#//please let this do well i have been in time signature jazz hell the past few days

[berry-little-infiltrator]

Hi! I went to Unova once as a kid and I just couldn't get the music at Gear Station out of my head! Here's our best attempt to rearrange based on memory alone ^-^

#the ice type aipoms #brand new jam #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pokeblog rp #pokemon rp #irl pkmn #real pokemon #submas #ingo #emmet #pokemon music #carolineposting #//please let this do well i have been in time signature jazz hell the past few days

[thewritingginger]

Valentine’s Day In

This is a bit late to say the least, I was hoping to post this on Valentine’s Day but school work had my ass occupied so for the past week I was going back and forth between school work and writing 😒 

Also I know I have a bajillion wips todo, a few of which are Valentine’s Day prompts 

bUt

I got a super cute fluffy idea for Valentine’s Day and the motivation came to me so I hope we can let it slide for now. Right?  😅

Anyways I hope you enjoy ~ Also I wrote this while listening to THIS, so if you want you can listen to it while you read as well :3

Fandom: Obey Me! Pairing: Satan x GN! Reader  Word Count:  2,866 words Warning(s): Cheesy, kinda rom-com-y, probably not perfect lol

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

The forecast was said to be sunny with slight cloudiness. When you opened the window this morning the sky was indeed cloudy, but instead of sun it was matched with a downpour.

You and Satan had planned the whole day together.

Starting with a relaxing morning of talking and reading in eachothers arms. Then to go for a walk around town, window shopping till dinner time. But since it was stormy outside and you weren’t really in the mood to get dressed up to then get soaked.

But although going out wasn’t really an option anymore, you were still going to spend your day relaxing with Satan as you’ve already planned.

The agenda was already in motion as you and Satan started your day having breakfast together, followed by hanging out in his room reading and cuddling. When it came to be around noon you went to take a shower. Once you were out, your hair still damp, you headed back to Satan’s room. But when you knocked on his door and opened it, the room was empty.

“Hmm.” Since he wasn’t in his room, you went to the study. But came to find he wasn’t there either, infact, he wasn’t anywhere in the house. ‘Where the hell is he?’ Letting out a sigh, you headed back to your room and texted him.

Y/n: “Hey, where are you?”

Satan: “Sorry, something came up and I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I should be home in a couple hours. 💚

Closing your messages you sigh, falling onto the plush mattress of your bed.

Since Satan wouldn't be around for a while you spent your time doing some work. In the time waiting for him you finished up an assignment for class and tidied up your room a bit. Nothing too exciting but it beat just sitting around. While scrolling through Devilgram you got another message from the awaited demon.

Satan: “I’m probably gonna be another hour or so.”

Sitting up in bed, feeling a bit defeated, you leave to go downstairs. On your way down you ran into Beel and Belphie. “Hey, Y/n.”

“Hey, Beel. Whatcha guys up to?”

“Nothing much, actually we wanted to see if you wanted to come hang out for a bit.”

Considering the request, you accept. “Sure, why not. Satan won't be home for a bit longer anyways.” You say, a bit sadder than you intended.

“Great! I got some new snacks I want you to try. Come on.” Beelzebub says with a smile, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

~~~

It had been awhile since you’ve entered the twins room. The time was spent eating different treats and chatting. Feeling ready to leave you stood up, “Well I think Imma head out. I had a lot of fun with you guys but I don’t want to intrude anymore.”

“Wait!” Beel says. Belphegor sighs at his brother's outburst.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong.” Belphegor corrects. “It’s just that we don’t get to spend much time with you it seems. With you dating Satan and all, Beel just thought we could have you around a bit longer.”

You frown a bit. “I’m sorry guys, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just sit back down.”Belphie sighs, making you laugh.

~~~

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Door’s open.” Beel hollars, not looking up  from the card game the three of you are playing. The door opens,

“There you are.” You turn towards the familiar voice to see the man you’ve been waiting for. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

“You should be.” You sass.

“Mind if I take her from you guys?” Satan asks his brothers. They nod their heads, engrossed by their game. Putting your cards down you say your goodbyes to leave the room with Satan. Once the door is closed you smack his chest, causing him to laugh. “Woah, easy.”

“You know, you left me high and dry, right?” You cross your arms, brow raised.

“Yes, yes I did. Won’t you forgive me?” Placing his hands on your hips, he looks down at you with his gemstone eyes.

“Fine! But don’t think I’ll let it slide again.”

“I wouldn’t expect it.” He smiles, punctuating his sentence with a chased kiss.

Back at your bedroom, you walk in while Satan stays on the other side of the door. “Well, aren’t you gonna come in?” You say.

“Nope. That’s because I’m leaving you to get dressed.”

“Wait, why?” You asked, confused.

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you.” He grins, “Now get dressed. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” Before you can say anything else, he closed the door. And with that you spent the next hour getting ready.

Stepping in front of a mirror you take a look at your work. Wearing your best outfit, admiring how the rich green fabric accentuates your body perfectly. Your hair styled. Face fresh. Brushing the invisible wrinkles from your front you head to the stairs. From the top you see Satan standing at the bottom, dressed in his finest suit. His eyes light up when they land on you, a smile accompanying the starlight gaze.

Descending the staircase you take your time letting your eyes wander down his frame.  His hair is combed back, allowing a clear view of his shape features. His body’s adorned with a well fitted suit, the breast pocket housing a pocket square in his signature color. Trailing your vision down to where his hands join at his stomach. A bouquet of peonies resides between his palms.

Nearing the end of the staircase he extends his hand, guiding you down the last few steps. Standing before him he looks down at you, words yet to be spoken between you. Bringing your hand to his lips he places a kiss on your knuckles.

“You look perfect.” He confesses, almost in a whisper as if speaking to himself. “These are for you.” Offering your hands the flowers, he smiles.

Looking down at the bouquet you admire the layered petals in variants of blush pink. Taking a breath of the sweet smell you sigh. “They’re gorgeous, Satan. You didn’t have to get me any~.” You’re cut off by a strong arm taking yours.

“Of course I did. Every beautiful person deserves the small treasures of life.” His voice is like butter. The way each syllable rolls off his tongue effortlessly, always seeming to have an answer for everything.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.” He says with a wink.

Reaching the back of the house you are led to a door that leads into another study of sorts.

Upon opening the door you hear soft jazz and the fireplace crackling in the air. Looking around you see candles lit and flowers everywhere. A few vases of the same pink flowers in your hands scattered around the room and petals trailing a path through double-doors that lead to a patio area that has a full view of the lush garden with a pond. Outside under the covering you see a table set for two with more candles littered about. A bottle of wine and two glasses reside there waiting for you. Breathing in the smell of the earth mixed with the rain you sigh.

You’re speechless. The music. The setting. Him. It’s all perfect.

“Oh, Satan. This is… amazing. How~ When?” Your mind is racing.

“I’ve been working on it all day. Since we couldn’t go out for Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d bring it to us. Do you like it?” He asks, worried he might have done too much.

Placing your bouquet on the table, you turn around to wrap your arms around his shoulders, drawing him in for a kiss.

Pulling back you gaze into his eyes, your fingers gently raking through his golden locks. “I love it.” Satan smiles, relieved. ”So, I’m guessing that’s why Beel and Belphie asked me to hang out. You just needed a distraction, and here I thought they actually missed me.”

“Well, truthfully, I did ask them to make sure you didn’t come downstairs. Though, what they did to accomplish that I had no part in. But enough about that, please ~.” Satan says, gesturing at the quaint table. “Would you like to sit down?” Satan asks, pulling out your chair. Accepting his invitation you sit down. His fingers linger awhile after  pushing you in, as he makes his way to the other side of the table. Handing you a glass of wine he poured, your fingers hold his for a moment before separating once again. “You’re not cold are you?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine.” You were definitely more than fine, you actually began to feel a bit warm. The way his eyes look over you. Unable to read what he must be thinking. Your guesses and wishes of what those thoughts may be only made you warmer. Shaking yourself from those thoughts you relax into your chair.

Sitting in comfortable silence. The music playing, lulls you into a trance. Sipping your wine you sway to the mellow notes. You don't notice right away how Satan is watching you. His chin propped on his hand, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. When you see him eyeing you, you sit up straight and laugh a bit. You feel your cheeks heat up slightly. 

Getting up, Satan offers you his hand once again.

“Won't you dance with me?”

“Of course.” You say, taking his hand.

Standing in the middle of the covered area, your left hand enclosed in his as your right rests on his shoulder. His strong arm wraps around your back holding you close. Swaying to the notes playing in the air, you rest your head on his chest. Breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk. His cheek rests upon your head, pressing a gentle kiss in your hair.

Looking up, your eyes meet, foreheads touching. His eyes alone are enough to speak a thousand words for him. They tell you everything he doesn’t.

They compliment you. Say how much they adore you. They say, ‘I need you!’

In this silent conversation your free hand moves to cup his cheek. The sweet touch makes him sigh into you. Reachin up he holds your wrist to kiss your palm. His eyes, never leaving yours. You can’t help the giggle that leaves your throat. The sweet yet sensual motion creates butterflies in your stomach.

Releasing you, allowing your hand to resume its place on his shoulder as his, goes to rest on your hip.

“You know I love you, right?” He says. A flirtatious glint in his eye.

“Well of course you do. It’s only natural.” You say playfully making him laugh. His toothy grin makes your heart flutter.

“Is that so? Then tell me Y/n, what else is ‘only natural’?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment. No matter how long you’ve been together he still somehow manages to make you flustered and giddy. Biting your lip in thought, you smile.

“Well, ignoring the fact you’re a demon and I’m a human.” You start. Pulling another low chuckle from the blonde. “I’d say, this moment and every other moment shared between us is. Being with you, whether in sweatpants on your bed or dressed up like we are now, every minute spent with you is perfect.”

“So you’re telling me I didn’t have to do all this then? I wished you told me sooner, it would’ve saved me a lot of time” He says with a chuckle and slapping his shoulder only made him laugh harder. But you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“Well I’d like to think I’m quite humorous” He says, pulling your waist into his. Leaning down for a kiss but you pull away.

“Is that so? Then prove it.”

He studies your challenging eyes. Kissing his teeth he accepts your jab. “Ok. Then how do you suspect I’ll do that?”

“Hmm.” You look to the side, pondering the question. Then an idea popped in your head. “Ok Mr. Humorous, why don’t you prove to me just how fun you can be by jumping into the pond.” You say, holding back a smile. Seeing him process your request, you are about to laugh when you see him beginning to take off his blazer. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m doing as you asked.” He says with a smirk.

You watch him remove his blazer and button up, followed by his shoes and socks. Standing straight in all his shirtless glory you take a moment to appreciate his physique. His smooth skin stretched over toned muscles. The flexing of his arm as he moves to sweep his hair back to look at you.

“What are you waiting for? Take off your shoes, unless you want to get them dirty.” He says. You let out a hum as his words shake you from your thoughts. He laughs, as if knowing what had you distracted. “You didn’t really think I’d be walking out there alone did you? I expect you to help me out since you’re the reason I’m going to be in there.”

“Fine. But only if I get to push you in.” You say taking off your shoes. He smiles at your requirement.

“Fine by me.”

Holding your jacket over your head to shield yourself from the rain as much as possible you and Satan begin to walk across the grass.

At the pond Satan turns to you, “So are you gonna push me in or do I have to jump in?” Laughing at his question but mostly at his appearance. Already drenched without stepping a single foot into the water.

“Oh I’m gonna push you in.” You say. Inching to the edge of the pond, ready to push Satan in. When your hands make contact with his hot skin a hand wraps around your wrist and before you knew it you were going down with him.

Splashing into the water you come up gasping at the frigid temperature. “Satan!” You say splashing water in his face. All you can hear is the rain and the hearty laugh coming from the demon’s chest. Slicking your hair out of your face you look at the man still laughing. “It’s not funny!” Though despite your words you couldn’t suppress the laugh that comes out of your mouth as well.

“It’s pretty funny if you ask me.”

“That was not part of the deal.”

“Well actually, our deal was you get to push me in. Nowhere in that agreement did we state I couldn’t pull you in with me.” He says, stepping closer to you. His strong arms holding you close edging away the cold around you.

“Well remind me next time to cover all bases because that was cheap and you know it.”

“They don’t call me a demon for nothing.” He says. His voice low, a small smirk playing his lips. Droplets of water fall from the loose strands of hair around his face.

“You look like a wet dog.” You say, pushing his wet hair back.

“I think we both do but that doesn’t matter, right? What was it you said earlier? No matter where we are, as long as we are together, it's perfect? Well to that I couldn’t agree more.” His words make you smile, warmth fills your chest. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. Once your lips touch the arms around your body tightens, lifting you up. Encircling your legs around his waist your kiss deepens. Your tongues dancing with one another. The taste and feeling of him sends electricity through you. Your fingers coil in his wet locks. Everything around you faded away. You couldn’t feel the rain or hear the music playing in the house anymore. Your senses are completely consumed by him. His touch. His smell. Everything. You wanted it all. You couldn’t care less where you were at this moment. You’d sooner let yourself drown in the water around you than let go of him. How can one person have such an affect on you?

Pulling away, both catching your breaths, your foreheads resting against each other. Though separated, the heat between you two is ever-present. His large hand cradles your cheek, keeping you close. His eyes shut for a moment to collect himself before looking back to you. His gaze is softer than before,

“I love you more than you know. Thank you for being mine.” Your chest swells. Stocking his cheek you kiss his lips once more.

“You don’t need to thank me, Satan. But I will ask you to warn me next time you decide to throw me in water.” You tease, but you both know you don’t really mind how things turned out.

“Let’s go back inside and warm up by the fire.” He smirks.

“I’d love that.”

Satan carried you back to the study where the rest of the night was spent by the fire where many more heated touches were shared. Maybe getting soaked in the rain wasn’t so bad after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh lord she can never post anything on time or in a timely manner huh? . . . Nope! :)

But I hope you enjoyed this somewhat. I know it’s not perfect but I still think it’s pretty cute. Cheesy ... but cute :3

I hope you had a good Valentines day with your 2D or 3D baes.

Till next post ~ 💛💛💛

#obey me! #shall we date obey me #shall we date #obey me satan #shall we date satan #satan #satan x reader #x gn reader #obey me x reader #fluff #valentines day

[mystyrust]

Fracture - Ectober 2020

Day 2 Prompt: Bones / Pulse  

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203635

Word Count:  2387

Tags: Past torture, identity reveal

There were many ways Maddie liked to spend her weekend. When her kids were younger, she and Jack would take them out to museums or parks – a family outing. Now that her kids are in high school and have a lot of homework, they don’t go out every weekend anymore. In fact, it feels like they haven’t had time to bond as a family in months. Jazz is always in the library and Danny is always with his friends – sometimes even sleeping over – or catching up on missed homework. Maddie could never figure out why Danny had a backlog of homework to catch up on, yet always had time to hang out with Sam and Tucker.

Now, with her kids spending all their free time by themselves, Maddie liked to spend her free time in her lab, creating and improving her inventions to catch the elusive ghost Phantom. It had been around the time that Phantom appeared that Danny and Jazz became more distant – while both her children were in support of the ghost vigilante, Maddie and Jack were against it, devoting their free time into solving the mystery of what made Phantom different from every other ghost that haunted Amity Park. They wanted to catch it, run experiments with it, and dissect it.

So this weekend was like any other – Maddie was huddled in her lab with Jack, working out the schematics of a new invention – when their Fenton Ghost Detector beeped; a strong ecto-signature was detected inside the Fenton household. This was normal if the ghost came out of the Fenton portal – this signature came from… the living room. Maddie and Jack ran up to find Phantom having stumbled through the front door, leaking ectoplasm behind it.

“What do you think you’re doing here, spook?!” Jack raised his ecto gun at the intruder, his large frame standing in between Maddie and the ghost. But Phantom was in no shape to fight.

“I… I need help,” The ghost managed to gasp out. Maddie paused in confusion. The ghost had tears streaming down its face, heavy breathing, and ectoplasm leaking down one limp arm. It’s mimicking of human physiology was fascinating. And to come to ghost hunters for help? Either this was a trap, or it wasn’t thinking straight.

“The..guys in…white… barely got away from them,” Phantom continued to explain. Maddie noticed him sway where he stood. And that was the weird part – he stood. Not floated. And he had legs, instead of a spectral tail.

“Please, before they… finish me… like they did…”

Jack lowered his ecto gun ever so slightly – not lowering his guard, but still confused about what to do. It was odd, seeing the always confident Phantom reduced to pleading and begging its former enemies. Something in his psyche was so shattered from his experience with the GIW…

Maddie didn’t know what to make of that, but she couldn’t waste a perfectly good opportunity when it knocked phased right through her front door.

“Let’s… let’s stabilize him for now,” Maddie said, lowering Jack’s aim. “Then we can ask him what happened. And decide what to do after that,”

Jack nodded in agreement. He gingerly placed his ectogun down, approaching Phantom with both is hands up and in front.

“We’ll help you, spook,” Jack spoke loud and purposefully. “But we’ll need to take you down to the lab to do that,” Phantom nodded slightly, and Jack took that as permission to walk up to the ghost. Phantom was… he wasn’t heavy but Jack wasn’t expecting the ghost to be as solid and corporeal as he was. He lifted the ghost in his arms, and followed Maddie down to the basement.

The ghost offered little resistance, but he was breathing heavily, and leaking a concerning amount of ectoplasm from his limp arm and one of his legs. It must be difficult to keep up the charade of struggling to breathe, when he’s lost as much ectoplasm as he has, Maddie thinks.

They place him on an examination table, with Maddie grabbing a scanner and running it over his damaged arm.

“Jack…” Her voice shuddered, “His arm is… it’s fractured.”

“What? That makes no sense, he doesn’t even have…bones…” but the scanner showed Jack exactly that.

There were a million and one questions that ghosted Maddie’s lips: How did you get bones? Do other ghosts also have bones? Where do the bones in your body go when you form a spectral tail? Are your bones made of calcium, just like human bodies? But the words that left her mouth were:

“You have bones?”

All her years of academic study, her dual MD/PhD, wasted on a Captain Obvious™ moment.

“Yeah, no duh,” Phantom cracked an eye open, while the rest of his face continued to grimace. “And it hurts…like hell…” There was that snarky teenaged attitude the Fentons were so familiar with.

“How do we even treat this?” Jack asked. One of Phantom’s legs was badly muddled – peeling the suit back revealed deep and numerous gashes. He was losing ounces of ectoplasm a second, and if these injuries were on a human, he’d need blood transfusion and stitches.

“Well, we can supplement ectoplasm to help his healing factor. And then…” Maddie gulped. “Stitch the leg. And set the arm.”

Maddie went to the back of the lab, returning with a set of tools. Scalpels, needles, and bandages. The glint of the metal must have caught Phantom’s eyes – how was he still conscious? A human with this much blood loss would not be awake right now – and the ghost started hyperventilating.

“What are you –? No, please! Please don’t! I wasn’t – !”

“Phantom! We’re helping you!” Jack yelled back. Phantom stared at Jack, eyes fogging over and breathing uneven.

“I’m sorry I never…I should have told you sooner,” Phantom cried. It was an ugly cry, from a body and heart in pain. Maddie didn’t know what else to call it. What kind of guilt could be eating Phantom alive, from the inside?

“I can’t –” Phantom grunted. “I can’t change back! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I should have –”

“How about we help you first, then you tell us what you should have told us when your arm and leg are better?”

Phantom, still sniffling, nodded silently.

Maddie set to work with putting stitches on his leg, while Jack hooked an IV of purified ectoplasm. She looped phase proof thread – from Jack’s Fenton Fishing Pole – onto a surgical needle, and set to work, closing one of the many wounds. Since the wound was deep, Maddie needed to stitch the inner layers first, before sewing the outer layers shut. She was marveled at the level of detail in this ghosts’ body – maybe she could ask him about that when he was healed up.

It was strange that only one leg was injured, while the other leg looked fine. It was stranger how Phantom’s breathing and crying hitched every time her needle pierced his flesh.

“Phantom, can you –? Can you feel the needle as I –?”

“Mhmm,” Phantom managed to grunt, tears freely flowing from his eyes. “Please hurry, Mom.”

Maddie froze in her tracks. Why did he even –? Okay calm down.

He can feel pain. He can display emotion. He can appear delusional with loss of bodily fluids. And in that delusion, he seeks a parental figure.

He has the psyche of a child, her rational mind concludes. So she’ll play that part.

“Almost,…Almost done, sweetie.” Maddie responds hesitantly. “You’re doing great.”

As for the feeling pain part, she isn’t how drugs can affect a ghost – and she can’t take a chance that Phantom will react badly to some experimental medication they use on him. She can only hope that he passes out at some point, and doesn’t feel any pain for the remainder of the procedure. From watching previous footage of his battles in chronological order, Maddie had concluded that Phantom has a fast healing factor. She can only hope that healing factor is still fast. He’ll be fine.

Funny how in the course of an hour, she stopped thinking of Phantom from an “it” and started to think of Phantom as a “he”

It took thirty more minutes of verbal coaxing and soothing for Maddie to finish stitching Phantom’s leg. He promptly passed out when that was done. While Phantom was asleep, Jack finished bandaging the arm, adding a splint to keep it straight.

Finally, with ghostly patient asleep and treated, Maddie and Jack sat down, exhausted.

“Well, I never thought – ” Jack paused, unsure how to word it. They learned more about Phantom’s physiology today than ever before, and he broke every known convention about ghosts that they’d researched thus far. Not to mention a ghost turning to a ghost hunter for help.

“I want to take a sample of his ectoplasm while we can,” Maddie said. “But he might not have enough to spare. And I have a feeling that we’ll get more questions than answers under the microscope, too.”

“You’re right,” Jack agreed. “I wonder what he went through, for him to be as injured as he was and decide to come to us, of all people. Heh, Danny and Jazz would freak.”

“Well, Danny’s sleeping over at Sam’s again, and Jazz was tutoring someone else this weekend.” Maddie mused. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Phantom stayed here for a few days without them even knowing.” It hurt her to know how detached her children had become from her, and it hurt her to know that her assessment of the situation was objectively correct – Jazz and Danny were rarely home.

“Well, he mentioned the guys in white,” Jack said. “If they are the ones who did this to him, and we protect him from those guys, we can earn his trust. And then maybe he’ll let his guard down enough for us to …at least solve the mystery of what he is.”

The two scientists stare at the sleeping form of Phantom, noticing how even in a seemingly unconscious state, his chest rises and falls with each breath.

“With his consent, I suppose,” Jack added.

_

A few hours later, in the middle of dinner, Maddie and Jack are interrupted to rude knocking from their front door.

“Ugh, not another door to door salesman,” Jack grunted. Answering the door revealed that their rude guests were none other than

“GIW,” an agent dressed in white answered, holding up an identification badge. There were two agents, both equipped with ecto guns and headphones, Maddie noted.

“Yes, we can see that,” Jack responded, keeping the shock out of his face. “If you wanted to come over for dinner, you should have called earlier. We don’t have leftovers.”

