#weirdly dressed crime boss

[tropes-and-tales]

If You Weren't You, Part Two

Day 1:  Hate sex (Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst, kinda; smut (PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  5618

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by @thesandbeneathmytoes!)

The weekend passes uncomfortably for Benny Magalon.

He has the usual bullshit chores to catch up on.  He gets groceries, does his laundry.  He calls home, gets the updates on his family from his mom.  He goes through the pile of mail that accumulated on his table during the week.

Every idle moment, his mind drifts to you.  That moment with you, specifically.  The moment of insanity.

Nighttime is the worst.  He doesn’t fall asleep easily anyway, but Saturday night, Sunday night…it takes longer than usual to drift off.  He keeps replaying that moment.  In the darkness of his room, he swears he can exactly remember the weirdly tender way you touched him—your hand in his hair, the gentle way you kissed him. 

The way he made you laugh—really laugh—when he jokingly accused you of getting turned on by being mean to him.

The curiously hurt look on your face afterwards when he implied that fucking you was some bottom-of-the-barrel situation for him.  It was inexplicable, the hurt in your expression, because Benny hadn’t thought you were capable of feeling hurt.  You were too cool, too dispassionate…or so he thought.

Sunday night stretches out long and uncomfortable.  The minutes tick by slow, and he’s no closer to falling asleep.  In only a few hours he’ll have to get up, get dressed, and face you. 

“Goddammit,” he mutters in the darkness of his room, and he rolls over, punches his pillow into shape, and tries to push you out of his head.

-----

He doesn’t have to face you Monday morning.  Lobbin’ Bob is the one leading the morning debrief, and you are nowhere to be found. 

Benny finds out later that you are with the LAPD, plying your charm to get some case files they have on the suspect on a separate case.  Right now, though, he’s just relieved to not have to see you. 

He and Big Nick go outside after the debrief to head back to Major Crimes.  His boss looks awful—he hits those Friday parties hard and never seems to have enough time to recover.  Nick gestures to Benny to wait a moment, and he leans against his truck, slides a pack of smokes out of his coat pocket.  He lights a cigarette with a grumble, then tosses the pack and lighter to Benny.

They smoke together in silence for a beat.  God only knows what Big Nick is thinking. 

Benny?  He’s thinking he’s dodged a bullet, but that he’ll have to face you soon enough. 

Big Nick takes a deep drag of his cigarette.  “Sorry about Friday night,” he says.  “You drew the short straw.”

Benny flicks the ash off of his own cigarette.  “S’ fine.”

“You missed a good party.”  A beat.  “So how was she?  Lobbin’ Bob’s pet ice queen?”

He shrugs.  He refuses to tell his boss about that moment of madness in the backseat of your SUV, the weirdly tender moment that turned sour as soon as you both put your pants back on. 

“Same as always,” he replies.

Big Nick chuckles, shakes his head.  “You know, I’m all for women in law enforcement.  Equal rights and all that shit.  But I hate it when they get too high on themselves.  The way she marches around, acting like she’s better than everyone…there’s no room for ego in this game.”

Benny bites his tongue, doesn’t point out that Big Nick has the biggest ego of anyone.  How he insists on being the center of attention, the center of any moment.  The Sheriff’s department resident bad boy who get results at the cost of….well, everything.  At the cost of good procedures and policies, at the cost of his family, at the cost of his detectives’ personal lives…

“She needs taken down a notch or two,” Big Nick says.  “Think we should be the ones to do it.”

Benny has witnessed plenty of his boss’s pranks and mean-spirited jokes.  Big Nick plays rough.

He remembers the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair, the soft way you pulled him to you to kiss him.  The startling sound of your laughter.

“Nah, leave it,” he tells Big Nick, but he should know better—Nick does what Nick wants, and tough shit to anyone who doesn’t like it.

*****

You learned how to compartmentalize things when you were just a kid, and the knack for it serves you well in adulthood—in your personal life, but especially in your job.

When you make the terrible decision to fuck Detective Magalon, that decision straddles both your personal and professional life, which makes it harder to shove away in a box and forget it…but you’re a pro at sealing off unhappy moments, sliding them into some cobwebbed corner of your mind, so that’s exactly what you do.

You seal off that moment with Magalon, you push it away, you start to forget it.

Monday:  you spend the better part of the day with LAPD, sifting through evidence tangentially related to your case.

Tuesday:  you testify in an unrelated case, drive up to Sacramento and walk a judge and jury through your investigation from months ago.

Wednesday:  you return to the office and the case at hand.  The LAPD sent over all of their casework while you were in the state capitol, boxes of evidence, so you sigh and settle in for a day of combing through it all.  It’s a proverbial needle in a haystack, but you aren’t alone for long.

An hour into it, you’ve only just ordered the boxes and cracked open the first one.  There’s a knock at the door of your office, and Bob peeks his head in.

“Hey, the Sheriff’s Department sent over one of their detectives to help you sort through the evidence,” he said.  He shook his head, chuckled.  “I tried to tell O’Brien that we didn’t need any help, but he’s afraid of getting iced out.”

You roll your eyes and hope the gesture covers the way your stomach cramps and twists.  You know it’s going to be Magalon.  That shoved-away, boxed-up memory resurfaces—the gentle way he had cradled the top of your head in your SUV, the way he had smiled down at you…then how he had insulted you right after, and how hard that stung.

“It’s fine,” you lie to Bob.

“Good.”  He raps his fist against the doorjamb.  “He’s on his way up.  Play nice, but if you need me, just call.”

“Will do,” you reply, and you have only a handful of minutes to compose yourself:  to pull on a neutral face, to take some steadying breaths, and then Detective Magalon—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stupid—is in your doorway with an inscrutable expression on his face.

*****

You’re quiet all day.  Through the morning, through lunch and into the afternoon—you say so little.  The sum total of your conversation is you asking him what he wants for lunch, then you calling out to an assistant to place the order.

You eat in silence.  You work in silence.  Benny goes outside to smoke a cigarette, and he finds his hands tremble to light it.  He lingers outside as long as he thinks he can, and he returns to your office slowly, drags his feet.

Your silence is unnerving.  It holds weight and takes up space, like a third entity in the room with the two of you.  Benny’s not used to women being so quiet when they’re pissed at him—and you must be pissed at him.  Women he’s done wrong, they usually yell at him, scream at him, come at him like wildcats.

You just sit there and page through wire-tap records, witness interviews, phone records.  You don’t avoid eye contact with him but you don’t stare him down.  You’re perfectly neutral, exactly down the middle of the line.

His weird guilt and unease shifts back to a more familiar feeling:  irritation.  Lobbin’ Bob’s goddamned pet ice princess.  Fussily perfect, completely boring.  You drink water all day to stay hydrated.  You brush and floss your teeth after lunch.  When you get a headache, you pull open a desk drawer—neatly organized—and shake out a single tablet of ibuprofen that you toss back with a practiced flick of the wrist.

You’re a goddamned robot, not even a real person, and Benny hates that you took up so much space in his head over the weekend.  He hates that he felt a burgeoning guilt over what he had said after your hookup; he hates that he felt nervous to see you again.  He hates that he lost a single moment of sleep over you.

The sun reaches its apex and starts its slide into the west.  The quiet murmur of office noise dies off on the other side of your door.  Benny’s concentration wanes too; the numbers on the phone logs he’s combing start to blur together.  His thoughts drift off to other things.  He starts to fiddle with his phone, restlessly scrolling through his email, his texts, the handful of bare-bones social media he has.

You glance up at him from your pile of paperwork when his phone chimes—a text from Big Nick—and Benny feels your eyes on him.  When he looks up from replying to Nick, he catches your studious look, your arched brow.

But you say nothing, so when you bend your head back to the task at hand, he goes ahead and breaks the onerous silence with a terse, “we gonna be much longer?”

“Big Nick got a line on some coke and hookers?”

There it is.  Finally.  He pushes a hard exhale through his nose and shakes his head.  “That wasn’t Big Nick.”  He doesn’t add more to the lie; he’s curious if you’ll think it’s a woman.  He’s curious if any glimmer of jealousy will cross your features.

He’s disappointed a beat later.  Instead of feeling jealous, you seem to see through his ruse but you play along.  Your lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. 

“Oh, a hot date, then?”  The smile widens, and you lift a hand towards your closed door.  “If you leave now, you won’t lose your deposit on her.”

Another huffed out breath, and his irritation rachets up a degree.  He hates your implications around him paying for women, but he hates even more how close to the mark you’ve hit.  He hasn’t paid for it, not in a long while…but there was a time when he had, back when he was freshly-divorced and smarting from it, licking his wounds at their big seedy parties each weekend. 

“Jealous?” he asks, and he hates how lame it sounds as a comeback, but he pairs it with a stony expression.

You nod, and a fake frown replaces your smile, a pouting moue that would be charming on anyone else but you. 

“I’m devastated,” you reply, dead-pan, but then you sigh and look back down at your paperwork.  “No, go ahead and go.”

He would leave if you’d leave, but you seem like you’re staying.  The sun is almost set now, and your office is darker, but you make no move to box up the remaining evidence.  You seem like you’re hunkering down until the job is done, and that needles at Benny even more.  You’ve always obliquely—and not so obliquely—implied that you are the better cop.  That he and the Major Crimes assholes are reckless tramplers of the law, and that you and Lobbin’ Bob are upstanding examples of law enforcement.

“You coming?” he asks.  He stands up but doesn’t move towards the door.

“No.”

“It’s late.”

You tilt your head but don’t look up at him.  “I’ve worked later than this.”

The implication, Benny hears, is that he’s never worked late before, and he bristles at your tone.  “There’s probably nothing here,” he replies, and he gestures at the boxes of evidence from the LAPD case.  “Leave it.”

You snort, and you finally lift your head.  You stare at him dead-on, no blinking.  “That’s excellent police work, Detective.  ‘There’s probably nothing here.’”  You repeat his words back to him in a startingly good impression of him, his lazy California accent and soft voice, and he bristles even more.

“This stuff was always a long shot,” he argues.

“Long shots pay off all the time.  Some cases are built on long shots.”

“So you’re gonna stay here and finish?”  He glanced over at the boxes you haven’t gotten to yet.  There’s three of them.  You’ll be here all night.  He feels that familiar sting of guilt, and then he feels pissed, like you’re manipulating him into staying longer, even though you’ve been beating him with your silence all day—

“Yup.  I am.”

“Well, I’m leaving.”  He takes a step towards your door but goes no further because that fucking guilt keeps him rooted in place.  The thought of you spending a lonely night with boxes of evidence, and he’s supposed to be your partner in this—

“C’mon, let’s just go,” he adds.  “We can hit it tomorrow fresh.”

“Tomorrow I have to hit something else,” you reply.  There’s tension in your voice, a tightness to your words.  You’re getting irritated with him now.  “And the next day there’s something else.  I have to get through this now or it won’t get done.”

“Shit, there’s nothing—”

“Christ, Magalon!”  You snap, sudden, and it makes him jolt where he stands.  You toss your pen aside and bring your fist down on your desktop like a hammer, and the display of anger makes him take a half step away from you.  You stand up, round around your desk, and you go to your door and yank it open.

“Go.”  You stand in the doorway and point out of it, and you actually fucking snap your fingers as you point, like he’s a recalcitrant dog caught chewing on the furniture.

“Jesus, calm down—”

The words slip out despite knowing that telling any woman to calm down always elicits the opposite reaction:  you actually stamp your foot on the floor, and it’d be cute as shit, how feisty you’re getting out of nowhere, but you’re you, and he’s been ready to leave for hours, exhausted by the boring work and the frustration to be paired with you again.

“Get out,” you tell him.  “I’ll finish it up myself.”

“I only—”

“I don’t need any excuses.  Seriously, Magalon.  Go home.  Go find O’Brien or your band of merry assholes.”

He should leave.  He wants to.  You’re back to being a bitch, a living cold front that leaves him chilled by your silence and your judgement.  He’s completely free to stalk away; he has no obligation to stay and suffer more.  Except…

…except you’ve been calling him by his name all day.  Calling him by his title.  Magalon.  Detective.  You’ve dropped the pretense of calling him the wrong name, the pretense of conflating him with his Major Crimes teammates—the message that they’re all the same, interchangeable, identical in their awfulness.

Does it mean you see him as himself now?  Did he lay you well enough to distinguish himself from the pack and earn that scant bit of respect—razor-thin, admittedly—that you use his last name now?

“Calm down,” he repeats, and this time it’s intentional.  He’s rewarded by more outrage:  you stamp your foot again (it is cute, he decides now, because you’re usually so collected).  You actually go so apoplectic that when you open your mouth to respond, nothing comes out.  You glare at him gape-mouthed, and nothing comes out, so he adds, “shit, you need laid again?  You already missing it after a few days?”

Your eyes go wider, and you huff out a breath so heavily that your nostrils flare at the effort.  “Shut up.”

It’s not a no.  Benny smirks at you, and your eyes narrow into slits at his expression.

“Just go,” you seethe, like you’re pushing the words out between your clenched jaw.  “Seriously, don’t leave whoever waiting.  Your date.  O’Brien.  Whoever.”

“I can spare you five minutes.”

You snort, roll your eyes.  “What’s that come to, four minutes of foreplay and a minute of action?”

This is cute too, he decides.  You talking shit about his game when you know better.  You acting like you don’t know how he is, like you don’t have the first-hand experience of him pretty effortlessly coaxing an orgasm from you—

“Aw, sweetheart.”  His smirk widens, and he reaches out to trace a fingertip down the curve of your face.  “You know that isn’t true.”

You swat away his hand and make a dismissive tsch sort of noise, but you don’t reply.  He lifts his hand again, traces his forefinger across the neckline of your blouse.  He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close, and when you go to swat him away again, he catches your hand in his.  Pulls you towards him, takes you off your balance until you sway closer to him.

“C’mon,” he says.  “Five minutes, then we leave, and hit those few boxes fresh in the morning.”

He sees that you’re tempted.  He sees the way your expression wavers, and he isn’t sure if you’re more tempted by him or the prospect of not spending the night in your office…but either way, he’s snaking his way around the wall you have up, and you’re wavering—

“C’mon.”  He drops his voice to a low rumble right by your ear, and he catches the way your breathing picks up, the rise and fall of your chest quickening.  “I know you’re already wet, sweetheart.  You’ve been mean to me all day.  You must be.”

It makes you laugh, and just like that night in your SUV, it startles him.  It’s such a rare sound, he guesses.  It’s throaty and low but loud, punched-out.  Just like before, he feels a thrill of pride to draw it out of you.  He bets it’s a rarer thing to make you laugh than to make you come, and he’s done both.

“I haven’t been mean to you at all,” you point out.  “I’ve barely talked.”

“Silent treatment can hurt.”

Another eye-roll.  “You complained the other day that I talk too much.  Now it’s not enough.”

A fair point:  he did snap at you that night, right before he kissed you.  He doesn’t want to rehash it at the moment.  His own arousal is awake, powering up, so he lifts his eyebrows at you and says, hopeful, “so?”

“So what?”

“Five minutes, then we go?”

“Fuck off.”  You move past him, out of the doorway and back into your office.  “You just want more ammo for your asshole buddies.  Tell ‘em all about hooking up with the ice princess or whatever.”

Benny shuts the door to your office, but he’s on the wrong side of it.  He takes the few steps to follow you and says, “I didn’t tell them.”

Another one of your bitter tsch sounds.  “Because it’s embarrassing.  Yeah, I know.  You already—”

“It isn’t their business.”  He cuts you off, and if he’s been teasing you before, he’s deadly serious now.  It isn’t their business.  Not Henderson, not Z, not Connors.  Certainly not Big Nick.  He chafes under their closeness sometimes, hates that they work and party together so much that it feels like he has no privacy.  But this thing—a one-time hook-up that maybe is burgeoning into more—belongs to the two of you.  You and Benny.  No one else.  He tells you so, in far fewer words.

You don’t believe him.  You finally turn and watch him, and the expression in your eyes is pure wariness.  Underneath it, though, he swears he sees a glint of something else, something not easily defined—

“Come on,” he says.  He sounds whiny but he doesn’t care.  “You keep scrapping with me, and we could already be fucking.”

It makes you smile.  It blossoms across your face like you can’t help it, and in the moment Benny just thinks got you, sweetheart, but afterwards he’ll think about how your smile, rare as it is, holds no artifice, not a single ounce of guile.  He’ll think, later on, how your smile transforms your entire face from one of a brittle sort of prettiness to something extraordinarily beautiful.

“Fine,” you answer him, and if you weren’t you, it’d be adorable how you act like you’re put out, like you’re doing him a favor.  “Lock the door then, Magalon.”

-----

The interlude in your SUV wasn’t romantic by any stretch, but you try to make this moment even less so.  At least that first time, it started with him kissing you, you kissing him back.  Now, you’re all business, and he stares for a beat as he watches you kick off your shoes, as you start to unbutton your pants.

“Damn, slow down,” he says.

“You have five minutes.”  You push your pants down, give a little shimmy to get them over your hips, over your ass.  You get them off but you shake them out and hang them over your chair, fussy as ever.

Benny closes the gap between you, and he manages to reach down and still your hands before you can get your panties off.  He clasps them and draws them up, presses them to his chest. 

“Slow down,” he repeats.  He says it softer, almost a whisper, and it makes you lift your gaze to find him.

The corner of your mouth quirks into a near-smile.  “Well, now you have four—”

He doesn’t let you finish.  He bends his head and cuts off your smart-ass mouth with a kiss, steals the words from you.  Your lips are just as soft as that night, and when he groans at the feel of them, he feels them curve into a smile.  A beat later, he feels the sharp line of your teeth nipping at him, not very hard, and then the tip of your tongue tracing along his lower lip.

Benny releases your hands.  He wraps one around the back of your neck to hold you to him.  He places the other on your waist, and he pushes his fingers under the hem of your shirt to revel in the feel of your skin—soft, and so warm that you feel almost feverish.

You?  You don’t romance it beyond kissing him, but you’re eager.  He can feel it shimmering off of you like heat on pavement on a summer’s day.  Your hands reach down on him; one fumbles at his belt and the button and fly of his jeans while the other cups him through the denim.  He inhales sharply at your touch, even through the layers of clothing.  He breaks the kiss a moment later when you snake your hand under his jeans and his boxers—the sudden feeling of your warm palm on his cock, coaxing him from half-hard to fully erect.

“Eager.  Knew you missed me,” he gloats.  He tries to catch your eye but you avoid him, shake your head.

“Shut up,” you mumble, and it’s defensive, and it could lead to you stopping this whole encounter and putting that wall up around you again, so he leaves it be and kisses you again.

Benny wonders what it would be like to take his time with you.  This is paltry; it’s a meager mouthful, barely enough to sate any appetite.  When he hoists you onto the edge of your desk and pushes into you—you’re already wet, just as he had guessed, so you must get turned on by scrapping with him—it feels just as amazing as before.  Your pussy is molten, velvety, gripping him like a fist until he grits his teeth so he doesn’t embarrass himself and come too soon…

…yet he wonders how much better it would be to take his time.  To have the luxury of time and space and privacy, to strip you completely naked and see what you really look like.  He’d love to edge you, he thinks.  He’d love to see you stretched out on a bed, back arching away from the mattress as he pushes you to the precipice of your orgasm only to deny you at the last moment.  He’d love to strip away every bit of ego you have, every bit of smugness that sets you higher than him in your own opinion.  He’d love to frustrate you completely in bed, would love to see your eyes leaking tears, that mean mouth of yours begging him so sweetly…

…because even like this, once he gets his cock in you, you turn so nice.  It gentles you, rounds off the sharp bits and edges of you.  Your face goes soft with wonder.  Your eyes go soft when you meet his gaze.  As he fucks you—sharp thrusts, steady pace—you tilt your face up to him, and you look so unlike yourself that he kisses you again.  You sigh into it, hold him tighter where your arms are wrapped around his shoulders to help hold yourself steady at the awkward angle.

Neither of you say much else.  He wraps an arm around your waist as he drives into you, and you mumble when you’re close but he already knows:  as inscrutable as you are, as placid as your face can be when you’re masking yourself around him, your body is an open book.  He feels like he’s tuned in perfectly to whatever wavelength you’re operating on.  He hears the way your breathing picks up, feels how your kisses get sloppier as you sink into the sensation of your approaching orgasm.  He feels how your cunt grips him tighter, how your arousal coats him and makes it easier to bottom out in you.

He tells you he’s close too, and that’s about the sum of your conversation for the rest of the night:  you come a beat later, with a keening whine that sets him off and gives him barely enough time to pull out before he’s painting your belly with his cum. 

You’re both quiet afterwards.  He resists the urge to kiss your forehead before he parts from you.  You might be resisting a similar urge, because you pat him awkwardly on his shoulder in a “way to go, sport” sort of way.  But neither of you say much as you clean up, dress, reassemble yourselves.  You’re both silent as you leave together, likely remembering how quickly shit turned mean the last time you fucked.

“Hit the rest of the evidence tomorrow morning?” he asks, and you meet his gaze and then nod. 

You turn towards where your SUV is parked, but you turn back a beat later, tell him to drive safely. 

*****

The case progresses slowly. 

You and Benny continue…well, whatever it is, you continue it.

It gives you whiplash.  The mean sniping with each other, the insults and barbs you trade.  He still follows the ice princess routine, the prissy, bland, clean-living routine.  He makes wild assumptions about your life—accuses you of loving beige, of being boring, of decorating your home in “live, laugh, love” décor.  His speculations about your sex life—as it exists outside of your hookups with him, that is—make you sound repressed and tedious.  You fuck white-collar men, he claims.  With the lights off.  Missionary.  Through a hole in the sheet.

All of that contrasted against how he’s kinda, sorta nice when you hook up.  He kisses you nicely, helps you clean up afterwards.  You tend to fuck in inconvenient places that test your flexibility, and Magalon is nice about it, considerate to take as much of the discomfort as he can rather than let you twist or strain to make it work.

Tall, Dark, and Stupid.  He is capable of being nice, you guess.  Who would have thought?

Only capable of it, though.  It’s not an innate character trait, you assume.  He’s still a mean asshole, snarky, and sometimes his words hit their target dead on and other times they only glance off of you.  You’re never sure when they’re going to hurt and when they’re going to make you laugh.

Once, you hook up in your office again, quiet because it’s the lunch hour and there’s twenty fellow FBI agents on the other side of your locked office door.  Magalon makes a crude joke afterwards about how you need to take a day off to meet up with your waxer, and your anger at the double standard—this dude who rolls around Los Angeles in a flannel with scruffy facial hair, judging you—washes through you immediately.  You open your mouth to argue because his judgement still stings, still makes you feel small and unworthy, but you catch him holding back a smile.  His stupid dimple gives him away, and he reaches down and smacks your ass lightly before he goes to leave.

“Save that feistiness for next time,” he tells you, and he drops you a wink, and you hate that he knows you will hold onto his comment, that you will likely visit your salon before you see him again.  You hate that he’ll see the results and smirk knowingly. 

You hate that he’ll know he is capable of getting to you.

Another time, he hurries you along.  It’s early evening, and he’s watched the clock all afternoon.  It’s distracting and keeps your orgasm frustratingly out of reach, like you can brush your fingertips against it but not get a firm grip.  You do what you always do, then:  you gasp beside his ear, you bear down.  You fake it.

You think he probably knows, because he peers at you through narrowed eyes right before he comes, and you hate that he’s savvy enough about your body to know the difference between the real thing and faking.

“Got somewhere to be,” he tells you as you clean up.  You hear the rustle of his jeans, the clink of his belt buckle. 

“Well, don’t let me hold you up.”

“Got a date,” he adds, and you catch the sidelong glance he gives you.  No dimples though.  You wonder if it’s true or if he’s riling you up.

“Lucky girl.”  You perch on the edge of your desk and pull your shoes back on.

“You sound jealous.”

“I’m not.”  You aren’t.  You’re relieved to find the thought of Magalon going on a date with someone else doesn’t spark any emotion at all.  You’ve done a lot of dumb things lately—chiefly the detective standing in your office, zipping up his pants—but at least catching feelings for said detective isn’t one of them.

“You sure?”  He peers at you again, and his face is back to its usual stoic stoniness.  Not a hint of smile, and you can’t read whatever is going on behind his dark eyes.

“Be sure to hold the door open for her,” you advise him.  “Women love basic politeness.”

“If you’re jealous…”

“I’m not.  Go.  Have fun.”  You shoo him away.  You sit down at your desk, not wanting to leave with him and go through this jealous-or-not-jealous routine in the parking lot too.  You see him out of the corner of your eye while he lingers in your doorway, and then he’s gone.

You don’t catch the faint hurt, the disappointment on his face when he leaves, like he was hoping you’d be jealous of the thought of him out with another woman, wining and dining her properly instead of just hate-fucking her. 

And he, of course, isn’t there later to see when the jealousy finally does hit you.  It’s just a small feeling; there’s no wild tears or tight chest.  You’re already home and walking your dog when it hits.  You imagine him out with a nameless woman, and you fill in all the features based on where you find yourself lacking:  this nameless woman has smaller, perkier tits, a better ass, a perfectly landscaped pussy.  She oozes warmth and openness.  No one has ever accused her of being an ice princess.  She has a complete, happy family:  parents who are still married and still very much in love, an older sister, a younger brother.  By the time you’re done walking the dog, you have written an entire history for this nameless woman, and the sting of jealousy needles deeper.

“It’s just fucking,” you remind yourself in bed that night, chiding yourself for getting so worked up over nothing.  “It’s just hate sex.”

