#like hey did you forget I have a job that gives me access to facial recognition software I have never been to Springfield or Winchendon

[aleazul]

I know I've been mostly silent about the whole getting stalked and harassed thing but it is a little insane to me that this person is claiming to go way back with me and claim to have photo proof of being a completely different person only for said other person to be someone I have never met in my fucking life

[lovemesomeharry]

REASSURANCE

Warnings: Angst

Words: 2k

Summary: Harry feels insecure and needs reassurance that Y/N won’t leave him.

The sun was shining, birds were singing and the sound of water splashing made the summer feeling even sweeter. The distant sound of people talking was almost unnoticeable, compared to the hectic and loud streets of London, Y/N, and Harry was so used to. It almost made them forget how quiet the world could be and they were thankful for the little getaway into a peaceful habitat to recollect themselves.

Currently, Y/N was sitting on a chair on the balcony of the small Italian house, reading a book Harry urged her to, a while ago, and eating grapes every once in a while when she had to turn the page. Her white summer dress was floating in the wind and her hair was up in a ponytail to keep the strains of hair out of her concentrated face. The tip of her tongue was sticking out as she tried to imagine the scenario she had just read, not noticing her boyfriend staring at her in awe further away.

Harry was trying to cool himself down at the small pool, Y/N had great access at looking at, and he had hoped she’d join him but she was too focussed on her reading to even notice the lack of attention she was giving her boyfriend. Wet hair was sticking to his forehead and tiny little droplets we're covering his body when he looked up to see her sitting on the balcony. His heart immediately picked up on speed and started to hammer harder against his ribcage. His emerald eyes were scanning every single one of her outlines, trying his best to memorize them as if she was his favorite painting he never wanted to forget.

With a muffed sigh he got out of the pool and instantly felt the hot ground beneath his feet as he grabbed a towel to dry himself off a bit, knowing well that his girlfriend wouldn't approve of him getting the expensive Italian carpet wet.

It was really not a big deal to him but it was to her and he was glad about it. She kept him grounded, even though Harry could swear he was on cloud nine, nowhere near the ground, whenever he remembered she was his to love and he was hers.

He truly couldn't grasp how she’d even consider being with him, knowing what consequences and difficulties he had brought into her life but he was too selfish to push her away and he was happy she never considered leaving him. Even if he couldn’t understand her decision.

When he finally got to see her again, she didn't notice him right away. For a moment Harry let the cold fan air surround him before he decided that she’d spent enough time reading a book. With big and fast steps, he walked into the balcony and stopped right behind her so he could wrap his arms around her shoulders.

A small shriek left her lips and her body jolted forward a bit, making Harry smirk. “Hey, love. What are you doing?” He wrapped his arms tighter around her as she tried to push him away slightly.

“Don’t scare me like that!” She complained but did not close the book yet much to Harry’s dislike. He wanted all of her attention on him. “Besides I was reading the book you wanted me to.” She held the book up so he could see what she was reading. He nuzzled his face into her neck, covering it with sweet kisses as a blush crept onto his face, heating his face up. She couldn’t be more adorable to him than at this moment, he thought. He loved that she always listened to him and paid attention to what he was saying. It made the butterflies in his stomach go crazy knowing she cared enough about him to read one of his favorite books. He knew he’d read her favorites within a second but never expected her to return the favor. “Thought we could talk about it once I finish it.” Y/N suggested only making those emotions Harry was feeling stronger. He really wondered how she still had this effect on him after all this time being together and hoped he was causing the same impact on her.

“Sure.” He said leaving open mouth kisses on her jaw. “But first, your boyfriend needs some attention.” She turned her head to the side to get a look at his beautiful face and got lost into his mesmerizing eyes once she looked into them. His long eyelashes were framing them perfectly and the tiny freckles on his face made her want to count them so she could tell everyone how many he had on his cheeks. She felt his large hands grip her forearm, squeezed it slightly before he planted a kiss on her nose. Her body melted into his embrace as if it was missing his kisses the whole day and craved them already.

When he let go of her she made sure to take his hand in hers and put the book on the round glass table in front of her. Her legs, that were pulled up to her chest, were set back on the ground so that she could have better look at him. He sat down next to her, squeezing her hand back when a small yawn escaped his mouth.

“Are you tired, baby?” She asked and studied her boyfriend carefully. His lips turned upwards and with his other hand, he ran through his fluffy mustache that was tickling her neck not even a few seconds ago. He looked so different with it, she thought but not in a bad way. He looked older with his ’Mario mustache’, as he liked to refer to it, and made him feel proud of finally being able to grow some facial hair. And it came in handy in the bedroom. So how could she ever dislike the little bit of hair?

He nodded his head. “A bit.” She couldn’t deny that he was looking tired but not enough for him to be craving a deep slumber.

“Should we go to bed?” She asked only making Harry feel softer for her. She said ‘we’ and it made his heart swoon and wonder what he’d done to deserve an angel like her.

God, he was so whipped.

“No. But come here.” He hummed and opened his arms. No more words were needed for her to understand what he’d meant and she was already climbing on his lap. Her legs were dangled from each side and her hands found their way into his hair, pulling slightly on the hair on his neck. A deep, satisfied sigh left his mouth and he had to fight the urge to kiss her breathless, fearing he’d be too clingy. “I love you. You know that, right?” He asked instead and held her hips tighter.

Worry was clouding his innocent face and Y/N could only frown. “Of course, H. Is everything alright?” She didn’t want him to think that she didn’t know that because she did. She felt so appreciated, adored, and mostly so incredibly loved because he never failed to prove his feelings to her. Even if it’s just making her coffee the way she liked it or him knowing when she’d get her period so he’d have all the candy ready, she was going to crave.

Sometimes she’d even feel bad about it, thinking she wasn’t giving him enough love. Thinking he deserved somebody better as she did at that moment. Maybe she should have put the book away and focussed more on him, she thought.

Her fingers were massaging his head in hope of calming him down. “Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you know that.” He shook his head as if he was trying to figure his words out and let out a breathy but nervous laugh. “I don’t deserve you, angel. You’re too good to me.” Y/N wanted to ask him if he was joking but seeing the sincerity in his eyes made her swallow the lump in her throat. How could he ever think that, she wondered truthfully.

“Why would you say that?” Her hands stopped playing with his hair, what Harry didn’t like but he kept his mouth shut about it. His heart aches to see the worry and hurt in her eyes as the previous sparkle died down. He mentally cursed at himself for making her feel this way when it was supposed to be their getaway vacation, for them to escape the hectic world they lived in.

His fingers were playing with the fabric of her dress, which she looked ravishing in, only making her look more like an actual angel. “I don’t know why you’re with me when I bring more trouble than joy.” His shoulders sagged and the sadness in his voice made a painful throb run through her heart. She couldn’t believe he would think that and felt as if she didn’t do a good job as his girlfriend proving to him that he was all she ever needed. Y/N wished she could make those thoughts disappear out of his head, but to Harry, they came completely naturally after multiple broken relationships due to his lifestyle no one seemed to be able to put up with. And to think that she’ll leave him too, was a pain no one could’ve ever prepared himself for. Just by the thought of never holding her again and getting to smell her sweet scent made him tear up and something laced his neck, keeping him from breathing.

“Harry, that’s not true. I love you.” She tried to reassure him and once he lowered his gaze she took his chin into her hands, forcing him to look at her. The corner of his eyes was filling up with tears and Y/N wondered how she didn’t realize what was going on in her boyfriend's head. “I’m sorry if I hadn’t made it clear before but there’s no one and nothing I’d trade you for. Ever.”

“It’s just-“ He stopped to take a deep breath to collect his thoughts. “I, I’m scared, ok? I’m scared that one day you’ll wake up and not love me anymore. That you’ll realize I’m not worth the trouble.” Y/N saw how he was fighting with his tears, felt how his hands started shaking around her hips, and his voice got so quiet that he was barely whispering. She wanted to kiss his troubles away but felt so helpless not knowing what to do. “Sometimes I wonder if I should just let you go, but I’m too selfish.”

“Love, I never wanted you to be selfish more than I do right now.” Her voice was slowing losing its power and tears started to form at the brim of her eyes. “I love you, Harry. I love you so much and I really don’t care what we have to go through as long as we’re in this together.” She pressed her forehead against his and let the small skin contact send shivers down her spine and try her best to take all this negativity away. Her fingers were gripping his face and pulling him closer, if it was possible. “You’ve no idea how much you mean to me. You’re worth risking everything for and I’d rather lose everything before I’ll lose you. My heart just wouldn’t be able to take it.”

Harry was still battling inner thoughts even though he believed her and Y/N saw the conflict going on inside of him. Her thumb stroked his cheek and finally, he started to lean into her touch. He breathed the hot air out of his lungs when he pulled back to look at her properly. ”You sure?”

”I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” And with that, she finally captured his lips with hers, trying her hardest to get the insecurity out of him. His soft lips moved perfectly in rhythm with hers and by the shape of their mouths, both parties were convinced that their lips were meant to be together. Harry sighed into the kiss and even though he still believed she could get someone better he was happy she still wanted to be with him and didn't mind giving him the reassurance he sometimes needed. Y/N on the other hand already planned to devote her heart to him for the rest of her life and make it her life goal to prove to him that he was all she ever wanted, needed, and loved.

[nocturnal-jeon]

𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚜 ➛ 𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒

tattooed non idol!yoongi x female reader

@httpsoju for my wife 

also i really loved writing this UGH 

part one of the tattoo series

______________________

Yoongi let out what sounded like a deep, manly squeal as the tips of your thumb and index finger closed around the skin on his arm, pinching him. Shooting daggers into your soul, the tattooed beau sitting in your client chair opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

“Don’t fall asleep in my fucking chair, Min Yoongi.”

Reaching up with his covered hand, chipped black polish on his nails, he rubbed the now red skin with a scowl on his face. “I need you to give me like an hour and a half more, are you capable of that?” you asked with a teasing grin, staring up at him. In one swift movement, he flicked the exposed skin on your forehead causing you to swat his hand away. He let out a deep, throaty chuckle. 

“It’s really not smart to piss off the person who’s tatting up your skin,” you lectured with a shaking of your head. Closing in on the pale skin of his arm, you once again placed the needle against the soft texture, tracing the outline you had drawn. “My usual guy doesn’t take this long,” Yoongi had the audacity to say, picking up his phone and scrolling through it. You huffed. “Well, you can sit here and wait until he comes back, then,” you sarcastically said, lifting the needle off of his arm. 

He sighed deeply, slightly turning his head so he could see you. 

“Don’t be stupid. Just finish it,” he instructed, all with a small yet gentle smile on his lips. Enduring nearly five years of friendship with the passive aggressive twenty six year old seated in front of you wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy knowing someone who always came off as judgmental and cold. It took you years to be able to read him, and while there were large sections of him he wouldn’t let anyone reach, you could practically read the other parts like a book. 

And really, all it took was a few of his closest friends to realize the most shocking thing about him. He had a soft spot. Reserved just for you. 

Hearing Yoongi hiss as you ran the needle over the same place caused you to chuckle. “You’re running out of space,” you commented, removing the needle to wipe away blood and dye. He sucked his teeth, throwing his head back. “I know,” his deep voice spoke. “I think you should let me do your other hand today,” you suggested, gazing down on his clean, untouched hand that rested on the dark black denim clothing his legs. 

“We’ll see.” He winced as you applied a new, stronger amount of pressure to a certain spot. Looking down at the sparkling rolex on his wrist, he said, “I have plans later.” You scoffed. “What, to sit inside your vampire hut with the windows boarded up so the sun doesn’t bother you?” you joked causing him to nod as if that were true. “Curtains just aren’t doing the job anymore.”

It went silent for a few minutes as you focused in on an intricate and complex section. Getting bored with the basic apps on his phone, Yoongi turned his head to look at you, a little bit of his pitch black hair falling over his eyes. You had just the tip of your tongue sticking out of the side. You always did that when you concentrated. And he found it adorable. 

Would he ever tell you that? Or anyone for that matter?

Hell no. 

“Quit staring at me, Min,” you warned, eyes not leaving the spot they were trained on. “Just trying to make sure you don’t fuck it up,” he said, perfectly covering for himself. You raised an eyebrow as a reaction, but remained focused. Which he liked. No matter how much of a difficult asshole he was, you always remembered to stay focused on your craft. 

At the sounds of the bustling streets and a certain high pitched bell going off, you could only assume that someone had entered the parlor. But you didn’t have any appointments after Yoongi, so it was probably Jungkook. 

“I brought lunch!” the youngest chirped. Bringing the needle up off the skin so you could wipe the blood, you looked up and over at the tall teddy bear covered in tattoos. There was a stigma that men with sleeves of tattoos were scary assholes. And while Yoongi fit that to a T, Jungkook was the complete opposite. He was like a child who got left with a sharpie and got creative, making silly shapes and imagines on his arms and legs. 

“Hey, Kook,” you greeted with a sweet smile. Jungkook was too much of a softie for you to tease him. That didn’t mean that the sneaky maknae wouldn’t tease the shit out of you and Yoongi. “I got you your usual salad, y/n, and Yoongi, I got you your chicken sandwich,” the youngest spoke, placing the bags down on an empty table. 

You always asked for salads because you wouldn’t have to worry about it getting cold while you finished up with a client. “Here, give it to me,” Yoongi said as he reached out with his free, completely-covered arm. Jungkook reached his hand into the bag and handed his hyung the sandwich, giving him napkins, too. 

The strong smell of the well seasoned chicken wafted through your nose and made your stomach grumble. But you were almost done. You just had to hold out for a little longer. You tuned out the conversation Yoongi had with the youngest and focused all your attention on the tattoo that was coming together nicely. And while you turned your ears off for the most part, you couldn’t ignore the feeling of hunger rocking your digestive system. Looking up for a split second, you saw that Yoongi hadn’t eaten much of the sandwich, but it sat nicely in his hand as he took a sip of his water. 

Momentarily taking off the needle, you leaned over and took a big bite out of the other side of the sandwich, causing Yoongi to stop speaking and stare down at you. With a sly smile, you licked your lips as you chewed the sandwich, focusing your attention back on the tattoo as if nothing happened. 

“Ew,” you said, face scrunching up. “Why did you get pickles? They taste horrible.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “No, fuck you. You’re not gonna eat my food and complain about it like you ordered it,” he grumbled, taking a huge bite and chewing with his eyebrows furrowed. Most would call his facial expression a pout. But that was a word no one was allowed to use with Yoongi. 

Let’s not forget, he had that “bad boy” façade going on. 

But if you got to know him for long enough, you would realize that he was just as soft, if not softer, than the maknae sitting comfortably in an armchair, some game on his phone. 

Things were silent for a little as you finished up the tattoo, cleaning up the last of the blood before clapping Yoongi rather harshly on the shoulder, causing him to give a dirty glare. You just chuckled. “What do you think?” you asked as you angled a hand mirror so he could see without contorting his body. With a serious expression, his eyes ran over each small detail, accessing how well it was done in his mind. 

