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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Powerful Ch. 1

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU* Quirkless as well

Warnings: Arranged (sort of) marriage, brief mention of champagne, mentions of violence (nothing too specific). In later chapters: Probably smut

Word Count: 3.4 k

Author’s Note: ALRIGHTY here we go. I just had a fixation on Mafia AUs and, of course, it’s Shouta. What else did you expect? I’m a sucker for arranged relationships. Also he’s a little ooc in here, more confident, more ‘I want it I got it’. Hey, he’s the most powerful man in Japan, might as well have him act like it right? Anywho, I have no clue how many chapters this’ll end up being. Let’s just say this is ongoing for now.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Enjoy~

25 years old and you haven’t been married off yet. This was strategic on your father’s part. As a rather low-ranking clan he’d purposely saved you, his eldest daughter, for marrying into a higher ranked clan. You’d bring immense honor to the family name. If only you’d known what you were getting into, maybe you could have been better prepared for your world to flip on its head.

The black velvet gown you wear is tailored perfectly to your form, accentuating every curve and dip on your body. The skirt fanned out around you gracefully and a short train trailed behind you as you stepped through the grand doors of the massive mansion. Tonight is the annual celebratory ball, held to celebrate successful unions and achievements. This one was particularly special, you just didn’t quite know it yet.

Since the event wasn’t mandatory, you were told to go in alone as a representative of your clan, while Mother and Father attended to more important matters. Before you even stepped in you fixed your posture and schooled your expression, keeping your form humbled. Heavens know what could happen should you irk the wrong clan.

Inside you were met with an onslaught of mixed everything, mixed drinks and colors and styles. Some wore traditional Japanese kimono, others more modern versions of the garment and others, like you, wearing more extravagant european or western style clothing. Though a rather interesting mix, nothing quite clashed which you were slightly grateful for, since there was no possible way you could make it through the night without a headache if there was an unpleasant mix of visuals.

You strode through and instantly met several lower clan heads that you respectfully bowed to and engaged in pleasant small talk with, moving from person to person, couple to couple and paying respects to all of them. You kept a small smile, a pleasant facade as you waltzed over the hardwood flooring. It took almost two hours of endless conversation before you managed to catch a break in the madness, snatching a small flute of champagne from a waiter and leaning up against a wall for a breath.

You still hadn’t noticed the pair of dark eyes that studied you from the moment you arrived.

____

You struck him as intriguing at first. From the moment you walked over the threshold his eyes drank you in, studying you, observing and judging just as he had with many other women before you. No one here knows it, but the man is looking for a bride. Someone who could stand by his side,improve and uphold his image, help him wield the power that is the Yakuza. Yes, rank is important, but Shouta is too picky to care about rank. He is looking for a specific type of woman, one that can hold untold depths of power without crumbling under the pressure or getting swept up in the rush of it all.

A woman, he decides, like you.

You held yourself with grace, pride and humility. You seemed to understand your position, your probable low rank, while also not undermining your importance nor worth. A woman like you is hard to come by in this world, most just as power hungry and ruthless and greedy as their husbands, all while putting up a cotton candy sweet mask and using it to disguise their conniving ways.

But in truth, that’s what it took to live this kind of life, isn’t it?

It was clear you knew that, while still managing to feel genuine in everything you did, even with an action as simple as sipping champagne. At the same time he can’t deny you are quite beautiful, soft lips and softer eyes, fingers gently grasping your glass with unmatched elegance and an unwavering strength in your posture. You’d bowed before many this evening, and yet you stood taller than even the highest ranking clan heads without challenging a single one of them. Bamboo in this forest of tall, unyielding trees. Capable of wielding so much power.

For a split second his mind wandered to other things, filthy moments shared in the privacy of his chambers, shared breaths and shimmering sweaty skin. He wondered what you would be like underneath him, if you would be a brat or willingly submit yourself to him. He hopes it to be the latter, but wouldn’t completely deny the chance to tame someone difficult. How would you look pinned under his weight, completely helpless to his hands that have killed and tortured? Would you claw at his shoulders or grip the sheets instead? What would you sound like? Your image plagued his mind even if only for a moment.

He’d studied many women over the few hours since the event started, none of them giving him a good enough first impression for him to continue watching further than a minute. There was no question in his mind now. You’d be returning home with him tonight.

____

You had just finished your drink and set the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray when suddenly the ballroom fell extremely silent. All heads turned, eyes focused on the man that began his descent from the balcony overlooking the floor. He’s gorgeous, long black hair pulled into a low bun and exposing the light scruff on his chin and impossibly sharp jaw, a deep scar curved under his right eye. The full black satin suit is fitted to his form, strong shoulders and rolling muscle evident even under the thick materials. Ink peeked over the collar, a hint at what was definitely intricate sleeves and detailed artwork. His steps were measured, calculated and purposeful as he made his way down and across the floor, the entire room bowing down at his presence.

You know who he is, as does every person here. Top rung of the ladder, Oyabun of the most powerful clan in Japan, his name widely known through the entire organization and yet almost never spoken. Shouta Aizawa, a name both respected and feared, holding unknown power and strength. His reputation is enough to make anyone feel small in his presence, known for his cold demeanor and the violence he’d committed, many losing their fingers, loved ones, and their own lives for misdeeds against him. He’d done most of that himself, marking him as a very dangerous man to be involved with, and an ally everyone wanted backing them.

You bowed down respectfully just as everyone else did, waiting patiently for a release, whether it was from the man himself or a collective understanding that it was alright to rise once again. The former was the first to come to fruition, though you didn’t expect him to be so close to you as he said it. Your eyes met with sharp onyx as you fixed yourself upright. It made you freeze in place, not quite tense, not quite relaxed, your expression hopefully not showing the utter shock you were feeling.

“What is your name?” You blinked only once before your mind caught up, and you willed your voice steady as you responded. What had you done to piss him off? What punishment awaited you for what you didn’t know you’d done? Despite fearing what may come, you don’t dare speak out of turn, even to beg for your life. His next words were addressed to the entire ballroom, you included, his smooth, deep voice booming out and yet somehow not loud at all.

“Any transgression against this woman is a transgression against me. As my future wife she is untouchable, and will remain that way until I explicitly state otherwise.” A collective hushed gasp sounded through the massive hall, your own eyes growing wide and your heart damn near stopping as your brain dissected the information. He just made you his fiance, with no warning, no hesitation, and full confidence. You are now engaged to the most powerful man in Japan, and you have exactly zero say in the matter. Really though, you never expected to be able to voice any opinions considering the patriarchy of the organization, so that bit of shock was quickly overlooked.

“It’s time to retire, little one.” His hand was held out to you, waiting for your own. You blinked, deciding it was best that you saved your shock for later you focused on the here and now and what to do in this moment. Taking a breath, you schooled your face into a pleasant smile and placed your hand in his waiting palm, allowing him to tuck you into his side as you both walked out the front doors and climbed into a black limouzine.

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, sitting silently next to the man as trees and telephone poles whizzed by the vehicle. It was tense, to say the least, his hand possessively sat on your knee as his eyes remained fixed in front of him and yours did the same. Neither of you talked, you slightly out of fear, of respect, and slightly out of sheer shock, your mind just barely able to keep itself together. He remained silent for a purpose. He would talk when you were alone, or when he felt like talking. Which isn’t right now.

You let your mind whirl a bit, worrying about what this meant for you. Worrying about how this powerful man would treat you, how he acted behind closed doors and if he even cared about you or what you might have to say. It’s nerve-wracking, suddenly bound to a power such as him, not knowing what could happen next, not knowing what to do next. There was nothing that could have prepared you for this.

The car slowed as it pulled up to the gate of the enormous estate, shaking you out of your thoughts, and once it opened the drive to the main house took nearly five minutes on its own. It’s a modern home, several stories tall with the top clearly penthouse-style with a full glass wall that overlooks the landscape, the rest of the huge inner home hidden behind crisp walls.

At a full stop, a man opens the door for you, the Oyabun having already exited and held a hand out for you to grab once again, strong muscles pulling you up with ease and leading you through the building and into an elevator. The silence is stifling as you wait for the machine to come to a stop, the soft chime indicating you’ve landed.

Now you’re completely alone with him.

He leads you in and stops in the center of the large main room, stepping away and turning his scrutinizing gaze onto you. You do your best not to tense in front of him, not to show fear, partially for his comfort though you’re sure he’s used to it. His shoes clack softly, rhythmically on the polished wood floor as he begins to circle you, like a predator eyeing its prey, eyes burning paths up and down your form. You barely keep from squirming under his intense gaze, managing to keep still from sheer willpower. He stops suddenly behind you and you feel his warmth as he leans in close before a hand presses into your mid back and another gently grasps your shoulder, gently making you straighten even more, stand even taller.

Once he’s satisfied with your posture he rounds you and tilts your chin just a tad higher with a hooked finger. He’s silent as he shapes you, adjusting your body to his liking. You let him tenderly push and tug, grab and knead and trail those deadly fingers over you until he stops before you, studying you once again.

“You’re my fiance now. You will hold yourself as such, radiate power as I do and command the attention of a room with only a glance.” The reminder of just what was happening made your breath stutter a little, and his hand came up to grasp your chin, making you look up into his dark eyes.

“You will learn, little one, to be the powerful woman I see.” He was so close, the heat from his body rolling over your skin and his breaths fanning over your face. Then he was walking away, motioning for you to follow as he led you to his chambers and bathroom to get cleaned up. You’d be sleeping with him from now on, he said, handing you a robe to change into after you’ve bathed and guiding you into the bathroom before closing the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts as you set to cleaning yourself.

Given you don’t screw things up, you are going to be the most powerful woman in Japan, solely because of a sudden arranged marriage dropped seemingly from out of nowhere. But the longer you think about it, it isn’t really out of nowhere is it? The Oyabun is 30 now, and until tonight hadn’t named a wife, nor any love interests, and therefore no possible heirs. If the man were to die for any reason, those chances only increasing the older he gets, the power vacuum his absence would create would be absolute madness. You’re part of a strategy, just as before. Just as always.

Yet there was no denying he’d struck something inside you. Of all the women in that hall he approached you, a woman he didn’t know from a low ranked clan, for reasons you could only barely begin to guess. He’d called you powerful earlier, the sincerity in his voice making your mind spin. Did he really see you as powerful? And the name he’d used for you felt far too tender on the tongue of such a dangerous man, though you understood the nod toward your previous rank.

Father and Mother must be either confused, shocked, or overflowing with joy right about now. Confused as to why you haven’t returned, shocked, happy, or both at the news had they learned it. With your mind processing everything, your body finally begins to feel fatigued.

You shut off the water before drying yourself, patting your hair in the towel before pulling on the fluffy robe. It was clearly meant for him, the fuzzy black garment large around the shoulders and sleeves engulfing your hands, the garment nearly touching the floor where it’s meant to hang several inches from it on his frame. Despite swimming in the robe, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vulnerable. You’re bare beneath it, not having planned to not return home. Still, it’s late, and the Oyabun needs to shower as well. With a steadying breath, you step out into the room.

He’s standing near the bed, the top half of his clothing discarded and bare skin exposed, along with the heavy tattooing and scars along his body. Dragon scales decorated his skin, along with delicate swirls heavily resembling smoke and clouds that followed the curves of his corded muscles. He is undoubtedly a beautiful man. You don’t realize you’re staring until a miniscule smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Enjoying the view, little one?” You blink away your daze and shift your eyes to the side, feeling the slight burn in your face at being caught. Instead of answering the cheeky question you choose to change the subject.

“I’m finished with my shower, Oyabun.” He hums, a low sound you can feel in your chest.

“I can see that, little one. And you call me Shouta.” You take a quiet, sharp inhale and nod.

“Yes, of course...Shouta.” His name feels heavy on your tongue, a name that people didn’t normally dare speak. He’s silent as he gathers his things and moves toward the bathroom, stopping momentarily by your side. You’re confused a moment before his calloused fingers gently grip your jaw and turn your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple for a split second before he’s disappearing into the bathroom.

You stand in shock, the tender touch unexpected. Shaking your head, you decide it’s best to lay down. Hopefully you’d fall asleep by the time he finishes bathing, but you doubted it. You’re proven right when, in the midst of mulling over your own thoughts, he emerges in nothing but sweatpants, dark hair still damp as it fell around his shoulders. You managed to avert your eyes before he could catch you staring for a second time tonight, and it wasn’t long before he slipped under the blankets next to you.

There wasn’t a single word shared between you as he flicked off the lights with a remote and settled into the plush mattress. There was no movement from the man as you lay with your back to him. You aren’t entirely sure if the lack of movement unsettles you more than if he were to be shuffling around. It felt like hours had passed in the darkness, your eyes had adjusted and you couldn’t sleep despite how exhausted you felt.

Your mind raced with questions. What happens now? What happens with your clan and parents? Would you have clothes soon? How would he treat you? How were you supposed to act around him? When is the wedding? Is the engagement already official? What if you disappoint him and fuck everything over? The entire situation makes you anxious, for more than something as trivial as your own safety. You shift onto your back and listen to Shouta’s soft snores, signaling his sleep. As silently and gently as you can, you slip out of bed.