Still, maybe this is the moment you need to end it.  It’s just a bad idea all around.  Magalon says he’s never told his buddies, but you can’t be sure and you certainly don’t trust him.  Hooking up isn’t against the rules, per se, but you’d hate the judgment that would spring up around the office.  It also distracts you when your attention should be elsewhere; the thought of prior hook-ups, the promise of more.  And now that you know he’s seeing other people outside of this thing you have, you’d have to make him wear a condom anyway.  No sense in putting yourself at risk.

“Easier to just end it,” you mumble as you roll over, tuck your hands under your pillow and try to make yourself comfortable.

Yes, that’s what you’ll do.  You’ll just end it.  Cold-turkey.  No need to make a scene about it.  The next time he reaches for you, you’ll just gently and firmly decline.  You’re not really the sort of woman to go for hate-fucking anyway, so breaking off your thing with Magalon is just you getting back to who you really are. 

A temporary break from sanity, but now you’re returning to who you are.

#benny magalon imagine #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon #benny borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon imagine #borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon #den of thieves #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

[ms-nesbit]

blue chicago (final chap. of sweet home chicago)

Chapters 1 and 2 here

Rating: 18+ (minors will be banned into the shadow realm)

Warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, jason is gentle ig

Summary: continuation of y/n and Jason’s first date. Jason wants to figure out where their relationship, if any, continues after his return to Gotham

Y/n ordered an uber for the couple, holding their phone in their hand and preemptively checking the plates and model of the vehicle to ensure their safety. “There’s a killer in Chicago right now, y’know. I might not be their demographic, but you probably are.”

Jason cocked his head in confusion. “I think I can manage.” he commented with a naive grin, reminiscing on the last time he caused a mob boss in Bludhaven to fall to his knees.

As they packed into the Fiat (for Jason, like a sardine, as he had to tuck his legs in order to fit even remotely comfortably), y/n began to point out different landmarks and their history.

“So you’ve been here a while I take it?”

Y/n took their eyes from the passing buildings, old and new, to look directly at Jason. Under the fleeing lights that escaped their view, y/n could make out his curiosity for them, his hazel eyes more gray than blue. “Long enough to know that there’s a killer that the CPD refuses to acknowledge, and that you always lock your doors after eight-thirty.” Y/n sighed, Jason’s gaze growing in intensity, so much that y/n had to look away. “I’ve never been to Gotham. Heard that their crime puts mine to shame.”

Jason let out a tired laugh. “Yeah, that’s about the only thing we really excel at.” he cleared his throat and glanced at the driver, whose eyes were narrowed at the traffic ahead, before he continued. “I mean, I can show you around sometime, if you ever want to take a vacation and see… I dunno, something.”

“So you don’t like it much?” Y/n moved their knees to face Jason, relaxing their shoulders on the back rest of the seat.

Jason shook his head. “To be honest, it’s home. Kinda like that weirdly toxic ex you keep coming back to, y’know?” Y/n rolled their eyes and nodded. “I’ve been to a few cities, including this one, and Gotham just feels comfortable to me. There isn’t much except the vigilantes in muscle suits, but I guess it gives the town some flavor.”

“I’ve been curious about the bat. I’m sure that’s gotta be some scary shit. Have you ever seen him?”

“Uhm,” Jason searched for an appropriate response without blowing his identity or his adoptive father’s. “Everyone who reads the newspaper or watches the news really knows what he looks like, but I can’t say for certain that I agree with his methodology.”

Y/n crept closer, scooting in their seat. “Methodology?” they repeated, running their fingers through their curls.

“Yeah, he…” Jason kissed his teeth in frustration, his visible disapproval enough to shift the mood in the compact vehicle, “he captures these guys, and some of them are really fucked up, and he just…lets them go to the police.”

Y/n rolled their eyes again, their demur matching Jason’s. “Then they get released, right? Because I’m almost certain that Gotham PD isn’t much better than Chicago’s.”

Nodding slowly, Jason’s hair mildly swayed with his head shaking. The way the strands fell out of place seemed right for him, y/n noted to themself. “There are a few places that I could take you to, if you were to, y’know, want to see a man dressed up as a flying mammal.” He interlocked his fingers, and y/n noticed a miniscule scar on the middle finger of his right hand that crawled up to the cuff of his shirt. When Jason followed y/n’s eyes, he withdrew his hands and crossed his arms. “There’s a bakery right in downtown, and a nice school there if you want to check out their law library.”

He smiled at y/n, who was still stuck on the scars - where did they come from? Why is he hesitant about them? Y/n wondered, their questions on the horizon, but not quite washed up to the shore of their tongue. “You really want me to check out this lawless town of yours, huh?”

“Well, I mean,” heat rose to Jason’s cheeks, “if you’re interested, I surely wouldn’t want you walking around alone, y’know? Some of those crooks take advantage of out-of-towners, and I think that you might-”

“Stick out like a sore thumb?” y/n finished, catching Jason in his words. “For a first date, you’re certainly charming with your words.”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, opening his mouth to begin speaking before the uber driver abruptly announced their arrival. He wondered if the driver was used to the banter, and after y/n exited the tiny backseat, the driver muttered a quick, “You two have fun now,” to Jason, while giving him a knowing grin.

Fixing their outfit, y/n waited for Jason as they entered their key code (using their free hand to cup the dials to maintain some sort of confidentiality) and opened the door once they gained entry. “You ready?” Y/n stated as more of a precautionary word as opposed to a question. It drew Jason’s eyes from y/n’s wide hips to the building itself.

The building was…a building, and Jason was almost upset that someone like y/n could live in a building with a malfunctioning fire escape, several boarded up windows, and gaps in the brickwork that tested the integrity of the structure. He blinked back a frown. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Once they entered, Jason felt the hairs on his neck raise in caution. From his upbringing, he knew to take heed of whomever he passed in places like these, and he kept his lips screwed together while his eyes darted to the source of his uneasiness: first, he noticed the flickering, buzzing fluorescent light in the lobby, its cold lighting shining (but dimmed); then, the water damage along the tiled ceiling, with accompanying stains on the corners where the wall met the ceiling, and darker, deeper stains - presumably blood - that sprayed along the lower walls and onto the ground; the lobby desk was empty, devoid of life of any kind, and before y/n called his name from the shabby elevator, Jason could almost make out a tiny inscription carved on the bottommost shelf on the abandoned desk, one that nearly reminded him of…

His thoughts rummaged as he multitasked the date with detective work. He reminded himself of Dick’s warning, ‘Enjoy yourself here, man. Don’t think about work for a bit.’, but one thing Bruce taught Jason was to trust his intuition. After they stepped off from the elevator, which creaked with every shift of weight, Jason followed y/n closely behind, keeping his hand over his right hip, where he stored his trusty blade. His eyes flickered behind him suspiciously, watching over his shoulder for whatever threat may expose themselves to him, and after they entered y/n’s home, Jason still refused to shake off the anxiety he felt.

“I know it’s not the Four Seasons,” y/n began, their tone derisive and self-depreciating, “but it’s my place for right now. And it’s actually nice that I get to learn how to repair things on my own since my landlord is pretty much MIA.”

Jason motioned to his shoes, to which y/n pointed their head to the thinly-wired shoe rack. He placed them there gingerly before returning his attention to y/n. “If you feel safe, and it’s not causing you any respiratory infections with the obvious mold growing in the walls of the hall alone, then I can’t really disagree with you much there.”

The overcoat Jason wore flounced with every motion, and it drove y/n mad, wanting to see what was underneath the layers. They were torn between the slow inspection, or the rapid peeling of clothes. Instead, they sat on the loveseat, their sweater dress hiking up their thighs enough to allow Jason to see where their legs met, the cavernous… “Wanna sit next to me?” Y/n offered, satisfied with Jason’s flustered reaction.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” he scrambled awkwardly, seating himself next to y/n, and concentrating on anything other than how he wanted to feel how y/n’s skin was underneath the leggings. He placed the plastic tins of cupcakes beside them, and as he settled himself onto the fabric of the couch, he felt his heart race. “So uhm, y/n, I just wanted to say I’ve had a really good time-”

Before Jason could finish his statement, y/n reached over and pulled him into a kiss, their hands instantly wrapping around the back of his neck. Jason’s hands grabbed y/n’s cheeks, holding their face in his hands as he inhaled sharply through his nose. He felt y/n’s fingers snaking into his hair, massaging them lightly as their tongue found its way to Jason’s mouth, deepening the kiss.

Y/n moved to sit on Jason’s lap, stradling it as their legs held his hips tightly. They broke the kiss after a few moments, staring straight at Jason, whose stormy gray and green were swallowed by his pupils. “Do you want this?”

Jason only managed a nod, finding his voice. “Y-yes. Yes I do.” he swallowed, and y/n bit their lip at the way Jason’s Adam's apple bobbed. Pulling their dress over their head, Jason only caught a glimpse of y/n’s skin, soft and peaks supple, before y/n pulled him into a deeper, hungrier kiss.

Y/n felt how hard Jason was becoming under them, and they began to grind their hips down, causing both of them to moan into the kiss. Y/n broke the kiss again, this time to relish in Jason’s quiet noises as he unraveled into a desperate, starved mess. Meanwhile, Jason’s eyes couldn’t pick a place to stay, and they wandered from y/n’s wide waist, up to the maroon racerback bra that they wore, the tops of their breasts calling out to Jason to be touched.

His hands were delayed in reacting, so it took a minute before he allowed himself to cup y/n’s breasts underneath the bra. He wrapped his arms around their waist to unclip the bra, removing it and sitting up to close their mouth on one of y/n’s hardened buds.

“Jesus, I should’ve known you were good with your tongue by the way you eat.” they breathed, arching their back in desperation. Their hips continued to circle against Jason’s clothed erection, but they snuck their hand under their leggings to rub their clit, a frantic attempt to relieve their tension.

The sight drove Jason’s hips to buck up, taking his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan. “Fuck, I’ll do anything.” he was disgusted by how he pled to y/n, his guard quickly relenting to the depths of desire he previously compartmentalized. Y/n moaned in response, their head falling back as they continued to rub their clit underneath their leggings.

Jason debated watching y/n come loose, but his carnal instincts spoke louder to him, and he wanted to be the one to lead y/n to their climax. Without another word, Jason picked y/n up by the hips and placed them on the loveseat, falling to his knees on the wood floor before y/n as he hooked his fingers into the sides of their leggings and pulled them from y/n’s legs in a swift motion.

“Jason, I-” y/n interrupted their own words with a moan as they felt Jason’s breath hot against their core, and they looked down at him.

“Before I continue,” he began, eyes dark with lust, “do you want this?” It was y/n’s turn to be speechless, nodding impatiently as a nervous chuckle left their throat. “Good.” Jason mumbled before dipping his head again, their tongue brushing against y/n’s heat. He watched every movement y/n made, and how their hips rose in tune with their filthy noises. In his heart, he knew this was fast, maybe too fast for him to comprehend, but his heart was quieter than a mouse, and all he searched for in his strokes was for y/n’s release.

He threw a leg over one of his broad shoulders, pressing his tongue deeper against y/n’s core as he continued, his fingers sprawled on y/n’s thighs. He groaned every time y/n cursed, the sin as sweet as a prayer. “Fuck,” y/n gasped, their peak rapidly approaching. “Keep going, Jason, please.” the pleas were dripping with masochistic torment, as he was steadily keeping y/n close to their orgasm, but not quite letting them taste bliss yet.

“With pleasure.” Jason muttered under his breath before he obeyed y/n’s wishes, eyeing them as he watched their jaw drop and profanities spill from their lips. He allowed y/n to ride his face, and while they came down from their high, Jason unbuttoned his slacks and began twisting his wrist, stroking his own cock at the sight of his date in a state of ecstasy.

After catching their breath, y/n noticed Jason’s fierce stare before their eyes moved to his cock. “What are you waiting for?” Their eyebrow cocked in jest.

Jason looked down, embarrassed to admit. “I didn’t think…I don’t have a condom, I’m sorry.”

“You clean?” Jason nodded. “Me too.”

Jason stopped stroking himself, palms resting on his thighs. “Aren’t you afraid of getting pregnant?”

Y/n shook their head. “IUD. Makes periods painful, but at least I don’t have to take a pill or anything like that.” They observed Jason’s expression soften, his anxiety lingering. “If you’re not comfortable, we don’t need to do anything tonight.”

The comment was what Jason needed to allow the remaining weariness to fall from his skin. He stood and shimmied the slacks off from himself, tossing them aside before he pulled y/n to their feet and into a kiss. Y/n immediately brought their hands back to Jason’s hair, tugging delicately to evoke a response from the tall man.

It worked. “Shit.” Jason hissed into the kiss, “Gotta have you.”

Before y/n could process the admission of desire, they felt Jason’s hands on their bare ass, lifting them up from the ground. Y/n wrapped their legs around Jason’s waist with a tight grip, and felt the cold air of the wall against their back. Jason had them pinned, and was impressed with how seamlessly he was able to carry their weight. “Fuck me, please.” Y/n knew it was the word to use if they wanted anything from Jason - at this rate, Jason would give y/n the world with the simple word.

Jason obliged, using a free hand to guide his cock into y/n, groaning at the warm, inviting velvet pulling him in. He rested his forehead against y/n’s, staring at them as he rocked his hips slowly, deeply. With y/n pinned against the wall, their legs around Jason, he was able to move a hand to their breast, thumbing their nipple as he thrusted.

He listened with keen ears to the overt sounds of pleasure that emitted from y/n. He was already so close, despite being in y/n for such little time, and it reflected in how poorly he was able to keep a steady pace, faltering each time y/n clenched around him.

“I’m gonna- y/n, I’m close.” Jason choked out, eyes still fixated on y/n’s.

Y/n interlocked their ankles behind Jason’s back, pulling him in deeper. They again tugged at Jason’s hair, harder this time, and whined, “Not yet. Please, not yet. You feel so good.”

Jason’s hands moved to y/n’s hips, gripping them tightly as he wound his hips up and thrusted harder into y/n, his positioning precisely hitting y/n at a spot that made them curse loudly.

Jason buried his head in y/n’s shoulder, unable to filter out the obscene noises that left his mouth with every move. He was in agony, such deep pleasure that it hurt, but he would be damned if he didn’t want to strip another climax from y/n.

He snaked a hand between him and y/n, lazily circling their sensitive clit, and returned his eyes to y/n’s face as their body twitched, quickly reaching their orgasm. Jason watched with intent, but continued his speed, the room filling with salacious sounds from either of them.

“Holy shit,” Jason choked out, voice lower than before, “Fuck, y/n.” his eyes finally shut, mouth falling open as he found release, letting out a strangled moan as his hips stilled.

Gently lowering y/n back onto their feet, Jason ushered to the box of tissues, pulling out a couple to clean y/n off, then himself.

Y/n hummed as he cleaned them gingerly on the loveseat, their eyes slowly blinking before finally falling to rest. After Jason disposed of the used tissues, he laid his eyes on the slumbering y/n, careful in his movements as not to wake them, and he used his coat as a blanket.

—-

Sunday evening

“Tim.” Dick admonished, repercussions sharp on his tongue. “Stop teasing your brother.”

Tim shrugged before locking his hands behind his head, resting on the armchair of the living room. “Who cares? Guy seems a bit chipper now.”

Jason was. After his date with y/n, he waited for them to wake up - which took nearly all night - and took y/n out for breakfast. They agreed to keep in touch (something Tim and Dick overheard while he was on the phone with y/n), and had his face buried in his phone since.

They were about to check out from the hotel (not quite at the time they planned, but with revisions and planning from the concierge), and Jason was slightly less threatening than usual.

Their trip back to Gotham was dreadful - their flight was delayed, and they had to land in Pennsylvania due to a rapidly approaching storm.

Yet Jason remained hopeful, even when greeted by the passive aggressive Bruce Wayne back at Wayne Manor. He caught wind of their antics and was displeased, but was hushed by a sympathetic Dick when he informed his adoptive father that Jason found someone.

“So…” Bruce lingered in the doorway of Jason’s room for long enough to stir discomfort in the young man. “Do you have any interest in bringing this person over, maybe for the holidays?”

Jason sighed on his bed, rolling his eyes. “Y/n’s coming out in a week. Don’t…tell anyone, though.”

#mine #my post #jason todd #robin #batfamily #red hood #dc #dcu #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x midsize reader #jason todd x afab reader

[brienneoftarth1989]

Undercover part 11

Miranda Hilmarson x fem reader

Previous / Next / Series

Summary: After months of being in court you were finally convicted. You were going to be spending the rest of you life in prison. You didn’t know how to feel and the only person you wanted to blame was Miranda but she wasn’t the problem

Warnings: Flashbacks of what has been mentioned in previous chapters

Requests open

———————————

“Guilty” you heard the judge say as your head fell to the ground, knowing deep down that this would be the verdict. You were escorted out of the courtroom before being taken to your courthouse cell before being moved to the Silverwater Women’s Correctional Centre.

These last few months have been tortuous in themselves and as you sat down in your temporary holding cell you couldn’t help to think back on everything that happened. After you were handcuffed you were brought to your feet as armed officers escorted you to an armoured truck.

You watched as Miranda was being looked after by a paramedic, checking her out for any physical injuries, which they wouldn’t find anyway. You took one last look at Miranda before being shoved into the back of the armoured truck. “I’m sorry” you said to yourself but you knew no one would hear you.

After that you were taken down to the police station where you spent the next few days being interviewed. You answered what felt like a hundred and one questions. Deep down you knew that it was about that many they asked because they wanted to know about everything that happened.

Not just with Miranda but with everything that has happened in your criminal life, which was a lot. After the cops had gathered enough evidence to book you for your crimes. They charged you with 13 counts of first degree murder as well as 13 counts of aggravated assaults which was basically adding up to spending the rest of your life in prison and you knew that.

With your charges in place, you then had to prepare yourself for the months-long trial. If it had just been the one charge you could have had it all sorted within a few days, but in total you had 26 counts against you and the court had to go through each one. Your court case has also gained a lot of media attention.

The public hate you after finding out about the cruel things that you have done, but weirdly you also have a small following that are supporting you. They are clearly fucked up just like you. The only reason you did what you did was because of your father. While all this attention was on you the only person you could think about seeing was Miranda.

You knew that eventually your paths would cross again as she would have to stand trial as a witness. That day didn’t take long to come around as what happened to her took up a majority of the case as it was the most recent. That day you were sitting in the courtroom, sitting in your suit waiting for the trial to start once again.

When Miranda was finally called to the stand, she entered the courtroom, dressed in a smart tailored suit. You looked in the direction she came but she did not make eye contact with you once and you didn’t blame her one bit. She sat down next to the judge before taking her oath to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Miranda was asked a load of different questions about what she learnt while she was undercover and what happened after she was found out to be an undercover officer. “I got recruited quite quickly into the gang. I didn’t need any background checks and y/n took a liking to me straight away. Even went as far as being on first name bases which I learnt that I was the only one who was allowed to call y/n by their actual name. Everyone else referred to her as ‘boss’” Miranda said as she shifted in the chair.

“I learnt about what happened to her previous victim who I ended up replacing in the gang. I was told that the last person who crossed y/n ended up chopped up in a suitcase and is now at the bottom of the ocean. I was scared shitless when I heard this knowing I could very well end up facing the same fate” Miranda continued with a shaky voice.

You could tell she was scared even from the memories of it all. “I was trained quite quickly amongst everyone and it wasn’t long before y/n decided to show me how she tortured her victims. I didn’t last very long in that room and we ended up having a massive argument where I told her that she was sick and messed up for what she was doing to these people”.

“When they came to have a chat with me later on she found out I was a cop. I was tossed in the white room where she tortured all her victims as I waited for what was about to happen next. But it never came. Yes she did torture me mentally but not once did she lay a physical hand on me which I always found bizarre. It did show me though that she is human and that she does care when she wants to. However I know that does not change anything that she did in the past”.

“Eventually I managed to convince y/n to turn herself in and after that moment she did just that, letting me go without a physical scratch on me. However, I have suffered mentally due to the torture I underwent and she has to be punished for all the things she has done” Miranda finished off as she spoke to the courtroom.

While Miranda was talking, you were looking over to the jury, trying your best to read their faces. All you could tell was that it wasn’t looking good for yourself. You wanted to be angry at Miranda but she was telling the truth. You knew that you would be called to the stand eventually to tell your side of the story. You did think about lying but what was the point? Everyone knew the truth so why lie?

Once Miranda had come off the stand it was your turn to speak your truth. You made your way up to the stand before sitting down where Miranda was just sitting. You looked around the courtroom as you felt everyone silently judging you and trying to work you out. You took the oath to tell the truth before you started to tell your side of the story.

“I will admit what I did was wrong and there is no way I can lie about everything that happened. I am confessing guilty to everything that I am being charged for because it is all true however I do want to tell you how I ended up in this situation at the age I am. My dad used to be the gang leader of my gang and a part of me never wanted to be associated with this side of him” you explained.

“However after my dad was killed by the police the gang was all I had left of him so I took over. I didn’t even realise how carried away I was getting with everything until it was too late. When I first met Miranda I felt this weird connection with her. I had never felt like this with anyone before and I felt like I could trust her just like that. I learnt later on that was a massive mistake on my part” you told the courtroom as everyone looked at you with a blank expression.

“After I realised she was a cop I immediately took her to what I call my white room which is where I tortured and killed most of my victims. But I knew before I even took her there that I wouldn’t be able to hurt her. Not physically anyway. I needed my gang to still think I was tough, so I would make her look injured but in fact I hadn’t laid a single hand on her. However I will admit I did torture her mentally which I am not proud of” you continued.

“Miranda then convinced me to turn myself in. I knew deep down that it was going to end with me in handcuffs, I just didn’t realise the one who would send me there would be the one who I developed feelings for. I just want to apologise to all the families that I have caused immense amounts of pain. I am willing to cooperate to help reunite the bodies of my victims” you sighed before sitting back down in your seat in front of the judge.

You knew deep down by cooperating and providing a sap story that they were suddenly going to find you not guilty but you did hope that maybe they would reduce your sentence a little bit. However then you realise if they did you would still probably end up dying behind bars due to the amount of crimes you have committed. The judge called for one final break where the jury went off to decide on their final verdict.

You sat in your cell potentially for what felt like forever before you were finally called back to the courtroom. You look around to see Miranda sat down in the courtroom for the first time since you had been caught. The judge started speaking but to you it was all white noise until he asked you to stand for your sentencing.

You stood up as he started talking once more. You zoned back in when you heard that one word “guilty”.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #constable miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x y/n #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake china girl #police #undercover #undercover series #gangs #courtroom #jail #life behind bars

[squeakygeeky]

Unforgotten Night: An Explainer Absolutely No One Asked For

Unforgotten Night is a mafia bdsm-themed Thai Boys Love series. No, not the one with the sexy bread and the surprisingly plot-relevant hedgehog and an actual budget, although weirdly they share one of the same sets with the same taxidermy rodent. This one is an absolute soap opera trash watch and I am loving it with absolutely no guilt, shame, or irony. I am way more invested than I should be in this mess and I am starting to find the main couple genuinely adorable. Is that the Stockholm syndrome talking? Let me try to give you a taste of this experience.

This is Kamol:

No, wait, this is Kamol:

But pretty much the whole cast gives off the vibe of kids playing dress up. Anyway, he’s a big scary mafia boss who does deals and shoots people dead, but his worst crime is wearing shoes on the bed. Multiple times! He also has a terrible back tattoo that is an affront to all reason and taste. It is of a tiger.

He actually has two pet tigers. The tigers are named Kemo and Whipped Cream. Whipped Cream is a good kitty, but as confused as the rest of us about what is happening.

Kamol is a dom and a sadist and apparently no boy in Thailand can satisfy him until he meets Kim. The titular unforgotten night is a completely unsexy “bdsm” scene featuring world’s looses cuffs and some candle wax and pretty much no touching. The main actors gave off the vibe of not wanting to be within a foot of each other. This continues through some horribly awkward kissing in Episode 4 and then suddenly in episode 5 they can kiss normally. I’m assuming this is when they finally got around to properly workshopping these poor actors.

Anyway, Kamol is completely whipped for Kim. He seems to have skipped any phase of being a harsh master who will be softened by love, despite having borderline kidnapped Kim. Instead he communicates normally, instantly forgives every dumb thing Kim does, and is all ‘of course you can hug my tigers someday.’ (Not a euphemism for anything, I don’t know if that makes it better or worse). Honestly it would probably be better for everyone if he kept Kim on a shorter leash. Perhaps literally. Even if no one found this sexy it would at least keep him out of the tiger cage.

This is Kim:

He ended up in this mess because he was so incapable of getting over an unrequited crush that he thought it would be a good idea to have a one night stand with a mafia boss and then eventually give into some light stalking and go go live with him. He has absolutely zero instinct for self-preservation, even relative to the baseline level of stupidity of all characters in this show, who have not even one brain cell to share among them. He needed to google to figure out he was a masochist. He’s an accountant but appears to be trying to give this energy:

To be fair to Kim, other versions of this archetype rush into danger even more rashly and pointlessly, and he is still managing to run his accounting business while working from home (Kamol’s mansion). Here’s Kim trying to do an audit or something around the mafia boss in his lap:

He appears to have perfectly nice parents who love him unconditionally and I am genuinely excited for them to meet Kamol. I don’t think they can be blamed for his messy drama queen side.

This is the product placement:

It is nutritional supplements and everyone is constantly drinking them in every possible circumstance and in every possible location.

This is Cherry:

She’s crazy and evil. That’s it. That’s her whole character, which normally would bother me, but she is naturally suited to this environment and I am in no way mad about watching her chew the scenery. Somehow she is Kamol’s old friend. She is trying to steal Kamol from Kim despite the fact that Kamol appears to be 100% gay, a sadist, and completely enamored of Kim and only Kim. Kim keeps telling her he doesn’t even care about Kamol and she is welcome to take him off his hands, but I don’t think even Cherry is dumb enough to believe that. The other villain is her brother or cousin or something, and they plot sometimes. He is also dumb as a bag of rocks. Perhaps in the future they will manage to kidnap Kim for more than five minutes.