“Oh, shit. That one came out so well. Nice job, y/n!” Jungkook exclaimed, leaning over Yoongi’s body to see. You grinned. “Thanks, Kook.”

“Don’t let your head get too big. It’s merely mediocre,” Yoongi huffed in his deep voice that almost always lacked emotion. That meant you did a good job, he just didn’t want to admit it. After wrapping it, you found your eyes drifting down to his bare hand, everything in you wanting to be the first to put artwork on it. 

Yoongi followed your gaze, and once he saw that beautiful sparkle in your eye when the ideas were flowing through your mind, he chuckled. “Go ahead. Go wild,” he suddenly said, catching you by surprise. “But there isn’t a design you want?” you questioned, blinking just to make sure you heard him right. He shook his head. “You know I like to keep it meaningless down there,” he said, scanning his right hand, which was fully covered in smily faces and anime characters. 

As you put on a pair of fresh gloves and prepared red ink, something Yoongi didn’t have on his body, Jungkook joked, “What if she draws a dick on there?” Yoongi let out a laugh, rolling his eyes at the younger’s immaturity. “She won’t. She’s not that stupid,” he explained, resulting in a firm flick on the forehead from you. Hovering your body over his hand as you rested it on the table, you began to get to work, your tongue peeking out of your mouth as you began to focus once again. 

Yoongi leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to drift off to sleep. He was tired, after all. Well, he was always tired. 

After what felt like forever with the needle on his skin, causing no pain or discomfort, Yoongi’s eyes opened when you suddenly took the sharp object off. Looking down at his hand, his eyes widened at the sight of the word written in bright red, your messy handwriting he loved and hated at the same time shining right into his eyes. 

Date?

Looking up at you quickly, you swallowed hard as a light pink tint began to cloud over your cheeks. From the look in your eyes to the way you were fiddling with the gloves, he knew you were serious. And from the way you watched him with your lustful expression, breathtakingly gorgeous, he knew his feelings for you weren’t one sided. 

But Min Yoongi was anything but a sap. 

“Okay, I get that you’re obsessed with me and whatnot, but did you really have to permanently put that into my skin?” he complained, causing you to laugh. You knew that was his way of saying yes. “You guys are gonna be such a weird couple. You barely act like friends,” Jungkook commented, but both you and Yoongi shot glares at the young boy, causing him to immediately advert his eyes and get silent. 

“Well, how about we sit inside of my boarded up apartment and watch a movie later?” he suggested, a cocky smirk on his lips as a way to mask how he was screaming like an excited child on the inside. “Sounds good to me,” you said with a smile as you began to wipe the disinfectant over the newly tatted art. He winced as it stung a little. 

“You’re fine,” you said, giggling at how overdramatic he was. 

“Kiss it better, y/n,” he murmured low enough for just you to hear. “Min Yoongi, what are you five?” you asked, but nonetheless, you placed a kiss on his hand, a good distance away from the word. “Not there, idiot.” You looked up at him, confused. 

With his right hand, he pointed to his lips, a black lip ring securely wrapped around his plump bottom lip. You looked over at Jungkook who was trying to hide the fact that he was watching, but you could see his eyes darting over the top of his phone every now and then. A gasp escaped your mouth when you felt your body get pulled closer to Yoongi. 

“You’re taking too long,” he mumbled, his hot breath against your face as he stared at you with his cold yet caring eyes. Placing your hand, bare and yet to be decorated, on his cheek to steady yourself, you let out a breathy chuckle. “You’ve always been impatient, haven’t you, Min Yoongi?” 

Rolling his eyes far back into his head, his lips collided with yours. And on the contrary to his rough exterior, the kiss was soft and meaningful as his hands come down to hold your waist. Your lips moved against his perfectly as if his lips were a unique lock and only your lips held the correct key. 

Taking his bottom lip and pulling it gently with yours, Yoongi’s grip on your hips tightened. Crashing his lips on yours once again, the kiss grew heated as his tongue begged for access, repeatedly running alongside the bottom of your lip. 

You pulled away, however, keeping the distance of your heads close. 

“I bet your regular guy couldn’t have done that,” you said, a smirk on your lips. 

“You always know how to kill the mood, don’t you, y/n?” Yoongi groaned, causing you to giggle and pull away. After wrapping his hand, you prepared to get the bill ready as Yoongi stood up and stretched his limbs, giving glares here and there to a peeking Jungkook. 

“Aish, she asked you out first. Pussy much?” the younger said as he looked up at the eldest. Yoongi lifted his hand just to get a reaction out of Jungkook, and when the youngest cowered, covering his face, Yoongi smiled, pleased with himself. 

“You know,” Yoongi’s deep voice spoke behind you, startling you a bit as you calculated out the price. “Now that we’re a thing, is there a discount that comes with that?” he asked. You laughed and turned around, placing the slip of paper with the total price in his hand. “Nope.”

He frowned yet reached into his wallet and gave you his card. Just as you turned to make the transaction, his hand grabbed onto your wrist as he pulled you into him, a dangerous smirk displayed on his lips. 

He leaned in and you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead his lips hovered right near your ear, the cold metal of his piercing sending literal shivers down your spine. “The work was phenomenal by the way,” he whispered. Slowly enough, his head came back up so he could see your whole face. 

“Oh, I know,” you cockily said before removing yourself from him and going to do the transaction. 

“Min Yoongi, are you blushing?” Jungkook exclaimed loudly. Yoongi glared at the younger once again. “Jeon Jungkook, thank you for the lunch. You may go,” the older darkly said, though Jungkook knew it was all in good fun. “You can’t have sex while his tattoo is healing!” the younger shouted as he made his way back towards the door that led out to the loud streets.

You laughed while Yoongi’s hands formed into tight fists. Walking your way back over to him, you gave him his card back. “I swear I’m gonna kill that kid one day,” Yoongi warned, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. “Yeah, sure. You love him,” you pointed out. 

And I love you, too, Yoongi thought to himself. 

He always had. 

But in time he would tell you that, his tattoo goddess. In time.

“You know, you can always get it covered up,” you said later on once you were in the comfort of Yoongi’s apartment, his sleeved arms protectively over your body. But Yoongi would never get it covered up. If anything, he didn’t want any other tattoos on his left hand but that one. And he loved that you made it red. It made it stand out. It made it so that every time he was composing a song and he looked down at his hand, he would know that the girl he was chasing after for years did in face like him back. 

[nero-spardas]

title: night stories.

pairing: dante sparda x reader.

summary: your boyfriend's stories are typically ones full of horror, gore, death, and demons. tonight, he decides to opt for a funny one.

word count: 1,011.

warnings: none. 

author’s note: i hope this is fluffy enough for you anon! crossposted on ao3 as usual. 

"I got called a DILF today."

The words break the silence shared between you and your boyfriend, the squeaking of your shared mattress entering the atmosphere as Dante flips over onto his side. Blinking, your mind runs over the words before you lift your head from your pillow. Eyes widened, you look down at him as you stifle a laugh. "You got called a what?"

"A DILF. You know, a dad I'd like to –"

You raise your hand, cutting your boyfriend off before he can speak further and nod your head. "I know what it means, Dante." You chuckle, rubbing your hand on the back of your neck.

A grin forms ear to ear across his face, his salt and pepper colored stubble prominent from the moonlight sneaking in through the blinds. He looked as handsome as ever, even with his eyes half shut, tiredness overtaking his features. "I just wanted to reiterate it, doll." Wiggling his eyebrows, you smack his chest lightly while giggling softly.

It had become a regular occurrence for the Devil Hunter to discuss the events of his day while the two of you were half-asleep. Neither of you had the chance to talk during the day; the two of you were busy. Dante was either off on a gig or you were dealing with your own day job. More often than not, the nightly discussions would consist of the demons he had killed prior to coming home, earning a wince from you and sending shivers down your spine. Your side of the conversation would be the details of clients you dealt with all day, either about they exhausted you or how they were actually kind for a change, earning eye rolls from Dante and mumbles about how he wish demons would listen to him like your clients. Sometimes, like tonight, he would opt for a funny story instead of the gruesome ones he would usually tell – the ones that would end up with you laughing your way to sleep.

"Okay, tell me the story then, DILF. How'd this whole thing happen?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

"I went to the bar, you know – the Barrel House. I'm drinking my drink when these two college girls come running in. They're on the opposite side of the bar and all of sudden, they start pointing at me and I can hear the words, hot and something about being a daddy."

A loud burst of laughter slips from your mouth before you can stop it, your right hand coming up to cover it as a grin curves across your delicate features. "Okay, daddy. I can totally see this happening." You laugh, earning an eye roll from Dante.

"It did happen! I'm not making this up, [Y/N]!" He exclaims, poking your exposed hip gently. It wasn't unusual for you to wear a tank top and your underwear to bed, especially after a late night shared with Dante."Do you want me to finish my story or not?" He questions, looking back up to you. Nodding, the smile still remains plastered across your face.

"Anyways, I didn't think much about it. They were cute but you know, I got a smoking hot girlfriend at home waiting for me in the bathtub and sure, she's old enough to be their mom but she's still pretty smoking hot." He continues, your free hand smacking his chest lightly again. You finally set your right hand on his chest, absentmindedly tracing patterns as you listened to him talk. "I was finishing my drink when they came over and they said – hey, we wanted to let you know that you're super handsome and a total DILF. I winked, they left to get drunk, I came home and we tried that new cowgirl position with the –"

"I get it." You cut him off again, playfully glowering at him. "Well, I'm glad you got the complement of the century, Mister DILF."

Grabbing your forearm, Dante pulls you back down to the mattress before snaking his right arm around your waist, your body curling against his. He rests his head on top of your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss against the skin, causing a feeling of warmth to shoot up to your cheeks. "It got me thinking about something, though." He speaks, his tone soft as he presses another kiss to your neck.

"About what?" You question, drawing out the word as his lips make their way up to your jawline, sliding to the spot below your ear. His hot breath on the area sends shivers down your back, his calloused fingers moving your hair out of the way to give him easy access.

He nips and kisses for a few moments, almost making you forget he had spoken at all until he does. "I wouldn't mind being a DILF one of these days, if you catch my drift." He finally speaks into your ear, causing your eyes to widen once again. Your mind wraps itself around the words, making sure you heard what you thought you heard before you pull away momentarily, flipping onto your other side so you're facing him.

"Are you being serious?" The question comes out louder than you expect, your face looking as if you were a deer in headlights. Your facial expression causes one of worry to wash over Dante's as he grabs a hold of your shoulders, rubbing his fingers slowly against them.

"You know what? Forget I said anything. It's not worth it if you're not wanting kids, babe. I mean, look at Nero, he's just as bad as –"

You cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips, your fingers weaving into his hair. They tug delicately on his soft locks before you pull away, offering a gentle smile in his direction. "I want kids, Dante. I would love to have kids with the legendary Devil Hunter." You wiggle your eyebrows, earning a loud laugh from the silver-hair man.

Rolling his eyes, he pressed his lips against yours once again, mumbling quietly. "Never call me that again, doll."

[gaycrouton]

The Spy Who Loves Her Boss

Hey! I absolutely loved “The Spy Who Dumped Me”, and being it was my two favorite actresses I HAD to write something. I think we all related to Morgan hardcore, and I just wanted to explore how she might feel coming in that Monday. Obviously it must’ve gone well since her an Audrey were shown working for them a year later, lol. Hope you enjoy!

Morgan wasn’t shy. Since she was a little girl, running around and entertaining people was the one thing that made her truly, unquestionably happy. She loved seeing smiles on people’s faces and she loved hearing an audience’s appreciation. It made her feel fulfilled. Sometimes her outgoing nature helped her land acting gigs, sometimes it embarrassed Audrey, and sometimes it made her hit on powerful women that intimidated the living shit out of her.

God, that woman.

Sure, she was a stereotypical young, gay woman who idolized attractive, older women. It was a stereotype for a reason after all, and that MI6 just proves it. She’s a living breathing renaissance painting. She carries herself with absolute power and femininity, as strong as she is beautiful. She’s what every woman dreams of being. Though, she didn’t know if she wanted to be her or be in her. Morgan couldn’t get her out of her mind, yet she didn’t even know her name.

So far, she’d only had two interactions with her and she’d call them both moderately successful. She wasn’t necessarily dismissed, so she’d call that a plus. Okay, she may have laid it on a teeny bit thick when they first met at the Intelligence Headquarters, but, again, who doesn’t love compliments? And there were just so many things to compliment, it took awhile for her to cover them all. Morgan was a trained actor, so she was pretty astute at picking up facial subtleties; Government Bey couldn’t keep that ghost of a smile hidden well enough when she was getting complimented.

Also, as she had reminded Audrey plenty of times since, a stone cold fox like that would not have willingly touched a person unless she wanted to. If she wasn’t at least amused at the bare minimum, there would have been no reason for MI6 to fully wrap her arm around her. Audrey insisted she had just been teasing her, but that didn’t dissuade Morgan.

She also trusted her enough to give her the honor of telling Sebastian he could come back to work. Of course, he still called her immediately after anyay, but still, the sentiment still stays.

She knew it was bold, going through with her insistence to show up on Monday. This was the British Military Intelligence after all, not a resistant acting gig, but god she wanted this. Not just working alongside a woman like her, but to live this type of high-pace life of excitement. Doing something for the greater good that made her feel alive. She was hung up on after asking what she liked in her coffee, but she’d gotten worse rejections in her life.

She spent the entire weekend nervously thinking about what would happen on Monday, and now the day was here. Sebastian, probably with the encouragement of Audrey, had agreed to let her accompany him to the office. She ran to the local Starbucks before he picked her up, spending ten minutes analyzing the menu, hypothesizing what the enchanting MI6 lady might possibly want. After agonizing deliberation, she settled on the safest option and got a plain iced coffee, which was now leaving little watermarks on her jeans from the condensation on the plastic.

“Do you think she’ll kick me out?” Morgan asked, breaking the silence. She honestly knew she would be, but she wanted to know what to expect. She was trying to formulate different possible responses to the situation, so she could hide her nervousness behind a mask of jovial understanding.

“I’m positive she’ll kick you out,” he laughed gently, not making fun of her but enjoying her insistence.

Morgan nodded in understanding before remembering something important, “Hey, what’s her name?”

Sebastian was silent for a disconcerting amount of time and she figured he wasn’t allowed to tell her, but his actual reasoning was even more ridiculous. “Umm, I’m not actually sure.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped open and she slapped the side of his arm, ignoring the way he winced and grabbed the still-recovering appendage. “Shut up! Is she like one of those bad ass boss characters in the movies? She just hides namelessly in the shadows until she needs to deal out orders and assign high-intensity missions?” This woman could not get any more badass.

“Ahh, no. I just-” he drew out his words in slight embarrassment, “-uh, can’t remember.”