You have no clue what you were going to do or where you were going to do it, but you had to get away from him if only for a moment, to let yourself breathe and think. Almost mindlessly, you find yourself staring out of the glass wall and out into the night. This far out, you can see the stars in the night sky clear and bright, and it was a sight you missed having lived in the city most of your life. Right here you have room to think, space to spread your thoughts and calm your mind to keep from jumbling everything in your brain and stressing over it more.

From what you can tell there is a very small chance Shouta would treat you maliciously, so for now you don’t have to worry about that. Considering his power and status, you won’t be without clothing for long. The thought was silly in the first place, but stress tended to make you question even the most ridiculous. As for how you’re meant to act, well that would have to be tested. He’d already told you how to appear to the public, so that shouldn’t be too hard, but being alone with the man was driving you insane.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts. You spin around, suddenly very much on guard, before Shouta’s voice broke through the darkness, his figure slowly approaching.

“What are you doing up, little one?” You bite your lip and turn to gaze outside again, hugging your arms tight.

“Just thinking. I apologize for waking you, Oya-… Shouta.” His warmth hit you before his skin did, chest pressed into your back and large rough hands gripping your shoulders firm but gentle. His breath is hot on your ear and neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Such an intimate action from him only hours after he’d made you his fiance was quite the shock in and of itself, only enhanced by the fact that this man is known for his cold nature.

“Thinking about what?” His hands smoothed down your arms, following them around your waist and encompassing your hands in his, tugging you into him further. Unnatural as it may seem, it feels good, his warmth. In the arms of such a dangerous and powerful man you should feel small and scared, but you don’t. You aren’t entirely sure what it is you feel. Truthfully, you don’t have the energy to answer his question properly.

“About a lot of things. Too many things.” Right now, the only thing you want to do is melt into the man’s arms. His presence is suddenly comforting, instead of worrying, and you feel safe in his embrace. You sigh and lean into him, fatigue finally beginning to tug at your body and mind. Strong arms scoop you up like nothing, and suddenly you’re being placed down on the bed before he climbs in and pulls you onto him. An arm circles your waist while the other cradles your head, a tender kiss placed at your hairline.

“Sleep, little one.” His fingers thread through your hair, massaging your scalp lightly. It’s a soothing action, especially after nearly giving yourself a headache from stress. It isn’t long before you’re nodding off, relaxing into his body and letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep.

#shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa mha #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa #mafia au bnha #mafia au mha #shouta aizawa x fem reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

When they met Jake had a mop of hair (still looked cute) but then he got it cut and went from cute to HOT AF wonder what Amy’s reaction to that was 🤔🤔 or what her reaction to first time seeing him in a suit (suit Jake can step on me)

(gonna smush those together and add the awesome triple Ask part 2, "Amy realizing how hot Jake is early in their friendship like a moment of realization and then it won’t get out of her head)

also, Jake’s suit: like this

and Amy’s dress: like this but in blue

for your imagination pleasures :D

He was cute in a dorky kind of way, she had to admit even before she ever dared to think she might like him.

Well, she didn't exactly have to admit that to anyone, because no one really asked (except for Kylie, who only got a shrug and an eye roll when she inquired about her new co-workers). But she kind of admitted it to herself, whenever she caught a glimpse of his mop of hair bobbing past her desk with a new file, or leaning over her when they were discussing a new case. He was kinda cute.

Annoying and childish and boisterous and a pain to work with, but... in a cute way.

It made no difference to admit that, anyway. It didn't matter. They were co-workers, and that's it. She wasn't here to make friends - especially not with someone as wild and career-hobbling as him. She’d made that decision before she even came to the 99, and it wasn’t going to change.

-*-

He came in with no curls left at all six months into their working relationship, about a month after she’d also admitted to herself that maybe she wasn’t intentionally here to make friends, but had accidentally ended up with a strangely loyal one.

“Good, right?” He grinned at her with a proud double-pointer to his head, sitting or rather plonking down into his chair across from her while she tried to pry her eyes from him. She had been staring the whole way from the elevator to their desks, but maybe it wasn’t too late to hide that.

It was a bit harder to hide the blush that started at the top of her ears, but she cleared her throat quickly to pull his eyes away from that.

“That’s quite a change.”

“Yeah, Gina set me up with one of her stylist friends. Didn’t work out, but, uh, guess I got something out of it. Which is probably what she was planning for anyway.” He shrugged, answered with a resounding “Uh, duh!” from behind Amy before he stuck his tongue out at the childhood friend she was separating him from.

Something in her face twitched at the mention of another one of his dates - he seemed to be going on a lot of those, and he had no qualms telling everyone so, even though he never elaborated. Why it made her stomach drop a bit every time, she wasn’t quite so sure. Probably because it was so unprofessional to discuss at work, and she was already toeing the line too much joining in with some of his jokes and pranks. He swore McGinley didn’t give a damn, but she was sure she’d seen their captain’s disapproving stare through the half open blinds the last two times Jake had pulled her up from her desk for something definitely not police-related.

Jake was still low-key squabbling with Gina over her head, so she could slip out of that conversation easily, focus on the files she was working on before he came in looking like that, disrupting her… everything.

“It looks good.” She said instead, cursing herself for opening her mouth the second it closed again, but continuing. “Frames your face much better.”

The infighting stopped, and she could feel Gina’s stare burn into the back of her head. But far more pressing was the look Jake was giving her now, a short blink of… surprise, maybe, before his face broke out into a grin that wasn’t half as goading or over-the-top as usual.

“Uh, I, mh, thanks.” He mumbled, quickly staring down at the files he’d left open yesterday before he left, and she almost thought she could see a blush on the tip of his ears now, finally visible without being hidden underneath all that hair.

But that was surely just her imagination.

-*-

A very overactive imagination, she sighs as she stands in the copier room. An imagination that couldn’t stop staring at him throughout the day, at the way his profile had changed so much now without those curls always in the way, at the short hairs on the back of his neck, her fingers itching to run through them to find out if they’d feel soft or bristly. An imagination that refused to go back to the simple description of ‘cute’.

“I see you, Santiago.” A terrifying voice behind her interrupts her, and she’s glad her files are already in the copier so she can’t throw them at Gina in shock as she turns around to face her.

“What?”

“I see you, staring at my boy.” Gina points two fingers from her eyes into Amy’s direction, a grin breaking out on her face that almost rivals the ‘boy’ she’s talking about. “Getting the hots for the class clown? Gonna go smoochtown on my little bro?”

“As if.” Amy scoffs, maybe a bit too loudly, shaking her head a bit too much. “We’re talking about the same guy here? The one who claims that jelly beans have 4 calories each, so eating 500 a day should fulfil his caloric needs?”

“Uhu.” Gina seems bored now, which is not unusual for her whenever she’s talking to Amy, staring at her fingernails instead. “Keep trying to delude yourself with those negatives, poor girl. Just channel all that unfulfilled desire into some boring paperwork. I’ll be waiting for the day you snap and tear his clothes off right at his desk, so I can be out sick that day and not have to witness it.”

“I’m not going to-” Amy tries to protest, but Gina has already hopped out of the room, her hair bouncing behind her as she gives a wave and leaves her behind with a growl.

She’s not. She’s not going to do anything. There’s nothing to do something about. There- it’s- he’s-

She’s allowed to think someone looks attractive without immediately devolving into sexual thoughts or interest. She can think one of her friends is good-looking without making that weird. She can… she can admit that Jake is her friend and that Jake is attractive and it doesn’t change anything.

It doesn’t.

-*-

They’re all standing in front of the precinct, half shivering because of the wind swiping through their legs, and Amy curses whoever’s idea it was to meet up there instead of straight at the NYPD party two blocks down. We’re supposed to show a unified front as a squad, she remembers Terry saying, arriving together will help with that.

Well, they apparently won’t even start off together, because they’ve been waiting for Jake - of course, who else? - for close to 15 minutes now, and none of their messages were even answered. (Amy duly noted that hers were actually the only ones signed off with a ‘read’ notification, but she couldn’t think too much about that now, not while she was freezing in a dress she was still worried might be too low cut for a work event, even while Rosa next to her was sporting the most amazing little black dress she’d ever seen.)

“I swear to god, if Peralta isn’t here in 5 minutes, I’ll-” Terry is interrupted in his rant by a far too familiar voice sprinting at them.

“I’m here! I’m here.” Jake coughs a little as he comes to a stop and leans forward, hands on his knees, before standing up with a wide grin as if nothing happened. “I’m here! Let’s go! What are we waiting for?!”

Terry gives him the most dead-set stare he can muster before the group starts moving, all eager to finally get to a place that not only offers free drinks and food, but also heating.

Amy falls back a few steps, fighting with some uncomfortable heels she also should’ve rethought as much as her dress, and finds herself next to Jake, who’s apparently still trying to catch his breath from his run to the precinct. At least that’d explain the little gasp and baited breath as she bonks against him in her next stumble, and finds she’d rather like to stay there - on account of him being warm, of course.

“Geez, Santiago.” His arm wraps around her, suddenly, an even warmer hand rubbing up and down the thin sleeves of the stylish yet impractical soft coat she’d picked. “If you know you run cold all the time, why don’t you bundle up for the weather?”

Because bundling up doesn’t look good, she thinks with a sigh. Bundling up doesn’t leave an impression with the captains at that party. And because, maybe, Kylie had been a little too convincing about her online shopping cart after two glasses of wine each and clicked Buy before Amy could stop her.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to spend more than 5 minutes out in the cold today, but we had to wait twice that for you.” She bites back instead, and hates herself for it, because it makes his wonderfully warm arm drop from her side almost immediately.

“Sorry.” He mumbles while staring at the ground. “Hey, you want my coat? It’s fresh dry-cleaned, I promise.”

“I didn’t know you even owned anything but that leatherjacket and at least twenty similar hoodies.”

“Yeah, it’s my grown-up nice jacket I only wear for special events.” He decides to ignore her dig, stroking down the soft grey wool with a strangely proud grin before unbuttoning it. “Here, put it on. Pre-warmed.”

She can’t protest anymore before he slips it over her shoulders, and it is incredibly warm and soft, but that’s not what freezes her mind entirely.

Jake’s in a suit. That much was to be expected, considering the event they were going to specifically asked for it, but it only now dawns on her that she’s never seen him in a suit before, not accounting for his dress blues. And what a suit. It’s dark green, emerald, she thinks it’s called, a colour that works perfect with his light brown curls (slightly grown out again), and there’s- there’s a waistcoat involved, and a pocket square, a navy blue coloured pocket square, and she realises it’s the exact same shade of blue as her dress, and her mind can’t even focus on how the cut of his suit seems perfectly tailored around his waist while thinking about that, until Charles’ wolf-whistle pulls her out of her fugue.

“Hot damn, Peralta.” Terry nods next to him. “Didn’t expect you to make the effort, to be honest.”

“Gina has this friend who works at a tailor.” He coughs, and yes, there is definitely a blush on his ears now. “Plays himself as a bit of a stylist, but I think he went overboard.”

Charles “Nuh-uh!” mixes with Rosa’s “Why does Gina keep trying to hook you up with horrible people”, and almost overshadows Amy’s “Do you make any fashion choices that aren’t basically Gina-led?”

“Because she’s Gina.” Jake shrugs and seems to answer both Amy and Rosa with that, staunchly ignoring Charles for the moment, which is probably his best bet.

Amy wants to shoot something back, anything, to keep her mind off of that suit and her eyes from staring, but she can’t. She’s glad she has to look forward as they move on, though, focusing more on not stumbling on the uneven pavement with Jake’s warm, heavy coat over her shoulders.

So he looks good in a suit. That’s fine. He cleans up well. Lots of men do. Terry is wearing a nice suit, too. So’s Charles, she has to admit.

But neither of them pull at the seams of her mind like his does. Neither of them makes her wonder how it feels to let her hands slide down his lapels, maybe grab them midway and pull him forward-

The two block walk is far too short to cool her down again, especially with that cursed warm jacket around her, smelling so much like him and his unusual cologne that he’s definitely never worn to work before, but that will be burned into her nose for a while now.

-*-

He helps her slip both his and her jacket off at the coat check, and there seems to be a short moment where he almost drops hers as she turns around again, his eyes rushing up and down her wrap dress, sporting a cleavage and a high slit that really can only be explained by two glasses of wine and Kylie. At least the sleeves are long enough to not make her freeze anymore now that she’s inside.

“Wow.” He mumbles even as she begins pulling at said sleeves, adjusting the collar that already feels like it’s dropped too far.

“I know, it’s too much, my friend-”

“Too much?!” He interrupts with a stare. “Ames, you look-” He seems to be grasping for something to say, and she can see a flash of a lot of words across his mind before he stares at the ground again for a second to find himself. “Good. You look really good.”

She smiles as her eyes drop to the ground as well.

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

He snorts, before lifting his arm in an inviting gesture, and she doesn’t want to rethink it too much as she slips her arm into the hook of his elbow.