“We came to inform you that Phantom has escaped our captivity,”

“We didn’t even know you had Phantom in captivity,” Jack raised his brows in surprise.

“Just a few hours of questioning. We underestimated his abilities, and his allies.” The agent continued. “We’ll need extra weapons, the latest of whatever you’ve developed.”

“Well, we don’t have anything, since we gave you everything we made last time,” Maddie interjected. “So we don’t have anything complete yet. And besides, wouldn’t it have been faster for you to send an email or announcement that Phantom escaped? You must have lost a lot of time driving around to come tell us in person.”

“You never know who could be listening.”

“And besides,” the agent in the back added, “There was a chase. We don’t know where he disappeared to, but we suspect he stopped by here.”

“And why do you think he stopped by here?” Jack was very good at keeping the caution out of his voice, Maddie noted. If it were her, their cover would have probably been blown by now.

“Isn’t it weird for a ghost to hide out at a ghost hunter’s house?”

“True, but the same ghost uses technology he stole from a ghost hunter, and he can go into the ghost zone from the portal in your basement,” This was nothing new to Maddie. In fact, it annoyed her that Phantom used Fenton tech, because it meant he somehow evaded ghost detectors in their home to acquire it, or it was handed to him directly by Danny or Jazz. That last one hurt the most; she couldn’t bear the thought of her children going behind her back to support someone who was the very antithesis of everything they stood for.

Or, someone who used to be that. Maddie isn’t sure how she feels about Phantom now, but at the very least, she doesn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“Well, we’ve been home all day, and our equipment didn’t detect anything. But if we find anything new, we’ll call.” Jack told the two agents.

“Alright, stay on alert!” The first agent said, before leaving. Jack closed the front door, and the two waited until they saw the agents sit in their vehicle and drive off, before moving from their spot. Thank goodness they didn’t come inside or into the lab; the lab’s high ectoplasmic content could somewhat mask Phantom’s signature, and could be explained as a false positive on ghost detecting radars, but they wouldn’t be able to hide an unconscious ghost – an unconscious ghost! How wild is that?! – if the agents wound up downstairs.

Maddie breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s been a few hours, let’s check on him”

Maddie and Jack headed downstairs to their lab. Just as they had left him, Phantom was sleeping on the examination table, hooked to an IV of ectoplasm. The fracture on his arm looked like it would heal completely – the naturally cool body temperature of the ghost helped, along with his quick healing factor. His leg looked significantly better, though Maddie wasn’t sure if the stitches would leave behind scars.

Maddie pulled a notebook from the work table, adding and updating her notes with everything they’d learned about Phantom today.

“Can ghosts get scars?” Maddie mused out loud. “Or is it unique to him?”

“I dunno, I guess we’ll have to ask –”

Their conversation is interrupted by a groan – Phantom was waking up – followed by a flash of bright white light. The Fentons covered their eyes, and when the light died down, they’re met with even more questions than answers.

“Danny?!”

#ectoberweek2020 #ectober2020 #danny phantom #dp fanfic #day 2

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Part 2

Erik unparked his Honda for this so they wouldn't have to ride the bus on their classy date. His car wasn't fancy and it had a small ding but unlike many college students, at least he had one. He had a half tank of gas and had to spray the car with borrowed febreeze since his boy Geo was the last to use it and he'd had a smokeout with some girl on campus, getting his thang sucked. Erik could still smell hints of it though he could tell Geo made an effort.

He cleaned and aired the car and went on. By the time he finished practice, read the chapter assigned from chem, re-showered, rubbed himself with cocoa butter, touched up his mustache with the clippers, and dressed like Brit requested it was time to pic her up.

Erik stood straight in a houndstooth fitted suit showing off his narrow waist, long legs, and broad shoulders. The crisp white button up left open at the neck showed off his signature gold necklace and his smooth brown skin stretched over bone and muscle. He liked it that way. Adjusting his lapels gently, he spun back to face his roommate.

"Thrifting," he muttered answering the unspoken question as he put on his better watch to complete the look.

"Wooo," his roommate Chris frowned, face scrunched from the fire of the suit.. "Pass that to me when you done," he gushed rubbing his own ashy arms as if he had chills. "I need a suit.. Yeah.. I'm a get on my grown man," he sighed as if he planned to go out and buy one immediately.

"Get one," Erik advised.

"I know you ain't going on no date. You taking bitches to spend money now?"

Erik spritzed himself very lightly with his official SpiceBomb cologne, the one he wore to entice and impress. The subtleness would have his date coming in real close to smell him.

"Maneuvers, Chris. You wouldn't understand," he scoffed walking out with a different swag. A grown man swag. He applied a little Dollar Tree chapstick to his notoriously bigass lips midwalk hoping they'd get a lot of use. He also kept a pack of gum with his wallet for his breath. "Brittany," he spoke saying her full name when she picked up the phone. He was outside, leaning against his car with one ankle crossed over the other, his loafer game clean. These were the loafers he wore to interviews.

"I'm coming," she said and he heard her moving around before she remembered to hang up. His eyes remained on where she'd exit from her dorm and when she appeared, he could automatically tell it was her on the stairs before she got out of the building. He looked down briefly, a small smile coming on his face. He felt like he was headed to prom again. She looked damn good and when she emerged she was obviously checking him out too.

She'd re-done her hair in wavy curls and she wore a fitted yellow dress, shoulders and chest exposed and well moisturized. For the first time, he noticed she had a bigass tattoo on her shoulder going into her arm and his interest was peeked. He loved women with tattoos, especially sleeves. It was sexy. She was winning him over already. Enough for him to at least be interested in her story.. or the story behind the tattoo. He had a tat on the back of his neck himself, an initial and a date. Her shoes were a perfect match to her dress color-wise. He was impressed. He hated when big girls dressed sloppy and old-fashioned with too much useless fabric. She looked her age and luscious like a BBW chocolate cake. He ain't mind the rolls.

"What," she mouthed referring to the look on his face as she approached.

"I'm tryna be a gentleman," he smiled, forced, with a subtle shrug giving her the gist of his thoughts before he walked around the car to open the passenger side to guide her in, closing the door.

"Where are you taking me," she smiled at his profile as he drove through city traffic past busses and through narrow lanes. He noticed she really ain't bring not a thing. She was determined not to pay, not even a toll.

The first place he took her was to an upscale art gallery, very bougie, where he walked around and stared thoughtfully at art pieces beside her, faking an interest. It required him to read the informative blurbs and make bullshit guesses about the artists' intent and meaning as he listened to Brit go on and on with her theories. She wished twice that she could take a canvas home to her dormroom, hinting around but Erik didn't have $3,000 to spend just as he knew she didn't or she'd have put the damn thing on layaway. He'd done well though, she was obviously enjoying herself.

"What do you think these colors represent when they transition that way, from blues to black and then red," she wondered aloud taken by a series of abstract paintings. He did not care.

"Well, the red could be rebirth after the blue sadness and the black in the middle is the death, so the artist has been through something impactful and considers themselves in a period of change," he guessed pulling it from his ass.

"I think you're right," she paused thoughtfully. She stood there another minute as he pretended to analyze next to her until they'd seen it all.

"Oh.. look at the time," he paused looking at his watch when the alotted museum time he'd set in his mind, was up. In true gentlemanly fashion, he escorted her to dinner on a harbor cruise where they floated down the harbor to the sound of live jazz. Classy as fuck, especially for a college boy. He used his best etiquette with polite conversation and she ate it all up, saying multiple times how 'nice' and 'beautifoo' it all was. She even called him "such a gentleman." He knew he'd hit a home run. There was even dessert.

"You enjoy yourself?" He knew the answer but still asked on the way back to campus. She was still smiling and talking about the boat. She had a nice smile.

"Yeah, you?" He felt her look in his direction and he smirked.

"Yeah, I had a good time.. Didn't expect you to dance."

"Had to, I was feeling that sax."

"That's why I had to get up and join you, couldn't leave you up there alone," he teased leading to more jokes and banter. His mind kept going to her tattoo, the thing he was most interested in and he looked for his in to ask about it, finding it when she shimmied her shoulder and raised her arm to the song on the radio. "So, what's your tattoo," he asked. "What's it mean?"

"It's a compass for my mom pointing and a rose and then then it says Always in my mind, Forever in my heart with her name over here," she points to a word in large script. Charmayne. "She died three years ago, cancer."

He nodded and when they reached a light, he turned to show his tattoo briefly before readjusting in his seat and focusing on the road. "M.F. for my nigga Major. He got shot my junior year in high school, he was a senior bout to graduate when some niggas killed him over drugs. He's the reason I'm in school now."

"Guess we got more in common that we thought."

"Yeah, bad shit..."

"Good shit too," she pointed out. If you count being greek and in school then she's right.

When they reached the campus their conversation began to slow, halting when he parked the car. She knew what time it was, he hoped he wouldn't have to spell it out.

"...Come on up," she said opening her own door to get out. He followed her inside the building and into her space where he saw her roommate sleep on the common room futon. Brit held a finger in front of her mouth as she continued to her room. "She knew you were coming. I asked her to give us some space."

"Aight." He looked around the bedroom space, "I don't need space right now... Why you all the way over there?" He faced the door she was still standing at and she closed it stepping forward slowly with measured steps as he watched her turtle-like movements. She looked nervous all of a sudden. "...You good?"

"Yeah, take your clothes off," she directed. Easy. He stripped quickly standing there in his black briefs, gold necklace, and watch only.

"Your turn," he gestured before stretching his arms. She was pausing too long for it to sit right with him, but if he asked her one more time if she was okay, she'd probably use it as an excuse to get him out and he hadn't done all that work just to strip to his draws and leave. He decided to be patient. "Take it off, girl," he encouraged swinging his arms. "It's just me and you." She laughed a little but it seemed more like nerves. As she started to try to remove the dress, she paused again like she wasn't sure.

"Let me get your zipper," he offered moving behind her to unzip the dress. He hesitated before deciding to unhook her bra while he was back there. She held her titties like they'd spill if she didn't and he had to wonder why she was suddenly so conservative. "Are you a virgin?" He knew it was a dumb question. Engine RED with the tattoos a virgin? He could laugh.

"Don't tell anyone we know," she whispered and his back went stiff. This had to be a joke.

"I'm being Punk'd right now," he laughed dryly, turning back to his clothes and back. "Please tell me you joking right now..." He waited as she stood there with a guilty expression and in that moment he was so let down. His BBW hot girl fantasy had died just that fast. Engine RED was a fraud, wasn't nothing fiery about her. She couldn't fuck like a bad bitch she just knew how to dance, that was it. Sighing, he slid his hands down his face. She'd gotten him..

"Chill out," she waved putting his thought on pause. "What I'm tryna say is I'm a virgin, but I am still down to do what we planned. You just gotta be patient and help me a bit," she gestured and he stared blankly wondering if it was worth it it to break her in. It was, he determined. Afterall, he was a que. If he couldn't turn her out then who the hell could? Not a kappa. Not a theta. He couldn't let another que do it either because he'd already opened her up to he receptive. He wouldn't let them take his credit. His ego and reputation was tied to this now that he'd gone so far for her.

"Brit. I'm a keep it 100, you know what I'm about," he warned seeing that she understood without him having to say too much. She knew what it was.

"Look, I'm tired of being a damn virgin, I'm ready.. and you can leave after," she retorted taking off her heels.

"I probably will," he scoffed honestly. It wasn't personal. "If you really serious, take off the dress and if you got spanks you might as well take them off too," he instructed hopping onto the twin bed and resting with his hands behind his head. He felt like he was too tall for the bed, his feet hung off. "Come on," he rushed and when she finally finished stripping, she climbed onto the creaking bed over him, her body against his getting him hard. She avoided his lips and he assessed it was on purpose because he certainly hadn't moved. "What, you don't wanna kiss me," he mused.

"I'm not gonna kiss you," she shifted her weight, "That means more to me so I don't wanna kiss you," she explained. She made a fair point.. however.. he loved to kiss. His lips could kill and she needed to experience them, it was crucial. He had to kiss her.

"You on any form of birth control?"

"Yeah, but still use a condom because like you said I don't know you that well."

That offended him, but he could understand.

"I ain't got nothing, but sure."

"Hey, I gotta protect me! If I don't, who will?"

His eyes rolled. She was right.. again. He couldn't even be mad. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and rolled, pulling her and pushing his weight over so that her back was on the bed and he was lying on top. Now that he had her exactly where he wanted her, it was time to show her exactly why he had so many bodies in his count.

#erik killmonger x oc #killmonger smut #killmonger #erik x oc #original

[unofficialkfamtranscripts]

King Falls AM - Episode Eight: Electrolocaust Now

View on Google Docs

Summary: August 15, 2015 - Sammy & Ben have planned a tribute to King Falls AM's resident jazz legend Chet Sebastian, however an impromptu, and selective power failure, takes out most of the station's broadcast tools, leaving the boys to fend for themselves.

[podcast intro music]

[KFAM intro music]

Sammy Good evening, King Falls. You’re listening to 660 on the radio dial and I’ve gotta tell you, we’ve got a heck of a show this evening. We’re paying tribute to King Falls’ musical legend and Ben’s old boss, jazz maestro Chet Sebastian. We’ll be discussing [static/buzz] 40 years of— [sound of things powering down]

Ben [confused] What the hell?

Sammy Uh— W-what did I touch?

Ben I don’t think it was you. [sound of Ben getting up]

Sammy Sorry, ladies and gents. It seems we’re having a slight technical difficulty here. Uh- ye- hey, my computer’s down, Ben.

Ben Yeah mine too. Sammy, I don’t know if they can even hear us. We might be… out out.

Sammy *sigh* Well, okay then. Uh. We’re live and we’re winging it, folks!

Ben [smugly] Au contraire, my friend! You should know: I’ve got a backup plan. And a backup for the backup plan.

Sammy [incredulous] Uh-huh.

Ben Lemme just pull out- the- [rustling] trusty— smartphone, aaand— [dull clatter]

Sammy And?

Ben It’s off.

Sammy Well.*laugh/huff* Good thing you’ve got a backup for this.

Ben It’s… an expression. We’re, *anxious sigh* we’re flying blind, Sammy. Check your phone.

Sammy It’s, uh, it, it is off, uh, let me guess, the ghost—sorry, apparition—

Ben Thank you.

Sammy Of Marconi[1] just visited the station and just decided to start yanking wires.

Ben Maybe Merv forgot to pay the electric bill.

Sammy The lights, the mics, it’s not electricity, this is selective. [disgruntled] Uh, you know, but thanks for being so cheap and old, Merv, it may have spared 660 from the wrath of Skynet.

Ben Yeah, the board’s lit up and so are the phones. I, I don’t get it.

Sammy King Falls, have you gotten whacked by this random and seemingly mischievous power outage?? Uh, you, you’ve heard our story, let’s hear uh- wait, can they hear us?

Ben Good call. [sound of Ben getting up]

Sammy I, I don’t understand why some of this stuff is working and some of it is out! [slightly desperate] What are we doing, Ben? Y-y— [radio interference in bg] Now’s not the time to go rogue!

Ben [in bg] Radios are working, Sammy. [closer] We’re live.

Sammy *sigh* Well, you’re hearing our story right now, King Falls, let’s hear yours. If you’ve got a phone that’s- working, give us a call or tweet us @KingFallsAM—

Ben Can’t check the Twitter.

Sammy Damn it! *sigh* Let’s take a call, Ben.

Ben But- the- schedule!

Sammy Dude, what schedule?! The one locked in the computer that zoinked out, or the one that’s locked in our iPhone that won’t power up?

Ben [muttered]Damn your logic. Line one!

Sammy You’re live on the air with Sammy and Ben. Hope you’re well on this weird-ass evening.

Line 1 [slightly suggestively]Hey, Shotgun!

Sammy *exasperated sigh* Hey, man. What’s your name again?

Line 1 Not important! *chuckles* I-I jusht wanted to check in with my favorite AM radio hosht and tell you you’re coming in loud and clear on my end. Loud and clear! Ha ha! Haaa. [realizing] Am I on the air?

Ben You’re live, sir.

Sammy So how are things in your neck of the woods? Any technology issues? Things not powering up and on for you?

Line 1 Not a problem in the world, Shotgun, ha ha.

Ben Is he gonna keep calling you—

Line 1 Shotguuunn Shammyyyyy

Sammy *sigh* Was there anything in particular you needed?

CALLER That’sh it! Love the show. SHOTGUN SAMMYYY!!!!

[click, dial tone]

Ben [curiously] What did you do in your past life, Sammy?

Sammy [muttered] You don’t even want to know.

Ben *snickers* Line seven, good evening, you’re on King Falls AM.

Line 7 [guy sounds stoned] Hey Ben, hey Sammy, you dudes doing okay up there?

Sammy All things considered, we’re doing well! Uh, and who are we speaking with?

Doyle Ohh-h-h, this is Doyle. Doyle Bevins, out in Hollybrook Estates.

Ben Hey, Doyle. You having any issues with your computers? smartphone? what-have-you?

Doyle Oh, yeah! ‘Bout- ‘bout five minutes ago, all my toys just shut off. TV, ‘puter, phone. Sounded like a transformer just shut doowwwn.

Sammy Oh! So you had a transformer blow up by you! A- y- c— you know, could that have caused that way up here, Ben?

Ben I—

Doyle Oh, no, nothing like that! Like- like it was Bumblebee[2] powering down like a [gutteral] guchuchuhh aguchuchuhhh.

Sammy …Oh…

Ben Right. Regardless, Hollybrook is a good five miles outside of town. I don’t know if that would’a hit us.

Sammy Doyle, thanks for calling in and letting us know what’s going on with ya.

Doyle Oh, sure thing, bro, but. *chuckles* That’s not why I caallled.

Ben Oh! Uhhh, o-okay.

Sammy What’s on your mind tonight, Doyle?

Doyle Well, before all this new age funky-junk started, I was having some really crazy stuff going on here in the apartment.

Sammy Crazy stuff? Uh, wh-w-what kind of stuff?

Doyle Supernatural stuff.

Ben I’ve got nothing, I’ve never heard of anything going on in Hollybrook.

Doyle Ohohoh, it is in-sane, Ben. It’s like I’m living in some sorta Cybertronian spacecraft.

Sammy Cybertrone— I- I’m not familiar wi— Ben?

Ben It’s a Transformers reference. It’s not real.

Doyle Hey. It’s real, Ben.

Sammy Can you give us an example?

Ben Without referencing a Mike Bay movie.

Doyle Sure thing, bro. So, I’ve got this toaster, right?

Ben Mm-hmm?

Doyle Sometimes— late at night— BOOM! It’ll pop up the scariest damn thing you ever laid eyyes onn.

Sammy So it makes the noise like when the bread is done.

Doyle Ghost Toast, boyyys. It pops— but ain’t nothin’ there.

Ben Doyle… We’re gonna take another call.

Doyle Ohohoho! not good enough for you, Ben, not Spooky-Kooky enough, huh? I’ll do you one betterr.

Ben [dryly] You’d have to.

Doyle Sometimes— late at night— my fridge starts making this Scary hummin’ noise, like HUMMMUMUMUM—

Sammy Doyle.

Doyle —MUM HUMUMUMUM-HUHHH—

Sammy Doyle.

Doyle —MUMM HUUMMUMUHUH-UH-UH-KUH— *coughing* *clearing throat* You get it.

Sammy Doyle. Are you only experiencing this phenomenon with your appliances?

Doyle [impatiently] Ca- can I finish, Sammy? Is that- is that cool? Can I finish?

Sammy I’m sorry, of course.

Doyle Alright. So like I said, it’s just a hurmming so [quietly, sharing-a-secret-like] I sneak in the kitchen, all Vatican assassin-like. [louder] Sling open the door– ACRACKACHOW! – ain’t nothing happening, boys. Mayo and mustard just looking at me like they wanna hop on a sanndwich.

Sammy [“you’re crazy and i’m gonna go”] Alright, Doyle. We’re gonna take another call. Please be careful out there, with the appliances and such.

Doyle Hey, do y’all want me to make a video and send it? *scoff* Pft-Duh! Maybe the electronics are zapped so I can’t prove it, man! It’s a big old vicious circle, bros!

[click, dial tone]

Ben Dear God.

Sammy Take care, Doyle. *sigh* Line nine, you’re on with Sammy and Ben.

Creeper [creepy guy from episode 2 who calls to “listen to Sammy”]Long-time listener here!— Second-time caller.

Sammy [click, dial tone] Nope! Not tonight. I don’t want that. Let’s go ahead and take liiine…

Ben *pointedly clears throat*

Sammy Uh- yes, Ben?

Ben Huhhh, wel- ah- we- we- we need to- play an ad, Sammy.

Sammy Play an ad? You know the computers are off, right?

Ben Mhmm.

Sammy Don’t look at me like that! Don’t even think it!

Ben *whispers*God. [singing to the tune of “If You’re Happy and You Know It”] ♫Whenn- You’re- Hunngry and you know it come to Rose’s!♫

Sammy No.

Ben ♫If you’re starvin’ and it’s showin come to Rose’s!♫

Sammy Ben, please.

Ben ♫We’ve got waffles and cranapples–♫

Sammy Beenn!

Ben I’m just trying to make sure that the clients get their money’s worth?

Sammy I understand that, but you know what? there’s no better way to do that than talking about just how delicious Rose’s Diner can be. Personally, I’m one for the country breakfast. What do you get down there at Rose’s?

Ben Umm, well it’s a fact you just- can’t beat Rose’s fresh doughnuts.

Sammy And from what Troy has told us, they make a mean bagel as well!

Ben I’ve been going to Rose’s all my life? Never had a bad meal there, not one!

Sammy You know, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stopped by for a great meal and good conversation. So if you’re in the neighborhood, just passing through, or wanna feel at home away from home, stop by Rose’s Diner! Right off the interstate.

Ben Exit 44.

Sammy There you go.

Ben You’re good and I’m hungry. [quietly] Man, I could go for the signature pancake puppies.

Sammy Whatever stops that singin’.

Ben Okay, plea—I- I’ll have you know, Mr. Sheffield cast me as the lead in King Falls High School’s rendition of Grease.

Sammy Alright, Zuko[3], well let’s take some calls! Good evening, you’re on with—

CALLER [static/interference]

Ben TIM!

Sammy Ca-can you hear us, Tim?

Pete Sorry, sorry let me turn my radio down.

Sammy [quietly, disappointed] False alarm.

Ben What do you want, Pete?

Pete This isn’t Pete! My name isss… Escobar. And I wanted to tell you that this is the absolute worst broadcast in the history of radio. You two oughta be ashamed!

Sammy We’re just trying to make the best of a bad situation, Pete.

Pete Escobar!

Ben I thought you weren’t ever listening to King Falls AM again, Pete.

Pete I’m not listening! I’m assuming.

Sammy Well you know what they say when you assume something, right, Pete?

Pete ES. CO. BARRRIBA!

Ben Don’t you have some mowing or clipping up to do at Beauregard’s manor?

Pete Racist! But you know dang well no one goes up there after sundown! Ese?

Ben So you admit your employer is a vampire. Hmm. Interesting.