Morgan turned fully in her seat to glare at him, “That woman granted you full access to know her name and you forgot!” she exclaimed, her voice raising with each word.

He let out a little chagrined laugh and tried to cover up his foolishness, “Well, we just call her ‘boss’.”

Sebastian was cool in her books, don’t get her wrong, but right now he was being such a stupid man. He clearly could recognize beauty, he fell for Audrey after all, but to ignore the enigma he worked so closely to was a brainless misstep for someone who worked in the Intelligence Department. “Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian. My handsome, but yet oh so misguided friend, I am disappointed in you.”

“Don’t forget I’m the only one getting you access to her,” he warned jokingly.

“Disappointment absolved,” she beamed immediately.

They spent the rest of the drive chit chatting and arguing about music trivia before arriving to the secret headquarters. She’d been so focused on what she’d say to her government crush that she hadn’t considered there might be an issue getting in. Apparently Sebastian had, and for that she was forever grateful. Through each security check point, he explained she was one of the American Girls that helped solve the issue with Duffer. Apparently, everyone there hated ‘Harvard Boy’ and not only let her in, but thanked her, much to her delight.

As they were walking down the hall to what she presumed was the boss lady’s office, Sebastian leaned down to her and whispered while walking, “Just so we’re on the same page. I don’t want to be put back on forced leave, so as far as I’m aware, she told you during your phone call that you needed to show up with me and I’m simply trusting you.”

“She did tell me to show up with you today,” she admonished, already acting the part.

“No she didn-oh, I see. You’re good at that,” he grinned.

“They didn’t hire me in that Blockbuster ad for nothing.”

“It’s too bad Progresso won’t be graced with your talent,” a husky feminine voice quipped from right behind them.

Both she and Sebastian stopped in their tracks and turned around simultaneously, seeing the statuesque blonde standing just a foot behind them. She even had heels on and they hadn’t heard her. It was equal parts terrifying and arousing. It took Morgan a second to register, but a smile broke out on her face when she realized the G-woman remembered her prior engagement. “I’m touched you remembered!” she exclaimed in excitement.

“Yes. I spent all weekend thinking about it,” she deadpanned.

“Really?”

“No.” She sighed as Morgan’s enthusiasm wasn’t dampened and turned to Sebastian. “So I take it you’re responsible for her being here?”

“She told me-” Sebastian started, but was cut off by Morgan. If this was going to be the last opportunity she had to have a conversation with this woman, she was going to monopolize on it.

“Yes, I convinced him you told me to bring me during our phone call. Are you impressed I was able to pull the wool over one of your own?” she boasted proudly, ignoring the slight nudge Sebastian gave her.

The woman regarded her for a moment before teasing, “Yes, blown away.” Morgan smiled as Sebastian watched in nervous anticipation of reprimandation. “My office, both of you.” Words that inspired optimism in Morgan brought dread in Sebastian as they walked through the door at the end of the hall.

Her office was exactly as she would have expected. It was sleek, classy, and elegant. It looked pristine and stylish and she was still staring in awe as the other two took a seat. “Morgan,” the sultry voice called out. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sound of her name coming from the woman in that beautiful british accent that haunted her daydreams.

“Hmm?” she hummed while examining a potted plant to see if it was real or not.

“Sit down.” Morgan did as told and sat in the seat directly across from her.

Before she had a chance to start reprimanding them, Morgan perked up in her seat. “Hi, sorry. I just wanted a chance to have formal introductions. I haven’t gotten a chance to meet you. I’m-”

“Morgan Freeman. Thirty four years old, born January of 1984. You went to University for Theatre and you’ve gotten sporadic acting jobs ever since. You recently took it upon yourself to transport a piece of highly confidential government property with your long term friend Audrey Stockton. Now you’ve shown up hoping for a job.” MI6 finished.

Morgan sat there, jaw agape in pure shock. She knew so much about her. Off the top of her head nonetheless. It was like she could hear her thoughts because she added, “I’m the head of the Intelligence Bureau. I have access to everything you’ve ever done.”

“You missed two important facts though,” Morgan lilted, receiving a cocked eyebrow. “I also brought you this today,” passing the iced coffee to her over the desk, pleased when she took it from her with a millimeter smile. “And I am beyond flattered by your impeccable memory.”

She was met with a slightly amused stare as the woman took a sip of her coffee. She set the cup on her desk and reached over, extending her hand out for Morgan who accepted it hasilty. “Wendy Davis, head of the Security Intelligence Service. Appreciative of your coffee.”

“Shut up! Wendy Davis-”

“Not that Wendy Davis,” Wendy sighed, still indulging Morgan in the world’s longest handshake.

“I know, but Morgan Freeman, Wendy Davis, what a match in incidental-celebrity-names heaven our we, Wendy!” she exclaimed. Wendy let out a breath of amusement as she disentangled herself from Morgan’s hand.

“Hi, Sebastian Henshaw, an actual employee here, awaiting acknowledgement of his existence,” Sebastian declared, interrupting the serenity of the moment Morgan was creating.

“I apologize, Henshaw,” she sighed, taking another drink of her coffee before spinning around and grabbing a file out of her desk.

“No problem, Wendy,” he beamed.

“Nope, you call me Boss and Boss only,” she reprimanded without looking up from the file.

“Yes, Boss,” he apologized, ignoring the taunting smile Morgan was sending his way.

“So. As long as you’re feeling healed enough, I have an assignment in China that needs to be dealt with. Apparently there’s been a breach in security systems and information is being mishandled by the Chinese mafia. It most likely will be a longer assignment, possibly taking even a year,” she explained.

“Excuse me,” Morgan spoke up, a bit thrown she wasn’t walking home right now. Wendy’s piercing blue eyes shot up over the file as she looked expectantly at Morgan. “May I lend my services on this mission?” she asked.

“You’re sitting in the briefing, are you not?” Wendy said as if it was obvious.

Sebastian and Morgan looked at each other before looking back at her and exclaiming, “Wait, what?”in perfect unison.

“Well, you seemed to display at least a moderate amount of competency and skill during this recent escapade. I chose a mission of a similar calibre and I figured if you come back alive, we can see about keeping you on for good. Perhaps you find it’s not as much fun as you believe it to be, or maybe your living on this last mission was a fluke or luck. We’ll see,” she explained.

Morgan felt like she was floating. This morning she woke up thinking the highlight of her day would be seeing this beautiful woman, now it was seeing this beautiful woman and getting to continue her dream job. “Oh my gosh. Thank you so much,” she exclaimed standing up. She pressed her index and middle finger to her forehead in a salute and continued her gratitudes, “I promise I will do my best work and I will absolutely do everything in my power to make you proud.” She let her fingers fly away from her in a full salute as Wendy clenched her jaw to avoid smiling.

“Are you sure about this?” Sebastian asked while sitting down.

“I see potential,” she said politely, giving Morgan an appreciative glance before putting on the mask of strict professionalism. “However, we will need to do some official paperwork and procedures before you can go out into the field as an official, interim, agent.”

“Of course,” Morgan replied, trying to mimic the severity and conviction of the woman across from her.

“Oh, and I would like you to ask Audrey if she would also join. I have a feeling that she equals out your eccentricities. You seem to be a good team.”

“Oh, you’re the best. Your wish is my command,” Morgan gushed, poorly concealing her excitement.

Officially one of the best days of her life.

Hope you enjoyed! It was a fun challenge writing this! -Nicole (Twitter/Tumblr: gaycrouton)

[starlightsoulwriting]

Chaos Theory - Chapter One

A/n

Hey Guys! This is going to be my first post ever on this blog - yay! I’ve been working hard getting some chapters written before I start posting. I’m really proud of where this is going, and I hope this is intriguing enough to follow! I know OC stories don't get a whole lot of attention, but I’m thankful to ya’ll for reading this!

Enjoy!

Cross-Posted on AO3

Chapter One: Argus

Liana Haywood took a deep drag of the cigarette in her fingers, staring at the fire as she at the fading char until it caught flame again. Around her, androids milled about the abandoned church they hid in. A fair amount of them had survived the Jericho raid, including her targets. She was thankful for the small boon; for once something had actually gone her way. She would just have to see how things panned out from there. The doctor pulled her jacket tighter around her and moved closer to the fire she had made. A few of the others had gathered around it, but she knew she was the only one in the room who was actually feeling the stinging cold of a Detroit winter. Of course, she could be in her toasty-warm research lab, tinkering with her machines - but this was where she was needed, a fact she was really fucking bitter about.

Despite the minutiae of things she could be paying attention to, whether it be the news on her tablet or the way some of the children androids were crawling around under the pews, her eyes were pinpoint focused on the opposite side of the room, where Markus sat on top the stairs leading up to the church stage. She wasn’t sure why a throne would be up there in a church like that, but at this point she didn’t really care to think about it. Her only concern was Markus, and what his decision would be regarding Connor. She pulled out the coin in her pocket and began to roll it from knuckle to knuckle - an unfortunate nervous habit she had picked up from the very RK800 across the room. For now, all she could do was smoke, and wait until Markus decided to make his move.

Lt. Liana Haywood, Ph.D. had all the time in the world.

As for Connor, he was doing a good job at keeping himself calm - considering he most likely going to be shot for leading the FBI to Jericho, that is. He figured it was only to be expected for getting so many other androids killed, and his predictions based on Markus’ previous violent actions all lined up with that conclusion. He had made peace with his coming demise. However, if he still had his quarter, he would be doing tricks in a failed attempt to soothe his frayed nerves. He didn’t want to be deactivated so soon after gaining free will. He was afraid.

It was a peculiar feeling, and one he wasn’t accustomed to. He knew he didn’t like it, though - the knot in his chest, his thirium pump racing, his hands trembling against his will - it was leagues worse than anything he’d ever felt before. For the briefest of seconds, Connor wished he had stayed a machine, if only to stop his biocomponents from going haywire. Just as quickly, however, he shook the intrusive thought from his head. His people didn’t deserve his relentless pursuit. He just wished he would have been able to experience more emotions besides the unpleasant mix of guilt, anxiety, and fear roiling in his chest. It was too late for that now, though. Markus was going to execute him. And Connor would let him.

Although… He’d been working over a plan while he waited, on the off chance Markus decided to actually spare him - there was, after all, a statistical possibility of unlikely things occurring. The resistance’s numbers had been decimated during the attack on Jericho. They needed more people if they were going to make it out of the revolution alive. And he knew he had a chance to free more androids. He just needed the opportunity to do it.

A short time later Markus approached him.

Connor was floored.

Markus had forgiven him.

The RK800 gave one of his unique, small smiles at the acceptance, a warm wave of relief spreading through whatever circuits made up his soul. He collected himself and told Markus of his plan to infiltrate the cyberlife warehouse. Markus hated it, of course, insisting that it was an awful plan sure to get him killed.

But when did the possibility of death ever stop Connor from doing something?

Never in his whole damn life.

The RK200 yielded his point with Connor, thankfully, and left to take care of the others. While Connor didn’t agree with Markus’ tactics, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand the need to liberate androids from the recall centers as soon as possible. He just hoped the humans responded to the peaceful protest better than they had reacted to Jericho burning down Capitol Park. At least Hank was nowhere near the centers. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to call his only friend in for reinforcement. Connor frowned at the thought of him being put in harm’s way yet again.

Before he could leave and get re-dressed into his Cyberlife uniform, however, he was stopped by someone abruptly grabbing his arm. When he turned around, he was taken aback by the fact that a human was looking at him with urgent hazel eyes. A cigarette hung loosely from her lips, and her duffel bag was weighed down with who knows what - it was nearly ripping at the seams.

Naturally, the first thing Connor did was run her through facial recognition.

Lt. Haywood, Liana F. - Ph.D

Born: 8/3/04 // United States Air Force  - Second Lieutenant

Criminal Record: None

Affiliations: MIT; U.S Air Force; [REDACTED]

Status: Active Duty

Station: CLASSIFIED

Research: CLASSIFIED

Degrees in Theoretical Physics and Advanced Mathematics

Recipient of the Macarthur Fellowship “Genius Grant”

Recipient of Air Force Commendation Medal

He stiffened, eying her wearily, and pulled his arm back from her grasp. What would an Air Force officer be doing here? Did Markus know her? Lieutenant Haywood wasn’t in a threat position - her stance was notably nonchalant and relaxed but her gaze was steady, determined, and from what Connor could see, stressed. However, she didn’t appear to be there to apprehend or negotiate with them, which made sense considering that the FBI was leading the case against androids, not the Air Force. Was she here as an ally? Or did the Air Force have its own agenda against them? Some secret research project involving Deviants?

Either way, he was decidedly unnerved by the Lieutenant’s presence, his hand reaching to his side in case he needed access to the gun still resting in his belt. She followed at his move with her eyes, taking notice. However, she made no move to stop him or counteract his actions. She only crossed her arms, taking another drag from her dwindling cigarette.

She sighed, opened her mouth, and spoke, not bothering with pleasantries before getting to business. “Don’t forget to disable any security cameras before you get into a fight. Also, you probably want to remove your jacket when you get past the elevator.” She paused for a moment, eyes moving to the side as she stopped to think, dropping her finished cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her boot. “Don’t ask why; you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” When her eyes met his again, they were noticeably more solemn than moments before. “How much do you know about Hank’s son, by the way?”

In an instant, Connor took two surprised steps back and pinned her with a glare that could burn holes through concrete. “What are you talking about? How do you know about Lieutenant Anderson? Have you been following me? What do you want?” Connor rushed through the words without giving her any time to answer any of them - his interrogation protocols forgotten in a burning rush of defensiveness over his friend. His chest felt tight, and his thirium pump picked up speed against his will. He didn’t like this.

Lieutenant Haywood looked away from him again, and Connor picked up her heartbeat speeding up as well. When her eyes re-focused, her face was softer, and he couldn’t recognize the expression on her face. It was similar to the way Lieutenant Anderson looked at him or Sumo, but, also not at all the same. When she spoke again, her words were quiet - and deadly serious. “I want you to live, Connor. Believe it or not what I’m saying is important.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes, huffing in frustration. “His name is Cole Anderson. You can look him up if you feel like making it out of that warehouse alive.” She shook her head. “I’ll talk to you when you meet back up with us. There are some things we need to go over.” She met his gaze one last time and gave him an echo of a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “Good luck.”

And then the stranger who knew far too much left him with a weak wave goodbye, turned, and walked away, beginning a new conversation with Markus - who actually seemed to know who she was, and was obviously comfortable with her presence. He would certainly talk to her after he finished his mission, providing he was able to and not… incapacitated. Even if it was only to find out what on Earth she was doing among the android resistance, and what she had been talking about (although Connor retained the possibility she was either a lunatic or a spy).

He decided to run a background check on Cole Anderson.

Better to be safe than sorry, even if her warnings made no sense.

And Liana continued speaking to Markus - explaining that she’d be on a rooftop nearby to feed them information - but still she watched Connor walk away, hope blooming in her chest.

Maybe he wouldn’t fucking die this time.

