You guys!" Kiara calls this time. 

JJ huffs with annoyance as he appears out from your neck. "Coming!" He shouts, completely unfazed by what he was just doing. "Got you're so sexy," he plants a quick peck to your lips. "I hope you know I'm going to be dying through this entire movie." 

Ever the gentleman, he grips your waist and helps you down from the counter. He slips his hand into yours and grabs your water with the other before leading the way back into the living room. 

"She couldn't find the sodas in the fridge. I had to grab a new box from the back," he conjures up as you two cross the living room toward the recliner. 

"Sureee," John B and Sarah say in unison with amusement. 

"Sorry guys, what did we miss?" You ask while you and JJ get settled. 

After you take a quick sip from your water, you place it on the side table between the recliner and the couch before getting comfortable again with JJ. 

"Nice water, Y/N." Sarah giggles as she peaks over from the couch at your hand, earning an eye roll from JJ. 

"The crazy demon lady jumped on the daughter. I hate this!" Pope rushes out to answer your question. 

"Oh my God! You're fine, Pope!" Kiara groans, not hiding her annoyance. 

"I wish it wasn't so dark in here!" Pope shouts dramatically. 

"I kinda like it," JJ purrs in your ear. 

You turn your head to the side and he plants a kiss on your lips. As the others watch the movie, you and JJ spend most of the time whispering back and forth or too caught up in each other physically to talk at all. Of course, you two are respectful of your friends and keep it PG. Yet, you can't get enough of each other. It's all so soon, energetic, and freeing. As the thought of tomorrow morning lingers in the back of your mind, you’re starting to dread the idea of parting from JJ. 

__________________________________________________

Masterlist 

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things

[bureowo]

love confessions | stray kids headcanons (danceracha version)

how they would confess their love for you.

genre: fluff. | word count: ~2k total. | warnings: none.

. ⋅ ˚̣-:✧masterlist✧:-˚̣⋅ .

a/n: hi i’m back with a new hc post (❀◦‿◦) i’m trying a new format w this one pls let me know how we feel abt it! i really hope you enjoy it ( • ᵕ • )♡ i’ll try to post the other parts soon!! 💗

⊹ minho ⊹

❥ there’s not a chance minho is confessing until he’s absolutely, one hundred percent sure that his feelings for you are reciprocated. it’s just not happening, sorry luv. 😔

❥ that being said, though, he would definitely still dip his toe in the water.

❥ he’d flirt with you, very subtly at first, only to test your reaction; but overtime (and if you don’t show any signs of discomfort) he’d grow more and more daring.

❥ minho’s got a keen eye, taking mental notes of every single compliment or pet name that leaves you flustered or manages to draw out a bashful giggle from within you.

❥ however ! as much as he’s constantly and shamelessly batting his eyes at you, he’s also rather ‘hot and cold’ about it.

❥ it’s not like he’s purposefully trying to keep you on your toes or anything like that, it’s just... sometimes you smile at him so brightly, or you look at him with such a gleam in you eyes..., that his heart feels like it’s being squeezed, compressed against his chest; so he needs to tone it down sometimes, just so he can catch his breath.

❥ it’s one evening when the two of you are hanging out that minho is being uncharacteristically quiet.

❥ you try to make up for his quietude, not wanting to push him if he’s not in a particularly chatty mood, yet, soon enough, you begin running out of topics to blather about.

❥ sure, he chuckles at the little remarks and facial expressions you make as you speak, but the way he’s looking at you makes the hairs all over your body stand on end; there’s just something about it you can’t quite put your finger on.

❥ so you suggest watching a movie. he agrees with a soft grin and you power on your laptop; you read out a few titles, summarizing the plot and commenting on the posters.

❥ but all you get in response is: “whichever you like, y/n.”

❥ you turn around to face minho, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “hey, is everything okay?” he seems taken aback by your question. “it’s just- i don’t know, you’re being kinda... silent” you trail off.

❥ “it’s okay if it’s just that!” you add quickly, your words almost jumbling together. “if you just don’t wanna talk- it’s alright, i just- i care about you, so... yeah...”

❥ your face feels so warm you think you could burst into flames at any given moment.

❥ minho looks down, gnawing on his lip and fingers fumbling with each other for what feels like an eternity; your stomach churns every time he sighs.

❥ eventually, he peers at you through his lashes, and you swear you catch a glimpse of a rosy blush ghosting over his cheekbones for the fraction of a second.

❥ “y/n, i-” he stalls, his hands still fidgeting restlessly on his lap. “i'm fine, i just- i love you.”

❥ all your motor functions seem to stop working at once (did he really just say that??).

❥ “what?” you gape at him, voice small and eyes doe.

❥ “i love you, y/n.” he repeats. “and i care about you too, a lot.” minho’s gaze pierces straight through yours and your heart rate raises to a hundred beats per minute.

❥ “minho-” your head is spinning so fast you don’t even know what you’re saying, but when you feel his fingers intertwining with yours, it’s like the words draw themselves out of your mouth. “i love you too.”

❥ and the way he beams at you so radiantly before leaning in to press his mouth over yours makes you feel a way you’ve never felt before.

❥ (you did end up watching a movie, although neither of you paid much attention to it, finding each other’s lips to be much more captivating.)

⊹ hyunjin ⊹

❥ poor little bub, he’d get so nervous once he actually commits himself to confessing his feelings for you, you’d end up thinking he’s purposefully avoiding you.

❥ but he just wants it to be absolutely perfect you know? like, straight out of a movie scene, so he just needs time to map out the perfect plan.

❥ and once he’s got it all figured out, it’s time to set ‘operation: steal y/n’s heart’ into motion. 👏

❥ it’s early noon on a sunday when you suddenly get a text from hyunjin – ‘it’s lovely outside today! do you wanna hang out at the park?’

❥ and, happy that he’s no longer seemingly evading you, you agree – ‘sure i’ll meet you there in ten!’

❥ but ! hyunjin wasn’t expecting you to accede so readily; still, he can’t just ask you, out of the blue, to wait half an hour before leaving, he doesn’t want you to get suspicious.

❥ so he hurriedly gathers his things, quickly double-checking that he’s got everything he needs to sweep you off your feet, before scurrying out the front door.

❥ you arrive at the park, and hyunjin’s heart begins hammering inside his chest the second he spots you amongst the people; you look so incredibly stunning as you glide through the crowd (ethereal, hyunjin thinks).

❥ you catch sight of him standing on a less populated side of the park, a blanket spread out over the grass beside him, and rush over to him, greeting him as soon as you reach him.

❥ “ooh, did you prepare all of this for me?” you ask him merrily, a playful grin on your face while you motion towards the picnic basket and multiple containers filled with various fruits.

❥ “yes” he wants to tell you; but instead he turns around, hoping you didn’t see the blush dusting over his cheeks. he sits himself on the blanket and you follow suit.

❥ for a bit, hyunjin relaxes, he even nearly forgets his true intentions, loosing himself in the way your eyes shine as you tell him what you’ve been up to and the hums you let out when you pop a particularly sweet grape into your mouth.

❥ you smile at him, tilting your head down slightly. “why are you looking at me like that?” you simper.

❥ hyunjin’s heart does a somersault all the way up to his trachea. “i just-” he clears his throat. “you make me so crazy.”

❥ he rubs his hands over his face, you cock an eyebrow, yet before you can retort he keeps going: “i’m so crazy for you, y/n, you make me forget where i am and what i’m doing. all i can do is think of you, and look at you, and love you. god, y/n, i’m so in love with you, sometimes i don’t know what to do with myself.”

❥ you feel warm despite the breeze licking your face, the butterflies inside your stomach flap their little wings so fast you just can’t help but let out a chortle at the sensation.

❥ his hand moves to encompass yours and you can’t get the words out fast enough so you lean across the soft blanket and plant your mouth over his own.

❥ his lips are soft, supple, and taste sweet, like the strawberries he’d been eating.

❥ “i love you too.” you mumble as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair.

❥ (hyunjin ended up forgetting about his original plan, and about the bouquet of flowers laying inside the picnic basket, though he did give it to you later after he walked you home; you held his hand the entire way there, and his heart beat frantically as he kissed you goodbye.)

⊹ felix ⊹

❥ it’s not that felix isn’t planning on confessing, on ultimately declaring his undying love for you with a grand, romantic display.

❥ he just kinda thought you’d know about his feelings by now? like, how could you not?? especially since he’s been acting more and more bold each time the both of you meet.

❥ he’s not shy about holding your hand whenever he feels the longing, or lingering for an extra second or two when he gets the chance to hold you.

❥ but if you’re not picking up on the very obvious seed trail he’s laying out for you, then it’s time to draw out the big guns. 😎

❥ and so, he texts you – ‘hey! wanna come over & help me bake?’ – and, of course, you agree.

❥ you arrive at his doorstep and felix greets you with a wide smile and a warm hug; the cozy feeling stays with you even after the two of you part.

❥ he ushers you into the kitchen and you don’t seem to notice how his hand remains on your shoulder as he follows behind you.

❥ all ingredients and utensils are set up and ready on the kitchen counter.

❥ “what are we making?” you question him with a smile so beautiful he actually has to stop and think about it.

❥ “uh-” he mutters, his eyes focused on you. “oh, yeah! cupcakes!”

❥ you lower your chin ever so slightly, evading his gaze for a split second (could you be... blushing?), and felix grins, pleased.

❥ the two of you start mixing the ingredients, chit-chatting as you normally would, except you could swear he’s flirting with you; he showers you in compliments for every little thing you do (“woah y/n, you’re so good at sifting the flour!”, “ooh, you cracked this egg so perfectly, y/n, look!”), his fingers encase yours every time he asks you to hand him something, and you keep catching him glancing over at your lips.

❥ your stomach rumbles, but you can’t tell if it’s from hunger or from the butterflies flapping their wings furiously inside it.

❥ you set the tray of cupcakes inside the oven before turning around and leaning over the kitchen table, gaze fixed pointedly on felix across from you; he just looks so dreamy, brows furrowed in concentration and arm flexed as he whisks the mix for the frosting, you could look at him all day.

❥ he gazes back at you and the corners of his mouth tug up into what you can only describe as a smirk.

❥ your breath catches in your throat at the very moment the mixer judders in his hand and you let out an audible gasp when frosting spritz all over the both of you.

❥ felix looks at you like a deer in the headlights, but you can’t help the giggles that bubble from within your chest.

❥ “this isn’t how i wanted this to go, but,” he scratches the back of his head (unconsciously smearing frosting all over his hair), a chuckle escaping past his lips and a toothy smile on his face. “i love you, y/n.”

❥ your digit glides over the table, scooping some of the mixture before gently tapping his nose. “i love you too.” you chirp.

❥ felix leans towards you, hand reaching out to caress your cheek; he gapes at you for a moment, completely enthralled.

❥ you get even nearer to him, your mouth opens (god, he can’t stop staring at your lips).

❥ “do you smell something burning?” you ask.

❥ “oh no, my cupcakes!”

❥ (although felix didn’t get to decorate the cupcakes with little frosting hearts, or spell ‘i ♡ u’ with the cupcakes, or even make cupcakes for that matter, he figured things worked out okay anyway; in the end, he got loads of cuddles and kisses out of it, and i love you sounded a whole lot better coming out of your mouth.)

[gisachi]

Okay I LOVE YOU TO DEATH ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ but I think you already know that. I'm hereby requesting for #2 or #15 for the ShinRan kisses bc omfgahd you the b e s t ❤❤❤

This is for the dearest Tru because guurl your dcmk fandom misses you but I know you’re enjoying yourself over in HQ fandom and that’s great too ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) if you feel like coming back, let this be your ShinRan welcoming gift ok~ 💝😘

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss. 15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick. (1,659 words)

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Shinichi is a biter. It’s a fact not even he was aware of until Ran pointed it out. She discovered this weird trait of his back in middle school when in the dead silence of their study session, Shinichi unlookingly reached for Ran’s dormant hand and gave a light bite on the side of her palm.

Utterly aghast, Ran gave his head a good whack, questioning where the hell that came from,  only for him to respond with a clueless (and pained) ‘Huh, what did I do?’

Ran believed that Shinichi did know but merely played pretend to avoid her flying fist of death. Yet, it happened more than once, all done randomly and without any hint of hesitancy nor perversity in his end. That was when she started to consider that maybe, Shinichi was indeed blissfully unaware of his habit— of his fondness?— of biting her.

She isn’t going to lie, it’s very weird at first. It isn’t simply some information she can share so casually because even Agasa-hakase would find it hard to believe. Shinichi? Bites? Dogs bite. Not people. Moreso not him. He who cowers like a kitten when he senses the Ran Rage. Not that his bites hurt, but still. Weird.

Though after noting the pattern, Ran concludes that Shinichi mechanically does it only when three conditions are met: when he isn’t stressed, when they are beside each other, and when they are alone. If absorbed in a case, he doesn’t so much as flinch from his chair, sitting upright in a foetal position, and Ran beside him is reduced to an invisible post. But when his mind is free of cases, leisurely reading his mystery novels next to her, the hand grabbing and hand biting occur.

One instance, they were walking home, and although they were beside each other, fingers grazing fingers, Ran sensed his hesitancy to snatch her hand for a usual bite. Side glancing at him, she teased, “So you’re finally becoming conscious of your weird habit?”

“Conscious enough to understand that I must stop myself from doing that in public… give me credit, Ran,” he scoffed.

They weren’t even dating then, but the blush on her face was akin to the blush of a woman receiving a declaration of love from her man. He realized he was weird. And he wanted to be weird, comfortably weird, only around her.

The affectionate bites have continued without issue until high school, even beyond. She’s allowed to call it affectionate, right? Yes, it grew on her, and though it’s questionably odd, the act of imprinting innocent, visible teeth marks somewhere on another’s body is something that does not just happen if both parties aren’t comfortable with it. Letting him bite her is a sign that she returns his affection too.

And then they started dating.

The only thing that’s changed apart from their relationship status is that the biting doesn’t only happen on the hand. Sometimes, he treats her forearm like a roasted chicken leg and Ran tickles him on the rib as punishment. Her arm and shoulder are his favorite body parts to nibble on. Fortunately, teeth marks don’t take long to disappear, unless they blotch which is a different story. That hasn’t happened. Yet.

“You’re doing it again,” Ran complained during another private study session when the nibble on her unsleeved shoulder felt deeper than usual.

“Crap, sorry.” And he soothed with a kiss. Ran blushed.

That was a first.

She moved a tiny inch away from him, formidable pink growing in her cheeks. “Sorry for the bite, or for biting too hard?” she snipped. Shinichi simply laughed.

Pensively, he observed the embedded mark on her skin as she moved, eyebrows scrunching in contemplation. Suddenly his mood shifted.

“Do you think I ought to stop this?” he spoke up.

Ran blinked, a little surprised. “And you’re asking that question now?”

“Better than not asking and making you feel uncomfortable for the rest of your life, yeah.”

“What makes you say I’m uncomfortable?”

“ ‘Cause I never hear you say you’re okay with it?”

Ran blinked a few more times.

“Shinichi, I don’t have to say I’m okay with it for you to know I’m okay with it. You of all people should know that.”

“That’s not it,” Shinichi argued, “it’s precisely because I know you that I need to hear you say it. Your silence can mean a lot of things... I still can’t read you one hundred percent, you know...”

Stopping a growing smile, Ran rolled her eyes and sighed thickly through her mouth. She was so tempted to humor him but he looked so sincere with that sad apologetic face.

“It’s just odd. But I don’t...I don’t hate it,” she answered.

“So you like it?” His face brightened, voice upping mirthfully as he leaned closer. “C’mon! Say it.”

“M-Mah,” flustered, she lifted her nose in the air and looked the other way, “You’re just making fun of me now!”  

He laughed, then kissed her shoulder again. “Fine. I’ll take that answer.”

And so he never stops.

In the most random moments alone together, he'll grab the opportunity to steal a bite. When she’s brushing her hair, when she’s zoning out during a movie, while she takes a call from her mom, or even while she’s cooking. Especially while she’s cooking. He’ll stand behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, making everything more intimate than it already is.

One fine night, he drops by Ran’s after solving yet another case that has earned him another column in the next morning paper. In a very good mood, he bites her shoulder, after he has taken his bath, and Ran is cooking his favorite food for dinner. His lips - not his teeth - linger longer on her skin, longer than how he often soothes her, and Ran notices that the warmth is zipping north, onto the slope of her neck and shoulder, and then on her neck.

Suddenly, the heat that emanates isn’t just from the steam from the pot; it’s in her body, everywhere.

“You smell so nice…” She can hear his relaxed smile as his hands caress her waist, and Ran releases a quivering exhale. She knows he’s saying that more out of admiration than anything else, but his voice is raspy and it makes her knees weak. It doesn’t help that he just finished his bath and his bare chest touches her back, and he smells like her lavender shampoo and soap, and he is very far from stressed, and they’re alone in the apartment.

That fine night, the intimacy in the air feels tantalizingly different from usual.

“Did… Did you already heat the teapot as I told you?” Her question is not at all suggestive, but her tone seems to indicate otherwise.

“Mm,” lazily, he parts her long hair to the other side and nibs on the silky skin of her neck, “seven minutes ‘til it boils.”

And then the following seconds are quiet, body language speaking for itself. Her head craning, breathing short; his relaxing nibbles softer and deeper, hands on her waist playful. His alternating kisses and bites electrify her, and she wants to fuel this spark into something greater, something that will make both of them combust.

So she sets the stove to low heat, and turns around.

On that fine night, she seizes the opportunity to kiss him where she prefers.

Chaste and gentle, but eager all the same. Instances like these are when Shinichi need not ask if she likes what he’s doing because the answer is crystal clear in her eyes.

Still, with a shell-shocked expression, he stares back, unmoving. Heart beating fast and head spinning crazy. That is a first.

The next second, he’s kissing her back.

“Doing it...again,” Ran breathes, breaking their connection every two seconds to let him punctuate each kiss with a tender bite on her lip.

“ ‘M sorry,” he airs, smiling, kissing deep, drinking the moan that trembles out her throat. “Force of habit... Didn’t notice.”

She feels the swirling heat change the color of her cheeks; she’s probably burning red now. “You always don’t,” she chuckles over his lips as her back hits the edge of the kitchen island.

They are no expert at this, but it feels like they’ve been doing this for so long with the way their lips move and glide and dance with each other, already done testing the waters, encouraging for more. As if his skin kisses are but the foreplay leading to this special moment. Soon, she feels herself being lifted from the floor, thighs laid to rest flat on the countertop, his body slotted between her legs. Ran feels her soul leave her body. This intimacy has easily transcended into another level.

In the middle of concentration, Shinichi’s eyes blow wide like dinner plates and he separates, touching the corner of his lower lip.

He tastes iron on his tongue. He looks at his girlfriend, realizing what she’s done. “...Whoa.”

Smiling coyly, Ran leans close, pausing a breath away, before soothing his swollen lip with a soft bite and gentle lick, and Shinichi groans a little. “I think...I see the appeal now.”

Shinichi’s smirk is smug and thrilled, loving his girl’s newest discovery. “And I see why you aren’t stopping me before…” he kisses her again, “Do it more.”

And on that night, more she does. Her first kisses, her first nibbles, her first tongue action she offers while taking all of his in turn. Perhaps she might have taken more, if not for the kettle whistling and dinner boiling out of the pot.

As for his weird biting habit, safe to say it’s best she gets even for the hundred times he’s done before. And apart from his lips, she’s willing to discover where he likes to receive it most and how he likes it given.

That won’t take long. He’s a willing teacher anyway.