This is Baiboon:

He is the nephew of Kamol’s housekeeper and therefore live in his house. Kim took one look at him and immediately adopted him and keeps wanting to hang out with him and buy him things. No one questions this. To be fair, Kim’s attitude towards Baiboon is 100%:

Meanwhile Baiboon took one look at the sexiest bodyguard and fell in love. He is currently trying to seduce him via omelettes. It appears to be working. I have no idea how old Baiboon is supposed to be. He claims to be a grownup, but this is in the context of not having been allowed to carry a glass of water across the house. Don’t ask. I know I called this an explainer, but actually I can’t.

This is the faucet. It was left running in episode 1 and the entire fandom is still stressed out about it:

#unforgotten night #thai bl

[jessilynallendilla]

So just read Gillian Flynn’s Sharp Objects and....I have some thoughts

I’ll put it out right now this book has child abuse, child sex abuse, rape, self-harm alcoholism, drug use ect.

Oh and there will be spoilers

This woman Camille is just a few months out of the psych ward and her boss who knows she has problems with her mother and hometown has her go back there for a like a week and stay with her mother to cover what is apparently the brutal serial killings of preteens cause they need the story before it breaks

This town is just awful it’s like Smallville’s evil twin

No character is redeemable, just awful people being awful to each other, even the murdered girls, they had violent streaks like biting and stabbing people in the eyes  

Camille’s childhood just sucked, you know those mothers who just don’t love their children, yeah that was Camille’s childhood. She wasn’t a perfect little doll for her mother so didn’t get mother’s love and it got worse after her younger sister died and Camille spirals into self-destructive behavior of cutting, promiscuity ect at 13

Camille is sympathetic because of it but she is also just an awful person making assumptions about people, calls a man sexist for thinking it’s a crime for a drunk teen girl to be gang raped, sleeps with a drunk kid who’s barely legal and has a girlfriend, goes to a teen party and does drugs with her younger sister and weirdly sexualizing things especially her 13-year-old sister  

Adora their mother is a narcissist who wants the conceptual doll like perfectness of a daughter and also the attention and praise of being a doting mother whenever her children are sick and wants them needy of her. All attention needs to be on her like playing up a thorn prick by having layers of gauze wrapped around her hands by her beta husband. Even personal relationships can’t happen naturally without her being in the middle so Camille couldn’t even get close with her stepfather. There’s absolutely no sympathy for Camille and her state either, there’s the faux care but when seeing how Camille can’t wear certain clothes without showing her scars just gives a nasty are you happy with what you’ve done to yourself.

And the sister, the sister, Amma is just A LOT, her mother dotes on her if she acts like a needy child and dresses her in frilly little girl dresses. Yet out of her mother’s eye she drinks, does drugs, gets with older high school boys, sets up her blacked-out friends to be gang raped, knows how to manipulate those around her. She makes Azula and the Heathers look like Sunday school kids. My question is her mother only gives her flowered dresses, so where is she getting super short skirts and tube tops, where is she getting these drugs she hides in her bra, and she learned to manipulate by acting pitiful and childlike, so how did she learn to be promiscuous flirt. And this is a small conservative town so no one’s seen her around like this and called her mom about her13-year-old daughter going around dressed like that and flirting with older boys.

That’s the whole thing about this awful town full of awful people, they see and know awful things are happening and do nothing.

So, the murders, these girls have been having their teeth pulled after they were killed, and they weren’t assaulted so everybody is wondering why and who dun it. Well over the course of the book it’s revealed Adora has Munchausen's by proxy and if you read you’ll remember how she was all doting as her children where sick and she’s insistent they take medicine that makes them sick. And she tried to get close to these two girls because she wanted to turn them into perfect little darlings, and they weren’t having that, one even bit her. So, with all this circumstantial evidence, a damning diary and a tox test on Camille Adora is arrested for the murders of her daughter and these two girls.

Well, the book isn’t over yet, Amma was more fucked up that anyone realized, you see growing up alone with a mother whose conditional love and attention you’ll only have if you play your role is threatened by someone, the solution is to get rid of that someone. So, this is all revealed when Amma was sent to live with Camille, she made a friend that Camille made the mistake of liking and who is later killed by the same MO as the two other girls. Over the book Amma’s dollhouse is brought up several times, how it’s an exact replica of Adora’s house and it’s brought up several times that Adora’s room has ivory tiles, you can’t get ivory anymore, but ivory is bone and during the house search those teeth weren’t found.  

So, yeah, generational trauma is a bitch.  

Everyone Thinks That We’re Perfect~

Please Don’t Let Them Look Through The Curtains~

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E~

I See Things That Nobody Else Sees~

If you can get past all the weird sexualization and just the general awfulness of all the characters you might enjoy this book, it’s only 250 pages, you can get through it in an afternoon. I give it three stars good concept but needed some reworking to make the experience more pleasant, but this was Gillian’s debut novel and I haven’t read any of her other work to know if she improved or everything is awful nihilistic cynicism is just her writing style.  

#books #sharp objects #gillian flynn #what I'm reading

[sir-subpar]

His Translator 15- Reflection

It's here at last! More Burtmin!

Below the cut! Warning: Blood/Gore is described, and violence.

Summary: Burt thinks about how his views of Henry have changed.

Dating Henry was certainly interesting. Then again, everything with Henry was interesting in one way or another.

Despite Henry being a literal crime boss, he was very sweet. 

Sometimes, Burt couldn't believe that they were dating. Then Henry would kiss his hand, or wrap his arm around him, and Burt would be reminded.

He had a boyfriend.

He had a boyfriend.

Burt hadn't dated much before Henry. He apparently went on a date once in high school, he didn't know it was a date.

In hindsight, he probably should've noticed the guy was flirting with him. He just assumed the guy was trying to butter him up so Burt would let him copy his homework or something. 

He remembered when the guy tried to kiss him, he cringed away in confusion.

Burt was in no way in the closet. He was gay. That was just a fact. Still, the guy wasn't his type. At all.

Burt looked at the topaz top hat Henry gave him months ago for his birthday. He left it on his work desk, by his computer. 

He smiled.

Apparently his type was "unpredictable, cuddly, dorky, kleptomaniac with a tendency to not think things through".

He heard someone knock on the door.

Burt pressed a button on his desk, the metal door slid open with a hiss, revealing the very man Burt was thinking about. Henry.

Henry walked in and took a seat next to Burt. He handed Burt a smoothie, and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

"Heh, thanks, Henry." A small part of Burt still had to fight the habit of calling him "boss". He was getting close to breaking it though.

Like usual, Henry signed to Burt. Asking him how his day was, updating him on heist plans, the works. It was… nice.

Really nice.

Burt had always been distant with the people around him, tuning them out unless it was necessary to interact. People normally only talked with him when they needed something anyway, so what was the point of trying to get closer? What was the point of an emotional bond in a transactional dynamic?

He only really liked his friend, Sven, and even then he kept him at arm's length for a good while.

He used to be so much more passionate about his work. He worked his ass off when he first joined the clan. When he first became the head of communications, he did so much. He even did jobs outside of his own required responsibilities. He just wanted to be appreciated for his efforts.

It was never enough. 

He was "too distant" to people. He was "too blunt". He "didn't dress appropriately". Reginald always complained that he wasn't approachable, and that he was creepy because he "didn't emote enough". It was always some little thing about him that seemed to irk people. No one bothered to get closer to him, so why should he try?

It was hard to shake off the apathy of it all. He stopped doing extra work, just sticking to being the head of communications. He didn't want to admit it, but he was worn out. He was tired of taking on extra work and getting no thanks for it. Why bother? It's not like he got paid extra. 

Then Henry showed up. He smashed through the window, held Reginald by the throat with his own golden chain, and took over the clan in a day. 

In one bold, sporadic maneuver, Henry, this complete stranger none of them had ever heard of, became the new chief. 

No one knew what to expect. 

Burt wouldn't admit this out loud to anyone, but a part of him felt the tiniest bit vindicated by Henry's overthrowing of Reginald. He took a bit of enjoyment out of seeing Reginald Copperbottom dragged around by this tall man in a worn out turtleneck sweater who never said a word during all the chaos. 

It was also weird how… weirdly intimidating Henry was. Sure, one could argue weather Henry was brave or just stupid. 

No one could argue that seeing what Henry did to Reginald's right hand man was… terrifying. Gruesome.

Right was always a force to be reckoned with. This hulking beast of strength that followed Reginald without question. If anyone dared to even look at Reginald wrong, he made an example out of them. 

Burt saw it all on his surveillance monitors. Countless bloodstains were smeared on the metal bridge, some of the red ooze dripped off the edge of the bridge. Seeing right on the floor, limbs cut from his body, a mangled face with one empty socket. There was something so surreal about seeing a powerful man on the verge of death. 

The sight, even through a screen, made Burt want to vomit.

 If it weren't for the fact Burt could hear Right through his headset, struggling to breathe as he choked on his own blood, he would've thought the man was dead by the visual alone.

He'll never forget how tense everyone was around Henry on his first day as chief. With Right still receiving medical care, and Reginald reluctantly following Henry around with a haunting look in his eyes, the power shift hung over everyone's head. The fact he wore Reginald's signature necklace on his hat like a badge of honor, was interesting.

Nobody knew what Henry was thinking.

The clan was quick to notice that Henry didn't talk. For the first couple weeks, Henry never made a peep. 

He was daunting.

Burt did what he did best: he hid under a mask of boredom with a monotone voice. He became "boring", in hopes to avoid whatever wrath Henry had.

Then, something strange happened.

When Right emerged from his medically-induced coma, it wasn’t surprising that he immediately started gunning for Henry, pissed that the man who mangled him was technically his new boss. He still wasn’t used to his cybernetics at the time, causing him to angrily stumble around, but that didn’t stop him from attacking Henry. That wasn't all that strange or out of character for Right.

No, the strange part was Henry’s response to it.

Burt, once again, only witnessed the assault through the computer and his headset, but it still surprised him nonetheless.

Right stormed into the cockpit of the airship, yelling obscenities at Henry, Reginald stood behind the cyborg. Burt could tell that Reginald was silently rooting for him.

He couldn’t remember everything Right yelled at Henry, but he did recall some. He remembered his “ears” hurting from Right’s loud voice thundering through his headphones.

“Did you think I was done with you!?” Right boomed. Henry’s expression was odd to Burt. He seemed to only be slightly surprised, like he saw this coming, but the rest of his expression was… hard to read.

“What do you have to say for yourself, huh!?” 

Henry was silent, still unreadable. The shock on his face had already faded away. He didn’t look angry, or scared. Just serious?

Right charged at Henry, tackling him to the ground with his hands around his neck. Henry was pinned with his back pressed against the ground.

“What? You think you’re too good to talk? Answer me!” Right tightened his grip, shaking with anger. Henry gripped Right’s wrists, trying in vain to ease the pressure. He could still breathe, but one could tell it was starting to get difficult. Reginald gently put a hand on his organic shoulder. “He doesn’t talk, dear.”

Right scoffed. “He definitely won’t when I’m done with ‘im,” Right’s glare intensified, “As far as I’m concerned, he’s no ‘chief’ of mine.” He growled, tightening his grasp on Henry’s neck. Henry began to gasp, his instincts desperate to get air in his lungs. Fear struck onto his features once more. 

It only took a few seconds, however, for Henry to make some strange decisions. 

Henry let go of Right’s wrists. His eyes glossy, probably tearing up, he shakily rested his hands to the floor, and stopped gasping. He stopped resisting. Stopped trying to breathe. Willingly.

Henry closed his eyes, resigning to his fate. 

In less than 10 seconds, he was already giving up?

It took an insane amount of willpower for someone to fight their survival instincts so quickly. With that sheer amount of self discipline, why wouldn’t he use it to save his own life? 

Apparently Right was wondering the same thing, he seemed to hesitate. His brows tense in confusion. Right let go of Henry’s throat, and backed away from him, hesitating as he did so.

Henry sucked in a sharp breath, and coughed. He put his hand to his neck, massaging it through the fabric of his turtleneck. He sat up, still relishing the fact he could breathe again.

It was then, Burt heard Henry's voice for the first time.

"I… did what I had to do. To get my freedom." He rasped. His voice was far more rough and strained than anyone expected, even for someone who just got strangled. It was bad. Everyone could tell that it hurt for him to speak.

Henry's face had so much emotion in that moment. His watery eyes, his pained face, it showed so much. Fear. Pain.

Guilt.

But another spark found its way into his eyes. Defiance. Determination.

He slowly made it to his feet, sshakly standing. He leaned back against the control panel, avoiding any buttons.

"If you want to kill me now, then do it… If you're willing to…" he paused, coughing. He took a deep breath, and continued. He stood a bit taller. "Willing to give me a chance.. to prove myself.. Either way.." Henry gave Right a determined glare. "I'll die a free man."

Burt couldn't help but think how different things were now. They lived on a space station. Henry had his right hand lady, Ellie. Henry, Reginald, and Right actually got along. Reginald has actually defended him in the past. Right helps Henry with his new cybernetics. 

Burt's opinion of Henry definitely changed. Substantially. 

Henry was once this strange, intimidating force. He was a quiet, eerie, stranger that was hard to read. He was distant.

 That's what everyone thought, at least.

As more time went on, Henry proved his loyalty to the clan. He showed that he was caring, determined, and still strange. He was a thief, he was a leader. He was isolated, now he's more social. He was funny, he was random, he was optimistic.

He was a kind, patient, loving boyfriend to Burt.

He was the first chief to thank Burt for his work. He was the only person who gave him a gift for his birthday when everyone else forgot.

He was decently attractive, in Burt's opinion. Something about Henry just made Burt's gay little heart twist.

Henry waved gently at Burt, snapping him out of his train of thought.

Shit. He did it again. Why did he keep zoning out around Henry? Henry signed to him, "You okay?" 

Burt chuckled, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. Didn't mean to tune you out." Burt fidgeted with his headset's Mic.

Henry smiled, gently cupping Burt's cheek. Henry kissed Burt on the cheek he wasn't holding.

Burt wasn't ready for kissing on the lips. So Henry worked with other types of kisses.

Burt rested his head on Henry's shoulder. Henry wrapped his arm around Burt's shoulder.

Burt let out a content sigh. "This is nice."

#henry stickmin #burtmin #burt curtis #right hand man #reginald copperbottom #ellie rose #fanfic #his translator #his translater 15 #henry x burt #henry stickmin x burt curtis #thsc

[changkyunsmilitarywife]

Obey Me! Headcanons

𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳

- kins Hannibal Lector from Hannibal NBC

- has a secret Only Fans

- enjoys dishing out punishments & tying people to the ceiling a little bit TOO much

- big dick energy

- he also has big milkers

- loves MCR

- I can see him as a total emo or scene kid in the early 2000s

- wine mom

- whenever his brothers are loud he's like a teacher that says "I'll wait" with his arms crossed

- constantly gets his cape/coat thing flipped over his head by Mammon whenever he walks the halls

- forces his brothers to do community service stuff with him for 'family bonding'

- has a Keurig that Diavolo gave him

- sets the Thermostat to 10 degrees Celsius (50 Fahrenheit)

- “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” energy

𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯

- deez nuts & your mom jokes

- unironically kins the Joker

- Kpop stan

- pretends to hate kids but actually likes them

- or he absolutely hates them. There's no in between

- unironically relates to Creep by Radiohead (but I think most people do so it's okay)

- plays Animal Crossing and owes lots of Bells to Tom Nook

- afraid of Barney, Big Bird & the Kool Aid man

- committed tax fraud at some point (if taxes exist in the Devildom idk)

- flat earther ☹️

- took him too long to learn how to tie his shoe laces

- or he just straight up doesn't know how

- uses axe as his choice of deodorant

- scared of spiders & bugs in general

- makes children cry (maybe that's why he doesn't like them or pretends he doesn't like them)

- he's a discord kitten for money

- cat fishes old men for money

- probably was one of "The Boys 😈💪🏻🦍🔫" at some point

- doesn't know how to swim

- bottom

- got his ears pierced at Claire's

- into bitcoin and cryptocurrency

- makes & sells shitty NFTs

𝘓𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯

- bullies kids online for fun

- wall puncher when he loses fortnite ☹️

- fucking sucks ass at Minecraft

- scared of Minecraft mobs esp the spiders

- discord mod....

- twitch streamer; secretly popular

- has a maid dress & wears it on stream

- participates in NNN...but fails

- when he says lol out loud he says it like "el oh el"

- had a nightcore phase

- his piss is a bright highlighter yellow color

- drinks G Fuel or Bang Energy

- "I have the power of god and anime on my side!"

- the weird kid who sits in the back of your class

- has the Creeper zip up hoodie

- unironically likes & listens to Bo Burnham

- "paper cut survivor 💪🏻" in his bio

𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯

- goes live on tiktok or devilgram & reads bedtime stories

- wears cat ears

- secretly has a Wattpad account or a tumblr where he writes fanfics

- he probably writes smut too tbh

- runs a podcast

- the type to start drama at RAD with asmo because they're bored

- actually likes Macbeth 🤢

- your average nickelback enjoyer

- accidentally fell into an animal’s cage at the zoo when he was a kid

- likes americanos ☹️

- super passive aggressive

- has one of those weird millennial signs that say stuff like "girl boss" or "don't talk to me if I haven't had my coffee yet"

- cat meme/reaction pic user

𝘈𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘴

- runs one of those school 'tea' & 'confession' accs on devilgram for RAD

- very famous beauty guru

- has an only fans & twitter

- unironically likes the kissing booth ☹️

- the type to start drama at RAD with Satan because they're bored

- moans super loud during face time/on a call if someone else walks in your room

- if he was in It he would think Pennywise is hot and try to seduce him

- Light Yagami apologist (I mean me too he's hot sorry not sorry)

- watches Ru Paul's drag race

𝘉𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘣

- tattles on any of his brothers if Lucifer bribes him with food

- takes gym class to seriously, especially dodge ball

- plays cooking mama on his crappy old DSI

- Candy crush player (weirdly good at it)

- good at pole dancing

𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳

- Radiohead stan

- likes fnaf & the lore

- hot topic or Spencer's employee

- con artist for fun

- avid True Crime podcast listener

- has the strawberry or chocolate cow scented pillow pet

𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘰

- has a folder in his photos that's just full of pictures of Lucifer

- has a prayer candle with Lucifer's face on it as a "joke" (or is it ?🤨)

- "blackmails" Lucifer with candids Diavolo took of him (mainly the shirtless ones he took when they were on vacation)

- he radiates energy of that one dad who tries to be 'hip'

- had to get bailed out of jail by Lucifer (Ik he's the prince but idc)

- says memes like "may-mays"

- he probably accidentally summoned the wrong person/human for the exchange program

- scared of roaches

- his favorite Disney movie is Ratatouille

- kins Remy the rat

- big mommy milkers

- has a pickle hate page on devilgram where he just posts pictures of pickles and slanders them

- King Julien

- also enjoys Ru Paul's drag race & forces Lucifer to watch with him

- pours milk before cereal

- has a pair of crocs that are decorated with jibbitz with Barbatos & forced Lucifer to get a pair so all 3 of them can match

- likes minion memes

- has a Burger King crown

𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴

- weirdly good at hacking and coding??

- business major vibes

- or engineering major

- runs a tea devilgram acc where he reviews and rates different brands of tea

- malewife & girlboss energy

- goes on Omegle with Diavolo

- knows how to Doxx people

- takes Diavolo to Chuck E Cheese

- has those old lady candies in his pocket

𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯

- actually a super horny mf

- he is not innocent as you think

- "that's what she said jokes" but says it in his head

- doesn't get worried when Luke is gone bc he knows that Luke will come back

- uses Facebook

𝘓𝘶𝘬𝘦

- has a burn book that features all of the demon brothers

- has Pokémon cards and is actually pretty good at the game

- Jiggly Puff is his fav Pokémon

- jumps around with a contorted face whenever he stubs his toe because he REFUSES to curse

- has the frog Build a Bear plushie

- knitting/crocheting master

𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘯

- sucks at card games so he subtly cheats with magic

- trolls on twitter or any app tbh

- Star Wars fan

- doesn't know how to drive

- or if he does know, he's just shit at it

- does magic at kids birthday parties

- likes Harry Potter but critiques it with how “inaccurate” it is

- turns the brothers into toddlers for fun

- he definitely banged Asmo at some point

- listens to Weezer

- uses Uno cards to do Tarot readings

#obey me #headcanon #headcanons #fanfic #lucifer #obey me lucifer #the great mammon #obey me mammon #obey me levi hc #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #lord diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke

[chrsa]

the cash money look

#you can see the fire in his eyes #one punch man #saitama #weirdly dressed crime boss #opm road to hero #broke saitama

[wordsoflittlewisdom]

Watching bop again

I kinda forgot Cass was at the roller derby game. Love how all the characters are connected

Why does Roman’s voice...sound like that

Boss Bitch is weirdly nostalgic now

I like that the whole roller derby team is wearing like. team jackets. and harleys got her whole fringe sleeves thing going on

YES LOVE WHEN SHE THROWS THE NECKLACE AWAY

The chemical plant blowing up as fireworks was a very Harley choice

“So I’ll start where I fucking want” four minutes ago

huntress huntress huntress huntress huntress

I read somewhere that this huntress and Montoya scene was one take and they just changed the lighting to show the change

romans middle name being beauvais is probably the clearest clue they could have given that he was from a rich family

Love that Renee finds the necklace and knows Harley and the joker broke up. I like this idea that superheroes/villains are kinda like celebrities in this world

The egg sandwich scene is great what more can I say

Love that there’re cars and people just living their lives in this city

It’s a crime that we never see Harley wear this glittery fanny pack

The music is really good in this

It’s neat how the line between her narration and her dialogue is blurred, like how she’ll say the first part of something in narration and the second part in dialogue

Huntress’s little flute theme

And Montoya knows Cass; c o n n e c t i o n s

Montoya’s been going after Roman, too

And now we’re flipping back to the bertinelli massacre and diamond

Even if the whole missing diamond plot isn’t that unique, everything’s woven together so neatly

And now Dinah and Renee are on the phone about Cass and the diamond

It’s all connected

Harleys whole “I’m here to report a terrible crime”—she could have just run in there but she wanted to be Dramatic

I do wish the vocals were a little louder here maybe?

Big fan of this fight choreography

Harley pausing on a frame where she’s making a weird face before rewinding to explain about the diamond—it’s so rare to ever get to see women like. making weird faces in movies. All the women in his this are gorgeous but they don’t always have to be; they look beat up after fights and get dirty and make weird faces and it’s great

Dinah singing? Exceptional

“Loans, liquidity, laundering” ah yes the three L’s of illegal business

I unironically listen to Black Canary’s man’s world.

I like that everyone just calls Dinah “Canary”

“I’m all on my lonesome. It’s great” Harleys even an unreliable narrator when she’s just talking

I’ve really never seen a movie that feel like it’s from the female gaze visually as much as this one—all the rings and earrings, the hair, the makeup, it feels like what women might fantasize about dressing like

Dinah yelling “you motherfucker!” While beating some creeps up is quality

What time of day is it? Dinah would probably be leaving early in the morning, but I Refuse to believe that Roman would be awake particularly early any morning

She either canary is leaving her nightclub singing gig in the late morning/early afternoon or roman is still awake from the night before and is going to go to sleep soon

Cass and Dinah in the same building. (Bernie voice): I am once again talking about the connections

I’ve riffed on this before but i refuse to believe that Roman can drive

This Dinah and Renee scene establishes character, backstories, and moves the plot along all at once

Jesus some of ewan mcgregor’s acting in this is painfully bad

I love that Cass has a big bomber jacket and longer, looser shorts

Jurnee’s abs wow

The lights from behind the hands with the eyes behind Harley, who’s surrounded by people and then Roman and Victor emerge from the back, whispering to each other? Beautiful

One of the grievances roman has against Harley is “constantly interrupting him, like I’m doing right now”

Harleys “you’re really not as complicated as you think” bit is almost satirical of this cult we’ve created of “complicated” white male movie villains who have massive fan followings (cough cough joker)

Interesting that Roman holds the knife to Harleys face but hands it off to Victor to do that actual cutting

Someone handed Roman a bowl of popcorn

Harleys pocket tampon

It’s diamonds are a girls best friend yeah babey!

The male backup dancers are wearing muzzles/masks (Roman has one too for a split second) is an interesting flip on the way women are typically the ones being silenced, as well as Harleys desire to silence the men around her and be the one telling and controlling her own narrative

“Hey! you’re that singer no one listens to!” “Hey! You’re the asshole no one likes!”