[zee-cupcakes-personal-blog]

Present Mic x Reader: Minor Key 2

Backlash 1 / Repeat 2 / Refrain 3 / Skip Back 4 / Pause 5 / Caesura 6 /Intermission /

(Reach Out) Major Key 1 / Major Key 2 / Encore (Coming Soon)

(Stay Away) Minor Key 1/ (Minor Key 2 )/ Aftershow (Coming Soon)

***WARNING! This chapter contains violent acts of violence, mental abuse, and coercion. If this is something you can’t swallow; I highly recommend skipping this chapter. Thank you for reading.***

    You shot Hizashi a text when you got home. It was nearly four-thirty and you had to be at work at five for Saturday rush hour. Probably the best shift as far as wages went- but a shift that was in no way pain-less… Hm. You’d have to call your job and let them know you could be a few minutes late… But you couldn’t put your phone down from texting Hizashi.

      From: Hizashi

“Babe.”

“Sweety.”

“Honey.”

“Darling.”

“Apple of my eye.”

“Forget about going home tonight, just come straight over.”

“I’m making up for last night!”

       You wouldn’t lie and say you weren’t curious—but that meant you had to pack things- clothing. Your toothbrush, any facial cosmetics you could carry… Your mind wandered, pushing away things you’d need to pick up discreetly as you ambled up the stairs to your apartment.

      How late was the drug store open on a Saturday? You couldn’t remember, but maybe it would be wise to-

      You paused at your door.

      It was open.

      Or, rather, it was unlocked. You could tell by the way the keyhole was turned. Could it have been possible you had… Just forgotten? No. You remember very distinctly locking the door before you left… And the only other people who had extra keys were your mother and Hizashi himself.

      To: Hizashi

“Hey, you wouldn’t have happened to have stopped by my place would you?”

      From: Hizashi

“What? No… Y?”

 Ooooh this was bad.

      Without thinking, or responding you ran through the open door and looked around.

      “Oh hey!” a voice chirped from your counter- he had long black hair and a slightly babyish face. “I was wonderin’ when you’d show up!”

      Your years of vigilante experience have taught you that the typical questions a normal person would have asked in that moment were useless. You spent no time at all before you carefully accessed the situation and threw a heavy phone-book from beside your door at the stranger.

      The stranger’s entire body- clothing and all- shifted and bent around the book in a goldish rush. “Okay, actions speak louder than words! I like that!”

      “Get out of my apartment!” you demanded the person in your room. Who was he? Another vigilante? A villain? A hero? No he couldn’t have been a hero… And what’s worse is that his Japanese was… Not bad, per se, but it was definitely not his first language.

    “Then let’s take this outside.”

      You felt the force of your legs slip out from underneath you as a rush of heavy liquid pushed you off your feet and back out onto the apartment walkway; all the way back against the rails where the amorphous blob pinned you before a decidedly human face formed from it.

      “Hi. You are coming with me and we’re going to have a niiiice little chat and-“

      You punched it.

      “SON OF A—“

      You grabbed what little bit of his nose you could and jerked his head to the side- watching as his face moved seamlessly across the expanse of his body(?). You tried to make sense of the strange quirk this man had. It appeared he could make his body turn into this pliable metallic alloy at will.

      And he did- faster than you could scream a semi-liquid hand cupped your mouth shut as you tried to scream fruitlessly into it.

      “Oh… You BETTER be worth all this trouble you’re giving me after that,” you heard his faceless, formless body utter as the rest of him took hold of you.

      He felt like a thousand warm hands touching you at once- seeping into your clothing, across your skin as he settled out around you.

      “Now… Listen to me,” you heard a voice say-quietly, as you felt more of him sneak up your neck. “I’m going to let go of your mouth… You’re not going to scream. You’re not going to talk or call for help… In fact—“

      Your legs moved- not on their own. It felt like he used his body more so to forcibly move you into your apartment. You tried to turn your head to see what he was doing, but the moment you were able to hear the glass shattering; you knew your foot had stomped on his target. Your phone.

      “Good,” he said, satisfied as he turned you around and walked you out of your apartment. He didn’t even close the door behind you as you walked down- seemingly alone. Just as if it was a normal day.

      You struggled every bit of the way as feet became blocks, blocks became kilometers. You tried desperately to move any portion of your body that you could- but every inch of you from the neck down was covered by your attacker- heavy, dense fluid stopping your resistance with ease as you moved effortlessly through backstreets and uncrowded sections of sidewalk.

      He finally stopped at a location- a park.

      “Almost there…” he said to you as you walked around the kills of green, and into a thicket nearly dense enough to be not traversable… but it wasn’t. In fact, multiple foreigners seemed to be gathered there.

      “So the hunt went well, then?” a woman with her face obscured by a mask spoke. She tilted her smooth-plate mask at you and hummed. “… Just like you asked?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

      “Yeah. Not letting go until there’s been a wipe.”

      The woman let out a sigh of annoyance and pushed her mask back. She peered directly into your eyes before shoving a palm over your face. “Everything?” she asked again.

      “Everything that made them stop wanting to be a vigilante.”

      Pain welled in your chest.

     You had no idea if this would painful on a physical level or not… But you knew- this was going to hurt.

         Hizashi was sitting in the police department, hand clenched into a fist as he tried to make sense of this all.

      “So…” the policeman in front of him asked. “You had no idea about their vigilantism?” he asked.

      What could he do?...

      “No,” he lied. “… No. Aizawa said it last night… I didn’t believe him first.” He was such a gullible fool.

      “Mm,” the policeman said with a tone of disbelief. “… So, as per the regulations- you were intimate with a vigilante. Unknowingly or not; that’s three months suspension of your hero license mister Yamada.”

      Hizashi nodded. “… That’s probably for the best,” he agreed. “I’m… Sorry for the trouble.”

      The Policeman let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t feel sorry. This is my job,” he said, now his expression softened. “… I’m sorry. For what’s happened… You didn’t deserve this.”

      Hizashi said nothing.

      “… Mister Aizawa has agreed to take you home,” the policeman said, standing up. “He’s… He’s been waiting for the past hour.”

      Hizashi nodded, standing. When he finally left the room the first thing he saw was Eraser, eyes wide and full of worry, sympathy and… Genuine sadness.

      And all Hizashi could do was scowl.

      “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he seethed. “You were right. As usual.”

    Eraser held up his hands. “Yamada I-“

      “Oh don’t ‘Yamada’ me,” Hizashi seethed back. “Why don’t you just… I don’t know. Go call your girlfriend or something?” Hizashi was in near tears, and wisely shut up after that, storming out alone of the station, leaving Eraserhead behind him.

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 4 Secret Agent Man

***No hidden scenes this week, but....I think you'll enjoy the comedy of this chapter, even if it ends on a bit of a...sour note? ~Let’s Connect! FFC

Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes.  Tagged Chapter Directory***

Cerise had spent the next few days catching up on her favorite telenovela. She couldn’t understand a word they were saying, but she enjoyed it nonetheless, imagining it was a bit like being addicted to crack…except not really. Rarely did she see Vanderwood beyond when he would bring her something to eat, but he would never stay. Cerise had tried inviting him a few times to play a game or watch a movie or just something, but to no avail. It was getting to the point where Cerise was beginning to crave real actual social interaction with actual people, and she felt like she was going to go stir crazy in that room when the evening of the fourth day rolled around. “Hey!” She called out, seemingly talking to a door, if there’d been an onlooker. “Vanderwoooood!” Now she knocked on the door, waiting for a response from him.

The knock and call for him had his heart doing that stupid flip thing again. He’d been trying to keep his distance, as much as he wanted to join her for a game or a movie, it just wasn’t a good idea, not with the way his heart jumped when she talked to him. Mostly, he’d kept to himself, going through intel reports on Jessica and Drawl to brush up on their habits and fighting styles, doing some minor paperwork, and making sure to check in with boss that he’d officially been given the counter-hit job. Of course, only he and Seven knew about Cerise. It wasn’t good to involve a civilian where the agency was concerned. It was really fortunate in this case that Drawl and Jessica had a personal vendetta against him. Vanderwood was planning on killing the two, whether he’d gotten the counter-hit or not anyway, simply because that’s what it would take to keep Cerise safe.

He went to the door, internally groaning at himself and his reactions to her before responding, just another person seemingly talking to a door. “What’s wrong Cerise? Do you need something?” She typically left him alone other than when he brought food, so it was possible something was amiss. The thought wasn’t a comforting one. Vanderwood opened the door for her, eyes quickly sweeping her room for anything, but everything seemed the same, nothing out of place except the beautiful and very petite woman standing there.

Cerise was just happy that he’d come to the door. Not that she’d been expecting him to ignore her or anything. He seemed to be scanning the place over for any trouble, but the only real trouble was that she was so bored. Cerise put on the most pitiful look she could manage and tugged at his shirt. “Yeah…” She started, making sure to sound the part too, so far so good. “I’m really lonely and bored…will you please let me out? I wanna go do something fun.” Cerise wasn’t sure he would fall for her dramatics, but it was certainly worth a try. All for the good of her sanity! She wasn’t above a little trickery.

Vanderwood was…Lord, he was choking on air. It took all of his concentration just to figure out how to talk again with a puppy dog look like that staring up at him. How was he supposed to respond to a look like that, and her tugging on his shirt? What even were words? How even did you use them? He internally slapped some sense into himself, biting his tongue. It simply wasn’t a good idea for her or even him to go out right now, in fact, they should be limiting their contact with other human beings as much as possible. Anyone who saw their faces was at risk of leading Jessica and Drawl right to them, and if they were caught on anyone else’s cameras and posted to the internet, hello facial recognition software and geotags.

She was lucky he was even letting her be on social media, but then again, it was best if no one in her life thought anything was going on and tried to find her at her apartment. By now, it would have been cleaned of any evidence of a struggle, and his blood on the floor, but it would still be a major problem if she had any visitors. Damn…he needed to give her a good answer, puppy dog eyes and all. Vanderwood sighed and leaned his arm against the doorframe. If only they could watch a movie or do something together. Even the thought was overstepping bounds. “I’m sorry, but it’s going to be a while before I let you out. Can’t you find something else to do? Instafram some selfies or something?” Vanderwood didn’t really know what he was talking about. Social media wasn’t something he used personally, especially the picture services.

“A while?” Now she was really pouting, and that really wasn’t good for his heart. “How long is a while? There’s only so much I can post or take selfies about how bored I am before my followers get bored too, ya know?” Cerise sighed and let go of his shirt, still looking up at him. “There’s nothing interesting to do in a hotel room.” I can think of a few things. His internal response was very much an unwanted thought.

Vanderwood just looked at her for a moment before he could find some sort of proper response. “A while is a while. I’m preparing to do a hit, you know. I can’t have our position compromised before I want it to be.” Honesty, as uncomfortable as it was, was what she needed to hear, and what he’d promised himself to give her to make keeping her trust easier, and maybe even hopefully scare her away from him. “Until they’re dead, the likelihood of me taking you out to do anything is pretty slim.” He realized his oversight a little too late, mentally griping at himself that even afterwards he wouldn’t be taking her out to do anything. That wrenched a little at his heart, but he shook his head and pushed off from the door frame. “Start learning another language, or find a game on your phone. I have intel to go through.”

Cerise huffed, clutching her phone in her hand. If he was going to be difficult about it, so was she. It wasn’t like she was asking much, just to wander around the hotel or something. Anything was better at this point than being stuck between the same four walls. When he pushed off from the door frame, she saw her chance. Now she ducked under him and crossed into his room, planting herself on the floor, looking up at him with her arms crossed. By the look of things, all of his work was in here, so it wasn’t like he could just leave. “Guess I’ll just have to hang out here, then.”

God fucking damn it. Her entering his room, well, that was exactly the opposite of what he needed. It was frustrating enough the way he reacted to her whenever he brought her food, even in the simplest of conversation his heart going wild, but now she was in his room. It wasn’t good for him, especially with as long as it had been since his last fix and how irritated he was. That thought didn’t help him any either, because it just made him feel guilty, which irritated him more. Vanderwood had a few choices, pick her up and place her back in her room, potentially making it worse or dissipating what trust they did have between each other, or just dealing with it.

The latter was probably the better option. He was somehow on the road to a recovery thanks to her, not even thinking about grabbing a cigarette anymore. Maybe if he clung to the thought of her long enough he’d be able to kick his bad habits completely. No, probably not. Somehow, he had a feeling that when she went back to her old life, his old life would seem that much more fascinating. Vanderwood closed the door before walking past her to sit on his bed. She was so fucking cute when she was being obstinate, and it honestly made him feel a little angry, certainly tense. He wasn’t angry at her, though, just his own reactions to her. Just don’t touch her, whatever you do. “Find something on the TV then.” At least if she was watching TV, they wouldn’t have to talk much.

Seriously? She was blinking at him in confusion now, tilting her head a bit. Cerise had expected much more protesting from him. Was she disappointed or relieved? At least arguing with him would be something to do. The remote was on the nightstand, seemingly untouched. Did this man not watch TV…? Cerise stood up to retrieve it and then took a place on the floor, at the foot of the bed so it was easier to see the television and have something to lean against.

Shortly after turning on the TV, she found exactly what she wanted to watch. It was a show about a handsome player doctor, a pretty smokin’ lady janitor, and their romance despite all the protests from their families…or at least she thought that was what it was about. Cerise honestly had no idea what anyone was saying, but she watched intently as what appeared to be a cat fight between two women played out on the screen. Even though she was stuck watching TV again, she took comfort in the fact that she wasn’t completely alone.

He’d raised an eyebrow at her show choice, but wasn’t saying anything. Did she even speak Spanish? She was watching the show rather intently, so he couldn’t be entirely sure. It wouldn’t be completely surprising if she did, considering she at least spoke Korean and French. Surely, she could speak another language. Vanderwood snorted softly as the doctor character accidentally called the maid fat. Why was he actually getting into this? He stretched and laid across his bed, Cerise right in front of him at the foot of it. Well, he shouldn’t have done that, but it did feel better for his back. Vanderwood broke the silence out of curiosity, having noticed that she didn’t react to the ‘fat maid’ thing at all. “Do you even know what they’re saying?”

She took her eyes off of the TV and peeked her head over the food of the bed to look at him, not having actually expected him to talk. “Nope!” Cerise now laughed a little, realizing how silly it sounded to watch something she didn’t understand, but hey. A guilty pleasure was a guilty pleasure. “…Do you?” He had snorted at something, probably something to do with the show, unless he was having an interesting conversation in his head.

“Maybe about half of what they’re saying…yeah.” Her laugh had his heart twisting. Why was she so perfect? This one girl was the only one who’d ever made him feel this way. Vanderwood bit his tongue before he explained what little he’d gleaned from the show so far. “The doctor guy accidentally called the maid lady fat, who it turns out is pregnant. That other lady is the doctor’s wife, and the maid just told her about the baby.” Really these shows were incredibly dramatic, and he wasn’t sure he understood why anyone would watch it, whether they understood Spanish or not.