“Well, let’s go look good together then.” He says, and yep, she’s definitely rethinking all of that. For the whole evening. Every time he catches her eyes - she’s not staring, she’s not - and smiles at her. The first time he points to his pocket square, mouthing We match! with almost childlike glee in his eyes. The following five times he does it. Even the one time Charles points it out as they find each other in their little group again, met with a round of sighs and a disgruntled “No, Charles” from Jake himself.

She thinks about it - and about him, and that suit - when he picks up their coats, both swaying and giggling just a little from the free champagne.

And then she thinks about something a bit more, when he slips his jacket over her shoulders immediately, his hands gliding over her bare neck for just a second, the scent of his cologne from the collar only strengthened by the scent of him right behind her.

So he’s cute. So he’s attractive. So he looks amazing in a suit.

So she might be a little bit attracted to all that.

It still didn’t change anything.

-*-

what r u wearing 2 NYPD party, he texts her a year later, and she crinkles her nose at his appalling writing.

You know how to write proper English, I’ve seen your reports. She texts back, and then… Why do you want to know?

Thought it would be fun to match again. comes the well-written answer, and she stares at it for a good ten minutes before finally answering.

Green chiffon.

She was going to change her mind about that dress Kylie helped her pick again, but she won’t. Not now.

-*-

What r you gonna wear babeeeee, he pesters her with the 5th message about it in as many days, ever since she sent him the reservations info for their first anniversary dinner.

I told you it’s going to be a surprise.

Not fair! How am I supposed to match?! She grins as she reads it.

Won’t look good on you if you can’t figure that out, detective.

-*-

“I knew it!”, he grins at her wide at the bottom of her stairs as she descends in her navy blue wrap dress, glad it still fits after years in her closet.

“Easy enough for you to say. You probably have a whole colour range of pocket squares ready.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, reaching for her hand on the last step already, his other hand unbuttoning the same ‘grown-up nice jacket’ she knows so well by now. “Look?”

She lets out a happy laugh as she’s met with his emerald green suit jacket, a memory burned into her mind for probably forever.

She’s so glad he never changes.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #fic

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fmdjaewonarchive · 4 years

Text

► alarm.

date(s): 25 july - 20 august 2020 mentions of: soo (very briefly, like, literally once) word count: 1,439 warnings: n/a details: a solo for the first two episodes of our songs filming, mainly focussed on the creative process behind writing alarm.

‘i’m feeling pretty confident’ had been one of jaewon’s closing remark when they had interviewed him as they had finished the first day of filming when they had just received the mission.

of course, that was a big fucking lie.

jaewon’s confidence was nowhere to be found, neither were any actual ideals as to how to tackle the mission. all there was was the overwhelming anxiety about how he was going to mess this up, how he was gonna fail before he even got to properly try.

a song that would convince everyone to listen to his music, that had to be a damn joke right? jaewon couldn’t name a single reason as to why anyone should listen to his music, he just made something that sounded good to his own ears and hoped anyone would share the sentiment. the longer he thought about it, the more he felt like truly he had nothing to do on this show.

what had he gotten himself into?

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

the thing was, jaewon wasn’t a composer. he had dabbled around in it a little bit but none of it had ever been shared with the world and that was for a very simple reason, he didn’t think his work was anywhere near professional enough to be released for other people to hear.

dimensions entertainment seemed to agree with that, which was why the had put him in one of the companies many studios with one of the in-house producers.

(a part of jaewon felt like this was cheating. surely, plenty of the other contestants possessed the skill to manage the entire creative process behind their songs themselves. didn’t that in itself mean they were much more talented than he was? what did they still need this fucking show for?)

“the theme is identity right?” the producer asked. he knew the man decently well, they’d worked together on a few songs through the years which at least meant that he was familiar with jaewon’s music to some degree. “so what of your currently released songs describes your identity the most? that should give us a decent starting point for creating an instrumental you can work with.”

jaewon’s eyebrows furrowed together at the question. a long, silent moment passing as he contemplated the answer. “anything from biorhythm.” he responded, expression wry as he remembered his last album, what a mess that had been. “roommates only or still if you want me to get specific.”

“and you want another song like those on biorhythm?” the producer asked. it was a fair question. if there was one thing jaewon had been guilty of so far with his music it was probably getting stuck in his comfort zone, any songs that he had a big creative input in had always been written for himself, not because he had been tasked to do so but because they came easily to him. he had yet to really branch out of that safe zone.

but this mission was about his identity and if anything described his identity well, it was probably the biorhythm album.

“yeah, for now i do.” jaewon admitted with a light nod. “might i actually manage to get somewhere on this show i can worry about experimenting or thinking outside the box or whatever.” if he would even get that far and with how it was going so far, jaewon didn’t know if he dared to hope for that. “for now i think i need something familiar, something that fits in well with the rest of my music.” in an afterthought he added “like, my actual music, not whatever dimensions decided my sound was for that cluster fuck of a last album.” and the comment earned him a humored scoff from the producer before they got to work.

they ended up working way longer than the initially scheduled studio time, evening bleeding into the night before either of them really realized it. but the hard work paid off because by the time he bids the producer a good night and goes home, jaewon has the bare bones of a song. so far, the track was a gentle piano tune that blended into a deep, more electronic bass sound in the chorus that added to the overarching melancholic feel of the song.

most importantly, it sounded like his song. the producer had painstakingly made sure that every sound, every beat had been to jaewon’s liking, perfectly tailored to a song that sounded so entirely his that it felt like the man had been reading his mind. only it sounded better than anything jaewon could have ever made with his own two hands.

it managed to calm his nerve some, having a solid starting point to start working from. maybe, this wasn’t doomed to go wrong after all, maybe jaewon could manage to stand his ground in this competition after all. for the first episodes then at least.

also, he really owed this poor producer something for keeping him up till like 3 am.

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

logically, the next step was to write the lyrics, simple enough right?

except it wasn’t.

it hadn’t been for a lack of trying, there had been multiple days so far where jaewon had locked himself in his home studio, trying to force himself to write the damn song already with very little success. there had been a few drafts, all of which he had abandoned long before they could really take a solid shape. none of it was simply good enough.

how was he gonna prove himself as a songwriter if he couldn’t even write one fucking song?

the biggest problem was that jaewon was slowly running out of time. he had told himself to make sure he had the bulk of his work done by the 7th of august. not because he would be pushing the deadline too soon otherwise, hell, the final version didn’t have to be in till the 30th. but unity made their comeback on the 7th (their first one in over a year) and jaewon knew it would take a huge toll on the time he had to write, he had to be done before then.

instead, the 7th came and went without a single lyric written.

it was the 12th already (or maybe technically the 13th already judging by how late at night it was) when he found time to withdraw himself into his home studio again and truth be told, jaewon had little faith he would actually be able to get anything done. he was absolutely drained, the day had been long and hectic and judging from the fact he had to do the whole circus over again the next day as well, starting way too early in the damn morning, he probably direly needed his sleep.

god, all jaewon wanted was to sleep in, just one day, no alarms or anything.

now wait a damn minute…

maybe tonight would amount to something after all.

for someone that had been so lethargic mere minutes ago, jaewon managed to pull up audio file of the track in mere seconds, listening to the instrumental in it’s entirety a time or two, tapping his fingers along on the desk to the music before he began writing.

don’t set it today alarm, alarm, alarm, close, close, close your eyes

he finished the entire first draft that night, only forcing himself to put the pen down so he would at least sleep. the irony of the situation mocked him as he put his alarm for 6am before getting in bed and wrapping himself around soo for a mere 2 hours of sleep but he didn’t dwell on it.

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

it took him another two late night sessions to finish up the lyrics for the final product but truth be told, said studio time was divided between nearly falling asleep and actually writing as unity’s promotions began to weight down on him harder the more they progressed.

not that there was much of a rush. the official recording was only scheduled for the 20th of august to incorporate whatever working points that had come from the live preview he had given during filming a few days earlier into the final version of the song.

he was yet again aided by the same producer that he had been working with before, the one that had so kindly composed the instrumental for him. “you ready?” the man asked through microphone connecting to the recording booth.

“yeah, yeah let’s do this.” jaewon responded, words followed with a half-hearted thumbs up before adjusting the headphones on his head. he looked almost confident in the whole thing.

almost.

#fmdos1 #*:･ﾟ♛– «filled with all these empty moments» // solos.#«our songs // era.»

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edosianorchids901 · 5 years

Note

“I can tell you’re lying.” angst

Thank you so much for the prompt!

Read on AO3 - there’s something horrifically broken with Tumblr’s mobile formatting and it refuses to let me fix it, so AO3 is likely your best bet if you’re on mobile.

Julian stormed down the corridors of their capturedJem’Hadar ship. Garak had gone too far this time, he really had. Months of jibesand passive aggressive remarks, and now this. Enough. It stopped now.

He turned the corner and found Garak already working. “Ah,Doctor. Good. I could use a hand with this power grid. It doesn’t seem to likeme, and we are on a tight repair schedule.”

Repair schedule bedamned. “We need to talk.”

Garak peered at him over a half-removed panel. “What we needis to complete these repairs. Or have you forgotten that we’re on a Jem’Hadarship with no warp capability? You were the one who made the calculations, afterall. Seventeen years, two months, and three days to Federation space, Ibelieve.”

“It’s about that, actually.”

“Oh?” Lips pursed, Garak peeled the panel off and set itdelicately on the floor. “Did your genetically enhanced mind malfunction? Aglitch in the code somewhere, perhaps?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I believe the question is what’s wrong with you, my dearDoctor.”

“Don’t you ‘dear Doctor’ me,” Julian clenched his fists andstruggled to keep his tone level. It came out flat instead. “How dare you. Howdare you say things like that to me. Is your mind really so twisted that youthink it’s acceptable?”

Garak turned, taking on a combative stance. His gaze lockedon Julian’s with a startling intensity. “Whatever are you talking about?”

Now he was playing games? “I’m talking about all your damnedinsinuations. The smug, superior attitude that makes people like me sounpopular? The computer agrees with me because we think alike? Remember?”

Garak snorted. “Really, Julian. Is now the time to discussyour insecurities?”

“If you know they’re insecurities, why do you keep poking atthem?”

“You do recall you’re dating a Cardassian?” Sharp impatienceflashed in Garak’s eyes. “Cardassians argue quite frequently with our partners.And have you forgotten how you responded to my mention of your smug superiority?You certainly seemed to recognize the remark as a flirtation then, judging byhow quickly you removed my clothes.”

Heat suffused Julian’s entire body, heartbeat pounding inhis ears. “You’re an absolute asshole, you know that?”

“I believe you were well acquainted with me before we begandating. And now you take exception?”

“This is different!”

“What is different?” Garak tipped his jaw back and gaveJulian the look he usually reserved for his most frustrating customers. “Ourenvironment, certainly. Ah, but that’s not it. Of course. It’s that you’ve lostyour mask.”

What the hell was he on about now? “My mask?”

“You’re quite exposed these days, all your secrets scatteredto the wind. Perhaps it’s simply that you miss being able to hide.”

“You would know all about hiding, wouldn’t you? You’re doingit right now.” Julian stepped closer, right into Garak’s personal space.“You’re still hiding behind insults and passive aggressive remarks.”

“Oh, I’ve stepped quite beyond passive aggressive and into purely‘aggressive’, as have you.” Garak flashed a bright, patronizing smile. “Andwhat dark secret am I hiding from, Doctor? Tell me, since you seem to havepsychoanalyzed me. What childhood trauma do you plan to unearth this time?”

Julian’s throat went dry, and he struggled to get the wordsout. “Actually, I’d like to talk about my own childhood trauma.”

Garak stepped back, his own mask shattering under confusion.“That’s hardly the topic.”

“No, it is the topic. It’s been the topic all this time, allthese months. It’s just not on the surface.” Julian squared his shoulders. “So,let’s bring it to the surface.”

Silence descended in the corridor, only broken by irritablebeeps from the still-damaged power grid. Then Garak gave a bow, sweeping hisarms wide. “I am at your disposal, Doctor.”

“Still with all the glib bullshit. Drop it.” This was it.The question that sat between them at meals, shared their bed, lurked behindevery exchange. “Does it bother you that I’m genetically enhanced?”

Hesitation. Just a split second of hesitation. “Of coursenot, Julian.”

So, that was it. Julian’sthroat throbbed, and his stomach twisted. “I can tell you’re lying,” he said, holdingeye contact.

Garak was the one who looked away. “My dear, I—”

“I’m not even sure if you realize it.” Each breath becamemore of a struggle, and Julian leaned against the wall. Cold metal leeched heatfrom his body, and he shivered. “Do you realize it, Garak? Is your crueltyintentional or is it subconscious?”

“My cruelty?” Garak’s lip quivered and he gave a small headshake. “No, I was merely—”

“Don’t deny it. Just tell me the truth. Just this once.”

Motions slow and deliberate, Garak disconnected theremaining wiring. “It is…an adjustment,” he finally said.

As if Julian hadn’t been plunged into his own adjustmentthese past months, hadn’t spent every waking moment feeling the stares, thewhispers… “An adjustment.”