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[brandyllyn]

SFW Alphabet: Poe Dameron

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?):

Poe loves watching you talk to other people. He knows how to be charming, to get people laughing and smiling, but people just seem to trust you. Spilling out their deepest secrets without thinking twice about it. He asked you about it once but you just shrugged and said people like it when other’s listen to them and then you’d poked him in the chest with a pointed look. Once you two were done wrestling he’d forgotten the question entirely. B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?):

He loves your hands. Watching you fiddle with a piece of machinery or glide over the controls of your work station / X-Wing. Sometimes, during a meal or just the middle of the day, you’ll reach over and cup his cheek in your palm, tracing your fingers against his temple. It makes him just melt.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?):

You once likened cuddling with Poe to being caught by an especially nice smelling kraken. He just wraps himself around you, every one of his limbs tangled with every one of yours. There is no graceful exit from a Poe cuddle. You’re either in or you’re fighting for your life to get out. D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?):

Poe hasn’t dated much. What he knows about romance is what he remembers of his parents being together. So usually he does things like make meals for you, or take your hand while you’re on a walk and spin you into a dance right then and there. He has plans for when the war is over. Of taking you to someplace safe and tropical and just relaxing. But for now he’s got BB-8 programmed to play music at opportune times and he’ll do what he can to bring a little bit of romance into your life. E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?):

Big emotions. Big. Poe doesn’t have small reactions to most things. He’s either running hot or he’s hiding how he’s feeling. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but you’ve learned over time to decipher the twitch of his eyebrows, how he clenches his jaw. And you coax him into talking with you about things before they can become too big. F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?):

Poe wants kids. A half dozen of them with his nose and your eyes, and another half dozen orphans from the war. He wants to sit on a couch somewhere with your kids in his lap and his arm wrapped around you and just drift off into a peaceful sleep where he won’t have to worry about invading forces.

He’s happy to wait for that as long as it takes to be safe. And if that day is too far in the future where natural kids are off the table - then he’s open to adopting all of them. G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?):

Poe is like a magpie, always finding shiny rocks or shells and leaving them in weird places for you to find. He’s not one for giving big gifts - but every day he finds a stone that’s the same color as your eyes, or he sends you a photo of something he saw that reminded him of you.

For his part, he gets very chuffed when you get him gifts. You got him a scarf a few months ago that he wore every day for a month - proudly telling anyone who commented that it was a gift from you and wasn’t it perfect? H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?):

If you are within three feet of you Poe is reaching for your hand. It’s like it’s automatic. Once you walked up behind him and you’d swear on everything there was no way he knew you were there but his hand reached back anyway and found yours.

When you’re in Command and pressed in with the rest of the crew, sometimes he holds your hand then too. You’re not supposed to, supposed to be professionals and focused on the mission. But it’s like he can’t help himself. I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?):

He would lose his goddamn mind. Once after doing a blood donation in MedBay you fainted on shift and had to be transported back down there. By the time you woke up you found out that he’d tried to force his way inside the MedBay and was sitting in the brig for punching a superior officer. He got off with a warning and cleaning detail but there were standing orders on base that if you ever went into the MedBay again all efforts were to be made to clear a path from Poe to you.

J = Jealousy (do they get jealous?):

Not really? You’re far more likely to get jealous of him talking to someone than he is to get jealous of you. What he gets jealous of is your time. You two have so few moments to just be together, any time you end up doing something else he sulks. Internally. He’d never want you to think he didn’t want you to have friends or interests outside of him. But yeah, if he could spend the rest of his life in bed with just the two of you he’d do that without thinking twice.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?):

Soft. So so soft. It’s like he’s afraid he’s going to break you. Or scare you. Or some other strange thing he has in his head about you. It’s always you that deepens the kiss. Always you that makes things a little rougher, a little needier.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?):

It’s a thousand little things. The stroke of his thumb across the back of your hand. The way he saves the best part of his rations for you. He always has a cup of caf ready for you when you wake up, steaming and hot and just the way you like it.

He says it a lot too. Your favorite is when he nuzzles his nose against yours and just barely whispers it.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?):

Your first kiss will always be one of his favorites. You’d been off together alone somewhere, arguing about Maker only knew what, and the next thing he knew you were kissing him. He’d frozen, convinced that he’d imagined it. But when you started babbling about how you were sorry and would never do it again he had kissed you and you’d melted against him.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?):

Losing. 

Losing the war. Losing his squad. Losing you. It’s a constant pall that hangs over your lives. Sometimes he wakes up in the night from dreams where the squadron goes down. Or the First Order has captured the base. You’re always there to soothe him, to stroke his back and tell him that will never happen.

He knows you can’t make that promise, but somehow hearing you say it makes it almost feel true.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?):

Poe has a thing about bones. He doesn’t like them. Back on Yavin IV there was this cave he accidentally fell into as a boy and was stuck down there for hours in some animal’s abandoned abattoir. Since then, he hasn’t been able to be around old bones without feeling like he might throw up.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?):

Sweetheart, gorgeous, beautiful, sexy. Once after a night of celebrating with the crew and a cask of whiskey, he mumbled something to you in a language you didn’t recognize. When you repeated it back to him he’d pushed you up against the wall and kissed you like his life depended on it, sighing the word into your mouth over and over.

He still won’t tell you what it means - or even what language it is. C-3PO is under strict instructions not to tell you.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?): 

He just likes being near you. If you’re both in your quarters he enjoys sitting with your feet across his lap while you both read. Or going on walks together to look at the stars. Sometimes at Command he positions himself so that he’s closer to you, just to feel the sense of peace that settles over him when you’re near.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?):

Poe enjoys music, really he does. But he’s never really had time or inclination to learn much about it. He likes things that he can dance to with you.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?):

You and he both have secrets. You work in different squads/ departments which means you sometimes have intel that the other doesn’t. You both understand that and try hard not to accidentally push about it.

When it comes to your personal lives Poe is, at times, an over-sharer. He asks you questions about you all the time and will answer truthfully anything you ask him.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?):

Longer than either of you we’re happy with. He knew he wanted you from the first moment - but with everything else going on in the universe there was never time to get to know each other. A few dates were made but always got cancelled. You spent literal months flirting and then sighing melodramatically around each other until it was an act of mercy for Command to give you both the day off and send you off somewhere alone.

When you came back you were a couple.

U = Upset (how do they act when they’re upset?):

He rarely gets truly deeply angry. Annoyed a lot - which usually manifests in an eyeroll or at worst him storming off in a huff for a bit. But when he gets truly, deeply angry he lashes out. Sometimes knocking something over or sometimes even with harsh words. You’ve had to talk to him about that - about saying things that were too harsh in the heat of the moment. He’s working on it but coming along slowly. Thankfully, you two rarely fight.

V = Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?):Poe has never really put much thought into his looks. He knows his hair is too long most of the time, but you seem to like playing with it so he never cuts it until you say something. He never really thought of himself as more than passably handsome until you came into his life. With the number of times you have assured him he’s gorgeous he’s starting to believe it and jokes about entering beauty pageants when the war is over.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting?):

He doesn’t like it. He really doesn’t like it. Not because he thinks you can’t take care of yourself, but because he hates the idea of you getting hurt.

Once, he saw you throw a Wookie over your shoulder during a training exercise and had to stop himself from yelling "That’s my girl!" across the field. So there is that.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?):

He misses signals a lot. Over time, you’ve learned that he’s a fairly direct person and he functions best if you’re direct with him as well. Dropping hints about being upset will generally be met with confusion or him entirely mis-reading the situation and making things worse. The good thing is that he’s very open and willing to communicate. He just needs to know what you want to communicate about so he can be fully onboard.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?): 

Poe wants someone who listens to him - but who will stand up to him when the time comes. He’s not really into super shy or hesitant types. He lives his life fast and wants someone who will either keep up with him or grab him by the scruff of the neck to make him slow down.

He hates pranks. Hates them. Hates being the victim of them and will never ever help in their perpetration. They always seem more cruel to him than humorous.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?):

Sitting in the quiet of space. Radio off, just drifting in his X-Wing. There’s something almost meditative about it. The only other time he feels that way is when you’re holding him in your arms.

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ six

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.9k  ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act one ➻ part six

​

“Wait–” you call out, and Seonghwa stops in his tracks. “I… I have a question for you before we go.”

“Ask away then, princess.” Seonghwa shrugs, pushing loose strands of black hair out of his eyes. You’re surprised that he can even see past the fringe, but you opt not to linger on that thought for very long in favor of getting on with the conversation.

“I still want to know when your dear Scourge made the decision about me. It doesn’t make sense for a man of his reputation to be so merciful, especially considering what he did to the ship I was aboard days ago. So when did he make the decision and why?” You ask the question again, still not convinced by Seonghwa’s previous answer. A half-hearted laugh leaves his lips. He turns away from you and shrouds his expression from view.

“Why is it important though, princess?” He asks in return. The hard soles of his shoes click against the metal floor as he takes a few steps forward, long legs making the strides easy to put distance between the two of you. You don’t follow after him quite yet. You are determined to stand your ground in front of every single one of these men, whether they are criminals or not. While it might not be the smartest idea on your part, you have certainly done a lot worse in your lifetime.

When you choose not to respond immediately, the tall lieutenant spins around on his heel to look back at you. Dark eyes squint, a glare passes over you, yet you can’t quite decipher the expression resting on his features.

“It doesn’t affect anything really, does it? When he made the decision? Why? So… my question for you is why is Hongjoong’s decision still weighing on you?”

“No one hands out favors like that. Especially not someone as notorious as the Scourge of the Black Sea. Of course, I would imagine that the infamous Scourge would put up a better fight.” You cock your head to the side, glaring daggers into Seonghwa’s form. “But he didn’t. So I would like to know why, and seeing as you are his right hand, I think you would know as well.”

“What do you mean by a fight? As I recall, he nearly killed you on more than one occasion. Just because his motives are not obvious doesn’t mean they aren’t there. It’s all in his mannerisms, his posture, the look in his eyes. I can’t count on one hand how many times he thought about killing you in the med bay just now. So elaborate for me: what do you mean by a fight?”

The words cause your stomach to stir a little, discomfort settling into your bones as Seonghwa speaks them, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Part of you wants to ask exactly how many times Hongjoong debated killing you on the spot, but you decide that some things are better left unknown, and that is most certainly one of those things.

“I can’t wrap my mind around him. He isn’t what I expected him to be, and that is what is most unsettling. Years of legend and infamy behind him – surely you understand my surprise when I find those legends to be incorrect?”

“Almost every legend is a lie, Y/N.” It’s the first time Seonghwa has used your first name, and the tone with which he says it sends a chill down your spine. It shifts again a moment later, and what seems to be his regular timbre returns. “You fixate so much on minute details. Surely you understand my confusion concerning that behavior?”

It takes a moment for realization to sink in, but once it does, your expression melts into one of anger. He is mocking you.

“Fine, then let me ask another question. Why do they call you the Lieutenant of Death?” You are hoping for the words to snag a nerve or turn the discomfort over to him, but all you get in response is a clear laugh that rings through the hall. He throws his head back, hair scattering across his forehead. When he brings his head back down to look you in the eye, his tongue glides across his bottom lip as though in preparation to taunt you again.

“Come now, princess. You have an extensive history with the military, do you not? Surely you must know the answer to that question.”

You set your jaw, teeth grinding together, and level Seonghwa with a heated glare. “I am well aware of your history and extensive criminal record, especially since I was assigned to track you down and kill you at one point,” you hiss out.

Seonghwa allows a bit of emotion to shine through his expression, eyebrows raising as you share the information, and he glances away from you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. After a moment of pondering, he breaks into a bout of laughter. It’s a strange reaction to being told that you are his would-be killer, and the longer he laughs the more confused you become.

“W-Why are you laughing?” You stutter out. Seonghwa pauses mid-laugh, looking from the ceiling to you while teasing the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“It’s not every day that you get to meet your would-be assassin,” he states as though the reason for his amusement is obvious. “Although, you must not have put too much effort into fulfilling that task. Especially seeing as I’ve not seen your face outside bounty papers.”

“Part of being an assassin means hiding your identity from your target,” you respond, mimicking his slight smile.

“I wonder if your most recent target saw the face of his killer before he died.” You know exactly what Seonghwa is alluding to, and you would rather not delve into that topic again so you divert the subject.

“I was assigned to your file just before I left the military,” you explain. Seonghwa hums in response, nodding his head a few times.

“So why did you leave the military?” He asks after a breath of silence. Your gaze falls into a glare once more.

“You know why.”

“That isn’t at all what I meant,” Seonghwa smirks as he takes several long strides in your direction. Your first instinct is to back up and put distance between the two of you, but you find yourself completely unable to move so Seonghwa is face to face with you within seconds. “The chains on your wrist… were they there before or after you murdered a king?”

The words spark something in you, an anger you rarely let show, and you press your forearm against Seonghwa’s throat. The strain of the movements causes your wound to sting and burn but you continue moving until you have Seonghwa pinned against the wall. He goes along with your actions even though you both know that he is more than capable of deflecting you easily.

“It fucking wasn’t murder!” You spit out, glaring up at Seonghwa. He arches a brow and matches your glare. Silence lingers after your heated words. Then, within a second, Seonghwa twists your arm behind your back and spins around so that you are the one against the wall now. Your cheek presses roughly against the cool metal, your ears ringing from the harsh impact. Seonghwa leans close to your face and looks you in the eye as he says his next words.

“What was it then? If not murder, then what? Assassination? Sure, plenty of people wanted the king dead but tell me – why would they ever turn to a soldier to do that job for them?”

“Why would you think that the military would let me go with merely a brand?” You hiss back. “If they had given me the brand after killing their king, then wouldn’t you think they would’ve made certain that I had the highest amount of security possible? Why would they ever let me out of their sight? Let me escape? Impossible. The military is stupid but they aren’t that foolish.”

“Your reputation precedes you. They call you the Ghost of Eros for a reason because supposedly you disappeared off the face of the planet after murdering the king.”

You writhe against Seonghwa’s grip. “Their king earned his death. I merely delivered the blow.”

“You keep saying that he was their king, yet he was yours at one point too. You’re so awfully defensive about this topic. You were defensive with Hongjoong too, so it’s more than obvious that something else – or someone else – is involved. There must be more to it than you’re letting on.”

“What? Are you planning to extract the information out of me? I’m afraid that has been tried in the past. You can’t ask them how it turned out because they’re dead now.”

Seonghwa releases your arm and steps back, a quiet laugh leaving his lips as he moves away from you.

“You’re so feisty, princess. If I didn’t know how dangerous you truly are, I might ask you to spar with me one day.”

You push off the wall, turning to face Seonghwa and settling him with a glare. “You’re so romantic, pretty boy. I’m sure all the ladies love when you say that.”

“All the ladies and men, in fact,” Seonghwa replies, a smirk twisting his lips, and he sends a wink in your direction. He starts down the hall again. This time, you follow after him, trailing a couple of feet behind him and watching his back as he walks. “But if you had the brand prior to… killing the king, what made you go back to Eros in the first place?”

“Which time?” You grumble, shifting your shirt back into a state of normalcy. “I’ve been back to Eros many times since I got the brand.”

“That isn’t what I meant…” Seonghwa trails off. He steps further back and looks away from you. “It seems strange that a criminal like you would return to Eros and board a military ship. That is quite ballsy if you ask me.”

All of a sudden, you remember exactly why you were on the ship in the first place. The papers… You grab at your shirt, feeling around at the band around your chest for any sign of the folds of paper, and when you can’t find them there, you pat down your pants instead. Fuck where are they? Fucking hell, after all this time of trying to get these damn papers? I lose them within the first few days?

Seonghwa glances back at you. Concern and question shine through in his gaze, although he doesn’t say anything right away until you drop your arms to your sides in defeat.

“Is everything okay?” He asks.

“Yea, yea,” you mumble back, voice trembling slightly. Did Yunho take them? Why would he take them? Did he give them to Hongjoong? Oh fuck, that’s the last thing I need. What if he uses them and puts his name on them? Shit, I shouldn’t have let them out of my sight. I shouldn’t have forgotten about them in the first place.

Seonghwa is still staring at you. He’s evidently waiting for a further response, but you’re struggling to come up with an excuse on the spot like this.

“I seem to have lost my weapons,” you say with a slight smile.

“Oh? So that’s why you were on that ship? To find your missing weapons?”

“Haha, how very funny, but no.”

“Hongjoong asked Yunho to confiscate your weapons. Can’t have you going rogue and having access to things that could kill us, no?” Seonghwa laughs a little. Despite his insistence that you are a danger, he shows no signs that he is intimidated by you in the slightest. His confidence is still rolling off him in waves, and that scares you more than the body count behind his nickname. “Yet you still haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t plan to. That information is for me to know… and you to not know.” Your response causes Seonghwa to burst into laughter.

“So secretive, princess. If you aren’t careful, I might get intrigued by you.”

“Aw, like you aren’t interested already? You’ve been asking questions left and right as it is.”

Seonghwa comes to a halt, and for a moment you think it’s because of what you said. However, he turns to a door instead and taps at the keypad beside it. The metal slides open with a whoosh, revealing a dark room, and Seonghwa motions for you to follow him inside.

“You have piqued my interest, yes. But being intrigued is a bit different.”

“The difference being?” You inquire as you follow him into the room. The lights flicker on once he steps over the threshold, casting light over a rather simple bedroom.

“Let’s hope you don’t learn the difference,” he says before clearing his throat. He extends an arm to the room. “Your quarters, princess. I’m afraid they’re a bit simple seeing as you don’t have any belongings to put in here, but it has the basics. Bed, bathroom, dresser, mirror, bookshelf should you enjoy reading.”

“Only the best aboard The Horizon, I see.”

Seonghwa releases a huff of laughter. “We aim to please,” he says with a small lilt to his tone. “Some more than others.” You scoff, surprise coursing through you as he says the words, and yet again you find yourself shocked by the boldness of this crew.

“Aren’t you a bit too cheeky for a criminal?”

“Is there a special guide I should be following? ‘Proper ways to be a criminal’? Rule number one: don’t be cheeky with princess, it gets on her nerves.” Seonghwa pokes his tongue out, darting over his bottom lip. “Now, you can come back here later and look around some more, but for now, I need to introduce you to the other crew members. If you’re going to be working with us all, it might be smart for you to know us all before going on any missions with each other.”

Seonghwa brushes past you, shoulder just missing yours, and leads the way out of the room again. You give the room once more scan before turning to follow him. Only one exit. Not even a vent in the damn room. He really does have one of the most secure ships in the galaxy, doesn’t he?

“Now, you’ve met Hongjoong and myself obviously. Yunho as well, and San, I believe?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself in attempts to warm yourself up. The longer you are out here in the halls, the colder it becomes, and your thin shirt is doing very little to block the cold air from touching your skin.

“Hm, we need you to meet Yeosang and Jongho for certain. Wooyoung, as well, although you may not work with him too much. I think we should hold off on introducing you to Mingi, though.”

Wooyoung… That name is somewhat familiar to you. You recall it from the arguments San and Yunho shared, someone who was supposed to help Yunho with your operation but didn’t due to San’s insistence that he was not needed. It strikes you as strange that San would be so determined to hide Wooyoung yet Seonghwa, the Lieutenant, is showing zero hesitation in the slightest when talking about him.

“Wait, why hold off?” You ask, suddenly focused on the last bit of Seonghwa’s comment. He glances back at you over his shoulder, an unreadable emotion in his eyes, and you think he’s not going to respond for a moment.

“He can be a bit aggressive with new people,” Seonghwa mutters. He reaches up to touch his throat, fingers trailing over his skin as though remembering something. He shakes his head and drops his arm to his side when he catches your stare lingering. “Seeing as you are still recovering and Hongjoong set you back a little bit, I don’t think it would be wise to put you further in harm’s way.”

“That’s fair, yes.”

“Yet it still sounds like you are doubting something.”

“Your intentions,” you reply. A sigh leaves Seonghwa’s lips.

“You have issues trusting people, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?”

“When people are doing you a favor and you respond with distrust, yes I can blame you. Hongjoong didn’t have to take you in. You could be dead right now but you aren’t. That’s more than a small favor if you ask me. The least you can do is have some semblance of gratitude. Unless that’s too much to ask for.”