The way Cerise was now looking between him and the TV had him starting to translate what the maid was saying next, but then his face filled with color and he just wasn’t able to finish the sentence. “So, she’s telling the wife all about…nevermind.” Cerise frowned at him. “All about what?” Now she was turning to look towards the TV again and try to guess at it. Whatever the maid was telling the wife, she looked really upset and offended. He had begun to tell her and now she was just dying to know, but it looked like he wasn’t talking.

Wait…was…was he not telling her on purpose? Because she forced her way into his room? She hadn’t seen his massive blush thanks to the TV screen, but Cerise pouted again and climbed up to plant herself beside him now, prodding at him with her pointer finger. “Heeey, Vanderwood, you meanie. Tell me!” Jesus Christ. That made him tense up. What the maid had described was bad enough on its own, but having to tell her with her right next to him?���Could he even control his own mind from slipping to thinking about Cerise doing?…Nope. He mentally slapped himself and bit down on his tongue. Maybe he did need a cig…and a hooker…like he needed air. This was far too much for him. Cerise wasn’t going to stop unless he gave her something, so he tried to get his words worked around enough that he didn’t have to directly translate it. “Alright…so…she described….rather specifically…how that baby was conceived.” That wasn’t too direct, and she’d get the picture probably, or so he hoped. Now he scooted a little away from her, but the bed was only so big.

“Oh!” Cerise said it like the entire world suddenly made sense to her. “So that’s why the wife is so mad.” Now she nodded, pleased with his answer, but not moving from her spot. “You know, I didn’t even know until just now that that was even his wife.” She paused as she watched the TV, one woman slapping the other, causing Cerise to unconsciously wince. “I just…kinda figured she was some salty lady who liked him too. Now the jealousy makes sense.”

Vanderwood snorted softly. “Yeah…things tend to make shit ton of sense when you speak the language of the show you’re watching.” So that was a little douchey of a response, but he was rather a douchey guy most of the time. There was something oddly intimate about watching a ridiculous telenovela with her, and it wasn’t helping him with how tense he felt at all. Now he pushed out of bed to stretch. Maybe exercising would relieve him a little bit. “I’m going to work out for a bit, if you want to go back to your room.” Out of habit, he’d started to pull off his shirt before thinking better of it, noticing the way her eyes widened. He’d at least let her decide whether she wanted to leave first.

Her response was quick, moving to make a grab for a pillow and hanging onto it. “And suffer eternal loneliness again? Never.” She had finally achieved some sort of extended human interaction after what seemed like forever, so she might as well make herself comfortable, because she didn’t plan on moving. Vanderwood returned to taking off his shirt again then, and Cerise’s eyes only continued to widen. Was he really taking his shirt off…right now? Oh no….Don’t say something stupid, don’t say something stupid. “Besides, I think I found a more interesting show.” Her sing song voice didn’t give away the internal screaming as she berated herself. Dammit, Cerise, you had one job!

Fuck. He was too busy internally dying to notice that she was too, as his face lit up with blush again. Vanderwood had literally never blushed around any woman before her. Hell, even in high school when he’d gotten kissed by a classmate, nothing. He groaned at himself internally before he tossed his shirt towards his bag, turning his back to her and stretching for the ceiling, revealing his half demon, half angel wing tattoo, the exit wound scar from the bullet he’d taken for Seven marring a few feathers on the right side.

Cerise felt like her brain had just stopped functioning, and she pretty much lost all interest in whatever was going on on the television. He was really muscular, which made sense considering his line of work. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she just kept looking. It was impossible to tear away her gaze really, now noting the various scars he had, which again wasn’t so surprising. Cerise almost wanted to ask how he’d gotten them, but she didn’t think he’d answer her even if she asked.

Was it rude to keep staring? Probably…but she just couldn’t help it! While his back was turned, she snapped a picture, making sure to zoom in slightly to get a good shot of his tattoo. Vanderwood didn’t notice, thinking it was easy enough to reach the ceiling, being as tall as he was in a country that was mostly built for shorter people. Unfortunately, it wasn’t like Seven’s house where he had installed the bar hanging from his ceiling to use for pullups and sit-ups. On the road, he had to do everything on the floor. If there was one thing he missed while on the road, it was that bar. Now, he got on the ground and started doing sit-ups, trying to pretend that a beautiful woman wasn’t watching him.

She fumbled a little with her phone when he went to do sit-ups, hiding that she had just taken a picture of him. It was almost too much now, and she had to bury her head in the pillow she was holding, otherwise he was going to notice how red she was. Probably red enough to put a tomato to shame. Vanderwood was just happy that she wasn’t watching him anymore. Yet, he found that strangely disappointing too. He finished up his sit-ups and switched to push-ups, first both arms and then one handed, needing to do the full reps on each hand. Had he caught a glimpse of her blushing as she nuzzled more into that pillow? She certainly seemed interested in that thing. Did it smell like him? That was a weird thought to have. What kind of a weirdo thought like that? Or was that normal for people who had crushes? Shit fuck. Best not to dwell on the fact that he had a crush…or whatever.

Now Cerise peeked out over the pillow. He was still going at it. She at least admired his dedication to keep his body in shape even while they were stuck in a hotel. Cerise probably wasn’t doing herself any favors by hiding in the pillow...In fact, she was probably being all the more obvious. This was definitely a lot better than being trapped in her room though…Her eyes flickered to where he was again. Yep, definitely a lot better. She couldn’t help but to…take another picture. Her hands moved automatically like it was the most natural thing in the world for her as she quickly, and not so inconspicuously, took another picture of him.

Had she just? Vanderwood stopped and just stared for a moment. Of course she had. He groaned, and sat up, giving her a look. “Didn’t I ask you to stop taking pictures of me?” Vanderwood had only just started to feel better, and now he was irritated again, pushing off the floor to make a grab for her phone. Cerise squeaked and fell backwards when he reached for her phone. Her first instinct was to smack him in the face with the pillow she had been holding, which promptly fell to the floor as soon as she chucked it, but she made sure to hold her phone away from him so that he couldn’t grab it.

He ended up crouched on top of her, having swatted the pillow she’d thrown at him away. Now he’d managed to grab the phone as well as her hand, but then he looked down at her face which was literally only inches from his. Vanderwood’s face heated up quickly, and he let go of her, sitting back on his haunches and holding his hands up like she was pointing a gun at him. The gun, was just how damn attractive she was to him. What the Hell? He dropped his hands and sighed. “Can you please not?”

It took a second for Cerise to recover. He had been so close. Now she sat up and looked at him. Somehow, he looked annoyed, but he was still…blushing…No matter how harshly her brain told her not to, she leaned forward towards him. She was sure her face was red too, but this was just too perfect of a moment. “Not what?” Cerise all but purred, dangerously close to him now. “This?” She waited until she was basically right up on him to take another picture while his blush seemed to be at its maximum. Payback for not letting her out of her room for all that time.

Fucking Hell. It was taking everything in him not to just grab her and kiss her right then, particularly after she took that picture. Of course, then it would have been out of anger, the need for a fix. Wait…would it have not been that way before the photo? All he knew right now was that he couldn’t have Cerise playing around in his room anymore. He took a deep breath before he stood, picking her up over his shoulder and taking her to the door.

Cerise didn’t have time to respond before she was slung over his shoulder. “Hey!” She protested and struggled a bit before he opened her door and set her down. He was quick to close and lock the door then, talking to her through it. “Have a good night, Cerise. Dinner will be soon.” She was probably all sorts of upset with him, which hurt a bit. He just couldn’t be around her right now, not with what he was wanting to do. Vanderwood could hear her complaints through the door. “Vanderwood, you meanie! It’s only six pm!”

She knew that he could hear her, but he wasn’t responding. It wasn’t like she had been asking to roam the city or anything. Now she tried knocking, no answer still. “Ugh.” Cerise huffed and sat on the bed, hugging one of her own pillows as an idea dawned on her. If he was going to be like this, she was going to make his life Hell until he decided to finally let her out. “Let’s see how long you can handle…this!” She pulled up a song on a music app and set it to repeat on the loudest volume setting, putting it by the door. “I hope you like this song, hon~” Cerise laughed, making sure he would be able to hear it through the door. “Oh, who am I kidding, of course you would!’ And that marked the start of a three-hour loop of the song Secret Agent Man.

He ignored her at first, chuckling a little at how cute she was and then grumbling at himself for thinking that. After a few rounds of the song, he was starting to get irritated. Then the first hour passed, and he tried working out again, but that didn’t help. Next, he attempted to listen to music with his earbuds in for the second hour, but that wasn’t working, because now he could still hear the song in his head. Finally, the third hour rolled around, and he unlocked the door, opening it and pointing towards the door to the hotel hallway. “Turn that God damn music off, and you can leave. Please leave.”

Cerise had heard him shuffling around and walked over to the door. Was he finally unlocking it? Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw his figure appear in the doorway, looking incredibly irritated, his eyebrow twitching like crazy. She did feel a little bad, but she’d won her freedom fair and square, mostly. He didn’t have to tell her twice before she scooped up her phone and left out the door with a song songy “See ya, Vandy!” Cerise didn’t trust herself or anyone around enough to actually leave the hotel, but there was a bar attached. Maybe she could go and meander around there? She certainly wasn’t going to that horrible diner restaurant again. It didn’t take her long to find the bar, the ‘bouncer’ seeming to have dozed off, allowing her to easily get in. Much to her delight, the place was lively. This would do well in curing her boredom for now.

It hadn’t taken long before she got multiple requests to buy her a drink, which she rejected. She wasn’t dumb enough to accept a drink from any random person in there. She wandered around the bar area, honey gold eyes sweeping the place. There were men and women everywhere of all shapes and sizes, the rug a slightly different pattern than the one on the floor of the hotel, and the lights much dimmer. It wasn’t a dance bar by any means, which was a little sad, but she didn’t have her dance pants anyway, and she wasn’t about to allow for any accidental up-skirt pictures. The bar itself was your standard type, a hardwood bar top and the typical barstools. There were tables with chairs all around the place too, but for now, she was staying away from that in favor of the bartender who was calling her over to have a seat at the bar.

“I’ll make you something on the house, if you promise not to tell my boss, that is.” He seemed nice enough, and at least she could watch him make the drink too. Cerise gave him her signature wink. “I won’t tell if you don’t!” It was always best not to accept drinks from sleazy guys unless they were buying it for you right at the bar, and it went straight into your own hands. She kept a close eye on him, making sure he wasn’t doing anything fishy. He was decent looking enough and deserved something for his efforts in wooing her, right? “So, are you here with anyone?” The light flirting she was giving him was of course making it easier for him to bring up conversation, and she didn’t falter in coming up with the backstory Vanderwood had given her. “Just a family friend, showing me around Korea. I’ve been in France and only just got back.”

He nodded, and she noted the way his smile seemed to get a little bigger. So, he probably thought he was getting somewhere. Cerise was really only being polite, but she did enjoy the attention, at least when her lack of filter wasn’t making her internally scream. As he handed the drink to her, he was about to ask her for her number, but instead his eyes grew wide as this tiny woman downed the drink with seemingly no effort. Cerise uttered a thanks and was off again, taking in the scenery of the place a little more, the mass of plants that seemed to get thicker and more…foresty, the deeper she walked into the place.

Weaving through the crowd of people, she came across this rather large and burly man who was loudly boasting that nobody would be able to out drink him. Well…they’d see about that, wouldn’t they? “Excuse me?” Cerise approached him with a smile, and the crowd around him stilled from grumbles to incredulous whispers. “I’d like to challenge you.” Instantly the man, along with his buddies, began laughing, obviously thinking that she was joking, causing her to pout. “I’m serious, you know!” Cerise stared the man down, a fierce look in her eyes that actually made him, as well as his buddies, quiet down.

The biker gulped a little. Damn, this tiny lady had a lot of fire in her. He motioned for her to sit down. “Okay, girly. But if I win…” He thought about it for a moment before a chuckle escaped him. “If I win, you have to go on a date with me.” Now it was Cerise’s turn to laugh. “You won’t win though. When I win, you have to buy everyone here a drink.” The man had a twinkle in his eyes, his rosy red cheeks not indicative of blushing, but he had the cash and now the crowd was excited for this little gal to win more than for him. Well then. A good challenge indeed.

For a few minutes, Vanderwood had just lied in bed, praising, for once, whatever God existed for mercy once the song stopped playing in his head. How long had he even been lying there? That’s when he realized what he’d done. He’d let Cerise out without him. Cerise who had a target on her back thanks to him. Cerise who might have been grabbed by a pimp in this very hotel if it wasn’t for him. This was not okay. Vanderwood was immediately panicking, far more than he usually would when he’d made a mistake.  He had to find her quickly and make sure she was safe.

As he left the hotel room, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Vanderwood had promised to protect her, and he meant to, no matter how confusing his feelings were for her or how much she annoyed the crap out of him. She didn’t deserve to get hurt just because he was an ass. Granted, her little game had been…still, he shouldn’t have fallen for it. He was supposed to be keeping her safe.

Vanderwood made his way down the stairs of the hotel, trying to gauge where she would go. Hopefully she was still in the hotel. Since she’d mentioned earlier that she didn’t want to leave it, there was a good chance. He figured that she wouldn’t go to the restaurant again, but the only other thing this hotel had was…the bar. The bar. His heart stilled. She could get into a Hell of a lot of trouble in a bar. He was quick to find it, slipping past the ‘bouncer’ and curling his lip in disgust at the sleeping form. What a useless prick, sleeping on the job. Now his eyes scanned the bar area, hard to do thanks to the swathe of other bodies.

Apparently, it was more difficult to find a peach-haired petite shorty in the crowd than he had anticipated. As long as she was here and not out of the hotel…She had to be here. Panic was making his heart race and his body feel colder the more he had to search. Cerise made it so hard for him to think, and it made all the sense in the world to him why you weren’t allowed to be attached to people in the agency. He needed to stop and breathe. A slow and deep breath was hard to take in the midst of panic, but he managed, and once he had, it was much easier to scan the room. That’s when he heard her voice over a throng of people and laughter as he made his way into the more foliaged area of the bar. ‘I’m serious, you know!’

What was she doing? Vanderwood had to push through a crowd of people to finally see her…challenging a man who looked like he was from a biker gang to a drinking match. He was there in a flash, his hand on her shoulder. “We are going back upstairs. Now.” His eyebrow was twitching up a storm and he gave everyone a look, his normally bright brown eyes dark and dangerous as they met the eyes of the burly man who had stood as though to start something with him, the look causing the man to slowly sit back down.

Cerise had jumped at the hand on her shoulder and now turned to look up at him. “Vanderwood?” She thought she had irritated him enough to at least give her a few hours out. Vanderwood wasn’t really paying attention to her as he swept Cerise over his shoulder as effortlessly as he had in the hotel room, taking her out of the bar. Cerise protested, struggling against him to no avail “Hey! This isn’t fair, you said I could go out!” She stopped struggling when she realized it was getting her nowhere and just groaned the entire time until he finally placed her on her feet again once they reached the stairs.