Pete I didn’t say- I didn’t- I didn’t say that! I just don’t wanna whack a weed that ain’t a weed! Ben— start living right. All that scary stuff’s fryin’ yer brain.

Sammy Pete. Escobar. Do you have a reason for calling?

Pete Alright, pushy! Alright, you know what? I swear, I ain’t listening to you ever again, you brow-beating ruffians! Nunca! Nunca, now, I tell ya. [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy It’s gonna be a long night.

[sound of electrical powering down]

Ben Look at the phone lines! We dropped all the calls. Li- line one? Hello? … You’re on with King Falls. Ugh, Nothing. We can’t fill four hours like this, Sammy.

Sammy I’ve got an idea! Gimme your keys, Ben.

[rustling]

Ben This can’t be good.

Sammy Be right back!

Ben Sammy!

[footsteps running away, door closing]

Ben [singing] ♫Strandeeed at the drive iin, braannded a foool♫[4]… Yeah, I still got it. Okay folks, just uhh— lemme just check to see if our regular phones are working, make a little call out. [muttering] What is this, a rotary phone? Sheesh!

[sound of a rotary phone being dialed, ringing]

Emily Hello?

Ben Hey, Emily, it’s Ben! H- I hope I didn’t wake you!

Emily Not at all, I’m listening. What’s going on with the show? and the electronics?

Ben I know, right? I- I just wanted to make sure you were *sniffs* Oh! uh, hey, we’re live, by the way.

Emily As live as can be, right?

Ben Right. *awkward laugh* But, yeah, I just wanted to make sure you were okay with all the— weirdness happening tonight.

Emily I’m fine! Thanks for thinking of me. Good thing I’ve got a land line, I guess.

Ben [awkwardly] If you didn’t I would’ve had to, come over to check.

Emily Oh really? …That’s an interesting thought!

Ben Huh-h- mm- yeah. Y-you know, to- make sure that you’re safe and sound. Like a gentleman?

Emily Oh, of course.

Ben Oh! Uh, so, the other reason I called: um, in all your studies or research, do you ever recall any kind of electronic or- or electromagnetic pulses here in the Falls?

Emily Not to my knowledge. Obviously, I’ll dig more into this later today at the library, but it’s new I think. [door closing in bg] Lucky us!

Ben Lucky us.

[footsteps quickly coming closer]

Sammy Alright! what’d I miss?

Emily Hi, Sammy!

Sammy Hi, Emily! … Hope you’re doing alright tonight.

Ben Hey, I’ll, uh, call you later, okay?

Emily Sounds like a plan!

Ben Night! [click, dial tone] Don’t look at me like that, Sammy.

Sammy [clearly amused and judging Ben] Ah-I didn’t say a word. Crazy power outages and electrical malfunctions— do you call your mom first? Your brother? Nope! You call your local librarian, Emily Potter.

Ben So?

Sammy So it’s cute!

Ben Whatever. W-w-what are you up to over there?

Sammy Well, this is a record player, borrowed from Mr. Chet Sebastian’s office. This is not how we planned the evening, but, thank you, Chet!

Ben And?

Sammy Well, I figure since our fancy— new, high and mighty tech is out, then we’ll just have to bring back some old trusty, reliable stuff to pass the time.

Ben It’s a little telling that most of our broadcast equipment hasn’t gotten shut down.

Sammy Merv, take a note. Upgrade our WKRP radio shack so we can take a night off when everything goes belly-up, huh?

Ben Let me mic that thing up.

[sound of needle on record]

Sammy Alright ladies and gents, you’re listening to King Falls AM, that’s 660 on the radio dial. With me as always is my co-host Ben Arnold and this? This is a little Chet Sebastian jazz to help you through this weird-ass night. Thanks for being a legend, sir.

[jazz music plays]

[CREDITS]

References:

[1] Marconi - Guglielmo Giovanni Maria Marconi, 1st Marquis of Marconi FRSA was an Italian inventor and electrical engineer, known for his pioneering work on long-distance radio transmission, development of Marconi's law, and a radio telegraph system. He is credited as the inventor of radio.

[2] Bumblebee - designation B-127, is a fictional robot superhero in the many continuities in the Transformers franchise. One of the most well known characters from the Transformers.

[3] Zuko - Danny Zuko is the male lead from the popular movie Grease.

[4] “Stranded at the drive-in” - from “Alone at a Drive-In Movie”, one of Zuko’s songs in Grease

#king falls am #king falls #kfam #sammy stevens #ben arnold #kfam transcripts #kfam ep8 #doyle bevins #pete myers

[pcychedelic]

All We’ve Got Is Tonight

Relationship(s): Park Chanyeol/Reader

Tags: Exes, Flashbacks, High School AU, College AU, Slice of Life; Angst, Smut

Rating: Mature (mature themes, explicit language, and sex)

Words: 25k

Synopsis: Weddings bring everyone together - families, friends, old classmates, and exes who have ten years worth of baggage to unload.

Special thanks to my amazing beta readers, Allyssa, Alondra, Faye, Liberty, and Tam for their patience and suggestions. ♡

Part One

“I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again; Take me back to the night we met.”

(Lord Huron, The Night We Met)

 —

 Present Day

The salty night breeze is cool and crisp against your flushed skin. Your cheek feels warm against your palm when you lean on it; perhaps you’ve had five too many glasses of wine for this evening.

The newlyweds are slow dancing to a jazz instrumental version of “Grow Old With You” as they gaze at each other lovingly, and your lips couldn’t help but form a wistful smile. Kyungsoo’s world-famous heart-shaped grin is on full display as it has been all night. No one can blame him, really; Yuna looks beyond beautiful in her wedding gown, the light reflecting on the embedded crystals making her shine—quite literally—as if she isn’t already the most alluring woman in the room. They make a rather striking pair.

Their song choice may be questionable (“Grow Old With You” is terribly cliché for a wedding), but the pure bliss in their eyes is undeniable. Anyone with two eyes can tell that they are what each other has been looking for: the missing piece of the puzzle, or so they say.

You’re not sure how to describe it anymore, because it’s been a while since you’ve felt anything like that—since you’ve felt love.

Something buzzes on the table. Your phone lights up as you look down, displaying a text from a pathetic excuse for a best friend. You still can’t believe he left you here alone.

[ Sehun / 20:46 ] So… did you cry already? I know how weddings turn you into a crybaby.

[ You / 20:46 ] Shut up. Don’t text me. I’m still mad at you.

[ Sehun / 20:48 ] Nah, you love me too much. Is he there?

Your head instinctively snaps up after reading Sehun’s message, looking for someone you know well isn’t there. As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve been looking for him all night. To be fair, he’s supposed to be one of Kyungsoo’s closest friends, so he should be here. But you’re not sure if you’re just telling yourself that in order to justify the disappointment that you felt when you couldn’t find him anywhere.

Byun Baekhyun’s signature smirk suddenly comes into view. “Looking for someone?” He teases, as if he already doesn’t know the answer to his question. He’s still the same annoying kid after all these years.

“Maybe,” you shrug, sipping the last of your fifth wine glass as you arch your brow playfully. “Or maybe I was just looking to see which new girl you’ve managed to charm since the reception started. I stopped counting at four.”

Baekhyun laughs, the loud and high-pitched one he lets out when he’s losing it, and the sound carries a heavy wave of nostalgia with it that almost knocks you off your seat. It’s reminiscent of the high school days when the teacher wasn’t around and you and your friends would circle your armchairs around and just talk and laugh about things, with Baekhyun right in the middle of the commotion as he always was.

That was so long ago, you realize. Something pinches your heart.

“Hmm, maybe you’re the next girl I’ll charm tonight.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “I thought we’ve established long ago that your ‘charms’ don’t work on me.”

“I know,” Baekhyun concedes, but the mischievous smile still hasn’t left his lips. “Everybody knows only one guy has managed to break through your great wall of feelings.”

It’s funny, how just as Baekhyun says that, the man you’ve been searching for all night finally shows up.

He heads to Kyungsoo and Yuna’s table before anything else, apologizing for his astounding punctuality. Nothing much has changed in the way he looks; perhaps he’s grown a bit bulkier and a couple inches taller, but he still exudes the same elfish charisma that you’re all too familiar with.

Another thing you’re all too familiar with? The pang in your chest that only he can incite.

With cold and shaking hands, you grab your phone on the table.

[ You / 20:59 ] He’s here. He just arrived.

[ Sehun / 21:00 ] Interesting.

Ignoring Sehun’s cryptic reply, you lock your phone and put it back down.

You look up to find him now standing in front of you. He looks even more the same up close—it’s almost terrifying. Your chest tightens as you take your first good look at him after ten years; his smile is just as you remember it—as bright as the sun—and his hair is styled in a way that resembles a comma, just like it was back in high school. He looks beautiful, just as you left him. Or rather, the other way around. Technically, it’s him who left you.

You haven’t seen him in so long that now, as you’re looking at him, he looks unreal, like he just somehow materialized from your memory. He seems like a dream, and he is. He always has been a dream.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey, Chanyeol.”

  October 2005

“Chanyeol, please sit down,” Ms. Song sighs.

You laugh at the kid who was scolded. Chanyeol. He’s always at the receiving end of teachers’ scolding, but he’s not really a troublemaker. Well, not totally. He’s just goofy, that’s all. He always has this unmeasurable energy, like he eats a jar of sugar for breakfast, but he’s a nice kid.

You’ve never really talked to him in depth, but he seems like the type of person that wouldn’t be hard to be friends with. Well, he’s friends with Baekhyun, so that’s another good sign.

“Okay, now that Mr. Park’s finally settled down,” Ms. Song begins, “let’s begin our agenda for today. First things first: seating arrangements.”

The class collectively sighs.

“I hate this part of the year,” Sehun whispers. “I don’t want to switch seats. I’m perfectly fine with where I’m seated right now.”

You scoff. “You’re saying that because you copy off of me.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he says. “Who do you want to be seated next to for the rest of the year?”

You look around the room to see if there’s anyone you’re particularly fond of. “Hmm, I’m okay with anyone, actually,” you decide.

“I’m jealous,” Sehun pouts, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him, but then you remember that he’s Sehun. “I’ll take anyone as a seatmate except for Baekhyun. I don’t think I can handle his mouth.”

You just laugh at Sehun’s remark. Byun Baekhyun’s infamous for being loud and outgoing. Teachers usually have a hard time shutting him up.

But Baekhyun’s nice, judging from all the times you’ve hung around him. He’s very easy-going, not difficult at all to be around with. As a matter of fact, you admire his personality; you appreciate people who always find a way to make the mood lively. Perhaps that’s why he’s friends with Chanyeol: they’re like the same person but in different bodies.

“Ms. Class President, if you’re done chortling with Mr. Oh over there, maybe you can come up here and help me do the roll call.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Song,” you smile because you know that she’s not really mad. One of the perks of being class president: you’re the homeroom adviser’s favorite. “‘Kay, guys, you know the drill: take all your stuff and form two lines at the side of the room and then sit where I tell you to.”

The class does as they’re told, but not without a few sad sighs and quiet complaints.

You’ve been in Ms. Song’s advisory class since freshman year and it’s been a tradition to change the class’ seating arrangement after every semester. Though, you’re not sure what’s the point of all this. For all you know, it’s just a waste of Ms. Song’s time to draw up different seat plans every six months, but to her credit, she always comes up with interesting seating arrangements.

The desks are arranged by two, so you don’t really have a choice but to try to get along with whoever your seatmate is going to be. This is why you couldn’t hide your laughter when you saw who Sehun was going to be stuck with for the semester.

“Oh Sehun, you get the honor to sit in the front row this time.”

In very Sehun-like fashion, he makes his way to the seat up front with his signature eye roll. He mutters something about Ms. Song being an old hag while he walks past you, but you couldn’t catch the rest of his sentence. There’s probably some more profanities in there somewhere.

“Byun Baekhyun…”

“Oh hell no,” you hear Sehun say from his seat.

Baekhyun beams. “No way. I get to sit at the front?”

“No,” Sehun repeats in disbelief.

“Yes,” you confirm with a sweet smile that you know will piss Sehun off.

Baekhyun makes his way to the other side of the desk where Sehun’s seated as you continue calling other names, and even though you couldn’t see Sehun, you’re pretty sure he’s scowling right now.

The roll call goes on. “Doh Kyungsoo, you’re with Kim Jongdae. Kim Jongin…” You falter for a second until you realize that you’re speaking in front of the class. You clear your throat, hoping no one noticed. “Jongin next to Soojung.”

From the corner of your eye, you could feel Sehun not trying his best to hide his smirk. You try your best not to glare at him and quietly remind yourself to kill him at lunch.

Jongin walks past you with Soojung following behind him, and you try to ignore the jealousy stabbing at your chest. Of all people, why did it have to be him and her?

Wanting to end the roll call as soon as possible, you babble, “Chanyeol, you’re with me,” before quickly closing Ms. Song’s class book and handing it back to her.

“Thank you, Class President,” she says. “Everyone good with their new seatmates?” A few unsatisfied whispers resonate throughout the room. “Oh, save your breaths. We all know it doesn’t matter who sits next to who in this class, you’re all gonna get loud in a few weeks time anyway. Now onto the second thing on our agenda…”

You probably should’ve been listening to that since you’re class president and all, but you’ve grown a sudden interest in your new desk because your stupid brain couldn’t stop thinking about how Jongin and Soojung are going to be seated next to each other for the rest of the year.

“That was really subtle, by the way,” your new seatmate whispers in your ear. You look at Chanyeol with fake confusion. He expounds, “You know, the roll call with Jongin and Soojung. Really subtle. Pretty sure no one noticed how you looked like someone died when you read their names together.”

You let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Baekhyun was right. You are hilarious.”

“What else has Baekhyun said about me?” He smirks.

“Not much,” you admit. “You’ll have to fill me in on the things he missed.”

  Present Day

“This whole situation is so awkward that it puts the time my mom asked my dad about his mistress to shame,” Baekhyun laughs. He’s right about this moment being awkward, but you’re not sure if he’s kidding about that other thing.

“Thank you, Baekhyun, for pointing out the obvious and for that anecdote no one asked for,” Chanyeol says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Baekhyun stands up from his seat. “I’m impressed, Yeol. You use words like ‘anecdote’ now. Ten years ago you probably didn’t know what that meant.” Chanyeol gives him the middle finger and Baekhyun playfully slaps it away. “I guess I’ll leave the two of you to fill in each other on the things you’ve missed for the past ten years,” he simpers. “Ciao!”

When Baekhyun is out of earshot, Chanyeol says, “He’s still so… annoying.”

“Can’t argue with your logic,” you agree, laughing as you do. “I think it’s cute, though. He hasn’t changed a bit since high school.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be a bad thing? People not changing?”

“Well, it depends on the situation,” you decide after thinking about it for a while. “What I meant was that Baekhyun’s still playful. It’s kind of nice that something from high school still survived after ten years.”

“I guess you’re right,” he chuckles as he finally takes a seat beside you. “You’ve changed, though. Long time no see.”

Suddenly the room feels too cramped despite the venue being outdoors with the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore and the gentle sea breeze blowing through the reception.

“Really?” You force yourself to laugh, trying your best to ignore the way your chest is tightening. “When I saw you I thought you didn’t change much. I just thought you grew taller even though I’m not sure how that’s possible.” You’ve changed a long time ago, you want to add.

Chanyeol smiles, the kind that causes only the left side of his mouth to curl up. Oh, how you’ve missed seeing that. “You just… look different. You’re smiling wider now. It’s nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you sported a terrifying resting bitch face in high school,” he says. “I’m pretty sure you’re aware of that, though. You’re just acting coy right now.”

You smile as you look at Chanyeol curiously, trying to gauge what game he’s playing at tonight.

‘Long time no see’ is the understatement of the century when it comes to the two of you—it’s been literally a decade since you last spoke, let alone saw each other, and yet he’s sitting here casually with you, conversing as if the last message he sent you wasn’t a birthday greeting that never got a response.

It’s not that you haven’t forgiven him. It took you a long time to realize it, but you’ve forgiven him so long ago. It just feels… weird; weird in a sense that it’s like the past ten years never happened, like the two of you are normal friends that are continuing a conversation that was interrupted.

“I’ll admit to the resting bitch face, but not the terrifying part,” you say after a while. “You were never terrified of me. You actually acted way too familiar when we first became seatmates in sophomore year, teasing me about Jongin and shit. It was really annoying, by the way.”

Chanyeol shakes his head and says, “I was extremely terrified of you. Everyone was. Apart from the permanent scowl, you were class president and everything, so you were practically untouchable. I was just trying to be friendly because I saw you hanging out with Baekhyun and anyone who’s okay with Baekhyun’s okay with me.”

“What are you talking about?” You laugh incredulously. “Everyone and their mother’s okay with Baekhyun. He was like friends with the entire school and the whole town.”

“What I meant was,” he begins to explain himself, “Baekhyun was scared of you too, but you turned out to be cool. So I assumed you had the same humor as we did.”

Your brow arches in interest. “Byun Baekhyun was scared of me in high school?”

“Plenty,” Chanyeol confirms, nodding. “Pretty sure he still is. I think everyone else, too. You have a pretty strong personality, and even though Baekhyun acts all laidback and shit, he’s scared of women who come off strong. I’m still wondering how he managed to woo Taeyeon… you remember her, right?”

“I remember Kim Taeyeon, all right,” you nod. She was literally all the boys in the school talked about, so it doesn’t make sense for anyone to not know her. “So is that why Baekhyun’s such a serial flirt? Is it his defense mechanism for women with strong personalities?”

Chanyeol shrugs, “I wouldn’t know. I’m an engineer, not a therapist. Maybe, though.”

He became an engineer after all, you silently tell yourself. Before you can say anything about it to Chanyeol, your phone buzzes again.

[ Sehun / 21:36 ] You’re talking to him right now… aren’t you?

[ You / 21:37 ] What if I am? We’re just catching up.

[ Sehun / 21:37 ] “Catching up” my balls.

“Sehun?” Chanyeol asks, stealing quick glances at your phone. He’s smiling, but there’s something else in his eyes. You don’t want to find out what that is. “I was wondering why he isn’t here.”

“I see that you’re still as nosy as ever.”

Chanyeol crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. “To be fair, I wasn’t the one who asked you for your Twitter password when we were still—”

“You still play ball?” You question quickly to avoid the direction Chanyeol’s trying to steer this conversation into. It’s one thing to catch up; it’s another thing to bring up irrelevant things about the past. “I heard you made varsity in college.”

“Pool B, but yeah,” he answers quietly. “My favorite court’s still the run-down one in our old campus, though. Nothing compares to that, even though the backboard was practically just one layup away from breaking into a million pieces. You remember that?”

Of course you remember that stupid basketball court. How could you not?

“You and Baek and all the other guys cut class just to play ball. Delinquents.”

“Hey!” Chanyeol complains, “You did too!”

  November 2005

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

An annoying shadow blocks the sunlight from where you’re seated. You open your eyes to see the source of the shadow—an equally annoying person. Chanyeol wriggles his eyebrows at you, prompting you to answer him, but your mind goes blank as your vision recovers from the sudden light.

Chanyeol’s uniform is unbuttoned, revealing an undershirt that is horrible at being an undershirt as it leaves very little to the imagination as sweat makes the thin fabric cling to Chanyeol’s skin, outlining the muscles of his torso.

You swallow thickly as you try your best to sound unconcerned. “Can you get your tits out of my face? We get it, you work out. Now, move. I’m trying to get some sun here.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here? Isn’t it third period?”

“What are you doing here?” You turn the tables around. It’s hilarious how he’s telling you that you’re supposed to be in class while him and his friends are playing basketball at possibly the ugliest court in the entire world when they know full well that it’s third period.

Chanyeol sighs, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. “Look, you’re class president. Mr. Lee’s gonna notice that you’re gone.”

“Who do you think sent me?” He freezes as soon as you say that, his eyes growing so wide you’re convinced they’re going to pop out of this head any second now. He almost runs to his other delinquent friends when you yank him back and try not to die of laughter. “I’m joking, Chanyeol.”

“What?”

“Mr. Lee didn’t send me. He didn’t even go to class today. It’s free cut.”

Chanyeol still doesn’t look convinced, narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re serious?” You nod sincerely. “If you’re messing with me I’m gonna stick gum on your desk after the detention I get for cutting class.”

“That’s a disgusting threat. Lame, but disgusting.”

“You know you’re still holding my wrist, right?”

Your eyes travel down your hand clasped around his wrist, immediately letting it go when you realize that Chanyeol’s right. You pray that you don’t look as red as you feel right now.

Chanyeol chuckles for reasons you have no interest in finding out and sits next to you on one of the stone benches that surround the old basketball court. The place is older than any of you were; it’s been here since before your brother graduated, and even that was eight years ago.

It’s been bugging you for a while now why school administrators won’t just destroy the court and turn it into something else useful, maybe a football field or something, since the court only takes up a small portion of the field at the heart of campus.

Sehun argued before that maybe it has sentimental value to the students, which is why the administration never so much considered removing the basketball court, but you doubt that. What kind of memories would be tied to this place aside from memories of teenage boys doing stupid-looking drives to the hoop and being horrible at ball handling?

“You play?” Chanyeol asks, breaking your train of thought.

“Are you inviting me to play or are you just asking?”

Chanyeol chuckles and softly shakes his head. Lines form beside his eyes when he laughs, you’ve noticed. It’s cute; it means he smiles so much. “I’m just asking, but I’m not assuming that you can’t play. I mean, girls can be good at basketball too.”

“Congratulations on not being sexist,” you comment, which makes Chanyeol laugh. You rest your palms on the space beside either of your hips, and your pinkie briefly grazes Chanyeol’s before you adjust it slightly away. You try to ignore the odd spark that you felt when your skin brushed against him. “I play a different kind of game,” you say.

“If I didn’t know that you played volleyball, I would’ve thought that was another way of saying you’re a serial killer or something.”

“Yeah,” you say, shutting your eyes in laughter. “But I know how basketball works. My dad’s a huge Gin Kings fan, and my mom used to play back in her day. They kinda rubbed off on me.”

“That’s cool,” Chanyeol nods, but he doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Perhaps you’re still a bit sexist, after all,” you raise your brows at him. “I understand, though. Sophomore boys have the mental capacity of a goldfish. Boys in general, actually. Wait, that might be a little insulting to goldfish as a species.”

Chanyeol raises his hands in front of him, gesturing that he doesn’t mean any offense. “I just said that it’s cool. What’s sexist about that?”

“You don’t seem to be buying it.”

“Well…”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Quiz me, then,” you challenge.

And so you spend the afternoon sitting beside Chanyeol, talking about what constitutes a flagrant foul and who are currently in the Gin Kings’ roster and whatnot with the cold November breeze stinging your cheeks and turning your skin pink. The conversation goes from basketball to all sorts of things, and you realize that Chanyeol is more than just the goofy kid in class who also happens to be your seatmate.

The two of you stay even when Baekhyun and Jongdae and the other guys have finished playing, and the next thing you know, you begin to spend every afternoon with Chanyeol on the very same bench, talking about anything that can be talked about.