You fall silent at Seonghwa’s comment, continuing to trail after him in silence as he takes you through the ship. He takes your silence as a desire not to talk anymore and doesn’t push for conversation again. In fact, he doesn’t talk for the next ten minutes or so; instead leading you and matching your silence with one of his own. When you reach your destination at long last, you are almost ready to burst because of the awkward tension lingering between you and Seonghwa. Thankfully that doesn’t last long, because a familiar Cheshire smile greets you when you look past Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s up and moving finally,” San says as he comes closer to the two of you. He pays Seonghwa almost zero attention in favor of honing in on you. “With all your limbs intact too. Here I was worried that you might lose your arm before the end of it.” The timbre of his voice is almost like a purr, soothing and alluring. He commands attention with his voice alone, although his appearance helps a bit as well. Now that you are free of your fever-induced haze, you can properly look at him without feeling as though you are going to keel over.

“San,” Seonghwa greets, still facing forward as he talks to the other man.

“Lieutenant. Giving her the tour?”

“Introducing her to the others, actually.”

“Just in time. Almost everyone is here for dinner.”

“I know. That’s why I brought her here now and not later.” Seonghwa beckons for you to follow him again, and you drag your gaze off San and his little cat-like smile in favor of glancing around the new room you’ve entered.

It’s similar to almost every military ship you’ve been aboard: tall walls, an overabundance of tables on either side of the room, and two large archways at opposite ends of the room. It’s a mess hall, although one that is ridiculously big for the amount of people in the room. Near the center of the room, two people sit at a circular table, heads down as though they don’t know that you even exist. Even at a distance, you can hear quite mumblings exchanged between the two. If, according to San, “almost everyone” is present, then Hongjoong must not have many people on his crew to begin with.

“Seonghwa,” you call out before he gets any closer to the table. “How many people are on the crew exactly?”

“Eight, including Hongjoong. I guess nine now with you.”

“That’s it?” You ask, tone incredulous. The most fucking notorious pirate in the whole damn galaxy has a crew of only seven people? Is this some kind of sick joke? What the actual fuck?

“Surprised, princess?” Seonghwa chuckles at the shock in your tone.

“I expected more,” you mumble.

“You seem to expect a lot from a man you had never met prior to today.” Seonghwa doesn’t give you the opportunity to respond. He walks off without waiting for you, forcing you to play catch up, and San trails after the two of you. “Look alive, ladies!”

The two men at the table glance up at Seonghwa, eyes wide in surprise from the sudden intrusion. Their whispering halts in an instant. Rather than looking at Seonghwa, both sets of eyes land on you.

Just from a quick glance at the one on the right, you can tell that he’s a Berserker. It’s really only because of the red hue to his irises, because otherwise he doesn’t look at all like any of the Berserkers you’ve come into contact with over the years. Nonetheless, he exudes the same intimidating aura that you remember from previous encounters with people of his kind. Head crowned with dark brown hair, he has a slightly boyish look to him, especially compared to the man at his side.

The man in question bears lengthy blonde hair, stained brown at the roots and parted down the middle. He has sharp features that are so symmetrical that it looks at though he was cut from marble. Royal. Or former royal, considering where he is and who he is aligned with. Those sharp eyes bore holes into you, clear and blueish green like the sea you grew up seeing every day.

“Y/N, that’s Jongho on the right, and here on the left is Yeosang. Berserker and Elitist respectively.” The blonde’s class fits his appearance quite well but leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. You’ve never had good experiences with Elitists, especially since the military was overflowing with the Class, but it’s quite odd that an Elitist would be part of a band of pirates. They tend to stay on the right side of the law, which means something about this Yeosang isn’t quite right.

You once again remember exactly where you are and who surrounds you. While you don’t know what Yeosang and Jongho – or San for that matter – are known for, you do know that they are just as dangerous as the Lieutenant of Death on your left.

“You will probably be working with Yeosang quite a bit, perhaps Jongho as well.”

The blonde stands upon hearing Seonghwa’s words and steps around the table to get closer to you. He stares you down, eyes still keeping you rooted to the spot.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ghost of Eros,” he says after a moment of glancing over you. His tone is quiet, soft like silk, yet those eyes remain unblinking and unsettling. “I believe I have you to thank for the death of my former king.” You blink up at him, eyes falling into a narrow glare. He extends an arm in your direction. You barely recognize what he’s doing, but realization washes over you soon enough. It’s the military handshake; a sign of finding fellow soldiers in the field should you be on a covert mission, but Yeosang is using the wrong arm. You blink down at his arm, eyes flitting over his wrist. The skin is raised there, and the delicate pattern of chains rests on the inside of his wrist. You hesitantly meet his with yours, gripping his forearm weakly, and the brand on your own wrist brushes against his.

“Oh, how fancy. Two traitors in one room. Can’t wait to hear them exchange military stories,” San chirps from your side, glancing around your shoulder to watch you and Yeosang interact with interest.

“Aw, if I had known we were doing a meet up with the new girl, I would’ve come sooner!” A new voice resounds behind you. It causes your head to spin, a swirling of confusion, and you stumble back from Yeosang. You would fall if not for his continued grip on your arm. You jerk towards the sound of the voice, eyes finding the new form and recognizing him in an instant. Charcoal hair. Tan skin. Metal collar. It’s the little shit who plugged an anesthesia shot into your neck.

✧✧✧

a/n: hi hello it’s 5 pm on a tuesday yaknow what that means! i hope you all like this chapter, i personally feel like it’s a bit weaker and not a lot happens aofijdoij so im really sorry about that, i hope that the next chapter is better!

i forgOT TAGS IM SORRY

taglist: @faeriewoobin​ @sugarrimajins​ @atinyinwonderland​ @2504-life

rather than sending me a ko-fi, i ask that you consider donating to the BLM movement!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[wherearemyglassesbro]

i saw that you play genshin impact, so i’m kind of curious... what’d be the axis and allies’ vision and weapons?

Uh oh...now you got me started. Be warned, it’s a long one cause I have no self control

Some key terms for those who don’t play genshin impact and want to be included!!

Cryo -> ice, Hydro -> water, Dendro -> nature, Geo -> rock, Pyro -> fire, Electro -> lightning

Hilichurls: a common enemy found in the wild. Despite looking like hairy trolls, they have a district language as well as texts, art and song that they share together making them an advanced species!

Ruin guards: another enemy. Giant, scary robot...they scare me...

Knights of Favonious: an organization of knights within Mondstat that keep order and peace :) very nice guys and gals over there!!

Mondstat: modeled after Germany

Liyue: modeled after China

Alfred: pyro, claymore, Springvale Mondstat

Alfred would be a super heavy hitter in battle but his drawbacks are that despite his energetic nature, he’s slower because of the weight of his weapon

He blows stuff up a lot and sets all of the grass around you on fire so if you fight with him...His teammates will take damage from him Jeez Louise!!!

Since we don’t have all of the nations of Teyvay unlocked, I don’t know where he’d be from! I’d have to explore to get a sense for it so for characters that don’t have a place on the map yet, I’ll mark them with an asterisk from now on! :)

Idk where he lives but I do know that he’d be a devoted member of the adventurers guild! He’s always willing to offer a helping hand to anyone in need! Wether it be helping Granny Ann make hash browns or taking comissions to go kill a huge ruin guard who’s terrorizing the town!! He’s always leaping into new jobs! He isn’t even in it for the money or rewards! He just loves helping out!

Arthur: Dendro, archer, Mondstat

Artie is a beast in battle! Shooting vine Aries at enemies to tie them up or temporarily blind them??? Sick as fuck. Keep in mind, Genshin doesn’t have any Dendro characters that are playable yet so idk how they’d fight but I think I can guess :)

Artie is technically part of the knights of favonious because he works in their library. He translates books written in ancient texts into the standard language so historians and others can read what the old civilizations had to say

Instead of having normal eyes, they’re slit like snake eyes. And he has leaves instead of hair :)

He has a little seelie that floats around at his side. He talks to it but it doesn’t really do anything but provide company to a lonely guy :’) he needs more friends

Matthew: Anemo, catalyst, *

It’s always good to have a catalyst on your team! Ningguang is a great example of an underestimated catalyst cause she can do INSANE damage man!! So I think Mattie would be the same way

Matt isn’t violent and doesn’t enjoy fighting so his in-game voice lines would say that lol

Mattie is an alchemist! Well...A student alchemist. He didn’t take up an interest in alchemy until like, 3 years ago so he’s got a lot to catch up on still! He’s doing his best!

He gets very annoyed with Alfred since Mattie is detail oriented and gentle...Alfred is not any of those things. But he still loves his brother and on rare occasions, he’ll assist him with his commissions

Ivan: Cryo, catalyst, Liyue(temporary)

Ivan would be a support character for sure but he’d do a damn good job of doing it

He’s buff but he doesn’t do hand to hand combat, he’s mastered magic for a reason

Ivan spends most of his time studying hilichurls. He writes books about them, translates their texts and acts as a peace keeper when he can. He gets information from them about the Abyss Order in return for free reign of small portions of protected land where they can live without fear of being killed

Because he’s from Schneznya(spelling?) he’s kinda expected to be a bad guy but he left a long time ago. But he still sounds like he’s from there and...He’s super pale too so there really is no mistaking where he’s from

Ivan can’t stand how ignorant humans are towards hilichurls so he does everything he can to advocate for them. He’s covered in scars from when he first started engaging with the beasts. A huge scar runs down his face but he doesn’t mind it

He’s got big, sharp teeth!! So he doesn’t often smile cause he thinks he looks weird

Francis: Hyrdo, long sword, *

Fran is underestimated when it comes to combat (like Kaeya...I see you slandering this man) but he has so much potential!

Since he’s a hydro, he is so useful for elemental reactions! If he’s paired with a cryo or pyro user, he’d totally boost them!!

Fran is a traveling entertainer, he goes between the 7 nations as a singer and actor for small stage plays. He has a crew of friends who travel with him, they’re one jolly bunch!

He always acts all nonchalant and stuff but once he’s in a battle, he’s wild. Especially if the abyss order holds up his crew on their way to their next tour destination “We need to be in Liyue Harbor in four hours you are NOT holding us back!” *tidal wave*

He’s a regular tavern hopper! A very recognizable face since he’s been banned from a handful for getting too rowdy

He can make not one, but 2 special dishes :0

Yao: Dendro, polearm, Liyue

I just imagine him as a shorter, richer and cooler version of Zhongli

He’d do that kick move that Zhongli does with his polearm oh man that looks SICK dude!!!

Yao would shoot vines out and they’d strangle enemies for a few seconds before disintegrating but if he’s leveled up enough, they’ll totally strangle those stupid hillichurls lol

Yao sells rare gems and other miscellaneous items for very high prices in Liyue where he grew up. His shop is upstairs by the Fatui bank. Rich people enjoy looking at what his shop has to fifer and will argue prices with him. They’re getting scammed for sure. He’ll list a set of cor lapis earrings as $50,000 and the rich will be like ‘I’ll pay $25,000, no more than that’ and he’ll take it!!....Cause thise earrings are worth $5000 at most >:)

Hes close with a lot of the higher ups in Liyue and is often invited to fancy lunches or dinners where they discuss policy, contracts and vendor permits. He doesn’t really get a say in any of that but he benefits from listening

Kiku: Electro, claymore, *

Kiku would be SUCH an awesome electo user are you KIDDING me??? I can see it now, him swinging that huge sword around, purple lightning bolts flying all around and he looks like a total badass? Amazing vibes

When paired with cryos???? He’d do an insane amount of damage fr

Kiku runs a small restaurant where he...runs the place...but doesn’t cook. His restaurant is extremely exclusive and people often throw fits when they can’t get in cause the wait list is over 5 years long. He’ll rest his hand on their shoulder and smile ‘is something wrong? I’d love to take a complaint if you have one’...No one has even dared to complain to his face lol

Behind the restaurant front he deals with the Fatui, buying and selling minerals or artifacts. That’s where his knowledge is at, not with food. He pays his staff to ignore what goes on behind the scenes and the locals are too busy enjoying the restaurant to question what goes on after dark

Gilbert: Pyro, long sword, Mondstat

Gil would be one of the free characters given to you at the beginning of the game but hey, I’m not complaining

He’s highly destructive and very chaotic in battle, he can do that spin move even though that’s meant for claymore users

He’s Mondstat’s biggest trouble maker. He runs an underground gambling room that sits underneath a tavern. He isn’t really into gambling but he makes a lot of money by running it

The only knight who knows is Ludwig which is not good cause...Gil pretty much bribes his brother into not telling the knights of favonious (peace keepers of Mondstat)

Gil never got his gliding certificate cause he kept flying into buildings. He broke his nose doing that lol

Lovino: Pyro, catalyst, *

I can’t add anymore images so imagine a floating, red and black orb. Lovi doesn’t get a book catalyst cause he doesn’t read :) That’s the catalyst thing I’m talking about 😅😅

My guy has the angriest in game voice lines, he’s inconvenienced by every battle, every enemy is ugly and a fuckin disaster. He’s just. Angry.

He’d be a super weak character if he needed to rely on hand to hand combat but he learned magic for a reason babey

He owns a flower stand in his country and makes all kinds of beautiful flower arrangements. He even picks his own flowers in the fields when he can (but usually pays the town’s children to do it for him to ‘teach them the value of hard work’).

Everyone knows he’s a total hothead and will piss him off on purpose just cause it’s funny lmao. But then somehow...Their hair or clothes will just...catch on fire. So is it really worth it to tease him? :/

Feliciano: Hydro, archer, Mondstat(temporary)

I feel like Feli would also be a free character, not cause he isn’t good or anything! But you always need an archer on your team!

Feli has healing properties for his team and doesn’t do an insane amount of damage but when given the right resources, he’d be a pretty sick healer

He moved to Mondstat to join the church there. He leads prayers in front of the church and sings in the choir inside.

He is the sweetest and has never committed a crime in his LIFE but he’s afraid of the knights lol he’s terrified that he’ll get in trouble and be kicked out of Mondstat forever! That would never happen but he’s a worry wart cause of his brother

Ludwig: Geo, long sword, Mondstat

Lud is the only one that I could really think of as a Geo but Geos are awesome :)

He’s a hard hitter but has like...No shield so he’ll take damage fast if you don’t give him those artifacts with shield in them or whatever lol uhhhh I wouldn’t know anything about that cause I suck at building my teams ;-;

He’d totally be in with the knights of favonious! (I think that’s spelled right lol) but he’d take his duty as a knight very seriously!! He’s a familiar face around Mondstat, the elderly absolutely adore him and the local teenage girls swoon over him which he finds super embarrassing lol

He has to work hard to keep Gilbert in check cause even though Gil isn’t a knight, his actions reflect negatively back on Lud very often... :(

Please ignore the spelling errors and terrible photo cropping on my part lol this was so fun!!

By the time you’re seeing this, ive already made full outfit red sheets for everyone mentioned above!!!! :D

[sophi-s]

Cost of Kindness

Chapter IV: Complications

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6,656

Characters: Raphael, Original Female Character (OC), Fury

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Swearing (a lot of it XD)

Summary:

After far too many close calls and an adventure that will last her a lifetime, Nicola and Raphael finally make their way towards Haven. Unfortunately, not everything goes as smoothly as it could.

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Many, many centuries ago taking off to the grand skies has become one of humanity's greatest dreams. They always wished to be able to fly, envying birds their wings and wishing to join them in their aerial conquest. It took many more ages to even try to think of it seriously and even longer for the humans to create the first working airplane and fulfill their dreams as the gravity kept thwarting all their plans. But once this seemingly impossible goal was accomplished, this event has been recorded on the pages of history as one of the most remarkable inventions of the human race.

When she was little, Nicola dreamed of flying on her own as well. She loved watching birds, tracking the planes soaring through the sky, so far away they looked like ants, and thinking about how it would be to have her own wings. Her dreams eventually were abandoned as she grew older, more serious and more reasonable. But honestly, if a week ago someone asked her if she would choose to have wings if she could, Nicola without hesitation would reply "a huge YES". Now however, she realised something she didn't really take into consideration before. While humans wished to rule the skies, they absolutely were not created for this. They have been made flightless, earth-ridden creatures and for a good reason. Her very apparent fear of heights made it awfully clear to her.

These thoughts were all Nicola could hear aside from the rustling of feathers on the wind as she desperately held onto her angel friend, her heart hammering in her chest, eyes wide and stomach making somersaults while everything was spinning around like a carousel. At a certain height the human body just starts to give up and refuse cooperation. For those who are afraid of heights the gap is even smaller and the symptoms more severe. All that was keeping her from fainting or throwing up there and then was the fact that she refused to look down to see how high they actually were but imagining the small buildings below her wasn't making it much better. If she survives this, she will never ask any angel for a fly again and - if it will ever be possible after the apocalypse - stay the heck away from any sort of working plane. Ground was where she belonged. Flying was not her cup of tea and no one will ever convince her otherwise.

Raphael seemed oblivious to the silent prayers spilling past her lips and just kept flying, fully focused on his destination, as she was absolutely certain she's going to die. Her muscles were completely stiff, as though she looked Medusa in the eye. She couldn't even see anything with how her face was buried in the rumpled fabric of Raphael's clothes but she assumed they were getting closer and closer. Focus on anything else than the height. Anything! She kept telling herself when her jaw started to hurt from how she was clenching her teeth. Easier said than done. Nicola knew that Raphael wasn't going to drop her. He promised her and lately she learned to trust him but the pull of gravity beckoning her down into the abyss and to a long plummet ending in a painful impact and certain death… The last time she was this panicked was when the Fallen jumped her out of nowhere. Speaking of which… God, please, let this be a smooth flight. No demons, I'm begging you..

Encounter with stray demons was the last thing they needed now. She didn't doubt Raphael's ability to defend both her and himself but if a flying demon was to attack them from surprise… Not a single part of her already malfunctioning brain could produce a scenario that wouldn't end in either of them dying or at least suffering grave injuries. In short words, any sort of aerial confrontation would mean serious trouble. And trouble wasn't something Nicola missed. Especially after the last night..

Seems like her prayers have been answered. So far nothing noticed an angel and a human passing overhead. And those demons which did apparently decided not to bother them since it didn't seem worth it or had no way of giving them trouble from where they were standing. Nicola stopped counting seconds of their journey long ago and the only indication of the passing time was the wind rushing through her hair slowing down as Raphael started to try and spare as much energy as he could, gliding whenever possible on his wings simply stretched out on both sides and flapping them only to keep the right height, out of range of any demons that could be sulking below when he began to grow weary. His stamina wasn't probably in the best condition after the time he spent in hiding and most likely not moving much.

When she gets back to Haven, Nicola is going to first, eat a solid lunch since her stomach was displeased again - though now she couldn't really feel it twisted in panic like that - second, go the fuck to sleep for the rest of the day. Even though she spent the last night sleeping like a dead woman, she didn't feel that well rested. The amount of stress she had to endure exhausted her and a few hours of rest weren't enough to regenerate her full strength. High on her bucket list was also taking care of Raphael, to at least make him look decent and dress any wounds he carried. Elanya could do that too but Nicola couldn't imagine that Raphael would let a maker he doesn't know do anything to him. She remembered how distrustful he was in the beginning. And after she gets back, no more escapades if not necessary. At least two weeks long break. Ulthane is going to make sure she stays there anyway so she might as well spend her time on sleeping and some light activities. 

Speaking of Ulthane… Nicola wasn't actually sure what she'd say to him once she suddenly showed up in Haven after all that time with a traumatized, crazy angel at her side. To say it will be awkward as heck, would be a severe understatement. It's not even about Raphael. How is she going to explain herself to the overbearing maker who is standing on his head to save the last survivors of her kind while, by nearly killing herself three times already, she acted nothing if not ungrateful? And honestly, she wasn't in shape to wonder about it now because her mind refused to focus on anything else than this one thought of the lethal distance between her and the ground. Damn it all.. Why does she have to be afraid of heights and find out this very unpleasant way? Really, if someone tried to take her from Raphael before he landed or too short time after, they'd probably need a crowbar to pry her off him.