Harley with her glitter gun

Harleys reaction when the sprinklers go off is perfect—Margot makes her feel like a living cartoon

This cell block fight scene is a showstopper

I like that cass doesn’t immediately want to stay with Harley. It gives her some agency in a story where she’s mostly just following the curveballs life throws her

Harleys little stare straight into the camera when cass admits to eating the diamond

Harley at the grocery store really emphasizes that she’s a total weirdo

I think I heard somewhere that the pic of child Harley with the nuns is a pic of young Margot??? Not totally sure though

Cass not knowing who the joker is goes with the whole supers are like celebrities thing—cass probably follows a whole different group of them (like how most kids follow different celebrities than their parents)

Huntress huntress huntresssss

“Give me number 32. Mild”

This kid in helenas flashback doesn’t really look like she’s grow up to look like Mary Elizabeth Winstead

This filming in this flashback has so much style

Helena practicing in the bathroom mirror with her drawing and her multiple bottles of travel mouthwash

We’re in the scene where Roman makes the girl dance on the table and oh god it’s so uncomfortable

No no no no no not this hate this

Alright that nightmare’s done

“and that’s why you should never pay federal income taxes”

Harley offering to bring cass to Roman after hearing doc say “business is business is interesting

OH ITS HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT TIME

Dinahs car is yellow because it’s...canary yellow

Roman putting on the mask is cool and all but he’s just gonna have to take it back off to get changed

This Harley vs Renee fight is fun because they keep mirroring each other—they’re fighting each other, but they’re really on the same side

The way the women all kind of circle each other at first and don’t immediately get along

Cass popping up with the gun also gives her some agency—she’s at the end of her rope with the diamond and being betrayed by Harley

“I am nOT THE CROSSBOW KILLER”

The way Huntress sounds so uncertain when she says “...and now I’m done” Mary’s acting really popped off

Roman’s a bitch but I like his outfits

Helenas little smile when Harley says “you just killed his BFF”

I love how excited Harley is when they all agree to work together

Roman’s giving his little speech in the back of a pickup truck?

When all the guys turned around with masks on I got chills

“I love this chick she’s got rage issues.” “I DONT HAVE RAGE ISSUES”

Huntress stabbing the guy while going down the slide is peak cinema

This set lights up as the scene progresses and reveals more

I love love love that Helena is genuinely caring towards Cass and recognizing that children shouldn’t have to go through trauma like her

“When the fuck did she have time to do a shoe change?”

THE HAIR TIE YEAH

Forgot to mention this but it’s a stroke of genius for this place to be called the booby trap

Love me some canary cry

“Told ya she had a killer voice”

Harleys chase was a real group hurrah—the canary cry cleared the way and pushed her forward, Huntress towed her, Renee gave her the gun with one bullet

Cass and Roman are just sitting in the back seat. That must have been an awkward car ride

Cass pulling the gun away from Roman when he tries to shoot up at Harley when Harleys on top of the car is elite

Damn this is one foggy pier

When Harley starts with “your protection is based on the fact that people are scared of you” you expect her to say that it’s wrong or something but she says “I’m the one they should be scared of” this movie messed with tropes so much

That also includes the whole “one bullet” thing—Harley misses with her one bullet, and you don’t really know what’s gonna happen next

“I took your ring”

You can pinpoint exactly when Harley and Roman realize what Cass did

I’d put the entire taco scene here if I could

Renee moving the drink away from cass shows her caring side—she doesn’t want a kid to get into alcohol and make the mistakes she did

“Does she always talk like the cop in a bad eighties movie?”

Harley and Cass stealing the car is a fun way to show that she may be on the side of the good guys sometimes, but that doesn’t necessarily make her one

“Woman” by Kesha

Wow the outfits in this scene are iconic

I mean they are in the whole movie but I especially like these

Cass riding around with Harley and a hyena, wearing cute outfits and learning the ways of chaos

Harley got her sandwich!

The credit art for this movie is cool

Especially how they represent each character

In conclusion this is still my favorite movie

I know I’ve been kinda absent recently, but watching this again has really reminded me how much I love it. I got really busy but I’m going to Make An Effort to be a contributing member of the bop fandom again.

#birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #birds of prey #harley quinn #huntress #black canary #Renee Montoya #Cassandra Cain #Roman sionis #Victor zsasz #words of little wisdom

[kri-babe]

A Bad Experience ᅳ Word Count: 2143 Summary: TAKE THE TRASH OUT. Warning: Implied Sexual Assault. Murder.

I was a pretty average kid. I wasn’t excessively popular, but I wasn’t an outcast either. I liked my silence and my own company, but I didn’t mind the company of my friends either. I had my own little pack of misfits that I ran with but we were average kids. We hung out where we could, but it wasn’t all that often between our classes or after school. My best friend in school was… sort of unorthodox, and a lot of people would have probably questioned it, and had my mom been any better, she would’ve told me to stay the fuck away from him.

And with good reason…

Mr. Rhodes was the school janitor; dressed persistently in a dark blue jumpsuit, and jingling whenever he walked because of the keys he carried on his belt. He was a fairly recluse guy, and the other kids thought he was pretty creepy. I think that was because of the fact that he had this weird tendency to turn up in random places, or… maybe it was the scars that mangled the side of his face. Hell, now that I think back on it, it could’ve even just been the vibe he put off. The smile that was just a little too friendly… the dark eyes that were just a little… too happy.

I guess I was a bad read of people…

But for whatever unfortunate reason, I liked Mr. Rhodes… I spoke to him regularly whenever I saw him, treated the guy like he was just another friend of mine. He was friendly enough, and he didn’t treat me like I was just some dumb fuckin’ kid in his way, wasting his time.

I never told him about it, but I think he put it together anyway - the problems back at home. He’d told me one day that I could hide out in the janitor’s closet if I ever needed a place away from everyone else. I hadn’t thought anything of it. Just a friendly gesture from a decent guy everyone overlooked because he had an unsavory job, and scars on his face.

I never once stopped to wonder why he was working at that school, why he was a janitor, and why the other kids avoided him… why the teachers avoided him. I never really thought beyond the idea that they were just mean. That maybe it was pack instinct that kept the flock together, safe in their numbers where the wolf couldn’t easily get to them.

No, I had to be the black sheep - the one that sticks out like a sore thumb, all the easier to snatch.

Too bad I didn’t see his fangs until he found me in the janitor’s closet one day. It’d been a shit day, mom was off her meds, had thrown away some of my stuff because it was ‘Satanic’. I didn’t want to put up with the teachers, nor the other kids, so I hunkered down in that little, cramped closet to just ride the day out. Where the fuck else was I going to go? Home? As if. If only I’d thought of some place else. If only I’d refused to trust him too.

He asked how long I’d been there, and I told him since school started. Guess that meant no one would notice one missing kid. The minute he closed the door, I felt something. A sinking brick in my gut and it only got worse when Mr. Rhodes knelt beside me, rubbed my back and told me that it’d all be okay. He could make it better. … I must’ve been twelve.

I stayed in the closet for the rest of the day. I was too scared to come out until well after school had ended….

I told her anyway. I knew she wouldn’t hear it, I knew she wouldn’t believe me. I knew she wouldn’t be on my side. But sometimes… just… sometimes. She was mom. I told her anyway. I felt the strike far before I had seen it coming.

“No son of mine will be an incubus, not in this house. God will excise this evil from you, you pustulant seductor.”

I still have scars from the whipping.

So… what now…

What do you do when your childhood fucking rapist comes into your place of work… and recognizes you…?

“Well, well,” Chimed a familiar, snake-like voice from just a few steps behind.

Alby blinked tiredly a few times, staring at the bleary image of the DVD cases in the cart and in his hands. As per the norm, the night had been slow - Blockbusters wasn’t really what it used to be, and the few customers he did get were often high as hell, and just looking for cheap movies to rent. He’d had maybe one other customer earlier that evening, before he’d set to putting back the returns.

Another blink, Alby slowly frowned as it pushed its way back to the surface - that rotten, fetid trauma he’d buried years ago. The boy straightened, blinking, and turned his head to peer over his shoulder as Rhodes stepped nearer, grinning just like the wolf he’d always been. Alby’s frown hardened as his good eye slowly cleared from the haze of the pot that clouded his head.

“If it isn’t little Alby… and you’ve grown up to be so handsome too… I’m honestly surprised to still see you around, kiddo… I was so sure your mother would be the end of you…” He reached closer, tilting Alby’s chin in his direction with a finger to better see the patch that was taped over the young man’s right eye. “Looks like she might still be,” He smirked, releasing him then, and instead, placed his hand over Alby’s back.

Broad, slender - he’d shot up like a beanstalk since they had last seen each other. Rhodes looked no different somehow, and Alby wasn’t sure how to take that. But the hand over his back summoned something from the depths of his being. A cold sweat broke out over his porcelain skin and Alby could feel a tremble push its way into his arms and fingers.

“So, how’s life been, kiddo…?” Alby frowned again, staring silently at Rhodes. Was this a joke? Was this guy just… playing fucking stupid? Like they’d always been buddy buddy? Like he fucking hadn’t raped him all those years ago? What was this? Was he trying to get cozy with him so he could do it again?

“What’s the matter, Alby~? Cat got your tongue?”

Rhodes’ hand slid lower, and whether that was to withdraw or not didn’t matter anymore when Alby suddenly exploded into motion with a left hook that connected directly with Rhodes’ jaw. He fell like a sack of bricks and Alby stood there in total silence once more - naught but the sound of his own shaky breathing to accompany him as he glared down at Rhodes’ body. He must have hit him just right… and certainly just hard enough, his knuckles protested about it.

Fuck…

What the fuck was he going to do with this fucker… call the police? But for what… a crime he’d committed twelve years ago? This was assault… and he was positive that his boss wasn’t going to be happy about his one fucking employee assaulting a customer…

The walkie-talkie on the back of Alby’s hip crackled and popped, and there it came: his boss’s chipper voice.

“Hey, Al, you there, bud~?”

He’d never seen the guy’s face, but his manager was always so weirdly happy… it was unsettling at best.

“Fuck…” Alby breathed, still shaking as he pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt and brought it to his lips, “Y-yeah, what’s up?” Just… be calm. Act normal. Everything was fine. He never even came into the store, and it was late. They were just between the shelves. No one would know.

“Hey, Al, there ya are! Listen, bud!” Popped the walkie.

“Remember what I told you about the trash? Those no-good lay-about trash guys don’t come by anymore, so there’s an incinerator in the basement of the building you can use to take out the trash! It’s pretty big, too, remember? So don’t fall in!”

Alby shook harder, blinking widely.

He was so sure he could hear something else just under his boss’s peppy voice. Something unnatural, just under the static, like worms in the dirt, whispering the earth’s secrets into his ears.

‘T̴̨̥̥̮̖̮̠̰̗͖̘̺͒̂̿̅͠Ā̴̫̖̬̜̝̟̠̥̿͌̃͐ͅK̶̟̻̤̼͇̭̻̗̖̖̮̤̺̺̅̐̐̊̀̅̔̈́͑̔̄̀̕̚͝ͅE̶͔̥̺̩̖͓̗̱͉̤̮̭̲͎̺̫̋͛̋̒̊̄̕ ̶̧̬̙͉̮̦̮̭̘͙͌̈́̈Ţ̶̨̛̛̫͖̙̫̺̘̰̘̳̮̘̞̊̏̅͊͋̍͂̄̅́̌͜͠͠͝ͅH̸̨̟͕͍̝̠̫̔̏̓͘͜͝Ě̶̡̨̨͖̫͚͇͍̰̻̪̭̰̃̈́́̈́̌̇̔̒̂̑́̉̿̓̑͘ͅ ̴̭̮͍̟̩̯̍̉͂̂̒͗̀̈́̐̒͘T̷͓̱͎͔̦̫̲̹̰̠̬̤̹͂R̸̡̹͔͓̳͎̣̗͙̥͙̱̯̂͊̌̽͗̈́̎̅̇͘͝A̴̳̳̤̣͐̑̄͘ͅS̷̩̲͖͒̏́̆̋Ḩ̶͔̥͉̪͓͉͇̠̭̓͋̀͒͘͜ ̸͇͎̘̮̀̊͐̈͋̽̑̇̔̄̋̈́͜͝͠Ơ̷̡̳̰̳͈͙̙̞͔̹̦͍͋̋̑̿̿͂̾̊̀̓͑̎̕̕͘̚U̶͔̩̘͖͖̗͚̞̲͓̬̟̥̺̅̓̂͑̏́͝͠͝T̸̺̹̤̮̆̓̽̈́̀̒̉͒̄̓̀̒͒͠,̶̪̤̯̖̩̯̘̾̒͊̇̂͂͗̑̂͋͋̈́̏͐̏͜͝ͅ ̶̡̡̣͓̠̭̫̟̫͕̔͆͋̈́̈́̌̊̓̈́̍͌̈́̔̐́̾͜͝A̵̲͓̝͚͚̖͖͙͉̹͍̗̦͙͔̭̞͑͊̃̓̿̑̓̑̾̃͊L̵̨͖̣̜̬̜̮̲̦̞̥̑̓͑̄͌̎̿͛̈́̈̂͝Ḇ̷̯͎̝̮̯͖͈̰͔̦͕̫̭̬̙̉̉̅ͅY̵̡̪̹̲͚̭͈̞͚̆̓͒̍̚͘͝͝͠.̷͚̳̘̜͙̺̝̳̌̀̔̑͒͗̐̌̈̃͌͝͠͝’

Alby swallowed, and looked back down at the body that lay sprawled across the carpeted flooring, lips working to form words he couldn’t find the ability to add noise to.

“Still there, Al!?” He jolted.

“Y-yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m here. I-I -- I’m on it, boss.” The walkie was hooked back onto his belt and Alby slowly exhaled.

Did he… know…? There was no fucking way this was coincidence. Trash day was usually at the end of the week… it was fucking Tuesday.

Could he do this…?

The basement door swung open, and Alby panted softly, grunting as he readjusted the man draped over his shoulder and slowly began down the steps into the blackness of the basement. There were lights, but the incinerator was often just bright enough that its orange glow was more than enough to light his way. That… beast of a machine. Steel and fire - the belly of a dragon, and the teeth to match.

When he first came to work here, there was no basement. There was no incinerator. There were large trash bins outside that the garbage men would occasionally come get, because the Blockbuster didn’t produce enough trash. Alby was the only employee. But after a time, he’d gotten word from his boss that the garbage men wouldn’t be stopping by anymore. They’d decided the place wasn’t worth the stop anymore, due to how infrequently they had to pick up from it.

The next day, there was a note about the basement. The incinerator. The shop never shut down. There were no construction workers. There was no equipment. No signs that the building had been added onto. It was just… there.

Every step thunked down the stairs as Alby disappeared down into that blackness, and squinted the moment he came around the corner to face the incinerator. It didn’t often make much noise… but it was growling now. Like a ravenous beast, it’s teeth clanking against its jaw in anticipation. Alby hesitated. He often wondered if this fucking thing was alive… the way it acted. But it was so easy for him to chalk it up to the fact that it was probably just funky machinery. He swallowed, and drew nearer, pulling the lever to open the jaws of this hellbeast which roared hungrily, releasing a burning belch of hot air into the basement. Alby squinted against the blast, and stared into those roaring flames.

The weight on his shoulder never felt heavier… and he wasn’t sure he could do this…

The guy… raped him but… this was murder, and no one would ever know…

But they never knew about his rape, either, did they…?

The walkie talkie crackled and popped, fuzzing loudly against the rumbling of the incinerator. There were no words that spilled through the static, and yet… he could hear that distant sound once again. As if there was just… too much interference, or the frequency wasn’t

quite right.

‘T̴̨̥̥̮̖̮̠̰̗͖̘̺͒̂̿̅͠Ā̴̫̖̬̜̝̟̠̥̿͌̃͐ͅK̶̟̻̤̼͇̭̻̗̖̖̮̤̺̺̅̐̐̊̀̅̔̈́͑̔̄̀̕̚͝ͅE̶͔̥̺̩̖͓̗̱͉̤̮̭̲͎̺̫̋͛̋̒̊̄̕ ̶̧̬̙͉̮̦̮̭̘͙͌̈́̈Ţ̶̨̛̛̫͖̙̫̺̘̰̘̳̮̘̞̊̏̅͊͋̍͂̄̅́̌͜͠͠͝ͅH̸̨̟͕͍̝̠̫̔̏̓͘͜͝Ě̶̡̨̨͖̫͚͇͍̰̻̪̭̰̃̈́́̈́̌̇̔̒̂̑́̉̿̓̑͘ͅ ̴̭̮͍̟̩̯̍̉͂̂̒͗̀̈́̐̒͘T̷͓̱͎͔̦̫̲̹̰̠̬̤̹͂R̸̡̹͔͓̳͎̣̗͙̥͙̱̯̂͊̌̽͗̈́̎̅̇͘͝A̴̳̳̤̣͐̑̄͘ͅS̷̩̲͖͒̏́̆̋Ḩ̶͔̥͉̪͓͉͇̠̭̓͋̀͒͘͜ ̸͇͎̘̮̀̊͐̈͋̽̑̇̔̄̋̈́͜͝͠Ơ̷̡̳̰̳͈͙̙̞͔̹̦͍͋̋̑̿̿͂̾̊̀̓͑̎̕̕͘̚U̶͔̩̘͖͖̗͚̞̲͓̬̟̥̺̅̓̂͑̏́͝͠͝T̸̺̹̤̮̆̓̽̈́̀̒̉͒̄̓̀̒͒͠,̶̪̤̯̖̩̯̘̾̒͊̇̂͂͗̑̂͋͋̈́̏͐̏͜͝ͅ ̶̡̡̣͓̠̭̫̟̫͕̔͆͋̈́̈́̌̊̓̈́̍͌̈́̔̐́̾͜͝A̵̲͓̝͚͚̖͖͙͉̹͍̗̦͙͔̭̞͑͊̃̓̿̑̓̑̾̃͊L̵̨͖̣̜̬̜̮̲̦̞̥̑̓͑̄͌̎̿͛̈́̈̂͝Ḇ̷̯͎̝̮̯͖͈̰͔̦͕̫̭̬̙̉̉̅ͅY̵̡̪̹̲͚̭͈̞͚̆̓͒̍̚͘͝͝͠.̷͚̳̘̜͙̺̝̳̌̀̔̑͒͗̐̌̈̃͌͝͠͝’

There it was again - that compulsion. This subtle… feeling. Like someone or something was just… gently pushing on his mind. On his thoughts. Compelling him, his wants. With a deep breath, and another soft grunt, Alby bounced the man from his shoulder, and into the blazing fires of the furnace, tossing in his legs to follow the body as embers shot out in every direction. He hadn’t even fully straightened when those steel jaws banged shut, and Alby threw a widened brown eye over the lever. Was it faulty…? Holy shit.

The blow to his jaw wasn’t enough to keep Rhodes down now… the screaming started shortly after, and Alby couldn’t take his eyes off the furnace as that blackening silhouette within thrashed and struggled frantically for an escape that would not be found.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a few minutes… but those minutes felt like an eon, and Alby knew Rhodes suffered… too bad it was over so soon.

He stared quietly at the furnace as the roaring dulled to a soft, content rumble, fingers shaking by his thighs as he searched in vain for signs that Rhodes yet remained within that beast’s blazing belly.

The walkie talkie popped and fuzzed.

There were no clear words again… but he could have sworn that he heard the faintest sound of a voice… just… just out of range.

'̶̡͙̗͔̒̄͒͛̆̈́͐̏̐̃̈́̎͝Ṋ̷̱̙̝̋́͐̑̀̋̐̽̽̐͂̆͐͝Ơ̵͔̒̀͋̋̌̂B̸̖̞̘̬̥̺͓̜̘̟͙̥̑̍͑́̍̈́̿̉̈́̽͑̏̀͘ͅO̸̡̬͉̞̱̪͚̭̼̬͉͊̉̆͛̍̒̊D̷̥̩̮̈̃̊̈́͂͊̔͑̈́̽̇͘̚ͅẎ̵̦̺̯̣̦̲̣̐̽̀͆̽̊̏̃ ̷̨͖̖̪̥̹̣̠͕͔̤͎͍̹̽̈̕͝L̵͔̜͇͖̮̰͙̤̰̠̂́̄̓̌̑̄̐̈̚͝Ǐ̸̗̭̬͍̬͙̗̘͔̃͝͠ͅK̸̙̼͙̳̹̫͚̩͎͍̈́ͅȄ̵͙̏̉̏͛̈̎̒̐̆̿Ş̴̧͙̤̳̤̅̿̈̉́̌͂̐̿͠͝͠͠ ̵̢͙͍̮̳̐̅͐̀͐̅͗͂̈́́̈́A̸̧͉̟̯͔̠̮͚̻̭͑̿͒̈̿̅͒͛͛̽͠ ̶̡̢̹̭͉̳̙̣̺̘̍͂́̏͝K̵̻͉̳̘͍̩̦͎̱̙̩̝͍͌͒̈́̐̃͘͜I̵̺̝̣̩͕̱̱͇͔̊̅͒D̴̨͔̘͎̝̫͕͙͚̥̦̘̙̳̀̔͑͘D̵͔̤͓̗͈͍͕̱͎̭̀Ī̴̱̲́̇͂̐͠Ē̶̡̪̅́̑̃͊̎̐́͐̂̊̓ ̵̨̱͎͚̣͖̘͓̻̬̗͖͊̊̉̇̽͑̓̋͊̾̾F̶̡̡͈̭̼͇͇͎̙̂̽͛͐͒̈́̅̉̎Ḭ̷̧̛̮̤̣͓̖͈̐̏̀̅͗́͘͝D̸̛̦͊D̸̡̢͈̞͙͔̜͖̖̮̻͖̒͆̆̒̆̿͋̌̒́̅̚͘͠Ļ̵̻̼͚̝́̿͋̚E̸̝͎͍͂̇̽̃͋͊̐͌͝͠ͅR̶̡̞͉̞̩̱̝͚̗͙̦̐́̉̑̈́̆̀͌̀̾̅͘ͅ'̷̨̧͔̣̜̺̪̰̜̦̮̖̺͑̂̃̊̔͂̈̀͐̃͜

#writing #writers of tumblr #creative writing #fiction #this is just something #i kinda got inspired to write #and it bothered me for about three days #after i made a new sim lmao #i'm proud of it #but it's a little dark #so read with discrection

[queenofgotham800]

Freedom and Love

(Roman Sionis x Reader)

Requested by: @oneandonlyizabelle

(A/n): Thank you so much for request. I had much fun, writing this imagine, I hope you will enjoy reading it.💜🍸

Warnings: Gramatical Errors, swearing, death/or at least Injury, kidnapping

Nights in Gotham City were never peacefull. This city was living it's own life like always. Through the day, crime wasn't sleeping and in these hours it was just worse.

You were running through Gotham's dark alleys, turning your head behind, every time that it was possible. You knew you had no chance against him, he was the Dark Knight after all, the protector of Gotham. What would Roman do? This question popped into your mind. Roman Sionis, was your boyfriend, owner of the Black Mask club, which was now too far from your aproach.

The question; What would Roman do?, was not right becouse he wouldn't get into situation like this at all.

Few days ago

You were sitting behind the table in Roman's and your's apartment, since you already moved there.

Roman was sitting by your right side, and Victor was sitting in front of you, at the end of the table.

Victor had complicated relationship with you, same with Roman, it wasn't negative, but weirdly possitive. You could say that he liked you both.

That day, you were having breakfast with them, eating little cupcakes from the plate.

"Boss, we still have no idea, who is that crossbow killer guy," Victor mumbled as he ate cupcake.

"Victor, I told you that you should't talk as you eat." Roman looked nervous and then, he realized what Victor told him and smashed his cup on ground.

"WHAT! I sent few people after him, what happened?" Roman screamed after Victor.

"Roman, babe, I told you that you should't smash those cups," you told, even when you knew that this may don't help to his current situation.

"I don't care about the cups! I need that crossbow guy dead!" Roman turned to you and pointed at the cup. Victor looked on you with the 'we need to calm him down' look, and you sighed.

This crossbow killer, was causing Roman stresses and outbursts of anger. But what wouldn't, right?

You loved Roman despite his flaws and he loved you, even when he sometimes said terrible things, he always apologized.

"Honey, honey, look at me." you came to him, lifting his chin with your finger. Roman stopped shaking and his heavenly blue eyes looked in your (y/c) eyes.

"Breathe slowly, in and out," you whispered and Roman closed his eyes, and breathing exercise calmed him down a bit.

His breathing slowly turned into yours as you ran from the hero of Gotham City. Shit! He was still somewhere behind you.

"Breathe slowly, in and out," sounded your own voice in your head. "Right," you mumbled as you ran around some couple, who were holding their hands and then you dissapeared in another alley.

Roman opened his eyes, calm and then he stood from his chair. "Sorry for that cup, I will buy a new one to you," he mumbled and left. You looked on Victor desperately, who just silently mouthed at you -He needs you, go-

You turned to Roman who was leaving to bedroom and then back on Victor. "Go," he whispered, so Roman couldn't hear him.

You went to look at your boyfriend, who was standing next to window, looking down from it.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked as he turned around to you.

"I have no idea," he mumbled. He had still his pajamas on and you came closer, wrapping your arms around, hugging him.

"Don't worry about that crossbow guy," you whispered as he hugged you back, kissing the top of your head.

"I guess I should go take care about the club," he said heading to elevator.

"Roman, honey?" you stopped him.

"What?" he turned, with raised eyebrows.

"You have still your pajamas on," you smirked and opened the wardrobe, pulling out his favourite suit.

"Oh, right, I forgot," he laughed as you gave him his blue suit.

"I have to go, I have some bussines to do. I will be home probably sometimes around this time tomorrow," you said as he changed his clothes.

"Okay.. Should I sent few my mens with you?" he asked as you caught his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

"You don't have to," you kissed him.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he broke the kiss.

"I am sure, don't worry," you smiled, "I love you," you said and turned to go out, but Roman caught your arm.

"I love you too," he said and kissed you, "Be safe (y/n)," you smiled and blushed at his words.

"I'll try," you said and left the bedroom.

Behind you felt something down. He was close, and Black Mask club was few miles from this maze. Maze was the first thing that appeared in your mind when you heared Gotham City. Hidden spots all over the city, occupied or not, you had to find one of them and when we are mentioning a maze, that also meant lots of blind paths. End of the line.. Said voice in your head as you stopped running, facing the walls. You were trapped...

As you left the apartment, with two guns in your coat and one knife attached to your belt, you decided to go for this Crossbow killer alone. It was better, you hated teamwork. When you went somewhere by yourself you always informed Roman about it. Not becouse he would hold you back, but just for assuring him that you will return, or in the case that if somebody kiddnapped you, he could send you some help.