Most of the time you still talk about basketball, but somewhere in between you’ve learned about each other’s first loves, each other’s pet peeves, each other’s favorite horror movies. When your pinkies brush against each other, you don’t feel the need to move it away anymore, letting the spark from the contact linger in the air like a question that doesn’t need to be answered out loud.

Well, maybe not yet.

Sehun was right—this old basketball court did have sentimental value to the students. You just didn’t have any memories tied to it… until Chanyeol.

  Present Day

Baekhyun returns a few minutes later with another familiar face, the last person to complete their golden trio when they were in high school.

Kim Jongdae smiles from ear to ear as he makes his way to the table where you and Chanyeol are sitting, and he doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he’s thinking about. Jongdae’s playfulness is more subtle than Baekhyun’s, but it’s there. If anything, the fact that he’s not upfront about his teasing is what makes it more effective.

“Yeol, long time no see,” Jongdae greets Chanyeol first and then nods at you. “It feels so weird being with all of you right now… It’s like I’ve time-traveled to ten years ago. What have you all been up to since high school?”

That’s the question of the night, isn’t it?

Baekhyun’s the only one you know a lot about. He and Sehun went to the same college, and their campus was practically just a stone’s throw away from yours, so that would naturally mean that you saw him around.

On the contrary, Jongdae’s been difficult to keep track of. For some weird reason, he doesn’t have any social media accounts, so you don’t know anything about him other than the fact that he went to State U. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already married or something without you knowing. It’s nothing personal, really—Jongdae was a good friend in high school, but some friends inevitably lose in touch with each other as they grow older and, in turn, busier. That’s just how life is.

“Hey, Dae,” you call him, “What happened to you after high school? I know about State U, but that’s about the extent of my post-high school knowledge about you.”

Baekhyun scoffs, rolling his eyes at Jongdae. “You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was to get a hold of this guy when he entered that damn university.” Jongdae starts to protest, but Baekhyun’s mouth overpowers him. “Whenever we would ask him to go out, he would say he was busy with school and shit. I mean, I get it, he’s always been like that ever since, but to see your best friend only, like, once every three months? I have to admit, I was offended.”

“It’s not like that, Baek—”

Chanyeol butts in even before Jongdae could finish defending himself, “And on the days he would agree to go out with us, he was always the first to go home,” he laughs. “Must’ve been boring, not having much of a life outside of school.”

Jongdae opens his mouth to say something again, but Baekhyun cuts him off again. “At least he graduated with Latin honors, didn’t he? Graduated with a 3.9, practically unheard of. Was it worth it, though? Trading your friends for the highest damn GPA of all time?”

At this point all Jongdae could do is sigh. “Yes, Baekhyun, it was worth it. Having good credentials on my résumé is better than having you two assholes as friends.”

You laugh at the trio’s bickering, realizing that you’ve missed witnessing this in person. It’s like the years are melting away from everyone’s faces—as if you aren’t adults in your mid to late twenties but stupid teenagers teasing each other. It’s refreshing, you must admit, how everything about this conversation feels natural, even with Chanyeol in the mix.

“What are you laughing at?” Jongdae suddenly turns his attention to you in the midst of his petty squabble with Baekhyun and Chanyeol. “You weren’t easy to get in touch with either, you know. I have no idea what happened to you after you and Chanyeol bro—”

The sound of silverware clinking against glass shushes the reception before Jongdae could finish his sentence and you couldn’t be any more thankful for it. Kyungsoo’s the one making the sound as he stands up from the bride and groom’s table, thanking everyone for being present in what could possibly be the most important day of their lives.

As you clap for Kyungsoo’s speech, you feel a pair of eyes lingering on you. Chanyeol. The smile he was sporting just seconds ago is now gone, an unreadable expression now replacing it on his lips. At first, he seems to be just looking at you, but you soon realize that his eyes are trained on your neck.

Slowly, his clapping comes to a stop and his eyes flicker to yours.You know what he was just looking at.

“And now I would like to call on one of my closest friends. He’s one of the few people that made college and life in general bearable. I don’t know where I would be without him,” Kyungsoo announces from the high table. “He arrived late, but he told me that he would make up for it by singing a song to me and my wife. Park Chanyeol, come on up here.”

The crowd’s applause snaps Chanyeol back into reality, and he tears his eyes away from the object around your neck. He makes his way onto the small stage just beside the bride and groom’s table and sits on the stool perched on the platform. A staff brings him a guitar.

He clears his throat before speaking into the mic, “Good evening, everyone. I… I haven’t played or sung this song for quite some time now, so please bear with me if I kinda suck.” Soft laughter fills the gazebo. “Kyungsoo practically held me at gunpoint just so I would sing this song, but I’m more than happy to sing this in front of all of you for our newly-weds. Let’s give them a big hand!”

When the claps slowly dies down, Chanyeol starts strumming on the guitar. All it takes is the first few chords for your heart to stop beating and for your mind to travel back to when you first heard Chanyeol sing this song.

  December 2005

Chanyeol’s room is not at all what you initially expected. You expected it to be like your brother’s: messy and chaotic, with all sorts of stuff scattered everywhere, practically a pig-sty rather than a bedroom. Instead, you find yourself gaping at Chnayeol’s spotless room; everything is arranged neatly, from his bed to his desk. Hell, your room’s even messier than his.

“Are you sure this is your room?” You ask as you enter. “This is not how a sixteen year old boy’s room should look like.”

Chanyeol laughs as he sets his backpack on his desk chair. “Not all boys are disgusting, you know. There are boys who like to keep their room clean. Exhibit A,” he says, pointing to himself.

“He has to keep his room clean or else his sister’s gonna smack him in the head,” Baekhyun chides from behind you, carrying a large bag of barbecue-flavored potato chips in one hand and a pack of root beer in the other. “It’s not like he’s keeping it clean because he actually wants to.”

Heeyeon snorts as she takes a seat on a bean bag in the corner of the room. Baekhyun tosses her the bag of chips and she catches it without fault, ripping the bag open and popping chips into her mouth. You highly doubt that the rest of you will be left with some of it to munch on while working on your group paper.

“This is why no one likes you, Baek,” Chanyeol says. “You talk too much.”

“We like him,” Heeyeon counters, and you nod to prove her point. “But I agree with the last part.”

Baekhyun shouts triumphantly, “Ha! See? Everyone loves Byun Baekhyun.”

“Yeah, everyone but Taeyeon.”

You laugh at Chanyeol’s comment while Heeyeon chokes on the potato chips she’s chewing, and the look of genuine hurt on Baekhyun’s face makes everything a hundred times funnier. Baekhyun doesn’t say anything after that, and Chanyeol’s lips curl into a smug smile, knowing that he won this round.

“Whatever,” Baekhyun says petulantly as he sets the pack of root beer onto Chanyeol’s bed. “Door open or closed?”

Chanyeol replies, “Closed. Yoora almost fainted when I told her that two girls were spending the night here. She’d definitely kill me if she sees my door closed. You’d have to search the river for my body.”

Baekhyun shrugs and then slumps on the floor beside Heeyeon. When he brings out his PSP from his bag, you know he’ll be of no help tonight. Sometimes you still ask yourself why you’re still friends with him.

You curiously look around Chanyeol’s room and try to find the few missing puzzle pieces about him, knowing that there’s no place better to search than the room where spends most of his time and possibly grew up in.

There’s a small shelf with glass covers that houses action figures of all kinds and sizes—you recognize some from animes, some from comics, and some you don’t recognize at all. Nerd. On a part of the wall just above his study desk, the Jolly Roger of the Straw Hat Pirates from One Piece hangs proudly. Super nerd.

You giggle when you catch sight of Rilakkuma plushies on the far side of his bed, wondering how you missed them when you first entered his room. Cute. Your eyes shift to his bedside table, where a baby picture of him squatting on the ground is framed. He was a chubby kid, you notice. He’s a lot thinner now, but his ears still stick out now just as they do in the picture. Super cute.

“Snooping around someone else’s room is rude. You know that, right?”

“I’m not snooping,” you say defensively. “I was just… looking around.”

Chanyeol flops onto his bed unceremoniously. His plushies almost falls to the floor. Poor Rilakkumas. “Well, I consider that snooping. Stop looking at my stuff and judging me.”

“I’m not judging,” you laugh as you sit down on the other side of the bed. You grab your laptop from your backpack and start it up before everyone else forgets why you’re all here in Chanyeol’s house in the first place. “I just didn’t know you were a nerd. And that you’re into stuffed animals. You truly learn something new everyday.”

“You say you’re not judging but your words are so… judgy.”

“Is that a word?”

Baekhyun yawns loudly, interrupting the conversation. “If the two of you are done flirting now, can you pass me a root beer? And yes, judgy is a word.”

The atmosphere changes after that. Chanyeol wordlessly hands Baekhyun a can, his neck and ears visibly flushing redder and redder. You know that this happens to him when he’s embarrassed, anxious, or both. Is he flustered because of what Baekhyun said?

The minutes that follow are spent in awkward silence with only the sound of keyboards clicking and Baekhyun’s tapping on his game console filling the air. You steal a quick glance at Chanyeol, who’s also typing away on his laptop. He’s not flushed anymore, but his body language is still so stiff, like he’s extra cautious about his actions.

“Baek, do you have any plans to help out or is our group paper disturbing you in your very important Tekken game?” Chanyeol sarcastically asks as he suddenly jerks his head in your direction, making you jump in your seat and quickly turn your eyes away from him.

Baekhyun doesn’t take his thumbs or eyes off his game. A few overly-enthusiastic smashes on the buttons later, he says, “Yeah, yeah. What can I do?”

“You can stop playing with that damn thing, for a start,” you say. “We need more references. Try T&F and Sage and see what you can find. And wake Heeyeon up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Baekhyun replies and finally puts away his game console. He shakes Heeyeon awake from her short-lived nap on Chanyeol’s bean bag, and the two of them begin to work on your group paper that they should have been helping with in the first place.

At around 11 p.m., the only thing left to do with the paper is to proofread it, and proofreading is assigned to you. You let the others do whatever they want for the rest of the night: Heeyeon falls asleep in a blink of an eye, Baekhyun returns to his game but follows Heeyeon’s steps not long after, and Chanyeol is softly playing his guitar.

“You’re quiet,” Chanyeol says when he notices you looking at him.

You shrug. “I’m always quiet when I’m busy doing something.”

Chanyeol doesn’t take his eyes and fingers off of the guitar. You know that he’s an amazing guitarist, but right now he’s playing sloppily, just barely making an effort to actually hold the chords down on the guitar’s neck. You recognize the tune, though.

“No you aren’t,” he says after a while. His eyes flicker to yours briefly, and the look in them tells you that something’s bothering him. “You talk from time to time even when you’re busy with something, but you’ve been quiet for most of the night. It feels weird.”

“Well…” You begin to say, scratching at the back of your neck while you choose your words. “Well, you’ve been quiet for most of the night, too,” you counter. Defense is the best offense.

Chanyeol sighs and stops strumming his guitar for a second. “I was just thinking… about… you know, what Baekhyun said earlier.”

Your heart catches fire at that, but you try your best to keep a straight face and look indifferent. “Which one? Baekhyun says a lot of things. It’s hard to keep track of what comes out of his mouth.”

Chanyeol looks over your shoulder to where Baekhyun and Heeyeon are sleeping. You and Heeyeon are supposed to take the bed, but since she’s already comfortable on the bean bag, perhaps it’s not a good idea to wake her. She gets really cranky when her sleep gets interrupted.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun is drooling on Chanyeol’s carpet. He’s lying stomach-down on the floor without even bothering to set up the comforters Chanyeol prepared for the two of them.

“Say what you want to say,” you tell Chanyeol when you realize that he’s checking whether Baekhyun and Heeyeon are awake. “Those two aren’t gonna wake up any time soon. They’re sleeping like logs. Their snores are even louder than your guitar.”

Chanyeol nods, but resumes softly playing his guitar for good measure. The tips of his ears are burning red, you notice, and his strumming becomes more and more careless by each second.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows thickly. “I know we haven’t known each other for a long time,” he begins shakily, “but I’ve been thinking…” He trails off again. “God, why is this so hard?”

“We’ve known each other for a while now, actually. Since freshman year,” you point out, chuckling. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I knew that,” Chanyeol pouts. “What I mean is that we’ve only been, like, friends recently… A-and… Fuck,” he gives up. He reaches for something behind him, a small velvet jewelry box that looks so tiny compared to his large hands.

His fingers tremble, and when your hand brushes against him when you take the box away from him, his skin is cold.

You gingerly snap open the box, and a silver necklace rests inside. The charm glistens even in the dim lighting of Chanyeol’s room—a star embedded with small crystals. A warmth spreads across your chest and settles in the pit of your stomach. You softly trace the charm with the tip of your index finger as you wonder how something so small and simple could be so beautiful.

“I was supposed to give that to you on your birthday,” Chanyeol says. He’s still strumming away on his guitar. He continues, “But I didn’t know how to. I was overthinking the whole thing, like what should I say, what should I do. Should I act cool? What should I tell her? I was so scared.”

You smile, “It’s just a gift, Chanyeol.”

“But that’s the thing. It’s not just a gift. It’s not just a necklace.”

“Then what is it?”

Chanyeol exhales deeply and stops playing, setting the guitar on his lap. “I like you,” he blurts out. “As in, you know. That kind of like. Jesus, this is embarrassing. You’re gonna think that I’m crazy for liking you way too soon and now you’re gonna get mad and everything’s gonna be awkward and I’m gonna beat myself up for—”

“You’re rambling,” you say.

He covers his face with his palms and shakes his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s okay if you hate me now or something but please—”

“I like you too,” you admit, cutting his rambling once again. “I thought it would be obvious by now.”

Chanyeol blinks rapidly. “What did you just say?”

Laughing, you shut down your laptop and place it back inside your backpack. “You have the biggest ears in this world, I think you heard me just fine,” you say. “Thank you for your late birthday present, Chanyeol. It’s beautiful. I’ll wear it everyday.”

You lay down on the bed and roll over to your side so that your back is now facing Chanyeol. You whisper good night, but really, you just don’t want him to see you smiling like a fool. You’re definitely not sleeping tonight.

But your consciousness drifts off eventually while Chanyeol plays on his guitar some more. The melody and his singing are barely audible by how soft he’s playing, but you recognize the song anyway.

“‘Cause it’s you and me And all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to lose And it’s you and me And all the other people And I don’t know why I can’t keep my eyes off of you…”

The last thing that you hear before sleep wins you over is Chanyeol giddily whispering, “She likes me too.”

  Present Day

Chanyeol doesn’t take his eyes off of you throughout the whole song.

Your stomach churns as he sings while looking directly at you, and no matter how many times you avert your gaze, his eyes are still locked on you when yours travel back to him. And because of that, you know that he knows what this song means to either of you, something that you thought he would’ve forgotten.

You slowly get up from your seat and quietly make your way out of the reception. Baekhyun asks what’s wrong with a worried tone, but you assure him that you just need fresh air. He lets you go after that, though his frown doesn’t leave his lips.

For some reason, the sea breeze is colder and harsher outside of the open pavillion. You shiver as a strong gust of wind blows by, crossing your arms across your chest and rubbing your palms against your skin in an attempt to feel warmer through the friction.

You look up at the night sky once you reach the smoking area a short walk away from the reception. The moon is bright and full as it hangs low in the heavens with a myriad of stars surrounding it. You can’t remember the last time you saw the night sky like this because the lights in the city drown everything else out.

It’s beautiful, but at the same time you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest because the twinkling stars remind you of the necklace Chanyeol gave you, the one that started everything, the one you’re wearing now, the one that Chanyeol saw before he went onstage and sang that damn song. It suddenly feels like a hundred tons on your neck.

You said you’d wear it everyday, and you kept your promise. You always keep your promises, no matter when and to whom you made them.

Perhaps you should’ve left it at home and wore something else just this once, but you always had a hard time breaking habits. The silver necklace has been part of your day-to-day life for nearly three years, and it’s never easy to let go of something that has been with you for that long. Just like how hard it was to let go of Chanyeol.

But wearing the necklace really is more out of habit than of sentimentality. Sure, for the first few years after the breakup it was more of the latter, but as time went by you realized that it has become muscle memory—something your body has gotten used to, that’s it.

Come to think of it, you never really associate it with Chanyeol anymore when you wear it. It is what it is: just something that was given to you as a gift. But the look on Chanyeol’s face when he saw it around your neck earlier changes everything; it brings back all the questions that are still yet to be given an answer for all these years. It brings back everything.

You fish for your cigarette pack in your clutch bag and light yourself a stick, letting all your frustrations out together with the smoke. Instantly, you feel somewhat warmer. Smoking is another habit—a terrible one, at that—that you also have a hard time breaking away from.

Footsteps fill the still air when you’re halfway through your first cigarette. You look to where the sound is coming from and see Baekhyun walking towards you, his hands inside his pockets.

“I don’t think cigarette smoke counts as fresh air,” he says.

You take a long drag before replying, blowing the smoke away from where Baekhyun is standing because you know he doesn’t like the smell even if he never says anything about it. “You see, Baek, when people say they need fresh air, they mean they want to be alone.”

“I know,” Baekhyun shrugs, kicking at the sand underneath his feet. “I also know that wasn’t what you meant. I think you need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you.”

Baekhyun laughs, but it sounds different. Empty. “I wasn’t talking about myself,” he clarifies. He looks at you before looking upward at the sky, and you catch an odd sadness swimming in his eyes. “You should talk to Chanyeol.”

Your cigarette is almost burned out, just enough for one more puff. You inhale the remains and toss the butt at the receptacle once you’re finished. “We don’t have anything to talk about either,” you say, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“That’s bullshit,” Baekhyun says, and you’re taken aback by his choice of words. “I think the two of you have plenty to talk about.”

The cold creeps back into your bones at Baekhyun’s last sentence, because you know deep in your heart that it’s true. You shiver, and Baekhyun must’ve seen it because he wordlessly takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to say to him,” you admit, wrapping the coat tighter around your body. “What happened between the two of us… That happened so long ago. I’m not sure if any of that matters anymore.”

“It matters,” Baekhyun assures. “I can see it in Chanyeol’s eyes. I think he has a lot to say, but he’s not sure how to get there and how to say it. Maybe he’s not sure either whether any of it is worth talking about anymore, but I don’t think he’d be staring at you while singing if none of it matters anymore to him.”

Your hands instinctively fly up to the charm hanging on your neck, your fingers brushing against the studded star.

Baekhyun’s eyes notice your movement. Smiling, he says, “I don’t know the story behind that necklace and that old ass song he was singing, but I’m pretty sure that it has something to do with the two of you. Both of you wouldn’t be so weird about it if it didn’t matter, so I think that’s a good enough sign that the two of you should talk it over.”

“I thought Chanyeol told you everything.”

“He did, for most things,” Baekhyun nods, “but he didn’t say much about your relationship, even after you broke up. I thought that was a pretty cool thing for him to do, keeping whatever happened between just the two of you. I think he didn’t want any of us to take sides, knowing that you’re friends with us too, so he said nothing.”

Tonight’s the first time you’ve heard about that. You always assumed Baekhyun and Jongdae knew what had happened since they’re Chanyeol’s closest friends. In your case, Sehun’s always the first to know everything.

But then again, Chanyeol has always been a very private person. He shows his emotions well, but he never talks about them outright.

“He really told you nothing? About us?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “I didn’t even know it until months later,” he says. “I asked him about you, and all he said was that you weren’t together anymore. A few weeks later I saw him posting about some other girl online. I didn’t want to ask, but Jongdae brought it up while we were having coffee one time and Chanyeol told us about her.”

Your chest tightens because you remember the day you saw that post so vividly. You were eating lunch with Sehun when he suddenly froze while scrolling on his phone. Eyes wide, he silently handed you his phone and tears began to fall from your eyes the moment they landed on the photo of Chanyeol with his arms around a girl, captioned with nothing but a heart. Sehun had to take you home and skip the rest of his classes because you were so out of it. It was one of the worst days of your life.

“Why didn’t you want to ask more about it?”

Baekhyun answers without hesitation, “Because I knew that whatever Chanyeol says, I’ll be pissed about it. So I never asked how the two of you broke up, how he met Chaeyoung, all that.”

You reach for another cigarette from your pack. Hearing that name—Chaeyoung—still sends your stomach roiling, and it will probably stay that way forever.

“I thought you’d understand Chanyeol, no matter what he said,” you say after lighting the stick. A stray ember of the cigarette ash falls on your arm and scalds you before dying out as soon as it touches your skin. “He’s your best friend.”

“That’s true,” Baekhyun says. “But we don’t always agree with or understand our best friends, do we? Besides, I didn’t want to take sides either. But I have to admit, Chanyeol being with Chaeyoung in just a short time after the two of you broke didn’t look good at all. I bet Sehun hates him.”

“He did,” you say, nodding as you laugh. “For quite some time. When I moved on, I guess he did too.”

“Have you really moved on, though? Do you think Chanyeol has moved on?”

Before you could say anything, a tall figure emerges from the path where Baekhyun came from. You can recognize those ears anywhere.

“Am I… interrupting something?” He asks.

Baekhyun laughs, shaking his head. “Nope. She’s all yours. I’ll head back to the reception now. The two of you can continue catching up.”

“Baek, wait,” you call out as Baekhyun begins walking back to the pavillion. He stops in his tracks and turns around. “Your coat.”

“You can return that to me tomorrow morning,” he replies. “I have a feeling that you’re still gonna need that. Tonight’s gonna be a long night.”

Read the rest of the chapters on Asianfanfics (AFF).

Friendly reminder that mature words are censored when you’re reading as a guest on AFF, so make sure to log into your AFF account and turn off the content filter to read the chapters without censors.

#exowritersnet #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fic #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol smut #chanyeol au #chanyeol series #exo x reader #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo smut #exo au #exo series

[teencorpse]

Kiss Bang

Rob Raco x Reader

song inspo: Kiss Bang - grandson

warnings: idk?? poorly written kissing?

summary: what happens when y/n decides to party with handsome strangers? 

a/n: OOF this was good until i realized idk how to kiss so soz if its hella cringey!!! thanks to @sweetsfuckingpea for inspiring me once again, and @imcgining for teaching me how to flirt!! oh also i made up friends names sorry if ur names rose or jessie lmao

DISLCAIMER: THIS IS FICTION! PLEASE DONT PARTY OR ACCEPT DRINKS WITH/FROM STRANGE MEN OR WOMEN YOU JUST MET THANK U THIS HAS BEEN A PSA

(pics creds @sweetsfuckingpea <33)

You and you friends, Rose, and Jessie, had just returned to your hotel after a night of various fruity cocktails, random handsy men, and dimly lit clubs. You giggled walking down the hallway on the way to your next destination. You had heard rumors floating around about a rooftop party happening around twelve tonight, and you and your friends weren’t going to miss it.