While Nicola thought that the flight itself was awful, the moment her stomach seemed to move up into her gullet as Raphael dipped towards the ground she unwittingly shrilly cried out in fear. And that was a mistake. The angel, startled by the quiet human he'd been holding this entire time suddenly screaming bloody murder for no apparent reason, tried to halt his descent to figure out what's wrong but it was already too late for that. As a result the landing was rather rough. Nicola closed her eyes and so she didn't see how Raphael clumsily hit the ground and barely kept himself propped up not to land on top of her as she slipped out of his grasp and lost her grip on his robes. The expectations of a long fall made her throat tighten and trap her voice inside. All the bigger relief once after barely an inch or two, her back connected with the surface, drawing a soft and strained "oof" from her.

Still scared, disoriented and confused, Nicola opened her eyes to see wide-eyed Raphael hunched over her, hands on either side of her head - with the staff to her left - and gawking at  her with a slight panic on his face. Goodness, he was way too close. Pulling her arms close to her body in a helpless attempt to regain her personal space, she smiled awkwardly.

"H-hi there!"

The moment he saw that nothing was wrong and her face regained some of its color, Raphael breathed with relief and got off her, once again offering his hand to help her up. Once back on her feet, Nicola nearly cried out when she felt the solid ground under the soles of her boots. Blessed earth, she could literally kiss it right now. But the fact that they were not in Haven yet disconcerted her a little. Looking around, she noticed they're in an empty street in the middle of nowhere. Casting a questioning glance at Raphael she didn't even need to ask. The way his wings were slumped against his back, his breath heavier than before said it all. Plain and simple, Raphael was tired. Too tired to keep going. Still, he was eyeing her cautiously.

"Why… why were you screaming?"

Still feeling the nausea and the shaking of her knees, Nicola scratched the back of her neck and turned her eyes away ashamed.

"Ahuh… I'm not-... I'm not used to flying, that dip scared me a little. Sorry about this.."

Raphael said nothing to this, simply nodded, and lowered himself to the dusted road to have a seat by one of the decrepit stores. Nicola decided to let him have his five minutes to rest before going any further. Store. She suddenly realised. And not just any. A grocery store. At the mere thought her stomach rumbled. Not only could she have something for herself but also gather some stuff for others! If anything there is still edible that is. It wouldn't hurt to check. Every bit of food is precious.

"Raphael, can you wait here for a bit? I'll be back in a jiffy."

Out of the corner of her eye she already saw him shift in apprehension and almost begin to stand up. Probably because she ran once already and in his mind could do it again. She proceeded to calm him down immediately by pointing at the building she intended to search.

"I'll just go in there to look for stuff, don't worry. I will come back."

Staring at her for a couple of intense seconds, Raphael eyed her from head to toe twice before his concerned gaze softened a bit.

"Promise me…?"

Nicola smiled reassuringly and nodded. There weren't many options for her if she did want to run off. Besides, she wasn't quite sure where she was just yet. Her orientation in terrain was… less than decent as of late.

"I promise."

She offered and once Raphael sat somewhat comfortably back down, she took her backpack and shotgun - just in case - and stepped in through a broken window. The inside of the store was in utter disarray and even that was putting it lightly. Most of the shelves were toppled over, some even in pieces. Glinting shards of glass littered the floor, crunching under Nicola's feet every time she made a step. Unsurprisingly, nothing was working. No lights, no freezers, no ventilation. No time to waste. Nicola began her search immediately.

Approaching the fruit stand greeted her with bitter disappointment. Apples, oranges, pears and many other fruits were already rotten and sometimes even coated in white specks of mould. Definitely not good. With vegetables it was exactly the same. The only carrot that looked acceptable at first, turned out to have been completely wilted. Tossing it aside, Nicola moved on. She didn't even bother looking for meat. The stench hit her the moment she came inside and were it not for the smell of decomposing corpses that drifted around the sewers when she was there, she probably would've thrown up where she stood. Instead, she just covered her mouth and nose with her bandana.

Any dairy products were off the table too. Without working freezers every single one of them has surely gone sour by now. A diarrhea was not something she wanted to have in Haven and most likely neither did the makers. Nicola didn't dare to so much as touch any eggs that still were somehow intact. Bad idea. A smelly one as well. There's no way some of them haven't gone bad yet. The risk wasn’t worth it. Passing by one of the mostly whole shelves, she absent mindedly grabbed a bag of dry cat food and stuffed it into her backpack. It was highly probable that most of the survivors would be feeding the kitten with any leftovers but.. just to make sure the poor thing doesn't starve to death.

Most of the jars have broken during initial earthquakes but two small jars of pickles seemed to be mostly alright. Without giving it much thought, she placed them in her backpack. Four bags of freeze-dried fruits quickly found their way into her pockets once she got a hold of them. Under a broken shelf, Nicola spotted an edge of some packet. Assuming it was just crackers or something, she reached into the rubble for it but once she pulled it out… she immediately regretted her decision. It was, in fact, not a bag of crackers. It was a whole, torn bag of soured cabbage coated in some strange growth - probably mould - she didn't get a chance to really look at because her attention was caught by something inside the bag. Probably squeezed in through the tear and got stuck, a small, bloated body of a gigantic, hellish critter. Instinctively, Nicola yelped quietly and without giving it much thought she lobbed the thing across the whole store before wiping her hand on the nearest piece of rag that wasn't her clothes. She didn't even get any of the spilling juices on her but… gross. Just gross. Ew ew ew! Ignoring the wet splat the bag made when it hit the floor wasn't an easy task. Still shaking off the disgust, she continued her search, noting to herself never to touch something she isn't sure what it is.

From there it thankfully was starting to go much smoother. Two packets of crispbread, some dark chocolate and a box of tea were found and collected. Nicola nearly cheered out loud when she spotted a few Snickers on a shelf. One she immediately opened and eagerly ate while the rest landed safely in her backpack. It might be mostly sugar with a bit of peanuts but it was a good snack that could deceive the brain for quite some time. To be frank, Nicola lived half of the high school on those whenever her lessons lasted too long for her breakfast to keep her sated. Besides, she couldn't imagine others would mind her bringing a bunch. Especially Marie. Jacob will most likely strangle Nicola if his daughter eats too much sweets but in the end it'll be worth it. Anything would be worth putting a smile on that sad little face.

Somewhere on the floor, Nicola even found a box of vitamins which luckily was not out of date yet. With a deficit of fruits and vegetables, those could be lifesavers. Especially for Leslie. She needs the most of it. Unfortunately, the space in her backpack was very much limited and soon she couldn't put anything more in there. Rearranging the contents of it, she put in one bottle of water, careful not to crush the crispbread and chocolate. At least she found something. Her escapade wasn't all for nothing when it comes to supplies. But even without those, she wouldn't say she regrets it. Against all the odds, she lived. And most importantly, she gained an otherworldly friend. And in times like these, a friend is something to be treasured.

Slinging her now much heavier backpack on her shoulders, she picked up her gun and headed towards the broken window she used as an entrance before. Peeking out from the store, she saw Raphael where she'd left him and a very much awake cat playfully attacking the longest quill of his left wing. His head perked up when she dropped onto the sidewalk beneath the window and she could've sworn she'd seen the corner of his mouth twitch upwards for a second there. Smiling, she unfolded her hands and shrugged.

"See? I keep my promises."

The angel hummed quietly before leaning his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. Nicola was about to ask if he's good to go but let the thought perish when she noticed his eyebrows furrow and his chapped lips twist into a slight grimace. Soon after, his right hand wandered up to his chest as he took a couple of quick and shallow breaths through his clenched teeth. If Nicola didn't know any better, she'd have said Raphael was having a heart attack. Can an angel even have an infarct? She honestly had no idea. In fact, she didn't even know how old he is. She couldn't tell. All the angels she'd met so far had white hair so that's not a hint to go by and his face didn't necessarily look old or young. He seemed as ageless as the time itself. Still, she didn't want to take any chances.

"Raphael? What's wrong?!"

She asked as she crouched beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him if needed. Raphael simply slowly shook his head and turned to look at her tiredly. And in his blank eyes she saw the already familiar pain and a spark of a silent plea.

"Just a little longer.. Let me rest a while…"

It took everything Nicola had in her to stop the sigh of relief. It didn't sit right with her that Raphael was still suffering and she could do absolutely nothing about it but hearing he's mostly fine, with only the usual ailing him, made her feel a tad easier. When his breathing grew slower and calmer, she even let herself slip down to the floor beside him.

"Sure. We have time, I guess.."

It was still relatively early, barely an hour or two after noon and Nicola wasn't that eager to return into the sky so soon. Only thinking about it made her feel a little sick. Hopefully, it wasn't too far to Haven from here. Even though Nicola really wanted to finally get home, she decided to be patient with her companion. He was wounded and most likely ill but he still tried his best to help her, even though he hadn't known her that long. He deserves a moment. Nicola too needed to sit down for a second as her thigh was still a bloody nuisance. Just a few more minutes. It wouldn't do harm to have a little break now, would it?

Yes. Yes it would. Nicola suddenly realised when she saw the kitten arc its back and puff its tail out. It hisses loudly before scurrying away into the store she just left and soon enough Nicola realised why once she looked into an alley ahead of her. The sight of a massive, winged shape made it painfully obvious. Her heart nearly ceased and Raphael beside her tensed at the sight of an enormous demon with curved horns and teeth, each the size of her palm, resembling a set of barbed knives made specifically to cut meat. The edges of long healed wounds that left behind terrible scars on her abdomen began to itch as she gawked at the familiar monster that nearly took her life. Flapping of gigantic wings that covered the sky with its expanse… Razor sharp claws curling around her body… the same talons tearing into her flesh as Ulthane attempted to free her from its grasp. And this shriek… oh God, this shriek…

Despite the apparent pain and exhaustion, Raphael slowly - not to agitate the demon - got up to his feet and raised his wings threateningly as he stepped in front of aghast Nicola. The fact that due to its bulkiness this thing seems almost twice as large as he is doesn't make an impression on him. Or maybe it does but he doesn't show it. The Fallen stared at Raphael with its small red eyes as a pair of Phantom Guards rounded a corner and joined the beast. Each carried a jagged blade that could easily tear through angelic armor. Nicola had seen it happen. Following them was another bloody Goreclaw. But these three she barely even noticed. Her wide eyes were focused on the larger demon. She felt her muscles refuse cooperation and seize. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her mind repeatedly screamed No nono no NO! Not like this!!

With excited roars, the lesser demons charged towards the angel standing between them and the weak, pathetic and helpless human as the Fallen spread its wings and took off into the air. Even as Nicola kept stone still, Raphael remained sharp and ready to act as always. One spell spilled past his lips and the flying demon instantly went rigid before plummeting back onto the ground and crashing into a broken car, setting its annoying alarm off. It didn't discourage the other three but it let Nicola find will to move and clutch her gun tighter. Ever since she'd met Raphael, he'd been doing nothing but getting her arse out of trouble. Taking a shaky breath she decided to start repaying favors.

Though, once again she didn't really have a chance to do anything as she was dumbstruck by the following scene playing out before her. As the hellish monsters charged, Raphael took his staff in both hands and held it before himself, closing his eyes and muttering an incantation in his melodious language. The moment the first demon stepped a tad too close, Raphael's eyes snapped open, burning like two white suns and a sleek ethereal blade materialized from the tip of what Nicola previously thought just an ornament or a walking cane. It glowed like the purest light ever to exist. Another assumption Nicola made about Raphael turned out to have been false. The last thing she can say about him is unarmed. He carried no blade, no gun or anything but who needs a weapon as lame as those when in addition to powerful sorcery you have a freaking lightsaber?

Everything lasted less than a second as the angel led a wide, sweeping slash of his spectral sword… spear thing… and promptly relieved the Phantom Guard of its horned head, before stopping the pouncing Goreclaw with a flick of his free hand, suspending it in the air growling and hissing. The other Phantom Guard had no chance to either attack the vulnerable angel or retreat, when Raphael was busy cutting down the quadrupedal demon, as Nicola came back to her senses and, instead of running like she always has, jumped forward and fired her shotgun. The resounding bang travelled through the entire city, bouncing off the walls and drifting far into the desolate town but it had the effect Nicola counted on.

The Phantom Guard staggered backwards with a chest full of buckshot, wheezed a couple times and tripped over onto its back never to get up again. With adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Nicola stared at the either dead or dying demon in wonderment, her brain trying to process what just happened, before releasing a breathless laugh of triumph. She killed one. She actually killed one! Raphael too seemed rather surprised but not unpleasantly so as he let the blade fade away.

"I got it! Did you see that?!"

"That indeed, I have.."

He said as he eyed her carefully, probably just to check if she's fine. Aside from a little fresh blood on his boots and hands, Raphael didn't seem to have gotten hurt in any way. Well… more than he'd already been at least. Nicola beamed up at him nearly bursting with pride at her actual first kill on a demon larger than her shin. And he seemed happy for her, if the soft smile he regarded her with could be an indication. But this victory didn't last long. Her own smile faded when she saw the Fallen stiffly getting up from where it slammed onto the ground, pure rage on its monstrous face. Her pulse began to race again but this time she refused to let the panic get a hold of her just yet.

"Watch out!!"

She cried too late, just a sliver of a second too late. Raphael whipped around to face the attacker and all he managed to do was raise his hand before the charging demon swung its head to the left. And with the force of a truck driving at the speed of fifty miles per hour, slammed it into the angel, making a formula of a spell die on his lips as he was sent flying through the air and crashing against a nearby building. The force of the impact caved in the wall and the kind, mad angel disappeared in a cloud of dust. All that was left were a couple of white feathers slowly falling to the ground.

"NO!"

Nicola didn't pay any mind to how her voice broke and squeaked pitifully when her heart leaped up into her throat. She could only stare at the place where Raphael vanished with a rumbling crash as the enraged demon growled in the same direction. Not a single part of her being agreed with what she'd just witnessed. A second before he was standing right there, like nothing was about to happen, distracted by her gushing over her first serious kill. Nothing should have happened, why did the demon unravel Raphael's magic just like that? Even a Shadowcaster didn't manage to do that! Why would this one? And why… Tears welled up in her eyes as her lower lip trembled… why did it have to… end the way it did…?

To make matters worse, the Fallen was still before her, still furious and thirsting for blood. Not wasting more time, Nicola pulled out a handful of new bullets and tried to reload her weapon but it proved almost impossible with how much her hands were shaking. Thank Christ, the demon was taking its sweet time as it faced her and began to lumber towards her on all fours, huffing out breaths stinking of rotting meat. Faster, faster, damn it! Nicola cursed inwardly when she dropped a couple of shells before she finally managed to place the ammunition where it should be. But when she looked up, the Fallen was on top of her already. Parting its jaws wide, ready to swallow her whole.

The scream of anguish that felt so tempting in the back of her throat never came to be. In a second, Nicola thought about all the horrors she'd lived through. All demons she'd met, all shambling corpses of former humans brought back by vile sorcery. All friends she'd made and lost.. Raphael, do just one thing for me. She gritted her teeth as her knuckles turned white from how she was gripping her weapon. Despair started to turn into rage. Burning bright and white hot inside of her, the flame Raphael had helped her see. Please, be alive when I come for you… The demon lunged forward to sever the string of her measly life by biting her in half. But Nicola wasn't going to let it get her so easily. Her fear was forgotten as she stuck the barrel of her shotgun into the monster's opened maw. She didn't want to die. Not now, not like this. For once she wanted to have a say over her own fate. Over the date of her demise. She is still young, she had a whole life ahead of her. And all those demonic dickheads with the Destroyer leading the charge decided to ruin everything and not only for her, but for every human who lives still and who has perished. And those who are yet to be born. She refused. She will not die. Not here. Not killed by that thing.

"FUCKOFF!!!"

And she fired. Partially, the sound was muffled by the demon's mouth snapping shut just barely missing Nicola's arms as she let go of her gun. The Fallen recoiled and began to shriek in pain, spitting out its own blood onto the concrete at its feet. Nicola didn't have delusions she could kill it but it gave her the precious seconds she needed. She ran for the closest hiding place available, which was the store she just left. Nicola leaped in through the broken window and quickly made it to the opposite wall to put as much distance between herself and the writhing monstrosity as possible. And it was a good choice.  A loud roar from the street made her heart fall into her heels as the injured demon finally gathered its bearings.

Nicola looked at the Fallen that was coming her way with murder in its eyes. The unexpected bout of courage has long faded and the petrifying fear once again had Nicola in its chilling grasp. Even with the mouthful of bullets, the Fallen did not intend to give up on its prey. And here she hoped it would piss off if she fed it with lead… Snarling and panting, the demon approached the broken window with its own blood pouring from between its sharp fangs. It only added to the menacing image of the beast that had Nicola trembling and frozen.

Think, Nicola, THINK! What can she do against an opponent far bigger, stronger and more dangerous than a single human without a weapon? The Fallen was trying to fit through the window, reaching out with its clawed paw to try and get her. Nicola looks around in panic, looking for anything that could save her. In a grocery store. Good luck. Eventually, she says "fuck it" and grabs a most likely rancid egg. The laughably small projectile splatters over the face of the demon with a squelch and even from far away Nicola is sure this egg was definitely rotten. Even the Fallen stops for a second to shake the disgusting goop off of its head but before it's done, another egg flies through the air and cracks on its head, just as stinky as the previous one.

"How'd ya, like that, asshole?! Wanna have some more?!"

Nicola yells at the demon, holding yet another egg, fully prepared to just chuck it at the monster. Unfortunately, all she managed to do was piss it off even further as its efforts in reaching her doubled. Pieces of plaster and bricks were coming loose as the demon tried to wriggle into the shop to finally kill that annoying pest lobbing small, smelly things at it. As a result, an egg once again hit the demon while Nicola kept shouting out profanities that probably made her poor mother toss and turn in her grave. She's not going down without a fight, even if the said fight is done by throwing eggs and all the gross shit she found on the floor. But she knew she isn’t getting out of this one.

And so, this is it. Nicola couldn't believe she would die by the claws of the same creature that nearly killed her once before. Was Ulthane rescuing her only delaying the inevitable? What a sick joke… Why does fate insist on being cruel? There was so much she wanted to say, so many apologies she had to give… so little time… There was nothing she could do. At least… she will see Nicholas again.. her parents and every friend she'd lost in this cursed apocalypse. A miracle would've been nice. A tiny one. Just this once. Please?

And boy, did she get her wish. A sudden force violently tearing the Fallen out of the shop nearly startled her out of her dirty and tattered jeans. Hardly believing her eyes, she watched as her would-be killer screeched in rage and surprise when it was wrenched free from the ruined window and was gone from her vision. A sudden tremor shook the whole building, sending small bits of debris raining down on her head as a mighty roar reverberated through her very bones. But it wasn't the Fallen. It was something meaner. Something… Nicola swallowed thickly at the thought… bigger. Or at least as large as this fucker. Then came clacking of metal, ungodly screeching of the demon. A second later Nicola saw as it was flung through the air like a sack of potatoes and crashed against a block of flats. Instant karma. She thinks with bitter satisfaction when she remembers what that faggot did to Raphael. I need to somehow get to him. Honestly though, she doesn't really want to know what managed to just YEET a Fallen like a skipping rock.

Unfortunately, she finds out and finds out quite soon. From her hideout, she sees an enormous creature, nearly as big as the demon that threatened her, charging towards the stunned monster still bleeding from its mouth. If Nicola had been terrified of the Fallen, then she was on the verge of having a straight out SCA after seeing this chunk of a behemoth. Whatever this thing was, it was the size of an average tree. Its armored hide was burning with red and white flames which were enveloping twin jagged, metal whips it held in its hands. Vestigial wings were trembling with wrath as it turned its radiant white eyes at the battered demon. Between a pair of sweeping horns that crowned its head was a flickering blaze that flared with each step the monstrosity took towards its quarry. Right.. What's the best way to get rid of a monster? Sic a stronger monster on it. The Fallen shrugged off and growled at its new assailant, challenging it to a fight.