Roman had his own bussines, and you had yours. You were strict to your morals, unlike him, who acted always impulsive.

You also prefered to travel mostly by walk. Police station was your first stop. Roman had few cops there, who would hopefully tell you some useful informations.

When you entered, you found officers laying on ground with glitters on the floor. Pink and blue, those two collors were reminding you just one person. Harley Quinn, she was somewhere close. You didn't wanted to meet her right now, doubting she would tell you something what would help you.

The crossbow killer could be anywhere and cops wouldn't tell you right away anyways. So you 'got lost' in archives of criminal records of Gotham City. Of course, all of them weren't here, many of them were destroyed becouse their owners were unhappy with their existence. Few cops had their tables here, they weren't close so you sneaked to their workplace, taking a closer look. There were nametags on it, 'Howard Petterson' and 'Renee Montoya'

You started seraching the tables, hoping that you will find something that would help Roman.

In first table there was nothing, just few notes, diary and photos of dead bodies.

But then, you stopped, looking again onto the photo. There were laying mans on sofa, and you knew them. Roman knew them also. You saw the arrow sticking out of the neck of one corpse. It was familiar to you, the arrow was made in such a precise way, only one man in Gotham could do weapons that precise.

You took the photo with you, heading to the weapon shop, which was open in Gotham 24/7. You knew the owner, who was kind to everyone who came to buy something.

Shop wasn't looking too fancy, windows looked like they weren't cleaned a while and when you opened the doors, they made a terrible noice. Interior of the shop didn't changed, it was exactly like you remembered. Big guns on top of the rusty iron shelves were clean and polished.

"Hello?" old man said from behind counter.

"Hey dad.." you told him as you came closer.

"Long time no see.." he said and frowned, "What happened?" he asked.

"I need to know who did this," you said and took out, from your pocket folded, stolen photo.

Your dad fixed his glasses and looked on it.

"It looks like crossbow killer was in action again," he laughed and gave you back photo.

"Dad, I need to know who is he. That arrow is from your shop, isn't it?" you whispered as you heared opening the doors.

"Who told you, she is he?" he laughed and smiled when he saw girl, dressed in black and purple, entering the shop.

"Oh, hello, i did not expected you to be here so soon,"

he said and she smiled at him, holding the helmet in her hands.

"Hi, as usual please," she came to counter, pulling money from her pocket.

"Of course, wait here," your dad said, going somewhere in back of the shop.

"You looking for somebody?" she asked you, pointing at the photo.

"No, no.. Just checking.." you mumbled, holding your eye contact away from her, slipping the photo back into your pocket.

"Okay then," she smiled. You dad came back with a little box.

"Thanks," she told, opening the box with the little arrows, similiar to the one on the photo.

"Bye," she said and left the shop.

You were just collecting your thoughts at what really happened. She is the crossbow killer!

"Bye dad, I think i have to go.." you mumbled, running to stop the mysterious woman.

"These childrens.." Your dad told himself and shaked his head.

When you walked out of the shop, there was nobody. Not even a trace of the Crossbow lady.

It was getting late, sun started to fall slowly down like your hopes.

It was already dark, with starts above you as you went back to your boyfriend with empty hands.

Maybe it was better that you didn't followed her.

You didn't even knew what you would tell her. You didn't planed to kill her, just to blackmail her or maybe steal the crossbow from her, and now she is gone.

Somebody suddenly crushed into you, as you walked by.

"Hey, mind where you going," you turned to him as he standed there facing you suspiciously. After that you felt somebody's arms wrapping around you, throwing you in the trunk of a car. You tried to scream, but nothing, no one was around to save you.

They threw you out on ground in some old warehouse, which reminded you Roman and Victor, but this warehouse was darker.

"You took her weapons?" one of them said.

"Yes of course, I am not an idiot," said the other one.

There was just two of them, both of them looking like burgulars. They were poor, jugding by choice of clothing.

"What the fuck?" you shouted as one of them kicked you into the back.

"That's for Clary!" they both screamed as they continued with kicking you.

"Who!? Who is Clary?" you asked and they stopped.

"You are (y/n) (y/s), You are dating Roman Sionis, the man who killed my wife," one of them told you, kneeling down to you.

"Sure, look i am sorry about your wife, but that wasn't me, dude," you said.

"That doesn't matter!" he hissed at you, leaning his face closer, which was a big opportunity for you. They took the guns, but they forgot the knife.

You took it from your belt, stabbing the kidnapper into the cheek. The second one was pulling a gun at you.

"Oh, darling, you don't even know how to shoot with that," you smirked, standing up, ready to leave this damn place.

And it was true, he didn't know, but surprise came across your face when you saw big figure, dropping through the ceiling, falling down to kiddnaper.

"Shit.." you mumbled and started running away from the Dark knight himself.

And that is how you got into this situation, standing alone trapped in this corner, you turned to face him.

"You can't take me. I did nothing wrong.." you laughed as you watched him comming closer to you.

"You have nothing against me. I just defended myself there," you shouted at him.

Your shouts were muted by his punch. Then, you lost consciousness.

Then, you woke up, laying in some little cell. It looked familiar. It looked like.. Blackgate..?

"No, no, no.. Shit!" you screamed and kicked to doors.

"Hey! Go away from the doors," cop told you, and you obeyed and stepped back from the door.

"Wait, I need to ask you something," you shouted to officer. He just raised eyebrows, "What do you want?"

"Why... Why am I here? Shouldn't i be judged by court at first?" you asked, you knew you had some criminal background, but you weren't 100% evil.

"Oh, you are not here permanently. We have you, we have also your boyfriend. When he comes to save you, we will get him and then we will move you to another cell," cop laughed and left.

You caught your head, you wanted out, but you hoped that Roman is not comming for you. You didn't wanted be the reason, which is gonna get him behind bars.

Time was passing slower than usual, or not? You didn't know. Cell was small, boring, without the window, without the chance to see what is going on outside.

It was like time stopped and suddenly, you were all alone. You felt tear slowly comming from your eye. You realized that if Roman doesn't come for you, he probably didn't loved you that much as you thought. But if he came, he would be here trapped with you. You hated batman and cops for putting you in this position. Light above your head went out and you were thinking, if you already spent whole day here. No, that wasn't possible, they would give you some food and water. When the light above your head started flickering, you got up from bed.

Somebody broke in.. That was the next thought that popped into your head. Roman? You ran to doors, looking around through the small window. Others inmates started bashing on doors, shouting on the uninvited guest.

When you saw familiar Black mask, you bashed on doors.

"Hey, this is a trap, you have to go!" you screamed at him, as he tilted his head and called, "Zsasz?"

Roman whispered something to Victor, who just smirked waving you through the window.

"Don't worry princess, we got this," said Vic, kissed the window and ran away. Roman gave him an ugly glare, and put down his mask.

"I know, babe, that is why we need to go right now," He said, unlocking the doors. His mout hang open as he opened the doors.

"What?" you asked.

"I know this is not the right time for me to say that, but damn, you look so hot in that prison uniform," Roman said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him forward, away from the cells. Other prisoners didn't stopped kicking into doors and you heared few police officers.

"Sure, look who is talking, I am sure the prison uniform would fit you as well," you smirked as you both ran to the exit.

Outside, you both ran to his Rolls-royce.

"Wait.. Where is Victor?" you stopped and asked.

"He will be back, enter the car my dear, please do it now," Roman said, entering his car.

You sat next to him, watching the back doors entrance open. It was some officer, who was slowly comming closer to the car, and when he opened doors on the driver's spot, you held your breath.

"So, I guess we can go," said the police officer and turned to us. It was Victor in police uniform.

"Victor! Why did you.. Oh wait.. That's a brilliant idea," Roman and Victor smirked as you laughed.

"But how did you.. Where are guys, that were guarding this place?" you asked, while Victor started the car, leaving this horrible place.

"Look out from your window (y/n)," Roman pointed to window, at your left side, showing you the view of cops, who were fighting against Roman's army.

"That's impressive, what about Batman?" you asked and Roman's face went from being confident to being shocked.

"Batman, he is going after you? What have you done?" he asked you, holding your shoulders.

"Nothing, I.. I don't know why is he going after me," you lied and fixed his messy hair.

"Are you sure, he is not after us all?" Victor asked and increased the speed of the car nervously.

"I have no idea, but that could be the reason," you mumbled as Roman hugged you.

"Baby, it was just a day and i missed you so much," Roman moaned into your ear and you smirked.

"I missed you too," you said as he wrapped his gloved hand around your neck, kissing you slowly.

On the way home, nothing bad happened, no Batman, no cops, no kidnappers or crossbow killers. Sun was slowly rising.

"Beep, beep," Victor said as he parked next to Black mask club. "Hey, love birds, wake up!" he shouted. You and Roman, were peacefully sleeping, Roman sitting and you, laying your head on his lap.

As Vic shouted, you both woke up.

Club was closed, and you were glad. This night was so stressful and you both went up to bedroom to get some sleep. After bath and dressing up to pajamas, you both laid on bed, hugging eachother.

"I love you," you smiled and gave him kiss.

"I love you too," he kissed you back and you both felt asleep.

#Roman sionis #roman sionis x oc #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #the black mask bop #the black mask #Victor Zsasz #victor zsasz #Birds of prey #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #Roman sionis x you #roman sionis x you

[adamdriverwrites]

Carpe Noctem || Part 2

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: swearing, mention of death, mention of drugs and addiction.

Word count: 4580

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 2! Lemme know what you guys think! I’m also thinking about making a character page with everyone on it and maybe some pictures of what i kind of expected the house and car to look like and stuff?

Taglist: @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz, @musicalcoffeebean, @hazydespair, @driverficarchive. Let me know if you want to be added!

Masterlist here

Most nights lately, sleep had been restless if it was to be had at all. The last week was spent thinking mostly about Mallory, but regardless you found yourself waking up from a full nights rest. The last thing you had expected being back home. The California king bed was massive, with soft feather down comforters and pillows creating the fantasy you were sleeping on a cloud. The split second before your conscious thought's took the wheel, you woke up feeling almost… content. A visceral and unfamiliar feeling, and then you remembered the chain of events that had led up until this point, and reality crashed to the forefront of your mind.

A heavy sigh escaping your lips, you pulled yourself together and exit the bed. Getting ready for Mallory's funeral was easier than you thought. Most of your clothes were black, and you had only brought one dress with you appropriate enough for a funeral. You didn’t feel like wearing it, you only brought it along with you because it was instinct when Mallory was around. Forcing you into dresses and heels. The concept of wearing one hurt too much today. So you decided to wear something a little more casual. Dark high-waisted jeans, a black silk shirt and you topped it off with your leather jacket. After applying some simple makeup, you mustered the courage to leave your room.

Last night was spent outlining some questions, accumulating thought's and reasoning pertaining to Mallory’s untimely demise. You weren't sure if you were still in shock, denial, or on the track to slowly coming to terms with her death. Either way, you knew only one thing would make you feel better.

So you left your bedroom and headed towards your Father’s office.  Nearing midday already, there was far less voices reverberating down the hallway as you approached the recreation room. This you were happy about, unable to deal with unfamiliar eyes casting you over today.

You entered the silent room, though still smokey, you walked further in before realizing you were not alone.

“Well, well, well…” a voice made you still in your tracks. Hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up. Not out of fear, but nervousness. That was a voice you hadn't heard in a while. “What do we have here?”

Your head turned slowly, seeing two familiar faces. Ares and Roman, two of your older brothers. They were sat in a pair of black leather chairs, smoking in a half dark room in what appeared complete silence. Your nerves simmered, realizing that Lyon was nowhere to be seen. It would appear you were safe for now.

A smile covered your lips and you shifted around the pool table to stand in front of them. Ares was already standing, walking forwards to wrap you up in a hug, squeezing you tightly. Your eyes glanced to Roman standing behind him, regarding you with a smile before pushing your brother away and giving you a hug himself. Your nerves lessened at their apparent happiness to see you. Though, it had always been Lyon with which you had the problem.

“Hey, sis,” Roman pulled away to regard you. Both his and Ares’ eyes looking deep into your face, a minuscule sadness and wanting behind their eyes. If you had a dollar for every time someone had done that you would have been able to pay for your own College education.

“Shit. I mean, I know you always looked like Mom but damn-” Ares sighed, and then continued on, “whatever, its just- its good to have you back.”

“I just wish it was under better circumstances.” Roman popped in, and pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Seeing one in the hand of your brothers, there was little resistance in accepting his silent offer. Eager to share your nicotine habit with someone.

“How’s school going?” Ares asked.

“Its going well. One more year and I’ll have my master’s.” You were studying psychology, a subject you were eager to learn after living with such a fucked up family. It was the only thing that tethered your sanity to this reality.

“How’s the kids? And how’s Bella?” You asked Ares. You had seen them once or twice, when they were babies, still latched on to Bella, his wife. Mallory had shown you a photo whenever she could get the chance. Happy and proud of her niece and nephew.

“The twins are good. They’re at school now, growing up so fast. Micah, weirdly, looks a lot like Mallory. Mellie though, she looks so much like Bella. So at least she’ll have an easy run of it.”

You bit back a smile, and inhaled the cigarette your brother had lit for you.

Ares was your oldest brother, 11 years older than you were, since your birth he had always been mature enough to have a good relationship with. Despite what happened, he didn't resent you for anything that happened with your Mother. He never blamed you or your existence for ruining the family. No, that was mostly Lyon's modus operandi.

The only thing Ares seemed to care about was being a good Dad, and trying to be a decent husband. He was intelligent and self aware enough to not make the same mistakes as your Father.

Roman was similar. Interested only in running the one legitimate business your Father had; a club on the outskirts of your family’s territory. He wasn't obsessed with the life of crime, or powers of intimidation. He was softer, than all of you. And had kept his private life to himself, just like you had a knack for doing.

Even though you hardly ever talked over the last few years, you still enjoyed their presence. You understood that they had their own lives, and growing up you had wondered why you hardly spent any time together. It wasn’t until you were an adult you realized they were just busy living their own lives. Ten years older than you were, by the time you were shipped off to boarding school at 13 they had already started their trial into adulthood. And under your Father’s pressing thumb you could understand why you would fall under the radar. You were just a kid, and by the time the three of them and Mallory had grown up and formed relationships, you were practically just born. It was easy to understand why you had spent most of your childhood alone.

Ares opened his mouth to speak once more, when it was interrupted by quiet shouting and raised voices from your Dad’s office. Knowing it had some sort of soundproofing you only had a second to contemplate the possible loudness of what was happening inside before the doors burst open. Andrew stepped out, hand on the shoulder of your other brother; Lyon. They shared a look, obviously discussing something heated, your Father’s gaze conveying word’s he didn’t speak, until they turned to glance at the rest of you.

Lyon's apathetic face turned into something of a small snarl at seeing you standing with Ares and Roman. You felt like you had gone back 10 years in time. Back to the old days when your relationship with each other held nothing but contempt. Once again, treating you like you weren't allowed to be part of the family. You hadn't dealt with this shit since you were 16, and were moderately hoping he was over it by now. Though the look on his face suggested otherwise.

“Well, look who’s come crawling back.” He could barely get the words out of his mouth before your Father’s hand on his shoulder tightened. A small gesture that quietened him immediately.

“Lyon." You spoke the only welcome you were ready to give. Spitting the word like it was poison.

You walked forward, eager to have a conversation with your Dad. The sole reason you had come down here in the first place. Lyon kept his eyes on yours, and they tightened at the corner as you approached, hate not hidden behind his eyes but seemingly on full display as you walked forward.

Your Father turned and disappeared deeper into his office, while Lyon stayed in the entrance, not moving from his position.

“Lyon,” Ares voice was chastising him. “Chill the fuck out, Jesus Christ.”

He didn't move, didn't flinch, only kept his eyes on you. You decided to give him the opposite of what he so obviously sought. Keeping your face devoid of any emotion. Once upon a time his hate for you had affected you greatly, but now? Well, now, all you seemed to give a shit about was Mallory. You stopped at the entrance, standing next to him as you inhaled your cigarette, keeping your eyes locked with his. A show of faith that you weren't scared or affected by his actions or words. A try at letting him know that his opinion of you meant nothing.

You stepped forward, further into the office and turned to close the doors for a semblance of privacy, shutting them on his ass and sending him forward a few steps. You could hear a muffled cuss word or two from the other side. You stared at the wood with a tiny smirk.

A loud sigh escaped your Father’s lips and he looked like he had gotten no sleep. He collapsed on the chair behind his desk, and pointed at something in the corner of the room.

“Get Finn to watch him tonight, I have a feeling that he's going to do something stupid.”

You were about to ask why the fuck should you care? And ‘of course he would’, he was known for doing stupid things in the heat of the moment. Like that time when you were 8 and he was 13 and he had cut your hair with a pair of scissors because you had kicked him in the nuts.

But then you realized your Dad wasn't talking to you. He was talking to Kylo.

“Yes, sir.” He nodded from the corner of the room. Nestled between two large bookshelves he sat relaxed in a leather seat, hands on the sides, ankle over his knee. The perfect vision of relaxed calamity in a dark corner. Simply watching and assessing everything.

“You almost ready to go?” Your Dad’s voice pulled your attention. His chin resting in his hands and he looked over at you, blue eyes holding sadness. He was burying his daughter today after all.

“Yeah.” You continued forward, trying to forget the man who seemed a permanent fixture in your Father‘s office. What? Was he your Dad’s PA or something? “I just wanted to talk to you about some stuff.”

“About what?”

“Well, I was wondering if you had the case file for Mallory. I was hoping I could take a look at it.”

His head raised at those words, a slight look of confusion on his face and you quelled it by filling the silence with an explanation. “I just have so many questions and I want them answered, and... I know it's painful for you to talk about it.”

You weren't completely sure he had it. It was official police documentation after all, but he was a man that appreciated the value of knowledge, and that those who wield it properly can transform it into power. Last you knew, he had a great deal of cops on his payroll, what was one case file regarding his daughter’s death?

He turned to open a drawer, pulling a manila folder from it. It was relatively thin, though the edges of the folder were well worn suggesting he had spent the last couple of days going through it intently.

"There's some things to still be added. Poe's coming around tomorrow to drop off the updated documents."

Your brows raised and your eyes darted back to your Father. "Poe's still around?" You wondered how he was fairing through all this. Once upon a time you remembered he was quite fond of your sister. One of the many that had a crush on her. You resisted the urge to curl your lips in a smile. Your eyes fell back down, and quickly read through the notes. Skimming the words quickly, you thumbed through the pages realizing you would need far more time to comb through all the information. There were a lot of big words, and you hadn’t even had coffee yet. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a quick picture of every page so you could read it later when you had more time.

"She was found in the apartment, coroner says fentanyl overdose, with traces of cocaine in her system. The official ruling they're leaning towards is accidental but...." A longing appeared behind his eyes. "there's another set of DNA at the apartment. They don't know who it belongs to."

"Not to mention she was clean. She had been for months."

Your Father shook his head slightly. "Weeks, maybe. You haven't been here." The words were not said with malice, only sincere truth. Never the less, they made you angry. "We just don’t know."

"I talked to Mallory. A lot."

"More than her Father?"

Your anger spread. With the beat of your heart speeding faster and faster, you felt the adrenaline flow to the tips of your fingers and toes. Though you maintained a perfectly still presence, you wondered how that sentence could anger you so much. If it was to do with the fact that he thought he knew her better than you? Or was it that he made it sound like he talked to her so often, while only talking to you a handful of times a year? 

What was wrong with you so badly that he didn't think of you as worthy?

And then you remembered your Mother. How could you forget? Your father never fucking did.

Jealousy and rage pushed aside to make room for cooler heads, your logic reigned King. This was not the time, or place, for an existential crisis. Not in front of your Father, or the dark gaze you could feel piercing your back, judging every movement and word that spilled from your lips.

"Did you know she had a boyfriend?"

His face stilled. Realization dawning on his face before it was replaced with another emotion. He was about to ask a question before you interrupted. It was petty, and you had swore a promise to Mallory to never tell anything to your Dad. But she was dead, and you wanted to prove a point.

"Did you know she dropped out of school a whole year before she told you she did? Or what about how she crashed the Audi when she was drunk and got a DUI?"

You could see his anger boiling up, not knowing if it was directed at you or her. This was not going the way you thought it would. Not on your second day here anyway.

"I loved her too." You tried to dampen the caustic anger that you and your Father shared. "And all I'm saying is... she was clean." If there was one thing you were sure of it was that. "I just want to help find out what was going on."

You couldn’t tell him why exactly, because that was a promise you were willing to keep. But Mallory had a close call that almost ended her life, scaring her so badly she hadn’t even had the temptation to touch the stuff again. She had been clean for months, this you were sure of.

Your Father stood up, "Whatever happened, I'm working on it." He walked around his desk, coming to grab the folder from your hands. Not with haste or anger, he simply appeared to be done on the subject. "I don't want you involved, your safety is more important."

The folder was thrown on his desk behind him, and he turned back around to face you, straightening the tie on his black suit. "I'm leaving in about half an hour, you want to come in the car with us?"

The change of subject should have been a shock. Though you were reminded that this was your Father’s way of abstaining from anger with his daughter’s when his son's usually got screamed at, or slapped. He was trying not to lose his calm manner, and even offering some form of an olive branch in the form of a ride.

You swallowed. "I kind of feel like driving. Is my car still in the garage?" Another excuse, but you didn't want to ride in the close confined quarters with him as your company.  

"I have the mechanic look at it every couple of months, he assured me it was in pristine condition."

You would have thought that was sweet, doing something nice for you. Though you guessed his ulterior motives lay with the fact that it was your Mother's car before it was yours. Unable or unwilling to sell one of the last things he had of hers, he passed it down to you instead. No one else had wanted it. Not when your Dad was willing to hand out Lamborghini’s and Aston Martin’s as well.

"Thank you." Void of sincerity, though no one would have known it, you stood up and moved towards the doors of the office. One last look in Kylo's direction confirmed his powerful gaze was still trained on you. You quickly looked away, eager to get away from the whole confrontation.

---

The Snoke family mausoleum was constructed from dark marble. The very same that littered the inside of the manor. It stood tall and large nestled amongst the others in Saint Catherine cemetery, proud in its construction and flashy exorbitance.

You guessed there was a reason; if not for the fact your Father did everything with an expensive flourish, then because it was an extremely important plot of land for him personally.

Elizabeth Snoke was your Father’s everything. You had never experienced their relationship first hand, though people had said many things about how he was before her death. She was a vision, renowned for her beauty and grace and kindness - which always confused you greatly. You were often compared to her and those were traits you definitely didn’t fucking possess. She softened the anger and ruthless nature of Andrew Snoke, so much so he decided to have children and raise a family with her while still running the family business.

You gathered it was an natural reaction - your Father building a mausoleum to house his late and dearly beloved, room enough for himself and eventually his children to slumber when they passed. You figured Lyon would have been the one to die first, running his mouth to the wrong person the reason for his premature demise. Maybe even your Dad; you didn’t think it would be Mallory.

The sun shined bright overhead, cloudless blue sky providing little shelter from the warmth of the day. Large, black sunglasses on your face, you listened to the Priest prattle on, reciting a verse from the bible about the dead finding peace in heaven. You stood beside your Father, your three brothers flanking either side. All clad in black, the five of you stood in solemn silence, contemplating on the memory of Mallory.

When you showed up in your car, you had expected to see some of her friends she talked about, anyone other than your family. Finn, or Poe paying their respects, maybe Phasma, even if out of respect for your Father. However, your Dad had assured you it was a private matter, just family, he had said.

Fuck, Mallory would have hated this.

But funerals weren’t for the dead, they were for the people they left behind. If this was his way of grieving, then you would allow him the tiny modicum of space and privacy he needed to do so.

You were ready to put your energy elsewhere, however.

The Priest finished his sermon and offered anyone else to speak any words if they wished. Silence stretched, your family stoically standing still. Everyone's eyes cast down at the shiny black lacquered casket housing your sisters body. You were thankful it remained closed.

You didn't know what anyone would have said. You had no expectations for a speech from your Dad. You understood that the men in your family found strength in silence in times of sadness.

If you were a Snoke, you simply just didn’t talk about it.

The Priest waited, sending a look towards your Father, who simply shook his head and cast his eyes down at the casket. He came over, said his condolences to you and your family, before stepping away, giving you a some privacy.

Your concentration drifted, to spy at the army of slick black vehicles your family had come in, Snoke lackeys towing along. They remained scattered around the perimeter at a distance. Making sure to give your family your privacy and provide a protective barrier. Though from this distance you didn't recognize or know the name of any of them, a part from one.  

Kylo leaned against your Dad's Rolls Royce Phantom, cigarette between his fingers, eyes fixed on what was happening. Completely focused on the service and your family.

Hair tousled slightly from the wind, crisp black suit covering his tall, broad figure. It was too far to tell but you felt like he was staring at you. Noticing his blatant presence suddenly made you cautious of your movements.You didn’t like his piercing gaze.

You weren't completely sure what he did around here. He didn't interact with other people that worked for your Dad, not that you had seen, and he was obviously trusted enough to be privy to most private family matters that happened in your his office. He had served to quickly make you feel vulnerable and self conscious; maybe that was Kylo’s purpose?

Though his broad muscles stretched under the perfectly tailored suit begged to differ. He was large enough to cause some damage it seemed, and the scar that ran down the side of his face suggested he had either seen and or done some violent shit.

Regardless, your interest was piqued.

Pathetic service over, the workers that waited were ushered forward, moving Mallory's casket into the crypt. Preparing to place her within her allotment  before beginning the process to seal the door.