As you bounded down the hallway, stumbling over your feet occasionally, you heard men laughing from around a corner. They sounded pretty drunk as they disregarded the current time, and probably sleeping guests. Their hoots and hollers became louder as they rounded the corner, coming face to face with you and your two friends. There were three of them in total, and looked fairly intoxicated. Their cheeks were flushed, hair disheveled, and one was left without a shirt. They seemed to slow down in pace when they noticed the three of you. The one in the middle, without a shirt, ran a hand through his jet black hair. He wasn’t very smooth when he very obviously looked you up and down. Your friends started whispering to each other about the men in front of you, unsure of how to approach the situation. The hallway was tight, so there wasn’t much of a chance of getting past them easily.

“Wait, do we know where we’re going?” Rose asked, referring to the party.

“The roof?” You responded jokingly.

“No shit Sherlock, how do we get to the roof?” Jessie added. Now that she mentioned it, you weren’t given much direction on where to go. Your plan was to just make it to the tallest floor and figure it out from there.

“You ladies looking for the roof party?” One of the men suddenly joined in. It was the one in the middle.

You chuckled at first, wondering why he felt the need to interject. “We might be” You added, raising an eyebrow.

“Well if you are, I suggest avoiding it. It’s all old guys talking about stocks and shit” He laughed with his buddies.

“You sure seemed to have enjoyed yourself” You noted, earning some giggles from your friends.

“What can I say, I like to have fun” He smirked, looking you up and down again.

“If you ladies are interested, we’re having a small get together with some friends in about a hour” One of the other guys said, shrugging his shoulders.

You and your friends silently debated his offer, not sure whether you should risk partying with complete strangers.

“Think about it. Room’s 906” The shirtless one added, looking only at you. You smirked, and with that, you, Rose, and Jessie pushed passed the group of men, towards your original plans.

“This sucks” Rose said as she stirred her drink. You three were seated at the open bar on the roof, watching old men chat and talk about how much they hated their wives. Slow jazz was playing on the speakers, and you three were poorly dressed for this type of gathering. Although many men had come up to you asking to pay for your beverages, the rings on their fingers and wrinkles under their eyes left nothing to be desired.

“Okay what if we went to those guys party? They seemed nice…” Jessie added from the other side of you.

“I don’t know… they look like trouble” You said.

“Oh please. You really think I’m going to let you pass up Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome?” She giggled.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, hiding your blush behind your drink.

“Leather Jacket couldn’t take his eyes off you. I’m thankful I couldn’t hear his thoughts.” Rose mumbled. You couldn’t help but think of him again. His piercing blue eyes. The only thing on his upper half being a leather jacket, and his pants slowly becoming unbuttoned. Must’ve had a lot of fun.

“Okay fine, we’ll drop in, grab a drink, and dip,” You said “I’m not getting murdered because of a pair of big googly eyes” You ended, already jumping off the bar stool. Your friends giggled in excitement, following suit.

By the time you had reached room 906, you could already hearing the music blasting through the walls. Small amounts of some kind of smoke emitted from under the door. You knocked, thinking it wouldn’t do much seeing as how loud the music was. To yours and you friends surprise, the door opened, revealing the familiar blue eyes. With a cigarette hanging from his mouth, he smirked and moved to the side, welcoming you in. The room was dark, and there were people everywhere. How they managed to attain the penthouse suite was a mystery to you. You turned around to make sure your friends were still close, only to reveal that they had been swept up by the other two hallway men. Rose was leaning with her back against the door, twirling a piece of her hair while her prince charming was resting his arm right next to her head. Jessie was already feeling on the other guys bicep, her signature move. You chuckled and turned back to Blue Eyes and asked, “So you gonna get a girl a drink or what?”

You two pushed your way into the small kitchen while he scavenged for a bottle that wasn’t completely empty.

“Rob” He said randomly as he poured you a glass of alcohol.

“Excuse me?” You asked, leaning in to hear him better.

“My name’s Rob” He said louder, focusing on a steady pour. You nodded your head in understanding, finally attaching a name to the very fit man next to you.

“y/n” You responded with a small smile. He offered you the drink, taking a small step closer. You grabbed the drink from his had and took a small sip. He sipped on a drink he already had prepared, never taking his eyes of you.

“Hey I’ve got a question for you, y/n” He said with a sly grin.

“And what is that?” You asked furrowing your eyebrows.

“It’s more like a game,” He started and continued when he saw the intrigued look on your face. “It’s called ‘What are the Odds’. I ask you a question that requires an action and then we both say a number between one and ten, and if we say the same number then we have to do that action. Kind of like ‘Dare or Dare’, but more interesting” He said, resting a hand on the counter next to your hip.

“Okay Rob, I’m in” You laughed, feeling the effects of the alcohol.

He leaned in closer, inches from your face. His eyes shifted from your own to you lips, then back up. He smirked before asking, “What are the odds you’re gonna kiss me tonight?” He licked his bottom lip and smiled at the look in your eyes. You were shocked at first, then excited. Sure it was a shitty pick up line, but coming from this handsome stranger, you didn’t mind one bit.

You giggled a little before you set your drink down, and rested one of your hands on Rob’s shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “But I just met you Robbie” You teased.

His hand that was previously on the counter now shifted to your hip as he slightly tugged, and pulled you closer to him. You two were almost chest to chest, a piece of paper could barely fit between you two. His other hand went to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, causing your stomach to erupt with butterflies. His hand lingered on your cheek as it then fell down your neck. This whole time maintaining eye contact. The next move was his, and it was taking forever.

“Okay” He said with a shrug before he pulled back and slowly started to back up. It was now or never.

You took a step forward and threw you arms behind his neck and leaned up to connect your lips. You felt him smirk into it, before he gripped your hips, pulling you into him, so you were flush against his chest. One of his hands moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. It was needy, and surprisingly passionate. After knowing the man for less than an hour, the kiss that resulted from it was a rough and desperate one. His hands roamed from your neck to your hips, a little under your shirt, and your ass. It was a very rated R kiss. Suddenly, you heard loud banging from the hotel door followed by, “Police! Open, or we will be forced to break the door!” Causing you to pull away quickly.

“We’ll finish this later Princess” Rob said with a wink, before kissing you again quickly, and disappearing within the crowd.

#rob raco #rob raco imagines #rob raco imagine #rob raco headcanon #rob raco blurb #sweetsfuckingpea #rlverhale #rlverhale's masterlist

[kingfallshistoricallibrary-blog]

Episode Eight: Electrolocaust Now

[KFAM music]

Sam: Good evening King Falls, you’re listening to 660 on the radio dial, and I’ve gotta tell you, we’ve got a  heck of a show this evening. We’re paying tribute to King Falls musical legend and Ben's old boss, jazz meistro Chet Sebastian. We’ll be discussing 40 years of-*static, sound of things powering down*

B: What the hell?

S: What’d I touch?

B: I don’t think it was you.

S: Sorry ladies and gents, it seems we’re having a slight technical difficulty here. Um, yeah, hey my computer’s down Ben.

B: Mine too. Sammy, I dunno if they can even hear us. We might be out out.

S: Well okay then, uh, we’re live and we’re winging it folks.

B: Au contraire my friend. You should know I’ve got a backup plan, and a backup for the backup plan.

S: Uh huh.

B: Let me just pull out the trusty smartphone aaaaand…

S: And?

B: It’s off.

S: Well, good thing you’ve got a backup for this.

B: It’s...an expression. We’re flying blind, Sammy. Check your phone.

S: It is off, uh, lemme guess, the ghost, sorry, apparition,-

B: Thank you.

S: Of Marconi just visited the station just decided to start yanking wires.

B: Maybe Merv forgot to pay the electric bill.

S: The lights, the mics, it’s not electricity, this is selective. But, y’know, thanks for being so cheap and old, Merv. It may have spared 660 from the wrath of skynet.

B: Yeah, the board’s lit up, and so are the phones, I don’t get it.

S: King Falls, have you gotten whacked by this random and seemingly mischievous power outage? You’ve heard our story, let’s hear uh, wait can they hear us?

B: Good call.

S: I don’t understand why some of this stuff is working, and some of it is out. What’re we doing, Ben?

*quiet buzzing in the background*

S: Now’s not the time to go rogue.

B: Radio’s are working, Sammy. We’re live

S: Well, you’re hearing our story right now King Falls, let's hear yours. If you’ve got a phone that’s working, give us a call or tweet us @kingfallsam.

B: Can’t check the twitter.

S: Dammit. *sigh* Let's take a call, Ben.

B: But, the schedule?

S: Dude, what schedule? The one locked in the computer that’s zoinked out, or the one that’s locked in our iphone that won’t power up?

B: Damn your logic. Line 1!

S: You’re live on the air with Sammy and Ben, hope you’re well on this weird ass evening.

?: Hey Shotgun!

S: Hey man. What’s your name again?

?: Not important, I just wanted to check in with my favorite AM radio host, and tell you you’re coming in loud and clear on my end. Loud and clear! Heheh. Am I on the air?

B: You’re live, sir.

S: So how’re things in your neck of the woods? Any technology issues, things not powering up and on for you?

?: Not a problem in the world, Shotgun. Heheh.

B: Is he going to keep calling you-

?: Shotguuuuuuuuuuun Sammyyyyyyy.

S: *Sigh*. Was there anything in particular you needed?

?: That’s it. Love the show. Shotgun Sammyyyyyy!

*hangup noise*

B: What did you do in your past life, Sammy?

S: You don’t even wanna know.

B: *sigh* Line seven, good evening you’re on King Falls AM.

Doyle: Hey Ben, hey Sammy, you dudes doing okay up there?

S: All things considered we’re doing well, and who’re we speaking with?

D: *stoned sounding laughter* Oh, this is Doyle. Doyle Bevins, out in Hollybrook Estates.

B: Hey Doyle, you having any issues with your computers, smartphone, what have you?

D: Oh yeah, about five minutes ago all my toys just shut off. TV, ‘puter, phone, sounded like a transformer just shut down.

S: Oh! So you had a transformer blow up by you? Could that have caused that way up here, Ben?

B: I-

D: Oh no, no, nothing like that. Like it was Bumblebee powering down, like uh kachuhuh, kachuhuhuh.

B: Oh. Right. Regardless, Hollybrook is a good five miles outside of town, I dunno if that would have hit us.

S: Doyle, thanks for calling in and letting us know what’s going on with you.

D: Oh, sure thing bro, but that’s not why I called.

B: Oh, uh, okay?

S: What’s on your mind tonight, Doyle?

D: Well, before all this new age funky junk started, I was having some really crazy stuff going on here in the apartment.

S: Crazy stuff, what kind of stuff?

D: Supernatural stuff.

B: I got nothing, I’ve never heard of anything going on in hollybrook.

D: *stoned laughter* It is insane, Ben. It’s like I'm living in some sort of cybertronian spacecraft.

S: Cybertronian? I'm not familiar, Ben?

B: It’s a transformers reference. It’s not real.

D: Hey. It’s real, Ben.

S: Can you give us an example?

B: Without referencing a Mike Bay movie.

D: Sure thing bro. So, I got this toaster, right?

B: Mmhm.

D: Sometimes, late at night, BOOM! It’ll pop up the scariest damn thing you ever laid eyes on.

S: So it makes the noise like when the bread is done?

D: Ghost toast boys. It pops, but ain't nothing there.

B: Doyle. *long pause* We’re gonna take another call.

D: Ohoho, not good enough for you Ben? Not spooky kooky enough, huh? I’ll do you one better.

B: You’d have to.

D: Sometimes, late at night, my fridge start making this scary humming noise, like hummmmmumumumum-

S: Doyle.

D: Humumum.

S: Doyle.

D: Hummumumum *clears throat, coughs*. Ahem. You get it.

S: Doyle. Are only experiencing this phenomena with your appliances?

D: Can, can I finish Sammy? Is that, is that cool? Can I finish?

S: I'm sorry, of course.

D: Alright. So like I said, it’s just a herming, so I sneak in the kitchen, all vatican assassin like, and I fling open the door, acrackachow! Ain't nothing happening boys. Mayo and mustard just looking to me like they wanna hop on a sandwich.

S: Alright, Doyle. We’re gonna take another call. Please be careful out there, with the appliances and such.

D: Hey, do you all want me to make you a video and send it? *scoff* Duh, maye the electronics are zapped so I can’t prove it, man? It’s a big old vicious circle, bros.

*hang up noise*

B: Dear god.

S: Take care, Doyle. Line 9 you’re on with Sammy and Ben.

?: Long time listener here. Second time caller.

*hangup noise*

S: Nope, not tonight. I don’t want that. Lets go ahead and take line-

B: *drawn out throat clearing noise*

S: Yes, Ben?

B: *sigh*, Uhhh, we, we uh, we need to play an ad, Sammy.

S: Play an ad? You know the computers are off, right?

B: Mmhm.

S: Don’t look at me like that. Don’t even think it.

B: God. *singing* When you’re hungry and you know it come to Rose’s.

S: No.

B: *still singing* If you’re starving and it’s showing come to Rose’s.

S: Ben, please.

B: *still singing* We’ve waffles and cranapples-

S: Ben!

B: I’m just trying to make sure the clients get their money’s worth.

S: I understand that, but you know there’s no better way to do that then talking about just how delicious Rose’s Diner can be. Personally, I'm one for the country breakfast. What do you get down there at Rose’s?

B: Uhm, well it’s a fact that you just can’t beat Rose’s fresh donuts.

S: And from what Troy’s told us, they make a mean bagel as well.

B: I’ve been going to Rose’s all my life. Never had a bad meal there, not one.

S: Y’know I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stopped by for a great meal and good conversation. So if you’re in the neighborhood, just passing through, or wanna feel at home away from home, stop by Rose’s Diner. Right off the interstate.

B: Exit 44.

S: There you go.

B: You’re good, and I'm hungry. Man I could go for the signature pancake puppies.

S: Whatever stops that singing.

B: Okay, please, I’ll, uh, I’ll have you know, Mr. Sheffield cast me as the lead in King Falls high school’s rendition of Grease

S: Alright Zuko, let’s take some calls. Good evening, you’re on with-

*static, feedback*

B: Tim!

S: Can you hear us, Tim?

*feedback fading*

Pete: Sorry, sorry, let me turn my radio down.

S: False alarm.

B: What do you want, Pete?

P: This isn’t Pete, my name is...Escobar. And I want to tell you that this is the absolute worst broadcast in the history of radio. You two oughta be ashamed.

S: We’re just trying to make the best of a bad situation, Pete.

P: Escobar.

B: I thought you weren’t ever listening to King Falls AM again, Pete?

P: I'm not listening...I'm assuming.

S: Well, you know what they say when you assume something, right Pete?

P: Esss-cooo-bariiita.

B: Don’t you have some mowing or clipping up to do up at Beauregard’s manor?

P: Racist! You know dang well no one goes up there after sundown. Ese.

B: So you admit your employer is a vampire. Hmm. Interesting.

P: I didn’t say, I didn’t, I didn’t say that. I just don’t wanna whack a weed that ain’t a weed. Ben, start living right. All that scary stuffs frying your brain.

S: Pete. Escobar. Do you have a reason for call-

P: Alright, pushy. Alright, you know what, I swear I ain't listening to you ever again, you browbeating ruffians. Nunca, nunca I tell you.

*hang up noise*

S: It’s gonna be a long night.

*sound of equipment powering down*

B: Look at the phone lines, we dropped all the calls. Line one? Hello? *silence* You’re on with King Falls? Nothing. We can’t fill four hours like this, Sammy.

S: I’ve got an idea. Give me your keys, Ben.

*sound of Sammy getting up*

B: This can’t be good.

S: Be right back.

B: Sammy. *moment of silence, followed by a door opening and closing* *singing* Stranded, at the drive in, branded a fool. *in normal voice* Yeah, I still got it. Okay folks, just, uh, lemme just check to see if our regular phones are working. Make a little call out. What’s this, a rotary phone? *dialing* Yeesh. *still dialing* *ringing*

Emily: Hello?

B: Hey Emily, it’s Ben. I hope I didn’t wake you?

E: Not at all, I'm listening. What’s going on with the show? And the electronics?

B: I know, right? I just wanna make sure you are, oh, uh, hey, we’re live by the way.

E: As live as can be, right?

B: Right. But yeah, I just wanted to make sure you were okay with all the weirdness happening tonight.

E: I'm fine. Thanks for thinking of me. Good thing I’ve got a landline, I guess.

B: If you didn’t, I would have had to come over to check.

E: Oh really? That’s an interesting thought.

B: Um. Yeah. Y’know. To make sure that you’re safe and sound. Like a gentleman.

E: Oh, of course.

B: Oh, uh, so, the other reason I called, um, in all your studies or research, do you ever recall any kind of electronic or, or, electromagnetic pulses here in the Falls?

E: Not to my knowledge. Obviously I’ll dig more into this later today at the library, but it’s new I think. Lucky us.

B: Lucky us.

*door opening and closing*

S: Alright, what’d I miss?

E: Hi Sammy!

S: Hi Emily. Hope you’re doing alright tonight.

B: Hey, I’ll call you later, okay?

E: Sounds like a plan.

B: Night! *hang up noise* Don’t look at me like that, Sammy.

S: I didn’t say a word. Crazy power outages and electrical malfunctions. Do you call your mom first? Your brother? Nope. you call your local librarian, Emily Potter.

B: So?

S: So it’s cute.

B: Whatever. What’re you up to over there?

S: Well, this is a record player borrowed from Mr. Chet Sebastian's office. This is not how we planned the evening, but, thank you Chet.

B: And?

S: Well, I figure since our fancy new high and mighty tech is out, that we’ll just have to bring back some old trusty reliable stuff to pass the time.

B: It’s a little telling that most of our broadcast equipment hasn’t gotten shut down.

S: Merv, take a note. Upgrade our WKRP radio shack so we can take a night off when everything goes belly up, huh?

B: Lemme mic that thing up.

S: Alright ladies and gents, you’re listening to King Falls AM, that’s 660 on the radio dial, with me as always my cohost Ben Arnold and this, this is a little Chet Sebastian jazz to help you through this weird ass night. Thanks for being a legend, sir.

*jazz music played on a record*

#king falls am #king falls spoilers #episode eight #episode 8 #chet sebastian #chet #electrolocaust #merv #line one #line 1 #line seven #line 7 #doyle #doyle bevins #line 9 #line nine #rose's diner #singing #troy #deputy troy #cecil sheffield #tim #tim jensen #pete #pete meyers #escobar #emily #emily potter #library

[fawndlymade]

Black Cats and Bad Luck

There was something about the holiday season that didn’t sit right with Blake, a feeling that bled through each and every holiday and left her feeling rather bitter while everyone else was cheery. As a faunus, one that had been with the White Fang for a number of years and who barely remembered her parents, any sort of festivity left her with a sense of loneliness that made her chest ache fiercely. When she had been with the Fang, there had been no time for holidays; every day had been a battle to survive, to find shelter, to fill their aching bellies…

Gift giving and carving turkeys hadn’t been high on their list of priorities.

If there was one day that Blake despised though, it was Halloween. Being a faunus was bad enough, but to be a cat faunus with black ears on Halloween was… It was not a fun time.

Her teammates didn’t understand. They thought she was being her introverted self, not wanting to participate in dressing up or going out to the Halloween party that Beacon was hosting for its students. Yellow eyes narrowed, pupils all but vanishing as Blake shifted back, away from her partner who was holding up a rather skimpy witch’s dress in one hand, a pointed black hat sitting atop her blonde hair.

“C'mon Blake, trick or treat~” Yang sang, wiggling her fingers in Blake’s direction. “You ditched out last year, you don’t get to do it again.”

“I don’t see why not,” Blake retorted, ears drawing flat and eyes shining with distaste. “I don’t want to go, simple as that.”

“Why not?” Weiss asked curiously from her spot on her bed where she was brushing her hair. Blake had been surprised the first year when the Schnee heiress of all people had deigned to participate in something as trivial as a Halloween dance, but from what she had understood of Weiss’ childhood, she was just making up for lost time.

She still found it ironic that Weiss was going as a princess this year. Complete with tiara.

“Yeah, why not?” Ruby echoed, voice muffled from the fake plastic fangs she had in her mouth. Her signature cape was wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair plastered back with enough gel it would have made Neptune proud. “It’s not the same if you don’t come.”

“Actually it will be the same seeing as I didn’t go last year. I’m not interested.” Figuring that to be the end of the discussion, Blake cracked her book back open, eyes lowering to the black font with exaggerated interest. Said book was quickly plucked from her hands, and Blake was hard pressed not to hiss in response, settling for an angry glare at her partner, who seemed none to pleased about the decision.

“You’re coming and that’s that, even if I have to carry you.” The frown on Yang’s face was neither cheerful nor playful. “You’re not just gonna mope around the room all night, it’s Halloween! Trick or treat, ding dong the witch is dead and all that jazz. They’re even doing a pumpkin carving contest.”

Blake cringed inwardly.

The sound of a throat clearing had both of them glancing over, the staring contest forgotten. Weiss was tapping her foot impatiently, arms crossed. “Forget it, Yang. You can’t force her to come if she doesn’t want to. We’re going to be late at this rate.”

Throwing her hands up in the air, Yang huffed out a ‘whatever’ and stormed out of the room, but not before giving Blake a dirty look. Weiss followed suit, giving Blake a small nod with Ruby trailing behind looking nearly identical to a kicked puppy.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Blake walked over and grabbed her book from where Yang had flung it, sinking back into her bed with the intention of finishing her book. Flipping back to the page she was at, she began to read.

Or tried to anyways.

Visions of Ruby’s hurt face, Weiss’ clear dismissal and Yang’s anger haunted her, making it hard to concentrate. Guilt pooled in her stomach, making her feel nauseous. It took another fifteen minutes of rereading the same line over and over again before she conceded the battle. With a weary sigh, she set her book down gently on the covers beside her.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t too hard to scrounge up a costume. Sifting though some clean white sheets, she managed to drape them across her body in such away that it looked almost regal, and after raiding both Yang’s and Weiss’ jewelry boxes, she had been rewarded with two thick golden bracelets, matching anklets, and a heavy bronze necklace. After a quick touch up to her makeup, her eyes were outlined with dark eyeliner, making the amber color stand out.

Perfect.

Blake stared at herself, frowning at the way her ears stood out. She was half tempted to hide them beneath her bow like the old days, but she hadn’t done that since the end of her first year at Beacon and wasn’t about to start again. Her school knew she was a faunus, and for the most part no one had cared except for people like CRDL.

Plus if her own team caught her binding her ears again, there would be hell to pay.

Resigned to what was inevitably going to happen, Blake slipped on a pair of rather fancy flat sandals that had straps criss-crossing all the way up her calf to just below her knee before making her way to the auditorium. The path there was devoid of life, something that Blake was grateful for. Even before she entered the building, she could hear the pounding of the music spilling out into the grounds, so once she pushed open the doors the sound nearly deafened her.

Her faunus ears flattened of their own volition, the beginnings of a headache starting. Still, there was no turning back. Blake moved through the crowd as if she were a ghost, nothing but a blur of white and gold as she slid past people with ease, eyes trained on a bright yellow mane and a blood red cloak. The three were taking a break from dancing, sitting around a table as they chatted.