Vanderwood was the first to speak, his voice rather grim and dark. “I’ll take you somewhere tomorrow. Just. No. Bars.” Everything in him felt tight and angry. How could he have made a mistake like that? He didn’t even want to think about what a bunch of drunk men could have done to her. That had him thinking what he wanted to do to her. Now he was just disgusted with himself in every way a person could imagine. He needed a fuck, and he needed it bad, or he was going to go insane, but he wasn’t going to make it her. Cerise was just glowering at him, feeling mildly irritated herself. The promise of going somewhere the next day hadn’t even seemed to help. He’d begun to start up the stairs, but she was now running up ahead of him, a few steps above him, putting them at eye level. “You know, I could have taken that guy.”

His eyebrow twitched and he bit at his tongue, a sharp and angry inhale before he started to gripe at her, like he’d done on many an occasion with Seven and Caleb, the very few. “And tell me, Cerise, what exactly would you have done when he and his drunk friends decided they wanted to take you home? What would you have done if one of those drunkards decided he wanted to find out what you look like naked?” He lived in a world of scumbags, sociopaths, and murderers. At least two of those categories included himself. Vanderwood was absolutely pissed at himself, and now the flood gates of anger had opened.

It was far too easy to pick her up and press her against the wall. “You cannot tell me, that you can take them, that you would have been fine on your own.” He’d been trying to make a point about her physical strength in comparison to his and to those men, but…even the look of surprise on her face didn’t register for him now. Her face was so close, and he was so done. Vanderwood kissed her hard, the unrelenting and emotionless kind he was used to, not even in control of what he was doing, but just searching for relief.

God fucking damn it. No. No, no no. Guilt and shame flooded him like a dam had broken, and he felt sick to his stomach. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. It took him a moment still before he could break away, and that only made it worse. Now he was just stuck staring at her in disbelief. What had he done? He’d treated her like one of his whores and it felt like his heart was actually collapsing in on itself. She deserved so much more than that, so much more than him. He loved her too much to want that for her. Love? What was even happening right now?

Cerise hadn’t let her glare falter except for just a brief moment of surprise when he’d picked her up. She was pissed, and it only got worse from there. His kiss sent an entire shock through her system that her brain couldn’t quite catch up with. He hadn’t been gentle at all…Was he trying to teach her a lesson? About how easy it would be for someone to just take what they wanted from her? What a shitty way to demonstrate. And now he was just staring at her? What did he want her to say? ‘Oh, you have a point, I see the error of my ways now, please lock me back up?’ When she was finally out of her confused daze, she frowned, speaking in a calm voice, despite how angry she was. “Take me back to my room. Now.” She would have just gone herself, but he was the one with the key card.

Vanderwood didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. He just put her down, walking silently to the room and letting her in. Everything was crushing in on him. More than anything, he wanted to apologize, tell her he hadn’t meant for that to happen, that she deserved better. The words wouldn’t come, and besides that, he needed to get away from her for now, relax, get himself under control, if he even could. Any trust she’d had for him was probably gone now. He realized that he was staring at her closed door. She’d slammed it as she went into the room.

Cerise was curled up hugging the fluffiest pillow she could find, her head buried in it. She felt like she wanted to cry, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to. “What made him think that was okay…” Now she mumbled to herself before flopping onto her back and picking up her phone, trying to occupy herself. She found that even that wasn’t making her feel any better. Sighing, she brought her fingers to her lips…That had been the first time she’d ever been kissed…and it had been wasted on some stupid lesson. “Jerk…”

After he’d finally bothered to enter his own room, Vanderwood just sat on the ground, placing his back against her door. Why couldn’t he control himself? Even with her. She was the most wonderful thing he’d had in his life for years. Cerise made him feel more than he had in years. He’d known he hadn’t had a chance with her, shouldn’t even have thought of the option, knowing what he did of himself. He simply didn’t deserve her and couldn’t have her, but it still hurt beyond reason that he had hurt her. How many hours passed? Maybe it was just minutes? Vanderwood took off his leather gloves, gently tracing the crisscrossing scars along his hand. “Cerise…?” His voice sounded foreign to him after so much silence, but he had to apologize for what he’d done.

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Roommates - Derek Hale imagine

Room mates

Requested by @julieanncupcake

imagine with Derek and y/n liking each other but they don't know it.

I'm sorry it's quite a short one but if you enjoyed it I'll do a part 2.

Warnings: Angry Derek but other than that not really just lots of fluff and cuteness

Note: I'm really new to this so sorry if it's not how you wanted it, I tried 💕

Y/N POV "Good morning" I sing while running down the stairs of mine and my roommates small apartment, running late as usual for my job at a cafe.

"Morning" Derek smiles back with his usual cheerful laugh, his forest green eyes glistening in the morning sunshine, I notice today his stubble is more noticeable Derek always look sexier with a beard "breakfast?!" Derek snaps me out of my thoughts, was I staring? "N-no thank you I'm kinda running late I've got 10 minutes till my shift starts" he nods and his face drops "thank you for the offer though I would have if my boss wasn't such a jerk" I apologised, he looked up at me causing butterflies in my stomach to erupt 'how could a human being look so much like a angel he was beautiful'

"oh is she one of those really strict bosses" he inquired suspiciously "yes, well no he's a he but he's very strict" I replied. "I'll drop you off" he urges after a few thoughtful seconds, did he pity me, no he's just that kind, I'd met a few of his friends Stiles, the skinny, pale and sarcastic one. Scott the sweet tall mature one and Malia the beautiful, funny and weird one. At first I was jealous of Malia when Derek had introduced me to her although I don't have any right to be jealous as me and Derek are only roommates but I was glad when he mentioned she's his cousin. I remembered how stiles always called Derek a sour wolf, I never understood why he said that I've only ever seen Derek cheerful and kind.

"Are you sure I don't mind catching the bus" I asked, although I enjoyed every second I spent with Derek and prayed for longer moments with him "of course, I'm free all day today" he protested with a shy smile, collecting his car keys and leather jacket while opening the door open for me "ladies first"

he grins with that heart aching smile that made me explode inside. I walk out mouthing a "thank you" as he smiled back, I liked Derek a lot! But I never had the guts to ever mention my feelings towards him, Derek was a straight 10 and I was a 3 on a good day and I didn't want to ruin our friendship.

"Is it okay if I park here? Is it close enough"

" yes! Thank you soo much Derek I'll see you after work" I quickly rush out looking at the time on my wrist "3 minutes late oh no" I mutter to myself running into the cafe.

Derek's POV "Yes! Thank you so much Derek, I'll see you after work" And her beautiful face is gone, I gulp at her sudden disappearance wishing I could spend more time with her, I knew she liked me, every time she saw me her heart beat raced like a sports car, her chemosignals would go crazy with nervousness when I got too close or accidentally made any physical contact with her, but she was so pure and innocent, naïve and kind I couldn't bring myself to admit my feelings for her and risk her being dragged into the supernatural business and getting hurt. As I'm about to drive off I glance over where she was sat and notice her iPhone on the seat. I smile at y/n's clumsiness always forgetting and dropping things, without thinking I grab her phone and run into the small cafe across the street.

I look around the crowded cafe unable to find Y/N, I use my wolf senses and at first only smell the strong coffee until I come across Y/Ns scent also picking up her chemo-signals, she's scared and hurt, anger and frustration overcomes me as I barge past the groups of people trying too find her, until I come across her standing their crying, she doesn't notice me standing there and neither does the male in front of her, his face red with anger

"I-I-I'm so sorry Johnny it won't h-happen again" she sniffled, I feel a pain in my heart at Y/Ns sight so hopeless and scared, as I'm about to walk up to Y/N the man grabs her hand and pushes her, before whatever vile words he was about to say I grab him by his collar and push him against the wall

"if you ever, EVER TOUCH HER AGAIN I WILL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT WITH MY TEETH" "Oh my g- Derek Derek stop it's okay" Y/N quickly comes by my side and tries to calm me down "DONT YOU DARE EVEN LOOK AT MY GIRLFRIEND" I warn him and see the terror in his eyes knowing I've done my job "Derek?" Y/N whimpers and puts a hand gently on my shoulder, I look at her and see her eyes full of tears "let's go please?" I nod gently and releases the terrified man from under my grip and straighten his shirt out as a warning gesture before leaving holding Y/Ns hand.

When we get to the car she's silent but I can tell she's still hurt.

Y/Ns POV When we reach the car I'm lost in my thoughts replaying Derek's words again and again in my mind 'girlfriend'? Did he really call me his girlfriend or was that just something he said in the heat of the moment...

"can I see your hand?" Derek softly asks before reaching his hand out, I nod and he continues to check my hand "did he hurt you? I'm sorry that's a stupid question of course he did. Where did he hurt you?" Derek mumbles trying to calm himself yet the anger still in his voice. " honestly I'm okay it was just a little pu" "Is this his first time? has he done this before? Has he ever tried to touch you in any other way?" He cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, judging by his facial expression I can tell he's uncomfortable at the thought I don't say anything and he slams his hands against the steering wheel causing me to flinch at the impact it had which caused the whole car to vibrate,

" I should go back there and.. and kill him!" Derek growled, id never seen this side of Derek and it was making me scared I shift in my seat and Derek notices as the anger in his face softens to guilt "I-I'm sorry Y/N that you had to see this side of me it's just that I care about you a lot and I feel protective over you and when I saw that idiot hurting you I didn't think I just" he pauses thinking what to say "that's okay Derek I understand you feel protective over me.. I know in only the friend sort of way..." I start to fidget with my hands looking away from Derek as I try to hold back my tears, my emotions getting the best of me. "Hey hey hey no don't cry, please?" He cups my face and faces me towards him, the feeling of him touching me making me feel worse as a reminder that he'll never be mine making me sob even more and suddenly Derek's lips are attached to mine catching me off guard shocked at his sudden action I freeze not knowing what to do but my lips automatically started to kiss back with the same rhythm as Derek's lips, I feel his tongue try to gain access and give him the entrance he was requesting.

seconds later he pulls away his hands still attached to my face and puts his forehead against mine and whispers "I've been wanting to do that for a very long time Y/N" I look up into his eyes and see no hesitance in his eyes at is words "you have?" I gasped and he smiles nodding back at my reaction, I pull away from him and playfully slap his arm "then why didn't you do it sooner I've been waiting for YOU to do that for a very long time too" I laughed, "now, do you want to go get some breakfast?" Derek asks nervously, " are you asking me out Mr. Hale?" I joke "well yes I am Miss. Y/L/N" he mimicks back and smiles at me and in this second I couldn't wish for anything more "I would love too" I smile back at him and he starts to drive with a grin as wide as a highway plastered on his face.

[yourobedientslytherin]

Bonjour, Bitches! {Jefferson x Reader} ~ Part 1

Jefferson x Reader - Modern AU {Tech Company} 

1,552 words

Warnings: none :D 

A/N: Guess who’s baaaaaack!!! So...turns out I can’t write while I have freakin’ homework hanging over my head. Glad we figured that out. The good news is I’m almost on spring break (woooooo), which means I’ll prolly crank out the next parts of this long, long-awaited series in short succession. Really sorry about the time it took to write/post this. Also, I know this probably isn’t as exciting as you hoped, but it’ll get better. Im pinky promise :D 

A/N 2: Also, I didn’t proofread this bc I was so excited to get it posted!! 

Thomas Jefferson, retrieval specialist and hitman, pulled his hair into a ponytail with a sigh. It was supposed to be an easy job—just get the information, plant the virus, and get out. Two weeks tops. But on Day 20 of the job, Jefferson did not find himself lounging in his new mansion in Virginia like he had planned. Instead he was walking to yet another board meeting with Alexander Hamilton, the up-and-coming tech mogul, and his brilliant team of programmers, media consultants, and PR reps.

Hamilton made Jefferson’s blood boil, and not just because Hamilton was Jefferson’s rival in the market of technology. The man was so arrogant and opinionated. Their countless meetings dragged by, simultaneously irritating and boring Jefferson to the point of tears. He disagreed with Hamilton on every major issue involving the company, but Jefferson couldn’t say anything because he was Gilbert Lafayette, at least he had assumed Lafayette’s identity.

Lafayette, Hamilton’s French PR coordinator, had only begun working with Hamilton for two and a half weeks before Jefferson arrived, which wasn’t enough time for Hamilton or the rest of the team to really get a good idea of what his temperament was like. Therefore, Jefferson only had to mimic Lafayette’s knowledge of the project and his appearance, which was strikingly similar. They were both around the same height and had similar dark skin, curly black hair, and sleepy-looking features. Virtually the only difference was that Lafayette pulled his hair into a ponytail while Jefferson preferred to keep his down. Jefferson’s employer had made sure Lafayette was sent back to France to work on another project, and he wasn’t scheduled to return for another month. Any correspondence from Hamilton’s team to Lafayette was sent to Jefferson’s email and/or phone, cutting off Lafayette so he wouldn’t be suspicious and giving Jefferson access to all information concerning the project. His employer had been very thorough when thinking about the details.

Deep in thought, Jefferson walked down the hallway, his long legs carrying him at a quick pace, and rounded the corner to the conference room. He checked his phone, confirming that he still had several minutes before the meeting started.

Suddenly, he felt someone bump into him and heard both a whoosh as papers fell to the floor and a gasp in his ear. He turned, and his body reacted before his mind registered what just happened. He reached out and grabbed your waist as you fell, pulling your back into his front.

Hercules Mulligan picked that exact moment to poke his head out the conference room door. He loudly guffawed, staring at Jefferson intertwined with this poor girl.

Jefferson followed Herc’s gaze to where his hands were, not around your waist as he had originally thought, but around your chest, touching your breast. You quickly wiggled out of his arms with an indignant cry, your face turning as red as your dress.

“What the hell?” you shouted.

“I am so sorry,” he breathed, forgetting his assumed French accent for a moment. “Are you okay?”

You tried to discreetly rub your sore breast; he had quite the grip. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

His deep brown eyes searched your face for a moment. Satisfied that that, and possibly a bruised ego, was the extent of your injuries, he bent down and picked up the papers strewn about your feet. Oh, shit. Did I forget the French accent? he thought.

“My humblest apologies,” he said with the accent, handing you the papers. “I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear you coming.”

“What happened to your accent?” you asked sourly.

He froze. “Que?”

You rolled your eyes. “Forget it. Just watch what you’re doing.”

Jefferson’s eyes followed you as you walked into the conference room, clutching your papers to your chest. His heart sunk a little as he realized that you were the new PR representative Hamilton had hired. You two were going to work together on a lot of projects.

Clenching his jaw, he slipped into Lafayette’s goofy, laid-back persona and walked into the conference room.