While the two beasts were circling one another, battling she couldn't even guess what for, Nicola braced for what was to come. This is a horrible idea. Breath in and breath out. In and out. And when the Fallen pounced at its attacker, she bolted. Not stopping, she ran. Through the street the demons were fighting on, past them - so close she could feel the heat radiating off of the newcomer - and into the building Raphael disappeared in. Nicola hoped she was ready for what she was about to find. She really did. Jumping in through the punched in wall however, she soon found out she was, in fact, not ready. The moment she entered, she immediately caught the sight that made something squeeze inside of her.

On a pile of rubble from the destroyed wall was Raphael coated in dust. Still. Not moving, his mesmerising white eyes shut. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh God, oh NO! Not thinking, all fear and uncertainty she ever felt in his presence was long cast away, Nicola rushed over to him pleading, begging everything that would listen for him to be alive. Don't leave me here like this… Dropping at his side into the rubble, Nicola lays her ear on the top of his chest and doesn't let herself relax until she hears a heartbeat and a shallow breath within. Words cannot describe how much she deflated once she did. He's still alive.. but he doesn’t look good.

"Raphael! Please say something! Can you hear me?!"

Thankfully, angel's eyes lolled open as she spoke to him, hinting that he indeed can hear her. Trying his best to keep his unfocused gaze on her face, Raphael furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his upper lip in a pained sneer as his hand wandered up to clutch at his side where the demon's heat struck him.

"Nnn… Nnii… co…"

He weakly attempted to speak but without much success. No joke, he must've hit his head really hard and she dreaded to think about the state of his ribcage.. But hey! At least he hears and understands what Nicola is saying. And it's a good sign.. right…? Wasting no more time, Nicola helped him sit up, keeping her hand on his forehead to steady him as his own palm rested over hers. Even squinting in pain, Raphael kept looking at her, as though she was the only point of focus he could think of.

"Hang in there, okay?! Please, Phel.. We'll be fine…"

Liar. Something snaps at her. They're pretty much defenseless and vulnerable with a very livid demon still threatening them. One or the other will come out victorious. And to the victor go the spoils… Raphael tried to say something but still couldn't formulate words properly due to the splitting headache pulsing through his entire skull. Though even through ringing in his head and pain in his chest that somehow rivaled the one he constantly felt, he found something in this human's words that baffled him. In her panic, Nicola doesn't catch a puzzled look he sends her way.

Phel?

A choked up cry of a dying demon made them both jump a little and look out through the hole Raphael made when the demon gored him. Just in time to see the flaming beast standing on top of the Fallen and strangling it with its whips. Then, the creature of… quite blatantly feminine curves gave one sharp tug and the demon's head was brutally severed from the rest of its body. And everything fell silent.

Instinctively, Nicola halted her breath and ceased any movement, watching the winner (Nicola felt fully comfortable with calling it per "she" now) shoot a glance towards her and Raphael who by this point tiredly laid his head on her shoulder, heaving in attempts to draw a proper breath. The creature approached slowly, keeping Nicola frozen in place and desperately holding onto her injured friend. When the demon was at the wall, only her massive legs were visible. Seconds ticked by as a set of claws rested above the opening to the house, and a monstrous head loomed through the hole.

That would be more than enough to make Nicola pass right the Hell out but.. Something about this creature intrigued her. It didn't have a snarling, toothy maw but an almost featureless face with the curve of a nose and a pair of bright and ferocious, intelligent eyes. It stared at her with more understanding than any demon Nicola had ever seen. Whatever it was, it didn't seem aggressive for some weird reason. At least not yet.. Then, unexpectedly, the creature was enveloped in red flames as its humongous form began to shrink and reshape into something much smaller but still a good two heads taller than an average human.

From the hot light emerged a very humanlike woman in intricate metal armor. Black tattoos marked her stern face around her luminous, white eyes and on her forehead, right below the line of incredibly dense magenta colored hair which floated freely around her head, defying gravity like it's the most natural thing in the world. Whoever it was, even with an intimidating aura of strength and resolve, her close resemblance to a human calmed Nicola somewhat. Plus, she had to admit that this woman had the looks. Men would probably be killing one another for her. Honestly, Nicola felt kind of jealous.. But considering she was still pretty much helpless with a half-conscious angel leaned against her, it didn't put her fully at ease. At least until the stranger spoke in plain English. Then Nicola finally released the breath she was holding. Crossing her arms, the tall lady sneered slightly at the human and angel before her.

"Well, would you look at that. Guess it's your lucky day today."

--------------------------------------------------

It's finally done, my goodness! This one was hard to get right but I made it. Don’t ask me how i managed to finish it with two pictures, I have no clue :I

Fury makes an appearance! Badass as always. :D

Also, can I get an F for Raphael's poor ribs?

[marvella15]

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 6: Swing Time

• Swing Time aka the Astaire/Rogers film that I think is actually the best, especially from the dance perspective. Every duet is fabulous. You could watch just the duets and understand the entire plot of the film. That’s how well crafted and executed they are.

• Our characters/actors: John “Lucky” Garnett (Fred Astaire), Penny Carroll (Ginger Rogers), Pop (Victor Moore), Mabel (Helen Broderick), Ricardo Romero (Georges Metaxa)

• Is this the first Astaire/Rogers film where he’s the one engaged (or married) to someone else? It’s usually her. 

• Lucky is already ridiculously late for his wedding, even before he’s rushing to get dressed. But I love his little snap-and-a-heel-click. 

• How does Fred Astaire manage to look so dapper in shoes, a top hat, no pants, and a robe?

• It’s interesting that Lucky’s bride-to-be calls him John, rather than his nickname, which is tied to his gambling talents and therefore doesn’t fit in with her or her upper class family. But Penny only calls him Lucky. The two women even have a little exchange about it later in the film. 

• As usual, Rogers’ character is uninterested in Astaire’s upon first meeting and also as usual, she has a very good reason. She thinks he’s using any lame excuse to hit on her. Wow, look how much men have not changed at all.

By the way, 25 cents in 1936 is almost $5 today. Not saying it’s a reason to call the police but it’s at least not as outrageous as calling the police over a quarter. 

• Remember I said her cries for a porter in Gay Divorcee would come back? Here it’s reprised in her calls for an officer, which Lucky will also gently mock later just as Guy did to Mimi in the previous film.  

And wow, the officer is condescending and patronizing to her in deference to a man whom he thinks is an affluent gentleman. Look how much the police have not changed. 

• It’s odd that Lucky describes Penny as having red hair when Rogers was definitely a blonde (originally a brunette). Maybe she had strawberry blonde hair at this time?

• The tense exchange between Penny and Lucky as she teaches him to walk at the start of his dancing lesson is some of Astaire and Rogers at their acting finest. It’s a short, rather simple scene but they make it charming, funny, and entertaining. 

• Penny’s line, “If you’re trying to annoy me you certainly are succeeding,” is such a mood sometimes.

• Lucky, already starting to flirt: “All the world loves a dancer. Don’t you?”

• Astaire does a good job of acting like he’s a terrible dancer. Takes a lot of talent to pretend to suck at something you’re actually incredible at. 

• Pay attention to the three-step maneuver Penny teaches Lucky. He uses it as the building block for all of their dances in this film, beginning very soon with “Pick Yourself Up.” 

• I love the “Pick Yourself Up” duet so so much. As much as the romantic duets for Astaire and Rogers get a lot of attention, I really love tap dancing and this is one of their best tap routines. Plus, you can see Penny (thanks to Rogers’ intuitive acting) go from surprise to delight to pure enjoyment and maybe a little bit of well-deserved smugness. Also notice that Lucky and Penny are much closer together in this duet than they had been during the dancing lesson. They’ve already become familiar with each other in that short span of time. 

• Because of the nature of the scene, Astaire looks frequently at Penny’s boss but Rogers is watching Astaire almost the entire time. Her expression conveys the feeling that Penny has finally found the right partner.

• There’s a lovely moment where she glides back with her arms up as she waits for him and Rogers’ face is so full of joy and affection. 

• Astaire typically avoided naming a “favorite” partner out of consideration for the many other actresses he danced with. But he did comment that because of how well Rogers danced with him, “She got so that after a while everyone else who danced with me looked wrong.” And he’s kind of right about that. Swing Time as a whole is probably the best example. No other actress would look right in any of the dances they share in this film. 

• The moment of wordless conversation between Penny and Lucky after their dance feels very much like the actors themselves. In addition to having known each other prior to making films, they’ve also now spent the last 5 years working very closely together. No doubt they had some silent shorthand. 

• One of the reasons I enjoy Swing Time is because unlike other Astaire/Rogers films, the misunderstandings between them don’t emerge until later on, rather than appearing at the start to constantly obstruct their relationship. Here, Lucky and Penny begin their relationship almost right away. Just look at their cute conversation in front of the elevator where he hastily decides to get a room in the same building as her. 

• For the second time in this film, Astaire looks incredibly dapper while also being pantless. 

• At first it seems ridiculous that Lucky is picketing outside Penny’s room claiming she’s been unfair to him since he made them miss their try-out. However, he’s done everything to make it up to her, including arranging a new try-out for them, building up a sizable bankroll for him/them and Mabel, and, obviously, getting some new clothes. 

• Although they tried many things in Rogers’ hair to make it look like shampoo, I believe they landed on whipped cream at her suggestion. And they use it as a very convenient excuse to prevent yet another kiss. 

• Unlike other romantic songs in their films, “The Way You Look Tonight” is framed as a popular song of the time within the film itself. And we know this because Ricardo Romero is singing it in the next scene as part of his “romantic medley hour.” 

• Love the way Astaire looks at her during this social dance. So warm and loving. And when they leave the dance floor, he gets her attention at one point by hooking his index finger to the point of her elbow. Just little moments of familiarity between them. 

• More little moments: When Penny gets up from the roulette table, Lucky stops her until after the ball has landed, indicating he feels she’s good luck. Rogers is holding Astaire’s elbow as she goes to leave so he grabs her hand under his arm without looking. 

• I’ve always loved the look on Lucky’s face when he watches Romero approach Penny. It’s not jealousy or concern, necessarily. Just soft, like he’s wondering if his heart is about to be broken. And the music playing? “A Fine Romance”

• Lucky does everything possible to get Penny and himself the promised try-out including winning nearly $25k at the casino tables, then winning Romero’s contract, and eventually publicly goading Romero to play for them. But Mabel was right before when she told Penny that everything Lucky did was solely for her. He doesn’t need a new dancing gig, and had in fact come to New York to earn money as a gambler, rather than a dancer. That all changed when he met Penny.

• Remember a time when you were newly in love? The sheer elation of that feeling is what the “Waltz in Swing Time” is. It’s a celebration that builds on what was established in “Pick Yourself Up” and adds sweeping moments of romance. The three steps to the left and right move is expanded on first with outstretched legs and arms and later with exuberant movements around the floor.

• Right at the start, Astaire has a twinkle in his eyes when he looks at Rogers and she responds in kind. They smile at each other easily as they move through a fast-paced and breathtakingly beautiful routine. 

Usually in their films, a romantic and celebratory duet comes near the end when all of the misunderstandings have been resolved. But in Swing Time, it’s right in the middle. 

• There’s one moment where Astaire affectionately touches Rogers’ wrist. It almost looks as though he’s going to spin her towards him but instead they keep dancing separately, next to one another. 

• When the music kicks up, Rogers smiles broadly and she looks radiantly in love. As they spin together, tapping in a circle around the dance floor, both of them keep looking up in wonder and rapture. 

• They’re cuddling during the snowy scenes is very sweet but some of the romance is sucked out when you see the behind the scenes pictures. 

(photo credit)

• Cuuuuute:

Penny: “I like being off alone like this.”

Lucky: “You’re not alone. You’re with me.”

Penny: “Then I like being off alone with you.”

• Lucky’s face when he accidentally finds himself in an embrace with Penny is purely Astaire and you can fight me on that. There’s so much longing and want in that look. He’s able to get away with it because of the long moment before he has to say anything but even when he does speak, his voice cracks a bit. His gloved hand keeps stroking her forearm. 

• Not hard to see some true-to-life parallels in this dialogue and I’ve always felt that the way Astaire said his last line here was as himself, not just him acting. 

Penny: “It’s funny how we met, and all that’s happened to us since.”

Lucky: “The way we’ve been sort of thrown together and everything.”

Penny: “As if it were all meant to happen.”

Lucky: “It’s quite an experience.”

• Like I’ve said before, no way the actors and creative team didn’t know exactly how much they were trolling audiences by having lyrics like “a fine romance with no kisses” in Astaire and Rogers’ SIXTH. FILM. together where they still haven’t kissed romantically on screen. 

And in fact there will be at least two thwarted kisses in this sequence alone.

• “A Fine Romance” is quite scandalous when you pay attention to the lyrics too. Penny says Lucky won’t “nestle” or “wrestle” and she’s “never mussed the crease in [his] blue serge pants.” 

Rogers does a really wonderful job throughout. She’s frustrated and disappointed when singing at him and then stewing with hurt feelings when he sings to her. 

I’ve always loved how Astaire flatly says “cactus plants” in the lyric “you never give the orchids I send a glance, no you like cactus plants.”

• I always chuckle at the way Penny loudly and awkwardly asks, “HOW DO YA LIKE MY DRESS?” Who hasn’t suddenly gone awkward af in front of their crush?

• In the movie Grease, there’s a part where Rizzo has a hickey from Kenickie. According to Stockard Channing, actor Jeff Conaway insisted on giving her the hickey himself. But just in case you thought maybe Ginger Rogers insisted on leaving her own lipstick imprint on Fred Astaire’s lips, sorry to disappoint. A makeup artist came in and applied it. 

• And I adore how they’re both giggling and giddy after the supposed kiss. So much of this movie is about young love or your first real love, those butterflies mixed with terror and anticipation. 

• I always thought the club owner said, “Lucky, you’re a mess” after finding Penny and Lucky immediately after their first kiss. But he actually says, “Lucky, you’re on next.” Either way, Lucky’s dazed response of “Am I?” is cute. 

• Ok, the “Bojangles of Harlem” number. It’s the only time Astaire did blackface. It’s uncomfortable to watch even though he intended it as a tribute to African-American dancers Bill Robinson and John W. Bubbles. There’s also some very innovative use of 1936 special effects to make it look like Astaire is dancing with three of his shadows. Largely because of this, choreographer Hermes Pan was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Dance Direction. 

He lost but won an Oscar in the same category the next year, the final time that category was awarded, for a routine in Astaire’s only 1930s film without Ginger Rogers, A Damsel in Distress. 

• If Lucky had just let Margaret say her piece, he would’ve known that he’s actually not beholden to her anymore. But then we wouldn’t have one of the greatest dances ever put to film. 

• In all fairness on the kissing front, Lucky’s well timed entrance does prevent Romero and Penny’s kiss from appearing on screen.

• A heartbreaking exchange where they never break eye contact:

Penny: “Does she dance very beautifully?”

Lucky: “Who?”

Penny: “The girl you’re in love with.”

Lucky, meaningfully: “Yes. Very.”

Penny, after a beat: “The girl you’re engaged to. The girl you’re going to marry.”

Lucky: “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve danced with you. I’m never going to dance again.”

 • “Never Gonna Dance” is distinguished from the other songs in this film’s world because it’s not something that is also used in the dance studio or played by Romero’s band. Instead, it includes elements specific to these characters. The line “the la belle, la perfectly swell romance” recalls Penny’s line earlier in the gazebo. The reference to “dinner clothes” harkens back to Penny and Lucky’s first day together. The repeated use of the word “penny,” transforms in its final iteration to being her name when Lucky sings, “Though I’m left without my Penny.” The whole song is Lucky’s elaboration on his line above. Nothing matters now, not his clothes or money or dancing. All he’s going to do is love her. 

• The music of the dance and many of the moves are pulled from previous songs and dance numbers. A fittingly mournful version of “The Way You Look Tonight” plays as they walk together, which is also how Lucky began his dance lesson with Penny. Later, “Waltz in Swing Time” trumpets in to propel them into that same three steps move again but as euphoric as they were in that previous dance, now he is almost desperate and she is slowly letting him go. “Never Gonna Dance” is a compilation of their entire romance from start to heartbreaking finish and it’s a truly stunning duet. I know “Cheek to Cheek” gets a lot of hype, and it’s deserved, but “Never Gonna Dance” is something extra special and is certainly tied with “Waltz in Swing Time” as the best Astaire and Rogers duet in my book. 

In keeping with how much Swing Time breaks the tradition of Astaire/Rogers films, “Never Gonna Dance” is the duet where Astaire is trying to woo Rogers’ character, something we typically see earlier in the film but was never needed here. It’s also very tragic, something we almost never see in Astaire/Rogers films. Even “Let’s Face the Music and Dance” had a hopeful tone. 

• Their expressions in this number are especially poignant. He is imploring her to stay while she is gazing at him as though drinking him all in because she knows this will be the last time they’re together. While he is concentrating on pouring everything into the dance, she is memorizing every detail of this last dance with him, even watching him when he can’t see her. I know I talk a lot about Rogers’ acting ability during these dances but it never stops being worth mentioning. No other partner of Astaire’s got it the way Ginger Rogers did. 

• Thank god they cut this dance into two pieces so that they only had to perform this last bit again and again by itself, rather than having to start from the very beginning each time.

After two films that included “issues” with her dresses, Rogers this time has an issue with her shoes. Or rather, they did so many freaking takes (47ish) that she bled into them. And supposedly she didn’t complain at all because she was just as committed to getting the dance right.

She does the majority of the tough work in this final piece too. Not only is she spinning quickly and frequently, in the final spin she has to move towards where he waits, rather than him coming to meet her. 

Some credit to the level of trust they’d built though, Astaire’s arm is always ready well in advance of when she will spin into him. 

• Even as the duet is ending, Astaire keeps his face longing and hopeful. Lucky has done everything to win her back and as they move towards the door he thinks he may still have a chance. But in their last embrace where he holds her tightly to him, she tellingly doesn’t return the gesture and leaves both of her arms raised. When she exits, he grimaces as though his heart has truly been broken. 

• The ridiculous overacting when they’re all laughing is 🙄🙄🙄. Did the Joker unleash some laughing gas?? The silliness of this ending takes away from the rest of a truly excellent film. 

It also reminds me of the silliness of the beginning. If I had to guess, the writers probably had a great middle and no clue to how start or end things. At least, it feels that way.

• I do like how she sings a reprise of “The Way You Look Tonight” about him while he sings a reprise of “A Fine Romance.” And they go in for another kiss, pause, then embrace with his back to the camera because GOD FORBID we see a single dang kiss between these two!

Though I am left wondering just what Astaire and Rogers were doing in the final embrace because their faces do seem awfully close together...

• Swing Time is probably the last exceptional Astaire/Rogers film. Everything after this doesn’t quite measure up except in a few specific instances. That said, I do enjoy many parts of Shall We Dance, which is next. 

[peepingtoad]

|| @dokuhebi​​ cont. {x}

The peculiar period of downtime that they’d found themselves enjoying ever since the destruction of the other hideout, short-lived as it would no doubt be, had borne witness to the reveal of some truths that could never have come to light while he was still Orochimaru’s captive. Now they were in another of the many laboratories that could technically be considered ‘part’ of Otogakure, except this one was far, far flung from the sight of prying shinobi—not even Danzō had any hand in the funding or knew the whereabouts of this place—and of course, the timing was such that the expiry date on the sacrificial vessel he and Tsunade had met during the Deadlock was drawing ever nearer.

While this said a lot about exactly how long he’d been cooped up, it had proven more interesting in Jiraiya’s eyes, by this point, to wonder anew how Orochimaru had managed to weasel their way around the permanent obliteration of the chakra network to their arms. Knowing their sensei’s last-ditch jutsu, this was a feat the sage had previously thought impossible until they’d managed to snap him up and seal him in the forest, like a frog tempted closer by the innocent flick of the adder’s tongue… but particularly since their impromptu flight across the land, and especially what with having his own chakra restored, it became ever more apparent that the situation wasn’t quite so clear cut.