“Perhaps not an adjustment I’ve handled particularly well.”None of his usual theatrics permeated Garak’s manner. His tone was low, expressionthoughtful. Something—remorse, perhaps—flashed across his face. “I believe I’vebeen attempting to deny my discomfort.”

“You are damn good at denial.” Julian hugged his armstighter across his chest. Damn it, he should have brought this up months ago,back when he’d noticed the shift in Garak’s behavior. Garak wasn’t breaking upwith him yet, so this was already going better than expected. Should have just gottenit out of the way sooner. “You didn’t notice that you’ve been sniping at me formonths?”

Garak winced, still fiddling with the wires. “As I said, I wassomewhat in denial. Whatever my own troubles with the situation, they pale incomparison to your own. I know I haven’t been the most supportive—”

“I’m not worried about that, not right now.” In a way, theso-called support had been even worse. The cheery attempts to act like nothingwas wrong, the tentativeness. “I just want to have an open conversation withyou.”

Garak’s expression closed like an airlock during suddendecompression. “If that’s what you desire, you may have chosen the wrongpartner.”

Damn him. “Really? Is that it, then? Are we finished?”

The sudden panic in Garak’s eyes brought Julian moresatisfaction than he’d have ever cared to admit. Served him right. He should bepanicking, after all the suffering he’d inflicted.

“Fine, you want an open conversation?” Garak asked. “It doesbother me. For months, I’ve been asking myself who—or what—I fell in love with.Did that person really exist? Or were you merely a construct of your parents’hopes and dreams? I even questioned whether you’d been specifically programmedto appeal to me, perhaps as some sort of covert operation. After all, youappear to be everything I find attractive.”

It was like being pummeled repeatedly in the chest. “Howcould you possibly think that? Are you really that paranoid?”

Garak rolled his eyes. “You hardly need to ask thatquestion.”

No. No more damned evasion. “I do need to ask.”

To his credit, Garak didn’t look away this time. “Then, yes.I’ve spent these last months wondering who Julian Bashir truly is. Whether the personI love is a fabrication. Whether you are who you claim to be. Whether I knowwho you are at all.”

An odd sound burst from Julian. Laughter.

Garak stared at him as if he’d sprouted several additionallimbs. “Julian?”

“Oh, this is just too damn much.” Julian shook his head. Heshould have expected this, should have seen it. It was a perfectly reasonablething to wonder, really. But coming from Garak?

“What is too damn much?”

Julian fixed him with a direct look. “Don’t you think I’veever wondered the same thing about you? Elim Garak, the plain simple tailor.Except that you’re not at all. And you lie for fun, Garak. At least I was only lying for self-protection.”

Garak drew back, expression as wounded as if Julian hadslapped him. “After all this time, do you understand me so little?”

No matter how long they knew each other, he’d likely neverunderstand Garak. At least, not fully. “In what sense?”

The power grid gave another insistent beep. Garak slowlydisconnected the last wire, brow ridges casting deep shadows over his eyes.When he spoke, it was in a tight, strained voice. “Has it ever occurred to youthat perhaps I lie, not merely for entertainment, but because telling the truthhas never been safe for me either?”

The gap between them closed before Julian even realized hewas moving. He pulled Garak into a hug and buried his face against cool scales.

Garak stiffened in his hold, not breathing. Then he put hisarms around Julian and gave a low hum.

“I miss you.” Julian’s voice cracked, and he cleared histhroat. “I miss how things were. I’m still Julian.”

Oddly, Garak chuckled. “Just with an additional lightsprinkling of trauma?”

More than a light sprinkling, but the joke lifted some ofthe heaviness from Julian’s chest. “Something like that, yeah.”

Garak detached from the embrace, his expression unusuallyopen. “I’ve missed you as well.”

Enough heavy conversation—that admission was enough for now.“Well, now that we’ve sorted out our own respective crises…shall we fix thispower grid before the Jem’Hadar blow us up?” Julian asked with a tight smile.

“A wise precaution.” Garak bent over his work, and Julianjoined him. They could sort out the rest later, when things quieted down.

#garashir #garak x bashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek #deep space nine #ds9 #prompted writing #plain simple writing

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seductresses-temple · 5 years

Text

Figuring Things Out

So, most people that follow me wouldn’t know this unless they’ve been following my main blog ( @glo-up-goddess) for an absurd amount of time but I actually created my main page when I was in a really dark place. I was spiraling and struggling with depression as I fell deeper and deeper into an abusive relationship. The night I made my main page I was actually at my abuser’s bedside while they were in the hospital for a week and the moment I left just to run home and shower, grab a change of clothes, they had “the other woman” swing by and out the door in the forty minutes I was gone. I turned to Tumblr out of a mixture of insomnia, helplessness, and desperation. Never in my life would I have imagined starting a second blog, a Drarry blog for all my writing, and never would I have suspected that I would grow to meet such lovely people and make such wonderful friends. But I did! As I watch my following continue to grow and far surpass my wildest dreams, I’m filled with so much renewed love for the beautiful, tremendous souls I have encountered within the fandom over the years. So many of you have touched my life both knowingly and unknowingly and I am forever grateful for you all. This story is dedicated to @xx-thedarklord-xx someone whos work has been a great source of joy for me in some incredibly dark times. So, since I know you like Blairon? Raise? Bon? I have no idea what the hell their ship name would be, but I wrote you some Blaise/Ron, Sam, because your work has been really important to me, specifically this past year as I’ve been figuring some things out for myself. So, without further ado:

Figuring Things Out

Pairing: Blaise Zabini/ Ron Weasley, background Drarry, Pansmione, and Linny

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mildly dubious consent (Ron was drunk when something happened but he did know what he was doing even if he was totally embarrassed by it after the fact because of all the confusing implications. But I still feel like it warrants a warning).

“When Gin first told me her and Harry broke up, well, I hate to admit I was a bit sad, you know? Harry’s like a brother to me and just about the only bloke I thought I could trust my little sister with but sometimes things don’t work out the way you expect it to. Harry ran off with the Ferret and insists he’s people now just because he’s his husband. ‘Mione and I split and clearly Harry gave her way too many ideas ‘cause she goes and marries the scariest witch of her age, yeah, I’m looking at you, Parkinson! But today, I am proud, honored, and delighted to be standing by my sister’s side as she brings the loveliest, most pure-hearted witch into our family,” Ron raised his glass, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Everyone, please raise your glasses for a toast to Mrs.Ginny and Luna Lovegood!”

The Great Hall burst into a roar of laughter, congratulations, and clinking glasses, and even with his heart with nothing but love for those around him, Ron couldn’t help feeling the nagging loneliness settling over him like a second skin with guilt following after it like a wet blanket. He should be able to stay happy for the entire day. He was happy. His little sister just got married, to the love of her life, and he was happy for her. Honest. But, it didn’t change the fact that as the years went on Ron just felt...left behind.

When Draco and Harry had eloped, that was one thing. They’d left for a Potions Masters conference in France that Draco had to attend and came back as Harry and Draco Malfoy-Potter. It was spur of the moment and easier to keep it out of the press was the excuse they’d given everyone but anyone that knew them knew they were just young, in love, and passionately reckless. They had a small, intimate ceremony among friends to celebrate (and apologize) and lived their life as the first newlyweds in the friend group. It had been fine, even when Ron and Hermione had broken up and Ron was a bachelor for the first time since he was a teenager.

Ron kept telling himself it was for the best which was true. Ron and Hermione had realized their relationship was going nowhere. They still loved each other, of course they did. The two of them had so much history together, that wasn’t going to go away overnight, but they didn’t love each other that way anymore. They noticed it slowly at first, the distance, the ‘going through the motions’ of it all, and then it hit them all at once watching Draco and Harry together, so in love, and building something great. Ron and Hermione had love for each other but they hadn’t been in love for a long time and after a long, difficult talk, they both agreed they needed more and deserved better.

Six months down the line Hermione had her first date with Pansy, on a stupid dare from Draco.

Four years later they were married and beginning the adoption process. Hermione’s version of ‘more’ was a happy wife, a Ministry job where she was making real change, and twin four year old boys that kept her and Pansy more than busy.

Now Ginny and Luna were sailing away into their ‘Happy Ever After.’

It seemed like the only one that couldn’t find their happy ending was Ron.

Needing just a quick reprieve from the festivities, Ron slipped away while his mum and Hermione were both smothering Ginny and Luna with hugs and words of ‘married woman wisdom’ or whatever it was they were doing. He inhaled deeply, stepping out onto the front lawn of Hogwarts and just basking in the familiarity of it all. With Luna being the new Divination professor it just seemed natural to have the wedding at a place that meant so much to everyone in attendance but Ron hadn’t been back at Hogwarts in years. While Hermione had been adamant about attending their ‘8th year,’ Ron decided his time was better spent at the joke shop with George. It started out as a way to keep an eye on his older brother after they’d lost Fred but, over time, Ron learned he had a knack for business. It was working with George that gave him the courage and confidence to open the Fred Weasley Institute, a small wizarding primary school specifically catered to kids like Fred and George who didn’t get on so well with traditional learning but were still bloody fucking brilliant. It was small, but, Ron thought Fred would have been pretty damn proud.

“Ah, lucky, me. I stumble out for a smoke and a breath of fresh air and who do I find but the handsomest Weasley? Course Potter thinks Charlie’s the heartthrob of the family but he married Draco, it’s quite clear he has poor taste in men,” a voice drawled from behind him. Ron didn’t have to look back to know it was Blaise Zabini and he quietly cursed at every deity he could think of in the thirty seconds it took Zabini to stride over to him.

“Zabini,” Ron was pleased his voice cooperated with him just enough to not crack, waver, or squeak. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from doing anything monumentally stupid like he had the last time he’d been alone with the git.

“Back to a last name basis, are we?” Zabini purred, stalking around him slowly like an animal on the prowl until they were face to face, his deep brown eyes shining with an intensity that always seemed to root Ron to wherever he stood.

Ron cleared his throat, trying desperately and failing miserably to pretend that Blaise Zabini hadn’t been making him question his sexuality for the past year. “S’not like we’re friends,” he muttered for lack of anything better to say.

Zabini tsked, smirking down at him “Well true, but still, if a man has had your cock in his mouth at one point or another, you’d think you could do him the decency of calling him by his given name. I sullied a perfectly good pair of trousers getting down on my knees for you at the Leaky that night, Ronald,” Zabini tsked again and all Ron could do was groan, immediately feeling his ears and face go hot.

It had been one time!

So what if Ron still thought about the look in Zabini’s eyes when he’d slid down to his knees and asked him if he was sure. And so what if Ron still sometimes thought about that incredible thing Zabini knew how to do with his tongue. It didn’t matter. It had all been a drunken mistake fueled by a single man’s jealousy after Harry had to leave the Leaky early to take his very drunk husband home. He had been completely sloshed and ranting to Zabini about how everyone was moving on, getting married, and he was single, hadn’t had a date in ages, and hadn’t had sex in Merlin only knew how long...next thing he knew...he was in a bathroom stall having a very serious, very slurred conversation with his subconscious as Zabini made him come so hard he saw stars.

He then proceeded to ignore Zabini’s existence for an entire year.

The only person he ever told was Hermione because Harry did silly things like tell his husband everything and that didn’t work out in Ron’s favor when his husband just happened to be the best friend of the man Ron was trying to avoid! He had no idea why he hadn’t anticipated Zabini being at the wedding. He and Ginny were actually quite good friends nowadays and of course he’d get invited because of Draco and Harry if nothing else. Ron just hadn’t expected him to stroll out to the front lawn in an all black suit that looked perfectly tailored to his body, with his locs swept up into the most perfect bun Ron had ever seen, smelling like sandalwood and tangerines and...Ron groaned again, wishing the ground would swallow him up or the Giant Squid would just reach up and chuck him into the Great Lake.

“I like that other noise you make,” Zabini murmured against Ron’s ear.

Ron hadn’t even realized how close he’d gotten, too caught up in the cataclysmic meltdown going on in his head.

“Well, I should be heading back before the Grand Divas known as Pansy and Draco wonder where I’ve gone off to, but, here,” Zabini slipped something into his breast pocket before placing an oddly chaste kiss to his cheek and sauntering back into the castle as if none of it had happened.

Gobsmacked, Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Zabini’s number was written on the front and, turning it over, there was a small message on the back:

When you’ve got it all figured out, give me a ring. -Z

Ron smiled despite himself, slipping the card back into his pocket and heading back into his sisters wedding reception. He had no idea whether he’d call Zabini or not, but, he supposed he was in the process of figuring things out.