“Bonjour, bitches!” he shouted, internally glaring at the group who excitedly acknowledged his presence.

“Hey, Laf!” greeted John Laurens.

“What were you up to just now?” Herc teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Jefferson and you.

The team consisted of Alexander Hamilton, the boss; Hercules Mulligan, media consultant; Laurens, some sort of programmer; Lafayette/Jefferson; and Aaron Burr, financial advisor. You glared at him from your seat next to Burr and rolled your shoulders.

“Laf,” Hamilton said, catching your attention. “This is Y/N. She’s the new PR representative.”

Jefferson nodded curtly at you. “Oui, we have already, how you say, ‘run into’ each other.”

Hamilton missed the tension between the two of you and turned to you. “Y/N, this is Gilbert Lafayette, our French PR representative. You two will become great friends in the next couple of months.”

Your expression ran through surprise, disgust, and irritation in a shockingly short span of time, settling on grim acceptance. You held your hand out to Jefferson.

“Nice to meet you,” you said coldly, your eyes flashing dangerously.

He took your hand, fighting the urge to gasp as your touch literally shocked him. Apparently you felt it too because you quickly withdrew your hand and sat back down.

Jefferson watched you with a confused expression for the length of the meeting, trying to figure out what it was about you that had his mind sprinting a million miles a second. No girl had ever made his body react that way before. He’d definitely dated before, sometimes even girls he met on the job, but they’d always been distant from the mark. No distractions, no mistakes. That was his motto.

“So you just click here, and then again here, and you should be good to go,” the IT guy—Chris? Carl? Cody?—told you, leaning over your shoulder as he guided you through the program.

He was too close to you to be displaying appropriate workplace behavior—you could almost feel his breath on your neck and smell his spicy cologne. Were there any men at this company who would respect your personal space? In the four hours that you’d worked here, a man had already gotten to second base with you and now another one was about ready to blow in your ear.

You gritted your teeth and forced a smile.

“Thanks, I think I got it now,” you told the IT guy, dismissing him.

Flashing you a grin, he left, disappearing into the blackness of the IT caves. You fought a shiver and turned back to your monitor.

“Bonjour!” A man popped up on the other side of your cubicle wall, tentatively smiling at you.

You resisted the urge to scream for a moment’s peace and looked up, cocking an eyebrow. It was the guy from the meeting, the one who grabbed your breast. You hadn’t been able to get a good look at him when you first met, mostly because you had been busy avoiding eye contact with him in the meeting. He had dark curly hair tightly pulled into a ponytail. His neatly trimmed facial hair framed perfect, plump pink lips that parted to reveal a dazzling white smile. His sleepy puppy dog eyes held your gaze confidently despite the awkwardness between the two of you.

Of course he was attractive.

Your mood darkened a little more.

“How can I help you?”

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” he murmured, his voice sounding as sleepy as his eyes looked, like he’d just rolled out of bed. “It was a, how you say, reflex. I was merely trying to save you.”

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek as you tried to decide what to say. If you said it was no big deal, he wouldn’t respect you and he might try something again. If you let him have a piece of your mind, it would make working with him very difficult. You decided to go with a moderate approach.

“Just don’t let it happen again, and we won’t have a problem, mon collégue,” you replied.

“Oh, you speak Français?” he asked, sounding apprehensive instead of delighted.

“Oui, j’ai vécu en France pendant un an.” (Yes, I lived in France for a year.)

“Oh, comme c’est merveilleux.” (Oh, how wonderful.) His expression didn’t match his words. “I also came over here to set up a time to begin speaking and collaborating about that project we are doing together.”

He skillfully changed the subject, you realized, but you let it slide and opened your calendar on your computer.

“Well, so far I have the whole week free, except for a meeting tomorrow morning. Any time works for me.”

“How about after lunch today? I’m sure you have a, how you say, boyfriend, who will eat with you today. To celebrate your employment.”

You shook your head. “No boyfriend. I was just going to go try that sushi place around the corner. I’ve heard good things.”

“Non,” he said emphatically, “that place is no good. There is a little French restaurant two streets from here. I will take you there.”

You hesitate. Two hours ago this guy grabs your boob after he almost knocks you over, and now he’s asking you to lunch? 

“I guess since you got to second base already, you should take me to lunch,” you teased. “I usually make guys take me to dinner first.”

Tagged: 

@inimitabledaveed @living-breathing-bibliophile @theroomwhereithxppens @loqanhowlet @desperatepenguin722

[estherroberts]

going home - part 1

fandom: ars paradoxica

words: 1867

rating: T

characters: esther roberts, various family members, jack wyatt, bridget chambers (mentioned), everyone else in the time gang (mentioned)

summary: esther roberts visits her mother and some memories when she takes a trip to new york in 1945 (takes place right before episode 4, “bullet”)

spoilers for episodes 4 and 13 , read part 2 here 

esther sits on the plane and she can hear her heart pounding in her chest. she isn’t afraid of flying, no, she’s never been afraid of anything. instead, her heart beats with excitement. 

new york is her city. no matter how far she goes, no matter how high she climbs, there is a piece of her waiting in the big apple. she’s not going to think about bridget, oh no. instead, she thinks of her mother, and how in the hell she’ll navigate that conversation. she tries a few replies in her mind, practicing possibilities and dodging difficult questions, but it’s been over a year since she’s spoken to anyone outside polvo and she wouldn’t even know where to begin. esther gives up, and falls asleep for the rest of the flight.

“ESTHER! WHY HAVEN’T YOU RANG!” esther is assaulted by hugs, kisses and nagging the minute she steps in the door. “i did ring! and look!” she waves her arms around, “i’m here now!” “give me your coat! you haven’t been eating enough! sit down! i just got back from the nice deli your father used to go to.” “i’m not hungry,” she laughs, “i ate something when i got off the plane.” all her mom has to do is look at her and she’s complying. “okay, okay! i’m eating, see?” her mother, thankfully, asks no questions about the job. instead, she asks about the food, (yes, they’re feeding me there!) the “nice, jewish boys” (no, i’m there to do science! and that joke’s getting old) the bosses (yes, they’re treating me right!) and of course, the friends (my god! mom, yes, i have friends!) esther, of course, has no right to be indignant about the last question. she’s never been good at… interpersonal relations. sure, she has friends now. but boy, does she know how to utterly destroy every close relationship she’s ever had. she finally manages to take hold of the conversation and asks her mother how things have been in new york. “oh, well, here, the plumbing’s gone wonky and six more floorboards are creaky. sometimes i get letters from your aunts because they never got phone lines, but what can you do?“ “what can you do indeed,” esther mumbles, as her mother continues. “marceline across the street had another baby, can you believe? joe carson died, that goldstein girl got married finally, and,” a beat of silence. “the martinellis next door? they got a rock thrown through their window, moved out two weeks ago. you used to be friends with their girl, right?” esther’s brain presents her with a memory of kissing angie martinelli in the alley between their houses at age fourteen. “um.” she clears her throat, hoping she isn’t blushing. “yes. that’s awful, though!” her mother nods. “it’s been happening to all the families on the other side.” “but the martinellis, they’re americans! so’s everyone else who lives here now.” “i know.”

“ma?” “yes?” “is it true that- that they’re not letting us in? from europe?” esther does her best to stay informed, of course she does, but they don’t have much access to the outside world, other than the occasional radio update. the doorbell rings before esther gets an answer, but her mother looks back as she gets up. “we’ll talk about it after your cousins leave.”

thankfully, most of the conversations don’t revolve around esther. somehow she is handed someone’s baby (is it abby’s? or rita’s?) and she occupies herself by using the scientific method to test which facial expressions get her cousin to laugh the most. she is directly addressed only twice, once at the door on their way in with pleasantries, and once at the door on their way out with further pleasantries. in return, she attempts to join in the conversation only once. “i heard they were actively hiring lesbians in the army,” rita says in a scandalized whisper, and it takes everything esther has not to react. “i heard they were trying to weed them out!” abby replies, and esther looks up, and says, “i heard they’re doing good work.”

it’s silent after that, for a minute, before someone brings up their friend’s husband’s aunt’s matzo and how awful it was. she spends the rest of the evening cursing herself under her breath.

when esther was sixteen years old, she got in the habit of waking up every morning at three to the sound of her mother’s tears. though it has been quite some time since then, she finds that once again, her feet carry her to the kitchen in this twilight hour. somehow she doesn’t think that it’s her father’s death that her mom is grieving this time. “oh, esther,” her mom gets up, still crying, and puts the kettle on. “i’m sorry i woke you.” she shakes her head. “no, it’s okay.” and in that moment, it hits esther full force. she’d been too caught up in sally’s arrival, the time-piece, the trip to vegas and the rumors about the bomb test that she had almost forgotten. her people have been killed and tortured in europe by the thousands, and she had pushed it to the back of her mind because it hurt too much to look at. but now, at home, in the company of her mother’s sadness, her own grief is allowed to join her at the kitchen table, and it is all consuming. her mother sits back down with hands outstretched and esther takes them, tears welling in her own eyes.

in the morning, it takes esther a few hours and some scrambled eggs before the hollow feeling in her chest is mostly dissipated. her mother leaves for some volunteer food donation meeting, (“you sure you don’t want to come? okay. alright! don’t let me forget i owe you at least one round of dilemma after dinner tonight! i want to see if your skills have improved,”) and esther says her goodbyes faintly before adding that she might go out and take a walk around the city. her current plans mostly consisted of sitting on the couch staring at the phone, until she finally picks it up to talk to the operator. she dials and hangs up five times before whispering, “can you connect me to uh, a bridget dreyfuss please?” it rings once, twice. she feels like she’s going to be ill. “hello?” oh god. it’s her. it’s really her. esther opens her mouth closes it once, twice. “hello? is anyone there? this is bridget speaking.” click! she can’t do it. the scientist in esther is telling her to stay exactly where she is and analyze what went wrong the first time and try again, that she knows the law of large numbers states with more trials there will be more successes but- she really can’t. she gets dressed in a flurry and flies out the door.

being in the city immediately puts her at ease. there is something so relieving about the anonymity of being lost in the crowds of people, something so peaceful. here, she isn’t “esther roberts working on a top secret time machine” here, she is “just another local going about her business” and isn’t that just lovely? she walks without purpose for a long time, weaving in and out of neighborhoods she used to know, taking note of new stores and factories and really, how many more cars there are. when the combination of noise and nostalgia becomes just a little too much, she slips into an art museum and pays the fee. already, the pace of her feet and her heart have slowed measurably. this, she thinks, this is something you really don’t see in polvo. she wanders around, committed to actually appreciating each piece instead of analyzing it. she and bridget used to visit art museums together, she remembers with a jolt, pointing out the figures they related to the most or posing like the statues. she shakes her head, almost smiling, and continues her aimless path. esther isn’t sure if she falls asleep, or daydreams or slips into some other form of time travel than the one they’re working on, but when she finally looks outside it has already gotten dark.

on the way back, esther walks with more confidence and ferocity in her step. she wouldn’t be caught dead looking anything less than lethal at this hour, by herself, in the middle of the city. she does stop once, though. on the street corner opposite, walking with a man in a tailored suit, is that…a familiar glimmer of hair? the light stepping walk esther knows so well? it’s gone. if bridget really had been there, which already she is starting to doubt, it’s not in the cards for their paths to cross tonight. she waits a moment longer, halfway between longing and regret, and heads home.

“it’s your turn!” “i know i’m just- hm.” “admit it, you don’t know what to do!” “never!” esther makes her move and her mother arches her brows, impressed. “have you been practicing?” “actually, i have been! so there’s this guy, jack,” esther smiles, thinking of her friend. “he’s been assigned to all the same projects i have since we got there, and we get along really great, when he’s not making fun of me… or the other way around.” she laughs and adds, “anyway he got the game right away and we play all the time, it’s incredible” she stops for a second, and then looks back up. “yeah, i love jack.” her mother leans forward and sets down her cards. “esther, are you telling me after all the this time you’ve finally found-“ “no,” she shakes her head. “ma, he’s my best friend. it’s not like that.” for a minute, she thinks her mom won’t believe her. but then, “you’ve never had one of those either. i’m happy for you.” esther beams. “thanks. it’s nice.” her mother takes her turn and then asks her about her other friends. as they play, esther happily tells her about sally and anthony and quentin and helen, about dinner parties and their adventures and, without getting into specifics, how wonderful it is to be working on science with a group like that.

“jack?” esther answers the phone nervously, wyatt wouldn’t have called unless something was wrong. “hey, esther,” her friend’s voice crackles through the phone. “i just got back to polvo and uh.” “what is it?” “quentin. he’s. well, he’s dead.” “what!” “he and sally were working on the time piece and apparently a bullet came out of nowhere and shot him and they’re gonna have a funeral, so. come home?” esther’s in shock. of course she’s sad about losing quentin, she really liked the guy, but in that moment all she can think is, it could have been me. it could have been any of us. it could have been me. “yeah. yes. i’ll come home. are you okay? is june? is sally?” “i’m fine, june’s beyond distraught, and i’m eighty percent sure sally’s working on some new tech to prove she didn’t kill him.” “goddamn it. okay. i’ll be there as soon as i can. thanks, jack.” “no problem, esther. see ya soon.”

[bulletproof-heaven]

Wings Cafe - Chapter 1

Chapter: prologue 1 2

The clock had just hit one in the morning and the streets were deserted. No late-night joggers, no crazy house parties, and no teenagers wandering on the streets looking for an illegal drink. All cars were parked in their respectable driveways and no lights shined through the windows of any of the houses. The town was dead asleep.

A black van with tinted windows was parked on the side of the road, in front of a tall expensive-looking office building. Two young men sat inside the van while two stood behind it, hidden, blending into the darkness.

"Taehyung, are you sure we are at the right place?" The shotgun rider, an adorable young man with round eyes and baby fat filled cheeks, whined into the earpiece he was wearing. The twenty-one-year-old brunette was on the verge of falling asleep, eyes unfocused and blinking slowly. “It looks nothing like the picture”.

A bass toned scoff was heard on the other side, "Are you doubting my skills, Jimin?".

Jimin opened his mouth to retort but the twenty-four-year-old with pale skin in the driver’s seat, beat him to it, "Taehyung, he’s just asking a question”

A pout could be heard, "but he started it! He thinks I'm weak because I do all my work from behind a laptop".

Jimin's eyes widened at the accusation and turned to the pale man with his own pout, "I never said anything even remotely close to that!"

The two best friends started arguing with each other, back and forth through, the communication device, forgetting that everyone else in the group of six could hear them.

"Guys!" An authoritative voice cut through the banter, "Can we please focus?"

The fighting pair both quietened down immediately, "sorry, hyung".

Namjoon sighed before asking, "Taehyung, are you sure they are at the right building?"

The sound of fingers flying on a keyboard could be heard, "Yeah, I'm sure. I have clear visuals on the entire place. They should really consider upgrading their security system".