Ever one to observe quietly and gather his thoughts (whenever he wasn’t being boisterous and charging thoughtlessly ahead; such is the duality of man, or this man at least), Jiraiya said nothing when he first noticed the increased use of wrappings around their hands, and the certain quiver that was uncharacteristic of the graceful yet confident gestures he knew. Of course, he also noticed how Kabuto seemed to be the only one in and out of labs while Orochimaru spent more time lounging around—and while yes, this was often to spend time with him, Jiraiya couldn’t simply chalk it up to being a wonderful distraction, even if it would tickle his ego. Not when they so often seemed agitated by an itch for activity that they clearly couldn’t scratch, and particularly not when with increasing frequency they avoided laying their hands upon him in that lovely, possessive way he adored.

However, he wouldn’t call them out on their secret-keeping until meditation, and the awakening of a sage’s ability to sense all around him, showed him exactly what was going on—that cells were beginning to die, that chakra capillaries were deteriorating like old and frayed cables unable to communicate signals, and that this process of death, while gradual, was only beginning with this particular point of weakness. It wasn’t just the Reaper Death Seal that was behind their condition; it was all tied in with the Body Possession, too.

By the time they placate him with the barest of explanations, he already knows that they hide the full extent of what’s to come, and the implications of what must happen next (and soon) to remedy that... are grim. It is where their ideals come to a definite nexus, the reason that they've had to consider each other as enemies for so long, until happenstance led to choices that would solder their fates together once more.

Most critically of all though, it presents Jiraiya with a question he’s avoided until now: can I support this?

Amid numerous growing concerns, witnessing their ailing health only becomes more of a struggle to watch. But the final straw comes when they retire to bathe one evening, and yet many minutes pass—five, ten, fifteen—without even a drip of water to be heard, no shower before the bath, nothing to suggest that any other personal grooming is underway.

He finds them perched on the stool used normally for cleansing before entering the bath, having evidently made attempts to turn on the tap, so he quickly completes the task, and within moments steam fogs up the room. It would seem propriety may have to take a back seat for simply getting them in and comfortable, this time—Jiraiya wasn’t fool enough to think they’d allow the indignity of him stripping and washing them beforehand, but he certainly has plans to do so once they’re relaxed.

“Mm,” he replies simply at their assertion, a response he may as well not have given for how focused he is on unravelling the bandages with utmost care. He doesn’t need to see the damage itself to know that Orochimaru justifying themself is the very first sign that they aren’t satisfied in this situation, that they are perhaps embarrassed or even ashamed by the cost of their ability... but revealing the tender skin, mottled slightly mauve with the beginnings of that deterioration he’d sensed on a cellular level, certainly hits differently. Still, he keeps it hidden from his expression (as best as he can, at least), not wishing to rock the boat. Much more set on offering a little pampering care to soften the edge of being in such a state.

With their silken hair all gathered, tied up and away from their skin—albeit it not as elegantly by Jiraiya’s hand than it would have been by their own—he guides them into the deep bath, and spares no time in kneeling on the step that he may begin to gently wash them. It’s easy to lose himself in how stunningly beautiful they are while his hands roam over their body, sometimes with the cloth, and for those extra sensitive spots that require something even less abrasive than that, completely bare with only a film of lightly floral suds to make it glide over flawless skin.

Of course, few situations were quite so grim that the notoriously lusty sage could ignore desire when it was right before him, pliant and lovely in his hands, but reaching Orochimaru’s arms causes quite the abrupt pause in what had been shaping up to be an act both caring and skin-tinglingly sensual. Something that they clearly pick up on. Something that, dare he say it, gives them a reason to think he needs an extra reminder of that desire... or simply a distraction.

And it certainly works.

With his forearm supporting his weight on the curved edge of the ofuro, Jiraiya  melts into the kiss, his free hand sliding up their sternum to cradle their neck, curling around its slender shape with only the lightest pressure applied. The steam feels steamier the more he tastes what is undoubtedly his Orochimaru; he knows too well their small breaths and gestures for this to possibly connect, in his mind, with the concept of a mere corpse painted with their likeness. And yet it does niggle. Enough that there’s a slight pinch to his brow as they part—just that subtle little indication that in this moment, despite the agitated, trembling weight of his breaths that would indicate stirred up lust, or the fact he’d topple into the bath with them if he tried to lean much further, his feelings towards them have become just a touch overwhelming. 

Love, worry, protectiveness, sadness... it all mingles together in soft, storm-cloud grey, and the very last on the list of reasons for that look is ‘trying to make sense of them’. In fact, it isn’t even on the list at all.

“Mm,” he mumbles again—although this time, at least, he intends to say more. Right after his fingers stop idly fiddling with ink-black forelocks that have fallen from the poorly arranged up-do, settling finally on brushing it gently away from their face, before caressing the elegant line of their jaw. His chin rests atop his forearm, the distance allowing him a better look at them, which in turn prompts a smile that, while gentle, could mean an array of things. Not that he’s going to leave them hanging, as he continues calmly: “Quite the contrary. It makes all too much sense to me.” 

Surely he need not say out loud how well he understood their aversion to death, their obsession with sweeping over any tracks by which it could pursue them as it had whilst growing up, nor that he knew the fact that actually possessing the power, wit and audacity to potentially overcome death was what had spurred them to just do it. Surely he need not say out loud that he knew their ambition and independent streak would have seen them leave Konoha’s tenuously safe walls for some other reason, if not this one.

After all, all three of them had left, albeit for different reasons—and Jiraiya’s own reasoning lay in an ambition of his own, or just a burden of destiny, he couldn’t always tell which. It was different to theirs, but he understood the drive to chase it. Admittedly, his is one that he still feels would have them struggling to make sense of him. Maybe, after everything, he was the one still showing a lack of trust in them. In anyone but himself, really.

Sighing, he braces his hand on the side of the tub, then rises to his full height with a few pops and cracks of his knees here and there. He’s only wearing a light yukata now, having showered not long prior, so it takes little for him to shed himself bare before decisively joining them in the tub, where the addition of his significant mass causes the water to swell, brim and spill over the edge. It evens out as he settles himself on the step situated on the side just beside Orochimaru, his arms made weightless by the water immediately curling around them to hold them in a loose embrace.

“I sensed when we fought that day, that something was different about your body, and I won’t pretend it didn’t disturb me.” His head tilts thoughtfully after saying this, clearly searching for the best words to spin substance to his thoughts. “But your essence, your soul, whatever you may think of it… it’s still the same to me. No matter how much I disagree with what you do, or worry that your actions are only gonna create new chains of vengeance and hatred that’ll come back to bite you, or even how much I worry about you, just you in general—your happiness an’ all that… Well, it still is you. It always will be you. And just like agreeing doesn’t necessarily mean understanding, not agreeing doesn’t mean not understanding. I won’t say this doesn’t worry me, of course, but...”

His eyes flick in the direction of their arms when he emphasises the word ‘this’, about the same time as a gentle nudge of the arm that forms a ledge beneath theirs illustrates it, before meeting their golden gaze again. The fact that someone will have to die to sustain their life... it’s rotten to think about it, but the fact of the matter is, Jiraiya would always choose them over someone else. And if that ‘someone else’ is a shinobi, well... there’s not much to vouch for in terms of their ‘innocence’. They were all killers here. That didn’t make killing someone to further a selfish pursuit for immortality okay, but there isn’t much he can do besides accept the fact that loving them, not from afar but being with them, means accepting that he’ll be inhabiting some exceptionally grey territory... or leaving.

Which, clearly, is quite the opposite of what he’s currently doing.

“It’s funny,” he adds with a slightly bolder curl of his lips, his hand returning once again to their face to simply hold their cheek while his thumb gently caresses the high, refined bone that lends well to that sharp glare of theirs, even with such smooth features, “you’ve tried to tell me that the way I see you, what I continue to see in you is wrong... but you’d be sad, wouldn’t you? You’d be sad if the way I looked at you changed and became like everyone else. Otherwise there’d be no need for you to hope it doesn’t. Watch me look at you, and see—”

Oh, and the way he looks at them is indulgent. Traces of concern and sadness still remain, but as always seems to be the case with Jiraiya, such feelings find themselves lost in a bright and lovely nebula of far better things—love, care, warmth... and, as always, little glimmers of teasing and jest..

“It hasn’t changed, has it? Well... except maybe the bedroom eyes. I suspect they weren’t always quite so obvious~”

[whitherliliesbloom]

the love guru

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ my writings ]  ★ [ prompt #11 - ultracrepidarian ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,343 words ] ★ [ stormblood ]

wol squad verse. involves laurelis who belongs to @ancientechos​, alphinaud leveilleur and e’lija who is my oc. illya is mentioned and appears briefly.

e’lija considers himself quite an expert in the field of courting women. evidently however, he knows next to nothing about the girl alphinaud has his sights set on

Alphinaud has no idea when he’d ask the miqo’te bard of the 6 man party of adventurers known as the Warriors of Light for advice, nor does he ever recall mentioning, even in passing, his growing affections towards one of the members of that very same party. But he regrets allowing E’lija to find out about his crush for the lalafellin healer of their group nonetheless. 

E’lija had ironically been among one of the last of the scions to figure out the identity of the special someone his younger, far more inexperienced elezen friend had held romantic feelings towards. For a man who claimed to be an expert on the subject of courting and seduction, he certainly was blind to the longing glances Alphinaud and Illya had exchanged for summers.. or even the multitude of bashful conversations, the burning of cheeks and mutually tender gazes under a starry night sky.

When he’d finally stopped to see the signs however, there was no containing his excitement at the revelation. There was within his heart a happiness for his friends, and a sincere joy at seeing a pair of youths with mutually blossoming feelings. Buried beneath however, was something perhaps a little more sinister.

In an instant, Alphinaud had turned into more than just a colleague or an ally - but a younger brother in arms, a poor desperate soul waging in the wars of love. Clearly he’d be lost and clueless, with nary a clue on how to get the girl of his dreams - unless a hero, a mentor guided him. 

There was no helping it. Alphinaud needed someone to teach him, and who better to act as his guiding light than the most eligible bachelor of the scions, barring the fraud that was Thancred Waters. 

“Alphinaud. Listen to me. If you wanna win Illya’s heart, you’ve gotta commit!” 

An alarm bell rang loudly in Alphinaud’s head, and every nerve of his body tenses when E’lija leans down to throw an arm around the younger man’s shoulder.

“C-commit you say?” 

“Aye, commitment! A man’s greatest asset! Take it from me, you ain’t gonna get her to notice you if you’re as flaky croissant.” 

His words reach the ears of yet another Warrior of Light behind them, whose arms crossed over her chest and ever deepening scowl suited not the fashionable far eastern garments she’d donned on. At any other time, Laurelis would have happily ignored E’lija’s antics, believing her time better spent in front of a mirror color coordinating her wardrobe for the 20th time that day than to get herself involved in... whatever it was E’lija considered to be ‘courting’, it felt more like flaunting than anything to her.

Her mismatched eyes almost roll to the back of her skull as she hears E’lija proclaim of his own merits as a love guru. She doesn’t exactly consider an impressive list of one night stands to be evidence of being some expert in romance. 

She’d say to each their own.. but not when the man has his grubby paws on her best friend’s potential future date. 

“First and foremost thing.. Gettin’ her stuff she likes! Girls especially would kill for sweets! So get her somethin’ like.. I dunno, a pixieberry pie or somethin’!”

His first advice in itself isn’t terrible, but Laurelis could still not help but to feel a tinge of annoyance that would press her to finally speak up.

“Illya prefers apple custard pie.. also, she likes spicy food more than she does sweet.” 

“Bah.. same thing. Oschon knows Alphinaud here would never be able to handle the level of spice Illya likes anyway! Right, Alphinaud??”

The young man in question would agree, were it not for the steadily tightening grip of E’lija’s hand upon his shoulder causing him to grimace a little in nervousness. He doesn’t quite catch the little beads of sweat rolling off Alphinaud’s brow, or the way the elezen’s eyes swiveled and glanced over to Laurelis as if in a silent cry for help. 

“Right, the next thing you wanna do.. is to play hard to get! You can’t ever come off as needy or bein’ too clingy to her! Make it seem like you’ve got other prospects!” 

Oh mercy from the twelve, here we go.

For all his inexperience and lack of game with members of the fairer sex, Alphinaud could still call out a piece of bad dating advice when he sees one. He didn’t quite know if E’lija was simply oblivious to the true depths of his affections for his friend - an attraction and interest that goes deeper than picking up drunk maidens off of sleazy tavern bars... or if the man simply had no differentiation between the two. 

“No way!!” The woman nearly buries her face into the palms of her hands. Misunderstandings on what Illya does or doesn’t like is one thing, but potentially hurtful advice is something she cannot handle. “That may work on some people, but you’d just break Illya’s heart and make her feel self-conscious!”

“Hey! We’re having a man to man talk here! This is none of your business!”

"It’s about Illya, so yes, it is my business! You don’t know a single thing about her, E’lija Tia!” Some love guru he was! More like the breaker of hearts, the wrecker of romance! Laurelis curses beneath her breath when E’lija tips his head up to pout at her, and it takes all the energy she could muster to hold the muscles of her limbs back from marching over and grabbing E’lija by the collar. Clearly her moon eyed ideas of romance lines up with his about as well as oil does with water. “Don’t listen to him, Alphinaud! He’s not got a clue what he’s talking about!”

I wasn’t planning on it. Alphinaud doesn’t quite have the courage to mutter his thoughts out loud, not when the tips of E’lija’s nails were already grazing the blades of his shoulders with a death grip that has left him all but paralyzed. 

“’Scuse you, Laurelis! Who’s the last guy you dated before Haurchefant? You’re no expert on dating yourself, ya know? Leave the advices to the experienced ones here!”

“At least I know Illya better than you do!”

“D-did somebody call me?”

Alphinaud’s blood freezes over completely within his veins, and like a tree of the old world, he stands rooted still to the ground, unable to move or to even speak until E’lija finally forces him to spin around on his heels with a boisterous laugh.

“O-Oh! Aye, good timing. Alphinaud here was just uhh lookin’ for you!” The hand E’lija held on his shoulder felt more a death sentence than it did comforting, as was the light pat on his back. The dread was only worsened when he catches sight of Illya, her silken hair tied up into curls behind her head, wearing a lavender floral dress that cascaded down her sides, the colors and beauty in which was only second to the mirage of colors that shone in her eyes. 

His heart catches in his throat, but he’s saved once again by Laurelis’ quick wit. 

“Oh, Illya, finally! I told you it’d suit you!” The miqo’te quickly glides over to his side to tug E’lija’s hand away, forcing the other man to step back with a whine, before she turns her glance once more to the elezen. “Don’t you agree, Alphinaud?”

He can vaguely remember one of the advice E’lija gave him once about compliments, among a cesspool of other nuggets of tips that Alphinaud had never asked for. And despite the way his head rattled and swirled with the damning, awful advice he’d been fed from his own mentor in love, nothing rang louder to him than Illya’s voice, and of the sincerity that Alphinaud wished to pour out of his heart.

“Yes.. You look beautiful in that.”

Illya and E’lija collapse in unison - the first with her utterly reddened face hidden behind trembling hands, and the other yelling out a cry of disappointment.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Kick Ball Change (a Destiel fic inspired by 15x10 “The Heroes’ Journey”)

Dean has the Bunker to himself at a time after he and Sam regain their supernatural abilities. With nothing needing his attention, he decides taking time for himself wouldn't hurt. But the usual fare leaves him bored and tired.

So he tries something new. Something he wanted to try, but wasn't sure he would be good at. Dean starts off strong, but doing it on your own can only be so fun. Get you so far. Luckily a partner happens by and truly allows Dean to enjoy a part of himself he knew was there, but didn't want to share.

           He leans forward, studying the laptop screen intently. Frowning, eyes flicking left and right while counting along with the instructor. His finger clicks on the trackpad and then pulls back. Restarts the video for the umpteenth time. When Dean feels confident, he pauses the video at the two-minute mark.

           Distancing himself from the table, Dean’s stare dips down towards his feet. Watches them repeat the steps. Slowly, like if he were walking on a wintry lake where the ice thinly covered the surface. Imagines the clicks with each soft tap of his heel or a scratchy swoosh when he dragged his toes across the floor.

           Through repetition, his skill improves. Instead of the jerky movements from which he began Dean moves with a touch of grace. Soon, he tears his gaze away and trusts that his feet will lead him through the routine without having to watch. Panting, beads of sweat dripping through his hairline, Dean dances the mini-routine at least ten more times. Then he stops and slumps over to the laptop again.

           Two minutes. Out of thirty.

           “Son of a…” he runs a tired hand through his hair, ignoring the aches in his joints and hits play.

           There was only so much time he had anyway.

           “I’m heading out.”

           Dean glanced up from a magazine, Sam standing a few feet away with his duffel packed. “Where you going?”

           “Jody’s,” he said, walking to the stairs, “she called about issues with a wolf pack and wanted some help. By the time her, Donna, and Claire make it there they’ve picked up and moved on.”

           Nodding, he marked his page and stood. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be ready –“

           “Actually,” Sam coughed, blushing, “I was planning on driving over there alone.”

           Stunned, Dean allowed a beat to pass before asking. “Oh?” brow raised, “You sick of me already? Alaska to Kansas too long being stuck in a car with your brother.” It’s only been a day since they returned, but it’s all the difference. Dean and Sam felt more like themselves after their luck returned. Being average was an interesting experience, one Dean never wanted to go through again. He would go mad if it became his reality. “Because I’ll tell you,” he continued, “it wasn’t me stinking up the cabin with those Gas-n-Sip burrito farts.”

           Sam’s lips pursed and then thinned. “No,” he said, “you were too busy puking into a plastic bag after eating Bess’s grilled cheeses… again.”

           Dean shrugged, neck heating up at the memory. “What? They were good.”

           “You were lactose intolerant!”

           “I call bullshit on that,” he argued, “Cavities, I get. Skills getting rusty, sure. But me gushing chunks after so much as a cheese stick? No – that makes no sense. Chuck was just being a dick with that one… keeping me from cheese.” Dean huffed, crossing his arms, “At least that’s not the case anymore, right? Me and cheese are friends again.” Sam’s bitchiness intensified. “Anyway… why’re you leaving me behind?”

           As if Dean stabbed a pin into his balloon, Sam’s irritation deflated into a shyness. His shoe scuffed against the floor. “Well… I wasn’t the first person Jody called.”

           “Right, you mentioned Donna –“

           “Because, well… because Eileen is still en route.”

           The clouds parted. Light streams through and brightened Dean’s face, his grin stretching wide until his cheeks hurt. “Oh,” he said, “that’s why –“

           “Dean…”

           “You don’t want me crashing your little date,” he chuckled, delighting in Sam’s scowl. “What? Afraid I’d embarrass you in front of her… like she didn’t see enough when she was haunting our home like Casper.”

           “Dean –“

           “You already kissed her Sam, and she’s still kicking,” Dean said, slapping the magazine across his knee. Aware of how close Sam was to having a meltdown, he pumped the brakes. “Go. Have fun with your girlfriend hunting weres,” he sighed, “I’ll watch the fort… alone… with nothing but my hand for company.”

           Sam huffed, a smile threatening the dark corners of his lips. “You can always call Cas.”

           “He’s busy,” Dean told him, mirth draining from his voice. “On his way back from Heaven he found a case in Southern California.” He wrung the magazine in his hands, wrinkling the pages. “You’ll probably be back before him.”

           After exchanging quick goodbyes, Sam left. Seconds passed after the front door’s heavy slam, Dean wasting no time to sneak away towards the kitchen. Using his first night to revel in all the shameful acts Sam would cast a judgmental stare at. Like piling meats and cheeses – no vegetables – onto toasted bread. Paired with as many different fries he could find in the freezer and empty onto the baking tray. Enjoyed his meal alongside a very adult film, one Sam would make him watch hidden in his room. Where the grunts and moans were contained. They echoed in the War Room, mixed with Dean’s own laughter.

           Except porn can only be so interesting.

           He lost interest rather quickly without someone being there, around to possibly walk in. Catch him in the act and then admonish him. Loneliness softened the edges of thrilling danger. By the fifth movie, Dean tied his robe shut and waddled off towards the showers to clean up.