It was Weiss that spotted her first, one eyebrow rising as their eyes met. The heiress smiled, saying something to Yang and Ruby before gesturing her way. The two sisters spun in unison, and Blake knew that she had made the right choice as Ruby’s eyes lit up and Yang broke out into a wide grin.

“You came!” Yang exclaimed as soon as Blake stopped in front of them. “And you look fantastic! I didn’t know you had a costume already!”

“I didn’t.” Blake was forced to nearly yell over the music. She held out her hands so that Yang could see the bracelets. “I just threw something together at the last minute, these are yours.”

“Well they look great on you!”

Turning to Ruby, she could see that the girl was practically vibrating with excitement over the fact that she was here. “The team is complete once more!” Ruby cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “C'mon, let’s go celebrate with punch and dancing!”

Despite the pounding in her skull, Blake nodded her head, and the next hour was filled with a whirlwind of dancing. All three of her friends were happy that she had joined them, as they proclaimed several times, and Blake was content to dance with each one of them as one song bled into the next. Finally once the latest song had ended, Blake withdrew from Weiss’s arms and gestured towards Ruby, where she and Yang were more wrestling then dancing. “I need to take a break for a few minutes and get some air, why don’t you join them?”

“Please,” Weiss sniffed, lips twitching as she restrained a smile. “Those dolts? I’m chaperoning more than I am dancing, so hurry back.”

Dipping her head in acknowledgment, Blake strode off, making a beeline for the door. The blast of fresh air was refreshing after having been in what felt like a sauna filled with sweaty teenagers, and Blake took great pleasure in leaning back against the cool wall. The headache had not gone away, and thanks to how loud the music was, there was a buzzing sound in her ears even now that she was outside.

She wondered how long she could stay out before her team began to worry that she had left them. Figuring she had a few minutes, she decided to take a quick stroll around the grounds to stretch her legs and enjoy the peaceful scenery before delving back into the mass of people once more.

It was only when a voice off to her right spoke that she realized just how far she had gotten from the dance. “Trick or treat, kitty cat. Nice costume.”

Blake turned her head; a group of men stood there, none of whom were native to Beacon as they were definitely past the age of even the oldest student. They were in their mid-twenties, and the looks on their faces disturbed her even more than the leers she was receiving. Even from where she was standing, Blake could smell the alcohol wafting off of them, making her nose sting.

Cruelty shone in their eyes, glittering with malice and free of inhibition thanks to the (no doubt) multiple drinks they had already had.

A flash of fear shot through her, eyes glancing backwards automatically to safety. She was a huntress-in-training at one of the best schools in all of Remnant, but without her weapon, without her teammates, and with old voices of the past haunting her, she was nothing more than a scared little girl again.

Inhaling sharply, Blake flashed them a quick smile before turning around, intent on making her way back to the dance.

She hadn’t made it more than two steps before a rough hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Stubble scratched at her cheek, and Blake was frozen to the spot as he spoke. “I said 'trick or treat’. You don’t just brush me off, girlie. I gave you a compliment.” The hand that wasn’t gripping her wrist moved upwards, and Blake let out a pained hiss as meaty fingers yanked on her ear, sending sparks of pain through the sensitive appendage.

His reaction was immediate; Blake was shoved away so quickly she nearly fell to the ground. “She’s one of them filthy mutts!”

Another man, taller and broader than the first (to the point that Blake wondered if he was on steroids) stepped forward, the look of loathing so apparent on his face that Blake flinched, ears pulling down towards her scalp. “Thought Beacon was too good for 'em mongrels.” Before she could stand up, he grabbed her arm and yanked her up, holding tight.

“Musta lowered their standards somethin’ fierce,” a third spoke. Shaggy hair, clean shaven, a rather handsome face that would have been attractive if his features weren’t so twisted with disgust. Blake took a step backwards, wishing that she had just stayed home. She should have known better.

A sickening grin came to Steroids-man. “You know what they say about black cats, dontcha, lads? Bad luck if ya cross one.”

Oh no.

“We don’t want no bad luck following us around,” Stubbles muttered, eyeing her. “I think we should get rid of her.”

No no no.

As the man’s hand reached up to cover her mouth, Blake did the only thing she could think of: opening her mouth wide, she bit down as hard as she could on his hand, breaking skin thanks to her sharp canines. He let out a yell of pain, yanking his hand away before backhanding her. Blake saw it coming, but let it hit her and push her away from him, using the momentum to scramble away.

Then she turned and fled.

Her footsteps echoed down the sidewalk as she ran, her breath coming out in panicked gasps. Behind her she could hear the hooting and hollering of the men, cries of “c'mere kitty cat’ and 'trick or treat, bitch!’ following her. Blood dripped into her eye from where a ring on the man’s hand had caught her.

So terrified was Blake that she didn’t even notice when she passed the auditorium, and three separate blurs of yellow, white, and red. She did, however, notice when she came to a dead end, having run to the point where the school and the auditorium met, leaving her with nowhere else to run. Panting hard, she rested her forehead on the wall and tried to force her tears back.

This wasn’t happening.

Not again.

A sharp sting to her side had her crying out, pain blossoming as the rock that hit her fell to the ground with a thud. “That was for my hand, you fucking bitch!” Another rock was thrown, but Blake had spun around, ducking so that it hit the bricks above her. The crack echoed through the small corridor.

Surrounded by walls on three sides and the men in front of her, Blake could only bare her teeth and snarl. If she had been thinking, if she had been smart, this would have been an easy fight. But she wasn’t thinking, fear having overruled any semblance of logic long ago.

“If we take her ears away, does this mean we get good luck?” one of the men asked aloud.

“I dunno bro, but why don’t we find out?”

It was only when a hand threatened to pull her ear off that she realized how close they had gotten. Letting out a cry of pain, Blake did her best to curl up and make herself a smaller target. She was certain her ear was going to rip off at any moment.

“Blake!”

Suddenly the hand on her ear was gone, and Blake no longer found herself pinned down. Gentle hands cupped her cheeks, and Blake could see silver eyes looking at her worriedly. Off to the side, Weiss was standing between her and the men, and Yang…

Yang looked every bit the furious witch, the air sparking before her and her eyes a murderous red. “What the fuck do you bastards think you’re doing to my partner?” she asked quietly.

“We’re gettin’ rid of the bad luck!” Shaggy hair answered, voice slurring.

“Bad luck?” Yang echoed.

“Yeah! Black cats 'nd Halloween, ya know?” Stubbles said, gesturing towards her. “Gotta get rid of 'em.”

Beside her she could hear Ruby gasp, the smaller girl trembling against Blake. It was probably the first time she had ever actually seen her leader so angry; Ruby was glaring at the three men, eyes hard and mouth set in a firm line.

Yang scowled, the glow around her casting shadows along the brick wall. “Wrong answer.”

Blake turned her head, unable to watch as the sound of skin hitting skin reached her ears, the scent of copper filling the air. It was only when Ruby let out a sharp “enough, Yang!” that it stopped, small groans of pain coming from the trio that were currently bleeding onto the concrete.

Crimson eyes met hers, and Blake fought to keep from dropping her gaze as Yang stared at her. Slowly, the red bled away until all that was left was lilac, albeit several shades darker than normal. “You’re bleeding,” Yang said roughly, her fingers touching Blake’s temple and coming away red. “Those fucking assholes. I oughta kick their ass some more.”

“That won’t help matters, Yang,” Weiss huffed. Kneeling down, she tore a strip from the bottom of her dress and dabbed it lightly against the wound, ignoring Blake’s soft protest about ruining her costume. “Please, Blake. Like I care about a silly dress at this moment. Just… Just let us help.”

“What’re you even doing here?” Blake croaked, eyes closing as Weiss wiped away the ruined mascara, taking caution not to get any in her eyes.

“We were worried,” Ruby murmured. Opening one eye halfway, Blake could see the small redhead wringing her hands, looking ready to cry. “You were gone for so long, we were wondering if you were okay, or if you had gone back to the dorm without telling us.”

“Oh…”

“Is that… Is that why you didn’t want to come out with us?” Ruby asked, voice quiet as if she was trying to keep from startling Blake. “What those guys said, about black cats and Halloween..”

Blake nodded slightly, trying to ignore the way her friends stared at her. Looking past them, she could see the unconscious forms of the men that had chased her. “It happens to lots of faunus, not just me, but if you’re a cat faunus then… it’s always worse. There are always people like them that think it’s a joke and try to.. Sacrifice us.”

Three gasps were heard in unison, and when Blake glanced back at her teammates, she was surprised to see just how horrified they looked. Weiss in particular seemed to have paled several shades, small hands balled into fists.

“Blake,” Yang said tentatively. “I-We didn’t know, I swear. I-”

“I know, Yang. It’s okay.” Blake gave her a weary smile. “I know you were just trying to get me to have fun, and I did until.. well… this.” She made to stand up, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Tilting her head up, she could see Ruby unfastening her cloak. “What’re you-”

“Your costume is kinda… coming undone,” Ruby said, cheeks turning pink. Blinking, Blake dropped her gaze and nearly died. While she had been running, the knots she had used to tie the sheets around herself had loosened, and one end of the cloth was now draped loosely down her side, exposing her bra.

The flap of fabric drew her attention just before Ruby’s cloak settled around her front like a blanket, protecting her from view. “There, now you don’t have to worry,” Ruby mumbled shyly. The leader shared a gaze with Yang and Weiss, nodding as they all seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Let’s head back home.”

Blake’s eyebrows furrowed together. “You don’t want to go back to the dance? I can handle myself from here now that they’re… out of the picture.”

She nearly flinched at the three angry glares that were sent her way. “I think we all agree that your safety is paramount, Blake,” Weiss said, crossing her arms. “What kind of teammates would we be if we were to just let you wander off along after what just occurred?”

“What she said.” Yang.

“Yeah!” Ruby.

Blake found herself hefted up suddenly by strong arms, letting out a soft cry of protest. “Put me down, Yang!”

“No can do, partner.” A grin was her answer, although even as Yang spoke, Blake could see the worry lurking in those lilac eyes of her. “I’m not letting you go. You and me, we’re gonna head back to the dorm and I’m gonna take care of your head and get you all cleaned up, okay?”

“What are we, chopped liver?” Weiss’ voice echoed, along with the tapping of her heel on the ground. “While you were off smashing those brutes into the ground, I put in a call to Vale’s police department. Someone will be along shortly to collect them.”

Just the thought of the flashing red and blue lights made Blake feel ill. “Can we go before they get here?” she pleaded. The police department had never thought well of her kind, and she had had one two many run ins with them to be anything other than wary.

She could see the way Weiss hesitated, obviously battling the proper procedure of sticking around to give statements versus what she knew would make Blake feel better.

“Why don’t we all just head back,” Ruby said, breaking the silence. “It’s not like they don’t know who you are since you called it in, Weiss. And these guys aren’t going anywhere. I’m… pretty sure their legs are broken.”

“Broken,” Yang confirmed when Ruby glanced at her. “Jerks aren’t going anywhere.”

“Annnyyway, despite Yang’s… maiming, I’m sure we can make statements tomorrow. For now, why don’t we just head back and get Blake taken care of. Then we can all get comfy and watch spooky movies and eat candy until we barf.”

“Gross, Rubes.”

“Heathen.”

“That sounds perfect, actually,” Blake whispered, drawing the attention back to her. “I just want to lay down right now.” She was tired. So tired. Resting her head on Yang’s shoulder, she curled up under Ruby’s cloak as best as she could. Yang smelled nice, and Ruby’s scent was still embedded into the fabric of her cloak.

Blue eyes softened, and Weiss gave a slight nod. “Alright. Statements tomorrow, sleepover tonight.”

“Yeah! Official Team RWBY Halloween Sleepover is a go!” Ruby cheered. Yang grinned, shifting Blake in her arms before beginning the short trek back to the dormitories. Ruby and Weiss flanked each side, and if a high heel stepped on someone’s chest, or a boot kicked a shoulder, no one said anything.

An hour later and everyone was relaxing on Blake’s bed, having changed out of their costumes the minute they had gotten in. Weiss and Yang had doctored Blake’s wounds despite her protests that she was fine.

There had been a lot of anger and a few sparks of flame when they had found out about the rocks.

But for now, everything was peaceful. Currently Blake was resting against Yang’s front with the brawler’s arms wrapped around her, chin resting between Blake’s cat ears, occasionally reaching up to give them a gentle rub. Ruby was on her left, head on Blake’s shoulder and arm thrown across her stomach protectively, and Weiss was on her right, one hand resting on Blake’s thigh. No one spoke, the room silent except for the sounds coming from the small tv that rested on the dresser as the main actress was chased around by the axe murderer.

As terrible as the evening had gone, Blake found herself despising Halloween just the slightest bit less.

#my writing #tw: racism #rwby #pollination #if you squint #it's still technically halloween

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Miho’s Bachelorette Party

Written in conjunction and collusion with @hifftn

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“You didn’t actually think you were going to get away with getting married without a bachelorette party, did you?” Jazz smirked, when Miho actually didn’t look all that enthused.

“You did,” Miho pointed out. “Sneaky tart.”

“Aaaand you wish you’d thought of it,” Jazz grinned, not the least bit put off by Miho’s attitude. “You could use a bit of fun.”

“You’re a respectable married woman and I am about to be,” Miho reasoned. “Neither of us can go around acting like we used to – hell, I’m nearly forty.”

“All the more reason to go out with a bang,” Jazz pointed out.

“There will be no banging at this party,” Miho growled, but Jazz then knew she’d won.

“Ah! So you agree? Excellent, I’ll get planning,” she declared in triumph, and Miho’s shoulders slumped.

“God damnit – no strippers either,” Miho cursed.

“Jeez you are getting old,” Jazz teased.

Sighing, Miho waved her hand in a gesture of defeat.

“You know Subaru is arranging Goto’s bachelor party, and Kurosawa is sulking,” Jazz added.

“Even after we invited him to be a groomsman?” Miho grumbled. “I know he’s sore about your friend being the photographer, but whose wedding does he think this is?”

“Maybe you should have asked him to be flower girl like we first thought?” Jazz laughed.

“Eloping does sound kind of nice,” Miho mused absently, placing her chin on hand, elbow on the desk. “Can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Eventually we’ll do a thing,” Jazz told her. “You and I have both done this before, but Kuni hasn’t, and neither has Goto.”

“Well if Seiji’s upset I’m not wearing white, he hasn’t said anything,” Miho murmured, rubbing her forehead a little. “Not sure how his folks will take the dark grey, it’s hardly traditional.”

“You said they weren’t overly formal right? And Goto’s brother didn’t seem to have a problem with it,” Jazz reasoned.

“True, but since… I get the impression he feels indebted so I doubt he’d say anything even if he did disagree.”

“Dealing with family is hard work huh?” Jazz exhaled, and Miho looked up, narrowing her eyes on her best friend.

“Right, at least the Goto family isn’t still living in the Dark Ages,” Miho nodded, then a slow smile spread. “If they cause you guys any more trouble, you know…”

She’d been going for her staple line - I was an assassin in a past life - because apparently the narrator can’t figure out any more witty one-liners, but she stopped for reasons we are all well aware of.

“After the shit I’ve endured on account of interfering families,” Jazz smiled, covering for her, “I’d sooner throttle them myself.”

  There were some things that Jazz refused to tell Miho about her bachelorette party - just as Goto was kept in the dark by Subaru. For this reason, Miho was left in a state of anxiousness - not because she thought Jazz or the others would hurt her - but more perhaps that her own nature might have led Jazz’s bachelorette party down some pretty wild rabbit holes.

On the night, dolled up as one would for a night on the town, Miho was escorted by her entourage of Jazz, H, Rose and Liana to what Jazz promised would be the first of several bars that had paved Miho’s road to Goto.

  “Conte? Really?” Miho queried, and that won her an elbow in the ribs.

“You have no idea how much effort I went to to organise all this,” Jazz hissed.

“Yeah well, I still get the distinct impression I’m the entertainment,” Miho replied.

“Of course you are! Did you think we do this so you could have fun? Nu-uh… it’s all for our own amusement,” Jazz grinned evilly and opened the door to the cafe on the ground floor of one of a thousand apartment buildings in the city.

Oh yes, it had been a pain to find all these places they would visit this night, but it was better than what she had originally planned. Or dragging Miho through strip clubs for example - a suggestion that came from Kyobashi of course.   

Jazz on the other hand came up with slightly devious plan that could or could not work. They would visit this cafe and bars with Miho where she had met former lovers. A tour through her colourful past. For the end of the evening Jazz had planned some kind of reconciliation, just in case Miho got grumpy being reminded of all the affairs she had before she found Goto. Although Jazz had made sure only to visit bars that would remember Miho of encounters that ended on good terms.

She had reserved tables in every venue and here the table was actually decorated, much to Jazz’s joy. Yoshio - joint proprietor of Conte- brought the first round of drinks for the night and Rose scrunched up her nose at the glitter on the table, but they all clinked glasses and toasted to Miho and Goto.

“I swear, if I see a stripper somewhere you get into serious trouble,” Miho grumbled but Jazz only laughed.

“In a cafe? No, no strippers, I promise, but feel free to flash when you feel like it,” Jazz pushed a shot glass into Miho’s hand and laughed happily when the bride-to-be groaned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but not now. Hold onto the glass, though, you will need it later. It’s your personal shot glass for tonight.”

Jazz winked and grabbed her own glass, turned a bit and chatted with Liana about how the newlywed life was treating her.

Though they’d started with shots, Mika and Yoshio soon brought over platters of food - a good thing considering how Miho figured the evening would go.

Not everyone seemed pleased with the little party stowed away in one corner. Light gray eyes peered over at them in disdain, the lone seated man who owned them wearing a surly expression.

Miho and the girls didn’t notice him, but the pair of men who then entered did.

“Jesus Ichiya,” Takamune cursed. “You look even more sour than usual.”

“He can’t help it,” Ayato snickered. “He was born that way.”

The pair then looked over when boisterous laughter erupted.

“What’s going on over there?” Ayato asked Mika who had returned to the bar.

“Bachelorette party,” Mika chuckled. “Good thing Conte’s their first stop - they seem pretty wild.”

“Huh,” Ayato mused thoughtfully, trying to get a better look. “That could be fun.”

Ichiya made a disgusted sound.

And just at that moment, Jazz nudged (see pushed) Miho to her feet, demanding she demonstrate correct tequila shot protocol.

“Miho?” Ayato dropped in surprise, and Miho’s gaze shifted and locked with his.

“Oh…” she dropped, sort of trapped there with the shot glass poised. “Hi Ayato, fancy seeing you… here…”

Then her head snapped to look down at Jazz.

“You sneaky bitch,” Miho hissed. “Of course, why the hell else would we come here for a party like this.”

Ayato mosied on over, and it was H who recognised him first.

“No way, Hidaka Ayato?” she blurted over the top of her own shot glass.

“Yep,” Jazz grinned proudly. “And guess who had a short but exceptionally torrid affair with him not that long ago.”

“Oh fuck me,” Miho groaned.

“You still offering?” Ayato questioned.

“I’m getting married so…” holding up her hand and displaying her engagement ring.

“I’m offering,” Rose piped up, raising her hand.

“Me too,” H put in.

“I almost wish I could,” Liana added.

“Why don’t you join us Mr. Hidaka?” Jazz suggested, dragging Miho down and over in the booth, making room for him next to the bride-to-be.

Ayato looked over his shoulder at Taka, who stood there with an unreadable expression on his face.

“That is totally Kitami Takamune,” H whispered to Rose, who looked totally blank.

“Who?”

“Superstar soccer player, duh,” H clarified.

“Didn’t know you were into soccer H,” Miho hummed, pointedly ignoring where Ayato still stood beside her just outside the booth.

“Soccer, not so much - hot soccer players though, different story,” H grinned, and Miho had to laugh, shaking her head.

“So?” Jazz prompted. “Drinks are on us, and you can even invite your grumpy friend over there - he’s kind of attractive.”

“Kind of?” Ichiya sneered.

“Would probably look better with his shirt off,” Jazz added thoughtfully, and this caused Ayato to let out a loud laugh, and Ichiya to look even more unimpressed.

“Hey, no strippers remember?” Miho reminded Jazz.

“Hey, I doubt that’s his official occupation, so it wouldn’t count,” Liana argued lightly.

“A stripper?” Ichiya balked indignantly, but it seemed Ayato liked the idea of this, and sat down next to Miho.

“Marriage huh?” he said, nudging her lightly.

Miho, like Jazz and H, was also not Japanese, and it seemed as a result that her partners felt free to be as familiar with her in public as they so chose.

“Who’d you find more awesome than me?” he added, and Miho pursed her lips.

“I don’t recall you being this arrogant,” she huffed.

“Eh maybe chalk it up to jealousy,” he smirked. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good mature woman who isn’t batshit crazy?”

This nearly caused Jazz to spit out her mouthful, and a dribble may have escaped at the corner of Rose’s lips.

“I guess we weren’t together long enough for you to get to the batshit crazy part,” Miho declared, her voice tight.

Her eyes flickered up at Taka’s approach, then beyond at where Ichiya had turned in his seat, but hadn’t gotten up.

“So come on,” H encouraged. “Dish all the dirt, no censorship.”

“Ahh no,” Miho shut down, and poured herself another shot.

“You’re going to half-ass your last hoorah as a single woman?” Ayato snuffed. “Poor form. If you won’t tell them, I will - you know, provided this isn’t going to get splashed around the tabloids.”

“Yeah maybe you shouldn’t spill the beans,” Taka offered, even as Liana slid a shot glass in front of him and filled it.

“More drinking, less discouraging,” she told him firmly.

“We met here actually,” Ayato began. “And really it was all…”

Miho slapped her hand over his mouth.

“They’ll only be casting you in female roles from now on if you say a word more,” she threatened, then pulled her hand away with a yelp when he actually licked her. “What the hell?”

“You used to appreciate my tongue,” he chortled, and the ladies at the table laughed, while Taka blushed and Ichiya shook his head, still on the other side of the room.

What followed was a truly no holds barred rundown of the very physical relationship Miho had with the young television and film star, that ultimately ended when they decided sneaking around and keeping out of the media was a bit too much hassle, and he needed to focus on his career.

“Is Miho actually blushing?” Liana asked, leaning across the table a little.

“I’ve had half a bottle of sake already,” Miho pointed out huffily. “And you lot ate all the wings.”

“Here, put this in your mouth,” Ayato suggested, and though he was offering Miho a prawn gyoza, everyone else at the table lost it laughing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Miho sighed, but took the proffered item and bit into it.

When the food was gone, it was time for them to move on - Jazz did the shoving since her glass seemed suspiciously free of alcohol.

“One for the road?” Ayato offered, just before Miho and the girls exited the building, and Miho paused.

“I don’t think s…” she began, but he’d already pecked her on the lips before she could quite finish. “God damnit Ayato, I was an…”

“...assassin in a past life!” came a chorus of giggly female voices behind them.

“Forget marriage,” Ayato grinned cheekily. “You’re going to need all the luck you can get just to survive tonight.”