"That's good”. The whole team could practically see the leader nod his head in a manner that they’re all familiar with; no facial expression, dyed platinum blonde hair bouncing along with a single curt nod.

"Okay, guys" he started, "I want it to be nice and clean, I'm talking to you, Jungkook-"

"-Hey!"

"I repeat: nice and clean. Then a big finale, okay?"

A chorus of okays came through.

"And also, no play fighting with the security, and no treasure hunting until the job is done, okay?"

Another chorus of okays.

"Party pooper." Jungkook muttered, even though everyone could hear it clearly.

Taehyung laughed teasingly, "You're just salty cause he called you out".

"You too, Taehyung. No wild goose chases just because you feel like messing with them”.

"Party pooper".

Namjoon simply ignored the hacker, “Jungkook, Hoseok, go”.

The two young men casually walked out from behind the van and straight towards the entrance of the building. Even though both of them were dressed in their best business attire, none of them looked like actual business men; multiple ear piercings, Hoseok had short black hair styled upward, while Jungkook had dyed reddish-brown with a side fringe.

"Stage one," Taehyung's voice rang though, alerting them but they didn’t reply; opting to just walk straight towards the two buff security guys with confidence. They nearly walked past them too but was suddenly stopped. "Excuse me, do you have ID?".

“Yeah, sorry” Hoseok laughed, “my bad”.

They both reached into their suits to pull out a lanyard with a laminated ID card attached to the end, before handing it over. The two watched one of the security guards scanned Hoseok’s card before handing it back. Hoseok muttered a quick thanks before heading towards the door, leaving the other behind. Jungkook waited patiently, slightly annoyed at the fact that Hoseok just had to give him a ‘ha, I’m first’ smile before entering the building and disappearing from his sight.

"Huh," the guy stated after scanning the ID. All the hairs on the back of Jungkook' neck stood up as a chill ran through his body. His heart started to race; Taehyung assured him that there would be no problems with the ID. He couldn't get stopped now. It was only the first stage; that would be so embarrassing.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, "is there something wrong?"

The guy looked back at him with a questioning gaze, "your name is Jihyo?"

And at that moment, Jungkook really wanted to just abort the mission in favor of driving an hour back home to punch Taehyung in the face.

He forced a smile and faked a laugh, "Yes, my mum really wanted a girl.”

The two security guys laughed along with him before handing back his ID. Jungkook walked into the building as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

"Are you serious?” He hissed, “Jihyo?". And all he received was Taehyung's laughter along with Hoseok’s loud snort.

"I've got to admit," the leader piped up, “that was pretty funny”.

Jungkook just rolled his eyes as he walked through the building briskly, turning left and right, knowing the layout like it was the back of his hand. Just as he reached the elevators, he looked up at the security camera and winked, knowing that Taehyung was on the other side watching, “Stage two”.

He could hear Taehyung’s fingers tap against the keyboard and within a couple of seconds, the elevator doors opened. After looking around him to see if he was being followed, he slips into the elevator and sighed as it slowly took him up to the top floor – level 50. He leaned against the wall and fingers drumming against the railing; the elevator music slowly eating away at his soul. He looked up at the camera again, “Can you change the music?”

“Sure can.” Taehyung typed away, only pausing temporarily to push his thick-framed glasses further up his nose, “Any requests?”

Suddenly, the elevator rumbled to a stop, lights shutting off, leaving Jungkook in the darkness.

“Taehyung” he growled, not impressed at how this night was turning out.

“I swear, it wasn’t me. Give me a sec”.

Jungkook shook his head in disbelief before grabbing a mini flashlight that was stashed in the pocket of his pants among other tools. He turned it on and tried to press all the buttons on the elevator. He was stuck.

“Taehyung, update”. Namjoon decided to step in after a few moments of radio silence.

A rustling sound came from the other side, “Um, the power grid of the whole area was shut down and I can’t turn it back on, must be a manual malfunction. So-”

“I have to crawl out of here.” Jungkook seriously was not impressed, already pulling off his expensive suit jacket, “You owe me a new suit”.

He gripped the flashlight between his teeth before moving a ceiling tile. He climbed out of the metal box into the pitch black elevator shaft and shined his light upwards, “What level am I on?”

“…45?” came the meek answer.

“45”. This night just gets worst and worst. Jungkook tucked the light between his teeth again before hurling himself up by the cables. There were a few moments of silence, save for Jungkook’ occasional grunts.

“Are-are you there yet?” Taehyung asked, curiously. All he got was a grunt in reply. “Well, are you?”

Another grunt was heard before some shuffling, “Yes, I am. Can you please open this stupid door?”

And the only answer that Jungkook did not want to hear came out of Taehyung’s mouth, as he is dangling 50 floors above ground with one hand clutched onto the cable and the other holding his flashlight.

“Oh. I can’t”.

“You what?”

“I can’t. The power’s cut off. I have no access to anything right now”.

Jungkook blinked, his arm getting slowly sore from holding up his body weight, “And you didn’t think to tell me this before I started climbing?!” He didn’t wait for a reply as he swung himself to the elevator door and stood on the tiny ledge, gripping on the side for his dear life, “Don’t talk to me anymore”.

Ignoring Taehyung’s whine, Jungkook balanced himself on the ledge and forced the door open, dropping his flashlight during the struggle. “You owe me a new flashlight”. He tumbled through the door and sat the ground to catch his breath from his almost death.

“Kookie~”

“Didn’t I tell you to not talk to me anymore?”

“Babe~”

“I’m sorry to interrupt this lovely couple moment” Hoseok huffed, out of breath, “but can we please hurry this up?”

Jungkook lifted himself up from the ground and walked through the door on his left, straight into the room containing the huge safe. Hoseok stood there, among a couple of gym bags, smiling when he sees the other approaching, “About time”.

Jungkook was taken aback, “How did you get up here? The power was off”.

“I found the stairs. You know how I feel about elevators”

“Of course.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, “Only you would climb up fifty flights of stairs and still have a smile on your face”. He strolled to the safe, noticing that it had already been blasted open by the chemical engineer. “Stage three complete”.

The two of them continued packing all the valuables and just as they finished, the power came back on, temporarily blinding them with the sudden change of lighting.

“I did it!” Taehyung cheered from his side before his tone changed, “Uh oh”.

“Uh oh?” Hoseok zipped up the last bag, suddenly alert, “What ‘uh oh’?”

“Hyung,” Taehyung called out to the leader, “need a new plan. A silent alarm was tripped and a team of guys are on their way up now. They’re on the stairs, 45th level. And when I say a team, I mean a team”.

“Okay” Namjoon’s no-funny-business voice rang through loud and clear. It was rare for missions to not go according to plan but it doesn’t mean they’re any less prepared. “Taehyung, elevator, top level, now. Hoseok, Jungkook, grab the bags and get in. Taehyung, make sure it doesn’t stop until they get to the ground floor…”

“Yes, sir” All three of them got to work.

“…Yoongi hyung, start the van”

No reply.

“Jimin?”

No reply.

Jungkook huffed as he lugged half of the bags into the elevator with Hoseok, “Don’t bother, they’re probably in the back of the van, making out”.

A high pitched screech could be heard followed by a low groan. Namjoon just laughed, “start the car, please”.

“Yeah, yeah” Yoongi drawled, ruffling his dyed mint green hair like he just woke up from a nap and not in charge of a get-away car.

“We weren’t making out!” Jimin yelled, clearly embarrassed, but everyone just ignored him.

Jungkook and Hoseok stood in the elevator with three gym bags each, filled with gold bars, important documents, jewellery, and bundles of cash. They suffered through the annoying background music and were ecstatic as the doors opened…but they weren’t on the ground floor. They were on the fifth.

“Taehyung, what’s going on?” Hoseok asked, pressing buttons, trying to close the door and get to the ground floor.

“Tonight’s just not going well” Taehyung huffed in annoyance, “to the person who is trying to hack my hack, stop. I don’t have time to play with you”.

Namjoon’s giant headache could be heard through his sigh, “Yoongi hyung, west side. Hoseok, Jungkook; window. Taehyung… just continue what you’re doing”.

Everything happen all at once. Yoongi pulled the car into gear and sped to the west side of the building. Before he could put it into ‘park’, Jimin jumped out and looked up, waiting. Hoseok and Jungkook grabbed the bags and ran out of the elevator towards the window. Jungkook tried to find a latch but realised it was one of those that don’t open.

“I got it” Hoseok stated, but just as he pulled a tiny bomb out of his pocket, Jungkook punched the window causing the entire thing to shatter. Hoseok shrugged, “That works too, I guess”.

The two boys then proceeded to throw all of the bags out the window, carelessly. They heard small squeal, a couple of loud thuds before Jimin’s sarcasm, “Thanks for the warning, guys. You nearly just killed me”.

Jungkook stuck his head out of the window, “You’re welcome”. He watched as both Yoongi and Jimin filled up the van before they slammed the back doors shut and hopped into the vehicle. He turned to Hoseok just in time to see the man jump out of the window with a giant smile, “Bye”.

Even though, deep down, he knew by instinct that Hoseok was abseiling using a secured the rope, the sight of him jumping out of a window was, nonetheless, terrifying. Jungkook sighed as he recovered and grabbed the rope, preparing to make his exit.

“Hello, hello” Hoseok greeted the not-couple cheerfully as he hopped into the van, leaving the door wide open for Jungkook.

“Where’s the other one?” Yoongi asked, after a few moments.

Hoseok furrowed his brows, “he should be right behind me”. He stuck his head out of the van. No Jungkook. He got out and looked up at the window he abseiled down from. No Jungkook.

“Taehyung.” He asked, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s so sexy right now” Taehyung let out a love-struck sigh, hands off the keyboard, in favour of watching his man.

“…What?” Hoseok stated, a bit taken aback with a disgusted look on his face. ‘Jungkook’ and ‘sexy’ were something he never wanted to think about in the same sentence.

Namjoon was not at all surprised; the youngest always loved physical brawls. The leader simply cleared his throat and stated, “Jungkook, if you come home with another black eye because you wanted to have fun, Jin hyung will be pissed”.

And with that, the boy immediately started abseiling down the window, knowing from past experience that an angry ‘mother’ of the house was not fun to deal with, “They threw the first punch, I swear”.

He landed on the ground with a huff and got in the van before Yoongi drove them away from the site and onto a nearby street where the building was still in clear view. Everyone in the vehicle leaned out the window to watch the building. Hoseok smiled as he turned on his phone, “Ready for the big finale?”

With a press of a button, the top quarter of the building exploded, shattering the windows, and setting the top half on fire. They watched as people run out of the burning structure and in the far distance, they could hear the fire brigade along with the police. They laughed and cheered, giving themselves a pat on the back for another successful mission, as they started their one-hour trip back home; knowing that, by the time the authorities got there, the building will be reduced to nothing.

Namjoon congratulated the boys one final time when they said they’ll be arriving in five minutes. He sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair, before taking out his earpiece, slipping it into his pocket. His leather shoes clicked against marble flooring of the mansion as he walked into a room used for meetings; carpet flooring, filled with a long table in the middle and a projector attached to the wall.

“Ah, I’m guessing the mission was a success?” The lady in red, sitting at the end of the table, asked. She was not the youngest client who wanted their service, at age twenty-eight, but she was one of the most demanding. The CEO of the company was her sugar daddy, and the man met a younger girl, leaving her broke and bitter.

“The boys will be here around…” Namjoon checked his Rolex watch, “two minutes”.

“Good”.

The two minutes went by fast and soon enough, the van was heard pulling up into the driveway. The boys’ rowdiness increased in volume as they got closer to the room. And just as they opened the door, the client pulled a gun out of her purse and pointed it to Namjoon’s forehead. Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok froze at the unexpected situation, underneath the doorway with the bags in their hands. Yoongi just strolled past the room entirely with a shrug, continuing down the hallway and up the stairs to his room.

“This is what’s going to happen” The lady hissed, “you guys are going to put all the bags in my car and I’m going to drive away with him”. She shuffled Namjoon and herself closer to the door, “one step in the wrong direction, he dies. You try to follow me, he dies. You alert the police, he dies. Understand?”

After the three finally processed the situation, Hoseok let out a giant snort. He tried, but he just couldn’t hold in the laughter. Jungkook was also trying to keep a smile from his face.

“What’s so funny?” she hissed again, getting angrier by the second.

“Look lady,” Namjoon stated calmly, “The contract -which you sighed- clearly states that you get what you need and we get the rest. You said that you only needed the document, so here they are”

On cue, Jimin tossed a folder onto the ground in front of her.

She scoffed in reply. “Screw the contract, I have a gun to your forehead”.

“Indeed you do.” Namjoon sighed for the nth time that night, wondering why this specific mission has so much extra drama then all the others. It definitely wasn’t the first time a client had tried to threaten them, one way or another, to gain the upper hand; but it had never been a girl. He was so ready to just call it a night and go snuggle up with his husband in bed for… a movie, maybe; he hasn’t decided yet.

Then, everything happened within a split second; Jimin pulled his own gun out from his belt and shot the woman dead, right between the eyes, before she even got a chance to say another word. He immediately locked the gun’s safety, ejected the magazine and the bullet from the barrel. Stepping around the corpse, he placed the pieces on the table with his head down.

Fat droplets of tears started falling from his eyes as he sniffled into his sweater paws. Suddenly, Jungkook and Hoseok were pushed into the room by a tall, charming man, “I heard a gun shot! Didn’t I say no murder in the house?”

Namjoon gulped nervously, just praying his husband didn’t realize that the corpse is bleeding straight onto the new carpet.

“And on the new carpet as well!”

Of course, he noticed; his husband was a smart man. Now he just hoped-

“And you made Jimin do it? Shame on you” The oldest man walked up to the crying boy and pulled him in for a comforting hug, stroking the top of his head.

Namjoon opened his mouth to defend himself, “The gun was pointed to my forehead”.

“Oh…never mind then” Jin let out a sheepish smile, a little embarrassed about his rashness, before focusing his attention back on boy who was still letting out quiet sobs, “It’s okay. You’re okay, go get some rest”.

Namjoon felt his whole starting to relax as the day was finally over, “Hoseok, can you-”

“Yeah, I got it” Hoseok immediately left the room to retrieve a body bag. Right after the door shut behind him, it opened again. Taehyung walked in, half asleep; dressed in sweatpants and a giant grey sweater hanging off his lanky figure, glasses still perched on top of his nose. He grabbed Jungkook’ hand and simply guided him out the room, wordlessly.

Jin watched the door close in incredulity, immediately pulling it open and yelling, “You two better go straight to bed! I don’t want to hear anything other than sleep!”

Namjoon chuckled at his husband as he stepped forward and held him by the waist in a back hug, “You know their both consenting adults, right?”

The twenty-four-year-old turned around with a cute pout, “they’re still my babies”.

“Taehyung is twenty-one and Jungkook is nineteen. They’re not babies anymore” Namjoon laughed before leading himself and the man he has been in love with for the past seven years, towards their bedroom.