           All throughout the shower, Dean wondered what he should do next. Pranking Sam felt too pointless, knowing his brother would return with a goofy smile and good mood that would be difficult to ruin. If he wanted any chance his energies were better saved coming up with over-invasive questions to pester him with.

           Outside the washroom, Dean turned and wondered about the shooting range. The idea fit like an old shirt. Familiar, but ineffective. Dean outgrowing the need to blast bullet holes in his problems. Especially boredom.

           He kept thinking while in the shower, lathering his body on autopilot. Not realizing he finished until he saw his reflection. Towel wrapped around his hair, eyes tinged red from where shampoo must have fallen in, and a piece of floss hanging from his mouth.

           “I want you to promise me you’ll floss from now on,” Garth said, shoving the plastic cartridge into his hand.

           Lips pursed, he tried handing it back. “If Alaska’s what you promised, I doubt I’ll need to worry about my teeth again.”

           Garth fought, forcing his fingers around it with the supernatural strength he reminded Dean at every chance during this encounter. The pressure around his wrist sent sparks firing up his spine like fireworks. “It don’t matter,” he growled. “Luck is temporary. Good teeth are forever.”

           His gums tingled with minty freshness, but it wasn’t too horrible. Better than the cavities, or the process it went to fill them.

           “But that laughing gas…”

           He propped himself up on the sink, remembering the insane choreography his mind dreamed up during that affected state. Inspired by some Ginger Rodgers-flick he must’ve caught late at night when he couldn’t sleep. And after flipping through channels, stumbling upon her spinning in Fred Astaire’s arms and marveling at the ease with which they both glided through the number made the late hours pass in a blink until Sam knocked on his door, inviting him for breakfast.

           It looked supernatural, but Fred and Ginger weren’t blessed like Sam and Dean. Their talent came from hard work, and not a boost from God.

           “But anyone can be a good dancer,” he mumbled, “I bet, with time, I could…”

           Resolved, Dean tore the floss from his mouth and hurried to get changed. A simple hoodie and sweats, easy to move in. Hurried to his laptop left in the war room, frozen in ecstasy, and began the search.

           The first few websites he tried were articles. They detailed what Dean needed to start and the different types of dancing he could try. A few looked rather impossible for a beginner like him, and others required two participants. An hour in, he found one written by a former tap dancer detailing the history of the style and their experience in the last twenty years. He sat, captivated, learning how it was more than just simple clickity-clacking. How tap mixed together a variety of cultural styles and grew in popularity. Transitioning from minstrel shows to vaudeville acts and jazz. Booming from the late Eighteen hundreds into its height of the twenties and thirties, slowly falling out of the spotlight after that.

           “Each class I took I felt a little bit happier with myself,” the author wrote, “I didn’t really have much to be proud of… some days it was like I passed through the day. Existing, but doing nothing with my life. Watching myself dance in the mirror and complete a complicated routine and thinking ‘I did that’ it… it gave me the energy to make it into the next day.”

           At the bottom of the article, a few links auto-populated to tap dancing videos. Dean clicked on the first and spiraled.

           He’s hungry, skipping lunch and dinner to dance. It’s probably nighttime, except Dean won’t check his phone. All Dean knows is that there is a minute left of the video, his ankles hurt, and he has only a few more steps to go until putting it all together.

           “Okay,” he says, dragging the button to the very start, “let’s give this a try.”

           Dean waits for the music to play, nerves twisting together and strangling his heart. He ignores them in favor of focusing on the instructor counting him in. His foot slides to the side and lightly taps the floor. Gentle smack mixing with the jazzy piano and clack from the professional tap shoes. Repeats the process with the other foot.

           And then he’s dancing.

           It’s not the greatest, Dean stumbling a few times. But he powers through. Does as he read and keeps moving onto the next step.

           Halfway through he finds the pain in the lower half of his body overpowered by the ache in his face from smiling too wide, for too long. Exhaustion fades as Dean allows the joy of dance to flood in. Stops thinking and blacks out, coming to when the video ends.

           Silent save for the singular clapping from nearby.

           Dean whirls around, startled. He trips over himself, snapping the laptop closed. Fire crawls up his shirt and tints his neck, Dean glad the hood hides most of it.

           Castiel arches a brow at the display, hands paused on the downswing in a mock prayer. “That was wonderful Dean,” he says, “I didn’t know you could dance.”

           Tongue heavy, he tries his best. “I don’t. I mean… not really. Not professionally and, usually, not at all. But I… I had the time, and I thought I could do it. Figured, while I was on my own, I’d see if I could do it.” Dean folds his arms over his chest, huffing a deep breath. Painfully aware of the sweat stains soaking his fists while they hide in his armpits. “Just started doing it a couple of minutes ago actually.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah.”

           He hums, drifting closer. Castiel drags his fingers across the map until he reaches the laptop. Hand hovering over Dean’s, almost touching it. Radiating heat and electricity that leaves him jumpy and frozen to the ground.

           “You’re really talented,” he says, “and you never did this before?” Dean shakes his head, too afraid his voice would break if he were to use it. “Amazing… do you think –“ Castiel chuckles, gaze darting to the side and away from Dean. “Do you think I could join you?”

           “You… what?”

           “I might not be any good,” he continues, “but you were enjoying yourself, and I could…”

           His expression shifts, crinkles of delight smoothing around his eyes into a somber reflection. Dean frowns, “Hey. You could what?”

           “I could…” He breathes deeply, “I could use the distraction. Things haven’t been going my way the past couple of days…”

           “The hunt?”

           Castiel draws into himself, Dean following until his fingers hit the edge of the laptop. “I wasn’t all that needed,” he says, “When I got there, it was in time to group up with another pair of hunters who already taken down the shifter in its nest. Barely spent an hour in town…”

           “Well,” he shrugs, “at least the monster was taken care of.”

           “Still,” Castiel wryly smirks, “I can’t help the selfish feeling of wanting to be the one to solve the case. To come back home with some sort of accomplishment under my belt.”

           Dean understands where his angel’s mind is. Replays their last conversation, where Castiel told Dean that none of the angels left in Heaven had an inkling of where Chuck might have gone. If he hung around their plane of existence or moseyed on to greener pastures. How disappointed he felt. “Another failure –“

           “Don’t say that,” he mumbled, turning away from Sam so the other man couldn’t hear him. Wouldn’t if he kept his head buried in his book. “You got the Leviathan blossom, remember?”

           “And look how well that went.”

           There wasn’t any other option. So, when he opens the laptop and clicks on the next video, he guides Castiel to where he stood when practicing. “Let me know when you want me to pause it,” he says, “and don’t be afraid to ask me to play it back if you need to. Oh,” he tugs on the trench coat’s lapels, “You might want to lighten your wardrobe. Probably be more difficult dancing with all this on.”

           Castiel nods, slipping free from his armor. Allows Dean to hang both coat and suit jacket on a nearby chair, tossing his tie after unwrapping it. He finishes rolling up his sleeves when the first video begins. “Thank you, Dean.”

           “It’s literally nothing Cas. Now pay attention, it’s… dammit, she already started. Hold on let me go back.”

           Dean tries his best. But dancing becomes increasingly difficult with the addition to his class. Every so often Castiel’s elbow knocks into his and the entire routine falls apart. Lucky that he didn’t own tap shoes to start with, so mistakes went unnoticed. Castiel’s heavy brow furrowed while he pieces together the steps.

           “I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Castiel says, foot flapping on the floor like a dying fish. Laughing, hopping between left and right. “I like this.”

           Dean giggles alongside him, dizzy from either the lack of food or air. His friend stealing all of it from his lungs. “Yeah. Dancing’s fun.”

           “Why don’t we do this more often.”

           “Well, uh…” Dean scratches his chin, “I mean, men aren’t… men don’t dance, all that much. At least we’re not supposed to.”

           “Who said?”

           “…Society?”

           Castiel nods. He pauses the video, never breaking his stare with Dean. “I see… that’s why you were doing this when neither Sam nor I were here, then?” Dean shrugs his answer. “Society’s rules are stupid,” Castiel continues, smiling, “and you’re a lovely dancer. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

           “I’m not,” he rushes to defend. Wincing when Castiel’s brow arches at him. “I wouldn’t be… if I knew I was good. I hadn’t done all that much dancing before now.”

           “And after?”

           “After what?”

           “After today,” Castiel asks, “Will you continue dancing?”

           His face burns hotter. “I don’t know,” Dean says. Pouts and hides his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “It’s fun, but at my age… all this is kind of a killer on the body. I might not be able to kick for about a month.”

           He hums again. “Well,” Castiel turns to the video, “what you chose to do can be… intense. Are there any other styles of dance you’re interested in exploring?”

           Dean didn’t think he would agree so readily. And after explaining how it would work, figured Castiel would respectfully decline. Instead he asked Dean what song would best fit the style. Hung close while Dean typed into the search bar, hip pressed tight to his shoulder. Devil nowhere in sight because the presence of his angel shone too bright.

           “So,” he says, soft music playing in the background, “we kind of… leave our hands like this.” Dean places one of Castiel’s on his shoulder, the other floating for a long beat until, taking too long, Castiel twines their fingers together. “What –“

           “I’ve seen some people do this,” Castiel says, “Is that not right?”

           “No, no you’re right. It’s just…” Very intimate. A loaded gesture. Not an act he ever would have pictured escaping his dreams and becoming reality. People like Garth and Bess could enjoy it… Sam and Eileen if they worked through their issues… but him and Cas? “It’s fine,” he says, “really.”

           “You’re sure –“

           “Dammit Cas, shut up and sway.” Dean ends their conversation, coaxing the other man into a rhythm so he wouldn’t have to talk any longer. Calmed when he joins and relinquishes the fight. He dives headfirst into the gentle waves of guitar strings. A soothing country melody the soundtrack to their first dance.

           Dean peeks at Castiel’s profile and tamps down the awed sigh exploding in his chest. Only a glimpse needed to see the whole picture. Fills in the blank canvas with an unviable future. Maybe Dean wears something fancier than the hoodie with holes in random places from countless moth bites. A sleek black tuxedo tailored to show every curve and angle. Or pure white, so radiant and shining he personifies Heaven. Shiny wingtips that would capture the reflection of the happiest day his life could produce.

           All the fancy window dressing for him wouldn’t fit Castiel. He would wear his armor like always, Dean holding tight to the trench coat as they circled the floor. Dean stares at it where it rests now. Hides his smile in Castiel’s shoulder, giving nothing away.

           “Dean?”

           Humming, Dean squeezes and grips Castiel’s shirt tight in his fist. “Yeah?”

           “I don’t think this is appropriate…” Wings clipped, Dean hurdles to Earth. His feet stumble over each other in his rush to stop, and suddenly his angel’s touch turns cloying. Before he can say anything, though, Castiel continues. “Aren’t we supposed to go fast when the music picks up?”

           “What?”

           “The song’s over,” Castiel says, lips quirking at the ends. Dean tunes into his surroundings to find the music changed to a mid-tempo rock song that, while not too speedy, definitely put their earlier moves out of place. He blushes, stepping away from Castiel. “Wait,” he says, closing in around Dean’s wrist. Keeping him close. “are we done dancing?”

           Hope glitters in Castiel’s eyes, blinding Dean from escape. “No,” Dean tells him, “We can still dance.”

           “How does one dance to a song like this?”

           “…Watch.”

           Dean spins on his heel, startling Castiel. Wastes no time in shedding the sludge of his overreaction, shaking it off with each wild bounce of his limbs. Hops from left to right, grinning like he was sixteen again. Slammed between punks in the middle of a crowded room while a band blasted his eardrums deaf.

           “What are you doing?” Castiel asks, laughing.

           Dean bounds close and snags Castiel’s hand, dragging him forward. “I’m dancing!”

           “This is dancing?”

           “Yeah!” He won’t release him until the other man joins him. Holding Castiel hostage, demanding a ransom of stupidity and silliness. His angel reluctantly allows his shoulders to shrug in time. From how horribly he schools his features, though, Dean knows not an ounce of disdain lives within. “Come on, Cas. You wanted to dance? It’s not all sweeping ballrooms or planned directions. Sometimes it’s frantic. It’s crazy. It’s the first thing that comes to mind!”

           “The first thing that comes to mind?”

           Dean reigns in his excitement at the deviousness peppering Castiel’s grin. Lessens his jumps to tiny hops. “What are you -?”

           Castiel spins him off. Sends Dean flying with a strength that nearly has him kissing the floor. Instead he slides to a stop and spends a beat regaining his balance. Confident in his ability to stand straight, Dean whirls to face Castiel. The comment locked into the barrel of his mouth misfires and leaves his jaw hanging.

           His angel mirrored him, slightly. Jumps tinged with caution, hesitation etched into the lines of his smile. Arms arcing to and from, fists raised high above his head until slamming down. “Like this?” he asks.

           Nodding, Dean hisses a low whistle. “Beautiful.”

           “...Dean?”

           “Yeah?”

           “Are you going to watch me or are you going to dance?”

           He chuckles, “What I do Cas… you can’t just call dancing.”

           When listening to music, Dean always paid attention to when it began and ended. Learned how to tell when one song bled into another. Differentiate between the minutia, varying chords played or notes sung in the arrangement. Could identify a song in the first few seconds of air time.

           However, with Castiel, Dean cannot believe one song can last into eternity. Loses himself in the moment and lets everything else fade into static. Nothing more important than seeing how wide Castiel’s lips can stretch until they rip in half. Dean goads his good humor with ridiculousness after ridiculousness. He shimmies hips and drags his fingers across his eyes, Castiel smirks. Kicking a chair, collapsing into it and pretending to drop a bucket of water over his body makes his angel chuckle. Laughter erupts when Dean tries to teach Castiel how to do the macarena.

           They’ve devolved in their movements. Exhaustion cutting the wires above Dean’s elbows and wrists. His panting overpowers the music.

           Dean shuffles backwards to sit on the edge of the war table. Castiel joins, bracketing him in on either side with his arms. Accidentally closing the laptop with a drunken slap from his hand. “Oops.”

           “Cas,” Dean sighs, lightly shoving his chest, “serious party foul.”

           “My bad,” he says, tilting his head in the familiar way that causes Dean’s hear to beat double-time. “Although… I doubt this party would have lasted any longer.”

           “What makes you say that?”

           “The fact you can barely keep your eyes open for less than a minute…” Castiel’s hand traces Dean’s arm, crawling up it and leaving fire in its wake. It settles on his cheek, thumb brushing against the stubble there. “Dean…”

           He fights against the molasses slowly pouring down his face and covering his eyes. “Yeah?”

           “Dean, I –“

           Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

           Castiel slaps his face. He doesn’t, but the speed with which his hand tears itself away from Dean stings like a slap. Both turn and stare above at Sam, the taller man clapping from the balcony.

           “Wow,” he says, stomping down the nearby staircase, “you two were good. I didn’t know either of you had the skills… but I guess that’s on me, isn’t it?”

           “Sam,” Castiel says, pouting, “How long have you been…”

           “Not long.” He shrugs off his duffle, dumping the bag at his feet. “I caught the grand finale… a nice welcome home. Although you didn’t have to. I could’ve enjoyed it at breakfast instead of three in the morning.”

           “Three in the morning?” Dean asks, fumbling for his phone. Blinking on, the curved number mocks him. “That long…”

           A throat clears from nearby. He looks from his phone to Castiel, his angel fiddling with his hands. “I didn’t realize,” Castiel says, gathering his jackets, “it’s late… I should probably let you two rest. Sam. Dean…” One meaningful gaze that leaves Dean feeling exposed and raw later, Castiel exits.

           Something rocks into his side, knocking him to the left. Sam smirks, sitting too close to him on the table. Eyebrow cocked in brotherly mischief. Dean scowls, “Seriously?”

           “What?”

           “You’re a jerk, you know that.”

           Sam laughs, “I think I was within my rights.”

           “I could’ve been so much worse to you, y’know,” Dean says, “I almost cut holes in all your underwear.”

           “Glad to hear you didn’t.” He claps Dean’s leg, pushing off the table and snatching his duffle. “Cas is right. We need our rest…” Sam walks as far as the doorjamb, stopping underneath to round on him. “By the way… remember what I was talking about? About Cas’s staring? That’s what I meant.”

           Dean fumes in his wake. “Oh yeah? Well… at least he stares at me!” His brother’s obnoxious laughter was the worst music he heard that night. Too wired to follow the others to their respective bases, Dean instead opens his laptop again and hits play.

           It’s not the same, but it’s a reminder. A possibility. Hope.

[cowandcalf]

10.14 - Spoilers

Random thoughts, no particular order.

Danny has some workdays off. He sits in a bar, at 10 am, alone, watching TV. I haven't decided yet if this is a sad picture or if Danny's having a good time, some me-time, away from the normal daily routine… I really don't know. Maybe he's somehow heartbroken over Grace being at college, far away from home, far away from her Danno. It might be all about a dad who must get used to the fact that his daughter grows up. And that hurts, a lot, especially Danny. He's a great dad. Because Danny doesn't look relaxed in this first scene at the bar, more like deeply immersed in serious thoughts. So maybe his face expresses all about the changes in his life he can't stop from happening.

Steve's worried about Danny and I know he has his reasons. So, it really might all be about Grace and college and moving away from home. Steve's looking out for his boy the only reason for his early call to check up on Danny. Okay, I mean Danny must have left the house around what time? 8:30 am? 9:00 am? Something like this? So, he's seen Steve just a moment ago, had a cup of coffee with him. He even petted Eddie before he went to drive off to this bar. And Steve is separated from Danny for how long exactly? For about 2 hours tops? Before Steve decides it's time for a call, to touch base, making sure he's fine. I mean…this, yeah, this is what I live for.

Steve calls Danny, asking him how he's doing. And it's not anywhere near lunchtime but Steve asks Danny to join him, to grab a bite to eat for lunch. Danny has this day off and Steve can't stand the thought thinking Danny might overthink things, having a bad time, a somber mood. Whatever. Anything is good enough to pretend it's all about caring instead of admitting he only wants to hear Danny's voice. Steve's worried, he misses him…

(Damn, right this moment, in the middle of writing this text there's some other thoughts popping up…GAHH!)

How could I forget about that? OHmYGoD! Steve has just had this awful moment with Eddie! He was terrified Eddie might die on that highway, disorientated, run over by a car. Steve's all shaken up emotionally. He can't really admit that fact to himself, not yet at least, only later when the vet is there with him…I got a little of that myself today – talking about anxiety… So, the call to Danny is also to calm Steve down from the recent, shocking events because Eddie is much, so much more than just a dog to him.

Eddie is the main supporting pillar of Steve's fragile world he hides in his heart and his shattered, scarred soul. Steve is still upset and who does he call? Danny.

He calls, just as Danny would have called him and he checks up on his boy. What a great, tender, comforting moment. Steve doesn't see Danny at work due to his short time-out, though Danny still lives at Steve's place (…if he hasn't forgotten his key…) and Steve sees him in the evening for sure but he wants to eat lunch with Danny although he knows Danny is off to have some good time with whatever he's coming up with. The call Steve gives Danny is similar to the one Danny gave Steve in 10.01, exactly the same. I love this continuity. Warms my heart and the inside of my body down to my little toes.

Danny and the unknown, sexy woman. She's a natural beauty. I love everything about her. From her hair to her fair skin, down to her curvy, hot as hell body, to the way she's dressed, wearing the badassery-is-my-first-name tag like she invented also sensuality. I appreciate the absence of heavily put-on make-up. She's gorgeous and perfect. What a woman!! Whoa, she's freaking hot! And so damn far away from Danny's comfort zone, it makes me want to bite something. That pick-up scene where she just entered the bar to catch up on Danny was a total turn-on, so special, totally out of the ordinary, so hot! Holy shit! This sexy brunette plays with Danny and makes one hot move on him after the other.

God, she's so sexy, full of sass and wits and she swaggers into the bar and within seconds she hits on Danny and it knocks me off my feet with the wave of passion and lust and joy of life breezing my way. Bow chica bow wow!