Bidding Miho goodbye, she moved to the curb where the rest of the girls had gathered beside a sleek, black stretch limousine.

“Look,” Jazz prompted, holding her cell phone out to Miho, and Miho read the text message aloud.

“Wanted to make sure you girls got around safely, heart Kuni. Huh, so he’s trying to buy my trust is he?” she added, and Jazz scowled. “Fine, fine, evidence he cares for our wellbeing accepted. Tell him I said thank you, and I’ll do it myself later.”

“Can’t believe Mr. Aikawa sent us a limo,” H grinned, then blinked when the driver finally exited, took off his cap and bowed to them dramatically.

“My name is Baba Mitsunari, and I’ll be your dashingly handsome chauffeur for this evening,” Baba declared with a flourish.

“I doubt it very much Aikawa sent us a limo with you as the driver, Baba,” Miho pointed out, eyeing him, and he looked a little wounded. “Uh huh, what did you do with the actual driver?”

“He’s having a lovely time with a hostess at the Tres Spades,” he grinned. “I’m hurt you think I did something untoward.”

Pouting, he opened the back door and motioned the party inside, but Miho lingered outside a little longer.

“Sexism aside, bachelorette parties are supposed to be a women only affair, Baba,” she pointed out, and in response he slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a sideways hug.

“Oh come on Miho, pleeeeease?” he whined, but he was still grinning. “It’s not like I got invited to Goto’s shindig, though if I’m honest, I think I’ll have a whole lot more fun with you than him.”

His wink suggested much.

“Uh huh, we had our fun,” she told him sternly, then sighed. “But, I suppose, provided you stay sober and fully clothed, I’ll let you tag along.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, kissing her on the cheek before releasing her, and Miho shook her head.

“Oh I hope I don’t regret this.”

  Their next destination was much more upmarket, a bar with a sophisticated atmosphere, soft jazz music and low lighting - and Miho knew exactly who she Jazz wanted her to ‘run into’ here.

“Oh, you really are evil,” Miho growled under her breath, and Jazz just smiled happily.

Payback for all the twisted things Miho got her involved in… and all that fucking glitter.

“So what’s the story with this one?” Liana asked, ever the journalist even after a few drinks.

She asked this as they entered, and being the group of five fabulously dressed women that they were, they turned heads, including not one, but two Miho knew.

Intimately.

“This is bad,” she admitted to herself, and Rose gave her a prod in the back.

“Okay, who is it then? Is he here? He? She?”

“They,” Miho conceded, and Jazz’s eyes sparkled.

Just because she knew their haunts didn’t mean the guys she was after would actually be there, but this time - a two for one deal.

“They?” H laughed, scanning the room until she saw two men in suits seated together, who looked at each other, then over at Miho, then back at each other.

“Off you go!” Jazz ‘encouraged’ giving Miho a shove in their direction, and so Miho had no choice to continue along that trajectory, or make a really obvious and embarrassing retreat; as if she could do that.

Regaining her composure, she left her counterparts/torturers and approached the two men, who stood when she drew within conversational proximity.

“Well, this isn’t awkward at all, is it gentlemen?” she began sheepishly, planting hands on her hips.

“Awkward?” the black haired man responded with a gentle smile.

A smile Miho knew masked a very astute, sneaky mind capable of some incredibly loin-achingly sexy thoughts.

And he knew how to action those thoughts, the recollection of which obviously showed in Miho’s eyes, because he stepped forward to take her hand and kiss her on the cheek before she could recoil.

“I was thinking it’s rather nice to see you again,” he said clearly, even as Miho placed her left hand on his chest and pushed him from her personal space. “The feeling isn’t mutual perhaps?” he queried, tilting his head a little to the side, and it was criminal how a grown man, collected, calm and very adult, could suddenly look so cute. “If that were the case, why come to say hello at all?”

Then the other man cleared his throat, and Miho slid her gaze to him.

“Sorry Dr. Irie,” she apologised and he raised a brow, watching her and the man who still stood quite close to Miho, adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I’m not sure you ever addressed me that formally,” he commented. “And I have to admit being a little jealous that Yukihisa got to reprise intimacies with you, and I have not.”

Their voices were of the kind of volume that they didn’t travel far, but the other girls, Baba in tow, had inched their way with surprising stealth, to a nearby table. When they heard Irie’s comment, laughter tittered, and Miho ground her teeth and fought against what was surely not going to be the last blush of the evening.

“Sorry, Soichiro,” Miho exhaled after a few seconds getting her thoughts together.

“So you’ll join us then?” Yukihisa Maki prompted more than questioned, and he stepped back to pull a chair out for her.

“That depends,” Miho replied, flickering her gaze to the rest of her posse, “how you feel about the rest of my bachelorette party not just joining you, but also asking all sorts of inappropriate questions about our past relationship.”

The problem was, she knew he’d have no issue, he was not shy, nor in any way ashamed of the things they had done, and they places they had done them.

“Bachelorette party?” Soichiro repeated, narrowing his gaze on Miho - and much to the delight of her crew - Miho actually squirmed. “You’re getting married?”

“No need to sound so surprised,” Miho grumbled.

“It’s just, I have to wonder what changed your mind,” Soichiro smiled, but his gaze was intense. “You were so adamant you’d never marry again.”

“This is a topic of conversation you had with her So?” Yukihisa questioned, a little surprised.

“Of course,” Soichiro answered easily. “She turned me down.”

“You did not tell me that part!” Jazz blurted loudly, leaning in their direction, right across Rose’s lap.

Both Soichiro and Yukihisa then turned their focus to the group of women and their token male - who incidentally H was attempting to apply lipstick to.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Miho sniffed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, until Yukihisa took hold of her wrist and pulled her toward where the other party had congregated.

“This looks interesting,” he declared, lips poised just shy of a smirk. “I think we’d all like to hear this story, So.”

“Sorry,” Miho chuckled bitterly, but she did feel sorry for Soichiro, since he was the one who got refused.

She then introduced the two men to the group, and then her friends to them, before everyone was seated around one table.

“Did she break your heart Dr. Irie?” Rose asked boldly.

It certainly helped that new alcohol had landed - and Miho somewhat reluctantly put down her special shot glass and allowed it to be filled. Yukihisa sitting on her left watched her take a little sip, then throw it all back when Soichiro began to speak.

“If I’m honest,” he began, then Miho interjected.

“You don’t have to answer them,” she asserted. “It’s their mission tonight to humiliate me, you needn’t be a victim too-OW!”

That was Jazz’s toe connecting with Miho’s shin.

“I was in love with her, that is why I proposed,” Soichiro admitted with a nod, and Miho just couldn’t look at him.

The others, however, were waiting for him to continue with baited breath.

“And she crushed you beneath her bootheel?” H guessed.

“Jeez, I’m not a complete monster,” Miho grumbled, and Yukihisa offered to refill her glass.

“Emphasis on the complete, Princess,” Baba smirked. “You can be a real monster when you…”

“Baba!” Miho snapped, and the women laughed again.

“You too?” Yukihisa queried.

Apparently he’d already known about Soichiro and wasn’t bothered at all, but he looked perhaps a little vexed when Baba nodded quite happily in confirmation.

“You know, this all makes me out to be some kind of belligerent slut humping half of Tokyo and destroying the hopes and dreams of the other.”

“Accurate,” Jazz fake-coughed, then yelped when Miho kicked her under the table.

“I met Soichiro not long after moving to Japan okay?” Miho pouted, then forced herself to look at him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

This time there was no laughter.

“I know,” he smiled gently, making eye contact.

And suddenly the image of waking up next to him without his glasses flashed in her mind’s eye.

“Allow me to lighten the mood again with the tale of how Miho and I fell in with one another,” Yukihisa offered, breaking the soberness that had settled.

“Fell is accurate,” Miho agreed, glad to wade out of the tension.

“In loooooove?” Liana crooned with a grin.

“On my ass actually,” Miho clarified wryly. “Damn near broke my ankle.”

“He attacked you?” Rose scoffed. “Can’t think that would’ve worked out so well for him.”

“Nah,” Miho chuckled.

“She was pretty bruised afterwards though,” Jazz piped up, leaving what she meant intentionally vague so everyone else would indeed jump to the wrong conclusion.

“The swelling was quite bad for just a sprain,” Yukihisa nodded. “But some context. I believe our Miho came to the firm where I still work in search of some advertising suggestions for her matchmaking business.”

“Our matchmaking business,” the women all said together, then dissolved into cackles.

“I see,” Yukihisa chuckled. “Well, it was quite a busy evening when she was leaving, and the elevator was quite full…”

“Miho is a big fan of elevators,” Jazz snickered.

“If you’re referring to that time you saw Seiji and I, we didn’t do anything in the elevator,” Miho declared smugly.

“Oh yeah?” Jazz challenged. “What about that time wi…”

“Stop making this worse!” Miho exclaimed, lurching across Yukihisa to try and put her hand over Jazz’s mouth.

But Jazz wriggled away, basically leaving Miho sprawled across Yukihisa’s lap.

“You always did like a good spanking,” he mused, his face completely placid and composed as he said this, and he lifted one hand like he meant to actually do it.

But it was caught by Soichiro, who sent him a warning look.

“Come now, she’s spoken for,” he reminded his friend.

“And doing everything she can to distract us from the story,” Liana pointed out, as Miho sat up, still glaring at Jazz.

“She’s good at providing distraction also,” Yukihisa laughed. “Where were we?”

“Elevator,” the chimed again.

“Right,” he nodded. “Miho got a little jostled by the crowd, and ended up twisting her ankle.”

“Damsel in distress huh?” H smirked.

“More like angry as hell,” Miho huffed. “Broke the heel of a four hundred dollar pair of shoes.”

“You were fully reimbursed for that,” Yukihisa noted.

“And adequately compensated?” Jazz probed.

“I like to think a little more than just adequately,” Yukihisa replied smugly, looking sideways at Miho’s face, and she cleared her throat.

“Yeah okay, I can’t complain,” she admitted.

“It really was a case of one thing leading to another,” Yukihisa went on. “I iced and bandaged her ankle, by which time it was quite late, so I offered to drive her home.”

“Innocently of course, no ulterior motive,” Rose supposed.

“Was I thinking about crawling my hands up her leg while I was tending to her injury?” he posed rhetorically. “Absolutely.”

“She was technically your patient,” Soichiro stated, the first thing he’d said in a little bit.

“Which is entirely why…” Yukihisa began, but Miho cut him off.

“He was entirely appropriate,” she declared staunchly. “Set me on the couch, elevated my ankle and even made tea.”

Then she bit her lip.

“It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to kiss and tell,” Yukihisa then added, and the girls groaned in disappointment.

“What about you, Dr. Irie?” Baba asked shamelessly. “You ever get Miho to wear a cute little nurse’s outfit?”

At this, Soichiro’s cheeks reddened.

“That’s totally an admission,” Rose smirked, but Soichiro remained tight-lipped.

“Apparently gentlemen don’t roleplay kinky doctor-nurse scenarios and tell either,” Jazz teased, then looked over at Miho. “You ever play dress-ups with Goto, before you play getting undressed?”

“For some reason I’m now imagining him wearing a huge Domo costume,” Rose laughed.

“Oh I want that,” Miho nodded enthusiastically, again, dodging the question.

Alcohol flowed, but it wasn’t long before Soichiro excused himself, congratulating Miho on her engagement, and making his retreat - and Miho felt really guilty.

“Don’t look like that,” Yukihisa told her. “You may have broken his heart back then, but it mended. He’s seeing someone now, and they’ve been together for nearly seven or eight months.”

It wasn’t like Miho thought she was the be all and end all, but showing up like they had, with the new and questions they had, still seemed a bit rude at the very least - and Jazz would probably hear about it later. WIth him gone, Yukihisa seemed a little more open about being open, and so Miho had to sit through him regaling a great list of all the places - many of them public - he and Miho had gotten hot and heavy.

“Shameful,” Baba judged, shaking his head.

“As if you can talk!” Miho ejected, nearly spilling her drink.

They had consumed quite a bit, and all the women were beginning to feel it.

“Might I suggest you pause for some water before moving on to your next victim?” Yukihisa said.

“Doctor’s orders?” Miho grinned, substantially inebriated.

“Oh that brings back memories,” he noted, and appeared to be drifting into some recollection.

“God I wish I could see what he’s seeing right now,” Rose grinned, leaning against H a little.

“I’ll get the water,” Miho stated, sliding away from their table, swaying a little as she walked, muttering her hopes Yukihisa kept his mouth shut.

What he was thinking about, however, popped into her mind - a colourfully sweet blur of dangerously borderline sado-masochism executed in department store dressing rooms, train bathrooms and a multitude of other places where they could have been caught in flagrante delicto.

“Jesus,” she hissed out as she reached the bar.

“Nope, the name’s Go,” the cheerful young man behind the bar smiled. “Though we’ve met before I’m sure.”

“But not slept together,” Miho leveled, narrowing her eyes at him, searching her list just to make sure he wasn’t on it.

“No, but I wouldn’t be against it,” he chuckled. “Though I hear you’re getting married soon.”

“That’s the rumour,” she nodded. “And I love him, and any further attempts to get me all worked up over past indiscretions is going to be met with some serious… some serious…”

She was trying to be serious, and trying to articulate it was beginning to upset her a little more than just ‘flustered’, especially given how Soichiro had reacted, but her mind was now a bit fuzzy.

“Here,” Go said, moving around the bar with a tray, fresh glasses, and several jugs of water.

“Thanks,” Miho smiled a little sheepishly, suddenly aware of her drunken rambling.

  Meanwhile, at Goto’s bachelor party…

(Art by @jove-bluh)

Once Miho’s party was watered, they bid farewell to Yukihisa - who made a point of kissing Miho’s cheek as a parting gift - and Baba prepared to drive them to their next location.

“Change of plans,” Jazz announced, giving Miho’s linked arm a squeeze.

Miho inhaled before explaining.

“Since you are an interloper in what is traditionally supposed to be a woman only affair,” she announced, “we, or rather them - the committee for embarrassing Miho as much as possible in one night - have decided you require an appropriate induction into the sisterhood.”

“Uhmm…” Baba stalled, looking from flushed face to flushed evilly grinning face.

“To Shibuya!” Liana declared, pointing dramatically, and they all piled into the limo.

  Jazz: Lingerie first.

Baba: Something lacy.

H: Something minimal.

Rose: Like Jazz minimal?

Jazz: Hey!

Miho -seriously-: Jazz is right, we don’t want Baba to lose his panties five minutes after buying them.

Jazz -indignantly-: Hey!

Miho: If I’m honest, I have to wonder if Baba will be able to get himself into women’s lingerie.

Baba -nodding sagely while driving-: It’s true, I am an expert in the removal of such garments. I’m going to need a tutorial with live demonstrations. I’m a visual learner after all.

Jazz: You’re a perv after all.

Baba: Hurtful!

The girls: Accurate!

Rose: Wax or shave?

Miho -eyes shining-: Ooooh let’s wax him!

Baba -in horror, narrowly missing a pedestrian-: Excuse me?

H: Well it’s either that, or you’re going to have to lather up somewhere and shave those pins.

Miho -scoffing-: Pfft. Wax. Chest. Back. Legs. Buttcrack.

Baba: BUTTCRACK?!

Miho -cackling insanely until she starts coughing-: And ballsa…

Baba -with much urgency-: I’ll shave my legs! I’ll shave! Jazz don’t let her near me - she’s drunk and mean!

Jazz -snickering-: She doesn’t have to be drunk for that.

  20 mins later

  Baba -strolling with the girls back toward the limo-: Are you sure this dress doesn’t make my bum look big?

H -pinches said bum-: Seems fine to me.

Baba -shifting his weight uncomfortably-: Is a thong supposed to be that far up my...

Miho -snickering-: Well you should have let me wax it.

Jazz: If you can't taste your thong, it's not properly in place yet.

Liana -grumbling-: I still think he needs pigtails.

H -wrinkling her nose-: A grown woman isn’t going to pick up a respectable man wearing pigtails.

Baba: That’s okay, I prefer my men a little on the irreverent side.

Jazz -thinking… pondering… grinning, then cutting a glance at H-: I know your perfect match.

H -bites her lip to keep from cackling-

Rose: He still walks like a wharfie, Baba, you need to sashaaaaay.

Baba: Like this? -struts a few wobbly steps- Damnit these are uncomfortable -topples onto road-

  Despite the lengthening of the hour, the streets were still busy. Baba’s unceremonious topple to the asphalt caused a car to swerve just in time to miss him, and screech to a halt, much to the relief of Baba and the girls.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Miho blurted, as they all scrambled to Baba’s side in order to help him to his feet.

Lamentably, Baba peered at them and slowly raised his left hand.

“My stockings are ruined and I chipped a nail!” he wailed dramatically, just as the driver of the car exited his vehicle and started toward them.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” he declared - not scowling, not viperous, just stating the cold hard truth that Baba could have ended up with far more than just cosmetic damage.

He adjusted his glasses as the posse of woman relocated the footpath, perhaps actually seeking an answer to what had surely been a rhetorical question - when his eyes fell upon Miho.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Miho dropped, and she looked to Jazz accusingly, but Liana was the next to speak.

“Hiiiiideki?” she questioned, considerably more drunk - it seemed - than the others. “What are you…?”

“Hideki?” Rose repeated, looking at the man and raising an eyebrow, even as Liana lurched in the man’s direction.

“Miho,” the man said flatly, completely disregarding Liana until she reached for him. “Excuse me?”

H and Jazz and Rose studied the man a few seconds, while, Baba took Liana by the arm to prevent her from accosting him.

“Whoa, they really do bear an uncanny resemblance, don’t they?” Jazz murmured, looking from him, back to Miho. “Wait… you… and him?”

Miho sighed.

“And now you know why I passed Ishigami on to you,” Miho pointed out, and there was bitterness in her voice.

Though she’d been embarrassed, teased, had her sordid past explored throughout the evening, Miho had enjoyed herself - now, however, she did not look the least bit impressed.

“Are you really going to ignore me after your friend very nearly caused an accident?” the man soured, and with another heavy exhale, Miho faced him properly.

“Our most sincere apologies for the inconvenience, Mr. Hayami,” Miho apologised, but it was exaggerated, as was the depth of her bow.

The stumble as she righted herself, however, was not exaggerated, and she was lucky Jazz caught her elbow.

“Are you drunk?” Hayami frowned, stepping closer to scrutinise the flush of her face.

The reach of his hand toward her cheek, was not well-met; in fact Miho shuffled back just out of reach with a frown.

“Oh yes,” she snapped. “In addition to being a disposable whore, I’m a total lush.”

At this everyone blinked but Hayami.

“I am quite sure those aren’t my words,” he frowned, ever so slightly, adjusting his glasses just the way Ishigami did.

“Wha?” Liana scowled, looking really confused between Miho and Hayami. “Miho, did you?”

“Mhm,” Miho confirmed in defiance, wriggling free from Jazz and planting her hands on her. “Actions do speak louder than words anyway - I got the message very clearly. Did you get the job?”

In response, Hayami shifted his feet, and it took all of Miho’s drunken self control not to relish in the atypically uncomfortable set of his body.

“Yes, in point of fact I did,” he said after a few seconds.

“What job?” Liana scowled, still convinced the man Miho was facing off against was her husband.

“Congratulations,” Miho smiled, but it was razor-edged and laced with spite. “Happily married then I hope?”

Hayami cleared his throat. He was under no true obligation to explain what had occurred during and after his bid for the CEO position - and yet with her glowering at him like that he felt… guilty?

“Actually,” he began, “she brought in her own lawyer, had the contract she signed voided on grounds of coercion, and is now working at another company.”

The snort of derision that emerged from Miho was not the slightest bit lady-like.

“So you won by default and didn’t even have to get hitched to get there?” she laughed, shaking her head. “Kicking goals. I hope you enjoy that big, cold corner office Mr. Hayami; I trust the sacrifices were worth it.”

It wasn’t a question because she didn’t care what his answer was.

Ending the conversation, Miho turned her body entirely to jazz and the others.

“I think I’m sobering up - we should do something about that,” she declared decisively, and only looked over her shoulder when Rose and H stepped around and in behind her, frowning.

“Sorry about the car thing,” Rose apologised, but her voice was flat, and conveyed absolutely the opposite of contrition.

“You should probably get back to the office,” H put in sharply. “Don’t let us waylay you any longer - we have Miho’s engagement to celebrate.”

The hand that Hayami had reached toward Miho lowered slowly, and Haymi drew himself back up and behind a well practiced mask of indifference. He offered them no parting sentiments, but retreated from Miho’s ‘guard’ and returned to his car.

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t try to put that guy on our bar crawl tour of debauchery,” Miho grated, rolling her shoulders like she actually might have liked to throw down and kick the guy’s ass.

“I might have, if you’d told me about him,” Jazz responded, eyes narrowed.

Miho sighed and began again in the direction of the limousine, pointedly ignoring the disappearing shape of Hayami’s car.

“Come on Miho, spill it,” Rose urged, and grumpily Miho glanced back.

“Sure, pass me the salt to rub in this wound,” she griped.

“Oh come on,” Jazz snorted. “It can’t hurt that much considering you have yourself a Goto-shaped bandaid.”

“Pride injuries take a while to heal,” Miho explained bitterly. “But seeing as you all asked so nicely - I was seeing this successful executive of Sanno Corporation, the CEO’s assistant in fact, and in the scheme of our journey tonight, I suppose he was the most recent. He looks like such a stiff, all pressed shirts and shined shoes, but we’d meet at all times of the day and night, stayed in at least half the five star hotels in Tokyo, and he often paid for me to meet him in other cities.”

They listened intently, and when they reached the limo, Miho turned to continue.

“I guess, at some point, having a toothbrush in his apartment, a drawer of underwear, several outfits, a mug of my own, started to feel like we’d crossed over into more serious territory and… maybe I even entertained the idea that we could…”

Then she snorted again.

“Then Sanno’s CEO died, leaving behind this ludicrous manifesto outlining the most outrageous corporate succession plan I’ve ever heard of, and Hayami was executor of his instructions. The dead CEO’s granddaughter, who didn’t even know he was her grandfather, needed to undertake a series of relationship oriented goals with one of the company executives and at the end, marry him - then he, not she would get ultimate control over the company.”

“What the actual fuck,” H spat.

“Yeah,” Miho laughed pithily. “No woman would ever agree to that shit right? So they tricked her into signing an agreement she would participate, and tried to blackmail her into involvement by threatening the collapse of the company and the destitution to all its employees.”

“That’s no way to treat a woman,” Baba scowled.

“Right?” Miho growled, but it was followed by another sigh. “Anyway. There was a list of potential executive grooms and…”

“Hayami was one of them?” Jazz filled in.

“So he dumped you for a shot at the top job,” Rose spat. “Wow, I really feel the need to have words with this guy.”

“Packed all my stuff into a cardboard box and called me over to ‘explain’ the situation; said I was a ‘smart girl’ who would obviously understand it was an opportunity he’d be mad to ignore,” Miho frowned.

Her voice had lost its sharpness though; guess it really did still hurt a bit.