#blaise zabini #ronald weasley #blairon #bon #raise?#what the hell would their ship name be?#There is a ship name for Harry x Voldemort #Pottermort #Tomarry #There is a ship name for Snape x Harry #Snarry #This isn't to ship shame anyone #My point is someone needs to put some respect on my bbs Ron and Blaise's names and give them a proper and universally agreed upon ship name #anyway #there is implied drarry #implied pansmione #implied linny #errybody gay #gay af #Blaise subtly dragging Draco is the best thing ever #A flustered Ron Weasley is an extra cute Ron Weasley #Ron is a bisexual mess #He's getting it together tho #or trying to #this was my first time ever writing for Blaise so extensively #or Ron for that matter #I hope it didn't suck #also I wrote this off my phone so don't drag it if theres errors and shit #okay i'm done rambling now #the harry potter fandom is dope

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dontshootmespence · 6 years

Text

The Course of Love Never Did Run Smooth

A/N: A request from @queenanneslace4 for a modern royal arranged marriage AU with Spencer x Reader. It’s modern day, fake countries and old fashioned rules. Given the situation, they are not happy with each other or the arrangement at first, but after a while, feelings begin to bloom.

Modern takes on royal clothing - Spencer’s suit. / The reader’s dress.

-----

Maybe there would be a day when she didn’t have security following four steps behind her every single day, but apparently today was not that day and tomorrow wasn’t looking very promising either.

As she sat in front of the vanity her parents, the King and Queen of Eskea, had so kindly bestowed upon her and brushed her hair, she could sense the heavy footsteps of the guards outside her bedroom. At 23, she desperately wanted to go out on her own and not have giant bodyguards shadowing her, but that was what her life entailed and although she was sometimes wistful, she had long since accepted her fate.

Knock. Knock.

“Who is it?”

“Your favorite Queen in the whole world.”

Smiling to herself, she placed the brush down on the vanity. “Come in, Mother.”

Rarely did her father join her mother when visiting her bedroom, so as soon as she noticed her father’s larger than life frame hovering hesitatingly behind her mother, she knew something was different. “What is it?”

“Why does it have to be anything?” Her mother asked.

They were never any good at lying or keeping secrets. “Because Father never comes into my bedroom and you’re both being squirrelly.”

The Queen gazed warily back at her husband. “Okay, we do have something to tell you, but you’re not going to like it, Y/N.”

She took a deep breath and braced herself, but she never expected what came out of her father’s mouth.

“Your mother and I have managed to broker a peace between the Eskea and Lasmye.” Okay...that was a good thing. Her country had been on the brink of war with Lasmye for centuries. In a modern world with tensions far and wide, Europe seemed to be fairly stable except for their two countries.

“And?”

“We did that by betrothing you to Lasmye’s Prince - Spencer Reid.”

She felt a stabbing pain in her stomach as her breath caught in her chest. This couldn’t be. It was the one thing they promised to never do to her - betroth her against her will. “You promised?!” She yelled, standing up and backing away from the two people she used to trust more than anything. “You promised!”

“Eskea and Lasmye were mere weeks away from war. Both of our countries would lose countless innocent lives. Since your father and I were brought together in the same way, and the Prince of Lasmye is a good man, we felt it was the only way to save our countries from extinction. You will learn to love each other.” She spoke the words confidently, but her eyes betrayed her fear - her fear of their country’s future and the future of her relationship with her daughter.

For a moment, Y/N just processed the information, unable to comprehend the betrayal she was assured would never happen. When her parents attempted to step forward and console her, she backed away. “Don’t!”

Spinning around, she ran out of the door, followed closely of course by her trusty bodyguards, assuring she’d never truly have a moment alone to process her future.

-----

In Lasmye, Prince Spencer Reid was told of his own betrothal. Given Queen Diana’s status as the sole ruling monarch, she had been having trouble keeping her country in order, and with age came exhaustion. She was tired of holding it together all on their own.

The prince was less than pleased, having told his mother time and time again that he wanted to choose his future queen himself, but he knew better than to fight his mother.

This was not going to fun.

With the announcement of their betrothal came a ball to celebrate the occasion. The nobles as well as some of the common folk from each country would be invited to celebrate while the betrothed did their best not to kill each other and take their countries down at the same time.

Looking in the mirror, he took in the outfit his mother had suggested wearing. The purple velvet blazer was tailored perfectly to his frame, as was every other item of clothing. Nothing less for the Prince of Lasmye. Black pants, a white shirt, a thin black tie and smooth, black leather gloves completed the ensemble, as did the epaulette on his shoulder, depicting his family crest.

When he heard a knock, he called his mother in.

“You look very handsome, Spencer.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

She could see how miserable he was, but their countries were in danger and she knew he would step up to the plate. “Princess Y/N is a good woman. I know you will come to love her in time.”

“I’m not so sure, but I’ll do my best for Lasmye.”

It was all she could ask. Linking her arm in his, she walked with him toward the grand hall to meet his future queen.

-----

She’d barely spoken to her mother and father in the ensuing weeks and now that the night of the ball was here - the night she would meet the man she was supposed to spend her life with - she couldn’t even look at them. She would do as they asked, for the sake of the country she loved if nothing else, but the idea of being married to a man she didn’t know, whether he had good intentions or no, made her queasy.

“Your dress!”

She spun around to see one of the citizens that she had invited from the marketplace personally. “You look so beautiful, Princess!”

“Please, Laila,” she replied. “Call me Y/N.”

“Only when not in the presence of your royal court, Princess.”

If nothing else good came of this night, her dress would stand out. Delicate light gray lace with an organza overlay served as the backdrop for a twirling rainstorm of pink flowers bursting from the corset. One delicate bubble in the skirt and a bow to accentuate it all had her looking every part the princess. Though it was customary to have her hair done up tight and adorned with jewels, she insisted on something comfortable. It was the least her parents could allow her considering her current situation.

“Announcing, Prince Spencer Reid of Lasmye,” the man on the balcony called. Y/N glanced upward to see him waving warmly to the crowd below. She’d seen him before on occasion, but never in formal attire. Thankfully, he cleaned up nicely, his normally messy hair tied back elegantly.

With her parents on either side, she held her head high. She was not in the situation she wanted, but she would be damned if she didn’t keep her confidence in the eyes of the public. “Princess Y/N of Eskea and Prince Spencer of Lasmye!” He said happily, joining their hands together. Both royals took a bow before making an announcement about their engagement. As good royals did, they lied and left their public waiting anxiously for the upcoming wedding.

In the round of applause and celebration that followed, Y/N and Spencer slipped outside into the courtyard with both sets of bodyguards following closely behind. “Don’t try and court me now, Spencer,” Y/N snapped when she glanced up to see his hand outstretched to help her down the stairs. She ignored his help and glided down the steps on her own.

“Just trying to help,” he said despondently. “No need to be curt about it.”

“No need to be curt? I’m being married off to a man I don’t know. I’m allowed to be curt.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. Neither of them wanted to be in this situation. “As I’m being married to a woman I don’t know. You don’t see me being rude about it.”

“Because Prince Spencer Reid is the perfect man in all the kingdoms,” she said facetiously. Floating toward the courtyard, she sat on a bench specifically so that he had no room to join her.

“What is wrong with you?” He asked. “I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation. I’m marrying a shrew.”

“Excuse you?”

“Bottled spider,” he mumbled under his breath.

She cut her eyes at him and stood up. “Did you just call me a bottled spider?”

“Caught in a bottle she doesn’t want to be in and full of venom? It seems fitting,” he sneered.

“At least you’re intelligent,” she mused. “I’m a fan of Shakespeare myself. I prefer Othello though.”

“Richard the III and Hamlet are favorites, though I imagine I’ll be getting more acquainted with The Taming of the Shrew.”

“There’s small choice in rotten apples.”

-----

Neither Spencer nor Y/N was happy with their arrangement, however, their shared love of Shakespeare made things a bit more bearable. Just four weeks after the ball, they were married in front of both of their kingdoms and according to her parents as well as Queen Diana, the tensions between the two countries had since died down.

The marriage had not been consummated and they were rarely in the same room together, but as the weeks went on, both found themselves easing into life as a married couple, trading Shakespearean insults as they passed each other in the hallways.

Somehow, insults turned to the play itself. When she walked into the kitchen, Spencer was making some toast and had plated some for her as well. “You made me toast? That’s something a husband would do.”

“Well, I am your husband, and dare I say my wife is grating on my nerves as much anymore.”

Y/N laughed under her breath and took the toast. “You sure know how to woo a woman.”

“Who said I am trying to woo you?”

“You are,” she said. It wasn’t a thought she hated anymore, but somehow she felt like they were doing things completely out of order.

“Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.”

“True, Benedick.” Much Ado About Nothing. If they started quoting Romeo and Juliet to each other she might vomit.

-----

Nearly six months of their marriage passed while the two attempted to love each other. They slept in separate rooms and between royal meetings and events they spent time together, watching movies, walking in the courtyard and talking about the paths that led them to their present. At the end of one night, he walked her to her bedroom down the hallway from his and peeked inside. “Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”

“I think I may throw up a little,” she laughed. “Good night, wife.”

“Good night, husband.”

Where did it come from? This thing called love.

“How did I come to care for such an annoying man?” She asked as the morning sun shone into their kitchen.

Spencer smiled. “I guess I’m like herpes.”

“Keep coming back but I make do?” She laughed.

“Pretty much. I wouldn’t love my herpes though.”

“You love me?” They’d come a long way since hating each other’s existence.

She nearly threw up in her mouth as she spoke. “I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest."

“You’re gross,” he laughed. “But so am I. The course of love never did run smooth. I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

“Did you just quote A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest to me?”

“I did, what are you going to do about it,” he smirked.

“Nothing. I think I just fell a little harder.”

“We’re like the modern day Katherine and Petruchio,” he said, toasting his toast in her direction.

She returned the gesture. “Except better.”

“Definitely better.”

@prettyboyeffect @jamiemelyn @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @rmmalta @lukeassmanalvez @kalie-bee @veroinnumera @lookwhatyoumademequeue @cynbx @tippy06 @smolldork @marvelouslyme96 @literallyprentissstwin @adropintheocean1234567 @skrrrrrrrrrrt @mysticpansy @tenaciousarcadeexpert @jason-gideon-is-my-dad @dionnaea @boywonderspencer @multifandomizer @hogwarts-konoha @girlscrushes @bucky-smiles @ggyolo17 @chickenstringlights @sebba-hiddles @hellaqueerangelofthelord @princess-criminal @jae-sch @likeamothtothedark

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #dontshootmespence #the course of love never did run smooth

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geneticandunattainable · 6 years

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There’s a clear bend toward electronic music late in this cluster, but the group overall spans multiple genres, including rock, R&B, and even a cinematic pop behemoth. Now that we’re in the top twenty songs of the entire year, we’re discussing tracks that I may have listened to more than two hundreds times apiece.

20. Middle Kids – “Your Love” These three musicians from Sydney are still getting their careers off the ground, as they’ve only released an EP at this point; given the strength of the song “Your Love,” we should get used to hearing from them for years to come. The song is practically filled with hooks, and makes for an entirely delightful listen. Singer Hannah Joy, backed by her husband/bassist Tim Fitz and drummer Harry Day, effortlessly blends genres with her captivating vocals. Many critics deemed them as the intersection between independent rock and alternative country, but I hear more rock here than anything else. “Your Love” certainly has some pop structure, though with more genuine bite than you’d typically hear on the radio, and the production is inventive, building and crashing over and over throughout the track. Ultimately, there’s something timeless about the song’s sound, and could easily be a lost gem from the ‘80s even though it was released last spring.

19. Sammy Brue – “I’m Not Your Man” Sure, the vocal sounds young - even strained. Sammy Brue is clearly still coming into his voice, but not as an artist...as an actual adult. Brue was only 15 when he wrote and recorded his debut album, and this track specifically is a total jam. His sound may not be for everyone, but one of the producers on this debut album was John Paul White - better known as half of the brilliant alt-country duo The Civil Wars. There’s no question that he has the pedigree behind him, and his razor-sharp songwriting skills are unquestionable. His lyrics feel contemporary, but the sound is ripped from decades past. Clearly Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan served as inspirations, but comparisons to Nirvana would be appropriate, too. Brue is only going to get stronger from here, and continues to hone his folk/rock sound as he works with more musicians, including Justin Townes Earle and Lucinda Williams, just like a true prodigy.

18. Alice Merton – “No Roots” Alice Merton moved 24 times in only twelve years, leading to a feeling of complete isolation after bouncing around between Canada, the UK, Germany, and the States. The longest that I’ve ever held one address is about five years, and my tally stands at just over two dozen moves in 33 years, so it should come as no surprise that I deeply relate to this song. Merton swears that she had no idea it would become as popular as it did, landing her at the top of the charts for alternative rock; she’s the first solo female artist to top said chart since Lorde in 2014. There’s an outstanding blend of genres here, with some funk percolating underneath the snarling bassline and the electronic-tinged breakdown in the latter third of the track. One of the best aspects of the song, though, is the message; most people have a distinct place to imagine when thinking of the concept of ‘home.’ What’s clear to listeners here is that Merton lacks that experience, and that her perception of home is abstract at best when most can easily conjure that image. For someone who shares that experience, I couldn’t be happier to sing along every time.