Danny goes with the flow. How could he not? Steve is still important, and he takes the call. Danny would never not take a call from Steve. But after that Danny's world spins out of control. This woman seduces him into a state where Danny's cock rules his body. They go and have a hot fuck in the woman's bathroom of that bar! Danny stumbles into a tiny, confined space with no windows and only walls around him and he's fine! I have a great live-sex-movie in my head with Danny having this impromptu sex and that's why I have to use other words! Let’s be dirty! He bangs her, right there, from behind, and Miss Sexy-and-Brunette has one palm spread wide against the mirror, and with her other hand she clamps the rim of the counter to catch the heavy snaps of Danny's hips against her ass. God, they watch each other in the mirror, Danny takes her from behind, face red and flushed from arousal and joy and a tiny bit embarrassment that he even sees himself fucking a stranger in a public toilette. A hookup, not even knowing her name and she lifts her skirt and pulls her panties aside to let Danny glide into her wet, hot pussy. Jesus!

I mean, what the hell? (I love Danny’s wet spots under his armpits on his shirt after the sex, that's a great detail.)

The absolute cutest thing happens afterward. Danny has never done this before..just savor this...Danny has never fucked a stranger in a bathroom. He’s not so adventurous and this all-in now or never guy and it shows a tiny bit in the way of his movements which aren't all that confident, just a tiny bit insecure but the desire is there, burning like a wildfire. I mean the red-kissed, sore skin on the sexy brunette’s throat makes my knees go weak.

We know how Danny approaches his women, not like this. He's very much hesitant, insecure, shy, careful, cautious that this event right there with Miss Sexy-and-Brunette?? This renders me damn speechless. Wow! I'm sure Danny calls her (the unknown, sexy woman he just had sex with) Vivienne in his head. I see him whispering hot nonsense in her ear while he comes inside her, and her eyes grab his gaze and lock on. She's so damn self-confident. Who had the condom? That had to be Miss Sexy. I really don't think Danny plans such an act on purpose. He has never done this before!! And he's a bit shaken from his courage and he's so damn sexy with this touch of shyness and the way he speaks to her afterward, coaxing her into giving her a lift…wow, man, Danny's such a hot a stud when he sets his passion loose!

I have no idea if they had had a chance for a relationship. It wasn't the question anyway. But Miss Sexy-and-Brunette is from the East Coast, she loves Jersey, she gets movie/baseball/football (?) quotes. She knows 'Romeo's'…she's such a great gal and I literally can see Danny falling in love iwith her just because she so very different compared to his previous women. She's a wild one and I'm not so sure if Danny could have handled her. Really, I'm not so sure. But she sounds perfect.

Everything that happens afterward seems to be fate, just bad luck, even if it kills you as a viewer, you can't turn back the clock. It's so terribly heartbreaking and this strong, incredible woman dies without telling Danny her name. She's outstanding and a tough she-warrior till the end. She fought so hard, she was so brave and everything...but it wasn't enough. God, I cried for both of them.

Danny had the hottest adventure in the morning because of her, Miss Sexy-and-Brunette and because of her asking him questions about his life Danny came up with some damn honest answers.

For example, Danny told her that Hawaii isn't the worst place to be. He said 'Hawaii 'grows on you'. Or when 'Vivienne' asks about Danny's reason for being in that bar and he answers the reason might be his ex-wife. And Rachel comes up and we get to know that Danny and she tried to make it work and they failed, again. As Danny said, they're better off as friends. So, Rachel's out of the picture. Hopefully forever.

But Life has other plans and this wonderful, sexy morning turns in another haunting, dark, life-sucking event. Danny relives a terrible nightmare – the one where his partner Grace got shot, that day 9/11, right next to him and he couldn't save her. It happens again that a woman dies in his hands. The circumstances are brutal. Danny has experienced paradise and heaven, love and passion, despair and bone-deep grief within hours. He's a mess. He can't deal with anything at the moment. He had it, this spark and it's gone, forever lost, seconds later.

And what’s with Steve? There's also some heavy shifting on the emotional side happening. He opens up to his ohana and we get some deep insights into his heart and his well-guarded feelings because of Eddie. He's honest with the vet-lady and it hurts my heart to know his job always comes first like as if he has no idea how to create a personal life. He would want a relationship with someone, but he can't fit it into his life and the vet-lady wasn't as important as it had to be to make it happen.

In the end, Danny and Steve are single again. They try hard to make things work, but it's not happening. Steve needs Eddie to get through his days and his ohana is always there for him. It breaks my heart how much everyone loves Eddie. Eddie has gone through the same war terror as Steve and neither of them came out sane and healthy. Both of them carry a heavy, invisible burden and that ties the bond between them even tighter.

Steve is going to break down when he gets to know what happened to Danny while he was hat home. God, he’s going to be a mess, too.

At the end of the day, Steve will do everything in his power to be there for Danny. They end up sitting on the couch, leaning into each other and helping one another to get through this mess that is life and love. But they always have each other. Danny lives at Steve's, Danny's single again, Steve's also single and one day, I'm sure of it, one day they stop being so stubborn and they will kiss and snuggle on the couch and they know they'll grow old together because they love each other deeply and uniquely.

There are so many more details. But again, let’s stop here. Thanks so much for reading!

Season 10 is quite outstanding. Great episode. It was poetic, sad, heartbreaking cinema.

[kimjongdaely]

The Art of Sin [Chapter 5] [M]

Gang!AU, Racer!AU, Tattoo Artist!AU

Pairing: Chen x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, sexual situations, vandalism

Summary: He’s an artist. He does it all for the ‘art.’ Tattooing. Racing. Sex. All because he thinks they’re beautiful. There’s no one here that doesn’t know his name, because it’s everywhere. On every graffiti-filled wall, every tattooed skin, every cheer of the crowd. His name is there somewhere, because it’s all his—this world. And when he lays his eyes on you—well, he’s never seen anything more beautiful. And he’s going to make you his masterpiece.

Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3 [M]│Chapter 4 [M]│Chapter 5 [M]│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8 [M]

It’s two weeks later when Chen asks.

“Wanna date?”

For two weeks, you had been visiting EXO’s garage almost every day after you got off work. They welcomed you easily, a few shrugs and glances, because apparently it’s been a while since Chen had been with a girl.

You weren’t sure how you should act around Chen at first. You had sex, went on a date...learned what he really does. You should be terrified, but somehow, you’re not.

Chen never pushed you into anything. He was always casual, easy-going, laidback. He let you come, let you go, let you make your own decisions. You wonder if he knew that very first night that you wouldn’t be able to leave.

Like a butterfly caught in a spiderweb.

His question surprised you, but wasn’t exactly unexpected. The way you acted around each other felt couple-y already. He’s comfortable to be around, with that chill attitude, like nothing in the world really matters.

Your answer was, of course, “Sure.” You tried to act cool about it, calm and casual like the way he asked. It’s a lot harder than it seems, because your heart nearly jumped out of your throat, your hands clammy.

So that’s it. You’re dating him now. 

Making it ‘official’ didn’t really change much in your relationship. You went to him every afternoon, went to two or three races but you have yet to see him race. You see this guy known as Kai race a lot. Chen introduced you to him once after he won a race (you’re told he’s never lost...until...Chen didn’t finish that thought). He seems nice enough, flirty and smooth, but nice. There’s something in his eyes though, a kind of exhaustion that makes you worry for him.

Chen said that he would be racing tonight. Told you to wear something nicer, just to fit in. You’re ‘his’ girl now. Doesn’t seem too strange he’d want to show you off.

You wear skinny jeans, a black crop top and a leather jacket. Your hair is up in a high ponytail, because you know the races tend to get heated very quickly.  

When you get there, the crowd already seems to be pretty high and in full-swing. There are a lot more people than any race you’ve ever been to, a sight that makes you gulp nervously. It’s loud, so damn loud the floor pulses along with each note blasting through speakers, lights flashing all around.

You push through the crowd, trying to find EXO. They should be at the very front, next to the tracks.

“Excuse me.” You murmur, feeling incredibly small amongst the bodies of people. You almost get crushed a few times before you finally reach the front. You find Chen and his friends chatting, Kai is with him. He spots you, smiling and giving you a wave. 

When you reach him, he wraps you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Glad you could make it.“

“’Course.” You answer. “I wanted to see you race.”

He grins, sharing a glance with Kai who gives him a shrug.

“Well,” a deep voice rumbles in a chuckle, making a shiver run down your spine. You turn to face the speaker, a big man with a mean smile, ragged scars littered on his arms are shown off. “You ready for the race, boys?”

“Sure,” Kai answers easily, sharing another look with Chen. Kai doesn’t seem exactly pleased, though he keeps a cool composure. “You ain’t gonna back out from the deal, right?”

“’Course not, I’m a man of my word.” He says it humorously, gesturing at himself grandly. “I tell ya what? If you can win against me and my bro, I’ll buy all of your cars, no questions asked.”

Chen’s eyes shines. “Heh, pretty confident, aren’t ya?”

The man’s smile is wicked now, a threatening glint in his eyes. “’Course.”

Chen shrugs, an easy smile growing on his face. “Alright then. Let’s get this party started.”

You watch as the man and a friend of his gets into their respective cars. You can’t help but admire their cars; the guy just now has a shiny silver Subaru, not a speck of dirt on it.

Chen scoffs quietly beside you, Kai already getting ready to start. “Pity that car’s gonna get a few scars after tonight.”

“You’re really that confident?” You frown at him, feeling unease tickle your insides. They look tough, and scary. You wonder what kind of deal they made.

“Sure.” Chen winks at you. “Watch me, princess.”

He gets into his car, a white Nissan Skyline. You hear the engines rev to life, the flag girl blowing kisses to the crowd that cheers wildly, hyped for the upcoming race. When the flag goes down, the four cars zoom off, kicking up dirt.

You watch nervously as they glide smoothly down the track, Kai’s car clearly in the lead with the other team a close second. Chen is third. You watch his car intently, praying he’ll be able to override second place, but somehow it seems like that isn’t even his goal.

You watch in confusion as he seems to slow down, inching closer to the car in last place. He’s too close, and you can tell the other guy is nervous, afraid he’ll scratch or bump into his car, and he swerves left, trying hard to avoid him. Chen doesn’t let up though, continuing inching towards the guy’s car until he’s forced against the edges of the track. The guy tries to push back, tilting his car in hopes to get ahead of Chen, but the angle is off and he loses control of his car, spinning off the tracks. Chen speeds up as they come to a curve, going directly in front of the car that is in second place, replacing it. He blocks the car no matter which side it goes, as if Chen can predict his reactions.

He’s rigging the race! You gasp, wondering if anyone else notices, or if they even care. You glance at Chen’s friends, seeing the guy named Yeol smoke carelessly, looking bored out of his mind, his hand that isn’t holding the cigarette seemingly itching for something to do.

Either no one can see, or no one even cares. They just came for a good time, placing bets, drinking and getting high.

When they zoom past the finish line, it’s clear they Kai and Chen have won. The crowd is wild, cheering so loud you think you might go deaf. The other guy gets out of his car angrily, slamming the car door shut and stomping over to Chen, yelling at him.

You can see Chen’s easygoing smile, his careless shrug as Kai takes over. “A win is a win.” You can barely hear him say over the yelling, but you try reading his lips. “It’s our win, big guy.”

“You fucking cheated!” The other guy roars, face red and looking like he might explode at any second.

“What?” Chen looks convincingly shocked and offended. “You don’t have proof, man. Don’t be a sore loser.”

The man seems at loss for words now, sputtering incoherently before he stomps away with his friend.

When Chen and Kai come back, Kai obviously has a bitter look on his face, though he winks and grins at anyone who waves at him—especially the girls.

“Hey, good job guys.” Yeol says, blowing out smoke which you cough at. 

Kai huffs, a growl leaving his lips. “Yeah, whatever.” He pushes through the crowd, seemingly upset.

Chen shrugs at you, giving you a wink. “He’ll drink it off.”

“You rigged the race.” You hiss, eyes narrowing on him. 

He shrugs again, “And?”

“What do you mean ‘and?’” You exclaim in disbelief. “You cheated!”

“Yeah, well we gotta ensure a win somehow.” Chen says lowly, making sure no one hears. “This is our turf. We make the rules. Ain’t no one coming in here, challenge us and win. But it only happens occasionally, when we have a lot to lose. Most of the time we let Kai do his thing—he wins anyways, but sometimes we just need to make sure, ya know?”

You frown, deciding to hold your tongue. You knew they were the types to do illegal things to begin with. You decided to date him despite that. You don’t have any right to say what he’s doing is wrong—everything about him is wrong, but you’re with him regardless, isn’t that right?

“Aw, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling you close, lips finding that sweet spot below your ear. “Don’t be upset. It’s how we do things around here.”

“I’m not upset.” You lie, trying to act nonchalant. You chose him, and there’s no going back.

“How about we go for a ride?” He asks. “Get some air?”

“That sounds nice.” You manage a smile, a little excited you get to see him drive up close. And to get away from the sweaty, loud crowd and flashing lights. A drive sounds really, really nice right now. 

He ushers you towards his car, which is still surrounded by people after having finished the race. They let him through though, some clapping him on the back and giving him high-fives. You feel gazes on you that make you shiver, disgusted and Chen pulls you closer, throwing a glare at whoever looks at you wrong.

He opens the door to the passenger seat for you, making dramatic movements like a gentleman. You can’t help but laugh, getting in. He gets into the driver seat, revving up the engine and you can feel it rumble underneath you.

“This car’s my baby.” He says as he drives off, the crowd opening up a track for him to get out. It’s instantly quiet once he gets out the vicinity of EXO Customs. “92’ Nissan Skyline GT-R R32. Had it since college.”

“College?” You ask, never having head him mention it before. “What’d you study?”

“Art.” He answers, tone a little tighter than usual. His hold on the wheel is loose though, careless. You can’t help but stare at how good he looks driving like this, with his sleeves rolled up, hair pushed back from the wind, a lazy feel to him. “Always loved putting my mark on things. Seemed the obvious choice.”

“What about racing?” You watch him, see the way he glances at the rearview mirror, out the window. His neck is very pretty, you note, every time he turns his head. 

“Eh, racing is just another hobby.” He says casually. “When I met the guys, it’s all they did. Met them during high school. After we got out, I needed money to go to college, and they helped me with it. Couldn’t do it without ‘em.”

“Didn’t your parents pay for tuition?” You frown at that, wondering why an 18 year old kid fresh out of high school did things like that just to get into college.

You see his jaw clench, his hold on the wheel tightening, though his expression stays the same. “They weren’t the best.”

“Oh.” You don’t ask further. You feel like if you pushed it, he might snap at you, or just ignore you.

“Hey,” he says after a while of silence, a hand placed gently on your thigh. “I know a pretty place just up the hill.”

When he parks his car, you look up in awe at the stars glimmering in the sky. You rarely see stars in the middle of the city, but out here, it’s beautiful. You smile widely, counting the stars and wondering if you might be able to get to a million.

He chuckles. “You like it?”

“Yeah.” You beam at him. “Thanks, Chen.”

He seems pleased at your reaction, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“What do you wish for, Chen?” You ask, relaxing your body against the seat.

“I dunno.” He answers. “What about you?”

You think for a moment, watching how the stars shimmered like diamonds. “Maybe for you to be happy.”

He’s silent.

“Hey,” he pushes the seat back, climbing over to the backseat. He settles comfortably, patting his lap. “Come here.”

Hearing the growl in his voice, you instantly feel yourself grow hot. You climb to the back, sitting on his lap, your thighs on either side of him.

“Undress.” He murmurs, lips trailing your collarbone and your fingers are shaky when you peel off your leather jacket. It’s way too hot for that now.

His tongue peeks out to lick the dip of your collarbone, tracing the butterfly he tattooed for you. His tongue is searing on your skin, and his fingers trace circles against your waist.

You feel yourself begin to grow wet already. You move to take off your crop top, letting your breasts loose. 

He grins, pleased by the position as he moves to kiss them, nibbling and sucking, leaving hickeys. You’ve grown used to him leaving hickeys everywhere, and you always try to cover them up with concealer before you go to work.

“Keep going.” He growls against your skin as he feels you stop, arching against his mouth.

You let out a quiet whimper, feeling embarrassed for doing this yourself. Your trembling fingers move to your jeans, and you stand in order to push them off along with your underwear. When you settle back on him, the texture of his pants makes you moan.

“You sound so sexy.” He chuckles, his fingers dancing across your skin, down, down, down to tease at your entrance. “Wet already?”

You let out a soft whine, feeling him stroke you gently. It’s not enough though. You push his hand away, seeing him watch you with both surprise and amusement. You adjust yourself, shifting so you’re settled over his thigh, and you begin to slowly rock yourself.

He chuckles, clearly amused at what you’re trying to do. “Thigh riding, princess? You like this?” He presses his thigh harder against you and you moan, nodding as your hips go a little faster. The rough fabric of his pants adds a delicious bonus to your pleasure.

“Look at you.” He mumbles, his voice low and deep, vibrating through you and you clench harder, going faster to get more friction. “You’re so wet you’re staining my pants.”

“Chen.” You breathe out, your cheeks flushed and sweat beginning to bud on your skin. “I—”

“Want some help?” He grins, fingers coming to rub your clit slowly. “You gonna come, princess?”

You nod your head, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, letting his scent fill you. “G-Go faster.”

He complies, rubbing you faster as you continue going back and forth on his thigh, wanting to clench around something. You can feel your orgasm approach swiftly, almost there and you move your hips more desperately against him, your moans increasing in volume.

His fingers stop, and his hands come to hold your hips, halting you. “Wait princess,” he chuckles darkly as you whimper and whine, trying to shimmy your hips to no avail. “I can’t let you have all the fun now, can I?”

He unbuckles his pants and you wait in absolute torture as he slowly pulls out his dick, already rock hard with arousal. He sees how eager you are, so he leans back with his arms thrown over the seats, waiting for you to make your move. 

You hold him gently in your palms, running your fingers over his length, feeling smug when you hear him hiss at the feeling. You stroke his head, feeling the precum beading already. Some other time you’ll give him a blow job, you decide. But not today, because you’re too needy.

You pump him a few times, getting him ready although you know he’s plenty ready already. You slowly lift yourself, using his shoulders as leverage before you line yourself up with him, dropping as slowly as you can, clenching yourself around him torturously as revenge.

You feel his breath quicken, his hot puffs of breath mingling with yours. He holds your hips steady as you sink down fully, staying there for a moment to adjust.

“Fuck.” He swears, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. “You’re so tight like this.”

You clench again at his deep, sexy voice, and he immediately growls in return. You get a better grip on his shoulders, wanting to kiss him but he’s already working on your neck, sucking the spot under your ear. You brace yourself, lifting yourself up before sinking down again, mewling at that beautiful feeling.

His hold on you tightens as he helps you find a rhythm, rocking him. You slowly build your pace, increasing in speed as you try to get a better position. He angles himself, timing it right and pushing up whenever you come back down, hitting your sweet spot. You throw your head back, practically screaming as he does so.

He adds his fingers, rubbing your clit again as your orgasm builds. Your grip on him tightens as your legs begin to grow weak from the pleasure. It’s hard to keep the pace, beginning to become sloppy. 

“You close?” He breathes out and you nod vigorously, whimpering when his fingers and hips move even faster. “Me too, princess. Cum with me.”

You nod again, finding it hard to breathe in this small space. He body is so close, so hot against yours and you suddenly wish he had taken all his clothes off too so you could feel his skin on yours.

“Ah, I-I’m—” You almost sob as you finally reach your high, feeling the pleasure spike and wrack through your body. You shudder, grinding hard against him and with a few more thrusts he comes too.

You continue rocking, grinding against him even after your highs, and he squeezes your hips to stop you. “Good job, princess.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the edge of your jaw as you whimper in response.

He removes you from him, getting some tissues he has in his car to clean you up before helping you back into your clothes.

“Ready to head back?” He asks and you nod, settling back into your seat, trying to catch your breath. He chuckles as he revs the engine again.

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A/N: Whew I finally finished writing this! I hope you enjoyed it~ (I know I am *wink wink*)

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