"Dinner tonight?" Your Father’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I said," he stood next to you, hand resting on Roman's shoulder, and he pulled his children into a little circle. "How about dinner tonight? Family back together again... and we can say goodbye to Mallory with a drink."

You said nothing - sitting down at a dinner table with them seemed like a fucking nightmare. Roman nodded his head, Ares agreeing, Lyon looked like he was about to say something until he saw the look on your Dad's face.

Morose, fighting back whatever turmoil of emotion with a clipped smile. Brave face a complete facade. Lyon eventually agreed. Everyone turned to look at you, and you bit back a sigh.

"Sure."

"Great." He pulled away from his children. "I'll see you back home. I’ll get the good Scotch out."

Lyon pulled off with your Dad, leaving the 3 of you alone. Roman sighed, looking once more at the workers sealing off Mallory's casket in the crypt, then turned to you and Ares. "I'm heading back home. See you there?"

You two nodded, and then turned to one another. Ares smiled and put a hand on your back. Your Father was making his way back, Lyon and Roman following behind. Your eyes scanned the perimeter your Andrew’s men had made, slowly walking back to the fleet of vehicles, following your Father like dogs.

"Fuck this." Ares sighed, "I gotta get out of here." You nodded, and turned to walk back with him, back to where everyone was starting to gather around the cars.

"Are you okay?" you asked him. You figured you knew the response but he always did seem the most emotionally available of the family. Even then, it was a rare sight.

"I'll be okay. How about you?"

"I miss her a lot, especially being back home..." you looked forward at the criminal mess that was your family and your family's business. "But she's dead, and I gotta get used to it."

He bitterly laughed in agreement, "In other news, the car's looking good. I forgot that thing was even in the garage."

You followed his gaze to your car, the very last in the line. Your pristinely clean 1974 Datsun 240z, a shiny, polished beast on dark wheels. You had to admit, your Mother had taste, and with a few adjustments - cosmetic and mechanical -  made after your sixteenth birthday it really had become a magnificent sight.

"Thanks. It was tucked in a corner, cover over it and all. But you know what Dad's like with her shit." The few items left to prove her existence; a car, an oil painted portrait hanging in the library, and a few others, were immaculately kept and preserved.

"I sure do." Ares snickered a little. "You gonna come have a drink at home? Dad'll be pulling out the Macallan." He tried to sway you with extremely good whiskey.

"I will soon, I just got a few errands to run first. Then I’ll be home."

"Errands?" he questioned, his brow furrowing. "The fuck kind of errands you got to do now?"

"I have to go the pharmacy and get a few things, and then buy some new clothes since everything I have is back home. I thought it was going to be in and out sort of trip."

"Alright," he accepted the answer, "See you back home then."

The two of you separated, going to your cars. Your jumped in the drivers seat, rolling down the tinted windows to let some of the stagnant heat out. As you pulled a cigarette from your middle console, your eyes found themselves wandering back to your family. Slowly piling in their respective vehicles, your Father's men following suit. About to head back to the manor to get fucked up for the memory of Mallory.

You were glad you parked at the very end, watching their cars pull off, one by one, all towing in the line and heading for the northern exit of the large cemetery, towards home.  

You had lied.

You didn't need to go to the pharmacy, and you had brought enough clothes to last you a week, you just didn't want him privy to your whereabouts. You weren’t sure what he would do with the information.

You remembered your sister's voice, soft and kind, telling you stories of her friends over the video calls you would share on a regular basis. She had talked about Lacy often; a dancer at a club owned by your Dad. They had met while in College and had been close ever since. You had met her once or twice before you moved away, but weren't close with her like Mallory was.

You figured if anyone was going to know anything about Mallory before she passed - she would be a good place to start.

You turned the ignition, engine roaring to life with a deep rumble. Lighting the cigarette that now dangled from your lips, you shifted into first gear and pulled from the curb. Making your way off to the Supremacy.

#kylo ren #adam driver #adam driver x reader #adam driver x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #kylo x reader #carpe noctem #kylo ren imagine

[sheeple]

Real thing | 7: The G in ‘gala’ is for everything goes wrong

GIFS NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): mafia!au / hacker!au Group(s): NCT Pairing(s): Qian Kun x fem!reader / Jung Jaehyun x fem!reader Summary: (Y/n), a college student who joined WayV ─ an international crime organization ─ for some extra cash as one of their hackers. But what happens when she gets mixed up in a lot more heavy stuff than only sitting behind a computer and disabling security cameras? Warning(s): Just mafia stuff / illegal things [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist]

I walk down the stairs towards the entrance hallway where I see Qian ─ and to my surprise ─ Lucas standing next to him, conversing in a soft murmur. 

Lucas is the first to notice me and whistles, his eyes shamelessly going up and down my figure. I roll my eyes and fold my arms in front of my chest. I cock my head to the side and let my eyes glide over his appearance. 

Lucas is wearing a dark grey suit with small dots and crosses embroidered all over the jacket and pants, and a matching polo in the same colour as the suit underneath it. His hair is black and swept back. 

Qian turns around too'. He’s wearing a blue-red striped suit, a white dress shirt underneath it, and a dark red tie, matching the colour of my dress. The handkerchief that peeks out from his breast pocket is black with small, white flowers. 

Now I know what they mean with a man’s impact is different when he’s in a well-tailored suit. 

“I never knew you could look anything more than trash”, remarks Lucas with a sly grin on his face and I punch him. He yelps and strangers away, holding his arm with a hurt expression. 

“You look... beautiful.” Qian’s voice is soft as he looks at me in almost something that looks admiration. 

“Oh, thank you, sir. You don’t look so bad yourself. The colour really suits you.” I look shyly down and put my hands in my pockets. 

Qian’s eyebrows raise as he notices the pockets. “Are those pockets? That’s pretty nice.” He mirrors my action and puts his hands in the pockets of his pants. 

Lucas coughs at our awkwardness. “Don’t you need to give her something?” 

Qian looks towards Lucas and nods, walking towards a side table and grabbing a clutch from it. It’s black with sparkles. 

He opens the clutch and pulls out a small semi-automatic handgun. “I entrust this to you. It’s for emergencies. When there is absolutely no way out and you have to protect yourself. Do you know how to use it?”

I nod slightly and take the semi-automatic in my hand, feeling the weight of it in my hand. “My dad used to have a shooting range so I’ve shot my fair share of weapons. Is it loaded?” 

Qian nods, taking in a sharp breath as I pull back the top to hear it click and aim at the window before putting it away in my bag. 

“Great, we’re ready to go”, says Lucas as Qian keeps staring at me with an unreadable look in his eyes. 

I sit next to Qian on the way towards the venue, Lucas sitting next to the driver. I nervously play with one of the rings on my fingers as the radio softly plays in the background. 

“Listen, I have to discuss a couple of things with you, (Y/n).”

I look up with a gasp as I didn’t expect Qian to say my name. “Yes, sir.”

“Firstly, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’. Just Kun or even honey is enough since you are playing my girlfriend. Secondly─”

My eyes grow wide as saucers. “Yo- your girlfriend? Sir-- I mean...” I blink confusedly. What do I need to call him now? 

“...Kun”, he says slowly. 

“Yes, Ku- Kun. You never said anything about me playing your girlfriend?! Only─”

“My date, I know,” Kun nods and straights the cuffs of his jacket, “but it is a far better alibi to be my girlfriend. Mostly for your safety.” A deep sigh leaves his lips. 

“The people that attend this gala won't be your teacher or everyday businessmen. They are powerful assets in the underworld, crime bosses and cartel runners. If they know you are... mine... they wouldn’t dare to touch you.”

I clench my jaw. “And here I was thinking that WayV was just a small crime organisation.” The words leave my lips in a mumble but Kun still catches them.

“I keep it that way on purpose. When one of you get caught or arrested, you aren’t a threat to the whole organisation. That’s my privacy policy.”

Lucas throws me a look over his shoulder. “Only seven in total know the base of WayV, also Yangyang, Kun, and I.”

Before I can say something, the driver cuts in, “Sirs, ma’am. We’re here.” 

Lucas gets out of the car and opens Kun’s door first before Kun walks around and opens my door, leaning a hand so I can climb out. 

“Thank you, Huang. You are free for the evening, just give the keys to valet once you parked the car.” Kun closes the door after saying that and the car sets off.

I turn around and look at the big and beautiful mansion made of white marble and gold. It’s absolutely magnificent to look at. 

I grab Kuns arm and wrap my hands around his biceps, taking deep breaths before walking in. 

Once inside, Kun is greeted by the people we come across with a deep bow or a shake of his hand. We do another round of greetings before settling on one group of socialites with champagne in our hands. 

I put on the best smile I can and opt to zone out all the business talk until I notice that all the eyes are on me. 

“Oh... I’m sorry?”, I smile politely and the group laughs. 

“We were talking about you, baby.” Kun smiles down at me and my breathing stops momentarily. He has to smile more often, it really suits him. 

“Yeah, we didn’t catch who she is, Mr Qian”, says a guy in begin twenty with jet black hair and high cheekbones.

“This is (Y/n), my lovely girlfriend.” Kun looks down with a lovesick grin and I smile back, playing my part the best I can as I notice that Kun’s going all in. 

“It’s nice to meet you all. I was actually quite nervous to come with him as this is the first time he asked me to join him to any business parties.” I raise my glass to my lips and take a small sip. 

“Oh? How did the two of you meet?”, asks a tall woman with cat-like eyes. 

I look at Kun, expecting him to answer that but he shakes his head. “No baby, you tell. You can do it better than me.” 

Motherfucker. 

“Well,” I begin, pulling out everything I learned during my creative writing course in high school. “Kun came to my college and gave a talk about economics and how you plan your company’s strategy. It was actually quite hard because he sometimes uses big words.”

A laugh ripples through the group and I notice how other people also seem to listen in. 

“So I went to him after he ended his presentation and asked for some extra explanation. We ended sitting together for almost an hour, talking about everything and nothing. We ended up hitting it off pretty good.” 

I talk animately with my hands, making sure I don’t spill my champagne and look at Kun with a soft smile, not missing the surprise in his eyes.

“And then? Did you guys go on a date after that?”, asks the same tall woman and I shake my head. 

“No, we didn’t see each other for a month after that. Until I saw him again in a cafe off-campus. And the rest is history.” I end with a sigh and the woman coos. 

“Look at you, Qian. Finally getting your life together after all these years.” An evil smirk forms on her face and Kun glares at her. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” He pulls me closer by my waist and I let out a gasp. “Now, if you will excuse us, I want to show (Y/n) the buffet table.” 

He whisks me away from the group and I look over my shoulder, the group immediately whispering to each other. 

“I actually didn’t expect you to make such a believable story on the spot. It kinda surprised me, to be honest.” 

I glance over the table with expensive-looking food and shrug. “I’m just doing my part.” I glance over my shoulder and see the group looking at us. I quickly stand on my toes and bring my lips towards Kun’s ear. 

“They’re looking at us, so I’m improvising”, I whisper as he looks at me weirdly. 

“Chill, you two love birds”, groans Lucas as he walks towards us, a plate full with food in his hands, “you don’t want to whole room to see you kiss.”

Kun makes a snarky comment back and they start to bicker back and forth. I turn my head around and scan the room. 

No familiar faces, only men in expensive suits and snobby women, showing off the diamonds on their neck and wrists. 

Until I suddenly see a familiar face staring at me from across the room and I stop breathing. 

Jung Jaehyun. He’s wearing a brown three-piece suit with a white blouse underneath it, the collar pulled high. His eyes focused on me with an unreadable expression. 

I look away I shock and turn my back towards him. “He’s here”, I hiss, making the men look at me. “Jung Jaehyun’s here and he has spotted me. This is not good.”

Kun glances casually over my shoulder and spots Jaehyun too. “Great”, he rolls his eyes annoyed. “What now?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you!” The panic in my eyes is visible as I feel his eyes burn the back of my head. 

“Here’s the plan”, says Lucas. “You’re just going to be doing what you have to do; be pretty, answer relationship questions, and stick to Kun’s side. And when Jaehyun corners you, act like you don’t know that you ‘boyfriend’s’”, Lucas uses air quotations for the boyfriend part, “real job is. Just some high up in an electronics company.”

I nod and sigh deeply. That’s the plan and I’m going to stick to it.

#wayv #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv kun #wayv lucas #kun #kun imagine #kun scenarios #qian kun #qian kun scenario #qian kun imagines #lucas #lucas scenarios #lucas imagines #lucas wong #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct #nct scenario #nct imagine #mafia #mafia!au #mafai!kun #Mafia!lucas #mafia!jaehyun #mafia!nct #mafia!wayv #real thing

[dcnatural]

I Did Something Bad

Word Count: 1854

Pairing: Reader x Joker

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: You are a bad cop and, one day, you cross paths with the Joker

There was something about him that fascinated you. Sure, maybe he was a crazy, narcissistic psychopath, but you couldn’t deny that he was easily the most interesting case you had ever investigated.

You had been working as an officer for GCPD for about a year when you first crossed paths with him. He had just fled Arkham, and like always, was looking to cause chaos. You and your partner were on patrol around the West Side, a rich and relatively peaceful part of the town, it was a calm night. That is, until a bleeding man jumped in front of the car, laughing like a maniac. It didn’t take more than a look for you know he was under the effect of the Laughing Gas. And that meant that the Joker was around here. While your partner called the precinct, asking for backup (as you would later found out to be procedure when dealing the Clown Prince of Crime), you followed the bloody trail that marked the path the man had made, hoping it would lead you to the criminal.

And it did. You caught up with him just in time to see his messy green hair entering a nightclub and went in after him. The party was noisy, and room was packed and when you thought you had lost him and was ready to give up, you spotted his messy green hair leaning on the bar counter and staring straight at you. But your blood didn’t freeze like you thought it would do, it boiled. The excitement of being face to face with the most notorious madman in the U.S.A. made you lose any professional objectivity, and instead of arresting him, you sat by his side and ordered a drink. The two of you didn’t talk, just looked at each other, and when the radio buzzed, calling you back to the scene, you went back without him. 

Fifty people died in that club half an hour after you left, but, as you laid in bed, watching the news reporter announce the body count, you didn’t feel a bit guilty. No, you were intrigued. He could have killed you, but he preferred taking the risk of you reporting his location and ruining his plans. Why? That single question burned into your mind, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it, until you saw him again, two weeks later. 

* * *

You had just busted a drug dealer selling meth, and was pressing the young boy into giving you the name of his boss. Sure, you were applying more force than necessary, but this was Gotham, talking would lead you nowhere in this city. As you slapped the boy on the face, you felt yourself being observed. You looked around, but you were in a cul-de-sac, empty but for you and the boy, the buildings had no windows. There was nowhere to watch you from. The boy begged you to let him go, claiming he didn’t know any names, only sold the drug, but you were on edge, and annoyed he wouldn’t give you what you needed, you slammed his body into the wall. You kicked him in the stomach and asked if he still didn’t remember. He didn’t. Finally you left, going back towards your police car. You were on your own that night, as your partner had been shot by Two-Face and was resting at home. 

There was something stuck in the windscreen wiper, and you picked it up. A just taken Polaroid picture showing you and the kid. You turned to the alley, where he still laid on the floor, and then scanned again your surroundings. 

“Is anyone there?”, you shouted. You pull your gun out of the holster, preparing to shoot at any threat. You are answered just by a guffaw. Truly, it was all the answer you needed. You followed the sound until you found the man standing in the doorway of an abandoned building, half hidden in the shadows.

“Liked my gift, officer?”, he asked, prolonging each syllable.

“Put your hands in the air”, you said, aiming the gun at his head. He didn’t even flinch.

“Why, I was hoping we could talk.” Even in the dark, you could see he was smiling. It was different than his signature smile, it wasn’t predatory. You would dare to say he was as intrigued by you as you were by him.

You lowered your gun, but didn’t return it to the holster. “Officer L/N”, you told him. 

“Joker”, he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. He uncrossed his arms and you raised the gun again. But he hadn’t taken anything, he was just holding out his gloved hand for you. “My, my, my, just trying to be polite.”

You buffed and shook his hand, half expecting to receive a shock. He was known for pulling pranks. “Is there any more photos?”, you asked, letting go of him and stepping back.

“Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t be approving of your methods , would he?”

“They bring results”, you state. You didn’t care what Gordon would say. It wasn’t like anyone would tell him, everyone in your precinct used such methods. “Do you have any more copies?”, you ask again.

He smiles mischievously. “Maybe…”, he pulled a bunch of Polaroids from the pocket on his purple suit and held them out like a fan. You can’t see what are on them, since the pictures are facing him. “Let’s play a game, you answer a question, you get a photo? How ‘bout that?”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t like bargaining with the Devil. But you could only blame yourself, if you hadn’t let him go two weeks ago, then you would be home by now. “Alright. Fine, but not here. Let’s get some drinks”, you stated. If you were going to do this, you would need to get drunk first.

Turning on his heels, he laughed. “I know just the place.” He bowed, signaling for you to go first. His actions were rather theathical, but there was nothing inoffensive about him. 

From time to time, he would say for you to turn left or right, and you could take a opportunity to steal a glance from him. You couldn’t help but notice the way he moved, like a hyena stalking its prey. And you were the gazelle. 

* * *

He chose the crappiest bar in town. At least that was the only way you could describe the place. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette, and some tough looking guys eyed you weirdly, seeing the uniform. But noticing your company, no one said anything. 

You sat by a table on the very end of the bar, facing the front door. Cop habit, always watch your exits. A skimpy dressed waitress came and took your orders. Your long neck beer arrived and you removed the cap using your silver ring. You took a sip, and bitter liquid burning it’s way down your throat.

“So”, you said, crossing your hands over the table. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, just the basics”, he said with a laughter. His beverage remained untouched. “Full name?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He nodded and you sighed, answering what he had asked.

“Camila”, he tastes the word on his tongue, making it sound almost lyrical. He slid a photograph across the table for you. You flipped it carefully, so no one else could see it. It was identical to the one he left on your car, taken less than seconds apart. You tucked it into your pocket. “How long have you been on a cop?”

“A year.”

“Fresh out of the Academy then! Tell me, am I your first super villain?”

You shake your head impatiently. “One question, one picture. Pay me before asking the next one”, you demanded.

He faked outrage. “I’m offended, I thought you trusted me. I am a man of my word”, he said placing a hand over his heart. He handed you another photo. “There. Will you answer now?”

“Yes. You were the first insane costumed criminal I crossed paths with.”

His eyes widen, fists slamming the table. “Insane?”, he scoffs. “I’m not insane. I have been told that perhaps I’m the most sane man in world. I understand how the world works: just a big ol’ joke”, he throws the next picture at you carelessly. “I thought you understood me… tsk tsk tsk. I have to say I’m disappointed, Camila.”

“Sorry”, you muttered. Not that you cared. He was insane after all, but he had something you wanted.

“Tell me, have you ever killed someone?”

The question makes you uncomfortable. Not because you are ashamed or regretful, but because telling him the truth would be risky. But, then again, who would believe the Joker? “Yes”, you say, a smile forming on the corner of your lips. 

He hands you another Polaroid. He seems very interested on that story. “How?”

“Shot them in the head twice. Threw it in the river, no body no crime”, you tell him, matter of factually. 

Another picture. “Who was it?”

“The man who mugged and killed my best friend”, as you tell him, the memories flood your mind. Your friend’s body covered in blood, you trying to close the wounds, the sirens of the ambulance that didn’t get there in time, the cake you had bought crushed under the feet of the paramedics, the ruined birthday decoration, your hands covered in blood, tears on your face. The obsession with finding the person responsible, the mugger who didn’t even remember his victim, you kicking him until his teeth feel off, you pulling the trigger twice, you pushing the body into the river, your hands covered in blood, a wicked smile on your face.

“Ohh”, he cheers, “revenge. Beautiful”, he claps his hands and gives you the next picture. “Good, only three left. Let’s make them worthy, shall we? Why didn’t you arrest me?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know”, you shrug, “it just felt the right thing to do.” You’ve emptied your beer and when the waitress passed by, you ordered another. 

“Why did you become a cop?”

You drink half of the new beer and laugh. “That’s easy. Because I wanted to do justice. But no one had told me that justice belongs in fairy tales. In real life there’s only power.”

“I knew you understood”, he held the last photo on his hand, waving it to you. “Last one”, he gave a dramatic pause before looking deep into your eyes and asking, red mouth forming the words loud and clear, this was the only question that truly mattered. “Are you single?”

You take the last gulp of your beer. “Yes”, you confess, cheeks blushing. It had been a long time since you were romantically or sexually involved with anyone. Joker hums, approving your answer. With the nine pictures on your possession, there’s nothing stopping you from leaving. And you should do just that, but he is like a magnet, pulling you closer. You get up and ask, “Walk me to my car?” 

You put the money on the table to pay for your drinks. He raises from his seat and offers you an arm, like a gentleman. You take his offer and you two walk back to where you came from. Once you reach the car, you pull all of the pictures from your pockets and reach for the lighter inside the vehicle.

“Light it up”, you say, giving him the lighter. He does just that, the edges of the Polaroids taking fire and burning. As the heat becomes too much, you drop the photos on the floor and watch as the fire consumes them, until just ember is left.

#joker #joker x reader #joker/reader #joker imagine #dc #reader

[not-close-to-straight]

Spider-Verse (SWS #69)

Previously posted as KoFi Exclusive Fic 

SUNDAYS WITH SPIDEYPOOL MASTERLIST HERE

*******************

“So this is your universe?” Miles peered up at buildings that were familiar but not quite right, at stores that had a letter or two off in their name, at colors that just felt off. “It seems dark.” “It’s not as bright as yours.” Peter kicked away a piece of trash as they passed an alley. “Not as clean cut as yours. And not as hopeful as yours, if I’m being honest. “Well, why not?” Miles ran his hand over faded graffiti on a wall, frowning over the dull colors and sloppy lines. “What’s so bad about this universe that everything is like this?” “Nothing’s bad about my universe.” Peter said irritably. “It’s just… different. Things are a little more serious. Not every situation can be defused by a witty one liner, I don't crack jokes after I get hurt. You know, people die and you don’t really get over it. Guilt never really leaves, it just sort of hurts a little less when the sun’s up. Heroes aren’t as good as you think they are, and bad guys aren’t all bad. The lines between right and wrong are a little more blurred over here and it's reflected--" 

Peter waved his hands towards the sunset that wasn't as brilliant as Miles would have expected, the music from a store that sounded just half a step flat. "It's reflected in everything you see.” 

“My dad would hate it.” Miles decided, wrinkling his nose at the smell of less than fresh food on display outside a corner shop. “He likes things black and white, right and wrong, good guys and bad guys.” “Your dad would hate it.” Peter confirmed. “But I’ve gotten used to it. Tell you the truth, I didn't even notice how off this one was until I ended up in your verse. Yours is so bright and well meaning and colorful, it makes my home seems like a less friendly version, but hey. It still needs a Spider-man, right? Even if my world considers me a menace to society, and your Peter Parker was a golden-boy." “So, if the lines are blurred in this verse--” Miles risked a glance up at Peter. “--are you really a good guy? Like my Peter Parker, he was a really good guy, right up to the end. Kept telling me it would be okay, gave me the courage to go on and do something with myself. Is that you too? Because when I met you, you seemed to hate being Spider-man and kept telling me to walk away." “Most days I’m a good guy.” Peter met his eyes steadily. “And most days I love being Spider-man, but I’ve been doing it for a long time, kid. And we might be heroes but we’re also human and we get tired."   “What--what does that mean?” “It means--” Peter snatched a few apples and handed the vendor a couple dollars. “It means that sometimes you’ll run into people who are evil down to their core, and just breathing around them makes you sick. People who are so corrupt your skin will crawl and you’ll never feel clean again. And those people? You won’t want to save them. You’ll want to save everyone from them, and then leave the baddies to die because you know the world will be a better place without them." He took a big bite of the apple and added, “And those are the times where you know if you’re a good guy or not, Miles.” “...Have you left some baddies to die?” “I haven’t saved everyone I should have.” Peter said evenly, truthfully. “But I haven’t saved everyone I wanted to, either. It evens out in some shitty way." “Oh.” Miles took a bite of his own apple, chewing as he thought. “Your Uncle Ben, right? You didn't save him? I feel like all the Peter Parker's I've met, it's always an Uncle Ben" “I feel guilty about my Uncle Ben every day.” Peter tossed the apple up in the air and caught it again. “But I also know that what happened to him could have happened in any store on any corner in this city. And you’re right-- it’s almost always an Uncle Ben.” “Mine was Uncle Aaron.” Quietly, Miles copying Peter by tossing the apple into the air. “I feel guilty about that even though I don't think I should. He was a bad guy, you know. And bad guys deserve---" Miles coughed to clear his throat. "Was your Uncle Ben a good man? Or was he like-- was he like Uncle Aaron?" “Just because someone’s involved in a life of crime doesn’t mean they aren’t a good man.” When Miles looked up at him doubtfully, Peter shrugged. “Even mobsters go to church and give to the poor and kiss their moms. Wouldn’t you say that makes them good men?” “I think the murders over shadow it.” Miles pointed out. “Don’t you?” “Your Uncle Aaron loved you.” Peter switched directions and pulled his mask out of his pocket, securing it before thwipping a web up to the top of the building and starting to scale the wall. “He encouraged you and cheered you on and when it came time for him to obey his boss and hurt you? He walked away. He was a good man.” “...oh.” Miles stared up at the building for a minute, then thwipped his own web out and attached it to Peter’s butt, climbing up after him. “I don't want to talk about this anymore. Um, are you still into Mary Jane in this universe?” “We aren’t together anymore, no.” Peter scowled when his pants started slipping, and reached back to reattach Miles web to the building. “Not for a few years now.” “So I’m doomed to be single if I’m Spider-man?” It was Miles’ turn to scowl. “That doesn’t seem fair. I’m too young to give up on love! Plus, my mom says I'm cute. I don't want to be single and gloomy forever just because I can stick to things." “Well the gloomy comes and goes, but I never said anything about being single.” Peter chuckled. “And I might have given up on love there for a little bit, but it found me whether I wanted it or not.” “Uh--- that sounds ominous?” Miles offered. “So you’re in love? What’s her name?” “His name is Wade.” Peter climbed over the railing at the rooftop and reached down to help Miles up as well. “But he goes by Deadpool. He's a mercenary." “He's a mercenary?!” Mile’s eyes about popped out of his head when Peter jogged over to a man dressed in red and black spandex, sporting enough weapons to look like a character in those video games his mom didn’t let him play. “Sorry, you said he’s a merce--” He shut up when Peter ripped his mask off and jumped into the guy’s arms, then the guy tore his mask off and-- “Oh yikes that's--” Miles did a double take when he saw Wade's face. “--That’s unfortunate. What the heck happened there?” “Miles, this is Wade.” Peter brought the guy over to meet him and Miles stuck out his hand automatically, smiling as big as he could through his own mask and thankful that no one could tell he was still staring like a damn fool. “Wade, this is Miles. He’s one of the ones I met when the universe did that awful blippy thing? Remember?” “I definitely remember dis booty disappearing into a black hole, yeah huh.” Wade patted Peter’s ass, and Peter smacked his hand away, muttered, “For the love of god, behave.” “It’s uh-- It’s nice to meet you? Mr. Deadpool, sir?” Miles squeaked, trying not to gape at the scars and bumps and--seriously what was going on with this guy’s face? “My name is Miles Morales.” “What’s with you Spidey’s and not hitting puberty until your thirty?” Wade joked, elbowing Miles in a friendly fashion. “Don’t worry, Pete’s voice didn’t drop until just last year, it was like hanging out with one of the chipmunks until everything finally descended and it got deep--” “Miles is in highschool, babe.” Peter cut in, and Wade gasped. "And by the way, my voice didn't just drop last year, what the hell?"