17. Carly Rae Jepsen – “Cut to the Feeling” There’s really no other way around it: Carly Rae Jepsen has quickly skyrocketed to the top of the list for pop stars who can consistently churn out high quality singles. Part of the reason for her success, besides her obsession with 80’s-style synths, is that she refuses to lean into the darker side of pop that we’ve witnessed in recent years. Jepsen isn’t concerned with mocking ex-boyfriends, frenemies, or rivals; her music centers around effervescent joie de vivre more than most of her contemporaries. Essentially, her main goal is the distill the concept of euphoria into three or four minutes of blissful melodies. The first thirty seconds of the track are unlike most on the radio right now, starting with synth that sounds bizarrely similar to the opening notes of Madonna’s “Lucky Star.” Any comparisons stop there, though, as the tightly measured handclap beat works perfectly with Jepsen’s syncopated vocals. Nearly every review comments on how it was cut from her last full album, E•MO•TION, because it felt too ‘cinematic;’ my only regret is that it was wasted on a film as forgettable as Ballerina/Leap!, an animated dance movie for children that had various names based on the country where it was released. This is a song that bottles sunshine, and should have been a juggernaut for Jepsen. Luckily for fans, her next studio album is due in early 2018.

16. George Taylor – “I Hear Your Song, Sweetness” UK-based singer/songwriter George Taylor came out of nowhere in 2017 with this ode for other undiscovered artists. For a guy who just released his debut album last year, he shows remarkably strong instincts on this track. He knows when to dial back the production and when to complicate things. Perhaps my favorite part of the song, though, is the lyrics; Taylor pierces through the aggressive initial production with his supportive, damn near inspirational theme for the up-and-coming musicians out there who feel like they aren’t even being heard. The 24 year old grew up in Leicester before relocating to London, and claims he’s been writing songs since he was 13. Clearly he has a natural talent, as the vacillation between isolated vocals on the verses and thundering, riotous choruses serves to make the song that much more dramatic. It’s only a matter of time before we start seeing this song crop up in films and television, as it seems almost tailor-made for soundtracks.

15. Calvin Harris feat. Frank Ocean and Migos – “Slide” If I’m being completely honest, I first discovered this song on an HBO commercial for season two of Insecure (a personal favorite). Regardless of one’s opinion on Calvin Harris, the main appeal for me was hearing Frank Ocean on such a radio-friendly single. Ocean and Harris deftly make an entry to the recent genre of nu-disco, slyly combining hip-hop and dance music with a piano-driven song that may surprise the audience purely off of the talent roster. Calvin Harris, Frank Ocean, and rappers Quavo and Offset from hip-hop trio Migos all come together despite their own distinctive discographies. It’s expertly crafted, but let’s be honest here - the second that Ocean starts singing, he steals the track from everyone else involved. If you’re looking for breezy, SoCal hip hop, this is for you, but that description seems almost limiting considering what was achieved here. For those of us who are consistently looking for new Frank Ocean tracks, “Slide” is a pleasant surprise.

14. Electric Guest – “Oh Devil” LA-based duo Electric Guest - which becomes a full band on tour - had a relatively forgettable sophomore album last year. The major standout for me, though, was this playful track that utilizes its electronic production to toy with the arrangement constantly throughout its three and a half minute running time. Perhaps the most interesting fact about Electric Guest is that it’s forwarded by Asa Taccone, the younger brother of Jorma Taccone - famous for being a member of The Lonely Island, along with appearances on shows like Girls and Parks and Rec. Asa helped compose a lot of the music for The Lonely Island, which led to Jorma putting him in touch with Brian Burton (otherwise known to the world as Danger Mouse). Long story short, Taccone now works with Matthew Compton, who supplies drums for their work and met Taccone through Burton, to create songs under the name Electric Guest. “Oh Devil” merges pop, electronic dance, and R&B with some clear Caribbean influences, as well. There’s a lot to like here, and if all you’re looking for is an earworm that comes out of left field, then this song is the one for you.

13. SZA – “20 Something” Solána Rowe had an incredible 2017, and released one of the biggest debut albums of the entire year under her stage name SZA. Given the success of “All the Stars,” her collaboration with Kendrick Lamar on the Black Panther soundtrack, it seems like 2018 is going to be a huge year, too. This success didn’t come overnight, though. Rowe has been working her way up for years, slowly gaining influences as diverse as Rihanna, Björk, Miles Davis, and Animal Collective. Her R&B has a stripped down quality, especially on album standout “20 Something;” there is a poignant simplicity on display that translates the anguish and anxiety of your 20s perfectly. It becomes clear quickly that Rowe expects a certain level of self-reflection and commitment to growth from her audience. As she notes in the lyrics, “Honesty hurts when you’re getting older.” Perhaps my favorite touch doesn’t even come from SZA herself, but her mother, who is heard at the end of the track giving advice to her daughter. Essentially, she says that one must commit to whatever feels true in life, because the alternative is a complete abyss. I couldn’t agree more.

12. Litany – “Bedroom” I may have noted the Caribbean influences on “Oh Devil,” but you can practically smell the jerk spices on this gorgeous electronic track from English duo Litany. Made up of Beth Cornell on vocals and Jake Nicolaides producing, the 23-year-olds from North Yorkshire have nailed the atmosphere on “Bedroom,” employing steel drums, synths, and a steady, consistent beat that buries itself inside your head for days to come. As the track progresses, Nicolaides plays with the beat and the production more and more, adding percussive texture and - dare I even say it? - crunch to the arrangement. Cornell’s vocals are ethereal, giving the song a hazy vibe, which add to the symbolic lyrics that seem to tie the titular bedroom to the paradise implied from the production. All of it combines to create an experience of escapism, fleeing the monotony of everyday life and conversations about the weather for the idyllic bedroom. For such young artists with only a handful of releases under their belts, the production on “Bedroom” is stunning in its professionalism.

11. Bayonne – “Fallss” I know, I know... another electronic song. Another track that effortlessly builds with synths, drum loops, and vocals, and captures your attention almost immediately. But with a song this strong, can you even blame me for including it? Austin-based artist Bayonne (legal name Roger Sellers) insists he’s not a DJ. He grew up obsessed with Eric Clapton and his guitar from the age of three on, and his first concert was Phil Collins at the ripe old age of nine. Clearly he learned guitar and drums from two of the best musicians of the last half century, but I doubt you’ll hear their influences on “Fallss.” Sellers isn’t a DJ, but he uses a lot of the same tools, including mixers, pedals, and keyboards, to create his massive pop tracks. The sounds he’s working with here rise and evolve and build throughout the song, as the layers of synth and other sonic strands slowly weave together, worming their way into your head. Sellers spoke to the lyrical meaning of the song, noting that it came from the huge life transition of being in his late-20s and starting to transition to music as a full time career. To quote him directly, “It's the bittersweet ride that comes with big changes in life.” We’ve all been through it the past few years, and the last six months alone have included, personally, a new job and moving across the country. Trust me, this song was keeping me company the entire time.

#Music #Best of 2017 #Best Songs of 2017 #Middle Kids #Sammy Brue #Alice Merton #Carly Rae Jepsen #George Taylor #Calvin Harris #Frank Ocean #Migos #Electric Guest #SZA #Litany #Bayonne

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sinningwithoppa · 6 years

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Retrograde - Chapter 01

Description: Famously titled ‘The Grim Reaper’, you were one of Seoul’s ruthless assassins capable of entirely wiping a person’s existence without a single trace, since to the outside it seemed like you didn’t have an identity, to begin with. But just as you’d finally found your place in this world, it wasn’t long before you realised you had a target on your own back.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of Death, Swearing, Scars, Suicidal thoughts, Blood, Mentions of Abuse, Light Smut kinda???sorta???maybe??? Filthy Descriptions

A/N: Here it is! Our very first fic! I’m so so happy with the direction this fic is going to go in, so I hope you will enjoy it too~

Masterlist || Playlist || Aesthetics || Ch 01

In an otherwise peaceful and ghost-quiet night only you heard the deafening thuds of your heart nearly beating out of your chest with excitement, having pinned one of your more unruly client’s henchmen against a wall in the shadows beneath a bridge on the outskirts of Seoul, not a soul in sight. You’d caught the bastard while he was heading back to their HQ, you assumed, not far away from where you’d intercepted him.

“You’re going to be a good boy for me and you’re going to tell me where your scumbag of a boss is hiding his sad ass, yeah?” you purred with a pleased smirk and hooded eyes as you hiked your knife up the man’s throat, pressing the blade a bit harder into his flesh. If it wasn’t your weapon or reputation that intimidated him, it was your eyes darkening with a practiced murderous glint. You knew he’d be capable of taking you out in the blink of an eye if you let down your guard and fear bubbled angrily in the pit of your stomach but for now, you had to keep up your fearless facade.

“H-He’s handling a deal at The Vibe,” he managed to choke out from his unfortunate position, glaring daggers down at you.

“Atta boy,” you relented and released the pitiful goon, returning his glare as you hid away your knife. His hand shot up to his neck, tracing the irritated skin with a grimace while stepping away from you, eventually turning away and muttering what you suspected to be some variation of the degrading terms you’d heard during the course of your career, before vanishing into the night. You kept your hand poised on the gun hidden on your person until you’d made sure he wasn’t following you. Now to collect what’s mine. You thought determinedly while making your way to one of the many nightclubs the infamous ganglord owned. God knows what less than legal and horrid things happened within their walls but it didn’t phase you.

At least you liked to think that none of it did anymore.

Out of the many millions of people that roamed Seoul, it had to be you, whose life revolved around gripping the cold steel of guns, relentless in taking care of your marks. You were unpredictable, merciless and possessed great prowess wielding a weapon, earning you the title ‘The Grim Reaper’ along with the pleasure of serving those willing to splash tens of thousands on eliminating rivals, occasionally even millions just to watch their backs.

It was just the way it was.

Society ran its cycle, the city bustling with people as they went about their daily lives earning a living and living on what they earned. It was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unexpected. And then there was you, slamming people’s heads into walls hard enough that tiles cracked on impact, wielding deadly weapons, knuckles dried with blood and fighting to live another day; the underworld hidden in plain sight. There were organizations after the exact same things, and with competition came rivalry, and with rivalry came your purpose; evening out the playing field for those affluent enough to afford it. Of course, you had your own personal share of enemies but they hadn’t proven to be anything more but bumps along the road.

What a shame for them that you worked with the best.

Ironically, you hadn’t chosen this life yourself, but you were forced into it, just like so many others. You’d lost your parents to crime and your new home had found you wandering the streets. A gang had taken you in as one of their own but definitely not from the goodness of their hearts. It had been more of an investment than anything. They trained you in combat to later use you to deal with rival gangs and send you on missions they didn’t dare to send more valuable members on, which you, unfortunately, excelled at. You needed to shine in order to live another day.

How disgustingly ironic.

The only benefit you reaped from it all was finding a purpose for your once meaningless life along with your first love, Jimin. He’d given you the affection you’d craved all your life and a reason to live. You’d piqued the ganglord’s interest and soon a passionate romance had blossomed between the two of you, lasting until that one fateful night. Now he was dead and your home had been destroyed. They’d all been killed. Living out in the open forced you to put your skills to use to survive but it lead to you creating your current reputation as one of the best assassins out there.

You grimaced at the suppressed memories of your early years. You didn’t have to scrape by anymore and you didn’t have to deal with people using you against your will. Not anymore.

Soon you’d arrived in the center of Seoul; all you had to do now was find The Vibe in the vibrant clubbing district. The distinct scent of alcohol and pheromones drifted through the air as you maneuvered your way around the drunk, lustful people outside either smoking, switching clubs or heading to their apartments with their one night stands. Something about the way human nature was lured out on nights and in places like these had always drawn you in. The best thrills of your life had taken place in these settings. Your sour memories were wiped away by a particularly bright one that had marked the beginning of a better tomorrow. Years ago you’d met the man that had revived your purpose in a milieu very similar to the one tonight.

With your spirits lifted and your mind refreshed, your eyes landed on your destination. The club looked as packed as ever with people waiting outside to get in, along with the scrutinizing bouncer, whom you specifically remembered despising, doing his job of checking IDs and turning absolutely wasted people away. Why is it never the nice one?

You completely ignored the now irritated clubgoers you’d cut in front of, tilting your head up as a silent greeting to the familiar figure. “I’m here to see Jay,” you muttered to which he responded with a curt nod. “In the back,” he let you in and you immediately started narrowing in on your target.

“Hey, Hoseok,” you smirked as you found him standing in the ambiently lit area outside the room where he liked to conduct business, looking as handsome as ever dressed in his usual tailored suit with perfectly shined boots. His bright orange hair stood out in contrast to his mostly black and white ensemble but not as much as his blaringly luminous smile.

“My my ___ I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” he glanced at you grinning his cheshire smile and drinking up your appearance before returning his gaze to his bloodstained fingers which he was in the process of wiping clean. Looks like I’m not the only one collecting debt. “How can I help you, my darling assassin?” he smiled almost innocently before soiling such an image by bringing your attention back to the bloodied handkerchief being slipped unphased into his suit pocket.