“Asshole even tried to kiss me after saying marrying that woman was what was best for his life,” she chuckled sadly, then forced her gaze up into the face of her friends. “Not me.”

“I know some people who could ruin his reputation if you’re still feeling wrathful,” Baba offered, and this caused Miho’s lips to tweak upward.

“Nah,” she shrugged wryly. “At the end of the day, he can go home to that empty apartment and feed his stupid fish, because they’re the only ones there for him now.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jazz grinned.

“Uuugh,” Liana groaned. “Do you have to mention spirits?”

Liana’s question helped to dispel some of the tension and got them giggling again as they climbed into the limo, and when they were settled

“Forget that creep,” Jazz announced once the limo was in motion. “Now it’s time to get properly serious.”

She grabbed the bottle of champagne sitting in the chiller and offered refills. When all glasses were full again she turned to face Miho who sat next to her, frantically trying not to laugh.

“So here’s the deal. Being a bride means you will be a wife soon. Being a wife means – connubialities. I know that sounds scary but we thought it’s better for us to warn you before THINGS surprise you in the end.”

H almost spluttered her rum over the seats and Rose raised an eyebrow.

“Liana here was kind enough to give me a rundown on the topic-“

The mentioned woman blushed and looked shocked like a deer in the headlights, there had of course never been a conversation like that.

“And as your friend I think it’s my duty to fill you in. Here we go.”

Jazz took a deep breath and actually one of Miho’s hands, trying to fix her expression into a concerned, serious one but it was hard. It really was. Jazz cleared her throat.

“So when you are married you will share a bed and he will – and this part is inevitable, because it’s his nature – he will want you to do THINGS with him. He might start with kissing you – I know, I know, it’s embarrassing but it’s part of being married after all. So he will kiss you and this time it won’t be the chaste kiss from the wedding, but something feral. With – oh my god, I can’t even say is…” Jazz fanned her face with her free hand and H cracked up, tears forming in her eyes.

“He will put his tongue into your mouth,” Rose deadpanned.

Jazz nodded gravely, H let out a faked but very disgusted sounding “eeeewwwwww”. Liana had to hold back not to laugh.

“Thank you, Rose. I’m not sure I would have been able to say it myself,” Jazz continued. “So, after sticking his tongue into your mouth – a sanitarily questionable act – it will only get worse. He will want to undress you and while he’s at it, also himself. Maybe he will even want you to undress him. Try not to look, it’s rather startling.”

Miho rolled her eyes but H deliberately ignored her and followed the vague script the girls had drafted before.

“Startling? Why?”

Again it was Rose to give the answer. “Well, men look differently than women. I could draw you a picture.”

“I bet you could,” Miho grumbled and Jazz chuckled.

“Anyway, you are right, Rose. I’ve heard that, too. For one thing there is the shocking lack of boobs.”

“Good thing Miho has enough of that for both of them,” H piped up.

“That she has,” Liana dryly stated only for the rest to burst out into laughter again.

Except for Miho, but at least she grinned smugly.

“But the most important difference lies somewhere else…” Jazz continued after catching her breath.

“Yeah, between his legs,” H added.

“Exactly. So while girls have a cute little lovebox, guys have something else. Their - trouser snake.”

Another round of roaring laughter and now even Miho had to chuckle.

“So when a man and a woman are married, the man usually wants to stick his wing dang doodle  into her altar of love. It’s just as disgusting as it sounds but you have to let him. You are only a full-fledged woman and wife once a man has planted his seed into your love garden. That’s your only purpose, serving your husband as he sees fit.” Jazz couldn’t stay serious while saying all these things, so her last words were already accompanied by her own laughter.

“And you can’t deny him access to your body! Like never!” H added with huge eyes.

“Why would I?” Miho asked back, earning another round of laughter.

“Most important is that you make him think you like it, no matter how much you detest what he’s doing. It isn’t meant to be pleasant for you, but eventually you might get used to it. Hopefully.” Jazz closed her eyes dramatically, as if she was praying for her friend.

“Okay, okay, are you finished already?” Miho half chuckled, half scolded.

“Things you should never say while he’s at it,” Liana commented with a straight face, making the others stare and then guffaw.

“Oh, but there are some things you should say while he’s at it! Like: ‘Oh my god, it’s so HUGE’,” H exclaimed, eyes wide in mocked astonishment.

“This will never fit!” Jazz chimed in.

“Is it supposed to be THAT big?” Rose added.

Miho smirked. “Well, actually…”

“The only thing you should really say is ‘fuck’, because that’s what it’s all about,” Baba suddenly piped up from the driver’s seat. Now that he was dressed up as a girl he seemed to think it would be okay to join into the conversation. “Guys notice the whole faked ‘oh my god, you are soooo big’ surprise. And you have to be a real jerk to actually believe it.”

“I bet Subaru believes it,” Jazz screeched, half laughing already. They all knew at least one or two guys who WANTED to believe it.

“Are you done with your little lesson of valu- value-… important things?” Miho was already so tipsy that she had problems with some words, much to Jazz’s delight.

“You don’t want us to impart our wisdom on you? Well, in that case we still have another place to go. Driver, to the main act!”

Jazz grabbed a scarf and motioned for Miho to come closer. “This one is a surprise, so I’m going to blindfold you.”

The whistles and suggestive ‘ooohhhh’s were only met by Miho’s cool gaze.

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that,” she stated, eyebrow raised.

“Come on, last time we did that you had fun,” Jazz shot back with a wink. The low groan from the driver’s seat got deliberately ignored.

“This is NOT going like last time!” Miho almost glared now and Jazz laughed happily.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to behave. For now.”

Miho relented and let Jazz wrap the scarf around her head.    

“You know, sometimes I’m a bit jealous of the both of you. You must have had a lot of fun together,” Rose mused and Jazz grinned.

“When you reach my age you better had some fun or you did something wrong. And after everything I heard most of us already did some pretty crazy stuff.” She raised her glass for the others to join, H nudging Miho and whispering for her to know what was happening.

“To crazy stuff and fun!”  

It didn’t take them long to arrive at the next bar and Jazz helped Miho out of the limo. Baba simply joined them, didn’t even pretend to wait for permission anymore.

“So, I know you might hate me a bit now for dragging through your old love joints-“ Jazz began only for Miho to interrupt with-

“A bit? Try a lot.”

But she shushed the bride to be.

“You will forgive me, I’m sure. The point is, you have to go through your past before you can face your future and soon you will be a respectable wife-,“ sarcastic coughs and giggles followed this bold statement, “and then it will be too late to rehash all your past adventures.”

“You know I’m going to come up with something embarrassing and painful for you in return,” Miho announced and although she couldn’t see it, Jazz nodded.

“I’m sure you will. And I will endure it and suffer appropriately for your amusement,” she assured her friend and led her into the bar where she took off Miho’s makeshift blindfold just to reveal the interior of Long Island to her – and the group of men around a table, with Goto in the middle. Subaru, Ishigami, Kurosawa; those were guys Jazz knew. From Miho’s description she figured the rest would be coworkers from the academy. Soma, Kaga and Shinonome. Kyobashi was also there, eyeing Rose the instant she came in. Kuni was behind the bar, Takao seemed to help him, and Saeki was also there, obviously intoxicated.  

“You take me to his bachelor party?! Don’t get me wrong, that’s a rather nice surprise, but crashing their party – won’t Subaru have your head?” Despite her concerned sounding words Miho was already staggering towards the table, as if her future husband was a safe haven from the teasing of the girls.

“Don’t worry, this was the plan all along.” Jazz gave her a light push and watched with a smile how Goto noticed Miho and how his slightly grumpy expression softened.

The guys had been playing paintball –

“Really, Subaru? I mean, you are shooting all the time, do you have to do that now even in your free time?”

– before they came to Long Island for a steak and some drinks.

“Looks as if this was a good idea,” Liana slurred, making Jazz grin.

At least Ishigami was here, too, he could take his drunken wife home in the end, while the ever excitable Kurosawa was uncharacteristically quiet, passed out over a table.

Kuni waved briefly and started preparing some drinks, although lighter version of their usual choices so the girls wouldn’t just drop to the floor eventually, completely wasted. Jazz quickly made her way to the bar and kissed him lightly.

“You’re having fun? Everything okay?” He shot her a concerned glance but she just softly shook her head.

“Don’t worry, except for the expected hangover everything is great.”

“Their hangover, not yours, I hope.”

She scrunched up her nose slightly. “I’m not stupid, love. I didn’t drink, but it wasn’t easy to distract Miho, she’s quite perceptive, even when she’s drunk.”

He patted her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit.

“It’s okay, Kuni, I don’t mind.” With a sigh she looked over at Goto and Miho. “One last thing on my agenda and I can relax,” she muttered and pushed herself off the counter.

Meanwhile H and Rose had fun dragging Baba around, teasing him, telling him how to act and talk as a woman. It only took a couple of minutes before they were sitting at the bar, a smirking Kuni handing them drinks.

“Nice dress,” he commented and pushed a glass of whiskey over the bar.

“Nope, not tonight,” Rose said and snatched the glass, downed the whiskey and put the glass back on the bar. “He’s our driver tonight.”

Kuni looked at Baba with a surprised expression. “YOU are the driver? What happened to the one I sent them?”

“Sudden change of plan, don’t worry. Nothing serious.” Baba took the glass of juice Kuni handed him.     

“And who are you?” Saeki asked and slid onto the seat next to Baba. Rose and H giggled.

“A friend,” H simply said, nudging Rose a bit with a grin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of H is also my friend. Takamasa Saeki, at your service.”

“Saeki?” Baba asked, earning himself a kick against the shin from Rose who motioned for him to talk higher, like a girl.

Baba cleared his throat.

“Saeki?” he cooed, making H and Rose burst into laughter.

“Exactly. THE Saeki. The famous script writer. And you are?” Saeki grabbed Baba’s hand and H lost it.

She laughed until the tears streamed down her face when Saeki frowned a bit, his drunken brain somehow registering that Baba’s hand was unusually big for a woman’s hand. Even bigger than his own…

“Her name is Mitsi,” Rose said, distracting Saeki from his train of thought.

“Mitsi… a beautiful name.” Saeki was still holding Baba’s hand, making him slightly uncomfortable.

Kuni was trembling with his suppressed laughter but didn’t say anything.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for celebrating the end of the unmarried life of Miho and Goto. I don’t know what you boys did all night, but the girls accompanied Miho on a trip down on memory lane.” Jazz laughed and waited for everyone to give her their attention. “But the trip through the past had to end somewhere, and what would be more fitting than leading her to her future husband?”

She smiled at the happy couple and Miho seemed at least a bit appeased for what Jazz had put her through.

“I would suggest we give them a moment in the spotlight. How about a dance?”

On her signal Kuni turned some music on and the guests cheered and whistled while Miho and a visibly flustered Goto were pushed towards an open space in the bar.

With a defeated sigh Miho grabbed Goto’s hand and pulled him close, they started swaying to the music. Subaru came over to Jazz and together they watched the dance.

“What did you do to her?” he asked and Jazz grinned.

“Don’t ask and I don’t have to lie. But we had quite some fun.”

That exact second, Saeki jumped from his seat, bowed exaggeratedly in front of ‘Mitsi’ and asked for this dance. Rose and H laughed so hard that they almost fell from their seats when Baba slid from his chair, with heels even taller than Saeki who didn’t seemed fazed at all, probably due to the amount of wine he already had. Of course this odd couple attracted the attention of the other guests, and Jazz couldn’t help but take a few pictures of it for future – well, let’s just call it blackmailing.

Baba wasn’t a spoilsport; that was for sure. He didn’t even flinch when Saeki’s hand slid from the small of Baba’s back a bit lower, but when Saeki attempted to dip Baba low and the whole bar was roaring with laughter even Miho and Goto stopped dancing.

“He’s stealing our spotlight,” Miho chuckled, thoroughly amused by the weird picture in front of her.

“Good. In that case no one is paying attention… let’s sneak out,” Goto suggested.

“Or…” Miho giggled and raised one eyebrow.

“Or what?”

“Second floor? And I bet no one would miss us right now.”

She was still in his arms, her fingertips caressing his arms through his shirt.

“Really? Here? And now?” Goto knew the answer but he wanted to make sure that Miho wasn’t too drunk to make a decision like this.

“Yeah, definitely. After the night I’ve had what I really need, is you. Come on…”

She lightly dragged him towards the door that hid the stairs, chuckling in anticipation and mischievousness.

That trip through her past had quite the effect on her; and now she couldn’t wait to get Goto alone. And Jazz deserved this after the eventful night she’d arranged. Miho and Goto would conquer the bar in their very own and private way - and Miho would make sure that Jazz would learn about it.

Tomorrow.

  BONUS!

  Like a pair of ninja, or at the very least a ninja and a noble samurai lord from a flashback that might get turned into its own story, Miho and Goto stole upstairs. The moment they stumbled through the door to what looked like it might once have been a storeroom, but had been converted into a narrow bedroom, they fumbled for one another.

Though normally Goto might have been concerned about the fact they left the door open, now, he was completely absorbed by the frustrating fabric that kept his needy hands from pressing against her skin.

“What’s taking you so looong?” Miho whined, her own clumsy fingers having trouble with his belt.

He was, in fact, having so much difficulty, he’d stopped kissing her, and was giving the zipper at the back of her dress his full attention, arms reached around her.

“Don’t stop kissing me,” she hissed. “I need to get the bad taste of this evening out of my mouth.”

This caused him pause, and with the zipper miraculously half way down her back, he looked into her face.

“What exactly have you been putting in your mouth that it would have a bad taste in it?” he questioned slowly, his eyes a little unfocused, a little bleary from drink.

“I was speaking figra… friga… fir… I wasn’t being literal!” she exclaimed, scowling. “It’s just, I was reminded of all the… of what I… hmm…”

She couldn’t quite think of a delicate way to express ‘reminded of all the guys I screwed before you’, and so let her sentence trail off.

“I want my life to start over from this moment,” she said finally, seriously, and in response Goto slid the zipper the rest of the way down and dragged her dress to the floor.

“I’m good with that,” he grinned, bringing their lips together firmly until he somehow managed the hooks on the back of her bra.

Heat flared, radiating from within as they gave into the hazy lure of hunger and desire, but Goto, who had sunk to his knees before where Miho was pressed against the wall, paused with his fingertips at the thin elastic band of her hot pink panties.

“Jazz was here first?” he said, much to Miho’s confusion.

“What?” Miho blinked - why the hell would he bring Jazz up at a time like this.

“Your underwear,” he clarified, slipping her panties down, and once she’d stepped out of them he stood to show her. “Did you get dressed in the dark or something?”

“Huh?” Miho hissed, her body aching for his touch but forced to inspect the flimsy undergarment Goto had on display.

Across the triangular front panel were indeed the words ‘Jazz was here first’ and as he turned the panties to the back, Miho read the second statement.

“There may still be some glitter. What the hell Jazz?” she exclaimed, but couldn’t help but laugh.

Goto threw the panties aside dismissively and wrapped his soon to be wife up in his arms.

“I don’t care who got there first,” he declared in a throaty rumble. “I’m going to be the only one from now on.”

 And so the next day, when Kuni finished cleaning up the bar and went upstairs, he found a very interesting pair of panties just sitting there in the hallway.

@hifttn @smutmylifeup @belxsar @mirandaflamel @smile-smile-ichthys

#voltage inc #voltage otome #voltage drama #mjs #marriage matchmaking and wedding event planning #yukihisa Maki #seiichiro hayami #goto seiji #soichiro irie #ayato hidaka #hlitf #msb #kunihiko aikawa #baba mitsunari

[mllemusketeer]

Jazz and Groceries

Continuing the self-insert-verse! Because we all need some cheerful escapism right now. 

Or, the one in which Autobot over-protectiveness meets its match, and Jazz is embarassed in a parking lot.

There’s something about ordering at the butcher’s counter at a grocery store that makes you feel like a Real Adult, and plus, my local grocery store often has better prices at the butcher’s counter. Which is great, because one of my few sins is the amount I spend on food.

“Anything else?”

“A pound of the double-smoked bacon, please.” The guy behind the counter and I shared the grin of the unapologetic bacon lover.

“Great stuff.”

“God yes.” Okay, the double-smoked bacon wasn’t that economical but it was good. There’s no point in being unhealthy if you don’t really enjoy it.

Bee-deep.

I accepted the brown paper packages I’d ordered, gave the guy another grin and polite farewell, and went to look at the veggies. Again. I was making up my mind about the bok-choi, which were expensive, but the cheap ones were another 20 minutes of driving away, at the international market.

Bee-deep. I frowned down at my phone and pulled it out. Text from Jazz. How much longer u going to b in there?

I grinned at the texts, their mash-up of complete sentences and text speech typical of a Cybertronian texting. They tried text speech, couldn’t quite get the hang of it.

Bee-deep.

Seriously.

Bee-deep.

I am SO BORED.

“Serves you right,” I muttered to the phone. You see, Jazz had been getting over-protective lately. All the ‘bots had. There had been the annual report of causes of morbidity and mortality in the US last week, and unfortunately, I’d been the conduit through which it’d gotten to the ‘bots. Hey, I’m taking classes in policy on top of my ethics coursework. It’s all in a day’s work for me.

And had totally panicked Jazz and co. Because right there, right at the top of causes of accidental death? And near the top of overall causes of death?

Motor vehicle related incidents.

See, we all know, intellectually, that getting behind the wheel is the most dangerous thing we do on a daily basis. Hell, it’s one of the most dangerous things we do, period. We just sort of accept it, that yeah, sure, there’s a chance we could get ourselves killed or injured every time we go to the store, and then we ignore it, because going to the store needs to happen with the minimum of gibbering terror.

Which is why it took me until I was 21 to get my license, but that’s tangential to the whole issue.

So Jazz got ahold of my iPad, open to said report, and, because ‘head of special ops’ translates to ‘incurable fucking snoop’ in personal relationships, read it, and then he chirped it to Optimus, and Optimus, who goes around vacuuming up interesting information about humans like my dog sucks up spilled shredded cheese from the kitchen floor, hadn’t quite run across that tidbit yet, and freaked. In a very gentle and stately manner, of course, because he’s still Optimus Prime. But he freaked.

The reasoning went thus: the humans are risking themselves daily driving to work. It is probably the riskiest thing they do every day.

This includes the human researchers. Actually, it especially means the researchers, who are crossing town on a daily or weekly basis to get to the base.

And to go to the grocery store. And things like that.

Cybertronians are far better drivers than humans. It’s more like walking to them. Besides, they can always transform and save the human, right? Or just dodge.

So for all the ‘bots with human friends, Optimus suggested that they try to minimize our driving time.

Which why my name was mud on base just now. It’s all very well and good for Sam, because Bumblebee is his first and only car, and they have something worked out with driving, but for Captain Lennox suddenly dealing with a very protective Ironhide? Hoo boy. And of course it’s my fault, because I was the twit who left my tablet lying around where an incurable fucking snoop can find it.

Because of course the jerk’s figured out how to get past the fingerprint scanner. No boundaries.

So I was pissed too. Not only because of the lack of personal boundaries, not only because Jazz was trying to babysit me, but because I too had a car I’d brought with me to grad school, and I preferred to drive myself, thanks. Meant I didn’t have to wait to go shopping. There’s also just the simple fact of, yeah, I love my research, I love the ‘bots, but I want a life outside of that, too. Oh, and also, I’d like to be able to go to a party without coordinating with Jazz. Ya know, little unreasonable things like that.

Oh, and I liked my car. His name was Blur, which for some reason made Jazz laugh hysterically when I told him, and he was a Honda Fit, a nice little car that resembled nothing more than a fat, happy, blue tadpole. He could haul like a pickup truck if I needed to, and I’d gone camping in him repeatedly, and he got 40 mpg. Jazz was wonderful, but he had nowhere to put the fucking groceries. Let alone camping supplies. Or the dog crate.

Jazz had looked up the safety specs on Blur when he’d first realized I drove that thing. Blur’s tadpole-ness was not, Jazz felt, an endearing quality. Especially when the info on the 2013 Honda Fit came back, saying it scored top points in collisions from all directions save the front, which it tanked on. Probably because the snub-nosed design meant that in a front-end collision, the driver would receive a lapful of engine.

“Okay,” I’d said, “then I won’t run into anything with the front of the car.”

Jazz had made a gesture like a human tearing their hair, both hands on his sensory horns, and gone, “Arrrgh!”

Honestly, it wasn’t the best retort, I’ll admit that. But it lost me the argument. Jazz was taking me grocery shopping. Blur sat sadly in the driveway, and got sat on by the neighborhood cats.

But I had one final volley in my arsenal.

You see, grocery shopping is fun. I get to putter around and think about eating tasty things. I get to stare at all sorts of tasty things, and decide what I’ll get and what I’ll do with them, and it’s just plain nice.

Translation: I can and will spend an hour per grocery store, if I think I can get away with it.

Which brings us back to the bok-choi and my angrily bee-deeping cell phone.

I pondered the bok-choi, then decided to go to the international market. Now it was apple time. This store had an entire stand dedicated to apples, some of which I could only find in the farmers market back home. I decided to rub it in a little more. I pulled out the phone and took a picture, then texted it to Jazz. Look at all the apples, I said. Deciding on one variety this week’s going to be hard! Pink Lady is one of my favorite, but there’s definitely a new variety here I haven’t heard of…

You are EVIL, the response read.

Hey, I’m not even at TJ’s yet, I sent. We’ll hit that next.

ARRGH.

I snickered, and went back to the apples.

Bee-deep.

I looked at the phone, expecting more robot bitchery, and instead saw, Do not come out the front of the store.

“The fuck?” I said aloud, and then I heard it.

The crash.

The distinctive sound of a large robot fist hitting a large robot face. Or other body part. A sort of clanging thump. And then a screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech of metal on asphalt.

“Oh,” I said. Well, so much for the shopping. Apparently I was evacuating a grocery store today, if the manager didn’t get their act together right quick.

A tumultuous half hour later, involving a lot of speaking calmly in a loud voice and directing people out the back of the store and to a safe distance, and free groceries, I sat in the parking lot next to Jazz, who was picking bits of metal out of his fists and looking sheepish.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” I said.

“I didn’t realize Barricade was around. He’s using some sort of cloaking technology we’re unfamiliar with,” said Jazz, looking, if possible, even more sheepish. “It wasn’t planned. I think he picked up my signature and took the opportunity.”

I looked around the parking lot. Jazz and Barricade had been hurling shopping carts for a bit there. There was one in a tree, looking oddly festive, surrounded by bright yellow palo verde blossoms. “I see,” I said.

“Clean up should be here soon.” Jazz stood, and winced as he did. Barricade had scratched his leg pretty good, though he assured me it was fine. Ratchet was on his way anyhow, because he couldn’t trust any of the Autobots to accurately report damage, slaggit. “Um.”

Pause.

“Maybe,” said Jazz, in the distinct tones of someone conceding a point they really, really didn’t want to concede, “maybe you are safer doing the shopping in that little blue death trap.”

I grinned. That was about as good as I was going to get.