Wade ignored Peter and clapped both hands onto Miles' cheeks, squishing them together. “Oh my god he’s a baby! Pete you brought me a baby-bug! Can we keep him! He’s so little! Look at his little suit and his tiny feet!" “Uh--” Miles tried to intervene. “Actually--” “I shall call him squishy.” Wade said solemnly. “And he shall be mine, and he shall be MY SQUISHY!" “Ummm---” “Oh I know!” Wade snapped his fingers. “I’ll get food! Kids like food right, that will make you trust me, right?” “What?!” “Alright, that’s enough of that.” Peter disengaged Wade and pushed Miles back a short distance. “Don’t mind him, he just has zero manners and some how even less tact. He’s nice though. Means well.” “He’s your….” Miles hesitated. “Life partner?” “Boyfriend.” Peter corrected. “About a year now. We run patrol together and eat junk food together and the sweatpants I was wearing when you met me? His.” “Which is why they were grey and terrible?” “Which is why they were grey and terrible.” Peter confirmed. “But don’t tell him that, he’s weirdly proud of those ratty things.” “So he--” Miles’s eyes lit up when Wade suddenly popped back up with bags of food. “Is that Mexican food?” “Piles of it.” Peter grinned. “Let me show you how we end most nights of patrol.” **************** **************** “So your universe isn’t all black and white.” Miles said thoughtfully, chowing down on his fourth burrito of the night. “Sometimes bad guys are good, sometimes good guys aren’t really heroes and apparently mercenaries are super chill if not a little weird?” “Super chill and a lot weird.” Peter winked over at Wade. “It’s not as hopeful and bright as your universe, but it has good sides.” “Hey, speaking of good sides, have you met my other person Wanda Wilson?” Wade asked curiously. “Busty blonde gal, rocks some red spandex like nobody’s business? I don’t want to scare you and say she’s terrifying, but Squishy Spidey, she is terrifying. But in like… a sweet sort of way.” “I-- I don’t know a Wanda Wilson.” “And you don’t want to.” Peter shook his head quickly. “If that particular spandex clad disaster shows up in your universe, just take the day off and move right on with your life.” “Pick my battles.” Miles stated, and then-- “Did he just call me Squishy Spidey?” “Yeah, good luck with that.” Peter said dryly. “Once Wade gives you a nickname, you’re stuck with it. I’ve been Peter Pumpkin Pie for about eight months now.” “Well as long as no one at school gets ahold of that nickname, we’re chill.” Miles laughed and Wade high fived him behind Peter’s back. “That’s the spirit.” he said confidently. “See? All Spidey’s think I’m great, just takes a little time to get used to my particular brand of charm!” “How long does it take?” Miles whispered, and Peter whispered, “I’ll let you know when it happens for me.” Miles just grinned, and went back to eating his burrito. Not all was bad in this verse.

*********************

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#ncts fics #spideypool #spiderverse #peter b parker #miles morales #wade wilson

[heyyyharry]

Valentine’s Day Special: Roses Are Red… 

(from the ‘Couple in Flat 102’ Series)

…in which Y/N and Harry spend Valentine’s Day with different people.

In this chapter: 10k words 😱, probably plenty of unedited mistakes, fluff, mostly fluff, a bit of smut at the end, Harry being soft and extra as always, cute flashbacks from their time as flatmates 🤷‍♀️ 

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"Which color of these wedding dress would look good on me?"

Nam shifted closer to the bride-to-be so he can have a better look at the pictures in the wedding catalogue she was holding.

"Aren't these all white?"

His question and the perplexity on his face stole Y/N's and Layla's attention away from the glamour of these wedding shots. Layla immediately turned to Ben, who was sitting next to her on the couch as she scoffed. "Why did you get so offended when I said your ivory shirt was white, when the person you're dating is practically colorblind?"

"First of all." Ben raised one finger, obviously unamused by the girl's remark. "That shirt was obviously ivory, even someone like Harry could tell it was ivory."

Y/N couldn't help but snort when her fiancé's name was brought up because she knew it was true, if Harry had been there he would've been just as confused as Nam was right now.

"Second of all, Nam and I may be Treasure's godparents but we aren't dating, two gay people can be friends okay?"

Ben's clarification caused Nam to widen his eyes and release a slight laugh. "I expected at least one of those two statements was to defend me."

"Sorry, sweetie, I can't defend someone who doesn't know there are different shades of white."

Y/N and Layla exchanged looks, neither was convinced that there was nothing going on between their two gay friends. Y/N knew that they'd been spending a lot time together and not just to babysit her cat. But after having been cheated on twice, Ben was probably just being careful before letting himself fall head over heels for someone else. She couldn't really relate considering how happily in love she was, yet Y/N still somewhat understood why he didn't want to rush into another relationship, even though Nam was clearly a sweet guy.

"Questions!" Ben quickly raised a hand as if he was in a class and needed permission to speak his mind. "Shouldn't you discuss these things with Harry before consulting us? I'm surprised we're also choosing the wedding venue, what if he doesn't like it?"

"Harry and I share the work," Y/N cheerfully answered. "So he lets me decide the wedding date, venue, theme, decorations, food..."

"So the whole wedding then?"

Layla's cheeky comment made Y/N roll her eyes, still she went on, "...and he'll be in charge of the guest list, because, you know, he knows more people than I do."

"Sounds like the Harold I know." Layla gave her best friend a shrug. "He's always hated weddings, he only likes it for you."

"That's my man." Y/N sighed in contentment and a subconscious smile spread across her face. She always started grinning like a Cheshire Cat whenever she talked about him, and vice versa. Having been together for that long and now getting married, nobody knew how they could still be so in love with each other. But they were.

"I'm trying to have a few options for the wedding venue picked out today so we can have a carefree Valentine's Day tomorrow."

That year's Valentine's Day, Harry and Y/N had decided not to get each other anything and were just gonna spend time together, doing the things they enjoyed.

"Speaking of Valentine's Day..." Nam exchanged looks with Ben and Layla, not sure if he should tell Y/N this, but because she was his friend and he loved her so he ended up saying it anyway. "Shouldn't you be concerned that your future husband is hanging out with another girl the day before V-Day? Girl, I wouldn't be as chill if I were you, especially when that girl was obvious about her crush on my man."

Ben gasped as he heard what Nam had just said, his eyes broadened instantly. "Wait, he's with that Rose girl at the moment?"

"Yeah." Y/N nodded, her unusual composure was certainly not the reaction her friends were expecting to see. "They're not really hanging out. Her car broke down and the poor girl didn't have any friend so she called H to pick her up from her campus."

"You're telling me that little rich bitch couldn't call one of her fifteen personal drivers to come pick her up?" Layla scoffed, squinting her eyes in doubt at her best friend, who for some reasons still appeared pretty unbothered.

"I trust Harry completely, okay? You don't have to worry, because I don't. He's the most loyal man I know," Y/N said, as she gave her friend a reassuring smile.

The discussion about her fiancé and his twenty-year-old admirer was cut short when her phone lights up, notifying a new text message. This was probably the fifth one she'd got ever since they sat down on this couch. And judging by how annoyed she seemed when reading it, Ben just had to ask her who it was that'd been calling and texting her the entire morning.

"My new boss' being annoying again. I'm gonna call him back later."

She put the phone back down on the table without bothering to reply to those texts. After all, it was the weekend, and she'd got a wedding to plan which was way more important than anything else. Besides, she'd been working with that man for a couple weeks now, and she could bet there was nothing urgent at all, he just really enjoyed troubling her, even on her days off. But she didn't want to talk about or think about him at the moment, so she put her phone on airplane mode and assumed it would solve the problem.

Well, she was wrong.

It actually brought the problem to her front door.

The sound of door bell pulled everyone's attention away from their unfinished wedding planning business. Y/N didn't expect any guest at the moment, and it couldn't be Harry since she'd made sure to put the key in his pocket herself before he left the flat this morning, knowing how often he forgot his key.

Who else can it be?

The answer really shocked the girl when she came to open the door.

"What are you doing here?" Y/N exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed at the man standing in front of her.

Her unwelcoming attitude didn't offend her twenty-seven year old manager, in fact, it amused him. The attractive young man looked past her shoulder into her living room, smirking as he waved at Layla, Nam, and Ben, who were not even being subtle while checking him out. He didn't seem uncomfortable with all this attention he was receiving, so Y/N assumed that happened to him very often.

"You're having guests I see. Bad time?"

Y/N ignored his question and shut the door behind her so her friends couldn't listen to their conversation.

"What are you doing here, Jack?!" She asked again, more assertive this time because apparently making her life at the office a living hell wasn't enough for him.

"You didn't answer my calls."

"I was busy and it's Saturday!"

"The clients don't care if it's the weekend," Jack spoke calmly, pulling out his phone as he showed her an email he'd just received. "They've changed their mind about the entire plan for the opening event. They don't like it anymore and want to meet us tomorrow to discuss the changes."

"Us?!" She dropped her jaw, pointing to her face. "Why do I have to go? You're the VP!"

"You were the one who wrote and presented the plan. Now they want to change it so you're coming with me."

Y/N heaved a sigh, looking slightly worried.

"But tomorrow is..." Valentine's Day!!! "...Sunday."

"So? Told you the clients didn't care if it's the weekend." He gave her a shrug like it was no big deal.

Y/N swore that was the first time she'd met someone who was more obsessed with their job than she was, and also a conceited asshole who'd been breathing down her neck ever since he replaced her lovely old vice president. She had never hated anyone that much since...well, Harry.

Gosh, why am I comparing this douchebag to my future husband?! She thinks, Harry was lowkey a sweetheart; Jack, on the other hand, probably has a heart made of ice.

"Tomorrow, 10AM," said the man as he put his phone back into his jacket and pointed a finger to her. "I'll text you the address, and I don't want to hear any excuse for being late, not even a minute."

"Seriously?! Why do you hate me?!!!" She shouted after him when he walked off. But Jack didn't say anything else, he simply shot her a teasing smirk, and just like that, disappeared into the lift.

When Y/N returned inside, all six eyes were fixed on her, staring at her like she'd committed an awful crime, or wearing the most ridiculous outfit of all time.

"What?"

"Who's that?" Layla asked with a smirk.

"My boss."

"Does Harry know your new boss is hot?" The next question from Ben got Y/N to laugh as she shook her head fast.

"He only knows my new boss is an asshole, which is more correct by the way."

"But he is hot," Nam joined in. "Maybe he's got a thing for you, I mean, he showed up at your door literally five minutes after you didn't answer his text."

"He was here to talk about work." Y/N gave her friend a funny look because the idea of Jack being attracted to her, even a tiny bit, was absolutely absurd. "It's strictly business, guys. And Jack doesn't have human feelings anyway so...But don't say anything to H, he'll freak if he thinks my boss is into me."

"Is his name really Jack?" Ben seemed weirdly excited about the name and Y/N didn't know why so she just nodded her head, looking at him funny.

"Oooh, I have the perfect wedding theme for ya!" He exclaimed with a massive grin as she sat back down. "How about Titanic? Get it? Jack and Rose?"

Despite how thrilled he was to have discovered that coincidence, everyone else just stared at him with a straight face.

"That was a terrible joke, wasn't it?" He asked and Nam patted him on the back for encouragement, whereas Layla just saw that as an opportunity to tease Ben.

"Congrats, you can now be Harry's new BFF!"

Layla and Y/N fist-bumped in reaction to how offended Ben looked after being compared to Harry. Despite having a good laugh about the situation, subconsciously, Y/N hoped her friends weren't right, and that the Titanic duo wouldn't ruin her Valentine's Day.

As Y/N got back to the planning, Harry just arrived at Rose's university campus. He found the poor girl waiting for him in the parking lot, hair tied up in a high ponytail and the wet paint stains on her clothes, arms and hair had him confused.

"Is everything alright?" He asked immediately as he stepped out of his car and approached her.

With a tired smile, she told him, "my car broke down."

"No I mean, why are you covered in paint?" He eyed her from head to toes and exhaled a laugh.

Rose knew she probably looked like a silly mess right now, yet when she saw those dimples on his face, she felt like the happiest girl alive. So she enthusiastically answered, "I was building my own booth for the students' flea market tomorrow."

"Cool. What are you selling?"

"Myself."

His eyes grew wide in reaction to her unexpected answer.

"Sorry, bad joke." Rose giggled, shaking her head. "I'm gonna do a kissing booth, because, you know, it's Valentine's Day tomorrow."

"A kissing booth? Nice! Reminds me of my student years."

"You did a kissing booth as well?" She seemed pretty amused, eyes squinting at the man. "I bet you earned plenty from it."

"No, no, not me, my missus' book club did a kissing booth to raise a fund for charity, I showed up thinking she was gonna be at the booth, but she wasn't, and I was very disappointed, didn't get to kiss her that night."

The way Harry started smiling as soon as he mentioned his 'missus' absolutely shattered Rose, still she faked a smile and spoke like nothing was wrong, "wow, you two have been together for that long? That's very admirable."

"Yeah, we were flatmates then," he answered with a vibrant beam on his face. "It's a long story, I'll tell you another time."

"Oh, okay...I assume you're gonna be busy tomorrow night then?"

"Yeah, I'm spending the whole day with Y/N."

Despite already knowing his answer, Rose still got disappointed, but the frown on her face didn't get to stay for too long because afterward he told her, "maybe we'll stop by and say hello."

'We'

Rose didn't like the sound of that, and the thought of meeting his wife-to-be was already heart-wrenching. However, Rose was still curious about the girl he was in love with, she wanted to know what she was like, so while grinning from ear to ear, she clapped her hands and told him she couldn't wait to finally meet Y/N.

.

.

.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of the sockets when she received that question from her flatmate. It was February 14 tomorrow, and she expected Harry to already have his own plans; considering how popular he was, girls would be lining up to be his Valentine. What she didn't expect was him to come into her room as she was getting ready for bed, and ask her that question.

Did he want to spend time with her on Valentine's Day? Or was he just checking if she was gonna leave the flat, so he could bring someone over?

No, Y/N, you need to calm down.

"Why?" She asked him cautiously, and that look on her face put a smile on his.

"Since neither of us has a Valentine, I was uhm...thinking...maybe we could do something...together."

"Yeah, like what?" She tried to hold back the exhilaration from showing only to fail miserably. Though there was nothing official about their relationship, or even friendship, she knew he had a soft spot for her as she did for him. And it made her so happy that he wanted to hang out with her on Valentine's Day.

"Like...well...we can...uhm..." Harry stuttered for a few seconds since this was all new to him, the struggling was etched on his face. "What...what would you like to do?"

Ooooh, Y/N was glad he'd asked, because she had a lot of suggestions for their 'non-official' date. She opened her mouth, just about to start ranting about the things she'd always wanted to do and places to go, but all of a sudden, she remembered something that crashed her entire vision of a romantic night out with Harry.

"Oh no, I've got plans tomorrow night."

Her announcement turned him to stone right on the spot. He shifted a little bit on the edge of her bed and cleared his throat, trying to remain cool.

"What? With whom?" He asked, breathing out a nervous chuckle.

"With the people at my book club." Her answer made him sigh in relief, well, not literally. "We're doing a kissing booth."

"Shit, really?"

"You can come if you'd like, all the money will go to charity."

Harry didn't know what to say. Was she seriously asking him to come and see her kiss other people? But on second thought, if she was gonna kiss random people on Valentine's Day, he should show up as well.

"Okay, I'll take my friends there, charity is...important." He smiled nervously and his heart nearly burst from joy for how elated she looked as she thanked him.

The truth was, Harry'd never really spent Valentine's Day with a girl before. In fact, he hated Valentine's Day. When he was in high school, girls usually snuck flowers and cards and little gifts into his locker, hoping they'd get his attention, but he didn't care, sappy stuff like those only annoyed him. So of course, he had never done the same for any girl.

That year, however, things had certainly changed for Harry. He'd got a girl to care about and even though she didn't know it yet, she was his Valentine. He wanted to do something special. He didn't know how to do it without being too extra and obvious about his feelings for her, even though it was already pretty obvious. He wasn't sure where they stood, or what they wanted themselves to be to each other. Sure they'd been heavily flirting ever since Christmas when she gave him a kiss on the cheek, but they'd never once said how they felt about each other. He wanted to know how she felt about him, but at the same time, afraid of the answer, and of admitting how he felt about her.

So he sought for advice from Niall, not because his best friend was 'the expert of love' or anything, just because he'd got no better choice.

"Give her flowers."

"That's the lamest thing ever!" Harry snorted at his friend's suggestion. He didn't expect much from Niall, but flowers? Really? "What did you get your previous girlfriend?"

"Nothing. I forgot it was Valentine's Day, that was why we broke up."

Harry rolled his eyes and patiently asked again, "how about the one before that?"

"I got her flowers."

"Why are you even my friend?" Harry buried his face into his palm as he sat down on his best friend's bed. Niall, who was now sitting at the desk facing Harry, gave him a little shrug while tapping the pen on the pile of books in front of him, trying to come up with a better solution.

"I can ask Layla for you if you want."

"No! I don't want Layla to think I'm in love with Y/N!"

"Dude, everyone knows you're in love with Y/N!"

"Admitting it is a different thing!" Harry scoffed, hands tangled in his own hair. "Okay, so I know there are at least two people who are into Y/N."

"How the fuck do you know that?" Niall cracked up. "Have you been stalking her? Reading her diary?"

"Fuck no! She told me! She just wasn't interested, but I'm afraid if those guys do something for her on Valentine's Day, she'll fall for one of them."

"No she won't, Y/N likes you, we all know that."

"No we don't, not...for sure at least." Harry slowly shook his head, eyes fell to the floor. "I don't want to lose her..."

"Then tell her how you feel," Niall said it casually, like it was easy when Harry knew better that it was not.

"If I could just tell her then I wouldn't even need to ask you what to do."

"What's stopping you then?"

He didn't answer that question. If he started listing out the things that keep him from confessing his feelings for his flatmate, the list would be endless. He could give a thousand reasons to just give up on Y/N and try to move on, one of it being...she was Y/N, sweet, innocent Y/N who was way too good for someone like him, and him hurting her would be much worse than his own heartbreak. But he only needed one reason to keep on loving her, and it was also because...she was Y/N, sweet, innocent Y/N who was way too good for someone like him.

"Don't worry mate, you'll come up with something," Niall said, giving his friend an encouraging smile. And Harry really hoped that he would.

.

.

.

Y/N had decided to tell Harry about Jack, everything, from him showing up at their door to him giving her no choice but to be at work on Valentine's Day. At first she'd thought it would just be a meeting, lasting about one or two hours top, but turned out, they were gonna have to spend the entire day monitoring the organizing process and coming up with solutions for the new adjustments in the original plan, because apparently, the clients changed their mind like the weather.

"I feel so bad now that I can't spend Valentine's Day with you...I'm so so sorry, baby..." She sighed, holding his head close to her chest while they were cuddling on the bed with their cat, who was sleeping soundly on Y/N's stomach right now.

"It's okay love, I can't say I'm not disappointed but it's not like you have a choice." He looked up to meet her eyes and showed her a smile. "Your boss really is a dick."

"He's still my boss."

"Yeah." He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "Don't worry, babe, one day you're gonna be your own boss."

The corners of her lips curved into a smile when she heard him. "Until that day, I'm gonna have to tolerate people like Jack. Ugh... don't know why he hates me so much."

"You told me you disagreed with him once at his first meeting."

Now that she was reminded about that argument she'd had with her boss in front of the other employees, Y/N got all riled up again. "Well, maybe if he hadn't said such bullshit and forced everyone to think his way! I mean, it's the twenty-first century now and women are allowed to have their own opinions!"

Her annoyance amused Harry somehow as he chuckled and reached up to gently comb a few strands of hair out of her face.

"I'm in love with a feminist, hmm?" His remark made her giggle. She was so glad to have him around and make everything better.

Harry carefully sat up, trying not to cause too much movement that might wake up their sleeping cat. Then he laid soft kisses across her neck and smirked when she released a soft moan in response.

"You do your thing and I'll pick you up when you're done," he whispered into her ear while nibbling on it. "Then we'll have a quiet dinner, just the two of us at home, yeah? I'm gonna make dinner."

"You? Making dinner?" She raised both eyebrows, turning to the side a bit to rest her forehead against his, holding his face with one hand. Her teasing caused him to laugh and scrunch up his nose.

"Shut up, I'm still learning," he said.

"Could everyday be Valentine's Day please?" She giggled before kissing his cheek.

Obviously, Y/N didn't think much when she made that wish. It was not until now, on Valentine's morning, when she was standing in front of her client's representative and listening to this woman dissing all the ideas she'd spent many sleepless nights working on, that she realized she didn't want everyday of her life to be like today. She'd never hated her job more than this moment.

Jack wasn't there yet. It was ironic that he'd been the one who'd warned her not to show up late, not even a minute, when now it'd been over half an hour and he was still nowhere to be seen. And because he wasn't there, she had to take all the rage from their angry client.

The woman looked around the venue in distress as she paused her rambling to release a long heavy sigh.

"This place can't even fit 300 guests, and it certainly doesn't look like a fashion event if it's held here."

"300? How has the number gone up to 300?" Y/N was in shock, but the woman from the other firm turned her nose up at the poor girl.

"We've expanded the guest list, no big deal," she said, sticking out her bottom lip like the opening event of her firm is a children's playdate, and it drove Y/N up the wall.

"Adding 100 more people is a big deal!"

"You've got nearly a week to figure it out."

Those words really made Y/N's blood boil. She opened her mouth, about to tell this woman off, when a familiar voice interrupted her all at once.

"Sorry I'm late," said Jack as he calmly approached the two ladies. Y/N had never been happier to see him, well, she'd never been happy to see him until now.

"Nearly 40 minutes late," she whispered to him when he stood by her side, resulting in a smirk on his face.

"Sorry, went back to get something," he told Y/N under his breath before turning to the other woman and instantly putting on the most charming smile he could fake to ease her anger. It did work, it'd always worked.

"Mr. Coleman, lovely to see you again!"

Y/N couldn't say she wasn't offended by this tremendous attitude change from the lady right here. She supposed some people can get really blind in presence of a good-looking human being. She couldn't blame her though, Jack knew his ways around people, that charming public persona could win over even the grumpiest ones. Wait, but now that she really thought about it, she couldn't recall ever seeing Jack being mean to any other person, only her. Okay now, she was even more offended!

"I guess there's a bit of a problem here, Ms. Flores?"

"Oh, call me May." She waved her hand and giggled like a teenager. Is this woman for real? Thought Y/N, yet she stayed quiet and lets Jack do the talking. "So this venue is too small for our guest list, we've recently decided to boost the number to 300 guests."

"300?" Jack also seemed stunned. "That's 100 more!"

"See I was trying to—"

Jack immediately nudged Y/N and signaled her to let him handle this.

"You should've thought of a backup plan in case your clients wanted to change the guest list, how unprofessional!" The woman glared at Y/N, who looked at Jack, waiting for him to back her up. And surprisingly, he did.

"It's not her fault."

Those words that'd come out from his own mouth left a huge shock look on Y/N's face, her mouth was agape as she stared at him wide-eyed. "I was the one who proposed the idea of having the event here and I didn't consider the possible changes in the plan, so I apologize for all this inconvenience. It's not Ms. Y/L/N's fault as she was just presenting my proposal."

"Oh...Okay, so how are you gonna fix this?" Asked the lady, now that she was convinced it was really Jack's mistake, she seemed to be more at ease, which slightly upsetted Y/N. But she was just glad Jack'd rescued her when he could've just pin all the blame on an employee like her to save his face.