“We might be friends but I still expect to be paid on time,” you pressed, approaching his figure. His hands immediately found purchase on your waist, sinfully kneading the flesh beneath your dark shirt. You both savored the intoxicating sensation of being pressed so close together as the bass thumped in the background, distracting you two from your own pounding hearts. Fuck, he smells like sin incarnate. Even with the distinct odor of death wafting through the air, his signature aroma ravished you.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his words almost lost in the music blaring outside the secret room, “Ever considered the thought that I missed you and wanted to see your beautiful face more often?” he purred, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, drawing a pleased groan out of you. You hummed with satisfaction as you felt one of his hands lift from your waist and slip into one of his pockets.

“You could just ask, you know,” you sighed with a smug smirk as you felt his nose dragging along your neck, his stifled breaths making the hair stand up on your neck.

“Fair enough,” he murmured, bringing his lips back to your ear before placing a feather-light kiss onto your lobe. “I slipped in some extra to make up for my tardiness. Buy yourself something nice for our next job,” he cooed, breathing in your scent, which he found absolutely irresistible, and you could’ve sworn you heard him groan in the back of his throat as he slipped the wad of cash into the back pocket of your jeans, letting his hand linger a bit too long for your taste.

“I’m still not one of your whores, Hoseok,” you asserted with a breathy chuckle, pushing him off of you, cutting your shared moment of indulgence short. You were convinced that your relationship with him was controlled by baser desires more than anything. Over the years you’d grown to like his company in a strange way. He offered you the thrill that you used to numb the fear and let yourself go. Of course, it could prove fatal one day.

“Mm maybe… But it doesn’t stop me from wanting you,” he grinned at the double meaning, eyeing you with a suggestive glint in his eyes. “Such a shame that you’re so damn stubborn about joining Bangtan. We’d take really good care of you, princess,” he purred, cocking his head to the side.

Not much stood in the way of bending to his desires; you were close with a couple of the members, he offered you gratifying missions along with the undeniably intoxicating cocktail of chemicals released by having his tempting lips caressing your skin or his salacious tongue imparting a silent promise of bliss but truthfully speaking, the only way he could get you to join, was to hire you as a bodyguard or earn your loyalty. Problem was you’d most likely decline since you didn’t like to associate with specific gangs. Too risky. As for your loyalty; you found it difficult to give, especially to ganglords. The fewer ties you had, the safer you were. Everything could be ruined again by trusting the wrong people. The last time you’d given your trust blindly was when you had absolutely nothing to lose.

“You’ll take me up on the next hit I texted you about, won’t you?” he pouted, deciding to test the waters a bit by stepping in closer, biting his lip and looking into your eyes, knowing full well how he could play with your heart but you held the key to his. You couldn’t blame him for being so fond of you. You’d never let him down, so you became his favorite assassin. His wish was your command with the right price tag.

“If you keep paying me as generously, as usual, consider me at your disposal,” you smirked and nodded.

“Aahhh, that’s my girl. I’ll need you tomorrow,” he winked and licked his lips, “then on Friday for the job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my guest. See you, sweetheart,” you barely managed to scoff at his racy advances before he had vanished into the room he’d presumably stepped out of for a moment, blood pooling beneath the door as he closed it.

You breathed in the fresh air as you relished in the tranquility of nighttime. You were in your element and you savored peaceful moments like these when you didn’t have to worry about work. Of course, anyone could attack you and many had reasons to do so, but the handgun hidden beneath your black bomber jacket brought you an extra sense of security. In your position close to the top of the food chain though, many didn’t dare touch you, in fear of you living up to your title. In addition, your services were sought after and crossing you usually ended in deals going bad and blood being spilled. You’d worked hard on creating your guise of a fearless killer along with building yourself from the ground up after losing what you’d called home. You had absolutely nothing. And now you were willing to fight tooth and nail to maintain the web of ties to various gangs employing your services and paying handsomely. As ‘The Grim Reaper’ you felt invincible.

[23:49] You: I’m on my way home

You smiled down at your phone, thinking back to a night similar to this one. Little did you know at the time, that your life would be changed forever by a boy initially sent out to kill you.

You’d left Busan, the memories of abuse and violence haunting you every step of the way. You decided to flee to Seoul, knowing you’d find opportunities to use your unfortunate ‘talents’. In the outskirts of the city, even the most dull-witted of people wouldn’t dare to put their lives on the line by going through an arms deal with a completely unfamiliar ganglord to whom you had absolutely no ties. You weren’t stupid, of course, but considering you had nothing lose at this point, there you were, pulling the hood to your jacket over your head and fixing your face mask to further conceal your identity as you silently left the gritty apartment complex with nothing but disappointment weighing down your shoulders. You’d been to the same guy countless times, and the countless times you’d been there’d fortunately never been a problem except him voicing his unneeded opinion about you being a young girl. The moment you realised he wasn’t there your instincts moved you out the door, your mind creating likely scenarios of his disappearance. You ended up at dead but didn’t bother to wonder how.

You didn’t mind the cold, no matter how much it threatened your muscles to stiffen because all you were thinking about was where you were going to spend your next night, just as you had so many nights before. You managed to convince yourself that the clothes on your back kept you warm enough and that you weren’t weak enough to submit to climate. The only thing you had to do was to find somewhere even remotely comfortable to sleep in, or on, and without the imminence of being forcefully dragged out of your slumber, and your eventful day would end.

It was a quiet evening as you walked aimlessly, mentally marking different places as you passed, and it wasn’t until the sudden rush of footsteps behind you that your mind suddenly went into overdrive. In normal circumstances, it could have been a normal citizen strolling behind you, but you were in a gang-infested area and a citizen strolling through here would be far from normal. Part of you told yourself to ignore them, but the realist in you told you to put your guard up while not drawing any unnecessary attention. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you saw a shop window coming up because it meant that you could see who was supposedly stalking you, how big they were if you could possibly take care of them or just accept your inevitable demise. Just as the window came up you discreetly tilted your head up.

Your eyes widened as you made eye contact with your now apparent stalker. Shit. Gotta find a way to lose—

Before you could finish your thought, he had lunged at you, covering your mouth with his palm to trap any sounds you might’ve dared to make. “Shhh…” he soothed mockingly as your hands flew up to grab onto the assaulting arm just as he wrapped his other arm around your waist before nearly effortlessly carrying you off into a nearby alley veiled by darkness to cover up whatever atrocities he was about to commit.

He twisted around and slammed your body against the wall, forcing your arms behind your back and holding them still with one hand, his fingers painfully digging into your wrists as he tore off your hood and gripped your hair with his other hand unrelentingly. You felt his body pressing against your own as he leaned in and whispered, “Awfully late for a girl to be out, isn’t it? You don’t seem to be going clubbing, babe.” He tightened his grip as a silent threat to keep you quiet. “Something tells me you’re who I’ve been looking for,” he hummed into your ear. To his unfortunate surprise, you weren’t going to give up so easily. With your head and arms immobilized, you had one weapon left; your feet, so before he realised it you’d rapidly brought your foot down onto his with all your might. He grunted in pain as his grip loosened enough for you to whip around and send your elbow straight to his nose, the space between the two of you opening up as he stumbled back. To your surprise, he just chuckled breathily while bringing a hand up to wipe away a bit of the blood that had started to trickle out of his nose. “Looks like you’ve got some fight in you. Too bad I need to take you out,” he cooed huskily while looking you in the eyes with a mischievous glint in his.

“Fuck you,” you spat with a smirk. Might as well put up a fight before biting the dust.

You’d always had no choice but to rely on taking down your opponents not with brute strength, but by using their weak points against them, so you lunged forward and aimed for his nose again, but he managed to block your attack and used the small window of time and his advantageous position to knee you in the stomach, causing you to wince in pain. Of course, his next aim was to smash your face into his knee but you anticipated it and it was your turn to block his attack, grab his leg and shove him off his unstable stance.

Both of you met the concrete but it was you who was on top and nothing but anger fuelled your punches as they rained down upon his face. You were breathing heavier, moving faster, and your face mask had become a hindrance at that point, so you elected to rip it off while elbowing him in the jaw. In the process of removing your mask, however, you’d slowed enough to give him an opportunity to catch your next blow and land his own on your cheek.

Pain spread throughout your entire face in waves of excruciating fire. It clouded your mind enough that it left you vulnerable to his hand curling around your throat. You’d been left in such a daze that you hadn’t realised that he’d managed to flip you over until you’d registered the concrete chilling your skin. Your hands flew up to his, trying to pry it off desperately as precious oxygen failed to reach your burning lungs but his grip was so incredibly tight that your eyes began to sting, and you barred your teeth to fight back your tears.

Something in his eyes softened though. Whatever it was, you felt his hold slacken a bit but not enough to let you breathe. Having you on your back with more light shining on your face revealed your features to him and something in him clicked. He suddenly collected your wrists and pinned them above your head, gazing into your eyes intensely, clearly fighting an internal battle while you heaved, trying to regain your breath and refusing to look away from his puzzled features. You were painfully aware of the extensive bruising forming on your face and neck, hell you didn’t even want to think about what you might’ve looked like at that point, but your pride nearly had you smiling. You marked him alright, his right eye swelling, nose possibly broken and still dripping blood and bottom lip split just as bad. Is that a light sheen that’s glossing his forehead? You, a walking shadow to most, were such a challenge that your attacker was sweating?

“Just kill me! End me!” you started laughing at the ridiculousness of your situation, your body practically trembling beneath him from the rush of endorphins engulfing you, “What’s stopping you?”

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, “What if I told you I could give you a place to stay.”

“And why the fuck should I trust you? You’ve been trying to kill me this whole damn time!”

He leaned in and whispered, “I’ve been tracking you for a while now. I know you don’t have anywhere else to go and nothing to lose. I’ll train you too just to sweeten the deal, babe,” before leaning back out, having the audacity to smile down at you almost admiringly. Unbeknownst to you, your face had revealed your secretive past to him and he couldn’t be more delighted. Given what you’d had to go through by trusting all the wrong people, you were still skeptical of his proposition but he was right. You had absolutely nothing to lose but your life at this point. You’d lost a lover, a home and at this rate, you’d eventually die in the streets.

“And where will you take me, hm?”

“With me,” he smiled sincerely, “to my apartment.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but strangely, you wanted to trust him. You desperately wanted something or someone to save you from this hell you’d ended up in. At this point, you’d had enough of life. With a gun on you that you hadn’t been mindful enough to use, though you knew that he likely possessed one as well and if you couldn’t take him out, at least you could end your own miserable, meaningless life. You worried your lip between your teeth for a moment before replying.

“Fine.”

He slowly released your wrists and to his and your surprise, you didn’t try to fight or escape. He carefully got off you and held out his hand for you to take, to which you obliged and he helped you up. Out of habit, you repositioned the facemask you’d left hanging by your ear. The fear of being recognized after leaving Busan ate away at you each and every day.

“I have a ride,” he spoke softly, almost as if to lull you into a sense of safety. “You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us,” he assured you as he looked over to you lifting your hood back over your head to which you just nodded curtly, relieved that you’d be able to give your aching legs a rest. The effects of adrenaline were wearing off and your body burned dully from exhaustion. You noticed him limping slightly as you walked in silence for a moment before reaching a sleek black car parked in a secluded area. Damn bastard was probably gonna drag my body here. You snorted to yourself but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Ladies first,” he chuckled, opening the car door for you. You hesitated for a moment. If I’m going to escape now’s my last cha— “I promise I’ll take care of you,” you looked at him startled. “It’d be a crime to waste your talent,” he elaborated, smiling sincerely at you.

“Hand me your weapons,” you demanded, “then I’ll trust you.”

“If it’s that simple then here,” he took the handgun from within his jacket without hesitation and placed it in your now bruising hands. “You can pat me down too if I haven’t convinced you enough,” he winked and laughed when you scoffed and got in the car, shutting the door yourself stubbornly. You took off your mask and managed to catch a glimpse of the damage he had dealt you in the rearview mirror as he circled around the car. Not the worst I’ve seen. You noted as he got in the driver’s seat and started up the car.

“Here’s my proposition,” he said calmly as he pulled out of the alley, unphased by you taking the safety off of his gun. “I’m going to train you to be a proper assassin,” he took a turn and paused to think for a moment, “And you won’t ask questions,” he gave you a small but dazzling smile. Yet something inside you wanted to rebel against your suave abductor if only to test your luck. You were the one with the loaded gun after all.

“When do we start?” you smirked and a matching one spread onto his lips.

“Feisty, huh? I like it,” he cooed and stepped onto the gas, speeding up the car and laughing as you yelped in surprise.

Soon you’d arrived at his apartment close to the center and he’d given you a brief tour. It became evident that your exhaustion was catching up to you since he was yawning after every couple of sentences and your thoughts were slowing down. The open space which contained the kitchen and living room was the first thing you saw in the humble accommodation. There was a hallway which lead to what you presumed were the bathroom and his bedroom.

“I’ll go get you something to sleep in,” he murmured and headed to his room. He looked absolutely wretched with that black eye. Soon he came back with a stack of neatly folded clothes.

“Here,” he spoke softly as he handed you what you presumed to be one of his shirts and sweatpants. “Bathroom’s the door at the end of the hall. Take a bath if you feel like it and use whatever you want in there,” he looked into your eyes with more care than he’d care to admit and something inside you stirred at his genuine concern for you. Maybe it was your shared exhaustion but he was gradually chipping out a cozy little nook in your heart to settle in. Instinct kicked in and you couldn’t help but hug him. He smelled almost like lavender; a comforting and relaxing fragrance.

“Thank you,” you murmured before vanishing to the bathroom, leaving him stunned.

You’d drawn your first bath in weeks. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but study your worn body. Scars, and now bruises, littered your once smooth skin. What did it even look like back then? Some were from fights, some from the people you thought you could trust. But it didn’t matter now, you were safe from them.

You slowly dipped into the water and were enveloped by a comforting warmth you hadn’t felt in ages. You took your time bathing, savoring the warmth your body had craved yet your mind was riddled with questions. What will happen to me after this? Will I stay here forever? Will my heart still be beating…? Will he keep his promise? You tilted your head to the door, staring at it blankly, knowing that he was somewhere on the other side. Waiting. With either malicious intent or tender compassion. It could all be a facade he had set up.

You sank down in the tub, letting the surface of water reach your cupid’s bow, and exhaled through your nose, the surface rippling as you closed your eyes and shoved aside your fears. What do I have to lose? Absolutely nothing. It’s all gone now. You pulled the plug and watched the water drain with dull, glossy eyes. The air felt cool against your heated skin. You reluctantly braced your hands on the edges of the tub, wincing from the sharp throbbing in your knuckles and shakily stood up, stepping out of the tub carefully. If you were going to die now at least you’d had one pleasant experience before it and the two guns you’d taken with you. You dried your hair slowly, fixating on your refreshed features in the mirror. His clothes felt like a protective embrace wrapping you in his now strangely comforting scent. You silently opened the door and padded your way down the hall. He wasn’t in his bedroom.

“In here.”

Ah. You padded your way to the living room, finding him making a makeshift bed out of his couch. He had changed into a large cotton shirt and sweats, looking almost identical to you and admittedly more adorable and innocent than before, though the dried blood on his bottom lip and ice pack he was holding to his eye clashed with his appearance. “You’re sleeping in the bedroom,” he chuckled as he noticed your dazed state and offered you his hand which you took with less hesitation than before.

He quietly led you to the bedroom you’d passed on the way to the living room, never easing his gentle hold on your hand. They still ached.

“Get some sleep will you?” he whispered as he pulled you into the dimly lit room, tossing the ice pack onto the bed and he turned around to face you. A small lamp enveloped the room in a warm and soothing glow. You averted his gaze and nodded faintly. “You have nothing to be afraid of, okay?” he spoke as he gingerly brought his hand to your chin, avoiding the bruising, and tilted it up so he could see you, the corners of his lips lifting up slightly. He looked like an absolute mess yet he was still smiling.

“Use the ice pack to ease the swelling. Good night,” and with that, he was gone.

You’d slipped into the most peaceful slumber you’d had in a while when he’d silently slipped back into the room, unable to sleep as thoughts raced through his mind.

[00:37] You: Thought this one would be more useful alive rather than dead

[00:38] You: (JPG.1)

[00:38] You: Put up a strong fight too

[00:38] You: Beat my damn ass up pretty badly

Looking over at your sleeping figure, he smirked softly as he touched his split lip. “You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered with a smirk and shook his head, his phone eventually vibrating with a notification from his boss.

[00:51] ₩bag: Definitely.

He’d hired the assassin to deal away with you since you’d been disrupting business in his territory by roughing up some of his members, yet something inside the ganglord stirred as he struggled to believe his eyes. You’d been very advantageous to him after all.

[01:04] ₩bag: Oh and Jeon

[01:04] ₩bag: Take good care of her.

You finally arrived at the condo in the center of Seoul you and Jungkook had managed to purchase with the income from the empire you two had built together. He had kept his promise and let you live — no, thrive. You pulled out your phone and unlocked the smartlock with it and soon the gate clicked, letting you step onto the grounds. Following the small paved path, you reached the entrance to your extravagant home. You paused for a moment before unlocking the door; you still didn’t know exactly what prompted him to take you under his wing that fateful night and he refused to tell, but frankly, you didn’t mind; you kept your own secrets from him. You had found salvation in Jeon Jungkook and that fateful night had been the first since leaving Busan that you hadn’t had a single nightmare and a proper night’s rest. Your ‘apprenticeship’ quickly grew into something much more valuable to both you and him.

Unlocking the door, you were greeted with the smell of takeout and Jungkook’s head turning your way, a toothy smile stretching onto his lips at the sight of you. “About time, ___. I was getting worried, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side with his grin stretching even further.

“Geez, don’t get your panties in a twist,” to which he snorted. “I was dealing with Hoseok’s habit of paying me late,” you smirked as you shrugged off your jacket and made your way to the living room, where he had sprawled out boxes upon boxes of takeout on the small coffee table, presumably waiting for your arrival. In many ways, Jungkook had become almost like a brother to you. He always had your back and he’d helped you put yourself back together from the tattered state you’d met him in. You’d speculated his generosity to stem from both curiosity and reverence. You’d managed to deal your fair share of damage to him that night after all.

“Still doesn’t mean you can run around the city at this hour without telling me where you’d gone,” he pouted playfully and tilted his head to the side, earning a chortle from you.

“Gah, you’re so needy, I hope you know that,” you grinned as you sat down on the floor with him. He scoffed and looked at you with his hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

“You’d treat me this way after all these years?” he pretended to wipe away a tear and you snorted, leaning over and grabbing a lamb skewer from the container in front of him.

“Sorry, babe. Should’ve gotten used to my candidness a long time ago,” you laughed and gave him a smug look as you took a bite, causing him to drop his facade and snicker.

“You win this time,” he narrowed his eyes at you as he picked up a skewer of his own, “but mark my words, I will have my revenge, babe,” he quipped while motioning at you with the skewer.

You scoffed and it was your turn to express your faux distaste yet you couldn’t help but mirror the grin spreading on his lips and with that, you two began eating dinner and summarizing of the day’s events to each other. You discovered he’d carried out the mission posed by a longtime client; a millionaire who got tired of one of his mistresses. Clean shot too apparently. You yourself had discussed the logistics of your next operation with Kim. He said he’d hand over the prospective weapon for it tomorrow after your workout with Jungkook. Ah, shit, I should get the outfit— After the meeting…. You couldn’t help the yawn that slipped past your lips and had you stretching your now stiffened body while you brought a hand up to stifle the involuntary action.

“Bedtime?”

“Bedtime.”

#hoseok x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #sinningwithoppa #retrograde #can't spell assassin without ass sass and sin #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #fasten your seatbelts and get ready for one hell of a ride

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tisfan · 7 years

Text

The Devil, You Know

Crossover: Marvel verse/non-Marvel verse

Avengers/Lucifer (tv)

“Costumed superheros in Los Angeles? Ridiculous,” one of the unis muttered. He finished stringing the yellow crime-scene tape over the scene and lifted it to let homicide detective, Lt. Chloe Decker through. Lucifer was just behind her, trying to balance his coffee, her coffee, and the tray of pastries and cut fruit that he’d ordered specifically for her to try to convince her to have a breakfast date with him, and she’d been just about to say yes when they got the call. It wasn’t working out very well, and he almost lost it entirely when he got stuck on the tape.

The forensics examiner squeezed by him, rescuing him from the tape without even pausing.

“You know,” Ella said, snitching a doughnut and a slice of melon from the plate, “most people don’t have much of an appetite when confronted with a dead body. It’s one of the things I like about you, Lucifer. You’re just so perfectly aware that life goes on, even in the midst of tragedy. I think it’s sweet.”

“Pretty sure that Justin Hammer’s death doesn’t count as a tragedy, Pollyanna.”

The newcomer, his dark hair elegantly styled in that just-got-out-of-bed manner, was sharply dressed; his suit was at least three degrees higher in fashion and price than Lucifer’s own and he wore it with an air of disinterest.

“Tony,” another man said. “Try to show some respect.” This one was blond with neatly parted hair and wearing a Dad-damned red-white-and-blue superhero outfit.

Tony scoffed. “Respect? Captain, do you even know who you’re talking about? This is the man who almost blew up the Stark Expo a few years back, and, before you start telling me how that was just an exercise in good taste, let me point out that there were hundreds, nay even thousands of civilians there. All of whom were put in harm’s way by Parachute Pants here. Trust me, there are very few people who are going to be mourning him, and I am not one of them.” Tony gave the -- Captain? Really? -- a wide, dazzling smile that seemed to dare someone to punch him.

“Not to mention Hammer Industries is your main rival,” Chloe said, returning from the actual scene to confront the two men, hands on her hips. And then she did something Lucifer rarely saw; she looked Tony up and down and paused, her eyes admiring, when she reached the man’s backside. “Stark Industries lost a ton of government contract--”

“Excuse you,” Tony said, scowling. “Stark Industries refused those contracts.”

“Mr. Stark, your antagonistic relationship with the victim is the stuff of legends,” Chloe pointed out. “And here you are, in his home, the morning he mysteriously dies.”

“Not so mysterious,” Ella said. “There’s nothing legendary about a GSW. See, in the back, just above the neck, the bullet traveled through most of the abdominal cavity before striking the inside of his tactical vest. The richotte sort of turned the bullet-proof vest into one of those bullet blenders. Yuck. Someone was either very lucky, or they knew he was wearing it, and where he wasn’t covered.”

“Lucky’s a good word for it,” Chloe said. “You’re a weapons manufacturer, Mr. Stark.”

“Was. Was a weapons manufacturer,” Tony corrected. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“Tony, relax,” the captain said, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Detective. I’m Steve Rogers, good to meet you. As you might know, Mr. Hammer was on house arrest after several attempts of violence on his person at Seagate prison. Given the nature of his rivalry with Mr. Stark, a specially designed ankle cuff was locked on, so that Mr. Hammer was contained to his property.”

“I designed it,” Tony said. “And while I have all confidence in the LA police force, I thought it was best to keep an eye on my invention. When the alarm went off, I grabbed Cap for a hug-and-fly and we came out to see if John Henry here had been stupid enough to try to tamper with it.”

Lucifer gave up trying to keep his breakfast plate away from everyone and settled for rescuing Chloe’s coffee while one of the unis walked off with the rest of the pastries. “That’s a very convenient excuse. How wonderful for you that your rival shows up dead, just as you come in to see what he’s up to.” The little poppinjay was annoying him, especially the way Chloe was looking at him. “Tell me, Mr. Stark… what is it that you desire?”

Tony whipped off his sunglasses to stare at Lucifer. His eyes were deep, rich brown, shot with gold and there was a keen intellect behind the tailored suits. He had a bit of a glow to him; touched by Dad. Ug. Well, it certainly would be fun to discover that one of Dad’s favorites had committed a cold-blooded murder.

The man had a will of iron, but then his gaze dropped, defeated. “What… what do I desire?” Tony put his hand up, touched the fingers on his shoulder. “World peace would be a good start; I’m so tired of everyone on the planet wanting to kill everyone else. There are worse things out there than which bathroom people use. Wouldn’t mind the opportunity to talk to my father, one more time. Not sure if I’d hug him, or deck him, but you know, that’s just details. It might be nice to have just a little less knee pain, but I’m getting older. And I’d give several middling sized fortunes for Steve to say yes, if I asked him on a date. As for Justin Beiber here, I was perfectly happy with him locked in his own house. He was an idiot and easily led, but mostly I just wanted him to stop accidentally hurting people.”

Lucifer heaved a great sigh. “Why does this never work the way it’s supposed to? Do I need to go back to Hell for a tune-up?”

“It’s not them,” Ella said, popping up suddenly. There are security cameras all over the place; both inside and out. “I’ve got a confirmed visual on them flying in when Mr. Hammer was already deceased. Even if they’d arrived ten minutes earlier, they might have been able to save him, but they certainly didn’t kill him.”

“You can go, Mr. Stark. I have a murder to solve,” Chloe said, giving Lucifer the side eye, as if it was somehow his fault that the killers weren’t right here for ease of arrest.

“Wait, Detective…” Lucifer said. “Detective!”

Steve, on the other hand, looked like he’d been turned into a statue. “What? What, Tony, what was that?”

Tony, who was still trying to shake off the effects of Lucifer’s confession stare, blinked. “Did I say something, Cap?”

“I would.”

“Would what?”

“Say yes,” Steve clarified. “If you asked me on a date, I mean.”

“Well, aren’t you two just a basketful of unresolved sexual tension,” Lucifer said. “Excuse me, the detective still hasn’t had her coffee.”

“Oh, coffee, thank you,” Tony said, liberating it from Lucifer’s grasp and taking a long swallow. “Very good. You can go now.” He turned back to Steve with a serious expression. “Now that I’m caffeinated, would you care to repeat that, because I’m sure I was dreaming.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and stalked off after Chloe. He had a job to do, and it wasn’t getting two epic idiots to go on a date.

#cap-ironman bingo fill #stonybingo #crossover #tony x steve #stony #pre-slash #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker

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