After a long negotiation, Jack managed to have their clients reduce the number of guests back down to a hundred and they didn't have to change the venue at the last minute.

"Wow, who would've known organizing an event could be this hard!" Said Y/N as she was watching people putting up the lights and getting the sound system ready, already thinking about how hard it was gonna be for her to finish planning her wedding.

Jack was standing next to her, his eyes were fixed on the girl, and not what he was supposed to be paying attention to. A big smile displayed on his lips as he questioned her, "your first time being in charge of a project?"

"Yeah, since I was new they didn't actually let me do anything on my own," she replied, turning to look at him. "But I fucked up this time so I get why they doubted my abilities."

"You didn't fuck up." He smirked, slightly amused by hearing her curse because he didn't take her as a person who would ever say a bad word. "You did a great job."

"I did?"

"Yeah." He nodded then leaned in closer to whisper to her, "that woman was pretty annoying by the way."

His comment made her laugh. It was actually the first time she'd laughed at anything he'd ever said.

"I'm sorry you had to take the blame for me though, I feel very guilty."

Jack gave her a shrug with his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. "Don't be. That's what bosses do, take responsibilities for their employees. And I did ask you to work on the plan, you did it on your own, put hard work in it, and you did well. The clients can be mean sometimes, but you're not allowed to disagree with them. Take my advice, let them think they're right and try to maneuver the plan back to how you think works best by negotiating."

"I'm just not good at..." she paused and heaved a sigh "...dealing with people."

"I know, that's what I like about you."

She immediately dropped her jaw and shot her head up to stare at him, unable to believe he'd just said those words. Jack pretended like he didn't see that dumbfounded look on her face, he tilted his head and told her to follow him.

"Come. I'll show you the PR clip and you can tell me what you think."

.

"Oh my God, why are we here?!" Layla complained, again. In fact, that was all she'd been doing since she got out of the car. "Let's just go to Ruth's party instead, where the cool people are!"

Liam didn't even hesitate to jump on board with the girl. "I agree with Layla, why are we at a flea market?"

To be honest, Harry hadn't even known there was a flea market on campus tonight until Y/N told him so. He wasn't interested in any activities by the student clubs of the university, but since Y/N was a member of a few so maybe he'd changed his mind a bit and stopped assuming that if you were in a club then you were all lame.

"Because Harold promised Y/N he would come," Niall spoke for Harry, who immediately glared at his best friend for saying that out loud for everyone to hear. However, nobody seemed to be surprised.

"I personally think this is fun!" Said Louis who threw an arm over Harry's shoulders and the other in the air. "They're selling beer over there, that's all I care about."

"And Y/N's club has a kissing booth!"

Niall, once again, received dead eyes from Harry.

"A kissing booth? Wow, where?" Trix, who had to hurry up to catch up with the group, finally spoke up. She'd been so distracted by all of those heart balloons they had just walked past until she heard the keywords that got her attention.

"Booth number 27 she told me," said Harry as he awkward scratched the back of his head.

"Is she gonna be at the booth?"

"Of course, Harold's expecting a kiss on Valentine's Day!" Niall answered Liam's question before Harry could even open his mouth, and this time Harry didn't even bother to try and stop his best friend anymore. All the beans had been spilt.

"So you're paying money to get a kiss from your crush? That's sad."

Layla only wanted to tease Harry, it was a harmless joke, but it really hurt his feelings, because she was right. Receiving a kiss from her at the booth wouldn't make him special, he was gonna be like all the other guys who got to kiss her.

Fortunately, luck was smiling at Harry on this lovers' night, because Y/N wasn't gonna be giving out kisses to random people. She was actually selling tickets, and when he saw her talking to the people waiting in line with a bright smile on her face, he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Oh man, so this means I won't get to kiss Y/N?" Louis joked and Harry slightly pushed him by the shoulder then told him to shut up.

Layla rolled her eyes as she looked at everyone, seemingly unimpressed. "Are we gonna go somewhere else now, or...?"

"No way, I'm gonna be in line, that girl in the booth is hot!" Liam said quickly then joins the other people who were waiting for their turns and Louis soon followed him for the same reason. Layla then turned to Niall, who still looked so uncertain whether he should go with them or stay.

"You can go if you want," she told him with a straight face then walked off without saying another word. And Niall took it as a cue to follow her, waving goodbye at Harry before he was gone.

Here goes nothing, Harry thought to himself then made his way towards his flatmate, who had just spotted him and now was waving her hand to get his attention.

"Hey, don't cut the line, moron!" Someone shouted at him when he went the the head of the line. Harry meant to turn around and shout back at them, but Y/N already had it all handled.

"He's only here to talk to me, you're not getting a kiss with that attitude!" She told the guy, making Harry laugh.

"You shout at people now? Who are you?" He gave her a cheeky grin, receiving one back.

"Try standing here for two hours and you'd understand why I get irritated by mostly anything!" She breathed and handed the tickets back to a girl next to her as she asked her to take her place so she could go talk to Harry a bit.

"So..." Y/N took a deep breath as they walked together away from her kissing booth. Harry was trying his best not to hold her hand right now. It was right there, brushing against his several times by accident, and it was so hard not to grab it. Oh the things she does to him. "...where are your friends?"

"Liam and Louis are waiting in line at your booth, we kind of lost Trix, and Niall followed Layla, I don't know where they are now."

"Thank you for bringing your friends here," she told him with a shy smile. "I mean, I heard about the party at Ruth's, you could be there, but you're here so..."

"Ruth throws party every weekend, it's not fun anymore," he lied to her. That wasn't why he'd decided not to go, obviously.

"Have you received any special gift from someone yet?" He asked after letting the silence take over for a couple seconds. He didn't want to know what the other guys had done for her, but at the same time, needs to know so he could step up his games.

"Well, yeah, the two guys I told you about..."

"Yeah?"

"One gave me a sloppy handwritten card with only three words 'Happy Valentine's Day', and the other gave me balloons and a box of chocolate, along with a sappy two-page love letter," she said, rolling her eyes and that was the reaction he'd been hoping to see. She wasn't interested in either of them, one barely put in effort while the other was too extra. Harry was now pretty proud of his little gift for her because he was in the safe zone.

"How about you, Harry? Probably got plenty?"

Some girls had come up to him this morning after some of his classes to ask him out tonight, but he'd turned them all down, for her. He wasn't sure he could tell her that though.

"Nope, you know how I feel about romance and shit."

"Don't have to tell me twice." She snorted, when suddenly her phone notified her of a new text.

"What is it?" He asked when he saw the look on her face.

"They want me back at the booth, that girl I asked to take my place left the spot without telling anyone, and now no one's there to sell tickets," she told him with an unpleasant grimace.

"It's okay, I'll walk you back," he said and they turned around to return to her friends. Suddenly, he remembered something and stopped halfway, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket.

"Here," he handed out some money, leaving her a bit confused. "Uhm...I want to contribute something to your charity fund, but I don't want to kiss anyone." Anyone that's not you.

"I can't accept this, silly, put it back." She scoffed, pushing his hand away, but he refused to comply.

"Just take it." He shoved the money in her hand with a smirk. "It's not like the money is for you anyway, silly."

The way he mimicked her voice made her laugh. So Y/N thanked him and watched him put his wallet away. He had his cute little dimples on and was humming a familiar tune she couldn't recall what song it was from, all she knew was that he looked so adorable, and his good intention really won her over.

"Wait."

He raised an eyebrow at her when she grabbed his arm."You're not giving me back the money now. I already put my wallet away."

"Not that!"

"Then what?"

She parted her lips with the intention of saying something else, but then she changed her mind, keeping the words to herself, and tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek, again, like she had on Christmas' Eve under the mistletoe.

Harry was absolutely shocked. When she pulled away, he gently put his hands to where her lips had been and his mouth fell opened but no words escaped. Y/N thought that look was just priceless.

"Just to be fair, you're still getting a kiss, and we're getting money." She waved the valuable piece of paper in front of his face and Harry swore he had to use all of his inner strength not to pull her in for a real kiss. A simple peck on the cheek could get all the butterflies in his stomach to come alive and go insane, so now he wondered what would happen if they had kissed. He would've probably burst into flame.

"Harry!" Her voice pulled him back to reality and he had to blink a few times to realize where he was. "Why are you standing there? Hurry up, I must get back now!"

Without waiting for a reply, she just took his hand without warning, and didn't let it go until they were finally back at the booth.

.

.

.

"Flea market! Ahhh memories!" Layla excitedly exclaimed as she threw her arms in the air and received worrying looks from Niall and Harry.

"Why are you two here?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. He only remembered telling Niall about going to stop by and say hello to Rose before going to pick Y/N up, he didn't remember asking Niall to come along, bringing Layla with him.

"The question is, why are you here?" Layla asked, pointing a finger to his chest and Niall just seemed so done he didn't even try to intervene.

"Chill, Y/N knows I'm here."

"So?"

"So, I'm only here because I promised Rose I'd stop by, and then I'm going straight to pick up my girl." Harry scoffed, thinking Layla was absolutely ridiculous. He just felt bad that Rose didn't actually have a friend and he appreciated that she considered him as one. "Don't you guys trust me? I'm not gonna cheat on Y/N."

"I trust you, not that little girl," Layla said, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing at Harry. "I'd like to meet her to see how thick her skin is. A normal person won't go this far to pursue someone who's already engaged."

Harry gave Niall a questioning look, and Niall raised two hands in the air to defend himself, saying he had nothing to do with this and was only there because he had to.

"Okay fine," Harry said at last. "If you two want me to be your thirdwheel, then stay."

"Great!" Layla cheered, grabbing Niall's arm and pulling him along as they both followed Harry to find Rose's booth.

When they arrived, they saw a long line waiting. At first Layla and Niall were very curious, but as soon as they saw what Rose looked like, they kind of understood why there were so many desperate people gathering there at her kissing booth.

"She is pretty."

"What did you just say, Niall?"

"Nothing, love."

Layla huffed then turned to Harry, who, instead of looking at Rose like the other males here, was on his phone, texting Y/N, and the crinkles between Layla's brows eased at once.

"So which one of us is gonna kiss her when it's our turn?" Niall asked, chuckling at his own joke, but he instantly regretted it when he saw the look on Layla's face.

"No one!" She groaned, switching her eyes between the two guys. "Why are we lining up anyway?"

"Because it's a polite thing to do?"

"Well, thanks Niall, if we're gonna be polite, we're gonna wait until tomorrow, look at this long ass line!" Layla said in annoyance as she grabbed both Niall's and Harry's hand then dragged them with her to the front of the line, ignoring people shouting at them not to cut in.

Once Rose saw Harry's face, she quickly ran out of the booth, making plenty of people upset, but she didn't seem to care. She told them that she was taking a break before pulling Harry in for a hug, probably would stay glued to him if Layla didn't interfere by pulling him back.

"Oh, this is..." Rose looked at her, not knowing why this girl she had never met before in her life seemed so hostile. Y/N had been to Harry's office before so Rose knew that wasn't her.

"These are my friends, Layla and Niall," Harry said, smiling at the girl, who exhaled a laugh, shaking her head and said hello to them with enthusiasm.

"Where's Y/N?" She asked, looking behind him, expecting to see the girl he was gonna marry, but just like last time at the party, Y/N didn't show up.

"She got stuck at work," replied Harry.

"But it's Sunday, how obsessed is she with her job? Jesus!"

"Honey, when you finally grow up, graduate and actually have to work, you'll understand."

"Layla!" Niall stopped his girlfriend by grabbing her by the hand and pulled her with him. "Let's go over there, okay? I'll buy you some flowers."

Layla agreed to come along, but before she left, she didn't forget to give Rose a warning death glare just to remind the girl where she actually stood.

"Do you think your friends hate me? I wasn't trying to be mean, I was only kidding," Rose said, putting both hands on her chest and shaking her head apologetically.

"Don't worry, Layla acts like that with everyone, it's alright," Harry assured her and pressed his lips into a smile. "Do you sell anything here? I'll buy one to support you."

"Only my kisses!" She answered with a huge grin then noticed how awkward he seemed so she tried to fix it. "Not that you can buy one anyway, but you don't have to support me, I've made enough money today."

Harry nodded. Rose assumed that beam on his face was for her, but it was actually him remembering the little kiss Y/N had give  him for a kissing booth on that same day a few years ago.

"What do you need this money for?" He asked her suddenly. "If you don't mind that I ask."

"Well, I want to buy new stuff for my design studio but I don't want to ask for daddy's money," she told him with a slight shrug. "People just assume I live on his money and I don't like that."

"I've never thought so, you seem very independent."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

By saying that, he'd made her day even though she didn't tell him that. Rose intertwined her hands and told him she should get back inside before those people went insane and demanded a refund.

"Have a fun night!" He said, waving at her.

"You too," she replied, and this time, the lack of her usual positive energy was quite obvious. She wished him a happy Valentine's Day, didn't sound like she meant it, but as she watched him walking away towards Layla and Niall, she knew he didn't notice anyway.

.

.

.

Harry and Y/N stumbled out of the lift into the hallway, nearly tripping on their feet as they were drowning in laughter on their way back to their shared flat.

"Good evening, kids!" Ben greeted the two young people as he locked his front door and Y/N broke into a smile, waving at her neighbor.

"Hey, Ben! Going out on a date?"

"Yeah, I'm picking Mark up from his workplace and we're going to this restaurant. You two wanna join us? Like a double date!"

Harry and Y/N dropped the beam on their faces instantly as they exchanged looks by accident before shifting their eyes away from each other real quick to avoid the awkwardness.

"I'll take that as a no then..." Ben squinted his eyes at them, sensing something weird but didn't want to say it out loud. "Happy Valentine's Day, you two."

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Harry shouted after Ben and lingered there for a little while to watch Ben go, even though Y/N had entered their flat.

The neighbor was seemingly in a hurry as he headed straight to the lift, wearing a nonchalant smile because he was so excited to see his fiancé. Harry thought, maybe one day, when things had changed, that was gonna be him.

"Harry, why are you still out there?!"

"Uh...Coming!"

Harry walked into the flat then straight off told Y/N he was gonna take a shower before dinner. She didn't suspect a thing and didn't expect anything because even though it was Valentine's Day, they were only just friends. But when she went back to her room after he'd gone to his and turned on the light, on the bed she found a small teddy bear facing the door, wearing a cute little hat and a red ribbon as a bowtie, next to it lied a little card, on which written two lines in Harry's all too familiar hand-writing.

Roses are red, violets are blue,

I suck at poems, this is the best I can do. H. :)

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

When Y/N rushed into Harry's room, all out of breath, he was grabbing his clothes from the closet and just about to head to the shower. He saw the look on her face and the bear she was holding and instantly started beaming at her.

"You like it?" He asked before she could say a word. "I didn't know what to get you, Niall suggested me to buy flowers but...flowers die so..."

Y/N thinks she was going to cry, but she was glad she didn't. She'd just received gifts today, so why did she get so emotional over a teddy bear? Maybe because it was  from Harry, who couldn't shut up about how much he hated Valentine's Day and 'romance and shit', maybe because she loved him so much, she didn't think he could ever tell. Whatever the reason, she was now over the moon.

"Why did you think you should get me anything though?" She asked, taking a couple steps towards him and she could feel how nervous he was through the look he was giving her and the way his lips were quivering.

"Well, because you're my..." He sucked in a breath when she stopped in front of him. "...best friend."

"I am?" She raised a grin.

He nodded his head and teasingly patted the top of her head like she was a little kid. "Congratulations, you can now go tell everyone."

Y/N breathed out a laugh as she brushes his hand away. She then surprised him for the second time that night by throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. It took Harry quite a moment to get grip on reality and finally held her back, hoping she couldn't feel his heart thumping like a drum.

"You're my best friend too, H. Happy Valentine's Day!" She whispered into his ears, and those simple words had given this day a lot more meaning.

So, "Happy Valentine's Day, love," Harry said back as he made sure to leave out the most important three words, which remained a secret between him and his heart only.

.

.

.

When Jack walked Y/N out of the building to his car parked out front, it was already dark outside. The many pedestrians walking past them were either couples holding hands or lonely people heading home to spend the night alone. Strangely, Y/N began to wonder whether her boss was the first type or the latter. After today, she thought everything she'd thought she'd known about him was all incorrect.

"Thanks for spending today working with me," he said at last, inhaling the cool February air as he looked around, everywhere but her. "I know it was harsh to ask you to spend Sunday at the office."

"It's fine. I'm glad it's over now." She pretended to wipe off her sweat and blew up her cheeks, the gesture put a smile on his face.

Jack nodded his head towards his car and asks her if she wanted a ride home, that was when she knew he was the latter type since he didn't seem to be in a rush to go see a special someone. She thanked him for the offer, but explained that her fiancé was already on his way to pick her up, the news came as a surprise to Jack apparently.

"You're engaged?" He almost looked like he didn't believe her. So she showed him the ring on her hand and another smile. "Wow, didn't notice the ring. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"He's not upset that I stole you from him on Valentine's Day, is he?"

"He is, very." Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and Jack cracked a beam.

"Well, shit. Am I in trouble?"

"Hope not."

Jack noticed that Y/N was cold and offered her his coat, to which she refused at first, but he insisted her on taking it anyway. He threw it over her shoulders, then told her to wait as he went get something from his car. She expected it to be some files for her to prepare at home because it was Monday tomorrow, but it turned out to be the last thing she would think of, a box of chocolate.

"This is for you."

"For me?" She looked at him like he was joking, at least hoping that he was.

"Yes. I felt guilty for ruining your day off so I got you a Valentine's gift...not that you need one from me anyway." She didn't get what he actually meant by that, yet she didn't ask. "I almost forgot it at home this morning."

"You came back to get this?" She broadened her eyes at the man. "Was this why you were late?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Well...thank you." She didn't know what else to say so she stayed quiet, and so did he.

Five minutes passed by, Y/N had no clue why he was still there when he could've just gone home because someone was coming for her anyway. As if he knew what she was thinking, Jack immediately answered the inquiry in her head, "it's not safe for you to stand here alone. I'll wait with you."

But as soon as he finished that sentence, two headlights approached them and Harry's car pulled over by the pavement. He stepped out, perplexed to see his girl standing with another man while wrapped in his coat. Y/N could read that expression so she quickly introduced the two of them to each other.

"Harry, this is Jack, my boss. Jack, my fiancé, Harry."

The two men shook hands, but oddly didn't exchange a single word, not even a 'hello'. They just stared at each other and would definitely continue to do so if Y/N didn't break the awkward silence.

"Thank you for this," she said, handing Jack back his coat. "And for the chocolate. Have a good night."

"You too, Y/N. See you tomorrow."

Jack waved his hand and watched the girl hold onto Harry's as they walked to his car, smiling at each other, being so in love like an engaged couple should be. Harry gave her a kiss on the forehead and asked how her day had been and if she was tired, to which she answered by saying she'd had an interesting day and was not tired anymore now that she saw him. Neither of them paid attention to Jack enough to wonder what was really on his mind, but he did leave very quickly, as soon as Harry opened the car door for Y/N, he was already driving away.

Harry, being Harry, kept asking Y/N about Jack on the drive back home. He wasn't being mean about it, he was just curious and a bit uneasy because, why on earth would a decent man gives an engaged woman chocolate on Valentine's Day?!

"That bloke is into you, I know it!" Harry snorted as he held the door for her to enter their building. "I'm gonna eat all of his chocolate!"

"That's a very big box, H." She laughed, shaking her head, but he didn't seem to mind.

"I don't care if I get diabetes, not gonna let you eat another man's affection."

Y/N cracked up when he tickled her side then wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her close to his chest. They walked past the front desk, cheerfully saying hello to their doorman Nam before heading straight to the lift, but Y/N's eyes were quick to spot the huge bouquet of roses in front of Nam. She stopped and came back to him immediately, pulling Harry alongside her.

"Well, well, well, I wonder who these are from?" Y/N put her forefinger to her lips, pretending to not have an idea as she turned to look at Harry. "Any guesses, love?"

"Hmm, maybe they're from another friend of ours?" He knitted his eyebrows together, playing along as he gave Nam a fake look of doubt. "I could be wrong but..."

"Oh my God, you two are the most ridiculous couple ever!" Nam tossed his head back and laughed. "Yes, they're from Ben, happy?"

"Pretty sure you said you two weren't dating."

"We aren't," the doorman told Y/N, smiling from ear to ear. "Not yet, but..."

"Aww, we're very happy for you!" Y/N clasped her hands together, beaming brightly. Harry, on the other hand, was getting pretty impatient.

"Yes we are very very happy for you," he said then hugged Y/N from behind and kissed her cheek. "But I need some alone time with my girl now so excuse us, good night."

"Eww, leave, you two are gross!" Nam sticked out his tongue as he laughed, then watched the couple hurry their way to the lift, hand in hand, releasing a sigh. He did hope that he was gonna be happy as they were now, one day.

Y/N and Harry stumbled into their flat, without bothering to switch on the light. Harry had already made dinner in the kitchen but it was the last thing on their mind right now since their mouths were attached and he kicked the front door closed while holding her up with her legs wrapped around his waist, struggling to lock the door without dropping his girl or falling over.

Harry had no idea what'd gotten him so worked up, maybe he'd got provoked by seeing Y/N's good-looking boss giving her so much attention after spending the entire day with her, maybe his trip to the flea market and Rose's kissing booth brought back a lot of loving memories of him and Y/N when they were still flatmates. He didn't know why, all he knew was that he wanted to show her how much he loved her.

They ended up riding out their first orgasm before they could even reach their bed, sprawling across the floor with her ontop of him, chest to chest, clothes lying all over the place. It was wild. But after that, it was full love-making. He weny down on her, sending her to her second climax before diving into that all too familiar spot that left him grunting every single time he entered because he could never get used to how good she felt wrapped around him. This time he went slow, wanting to feel all of her and give her all of his. He'd lost count of how many times he'd told her he loves her, just mumbling the same three words against her lips until she cummed for the third time and he followed, giving her all he'd got. As he collapsed ontop of her, head buried in her neck with her body still keeping him warm, he repeated once again those three words, and Y/N thought she'd never get tired of hearing it, ever.

"I love you a lot too, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she told him with a tired smile, wiping away the beads of sweat running down his handsome face. "No matter how much I tell you I love you, please know I always love you more than that."

"Fuck...You made me the happiest man alive, love."

They shared another kiss, and when Y/N saw how Harry's eyelids started to flutter she burst into laughter. "Ey, don't fall asleep, we're still gonna eat the dinner you cooked for me!"

"Okay but stay here a few minutes more. I missed you today," he muttered, brushing his nose against her collarbone, pulling her closer, and Y/N couldn't say no to that.

They cuddled for a little while and then got off the bed to go clean up only to end up having sex again in the shower because, Harry's reason, it's Valentine's Day.

When they returned from the bathroom, he finally remembered what he'd thought about on his way to pick her up. When he saw Jack with her it completely slipped from his mind.

"Do you remember the bear I got you on our first Valentine's?" Harry asked, pressing his lips into a soft smile as he held her by the hips while sitting on the edge of the bed and she was standing in front of him, drying his hair with a towel.

"Before we got together?" The memories turned into a beam on her face. "Yeah, I still have it in that drawer over there. Why?"

"I just thought of it today, not sure if you know this yet, probably not, but have you ever discovered something odd about that bear?"

"No." She stopped and dropped the towel down on the bed so he could pull her onto his lap and have her sit with her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her waist. "Oh no, Harry, what are you hiding from me?"

With a cheeky smile on his face, he looked at the ceiling and said, "well, if you take off the ribbon around the bear's neck, you'll find a zipper."

"Wha—No way!" She laughed, mouth opened wide as she stared at him in shock. "You sneaky bastard!"

It didn't take no time for her to remove herself from his lap and rush to their closet to search for the stuffed animal. When she'd found it, she did as he'd said. And he wasn't kidding. There was a zipper hidden under the cute little bowtie. She furrowed her eyebrows at him, and he told her to go ahead and check what's inside.

"I should've known you wouldn't have just given me an ordinary bear!"

Harry gave her a shrug for he knew it was the truth. He'd always been so extra when it came to her, he'd nearly hired a freaking band for her birthday, for crying out loud!

Y/N pulled out a piece of paper from the bear's neck. She couldn't believe it'd been there for years and she didn't know about its existence until today. So she didn't hesitate to unfold it, and read the words out loud for both her and Harry to hear.

"Roses are red, violets are blue...I like you a lot..." she paused to look at him "...if only you knew."

"I was pretty cheesy back then." He pressed his lips together. But Y/N thought that was actually one of the sweetest things he'd ever done for her. "I took the risk, put that note inside the bear, thinking to myself if you found out I would confess to having feelings for you, but you never did."

"Why didn't you say anything?" She put the bear down on the table nearby, along with the note, to return and sit on his lap, holding his face between her hands. "How on earth would I know there was a freaking note hidden inside the bear? I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"

"Maybe a part of me didn't want you to see the note, I was still scared," he replied. "But the next morning when I saw you in the kitchen, you seemed pretty normal so I knew you didn't see it, and the other part of me got disappointed."

"Dumbass," she whispered, nose brushing against his. "We would've ended up together sooner, had you just hand me the note like a normal person!"

"If you want, we can tell our kids the bear story instead of how I actually confessed my feelings while being drunk off my ass."

Y/N laughed as she heard him, but then shook her head no. "I still prefer how it actually happened. The waiting was torturing, but it was worth it."

The Harry who'd written that note on Valentine's Day a few years ago never would've seen this day coming. They were getting married soon and were happier now than ever. So Harry guessed Y/N was right after all. All the bad and good things they'd gone through, it was all worth it.

#i wanted to include them planning for the wedding but since this is already too long i'm saving it for the next chapter #flatmate!harry #boyfriend!harry #bestfriend!harry #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions