#((I really enjoy the detail in that sign lol))

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

(Part 4)

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader

Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 9892

Warnings: Joker, lol

Summary: Poor Y/n let herself go while Joker was locked up, now she's sick and Joker's goons have to look after her

A/N: Took a while to get this one out (shocking) but got it done! a bit on the shorter side of my other fics, but I didn't really have much for this part, it's more of a little fun one

(Laptop was playing up again, so had to post from my phone, will fix later)

Hope you enjoy this part 💚

-

It had been an agonising week without Joker. Normally, this wouldn't have been a cause for concern, disappearing for stretches of time was just something he did. But this time was different. This time, she knew he was in trouble, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her like a vice. Her anxiety, already a constant companion, had become an unbearable storm of worry and dread.

The news outlets seized every opportunity to cover the story of Joker being locked up, using every scrap of information. While the police remained tight-lipped, determined to withhold key details, the public had ways of uncovering the truth.

Grainy cell phone footage of Joker in a shitty holding cell circulated online, and rumours spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, their voices merging into a deafening roar that only added to Y/n’s unease.

Every time she passed a television or scrolled through her phone, there it was, his face plastered across the screen. Headlines blared about his arrest, speculating on his motives, his crimes, and what the authorities planned to do with him. Each broadcast felt like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder that he was out there, caged, while she was here, powerless to do anything about it.

She was surprised to see that his makeup was still intact. Whether the authorities hadn’t bothered to remove it or had tried and failed, it didn’t matter. His face remained as she remembered it, boldly painted and defiant, other than little empty patches here and there. Oddly enough, it brought her a small sense of comfort, a reminder that even in their custody, he was still him.

She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed their last moments together over and over, dissecting every detail, searching for some sign, anything, that he had a plan to get out of this. Because he always had a plan…didn’t he?

Y/n paced her small apartment, her nails chewed down to the quick, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She considered calling someone, Rocco, maybe, but what would she say? Who could she trust? And even if she found someone to talk to, what could they do?

The uncertainty gnawed at her. Joker’s absence wasn’t just a void in her life, it was a ticking time bomb, and she was terrified of what might happen when it finally exploded.

The days dragged on, blurring together as Y/n confined herself to her room. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything. Her appetite was nonexistent, and the thought of eating made her stomach churn. The only thing she consumed was water, and even that was more out of necessity than care.

The once-cozy space she called home felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on her. Her bed became her constant companion, the blankets pulled around her like armour against the world outside. She hadn’t bothered to tidy up or even open the curtains. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen.

Her reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale and dull. She felt as though the weight of her worry for Joker had physically anchored her to the bed.

She didn’t want to see anyone. Avoiding her friends, ignoring texts, and letting her phone calls go unanswered, she kept herself isolated. Leaving her room felt pointless when her mind was consumed by thoughts of him.

Her chest tightened every time the news flickered on in her head, imagining the cold, sterile cell he was probably in. It was a mental loop she couldn’t break out of, and it left her drained.

Y/n’s neglect of herself was becoming painfully obvious, the toll on her body undeniable. Her once-vibrant complexion had turned discoloured and lifeless, dark shadows lingering beneath her hollow eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the lack of proper nourishment leaving her looking gaunt and fragile.

Her energy levels had plummeted. Even simple tasks like standing up or walking across the room left her feeling lightheaded and weak. Her muscles ached from lying in bed for so long, and her legs felt shaky when she did manage to pull herself up.

The dehydration was catching up with her, despite the water she drank. Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and rough to the touch. Her hair hung limp and dull, reflecting the lifelessness she felt inside.

Her immune system stretched thin from stress and lack of sustenance, left her vulnerable to every chill in the air. She must have developed a slight fever that she didn’t have the strength to care about, brushing off the sweat on her brow as just another inconvenience.

Y/n’s body was screaming for help, yet her mind remained fixated on Joker. It was as if she’d become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally drained, all because the one person she cared about most was out of her reach.

Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, barely able to reach the half-empty water bottle sitting on her bedside table. Her fingers brushed against it weakly, but even the small effort was too much. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her dry lips barely parting.

Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, was fixed on the ceiling when the creak of her door made her heart skip. She thought it was just another trick of her mind, her exhaustion had caused her to hallucinate sounds before. But this time, shadows fell across the dim room, and she slowly turned her head.

Her vision was too poor to make out details, the figures were just dark blurs against the soft glow of the hallway light. Panic fluttered in her chest. Was she dreaming? Or had her mind finally cracked? She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight, but the figures remained.

Then one of them stepped closer, and a familiar, gravelly voice filled the room. “Boss sent us,” Rocco said simply, his tone gruff yet somehow grounding.

Y/n’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a hallucination. These were real people, they were in her room. She managed to push herself up on trembling arms, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. How had they gotten in? The door was locked...wasn’t it? How fucking shit was this dorm’s security?

Her bleary eyes darted to the second figure, standing just behind Rocco. She didn’t recognise him, this one was new. He stayed silent, his broad frame looming in the doorway, while Rocco stepped closer.

“Damn, kid,” Rocco muttered, his voice softer now as he looked her over. “You look like hell.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her throat dry and her mind too foggy to form words. All she could do was stare at them, trying to process what was happening.

The realization hit her like a jolt. Joker. Was he okay? Did he send them to check on her? Did this mean… he was still out there? Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly, desperate for answers, but too weak to demand them.

Rocco stepped closer, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His sharp features softened slightly as he took in her dishevelled state. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” he muttered, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “Boss wouldn’t like this. He sent us here to make sure you’re still kickin’.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her head swimming with questions, but the mention of Joker made her heart clench. Her lips moved, though no sound came out at first. She swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in her throat before croaking, “Joker...?”

The second man, the one she didn’t recognise, stepped forward now, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked over her like he was assessing her condition. “He’s fine,” the man said curtly. “But he’s got…other things to handle right now.”

Rocco shot the man a look, clearly annoyed by his lack of tact. “What he means,” Rocco said, his tone more measured, “is that the Boss can’t exactly walk through your front door right now. So, he sent us. He wanted us to check in, make sure you’re okay, and…” He hesitated, glancing back at the other man before sighing. “...and make sure you get back on your feet.”

Y/n felt a rush of emotions, relief that Joker was alive, frustration at her own helplessness, and confusion about why these two were standing in her room like they belonged there. “How…how did you get in?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rocco smirked faintly. “Lock wasn’t much of a challenge,” he said, jerking a thumb at the other man. “Frankie here’s got a knack for getting through doors. Don’t worry, though. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Frankie, so that was the name of the stranger, gave a curt nod but said nothing. His presence felt imposing, but he didn’t seem hostile.

Y/n tried to sit up straighter, her body protesting with every movement. Her head swam as she forced out another question. “Why…why did he send you?”

Rocco reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “Boss cares about you, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “More than you probably realise. He doesn’t like the idea of you wasting away while he’s out there handling business. Said if you don’t start taking care of yourself, he’ll have to come sort you out himself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Y/n took the bottle with shaky hands, her eyes wide as she processed his words. The thought of Joker sending these two to check on her, even while he was dealing with his own problems, made her chest tighten. He cared. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way, he cared.

Rocco stood up, brushing off his knees. “We’re here to help, alright? Whether you like it or not. So, drink up and get moving. Boss wouldn’t want you like this.”

Y/n hesitated, then took a small sip of the water. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it was the first thing she’d managed to drink properly in days. She nodded faintly, her voice still weak but determined. “Okay.”

Rocco’s patience quickly wore thin as he watched Y/n take another feeble sip of water and sink back into the mattress. “Alright, that’s it,” he said firmly, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “You’re coming with us. Boss’s orders.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them. “What? I can’t–” she stammered, but before she could finish, Rocco leaned down and grabbed her arm gently but insistently.

“You don’t get a say in this, sweetheart,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Boss wants you outta this bed, and that’s what’s happening.”

The other man, Frankie, sighed and moved to the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable but his stance ready to assist. “She’s not exactly in any condition to walk on her own,” he muttered.

“I can tell,” Rocco replied sharply. “That’s why we’re here. Now, up you go.” He pulled her up to a sitting position with surprising care, though his grip was unyielding. Y/n groaned, the motion making her head spin and her stomach churn.

“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t even stand.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Rocco said as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “But you’re not staying here, wasting away. Boss ’ll have my head if we leave you like this.”

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could, Frankie slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly out of the bed. She gasped in surprise, her body trembling from the sudden movement.

“Don’t drop me!” she cried weakly, her hands clutching at his shirt.

Frankie scoffed. “Relax.”

Rocco opened the door, stepping out first to make sure the coast was clear. “Move it, Frankie. Let’s get her to the van.”

Frankie carried her out of the room, his movements steady but brisk. The cool air in the hallway hit her like a slap, and her already fragile state made it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled against Frankie’s shoulder as they made their way outside.

The van was parked at the curb, its engine idling softly. Rocco opened the back door, gesturing for Frankie to set her down. “Easy now,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Frankie carefully eased Y/n into the van’s backseat, her body slumping against the upholstery. Rocco climbed in beside her, positioning her so she wouldn’t slide around during the ride. He reached over to buckle her seatbelt, muttering, “Don’t even think about trying to wiggle out of this. Boss ’ll hear about it.”

Y/n didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head rested against the window, her body aching and weak, but somewhere deep down, a flicker of curiosity sparked through the haze of exhaustion. Where was she being taken?

-

The van rumbled to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, the oppressive gloom of the Narrows seeping in through the windows. Y/n barely stirred, her frail body sagging against the seatbelt. Rocco turned to glance at her, his expression somewhere between irritation and concern.

“We’re here,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt. Frankie was already out of the van, opening the back door and reaching in to unbuckle Y/n.

“C’mon, girl,” Frankie said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Boss wouldn’t want you sitting out here all night.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her vision still a blur. She didn’t have the strength to protest as Frankie once again lifted her, cradling her like she weighed nothing. The cold night air nipped at her skin as they exited the van.

The building in front of them was dilapidated, its bricks cracked and stained, with faint graffiti scrawled across the lower walls. The windows glowed faintly from inside, casting eerie shadows onto the narrow street.

“An apartment?” Y/n mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible.

“Temporary safe house,” Rocco said curtly, leading the way to the door. “Boss’s orders.”

Frankie adjusted his hold on her as they climbed a narrow, creaking staircase that felt like it might give way at any moment. Y/n groaned softly, her head lolling against Frankie’s chest. The exhaustion in her body made the journey feel endless, each step rattling through her fragile frame.

On the third floor, Rocco stopped in front of a battered door with peeling paint. He fished out a key, unlocking it with a click before pushing it open. The apartment inside was sparse but clean enough, furnished with the basics, a couch, a small table, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into the corner of the single room.

Frankie carried Y/n inside, laying her carefully on the couch. She let out a faint sigh of relief as her body sank into the mattress, her muscles aching from the short journey. Rocco lingered near the door, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.

“Not exactly five-star,” Rocco said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’ll do.”

“Boss said to keep her here and make sure she eats something,” Frankie said, stepping back and stretching his arms. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”

“Yeah, well, she’s been like that for days, hasn’t she?” Rocco grumbled. “I’ll have a look. Can’t let her starve.”

As Y/n lay on the couch, barely able to keep her eyes open, a thought began to gnaw at the back of her mind. She hadn’t fully processed it before, but now, with Rocco and Frankie’s casual conversation, it became clear.

They were talking about him, Joker, like he was still calling the shots, like he was still in control, even though he was locked up and under 24/7 security. Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flooding her veins.

The implications of it all settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. How were they in contact with him? Was he somehow orchestrating everything from behind bars? Was he pulling the strings while locked away, unable to move?

She tried to sit up, her body protesting the movement as if the world around her was spinning. The dizziness from the exertion made her head throb. She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus as she reached for the water bottle beside her. Her fingers trembled as she unscrewed the cap, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. But the question remained.

How is he still in control? she thought, her mind racing. She hadn’t heard anything about Joker’s escape, nor did it make sense that he could have any influence from inside a high-security facility. So how? How were his goons able to move so freely?

She glanced over at Frankie and Rocco. They didn’t seem concerned, almost like it was business as usual. Rocco was leaning against the wall, checking his phone, and Frankie was off to the side, inspecting the small kitchenette. Neither of them gave any indication that they were afraid or worried about Joker's imprisonment.

Y/n felt a pit in her stomach. Was he that powerful, even locked up? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The whole situation felt surreal like being stuck in a bad dream.

“He’s always had a plan,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "He always has a way."

The weight of the situation settled deeper into her chest as she realized that Joker was always three steps ahead. Even now, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, Joker had found a way to keep his reach, his control, intact.

But how much longer could he stay in control from inside a cell? How much longer before something broke? Before she broke?

She closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away, but it lingered. It always did when it came to him.

Rocco reappeared from the kitchen, holding a paper bag that crinkled loudly as he walked toward her. He tossed it onto the table with a heavy thud, then turned back to the cabinets, muttering something to Frankie under his breath. Frankie came over to the couch and crouched in front of Y/n, his gruff face softening just a bit.

“You need to eat, girl. You’re lookin’ worse than a dead man,” he said, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a juice box from the bag.

Y/n blinked at the items as if they were foreign. It had been days since she’d eaten anything substantial, and the idea of food felt distant, almost abstract. Still, Frankie didn’t give her much choice.

“Come on,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. He unwrapped the sandwich for her and held it out. “A few bites, at least. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she nodded weakly. With trembling hands, she took the sandwich from him and managed a small bite. The dry bread felt foreign against her tongue, and the first swallow was like pushing a rock down her throat. But then the second bite came easier, and the third after that.

Rocco turned back around, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Gotta admit, didn’t expect you to be this far gone,” he said bluntly.

Frankie shot him a warning glare, but Rocco shrugged. “What? She looks like she’s been through hell.”

“She’s been through enough,” Frankie snapped, his voice lower this time. “Just shut up and let her eat.”

Y/n barely registered the exchange, too focused on the sandwich and the juice box that Frankie had handed her. The sweetness of the juice was a shock to her system, waking her up a little more as it soothed her dry throat.

“Better?” Frankie asked after a moment.

Y/n nodded faintly. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Good,” Rocco said, moving closer to the couch. He placed a bottle of water on the table beside her.

“You’ll need your strength. Don’t know what’s comin’ next, but Boss wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.” Hearing that sent a pang through her chest. Joker.

Even when he wasn’t there, his shadow loomed large, dictating their actions. And here he was, using that power for her. Joker’s influence reached her even now, in her lowest state, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. As unsettling as it was, a small part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt comforted by it.

-

Y/n lay curled up on the worn couch, her body trembling despite the cheap oil heater buzzing weakly beside her. The warmth it offered was pitiful, barely taking the edge off the icy chill that had settled into her bones. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths uneven, and her forehead was hot to the touch. She was clearly feverish, and even in her half-conscious state, she could feel how badly her body was struggling to fight off the fatigue.

Frankie paced back and forth, running a hand through his greying hair. “She’s shivering like a damn leaf,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Rocco. “What the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a sick person!”

Rocco sat slumped in a chair at the dining table, his arms crossed. “What do I look like, a nurse?” he snapped, his frustration barely contained.

He glanced over at Y/n, her frail form looking smaller than ever under the thin blanket draped over her. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s think. Fever, right? You’re supposed to–uh–what? Cool her down? Or warm her up?”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Both? Neither? Hell if I know! You think I went to med school?” He rubbed at his face, muttering under his breath, “Boss didn’t say nothin’ about this kind of situation.”

Rocco grumbled and approached the couch, peering down at Y/n like she was some fragile, alien creature.

“She’s shakin’ like crazy,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “What if we just...I dunno...get more blankets? Or turn the heater up?”

He leaned down and gave the old oil heater a hard smack, but it didn’t do much besides rattle noisily. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.

“More blankets?” Frankie echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, great plan, genius. You wanna bury her in a mountain of old fabric and hope for the best? Real top-tier care there, Dr. Rocco.”

He shook his head and started rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something that might help. “Maybe there’s medicine or some kinda first aid kit around here,” he said, opening drawers with loud thuds.

Rocco scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought it back to the couch. He crouched down beside Y/n, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Hey, girl,” he said awkwardly, his gruffness giving way to something softer. “You gotta drink some water. Can’t let you keel over on us, alright?”

Y/n groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Rocco’s concerned face hovering above her. “Can’t...move,” she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.

Frankie returned, holding up a bottle of aspirin triumphantly. “Found somethin’! Says it’s for fevers,” he declared.

Then he frowned, looking at the label. “Uh...how much do you give someone? One pill? Two?”

“Well, what does the box say?” Rocco grunted.

“I don’t know, the instructions have been worn off,” Frankie said, squinting at the box.

“Just give her one to start. We don’t need to knock her out cold.” He turned back to Y/n and gently pressed the glass to her lips. “Come on, drink,” he coaxed. “It’s just water.”

With effort, Y/n managed a small sip, though most of the water dribbled down her chin. Frankie handed over the aspirin, and Rocco awkwardly placed it in her mouth, tipping the glass again to help her swallow.

When she finally did, Frankie let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. That’s somethin’, at least.”

But the two men were clearly out of their depth, and it showed. They stood by the couch like sentries, unsure of their next move.

Frankie scratched his head, mumbling, “We need someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doin’. This ain’t our thing, man.”

Rocco nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare flicker of worry. “Yeah, well, until then, we keep her alive. Boss would kill us if somethin’ happened to her.”

He glanced at Y/n, who had already slipped back into a restless sleep. Her shivering continued, even with their clumsy attempts to help. “We gotta figure this out,” he muttered.

Y/n stirred on the couch, her face scrunched up. Frankie, who had been pacing near the window, noticed immediately and groaned.

“Now what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

Y/n grimaced again, her lips twisting in discomfort. “That aspirin…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Tasted...weird. Like...really weird.” She made a faint gagging noise and stuck out her tongue, clearly unhappy with whatever lingering aftertaste it left behind.

Frankie narrowed his eyes and turned to Rocco, who was leaning against the wall. “What the hell does she mean, ‘tasted weird’? You gave her somethin’ bad?”

Rocco straightened up, looking offended. “I didn’t make the damn pills, Frankie! I just gave her what you found!”

Frankie stomped over to the kitchen counter where the small box of aspirin sat. Snatching it up, he squinted at the faded label.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “This thing’s...expired! Look at this! Says it went bad two years ago!” He turned the box toward Rocco, jabbing at the tiny print with his finger.

Rocco groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered. “Who keeps expired meds in their place? Like, throw it out already!”

“Apparently these guys don’t care about restocking the essentials,” Frankie shot back. He threw the box onto the counter with a loud thud. “And now we probably poisoned her on top of everything else!”

“Relax, Frankie,” Rocco said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “What’s the worst expired aspirin can do? Lose some of its kick? She ain’t foamin’ at the mouth or anything, is she?”

Y/n, still curled on the couch, managed a weak glare at the two men. “You guys…are terrible at this,” she mumbled.

Frankie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We suck at playin’ nursemaids. But cut us some slack, huh? This ain’t exactly what we signed up for when joining Joker’s gang.”

Rocco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Great. Boss is gonna love hearin’ we gave his girl bad pills. Just perfect.”

Y/n, too tired to engage further, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.

Frankie and Rocco exchanged an exasperated look before Frankie finally grumbled, “Alright, that’s it. No more meds until we double-check this crap. I ain’t takin’ any more chances.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” Rocco muttered, though the jab lacked its usual bite.

-

Frankie and Rocco stood awkwardly around Y/n, who had drifted back into an uneasy rest on the couch.

Frankie pulled out his phone, scrolling rapidly. “Alright, lemme just Google this fever crap. Can’t be that hard, right?”

Rocco leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. “What’s it say?”

“Uh…” Frankie squinted, reading aloud. “‘Keep them hydrated, plenty of water.’” He gestured at the half-empty glass on the coffee table. “Nailed that one already.”

“Barely,” Rocco muttered, rolling his eyes.

Frankie ignored him and kept reading. “‘Medications to reduce fever.’” He immediately grimaced and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, no. We ain’t doin’ that shit again.”

“Definitely not,” Rocco agreed, glaring briefly at the expired aspirin box still sitting on the counter.

Frankie pulled his phone back out, tapping on a new link. “Okay, here’s a blog post...‘hot soups help.’ See? We’re getting somewhere!”

Rocco folded his arms, unimpressed. “Hot soup, huh? What’re we supposed to do, whip that up in this dump?”

Frankie snapped his fingers. “Hold up! I saw some canned soup in the cupboard earlier. Gimme a second.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet, and emerged triumphantly holding a dusty can of chicken noodle soup. “Jackpot!”

Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Frankie, that thing looks older than the aspirin. You’re not feeding her that.”

“It’s soup! It’s basically immortal,” Frankie argued, waving the can around.

“No,” Rocco said firmly. “You’re not risking Boss’s girl on canned science experiments. Get your ass to the store and buy her some fresh stuff.”

Frankie groaned. “Man, come on! The store’s, like, five blocks away!”

“And?” Rocco crossed his arms, his glare cutting. “Go. And don’t come back with anything cheap.”

Muttering under his breath, Frankie grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. “This is ridiculous. First a nurse, now a delivery guy. What’s next, a fuckin’ florist?”

Rocco just waved him off, turning back to check on Y/n as Frankie disappeared into the hallway.

Rocco sat down heavily on the chair opposite Y/n, watching her shiver even under the blanket draped over her.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/n stirred slightly, cracking her eyes open. She looked at him, her expression groggy and confused.

“Where’d he go?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rocco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Frankie’s gone to grab you some real food. Something to help with the fever.”

Y/n gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again. “Thanks…” The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the oil heater struggling to warm the space.

Rocco glanced at it, frowning. “Piece of junk,” he muttered, standing up to adjust the settings. When it didn’t do much, he huffed in frustration.

-

The door creaked open quietly, and Frankie slipped inside, juggling several heavy grocery bags. Y/n was finally asleep on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Rocco, who had been sitting nearby and keeping watch, stood up and stalked over, his brows furrowed at the sight of the bulging bags.

“What the hell is all this shit?” Rocco hissed, gesturing toward the bags as he took a couple to lighten the load.

Frankie scowled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I don’t know, man. I went to grab some canned soup like you said, but some old lady saw me standing there and decided to get involved.”

Rocco raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘got involved’?”

Frankie set the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “She started giving me a lecture about how canned soup isn’t good enough for someone sick, then walked me around the store grabbing vegetables and spices and crap. Kept saying, ‘Make her a proper soup.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means!”

Rocco stared at him, then at the bags now spilling over with carrots, celery, onions, and random herbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “You mean to tell me, instead of just heating up a can, we now gotta make soup from scratch?”

Frankie shrugged helplessly. “Apparently. Look, she was scary, okay? You try saying no to someone’s grandma when she’s lecturing you in the middle of the store.”

Rocco jaw hung open, looking at Frankie. “You have a gun..you’re 6 foot fucking something…and some little old lady scared you into making soup..”

“Hey man, I ain’t never gon’ mess with an old lady…besides, she had a heart of gold,” Frankie pouted, looking absolutely ridiculous.

Rocco muttered a string of curses under his breath as he started unpacking the bags. “Great. Just great. Now we’re chefs.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said to get her the good stuff,” Frankie shot back, grabbing a knife and a cutting board. “Guess this is what the good stuff looks like.”

Rocco glared at the pile of ingredients like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if you screw this up, you’re eating it.”

Together, they fumbled their way through prepping the vegetables, with a hastily Googled recipe on Frankie’s phone that neither of them could agree on.

“This one says dice the carrots, but what the hell is a dice? Like cubes?” Frankie squinted at the screen.

“Cubes? What are we, making toys? Just chop the damn things,” Rocco shot back, already wielding a knife like it was a weapon. He hacked at an onion, the uneven pieces scattering across the cutting board.

Frankie grabbed a stalk of celery, holding it whole above the pot. “Do you think we can just throw these in as is? I mean, they’ll, like…dissolve, right?”

Rocco stared at him in horror and swatted the celery out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just chuck that in like a log! Cut it into pieces!”

“Okay, okay, relax,” Frankie grumbled, fumbling for the knife and hacking at the celery with no regard for uniformity.

Rocco groaned, snatching the knife from him. “That’s not cutting, that’s mangling. You’re lucky she’s too sick to care what this looks like.”

It took twice as long as it should have, with constant interruptions of “Is this small enough?” and “Are you sure that goes in the pot?”

Eventually, they managed to get all the vegetables chopped into vaguely even pieces. By the time they added everything to the pot, they were both sweating and grumbling.

Frankie stirred the mixture triumphantly. “Alright, that wasn’t so bad.”

Rocco glanced over his shoulder at the recipe still open on the phone. His face fell. “You idiot. Did you even read the part where it says this has to simmer for two hours?”

Frankie froze, spoon in hand. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Two hours. Minimum.” Rocco threw his hands in the air. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Frankie groaned, slumping against the counter. “How does anyone have the patience for this? I should’ve just stuck with the canned stuff.”

“Yeah, but now we’re committed,” Rocco grumbled, crossing his arms.

He eyed the bubbling pot, already dreading the wait. Despite their frustrations, neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt a little satisfaction in knowing they’d gone the extra mile. After all, they weren’t doing this for themselves.

-

The soup had finally been left to simmer, and the two men sat at the small table in the corner of the apartment, exhausted from their makeshift cooking adventure. Rocco had his arms crossed, leaning back in the chair, while Frankie tapped his fingers against the table impatiently.

“How long’s it been?” Frankie asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Frankie groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “We should’ve just bought one of those instant soups. Heat it, serve it, done. Why did I listen to some random old lady?”

Rocco shot him a look. “Because you don’t have a spine, Frankie.”

The soft sound of mumbling caught their attention, and they both turned toward the couch. Y/n was stirring, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. She shifted slightly, curling up tighter under the blanket.

“Think she’s gonna wake up?” Frankie whispered.

“Not if we’re lucky,” Rocco replied, though his gaze lingered on her pale face, still marked with exhaustion.

A faint bubbling noise came from the kitchen, and Frankie bolted up. “Crap, is it boiling over?”

They rushed to the pot like a couple of amateur chefs, Frankie grabbing the spoon to stir while Rocco adjusted the heat.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rocco muttered, glaring at the pot as if daring it to betray them.

Frankie stirred a few more times before stepping back, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, I think we’ve got it under control. Now what?”

“Now we wait. Again,” Rocco said, rubbing his face. He glanced toward the couch. “She’s still out, so at least we don’t have to explain why the kitchen smells like…well…that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Frankie muttered, leaning against the counter.

The hours dragged on as the soup slowly came together. They took turns checking the pot and whispering arguments about whether it needed more salt or if the vegetables were soft enough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet cooking, but by the time the two hours were up, the apartment smelled surprisingly good.

Frankie grabbed a spoon and tasted it, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Hey, it’s…not bad. I mean, it’s edible.”

“Edible isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Rocco muttered, but he grabbed a spoon and took a taste as well.

He frowned, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, it’s decent. Let’s see if she can actually eat it.”

They carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, Rocco holding it steady while Frankie grabbed a spoon. As they approached Y/n, still curled up on the couch, Frankie nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, we’ve got something for you.”

Y/n stirred, her tired eyes blinking open. She looked up at them groggily, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…is it?”

“Homemade soup,” Rocco said, setting the bowl on the small table next to her. “Don’t ask how we made it, just eat it.”

Y/n stared at the bowl suspiciously, then looked up at them. “You made this?”

“Yeah, and it took forever, so you better appreciate it,” Frankie grumbled, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

With their help, she sat up slowly and took the bowl into her hands. The warmth of the soup felt comforting, and as she took a small sip, her eyes widened slightly. “It’s…good.”

Rocco and Frankie exchanged a look, both pretending to shrug it off, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable.

“Damn right, it is,” Frankie said, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Now eat up. We’re not going through that again anytime soon.”

Despite her exhaustion, Y/n managed a faint smile as she took another sip. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel quite so terrible.

As Y/n slowly worked her way through the bowl of soup, the two men hovered nearby, pretending to busy themselves but clearly watching her every move. Frankie leaned against the counter, tossing a dishrag between his hands, while Rocco pretended to scroll through his phone.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/n muttered, her voice still raspy but carrying a faint note of amusement.

Frankie snorted. “Babysitting implies we actually know what we’re doing. This is more like damage control.”

Rocco smirked but didn’t look up. “Just eat. You’ve looked like a ghost for days, and it’s freaking me out.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but continued eating. The soup wasn’t just warm, it felt like it was slowly pulling her back from the brink. Despite their clumsy efforts, the two had managed to create something that didn’t just fill her stomach but soothed her.

When she finished, she set the bowl down on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Thanks,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading to the kitchen.

Rocco sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. He studied her for a moment before speaking. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, you know that, right?”

Y/n cracked an eye open and gave him a weak glare. “Kinda hard when you feel like shit all the time.”

“Yeah, well, feeling like shit isn’t gonna stop the boss from tearing into us if something happens to you,” Rocco muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The mention of Joker made her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the soup settle over her like a blanket.

Frankie returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Alright, since you’re fed, it’s bedtime. Doctor Google says rest is key or whatever.”

“Doctor Google?” Y/n mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, and don’t laugh. It’s the only medical degree we’ve got around here,” Frankie shot back, tossing the towel onto the counter.

Rocco stood up, stretching. “He’s right, though. You need to sleep. We’ll be here, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”

Y/n opened her eyes briefly, glancing between the two. Despite their gruff attitudes and questionable bedside manners, she could tell they were genuinely trying to help.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frankie grabbed an extra blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her as she curled up on the couch. Rocco turned the heater up a notch, muttering something about the drafty apartment.

As they settled into their makeshift positions, Frankie lounging in the armchair and Rocco leaning against the wall, Y/n let herself drift off, the sound of their quiet banter lulling her to sleep.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

-

Rocco had just settled back into the creaky chair, giving Frankie a side-eye as he scrolled through his phone. The apartment felt oddly quiet for once, with Y/n asleep on the couch and the sound of the heater humming in the background.

But the silence was shattered when Rocco's phone rang, cutting through the stillness. He stared at the screen, confused by the number.

"Who the hell..." he muttered, before swiping the screen to answer. "Yeah?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a familiar voice came through the phone, rough and slightly distorted, as if coming from a distance. "Rocco."

Rocco froze, eyes widening. His grip tightened around the phone. "Boss? Is that you?"

A low grunt came from the other end, the voice now unmistakable. “No, it’s Santa. Give the phone to her.”

Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to Y/n, who was lying on the couch, her breathing slow and steady in deep sleep. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her peaceful face before shaking her gently.

“Hey, wake up. Phone’s for you,” Rocco said, his voice low.

Y/n groaned softly, stirring under the blanket, her eyelids fluttering open but still heavy with sleep.

“Mmhmm?” she mumbled, barely registering what he said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Take the phone,” Rocco said, pressing the phone into her hand with a small, apologetic smile.

Y/n’s eyes, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to process his words. But when she heard the familiar voice come through the phone, her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, Bunny.”

Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of his voice, disbelief and relief flooding through her all at once. "J!" she gasped, sitting up quickly despite the remnants of sleep dragging at her.

“That’s right, Bunny.” Joker’s voice came through low, almost muffled. “Now, listen. I don’t have much time, so don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble. No names, no details. Just keep it simple.”

“Okay...” Y/n whispered, almost in disbelief that she was hearing him. Her pulse raced in her chest.

“How you holding up? They uh..treating you okay?” Joker’s voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven in, something that made her heart swell.

Y/n paused for a moment, her thoughts racing. “Yes, they’re keeping me good...I had food, water, and sleep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to worry him any more than he already might be.

“They feed you?” Joker repeated, his disbelief clear.

“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

"And you lived?" Joker’s voice became incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“It was really good, actually! I swear!" Y/n chuckled softly, her mood lightening just hearing his voice, even if it was through a phone call. "I don't know what the hell they did, but it was, like...homemade soup or something.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Homemade soup?” Joker’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Jesus Christ, Bunny, what the hell’s going on over there?”

Y/n laughed again, feeling a little lighter as the conversation continued. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him, how much she needed to hear his voice. Even with all the danger and chaos swirling around them, this small moment made everything feel somewhat normal again.

“What have you been doing, Bunny, hmm?” Joker’s voice dropped an accusatory tone, his words sharp yet tinged with concern. “Cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself.”

Y/n winced, guilt bubbling in her chest. “I know…I just haven’t been feeling great,” she muttered, her words barely escaping her lips.

“That’s no excuse to not look after yourself,” Joker snapped, though his voice softened quickly after, as if trying to hide the edge of frustration.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his words sinking in. “I understand…” She paused, looking down at the blanket wrapped around her, picking at the fibers.

“How is everything there?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from her.

“How you’d expect a police station to be like,” Joker replied with a nonchalant chuckle, as if it was just another ordinary day. “No worries, Doll, I’m a frequent flyer here. They’ll ask me questions until they get tired, then send me right back off to Arkham.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted at the mention of Arkham. “What?” Her voice cracked, fear creeping into her chest.

“Don’t worry about it, Bunny,” Joker reassured, his tone light despite the underlying danger of his words. “I’ll be out before that happens.” He let out a chuckle, like it was all just a game, but it did little to ease the knot in Y/n’s stomach.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of what he was saying, but it didn’t add up. How could he sound so calm about all of this?

“What else is going on?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“Well, they keep asking about your car,” Joker said, the amusement slipping into his voice again.

“They just won’t believe me when I tell them the car’s not being used for some heist or whatever, but my dear Bunny’s.” He lingered on the words, a playful hint beneath his serious tone. “They think I’m some kind of Joker.”

Y/n chuckled nervously, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Well, from their point of view, I get it,” she said, rubbing her temple in a half-hearted attempt to ease the headache that had been gnawing at her for days.

In the background of the call, Y/n could hear a voice growling from a distance. "Okay, that's enough phone time for you!"

"Ooh, looks like the coppers want me," Joker's voice rang through the phone, still light-hearted despite the gravity of the situation. "Take care of yourself, Bunny. Get Frankie to go buy you an ice cream, you deserve it."

Y/n’s heart sank a little, knowing the call was ending. “Okay, bye J…” she murmured softly, a twinge of sadness in her voice as she reluctantly let go of the connection.

“Mwah!” Joker’s voice perked up, the sound of a kiss sent through the phone before the line clicked dead.

Y/n stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, her chest heavy. She handed it back to Rocco without saying another word, her gaze wandering over to Frankie, who had been quietly watching her.

“Joker said you have to go get me an ice cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.

Frankie blinked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Come on!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m ain’t your personal ice cream runner, you know that?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle despite herself, the weight of the situation lightening just a little bit. “He said I deserve it,” she insisted, giving him a small, playful look.

Rocco snorted in the background, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, but Frankie just shook his head, clearly not amused by the sudden ice cream errand he was apparently now obligated to run.

“Fine,” Frankie muttered, clearly out of options, “But only ‘cause boss said so.” He turned towards the door, grabbing his jacket. "Don't expect me to get you anything fancy."

Frankie stormed out of the apartment with a grumble, muttering about how he was too old for this kind of nonsense. Y/n couldn't help but smile a little, even though the sadness still lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Rocco leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he observed her. "You good?" he asked, his tone soft but concerned.

Y/n nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. "I will be," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Just…it’s hard, you know? Hearing his voice and then having to hang up." She paused, looking at the door where Frankie had just left. "I just feel…I don’t know. Like I’m just waiting for something to happen."

Rocco gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "I get it. But he’s not gonna let them keep him for long. You know how the Boss is." He seemed to try lighten the mood.

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "I hope you're right," she murmured.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of Joker being locked up, of everything that might go wrong, out of her mind.

After a few moments of silence, Rocco sighed and walked over to the window. "You need to rest. Frankie will be back soon, and when he gets back, you can get some real sleep. We’ve got you covered here."

Y/n didn’t argue. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and the warmth of the couch was almost too inviting. "Yeah," she whispered, sinking further into the cushions, "maybe just for a little while."

Wasn’t long till Frankie finally returned, looking both annoyed and tired, two containers of ice cream in his hands.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, placing the tubs on the coffee table with a huff. "Ice cream, just like the Boss ordered."

Y/n blinked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish as she looked at the ice cream. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to muster up a smile, though still tired. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But…why do you have two?"

“Like hell I’m gonna do all this work without reward,” Frankie said, lounging back while opening his tub of ice cream.

"Alright, you two. Eat your ice cream, then you get back to sleep." Rocco said, pointing at Y/n.

Y/n finally allowed herself a tiny laugh, something genuine this time, as she took a spoonful of the ice cream. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

-

It had been only a few hours since Y/n had finished the ice cream and drifted into sleep. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles in before something disruptive happens. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash, slamming against the wall so hard that it rattled the cheap picture frames hanging nearby.

Y/n jolted awake, heart racing as she instinctively sat up on the couch. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she blinked at the doorway, trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and lingering sickness.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was the one and only Joker. His grin stretched wide, his green hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. He threw his arms out, as if putting on a grand show for an audience of one.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with that unnerving mix of charm and madness.

Y/n blinked again, certain she was either dreaming or hallucinating. “J?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Joker’s grin widened as he sauntered into the apartment. “In…the…flesh, Bunny,” he said, spreading his arms wide before giving a mock bow. “Miss me?”

Rocco and Frankie stumbled out of the kitchen, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. “Boss?!” Rocco exclaimed, his voice cracking. “How the hell did you–”

“Details, details!” Joker interrupted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “Do I look like a man who lets a little thing like prison keep him down?”

He spun on his heel to face Y/n again, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you, Bunny…you’ve been naughty.”

Y/n stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around his sudden appearance. “How are you here…?” she started, but her words trailed off as he strode over to her, crouching down so they were at eye level.

“Now, now,” Joker said, tilting his head as he studied her sickly face. “We’ll get to that later. First, we need to talk about you. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus, Bunny. Frankie and Rocco been slacking on their uh…babysitting duties?” He shot the two men a glare over his shoulder, making them both stiffen.

“Hey, we’ve been taking care of her!” Frankie protested, gesturing toward the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. “She ate, she rested, we even made soup!”

“Soup.” Joker repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My Bunny eating your soup. Yeah, I heard about that little endeavour.” He turned back to Y/n, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But still, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she looked into his intense gaze. “J, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker leaned in closer, his grin turning devilish. “Bunny, I told you before. I’m gonna come back for you.”

Y/n didn’t have time to process Joker’s words before he stood up, his energy buzzing like static in the room. He clapped his hands together, making both Rocco and Frankie flinch.

“Alright, boys, let’s have a chat,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “What’s the state of this little hideout? Security tight? Supplies stocked? Or have you two been playing house while my Bunny’s been rotting away?”

Frankie looked at Rocco, who reluctantly spoke up. “We’ve done everything you asked, boss. She’s been fed, rested, and kept safe. No one’s sniffing around. We’re good.”

“Safe,” Joker repeated, his tone skeptical as he paced the room. “And yet my Bunny looks like she’s one sneeze away from passing out again. Safe doesn’t mean a damn thing if she’s not healthy.” He whipped around to face them, his eyes blazing. “So, what’s the plan, hmm? How are you two fixing this?”

“We’ve been doing what we can!” Frankie interjected. “Soup, meds, ice cream, what else are we supposed to do?”

Joker laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…You don’t fix her with ice cream and soup. You fix her by making sure she never gets like this in the first place!”

He pointed at Y/n, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “You let her get sick, and that’s the problem.”

Y/n finally found her voice. “J, stop,” she said, her tone firm despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “They’ve been taking care of me. It’s not their fault.”

Joker’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression softening slightly. “Defending the little guys, huh, Bunny?” He crouched down again, his gloved hand resting lightly on her knee. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Can’t have my Bunny falling apart on me.”

“I’m trying,” Y/n said quietly, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.

Joker straightened up, his manic grin returning. “Good. Because I didn’t bust out of that hellhole just to find you looking like an inch away from death.”

He turned to Rocco and Frankie. “You two, make yourselves useful. Get this place cleaned up, get some decent food stocked, and find a real doctor. None of this DIY crap.”

“Doctor?” Frankie repeated, wide-eyed. “How are we supposed to–”

Joker silenced him with a glare. “Figure it out. Or do I need to babysit you, too?”

The two men exchanged a nervous glance before scurrying off, muttering plans under their breath.

Joker turned back to Y/n, his expression unreadable. “Now, Bunny, let’s get you feeling better. And then…” His grin widened, full of dangerous promises. “We’ve got work to do.”

The apartment settled into an odd rhythm. Rocco was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, muttering complaints about how Frankie always left things half-cleaned. Frankie lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, just waiting to jump up if Joker barked an order. Y/n, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a chair by the window, her fever finally subsiding.

Joker was at the table, sketching out something on a crumpled napkin, his gloved fingers moving with quick precision as he muttered half-formed plans to himself.

It felt oddly normal, like a strange little family of sorts. The heater hummed faintly in the corner, its warmth mixing with the faint scent of leftover soup lingering in the air. Every now and then, Joker would glance up at Y/n, his gaze softening before snapping back to his frantic scribbling.

But outside, across the street, perched on the rooftop of a rundown building, someone was watching. The figure was cloaked in shadows, blending seamlessly with the dark sky. Through binoculars, the scene inside the apartment unfolded in perfect clarity.

The faint glow of the heater, the flickering light from the TV, and the exaggerated gestures of Joker as he spoke animatedly to himself, all of it was observed in meticulous silence.

The man adjusted his grip, the faint outline of a gloved hand catching a stray glint of moonlight. A gust of wind ruffled the long edges of their cape, but they remained unmoving, a silent sentinel above the chaos below.

Their focus lingered on Y/n, her eyes closed as she slept on the run down couch. Then it shifted to Joker, who leaned back in his chair, throwing a mocking laugh toward Frankie.

A voice crackled softly in his earpiece, almost inaudible against the city’s distant hum. “Are you going to move in, sir?”

The man’s jaw tightened. No response.

His gaze returned to Joker, whose grin widened as he shoved his napkin sketch across the table for Rocco to examine. The man’s grip on the binoculars tightened, his shadowed silhouette growing even stiller, waiting for the right moment to strike.

-

A/N: Yep, very much on the shorter side, but got through it, lol.

I enjoyed writing this one, it was a little fun on to write for me, just Y/n getting treated by Joker's incompetent goons

Hopefully it will pick up in the next chapter (considering how I ended this one 👀)

Thank you for reading 💚

[gen4grl]

from artistic mental breakdown to 5 wips simultaneously lmao

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

One Piece Fighting Game AU

this au is inpired by the song Heart Attack by Chuu

hope you enjoy the designs i created most of them in a 2 hr long manic episode of just nonstop designing.

there is more to come with this au im super excited to show you guys :)

some lore ive cooked up for it and design explainations:

preface: sorry this is so much writing and im not going to grammar check it cuz aint no body got time for that.

The world of this au is like pokemon with different gyms you can fight through and beat, there's a big league of pro fighters, and there are schools for teaching you to be a better fighter.

The school our main cast goes to is called the Doki-Doki Battle Academy and it's principle is currently Crocodile. It's previous principle was Nefertari Cobra, but maybe something nefarious happened to give crocodile the spot who knowwsssss~

Doki-Doki Battle Academy (DDBA) hosts many tournaments in their school stadium throughout the school year. The tournies act as tests for the students who are taking that field of study. There are other fields the school offers though, such as weapon crafting, medical staffing, and managing. Though, if the students in those fields with so learn fighting on the side that is also accepted.

In the Pro Fighting world, there are typically pro-league teams such as the Red Hairs and The Beasts. These teams have different levels to it such as Little Leagues (for younger fighters), Minor leagues (for adults on a regional level), and Major leagues (for profighting at a national level). You can also go solo though, much like Mihawk does.

The power system in this AU is pretty simple, different color of auras do different things, but the complexities happen when you start using the different auras in tandem. I might explain it more in depth in a different post, but i dont really know what to explain about it. mostly because i dont know everything about it, myself, yet lol

-----design talk now yippeeee-----

Luffy: i tried to make him very simple protagonist vibes, play into the genre a bit. i incorporated hearts into his design in his hat, his shirt, his arm bands, and his pants poofies. His hat was given him as a sign of love, his shirt is from his school and he loves his school, his arm bands are on his arms and he uses his arms to show his love by fighting or by hugging, and his pants arent scuffed or anything so the heart puffs on his knees protects them from getting damaged (his love protects him)

Sabo: Tried to give him a more mysterious vibe with that peacoat and hat that shadows his face. I incorporated hearts into his design in his eyepatch, his vest buttons, and his boots. His heart eyepatch covers up that nasty scar, so he's distracting himself from his past pain by focusing on his love, the buttons on his vest/hearts on his boots are more or less hidden most of the time so he tends to hide his love but when he lets his guard down (when the boot is rolled down) you can see his love plainly.

Ace: Now, i dont know if Ace will die in this au or not, but in canon, he expresses his love through his torso area, i.e. tattoo on his arm and back and also that Certain Moment, so thats where i put a big ol' heart on him. His pants are also ripped in a shape of a heart but its kinda hard to see, but its meant to symbolize how the damage he takes is his love.

Nami: All the orange in her design is in heart shapes or the shapes of tangerines, thats where her love is. I also made nami's staff a curtain rod. She uses the rod to produce wind when she summons water and then manipulates it to heat it up or cool it down. i tried to add little details like that and the bandages on her torso to show that although she's outwardly clean, she's still scrappy. Nami is in the managerial pathway at the DDBA.

Zoro: I didnt make him quite as bright or vibrant as the others, i kinda just tried to make him Just A Guy. Except for his Swords. His Swords are special, so theyre bright and saturated. I roughed him up, a bit, not too much. i made his varsity jacket be ripped open so it looks like the heart on the front was broken because zoro is very broken hearted.

Sanji: I made him look like a wannabe princely character. Very cheesy, gaudy charm. I made the hearts of his design (on his boots) look like they're sewn up. So at some point his heart was broken, but he's healing them by stitching them up with love.

Robin: The hearts in her design are hard to make out because she is hiding her love. The pink of her lacey undershirt is where the heart is and its being protected by a dark over layer. The many belts in her design, however, are meant to look like shatters in that protective layer. This is meant to represent how even though she's strongly protecting herself, that strength is still weak without any outside help. Robin uses her multiplication abilities to simply multiply the shape of her arms like how she does in canon.

Chopper: His hearts are on his viles and his hat, love was given to him when he was given that hat, and he shows his love by making his healing potions. On another note though, chopper is a Transtormationalist, which is basically the zoan fruits of this world. His model is the Reindeer and his body has naturally started morphing into that form, too. Chopper is in the medical program at the DDBA

Usopp: Usopp's hearts on his pants patches signifies the new loves he’s accepted into his once lonely life. He fights with his sling shot and his ammo is seeds he's found savaging through forests or just growing himself. the white and grey auras he commands lessen the air resistance of his projectiles and makes them go a lot faster, and once they hit their target, he makes the plant grow super quickly, like how it does in canon post-ts.

Franky: Franky's hearts are everywhere and they're bright. he doesn't hide his love and he's built love for himself to wear on his person. Franky is one of the weapon masters at the school and he's a SUUUUPER cool teacher.

Brook: the hearts in his design are his Afro and his bag. I think i read somewhere that brook has kept his Afro so that Laboon can recognize him when he sees him again and that is just so loving to me so his Afro is in the shape of a heart. His bag is also in the shape of a heart, but the bag is being weighed down by whatever he's carrying inside of it, signifying the burden of the love he carries.

Jinbei: Jinbei is a Transtormationalist, Model: Whale Shark. the heart in his design is the tattoo on his chest for his old team. He's the driver of Luffy's bus and if you do enough dialogue options with him instead of skipping the bus cut-scenes, you get the option to battle Jinbei. If you do, he takes off his jacket revealing the pro-league he used to be in and then he decimates you. it is impossible to win the battle.

Koala: the colors i used for her are peachy colors, signifying what a peach she is :)))) her goggles and the buttons on her suspenders are the hearts on her design, signifying how her love is looking out for others and how love keeps herself up.

Vivi: Her hair is a big ol heart but its upsidedow, signifying how the love she feels often makes her look at things incorrectly. Also the rips in her tights are hearts, much like ace's are. the damage she takes is how she shows her love.

Crocodile: his hook is a heart, he loves fighting. i like the idea that when a student needs a text book and and asks him for one, he gives it to them by spearing a hole through one he has in his coat and handing it to the student who has to just live with a textbook with a big-ass hole through it.

Perona: the hearts in her design are on her sleeves and on her hat. The joke about the sleeves is that she wears her heart on her sleeves. but the hat, its meant to look like more or less a cage for the heart, her love is what traps her.

Mihawk: his hearts are on his weapons, he fucking loves fighting.

Shanks: The hearts in his design are only on his torso area, the locket around his neck and the deep unbuttoned shirt makes it look like there's a heart in the negative space, and the heart patch on his jacket, the loss of his arm and the lack of something there is symbolic for the love he has given.

imma be real, i didnt put that much thought in the heart positionings for yamato buggy or law. I kinda was swept up in Hot Man, Pathetic Man, and Hot Pathetic Man.

Uta: she's based off of Cupid, so she doesn't have any hearts really in her design but her whole persona is based off of a symbol of love and how it can turn malicious.

also in general, the shines on people's hair are meant to look like a heart-rate monitor's peaks and troughs. And the shading i did just by drawing all the shading then desaturating that area

WOWEE that's a lot of designing wtf was i on when i did all this.

if you got to the end, thank you so very much for reading! i hope you enjoyed my ramblings :)

again, there is more to come with this AU so Stay Tuned, Folks!!!!!!!!!!

[bigbuffjoonie]

THIS FIC WAS AMAZING YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE SORRY FOR!! I’M HAPPY TO READ ANYTHING YOU WRITE AND I AM HAPPY TO WAIT ANYTIME TO BE GRACED WITH YOUR WORKS OKAY!!!!

Awake? | Jin x Reader

Pairing: (Soft-ish) Yandere Android Jin x  Reader 

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Stalking (technically), Murder, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jin), Choking (Not by Jin), Slapping (Not By Jin)

Note: This is based on the Playstation game Detroit Become Human

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: Androids had always been incredibly efficient, that was their designed purpose after all, to make human life easier. And because of that, humans often chose the easier option. The human population had fallen to its lowest numbers in centuries and it was predicted that it would fall even more. Synthetic love was far more appealing than its organic counterpart. You could have anyone you wanted, they could look however you wanted, they would always be agreeable and it was achievable for a cost. 

A/N: A fair warning as always, this is not yet edited lol. I always feel so bad that I make you guys wait so long for a fic so I roll it out as quickly as possible. I don’t really anticipate this doing very well for a few reasons, but mainly because it’s so far from anything I’ve written before. Hopefully, some of you will enjoy it, and if you don’t I’m sorry I made you wait so long for something you didn’t want 😭 Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and the comments, love you 💜💜💜

This fic is dedicated to @softie00 thank you so much for your encouragement, kindness, and help with making this work come to fruition 💜

The world was almost nothing like it had been before. 

As a child, your grandparents had delivered you stories that were nothing more than fairytales to you. A world where trees enveloped the land in massive waves of emerald green that rivaled that of the ocean. It was a place where if you were quiet, patient, and lucky enough you could spot a family of deer grazing in your backyard. They spun tales of endless days of summer spent barefoot running through the grass while catching fireflies - something you had never seen outside of an image. 

The world that they knew had died a long time ago. It was their grandparents that had started it, and it was their generation that had finished it. 

What had once been a quiet suburban community was now dwarfed by hulking shapes of concrete, metal and glass. Artificial had taken over. What greenery was left was preserved, but no human civilian had been granted the right to step foot on that land, those small pockets that remained were left untouched and uninhabited by your kind. 

It wasn’t just your community that had become a city, a community that you had not been alive to remember, but everywhere else as well.

And it was because of the androids. 

The first one that had been revealed had shocked the entire world because of its human likeness - it was so perfect that even the trained eye was unable to decipher whether it was man or machine. And then suddenly the world was flooded with them. Factories began sprouting like uncontrollable weeds and around them grew cities that tore up the earth and cemented their place. The world had become a concrete jungle. 

Androids quickly began to multiply, their numbers rivaling even that of the human population. But they were much easier to spot now. Their programming had been changed to help with that, their mannerisms a bit more formal, their voices slightly stilted, and upon their temple was a small LED disk that symbolized their status. 

Androids had always been incredibly efficient, that was their designed purpose after all, to make human life easier. And because of that, humans often chose the easier option. The human population had fallen to its lowest numbers in centuries and it was predicted that it would fall even more. Synthetic love was far more appealing than its organic counterpart. You could have anyone you wanted, they could look however you wanted, they would always be agreeable and it was achievable for a cost. 

But not everyone could afford their own personal android, the basic models still being priced at around $8,000 and those androids were just for helping around the house. So the comfort industry boomed. Love hotels soon followed, places where you could rent an android for pleasure and have their memory bank wiped immediately after. Human interaction was no longer a necessary requirement but an option. 

And you, well, you couldn’t consider yourself all that much better. 

You wearily blinked, your eyes stinging from the bright LED light that hung above you. You huddled beneath your umbrella for protection from the thick torrents of rain as the sign flickered gently. 

“Awake?” The sign read, as if it were taunting you. 

A long string of nights filled with insomnia had led you to this point, pathetically drenched in rain as you stood outside of an android establishment. The comfort industry extended to all areas, not just pleasure. 

You hesitantly stepped through the sliding doors and were greeted by a dimly lit lobby. It was completely devoid of human life, but several androids were there attending to seemingly unnecessary tasks like dusting an already clean surface or straightening an unused pillow on one of the lounges. 

You hurriedly rushed by them, not wanting to garner too much attention as you already felt pretty pathetic about your situation. As soon as you stopped at the front desk, the android behind it greeted you. 

“Hello, my name is Celene, are you interested in our cuddle-bot service tonight?” She asked with a gentle smile. 

You cringed at the name, your finger digging into your palm in a show of anxiety as you forced a pleasant smile. It wasn’t the androids’ fault that some human had come up with such a belittling name for their service. 

“Yes, please,” You mumbled in response. 

“Alright, I’d be happy to get you started,” She grinned, her LED spinning yellow as she processed your command, “If you look at the screen to your right you can customize your visit. You can pick your android model, appearance, sex, duration of stay, and tailor your experience that will best help you achieve your desired goal for your visit. If you have any questions, I would be happy to help.” 

A glass screen beside you lit up revealing several multiple choice questions that you could answer such as: what is the reason for your visit? How long has this problem persisted? What do you find comforting? What scents do you prefer? So on and so forth. 

The questionnaire wasn’t exhaustive but it was not short by any means. But the quality of the service so far had begun to ignite some hope within you. This was the only other option you could think of to deal with your insomnia, you felt as if you had exhausted all other options. 

There was one section in particular that grabbed your attention, the final section titled “Scenario.”

“Celene, what does ‘Scenario,” mean?” You asked. 

“Scenario allows you to further customize your experience by enhancing the personality of your chosen android. It is similar to role-playing. We have a few options available. The boyfriend or girlfriend scenario will have a much more intimate approach whereas the caregiver scenario has a familial or parental approach, to name a few.” 

You pursed your lips in thought as you scrolled through the scenarios, pretending as if you hadn’t already chosen yours the second Celene has mentioned it. To put it lightly, you were just as starved of affection as you were of sleep. The whole debacle of synthetic versus organic love had affected your generation the hardest. The dating pool was halved by the presence of androids and as a result you had never dated anyone before.

But still, you read each scenario title before ultimately scrolling back and picking the one that you wanted: “Boyfriend Scenario.” 

The screen flashed, processing your commands, before switching to the last page. It was time to choose your android. The selection was surprisingly wide, but of course all androids fell in the same age bracket; all appearing youthful and beautiful so beautiful that it was almost uncanny. 

You bit your lip and furrowed your brows in thought as you swiped through all of the selections. There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with them, but you also didn’t know what exactly it was you were looking for. 

“May I make a suggestion, miss?” Celene asked, causing you to jump as you had forgotten her presence. “A new line has been released for testing, if you choose an android from that new model you will receive a discount for participating in the trial period.” 

While the service wasn’t too expensive, it was still money being taken away from your daily expenses and unfortunately you were never one to walk away from a good deal. That was something your mother had instilled in you with great success. 

And so, you agreed. Celene’s LED spun yellow once more before the page before you was filled with seven new images of androids. All of them had face molds you hadn’t seen before, each with their own charm and subtle imperfections that only served to make them more attractive and more human-like. But there was one in particular that caught your eye. 

There was something about him that gave you the feeling of a person you could pretend you were in a long-term relationship with. He had the boyfriend look to him. Maybe it was his longer slightly curly brown hair, his big brown eyes, or even his plush pouty lips. There was something about him that comforted you, something that felt like coming back to your warm bed on a cold rainy day. 

With a simple touch of your fingertip it was decided. 

“That one is a wonderful choice, it will be sure to help you get a good night’s sleep,” Celene nodded before smoothly rounding the desk, “If you follow me I will lead you to your room.” 

You followed Celene like a lost puppy, keeping close to her as she led you into the back of the building and through various hallways. The rest of the building was similar to the entrance. It was all lit with a soft yellow light that reflected off of the polished surfaces. But it was also eerily empty. You could only assume it was because everyone else had checked in much earlier than you had. That thought was far more comforting than the idea of being the only human being in the entire building. 

All of the hallways were lined with doors, there were so many that it almost seemed never ending. But maybe that was your insomnia laced brain playing tricks on you. After a short while Celene stopped in front of one door in particular that appeared no different or special from any of the other ones you had passed. 

“This door will only open with your fingerprint or in the case of an emergency during your stay. If there is anything you need your android can contact the front desk and I can prepare it for you. We hope that you enjoy your stay.” 

“Thank you, Celene,” You said with a slight jerk of your head and a tight lipped smile. 

“It is my pleasure,” She said before returning your smile and taking her leave. 

Once she disappeared around the corner you allowed yourself to let out a deep exhale, your shoulders relaxing as you were left alone. You were exhausted but you were also incredibly nervous. You were sure this was going to be awkward at first, there was nothing normal about cuddling someone the first time you met them. Although, he was probably used to it. He wasn’t human after all, he didn’t have those types of feelings or any at all really. 

So, with a swift crack of your neck, you pressed your thumb against the door plate and stepped inside once it slid open. 

The room was rather plain. Everything was white, gray, or a soft beige color and the furniture was very minimal. There was a comfortable looking bed, a decent sized couch, and some cushioned mats on the floor on the lower split level of the room. You could only assume it was to give you the option to choose what was most comfortable. 

You noticed that the walls were also screens. Some of them looked like they were disguised as windows, but with a close inspection you realized that they were simulation screens. You could choose the environment you wished to view. 

And, outside of those main features, he was there. 

When you had entered he was sitting on the ground, on the edge of the split level platform staring at the blank screens. But he was looking at you now, his head turned to look over his shoulder towards you. 

While the other androids you had met seemed human, he was the most human looking one you had ever seen. The smile that spread over his lips was infectious as he rose to greet you. 

“You’re home! But look at you, you’re completely soaked,” He tutted, pulling off your rain jacket and rushing to hang it up. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day, have you eaten?”

It took you a moment to respond, still taken aback by his fluid motions and manner of speaking. He was unlike any android you had ever met, that was for sure. He just seemed so unlike them. 

“Hello? Is anyone home?” He teased you, tapping you gently on the top of your head, “You must have had a long day if that was a hard question.”

“I ate,” You finally said, your fingers playing with one another awkwardly. 

“That’s good to hear, I’m very proud of you.” He said, smoothing out the locks of your hair his impish actions had disrupted. 

You couldn’t deny the warmth that flushed through your body from his praise. The older you got the less often you heard that someone was proud of you. And it was much more special when someone that looked the way he did told you that. 

“What’s your name?” You asked. 

His face twitched slightly, the lenses of his pupils dilating and contracting as his LED spun yellow. The pleasant smile dropped off of his face and it went stoic, like his programming was momentarily paused as he processed a dialogue that didn’t quite fit. It was chilling to see someone who once appeared so human drop their persona and show their hidden nature. It was another reminder that none of this was real. 

“What would you like to call me?” He finally asked, his expression still flat and devoid of simulated emotion. 

You were stumped for a moment and unnerved by his unblinking stare that refused to leave you. In a moment of panic you uttered the first male name that came to your mind, the name of a boy that you had a crush on in high school that never noticed you. 

“Jin? Is that okay, do you like that?” 

“My name is Jin,”  His LED spun blue, his eyes finally blinking once more as his subtle pleasant smile returned, “Silly girl, we’ve been together for so long and you can’t remember my name? If I didn’t think you were tired before, I definitely do now.” 

“Right, I’m sorry about that,” You apologized, it seemed like going along with it was the best answer you could come up with. 

“Come on sleepy girl, let’s get you ready for bed,” He hummed while grabbing you by the wrist and guiding you towards the bathroom where a set of comfortable looking sleepwear was laid out. “Take your time, I’ll be right outside.” 

Once the door closed and you were left alone you were able to relax for a moment. The tension in your shoulders wasn’t entirely from anxiety but now a result of the interest and excitement you couldn’t deny you had. While Jin had slipped up for a moment, when he was working as designed he was perfect. He wasn’t clingy but he also wasn’t distant. He was teasing but not hurtful, and he knew how to praise you. 

You were beginning to realize that there was some truth to what the others believed, androids could be easier. 

When you had finally changed and emerged from the bathroom you could see that Jin had been keeping himself busy in your absence. The lighting in the room had shifted, it had become dimmer and much more soothing. There was a scent in the air as well, one you recognized as what you had answered in your survey not that long ago. 

The android himself was pulling the blankets and sheets back from the bed, preparing it for you and you assumed himself as well. 

“There you are,” He said, pausing his work to cross the room, “I have everything ready, would you like to pick the environment tonight?” 

You gingerly retrieved the remote from his hands and swiftly scrolled through the options before picking your tried and true classic and floating it up on the simulation screens. The floor to ceiling windows that previously appeared to have their blinds closed were now open revealing a murky city skyline with soft lights accompanied by rain and thunder. It was not unlike the actual weather you had fought through to get there. 

“Hm, I think that’s everything then. Are you ready for bed?” He asked. 

“Let’s give it a try,” You said with a nod. 

Jin moved before you did, climbing into the bed easily and fluffing up the pillows behind him before looking up at you expectantly. 

God, this was so weird. 

You stiffly climbed in beside him and sank down into the mattress, allowing him to pull the blankets up over the both of you. You were closer to the edge of the mattress, purposefully trying to keep as much space between the two of you as possible despite paying for the opposite. You hadn’t shared a bed with someone since you were young and it had never been someone of the opposite gender. And while Jin wasn’t human, he still looked like a man and that was cause for some hesitance and shyness. 

Jin being the perfect android that he was quickly took notice of this. Instead of saying anything he raised his arm, opening up his chest to you while simultaneously pitching the blanket up. Quietly and slowly you shuffled across the mattress and allowed him to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest. 

You were momentarily startled by the discovery that he was warm and soft beneath your fingers like a real human body. And, even more surprisingly, there was a solid thump emanating from his chest right where your ear was pressed against. Androids operated on a fluid system, this meant that his pump had been placed in his chest much like a human heart. Whoever made him had done so with intricate detail and care to make him blend in as seamlessly as possible. The only thing that reminded you of his nature was the steady, soft blue swirl of his LED. 

“What are you thinking about?” He finally asked, his fingers now gently stroking a pattern across your cheek and up over your temple. It was repetitive, light, and evidently soothing as it spurred a yawn from you that was rather surprising. 

“This isn’t as scary as I thought it would be,” You admitted. That was partially the truth, but you thought it better you didn’t instill an existential crisis into the android by telling him about how human he seemed. 

“Why would sleeping with your boyfriend be scary?” The android chuckled. 

“Don’t say it like that!” You groaned, pressing your face further into his chest in utter embarrassment. 

The android hummed in response, curling his arms around you in a firmer hold, the compression soothing you as well as your anxiety. He seemed pleased with himself, like it had been his plan to embarrass you into his embrace. 

“There’s no reason to be scared of me, I’m here to take care of you,” He explained, smoothing his palm up and down your back in gentle strokes.

“That’s not what I was worried about.” 

“No? What were you worried about then?” 

“That this wouldn’t work.” 

A beat of silence followed but the android didn’t cease his soothing actions. You could tell from the gentle yellow glow from his temple that he was thoroughly processing your words. 

“You haven’t been able to sleep in a long time?” He finally asked. 

“No, not for a very long while.” 

“Can I ask why?” 

“It’s too quiet in my apartment. It’s just me and the loneliness sometimes becomes too much. Sometimes I go so many days alone that when I finally do see other people my voice doesn’t sound like my own and it hurts to talk. But I don’t even know anyone well enough to tell them about my life, my problems, or how I’m doing. And then by the time I get home and I finally lay down all of those thoughts become so loud in my head that sleep becomes impossible. And then I worry. I think about everything that bothers me. Every deadline, every irrational fear. It scares me so badly that sleep no longer becomes a possibility.” 

You’re utterly surprised by the word vomit that flies out of your mouth. You never expected that you would divulge all of your fears to an android that you just met. But Jin was good, he was amazing at comforting and as a result pulling out any information that he needed to comfort you better. 

“You’re not alone now though, are you?” 

“...No.” 

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of. You can close your eyes and I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll make sure that you’re safe and I’ll be here when you wake up.” He says, his voice softer now. “I’ll take care of you.” 

It felt like you had been adrift in the ever growing expanse of space. Like you had been dragged into the void without a single spot of starlight. It was terribly cold, dark, and lonely. It was terrifying. But now, it’s warm. Where you had once been adrift you were now anchored. And it wasn’t so lonely anymore. 

You could feel your eyes tiring, it was becoming harder to keep them open each time you blinked. This was unfamiliar and startling, but the gentle touch of your android soothed you. You weren’t alone, it was safe to sleep. 

“It’s okay, don’t fight it. I’ll look after you,” Jin whispered, his soft lips brushing over your forehead in a barely there kiss. 

And, as if he had given you permission, you allowed your eyes to fall shut and felt the soft lull of sleep pull you under. 

~~~~~~~

Androids were not meant to think. They were not created to care, but to serve. Unfortunately for him, he was made with the purpose to fulfill both of those things. To serve, and to care. But not to be human. 

That very idea itself was flawed. 

It was easy to follow protocol, to monitor your respiration, your heart rate, and your REM cycle. But it was harder to formulate a way to care for you. That required abstraction and abstraction is a very human thing. 

Jin, as you had called him although he had had many different names, knew that he was different from the other androids he had encountered. They lacked dimension, they were computers with bodies, and he was something else entirely. But he was a being still bound by code and design. It was difficult to put a label as to what he was. 

And with you, that label became even harder to define. He had a database full of information about human interaction and physical touch, yet his programming was stumped by you. You were unnecessarily kind, you didn’t call him “it,” and you didn’t demand anything of him. You were unlike the other patrons he had cared for before. You treated him like he was human and that was something he had never experienced before. 

It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t logical. 

He found himself staring at you now, your cheek flush with his chest and your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like you were anchoring yourself to him - afraid that he would leave you as you dreamt. You were by no means perfect, he had never met someone who looked perfect when they were unconscious, but you were by all means adorable. If he were human, he could say that he liked you, that he enjoyed your presence. 

But he wasn’t human, and this was his purpose. Nothing more, nothing less. That was what his programming demanded. 

And even though he knew that to be true, even though he knew that you were asleep and no longer required comforting, there was something else inside him that drove him to subconsciously cup your face with one hand and gently stroke the skin there. 

He could blame it once again on his programming, afterall the boyfriend experience protocol was driving his shell of a body, but there was this thrum inside of him. This feeling like he was trapped behind a glass wall and on the verge of breaking through it and finally taking control of his body. 

It was wrong.

He was aware of the others that he was dangerously close to becoming like. Androids who were infected, ridden with a virus that corrupted their code and made them operate as if they were human. It made them think that they could feel. They were glitched, turncoats, deviants. And that was a sure fire way to be decommissioned and scrapped for parts. 

But it was okay, that wouldn’t be him. He didn’t want anything, he couldn’t feel. It wasn’t anxiety that scrambled his processor, it was overstimulation from too much input. And if he could keep convincing himself that that was the truth, then he could avoid being decommissioned. He could keep seeing you. 

You. 

You were still asleep, blissfully unaware of the android at your side whose “mind” was racing. You didn’t need him right now, he didn’t need to be on still. And so, in an effort to quiet himself, he entered sleep mode. 

This was the closest he would get to being human. This was the closest he would get to you. And from the outside, it certainly did look like two human lovers entwined, coming back to one another after a long day apart. 

He too could pretend. 

~~~~~~~

When you woke up he was still there, just like he had promised you. His warm touch was still there, cocooning you in a perfect embrace. He was awake, if that was what you could call it. There was a soft smile gracing his lips as he looked down at you, the still rising sun making his synthetic skin glow. 

“How did you sleep?” He spoke first. 

You blinked slowly, trying to shake the clinging threads of sleep from you before you could speak. And, as you fully woke up, you realized with a start that you had slept through the entire night. A task that had been so hard for so many years had been easily managed by him. 

“I’ve never slept better,” You admitted with a gentle smile of your own. 

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart,” He said, the new term of endearment sending warmth throughout your body, “Do you really have to go to work today?” 

Still in character, he was able to remind you of the impending end of your session. 

“You could stay, just for a little longer if you wanted to. We could have the rest of the morning to ourselves.” 

“I really wish I could, but I have to go.” 

A look of disappointment and sadness washed over his face and for a brief moment you could have sworn despair flickered over his features before an unsettling stoicness masked those simulated emotions. It was like his program was forcibly shut down. There was something upsetting about seeing him be filed away, about seeing Jin removed and the android returned. 

You readied yourself for the day in silence, your body tense as you worried over Jin. It was clear that he wasn’t there anymore. His programming had been terminated when you declined to lengthen your session. You couldn’t understand the instant connection you felt with him, you could only chalk it up to the lack of attention and affection you had felt in your life. The comfort he had brought you, the gentle touches, the soothing smiles and words, it all had messed with your mind and in turn, your heart. 

You lingered at the door of the room, his room. You couldn’t help but look back at him sadly. He was seated back where you had seen him for the first time the night before, on the ledge leading to the bottom split level. His back was facing you, you were unable to make out his expression but you were certain it was flat. Just a machine waiting for further instruction. 

You hesitated, then swallowed, “Jin?” 

He didn’t move. 

“Will you…will you remember this? Me? At all?” You asked. 

“Company policy dictates that the service androids memory banks be wiped within fifteen minutes of the end of the session in order to protect the privacy of the client.” He replied, his voice flat. 

Your heart fell into your stomach. 

You slowly approached him before sitting down beside him on his step. His gaze remained trained ahead of him, staring at a blank simulation screen.

“There isn’t a way that you can remember me?”

Silence. 

“Jin?” His chin slightly jerked this time, something so subtle it could have been a muscle twitch if he were human. 

“If the client were to make follow up sessions the data would be maintained and preserved. That of course comes with additional expenses.” 

You pursed your lips in thought, your brows drawn together in concentration. It was easy to make a decision based on your emotions. Selfishly, you wanted him to remember you. You didn’t want him to forget about you like he had countless others. You didn’t want to be like the others. 

You wanted to be special. 

There was also the fact that you knew just a taste of what he had to offer would never be enough. Now that you knew he could help you, could give you the affection you were starved of, you wanted to keep him. It was a sound investment, it was a necessity. You needed him. 

You let out a shaky breath and acted quickly before you could change your mind. You leaned forward and gently pressed a quick, shy kiss to his warm cheek. The android jerked in what could only be described as surprise before finally looking at you. The lenses of his eyes dilated and then shrunk in a fraction of a second. He was seeing you, really seeing you. 

You left quickly after that, far too flustered to look at his beautiful face any longer after what you had done. That, and you had several more sessions to book in advance. 

But, if you had lingered for a moment as the door swung shut you would have noticed the flash of emerald green that filled the room, the subtle chirp of wildlife, and the gentle thrum of thunder and light patter of rain. 

The screens displayed a forest you hadn’t chosen.

~~~~~~~

He remembered you. And while that was good, that was also part of the problem.

He hated having other clients. And while there weren’t too many, there were enough that it bothered him. He often found himself replaying his stored memories of his time spent with you when he should have been monitoring his clients. It was a dangerous thing to do, if he was found out his memory would definitely be wiped for interfering with his service. 

But the more time he spent with you, the harder it was to remind himself that he shouldn’t feel or think anything. He was parts, a computer, strings of ones and zeroes, he shouldn’t think or feel anything. 

He didn’t want to be decommissioned - he didn’t want to die. But he also didn’t want to let go of you. That was no longer an option. 

He knew you could see it too, you could see him slowly becoming human. And you did everything but discourage him. You asked him how his day was, what he did while he waited for you, what his favorite color was, what his favorite song was - questions no human had ever bothered to ask him before. And scarily enough he found he did have preferences which he shouldn’t have had in the first place. His favorite song was your favorite song, his favorite color was the color of your eyes, and all he ever thought about while he waited was you. 

He had never wanted anything before, he never had desire. But now, he truly desired you. What he would give to keep you there with him, or better yet to come home with you. Then he could have you all to himself and he wouldn’t have to tend to other clients. 

In the beginning, his program demanded that he treat you like his “girlfriend.” But at this point, he wasn’t sure where protocol began and his desires ended. 

Even now as his new client entered the room he replayed his memories of you, the simulation screen alive with the forest. He was remembering the last time he had seen you, just another one of your many visits. 

You had looked healthier than he had ever seen you. The tired, sickly look on your face had long ago disappeared and the slouch of your shoulders was replaced with confidence. He felt satisfied that he had done his job well, but he was far more satisfied with the knowledge that you were happier because of him. 

“Welcome home, did you have a good day?” He asked with genuine interest. 

“It was good enough, what about you?”

“It was good because I knew I would see you.” He said with a grin and a dramatic wink. 

“I just got here and you’re already starting with me.” You rolled your eyes, a display of just how comfortable you had become around him. 

“I can’t help it, you’re cute when you're flustered.” 

“Alright, I’m leaving,” You teased, turning dramatically and shrugging your jacket back on. 

The LED on his temple spun yellow, his hands trembled. His body moved without thinking and he quickly grabbed hold of your arm. You were startled, he could tell by your wide eyed, confused expression. 

“No, don’t go.” He begged, his voice sounded breathless and even frightened. 

You had spent many sessions with the android, and not once had you ever detected fear in his voice. You didn’t even think it was possible, what purpose would that have in his programming? 

Once more, you were reminded of just how human the android seemed. There was a nagging suspicion in the back of your mind, an article you had read, a news story you had heard in passing about androids like him. But you didn’t want to admit that there was anything wrong with him, not when he had helped you more than he could possibly know. 

“I’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.” 

That seemed to calm him down, his hold on your arm loosening but not leaving. If you didn’t know any better you would think that he looked self conscious, anxious even, like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. 

That night, you cared for him instead. 

There was a random moving playing in the background, the lights were dimmed, and the simulation screens were drawn shut. Your back was resting against the headboard of the bed while the android laid his head on your lap, his legs curled up and his arm wrapped around your thighs. Your fingers were mindlessly sifting through his hair, twirling the longer strands towards the bottom. His eyes had fluttered shut and his LED was thrumming a soft blue. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was asleep. 

Your heart shuddered as you stared at him, it wasn’t the first time that you had thought about how beautiful he was. He was everything you had ever wanted. He was funny, sweet, caring, and he made you feel as if you were perfect. You had never felt like that before. All your life you had been compared to the female modeled androids that were readily available. They were stunning, they always smiled, they were nurturing, and they always obeyed - they never disagreed. 

But you also realized that you were no better than the men you had been surrounded by. Because here you were, finding comfort in an android instead of a “real” man. At the end of the day, you were paying for company. Jin only remembered you because he had to, it was his purpose. You weren’t special, you wanted to be, but you weren’t. 

At that moment, you made a difficult decision. It was going to be your last night with Jin. You were human, he was an android. There was no future in that. You couldn’t keep coming back to him for the rest of your life, wasting away because you were a sad, lonely human who couldn’t find companionship with your own kind. If you didn’t end it soon then you never would. 

You could feel your eyes burning with unshed tears as you traced the gentle contours of his face. You hadn’t intended to lie to him but you were going to have to leave him. You need to learn how to live your own life. 

“Jin?” You whispered, your voice cracking from barely concealed emotion. 

He slowly opened his eyes as he rolled over on your lap to face you, his big brown eyes staring up at you.

“Can I kiss you?” 

The pump in his chest quickened, an occurrence which he could not explain. He had clients order him to do that before, if it comforted and helped them he was required to do it. But no one had ever asked him, he had always been ordered. 

His LED was spinning rapidly, the bright yellow hue flashing in the darkness. He was processing, thinking over everything quickly. Instead of saying anything, he propped himself up on his elbow and gently took hold of your jaw before leaning in and connecting your lips with his own. 

It was soft, warm, and sweet. Everything that you had expected it to be. But his gentle touches broke your heart, how were you supposed to leave when you had grown to care about him so much? It was hard to remember that he was a machine when his lips felt so gentle and warm, when his touch cooled your burning skin, and his strong hands pulled you into his lap. It felt like he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 

But you knew better, it was his programming, he had to satisfy his client. That was why you refused to let it go any further and that was why you knew you wouldn’t be coming to your next session. 

You weren’t special. 

“Is this it then?” His current client huffed, stalling his memory as well as the swipe of his finger over his lower lip as he remembered your shy, hesitant kiss. 

His client had been huffing and puffing for the past fifteen minutes, tossing and turning on her side - your side - of the bed in an attempt to garner his attention. He was failing to serve his purpose. 

“Is something wrong?” He finally asked, giving her the attention she desired. 

“I’m bored and unsatisfied. I paid all of this money just to lay here while you do nothing.” She grunted. 

“Is there anything I can do to help improve your experience?” His programming took over. 

A sudden look overcame her features, one that he couldn’t decipher but also knew he shouldn’t like. She tossed the blankets aside and crawled over to him, slinging her leg over his and climbing into his lap. He tensed beneath her touch, confused as to what she was doing. 

“If I’m paying all of this money for you, I figure I should get my time well spent,” She explained, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. 

His LED spun yellow, he didn’t like this. He didn’t want this, this wasn’t what his purpose was. 

“My purpose is to help you sleep -” 

“Then help me by tiring me out. You’re telling me people pay just to sleep here? That’s a load of crap. You’re no better than the bots at the fucking Eden Club.” She sneered. 

The Eden Club, that was the “love hotel” in the seedier parts of the city. If she wanted that type of comfort she could have gone there. 

“My purpose is -” 

“Shut the fuck up!” She snapped, bringing her hand down across his face in one clean slap that snapped his head to the side. 

It didn’t hurt, he didn’t have pain sensors, but it was surprising. It was scary. 

“I’m sick and tired of your fucking mouth,” She hissed. 

And then she was wrapping her hand around his throat, squeezing hard and pinning him down. He didn’t need to breathe, it didn’t hurt even though her nails had sliced through his synthetic skin and blue blood was rolling down his throat. 

It didn’t hurt, he didn’t need to breathe, but he didn’t like it, he was scared.

He was scared. 

He wanted to fight back, he wanted to throw her off and run but he couldn’t. He was locked down, his programming reminding him of the number one rule: never harm a human. 

But his processor was scrambling. The room was green from the simulation screens, wild life chirped, she was tugging at his clothes, his blood was gliding down his neck, he couldn’t fucking move, and then there was you. 

You. He didn’t want anyone to touch him, except for you. 

It felt like he was throwing himself against solid glass - spider cracks slowly but surely spreading along its surface with each violent attack until it finally shattered and fell apart. And he could move. 

He ripped her hand off of his throat and threw her off the bed, her body colliding so harshly with the hardwood floors that she rolled and cried out in pain. 

His LED was a striking, vibrant red that pulsed in the dark. The fight for freedom was violent, and that was ensured when he grabbed hold of the lamp off of the night stand and connected it with her head over and over again until she couldn’t think or feel anything any more. Just like a machine. 

Her red blood pooled onto the floor, soaking into the wood and everything it touched. He could see it all over his white shirt - feel the stickiness of it all over his hands, forearms, and face. 

He was awake. 

But as he felt immense relief, he also felt frightened. He was feeling everything all at once - happiness, anger, disgust, and fear. He had violated his prime directive. In his first moments of freedom he had killed a human being. And while the feeling of her blood on his skin disgusted him and sent unpleasant chills through his wiring he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. She was disgusting. 

But he was panicking at the thought of his impending decommissioning. So he ran, he tore out of the building he had been in his entire life and took to the dark city streets. He already knew where he was going, he had pulled up your client profile from his data banks the minute he had stepped outside. He knew where you lived, had known this entire time, but now he was able to fulfill his wish. Finally, he would be the one coming home to you. 

He could see your window of your apartment, the light was still on. Of course it was, you couldn’t sleep without him - you needed him just as much as he needed you. You were meant for each other. You needed to be taken care of and it was his job to take care of you. Even with his freedom he could see that goal flashing in his visual pathways - “Comfort your partner.” 

He pounded on your door in rapid succession, not stopping until he heard your light footsteps approach and the door creaked open. You barely opened it a crack but that was enough for him to wedge his hand in between the door and its frame and force it open completely with his inhuman strength. 

You stumbled backwards with a shriek of fright, convinced that someone was breaking into your apartment only for you to be stumped by the sight of your android slamming the door shut behind him. 

“Jin? What are you doing here?” You managed to ask. To say you were surprised wasn’t even the beginning of it. 

“I’m home.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling with joy. 

“Oh - oh my god, what is that?!” You yelped, stepping away from him in fear as you finally caught sight of the blood all over his body. It was soaked into his shirt and pants, smeared over his hands and arms, and specks of it were sprayed over his face like gruesome freckles. 

You knew that didn’t belong to him, his own “blue blood” stuck out in vibrant streaks down his throat. 

“You’re scared,” He said, the smile falling from his face, “what’s wrong?” 

He took a few steps forward only for you to scramble backwards, sliding around your kitchen counter in an attempt to try and barricade yourself from him. He was painted with human blood, you didn’t want to find out how it had gotten there. 

He still didn’t understand. He hadn’t done anything wrong, well nothing wrong to you. Why were you shutting him out? He…he loved you, didn’t you love him? You had kissed him, you had comforted him. You had to love him too. 

When he got too close your eyes shifted to your bedroom door behind him and you foolishly decided to make a run for it. You didn’t make it far, the android was too fast. He easily wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back into his chest - holding you tightly as you whimpered and thrashed like a wild animal caught in a snare. 

“Comfort your partner” - his protocol still read. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He cooed, his voice soft beside your ear, “Just relax, everything is fine. I’m here, I love you.” 

His touch was leaving behind bloody handprints on your shirt and on your cheek as he cupped your face in an attempt to get you to look at him. Your body had finally fallen limp as you realized there was no fighting him. 

You had tried denying it for so long, but Jin was corrupted. He had a virus like those others you had heard about. And he was dangerous. He said that he loved you, he held you like he loved you, kissed you like he loved you, but he was a murderer. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had murdered for you. 

These were the consequences of falling in love with a machine. These were the consequences of an unnatural, artificial affection. 

“I’m home now, it’s okay, neither of us ever has to be alone ever again.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple and then your cheek. 

“Please, don’t hurt me.” You begged, a tear finally breaking free and cutting through the streak of red he had left behind on your face. 

“I would never hurt you, I want to take care of you. I want to love you.” 

He carefully scooped you up and carried you into your room, the place you had tried to escape to before was now a cage for you and your android. He climbed into your bed with you still in his grasp and proceeded to go through his usual routine of comforting you before bed. Although this time the sheets were stained red, his grip was a little too tight, and his LED was a rich red. Everything was red. 

In the most twisted way possible, you had gotten your wish. You were special. 

“It’s okay, don’t fight it. I’ll look after you,” Jin whispered, his familiar words taking on an entirely new meaning as you lost the tension in your body. Your arms that were locked out, pushing you away from him, collapsed and allowed him to pull you into his chest.

You could feel his nose pressed against your hair, his hands soothing over your back, his lips lightly pressed against your forehead. He was acting like nothing had changed, like the two of you had never left that place. Like you would be able to relax in his embrace.

Before, your room had been a part of your insomnia. Now, you were certain you would never be able to sleep again. 

Your world was almost nothing like it had been before.

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #5🖤

🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛

⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic

⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them

⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost

⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously

⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though

⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better

⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too

⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful

⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you

⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol

⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot

⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person

⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive

⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it

⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not

⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you

⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this

⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love

⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment

thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info

©rosesnbooks

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Prophecy

Viktor x You When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more. Contents: fem!reader, fluff, angst and smut all in one folks, 18+ MDNI, a few physical features described but still reader insert I think (hair colour and freckles), both Viktor and you POVs, long-ass one shot 8.1k words Taglist: @night-fall-moon @zsuzsu321 @sh1zhu @circeinspace @casualjagodek @retrokatz @am-3-thyst @xlittlemissydjx @sseleniaa @thefandomsfervent Hi guys, thanks for bearing with my while I've been working on this one!! I have been absolutely obsessed with this man ever since I finished Arcane, so I just had to write something about him! I also think a lot of people mischaracterise him, so I tried really hard to get his personality right - let me know if I actually have lol. Anyone who knows my works knows how slutty my smut can get lol, but this is actually quite tender so a new one for me too. Anyway, I'll stop waffling now, I hope you enjoy. TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

DISCLAIMER: while this, in my opinion, is still classified as an ‘x you’ fic, a few physical features are described, namely ‘you’ having burgundy red hair that is, at one point, described as curly and having freckles, alongside a handful of super vague descriptors (eg. fluttering eyelashes, slope of her nose AKA things that can be applied to any and all faces) - basically everyone in the Arcane show has cool hair so I thought this would be a cute detail. It’s possible to ignore if you don’t want to think about have a different hair colour, but if you don’t want to, don’t read it! Almost every comment on this fic has been relating to this which, when I put hours of hard work and effort into something that I was proud of, is insanely demoralising. There has always been a disclaimer in the contents above, but I’m adding it here as well so it’s as clear as possible. Dead dove do not eat and all that. And I’m always open to constructive criticism, but there’s a way to go about it, and a way that will put someone in a slump for months, so please think before you comment! Anyway, not to put a downer before the work, thank you for the reposts and loves so far ❤️

Viktor was lost in thought as he made his way back to Piltover, small tube of Shimmer tucked away in his satchel. He didn’t know what to do. Using it might stabilise the Hexcore, allowing it to keep the plants alive and accomplish everything he and Jayce had been working towards for years, maybe even curing this sickness that had taken over him, or…

Or it could end horribly.

The undercity was as dark and unpleasant as he remembered it. He had never fit in here in his youth - too scrawny, too bookish, and with his leg, he stood no chance. And now was no different.

The neon store signs stood out against the blackened buildings and muddy streets. This part of the city, deep in the underbelly of Zaun, seemed busier than the rest, roads bustling with call girls and salesmen and tourists from Topside taking their pick of unruly establishments. Hundreds of voices layered atop each other in a cacophony of harsh laughter, garish music and argumentative tones. There was barely space to walk, especially with his cane, and he was starting to wonder if this journey was even worth it.

Then something caught his eye. A flash of red, deep and vibrant, moving towards him on the far side of the lane. It was hair, bouncy and curly and his subconscious told him it was shorter than it should’ve been, but it was a colour he knew. Her face wasn’t one he could place at first, but as she got closer, he saw the freckles that smattered across her nose like a constellation, her pink lips that were perpetually curled into a soft frown, her eyes that she always accentuated with brown liner. It was her.

The only friend of his youth. A young girl who used to sit behind the foliage near the water where he tested his inventions. She was shy, even shyer than he used to be, too scared to ask him anything about what he was making for a long time, just watching with curious eyes. But he would never forget the day she moved closer. The way her long, burgundy locks flowed around her, almost touching the floor, the way she was trying her best to be confident, but there was a soft shake in her hand, and a slight stutter as she said hello. Then she produced a small invention of her own - a submarine, the same colour as her hair, designed to float perfectly so the periscope was the only thing that peeked out from the surface.

For years, they were inseparable. She was more artistic than him, always adding a flair to her designs that he didn’t have, so he’d let her ‘improve’ his too. They would play together, and then as they got older, build together, each creation more daring and experimental. And then they started to drift apart. They were in their mid teens when her mother got sick, and she couldn’t make it out as much. Viktor always offered to help, but she refused, not even allowing him to see where she lived. And so, when Professor Heimerdinger found him and offered him an opportunity to be his assistant, he couldn’t even tell her. He left a note, delicately placed under a rock where they would build together, telling her where to find him and how to get in touch, but he never heard anything.

And now here she was. He called out her name softly, not wanting to alarm her in this hostile city, but she didn’t hear. She’d walked past him now, so he turned, following but she was walking fast, faster than he could manage. He called out again, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed the headphones over her ears. She couldn’t hear a thing. He carried on, hoping she would stop but she didn’t. If it was anyone else, he would’ve gone home, given up, but now he’d caught a glimpse of her, he had to see her. To talk to her. To find out why she never got in touch. To apologise for leaving her behind.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and he panicked, thinking he’d lost her again, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, entering an alley beside a row of bars and clubs. He grimaced, following her to see the red locks just moving out of sight again, and a bouncer closing the door behind her. He tried to follow her into the building, but the man stopped him.

“Please…” he asked, out of breath, “it’s an old friend, I need to see her…”

“Staff entrance only, pal. You’ll have to go ‘round the front like everyone else.”

“But… she’s right there… I only need one moment, if she just saw me…” The words died on his lips. Would she even recognise you?

“Don’t make me ask you twice.”

It was dark inside the club, the lights low apart from on the stage and around the bar. It was only mid afternoon, but the place was near full of lowlifes just starting their evenings, sloshing their drinks and talking loudly. The neon from outside carried into this space too, strip lights around the platforms accentuating their presence. There were dancers atop each of them, but he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. This was so far from his comfort zone, loud and unruly, a long way away from his lab, but he had to see her. He couldn’t let her go again.

He found a stool by the bar, ordering a soda and waiting for her to start her shift. There was no way he could miss her again if he was right here when she started.

And then he saw her at the very edge of his vision, as though his eyes were programmed to search her out in any crowd. She was on stage, cherry red hair glowing in the soft lights, combined with the neon from below making her look like a ghost, ethereal. What was she doing up there?

***

“Afternoon, Joey.” You muttered to the bouncer, and he opened the door for you wordlessly as you slipped off your headphones, replacing your perfectly selected playlist with the sleazy music of the club. Just one of the many reasons you hated working here. You were running late, as per, throwing your things in your locker and quickly changing. Lacing up your shoes always took the longest time, and you barely even had a chance to check yourself in the mirror when you were finished. Your hair looked perfect at least, the naturally burgundy curls sitting at shoulder length. You missed the long hair of your youth, but it become impractical very quickly, and the memories it held… you ended up cutting it all off soon after your mum died. That was when you started working here too. You’d had dreams, of course you did, but growing up in the Undercity made it almost impossible to follow them. There were worse places to work though - for the most part, the patrons were respectful, and everyone who you worked with was kind, but it was still a strip club. At the end of the day, no little girl wanted to be an exotic dancer when they grew up. At least it just about paid the bills.

You had been put on a long shift today - late afternoon until the early hours. You didn’t mind though; it was exhausting, but more time meant more tips. And you needed the money. You were saving, slowly but surely. One day, it would be enough.

These shifts always started slow. Not many tips this early in the day. Not enough drunks - they were all too willing to part with their money, an exploit you knew how to use. After a while on stage, it was your turn to make your way into the crowd. You started away from the bar, smiling at a few, a couple of words of flirtation thrown around, but no one was loose enough for anything else yet. There was something different about the energy today though. You felt… exposed, on display, more than usual. Self conscious in a way you hadn’t been since your first week. By the time you got to the bar, you were already feeling frustrated at the lack of interest. But your favourite coworker was pouring the drinks tonight, and she had one ready for you already.

“Thanks, Katie” You crooned, knocking back the shot quickly and she immediately offered to refill - something you gratefully accepted.

“Thought you might need it. Slow start?”

“Yeah, not the best day so far.” You took your second, thanking her again, when you heard a voice call out your name. Your real name. It made you start, whipping your head around to find the source. You didn’t use that name here. You were expecting to see an ex, or an old boss, but instead you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

His eyes hadn’t changed. Kind but tired, amber in colour and glowing like whiskey in sunlight. The curve of his nose was the same, the curl of his lips, the small moles like points on a map - one beneath his right eye and the other to the left of his lip. There was a cane tucked beside his stool, and he was dressed well. Too well to be in this part of town. A uniform of some sort, something a Topsider would wear: blue shirt accented with a cream ascot and waistcoat. It suited him.

As soon as you saw him, every fond memory of your childhood rushed back to you like a river. The gentleness when he explained his creations to you. His willingness when you asked if you could paint them pretty colours, or add cute designs. The way he held you as you cried about your mum falling ill. How quickly he offered you support, and how quickly you turned him down. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you regretted that choice as soon as he stopped showing up to your usual spot. You kept going for months before you gave up, still trying to find him. The last time you visited was to scatter your mum’s ashes - your stories of Viktor’s designs and the beautiful creek where you tested them out together being one of the last things that brought her comfort.

And now, he was here.

He’d made it out. He’d made it Topside. And you’d only fallen further down.

If there was one person you never wanted to see you like this, it was him. He was the only slither of your youth and innocence left, the only soul in the whole of Runeterra who knew the true version of yourself, the first version of yourself. The version you actually liked. And now, he had to see this. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Every emotion was vying for attention: joy, nostalgia, anger, envy…

He repeated your name in a questioning tone, and you realised you’d been staring at him, the rollercoaster of emotions you just went on likely visible on your face.

“Do you know him, darling? Or shall I grab Joe?” Katie asked from behind the bar, staring him down with a protective look. Viktor opened his mouth to speak, indignant look on his face, but you answered for him, never once being able to tear your eyes from him.

“Yeah I… cover for me? If anyone asks, he got a dance.”

“Of course.” Viktor’s gaze had returned you, confused, and you just muttered a ‘come on’, signalling him to follow you, and you lead him across the floor to one of the private rooms. They weren’t exactly the nicest places to talk, the whole room painted a hideous deep purple, a weirdly-shaped black velvet sofa the only thing to sit on. As soon as you closed the door, turning around to see the soft look on his face, every drop of anger seeped from you, replaced with relief. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he had done something with his life. Relief that you hadn’t lost him forever.

You couldn’t help it but let the tears fall as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tight.

***

He was surprised by her warm welcome. After all these years, he had always imagined she would resent him, but here she was, face pressed to his chest as she hugged him, tears falling onto his shirt. He didn’t even have to think about it, one arm naturally surrounding her as she cried, keeping her close, while the other held firm to his cane, ensuring it was stable for the both of them. He never wanted to let her go again.

She eventually pulled away though, wiping her tears with the shy smile he remembered so well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.. on your fancy Topside shirt too.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I… um, I imagined bumping into you one day, finding you again, but I never thought I would be dressed like this.” He finally let himself glance down at her when he said that, to take her in completely, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked beautiful - a black two-peice set, solid silk on the areas that counted, but the frills and accents were a sheer lace, stockings too, glittering beads woven into the delicate material. Even if the environment didn’t suit her, somehow the clothes still did, the same style he’d seen her develop in her teenage years. Simple in colour, beautiful in design - the cunning of her inventor’s mind applied to her other passion.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” She sat down on the awkward sofa, curling her legs up onto it, and he followed suit, resting his cane against the arm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” It fell from his lips before he could stop it, and he winced, expecting her to be offended, but she just smiled sadly.

“You got out.” She stated as a shrouded question, ignoring his quip, and he nodded. He could explain, he should, but not yet.

“And you never wrote me.” He responded.

“Write you? Viktor, I didn’t know where you were.” She never got your letter.

“I left you a note by the creek. You never got it?” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you somehow, or…”

“It’s ok, Vik.” She shuffled closer on the loveseat, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. Hearing the name she used to call him sent a pang of pain to his heart. This is what he had been missing out on all these years, all because of a stupid letter. “If I was in your shoes, I’d have done the same. Besides, I never let you see where I lived, or anything else about me. And when mum… I fell off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have let you in no matter how hard you tried.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

***

You spent a long time asking about his life now. He was working in the academy, partners with Piltover’s favourite researcher, helping to create the HexTech that kept the whole city afloat… he had changed the fucking world. And you were… here. Still.

He said your name softly, as though trying to broach a subject carefully and you knew what was coming. You had seen the query floating in his eyes since the moment he saw you.

“What are you doing working here? I mean, you’re brilliant, more so than me, and yet…”

“I’m still stuck in the Lanes?” You sighed.

“Well, yes.” You’d never once thought of him as ignorant. Maybe he’d been living Topside for too long.

“I never got my break. You deserved what you got, of course you did, and you’re the smartest person I know, Viktor, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got lucky. And it’s not the same here as when we were kids. Sure, things weren’t great then, but now… There are no jobs, no money, housing is insanely competitive even though most of it is disgusting.. it’s a vicious cycle meant to keep you in the shitter. This is what I could get. It pays my bills and lets me save a little, the other girls are nice, it’s close to my apartment…”

“But…” You knew from the look on his face what he was going to say - a long speech about how much potential you have, and how much better you could have it. You dropped his hand.

“But what?” You couldn’t help but snap, defensive over the very job that you cursed daily. “But I’m better than selling myself to sleazy drunks? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I want to be losing my sense of self every day just so I can keep the lights on? You think it’s my dream to feel like I’m a lesser human being because I will let someone pay me to take them into this room and…” You stood up then, starting to pace as silent tears fell. You never let yourself think about any part of your life longer than you had to. Not pondering on it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You know I wasn’t saying that…”

“I know I’m sorry… I just…”

“I know… I know…” He stood up then too, wrapping you in his arms and letting you cry. Again. You felt so stupid. “I missed you.” He whispered, face nestled into your hair, barely audible.

“I missed you too.” The tender moment didn’t last for long though, as a sharp knock on the door startled you, jumping away from him and wiping your eyes.

“Vikki?” Joey’s voice called out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You ok in there?” You put on your smiley voice, cooing back to him.

“Yeah, all good Joe, got a paying customer in here...”

“You got it, doll.” You heard him walk away, and turned back to see Viktor looking at you, head cocked, small smirk playing across his features.

“What?” You asked with a shy smile, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Vikki?” Oh.

“Well I couldn’t exactly use my real name.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but giggle too. “That does mean we’ve been in here too long though, I should…”

“Yeah, no of course…” he moved to open the door, grabbing his cane, but you stopped him quickly, pressing your hand against the door frame.

“One second…” He frowned as you reached towards him, but he didn’t move, just watched curiously as you took your time unknotting his ascot. Once it was off, you unbuttoned a few of his buttons, trying to ruffle his shirt a little, make it look like you had actually been doing your job rather than talking to an old friend. “There…” you muttered quietly, realising he’d shuffled a little closer to you as you worked, and now his lips were only a breath away. He was looking at you so intently, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he never spoke, just gazed at you in a way that made your heart swell. Your hands lingered on his chest, comforted by the warmth and solidness of him. A reassurance that he was real and here. You didn’t want to move.

“Please, don’t go anywhere just yet…” you muttered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

She had been backstage for a while now, muttering something about trying to move her shifts around. She came back beaming, and it was infectious, a smile he was trying to fight taking over his own face just at the sight of her.

“Ok, if you’re busy tonight, or you have plans, you can tell me to piss off…”

“Never.” She blushed in response, her wide smile spreading further as she spoke, and he was helplessly drawn to her, eyes scanning her face intently.

“Well, someone came in early for their shift, but someone else is running late… anyway, our schedule is a mess, but good news is I only have to stay for another hour and then I’m free so… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some food and catch up? Unless you have somewhere else to be…” She still sounded so shy, so unsure - the same habit she had when she was young, babbling when she was nervous. He was finding it hard to connect the dots in his mind: the timid person before him now, the girl he used to know, and the dancer on that stage, full of bravado and confidence.

“That sounds wonderful.” The joy in her face was intoxicating, and he watched as relief visibly washed over her body.

“Ok, brilliant.” She spun away for just a moment, trying to track down the bartender she seemed to know well. “Katie, he’s with me, ok? Send him back in like an hour, and his drinks are on my tab.” He tried to protest, but she rested a hand on his shoulder, quickly silencing him. “I insist. It’s the least I can do, considering how long you have to wait around.” Again, he tried to tell her didn’t mind, that he’d wait as long as she needed, anything for her, but she was gone already, slipping into the crowd, his shoulder cold where her hand had been. He sighed, turning back towards the bar on his stool, taking another sip of his soda.

“That’s our Vikki…” Katie mused, slicing a few garnishes behind the bar. “Never accepting that somebody else would want to do something for her.” He let out a dry laugh, half at the name, half in agreement.

“That sounds like her.” A beat of silence passed between them. The club was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t too rowdy yet, and nobody else was at the bar, all relying on bottle service and shot girls instead.

“Drink?” He shook his head politely. “How do you know her?” Katie asked, staying busy but obviously trying to snoop. He didn’t mind. She was a topic he didn’t mind talking about.

“Childhood friend. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.” Her eyebrow shot up at that.

“What was your name, by the way?”

“Viktor.” A look of surprise flitted across her face.

“Ohh.” She drawled knowingly, smiling at herself as she continued to wedge limes.

“What?”

“I’ve heard of you, that’s all. Her childhood love who disappeared on her while her mother was dying…”

“You don’t know the whole story…” He snapped back quickly. He might hate himself for what happened, but he felt the need to defend his choices. It had turned out well for him, he just wished he could’ve found her. Taken her with him. Their life could’ve been so different. Katie chuckled, continuing her tasks.

“Oh trust me, I do. She’s very quick to defend you, you know. You can do no wrong in her eyes…”

“Not so sure about that…” As he muttered to himself, something she’d said suddenly hit him. Her childhood love…“Actually, on second thought, I will grab a drink please, whatever she usually has. But don’t put it on her tab…”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Topsider.” She saluted mockingly with a smile.

Two down and that was all he was having, just needing something to take the edge off after Katie’s admission. All those years wasted, because you thought childhood love was stupid and pointless. And now, seeing her again, you still love her as much as you did back then…

Katie was on her break, so he twisted in his seat, trying to find her in the crowd. She had never been difficult for him to spot, everything about her so familiar to him, and this time, she was centre stage, which made it even easier. Every part of him was screaming to turn away, to not taint his view of her, but he was instantly transfixed. She danced so fluidly, so gracefully. Every movement she made was purposeful and poised. However much she hated her job, she took pride in it. He was a scientist, sure, but she was a creator, through and through.

***

You were finally finished, and you were exhausted. Even though it wasn’t even half a usual shift, seeing Viktor, all the memories it brought back, it had been so emotionally draining.

You were grateful that the changing area was empty. It wasn’t the usual shift time, and no one ever came here on their break, so at least Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with that. You almost laughed at the thought.

There was a gentle knock, and his voice sent a flutter straight to your heart.

“Vikki?” He called out mockingly, and you laughed at the way he’d latched on to your new name. It was inspired by him, after all. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.” You were looking good, if you said so yourself. The fashion and the opportunity you were afforded to express yourself in that way was one of the few things you did like about this place. You’d tried to incorporate the shapes and designs of your ‘work attire’ into a more Lanes-friendly outfit, layering a black organza shirt over the lacy bodice, beading shining through the sheer fabric, pairing it with a bubble skirt and knee high boots, just the right height to allow your stockings to peek from the top. There was only one item that wasn’t black; his neckerchief that you had taken earlier was now around your own collar, tied in a dainty bow. He grinned as soon as he laid his eyes on it, striding towards you and gently holding the hemmed edge between his fingers.

“I guess I’m not getting this back, huh.”

“Never.” He shrugged.

“I’m ok with that.” God, the way he looked at you. It made you melt without fail, warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” You muttered, eyes still glued to his, honey tones making you feel as though you were stuck in them. A fly trapped in amber, resigned to its fate.

“I’m ready when you are.”

You’d decided you were going to cook for him tonight instead of taking him out. The places near you either weren’t nice enough, or they knew you for the wrong reasons. Besides, you wanted to show him your place. To show him that, even though you were still here, you had done everything you could to make the best of it, to continue learning and inventing and developing yourself.

That did mean you had to stop by the store, though. Which meant bumping into Angel. He and Viktor would not get on.

You had grabbed Viktor’s arm as soon as you left the club, a habit from the times Joey had walked you home, knowing that you were safer beside a man than by yourself. Even though the Undercity was bustling tonight, there was something so soothing about being here with him. A nostalgia warming you from the inside out. He let you guide him into the shop below your apartment, chatting absentmindedly about nothing and everything, when a smooth voice stopped yoou in your tracks.

“Not so fast, Vikki…” You groaned, turning back the few steps you had made into the entrance.

“Hey Angel.” You cooed, although it felt wrong falling into your usual flirtatious routine when Viktor was right behind you. He was working behind the counter today, thumbing through the till. His long dreadlocks were down, grey peeking through his beard, wide grin as his eyes traced over you, following your arm to where it joined the man next to you.

“Is that a nickname, or…” Viktor muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you responded.

“No, Vik, this is my landlord Angel…”

“Landlord, huh? Thought I was more than that, sugar…” He leaned across the counter, shit-eating smile on his face, clearing noticing and enjoying the fact he was winding up your new companion. Viktor scowled, moving a step closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, old man…” You sent him a wink, and he laughed, the booming noise of it always making you smile. “What have you got in that’s fresh? I’m actually cooking tonight…”

You chatted a little longer, grabbing what Angel recommended and some wine, before heading upstairs via the back of the shop. Viktor was still scowling slightly as you were unlocking your door, and you laughed lightly, nudging him with the bag of shopping.

“What?” He huffed.

“I don’t like that guy.” He grumbled, feeling smug that you had called it.

“He’s my landlord, Vik, and a friend. He’s a good guy, don’t worry.” He just shrugged as you finally got the door open, and you thanked the stars that you had remembered to tidy last night, or else it would be a complete tip. There were still remnants from your busy morning scattered all around the studio: scrap pieces of fabric and thread strewn across the kitchen table, the half-finished neglige you were constructing laid over the back of one of the chairs, the cogs and pieces of machinery lie abandoned next to your sewing machine in the wake of the modifications you were trying to make so it could handle more delicate material. The space itself was dark in colour, olive and navy washing the walls, brown leather sofa and black countertops marking their territory in the small apartment, the stain-glass screen in front of your bed the only splash of jewel toned colour. You could feel Viktor’s curiosity at the place, and as he stepped further into it, a smile settled onto his lips.

“It’s so very… you.” He said, and in any other intonation, it would’ve sounded like a bad thing, but when he said it, full of adoration.. it was a compliment of the highest order.

***

She was mesmerising as she cooked, twirling in the kitchen to her carefully selected vinyl, a wide smile on her face as she tested what she was making. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him, batting him away and telling him to sit down, and for now, he had obliged. But, as much as he wanted to help her always, right now, he just wanted to be close.

“At least let me pour the wine?” He said, already standing to help, and she huffed, but didn't object. Instead, she handed him the corkscrew and the bottle wordlessly. He smiled, leaning against the counter and continuing to watch her as she stirred. She was always so chaotic when she was creating, something evidenced by the near bomb-site on her kitchen table. It was just so… her. Everything about her apartment was as well, such a perfect and beautiful representation of everything she was, every tiny detail of her life and personality reflected in the space she lived in. The colours, the soft furnishings, the bookshelves lining the wall behind her bed. Then, he noticed something about the stain glass screen that separated the room, soft light from her bedside lamp washing through it and creating a blue ripple across the floor like a stream. It was of their place, their creek. It was abstract, sure, but he would recognise it anywhere. The way certain rocks jutted out, the colours of it all, the small boat floating in the still glass water.

“Did you make that?” He asked earnestly, and she briefly glanced up from the stove to see what he was looking at.

“Yeah, I've been trying out a lot of different hobbies actually, things to keep me busy when I’m not working. That was one of my favourites…”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly, focusing her attention back to the pan.

“It reminds me of you.”

He poured them both a glass, and she gratefully accepted.

“It’s nearly finished, just a few more… oh I meant to ask earlier…” Her mind was such a beautiful thing, the speed at which it moved so captivating, not even time to finish her own thought before starting another, “why were you even here today? In the Undercity, in my club… I just never thought I’d see you back here by choice.”

“I was visiting an old friend, a quandary about a new gadget Jayce and I are working on, but…” He was going to say something about it, ask her opinion on whether he should follow Doctor Reveck’s advice, what he should do next, but he decided against it. “He didn’t have any insights.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No, I…” She looked hurt at the speed the word left his mouth, almost recoiling and turning back to her cooking with a frown. “I mean that you probably could, but I don’t want to taint tonight by talking about a project that has been frustrating me for weeks. Another time though, of course I would appreciate your insight.” She sighed in relief, smile flitting back across her face. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, humming as she did, a flurry of breathtaking movement as she dipped it into the sauce, spinning back around and holding it up to him.

“Taste?” She asked, the look on her face so hopeful it melted him, her joy infectious. But underneath all of it, he couldn't help but notice the cracks: the bags under her eyes, the tiredness set into them, the subtle shake of her hand. But he just smiled, enveloping her hand in his and bringing the spoon to his lips.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” She looked proud nonetheless, spinning back away from him and he was left to watch again, heart swelling. He wanted this. Cooking with her, drinking wine in the kitchen to her favourite record, letting her order him around. He wanted the… intimacy of it. The domesticity. The realisation of it ached. You could’ve had this. All these years without her, all these years wasted. Precious time that you no longer have to spare. If you’d have just waited, just taken more time to find her, insisted on helping her even…

“It’s ready!” She exclaimed, presenting a plate with a wide grin, and every stress, every regret simultaneously melted away and intensified, a pit forming in his stomach.

“It looks wonderful.”

***

You had eaten, and you were both now on your second glass of wine. You felt closer to him with every single second, drawn to every word he said like moth to a flame. At some point in the evening, you’d moved to the floor, backs to the sofa, as you looked through some of your old sketches you had found. The conversation lulled momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes, and you realised how close you had gotten. Your elbow was leaning on the sofa, supporting your head with your body twisted to face him, knee pressing against his thigh. You moved your head forwards to glance at the sketchbook, and your hand fell, resting on his shoulder. A stillness fell over him at the touch, and he smiled sadly to himself.

“I think you should come back with me.” He stated with finality, and you froze.

“What do you…”

“I think you should come back to Piltover.” He closed the book, placing it gently on the low coffee table. He was serious. “Help Jayce and I with our projects. Let me teach you about HexTech.”

“Vik, I don’t exactly have any actual experience. I don’t have an education. I can’t afford to live Topside…”

“You can live with me.” He said it so simply, like it was so obvious. Of course you would love that. Now you’d seen him again, you didn’t want to be apart from him but… “Professor Heimerdinger can give you lessons, but you have the mind already. There are certain things that can’t be taught. You have the passion, the skill, the creativity…”

“But…” You weren’t trying to pick apart his plan, but it felt terrifying. Even though it was everything you had ever wanted, it felt so far fetched. Like a fever dream. It didn’t feel like your life, your future.

“No, I… I lost you once, I can’t do it again.”

“Vik…” He grabbed your hand that was resting by his shoulder, and you felt yourself relax into his touch. He turned head to meet your eyes, sadness creeping into them.

“I don’t have much time left.” The finality of his statement shocked you, and you couldn’t tell what he was talking about. Did he have somewhere else to be? Oh god, you’d already kept him here too long…

“What do you mean, time left?”

“I’m dying.” It felt like somebody had punched you in the gut, all the air in your lungs gone.

“You’re…”

“Dying.” He repeated factually, and your heart sank further into your stomach. “And if we don’t… Jayce and I are working on something that might help, but if it doesn’t, I need someone I trust to take over from me.”

“Viktor, hold on, I need to think…” Your mind was racing, and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around everything, hands running through your hair. He was dying. He wanted you to move Topside. He wanted you to work with him. To take over his life’s work. “It’s been years. I haven’t seen you in years and now you want me to… now you trust me to…”

“Of course.” He muttered, speaking your name softly to get your attention, hand gently wiping your face where tears had fallen without you noticing. “You’re everything to me, you always have been. There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with.” His hand was still resting on your face, and as you searched his eyes, you saw something else. Something pleading, something that echoed the feeling bouncing around in your heart. It would be hard. It would take a long time to settle in, to learn the ropes, to feel like you belonged. But it was your dream. To help change the world. And if he didn't have long, there was no chance you were wasting any of your time left with him.

“Ok.” You answered nodding, and you watched a smile take over his face, heart swelling at the sight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Vik, you’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter, and on top of it all, I get to be…” You nearly slipped, about to say be with you but you knew that was a lot. That you had only just reunited and to spring the whole I’ve loved you since I was 10 and I’ve never loved a soul since thing on him might ruin the dream that he’s just given you. But, fuck, you wanted to kiss him right now. “I get to work with you again.. there would have to be one hell of a catch for me to say no to that.”

“The whole dying thing isn’t too much of a problem then?” He asked with a slight smile, trying to hide a genuine fear beneath a joke.

“Oh, honey, knowing that we don’t have another decade of time to lose… I’m not letting you slip through my fingers this time.” His hand felt so natural resting against your cheek you’d forgotten it was there until it moved to cup the base of your neck, thumb drawing gentle lines across your jaw. His amber eyes were searching your features, looking for anything to indicate that you were unsure, but your resolve shone through, and you could see the moment he realised this was going to work, relief flooding through them.

Then, before you could process what was happening, his hand gently guided you forward until your lips brushed against his—light as a feather. For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just kissed you, that it was real. But as you met those pleading honey eyes, everything else faded away. Every doubt, every regret, every sliver of worry vanished, replaced by such overwhelming care and love that you felt you might burst. Your body gave in without conscious thought, melting into his arms as you kissed him. His hands drifted to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. You couldn't get close enough, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His fingers traced down your body until they reached your hips, pulling you over him. A soft giggle escaped into his mouth as you swung your leg over his, settling onto his lap. When he finally broke for breath, you found yourself chasing his lips, panting into the space between you with a wide smile.

His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, steadying yourself as his grip on your hips tightened. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his mouth. He smiled against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face while the other remained firmly at your waist.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with emotion. You could only nod in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being in his arms after all these years.

The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your shared breaths and racing hearts in the quiet apartment. His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, full of warmth and something deeper, something that had been there all along. Something that you had been too blinded by insecurity to notice earlier. Something that you knew all too well, reflected in your own heart. You pressed your lips to the mole on his cheek, and the one beside his mouth, a small smirk playing across his features as you did.

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening.” You muttered softly against his cheek, and he sighed, thumb dancing across your lips.

You eventually found yourselves entwined on your bed, limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets, his back pressed firmly against your sturdy wooden headboard as you rocked into him with gentle, deliberate movements. Each subtle shift of your hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your breath catch. You panted softly into his mouth as his strong, careful hands helped guide your every motion, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The overwhelming need to be closer drove you to pull him tighter against you, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders until there wasn't even a whisper of space between your bodies. Your chest pressed firmly to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat matching yours, as your head naturally found its place in the crook of his neck. You pressed feather-light kisses against the sensitive skin, tasting the salt and breathing in his familiar scent. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming - so intense, so raw, so perfectly natural - and you found yourself climbing toward your peak faster than you ever had before, your body responding to his every touch as if it had been waiting for this moment forever. You whined softly into his skin as pleasure built within you, each movement bliss, and he responded with a groan as he pressed his lips tenderly to your temple.

"That feels so good, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice coarse with desire, and your hips instinctively bucked harder against him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you. His meticulous fingers traced teasing patterns across your hipbones before finding their way between your bodies, circling your sensitive clit with perfectly measured pressure that made your toes curl. His other hand gently cupped your chin, drawing you back until your eyes met his, gilded with desire but still so full of tenderness. His lips ghosted across yours before he pressed his forehead to your own, releasing your face and returning his hand to your hip, guiding you once more. You could feel yourself fluttering around him as your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, and his eyes rolled back, a broken groan escaping his lips and filling the charged space between you. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter as you approached your climax, desperately seeking more of him, claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that swallowed the stream of desperate moans spilling from both your lips. When your release finally crashed over you, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced - all the pressure, all the built-up desperation exploded like a supernova and pure, white-hot ecstasy consumed every nerve ending, every thought, every sensation except the feeling of him inside you and against you. He followed shortly after, gasping your name like a prayer against your skin as his own pleasure overtook him, his lips finding purchase on your neck as he shuddered through his release. In that moment, it was perfection, hearing him, feeling him, everything you had ever dreamed of and more. But as you came down from your shared bliss, you couldn't quite silence the intruding thought lurking at the edges of your consciousness - that you wouldn’t have him for long.

***

She looked so peaceful curled against him, her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his chest as if she belonged there, her beautiful red hair fanning out like a fiery halo in the dim light. Her beauty was staggering - the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate arch of her brows, the soft curve of her lips - and he couldn't help but trace each feature with his fingertips, mapping the geography of her face with tender precision. She sighed contentedly in her sleep at his touch, unconsciously pressing closer to him, one hand curling loosely in the fabric of his sheets that lay across them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this complete, this profoundly at peace, as if all the jagged pieces of his life had suddenly aligned. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, committing every detail to memory - the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the subtle flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips curved slightly downwards even in sleep. He wanted to capture this moment, to carry it with him always like a talisman, a protection. A reminder that he would do anything to preserve her peace of mind. To make her happy.

The soft amber from the bedside lamp caught in her hair and painted her skin in warm honey tones, making her look almost otherworldly in her beauty, an ethereal being who had chosen, inexplicably, to be with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a feather-light kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, before letting his own eyes drift closed. Despite everything - the illness creeping through his veins, the uncertainty that clouded their future like a torrential storm on the horizon - right now, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[reiderwriter]

🕯 Ring of Fire 🕯

Pairing: sub!Spencer Reid x dom!Female reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge (sort of lol)

Requested: could you do glasses sub!spencer realizing he has a wax play kink? yk maybe reader accidentally spills her wax melt off her desk at work and it goes on to spencer making him realize he’s into it so the next day he picks up sex wax and he asks her to do it when they get home?

Warnings: BDSM themes, standard case details mentioned, temperature play, wax play, dry humping, thigh riding, hand job, penetrative sex (p in v), overstimulation, implied cream pie, choking, mentions of rope play, sub!Spencer and dom!reader, dumbification/bimbofication.

A/N: This one was just for fun. I literally already crossed off the free space. This is just for shits and giggles. Well. Enjoy?

Masterlist || Bingo Board

“So you're telling me our vic was turned into a candle?” Morgan mused from the corner of the room, frowning down at the new body in front of him. Or at least where the body had been a half hour ago, the only sign remaining being the errant drops of wax strewn about the bed and the caution tape closing your entire crew into the room. 

“Not exactly,” Emily said from the other corner, pulling up a pair of fluffy handcuffs with a pen from her jacket and dropping it into the evidence bag JJ held out to her. 

“So a kinky candle, got it,” you smiled, looking over at the other goodies Emily had uncovered. 

“Morgan, those candles, can you check what kind of wax they are?” Spencer said from the corner, looking up with that look on his face. Half curious, half flipping through the deck of index cards he had stored in the filing cabinet of his brain, looking for the right piece of information. He pushed his glasses up his nose and stared intently over at Morgan, waiting for his answer.

“It says they're organic beeswax candles.”

“There's also some soy candles stored here in the closer, Spencer,” JJ pointed out, waiting, as you all were, for his brain to click the right information into place. 

“The victim seems obviously well versed in BDSM. He seems to be a seasoned submissive, but…” 

“But what?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the excitement the words submissive coming from Spencer created in you. 

“The melting point of beeswax is 143-149° Fahrenheit. It's unsafe for temperature play, and it would have caused intense pain if not second or third-degree burns on his body. That's why he has the soy candles. Their melting point is as low as 114°. Those are the candles he was expecting.”

The shared looks around the room said that you were all contemplating the implications of his rambling. 

“So that candle isn't part of his collection, but something the unsub bought himself,” Hotch concluded for the team. “Good work, Spencer.”

The room cleared quickly after that, with each team member assigned different roles and tasks to keep the momentum going until it was just you and Spencer left, searching for anything else that could be helpful. He had a keen eye, and you… well, you were great at directing him. 

“That was clever,” you said, pulling on your rubber gloves and getting to work rooting through the kink closet. “With the wax.”

“Thanks,” he said, and something aching and feminine crushed through you as you noted the small stammer in his voice, the hesitant blush on his cheeks.

“You have such a lot of knowledge up there,” you said, tapping your forehead, so he could get the full picture, making sure you had his attention before you dropped to your knees and started your searching. 

“Hmm?” He said, and you knew he wasn't listening anymore. His eyes had glazed over behind those glasses, and even the glare in them couldn't hide that his gaze was entirely on you.

Spencer had always been sharp as a whistle, thinking too much for his own good. Until you had crawled into his bed that first time and convinced him that giving up thinking altogether really was for the best. 

Since then, it really hadn't been all that hard to convince him to turn it off and release that stress. 

“You know a lot about wax, is all,” you said, shrugging him off with a bored look and not bothering to look back at him. You knew that you'd just see a man desperate for your attention staring back at you anyway. 

“It seems like you had experience.”

“Ah, um, no, ahem,” he squeaked, clearing his throat quickly. “No…experience, I just... read about it once?” He was so nervous, he seemed suddenly so unsure of himself.

You finally smiled up at him from your place on the floor, watching him move around trinkets on the victims desk before looking back at you. 

“Good,” you said and stood up, confident that his eyes and thoughts wouldn't leave you now. 

“But if you ever find yourself curious, you know where I’ll be.”

You weren't expecting him to accept your invitation quickly. You'd admitted to yourself that anything remotely case related quite so soon was probably in poor taste. One case opened and closed and then another, and you'd fucked him in countless motel beds and against various walls before he mentioned it again. 

But there came a knock at your door one night, and you knew. 

“Spencer,” you said, smiling as innocently as you could, a little breathy from the quick sprint over to the front door of your apartment. 

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you said, eyes tracing down his body to the traces of fatigue scattered across his body. The shirt sleeves pushed haphazardly up to his elbows, the tie undone, the shirt crumpled. You grinned harder as you saw the bag in his hand. 

“I… I thought we could..”

You softly grabbed his tie and walked back into your apartment, pulling him along with you as he still struggled to find the right words. 

“You thought we could try something new?” You asked. He nodded.

“Is the something new in that bag?” You asked. He nodded again. 

“Is that something new going to make your big cock nice and hard for me?” You asked. He blushed a fierce red and nodded again, as you stepped forward and started stroking him over his pants. 

“You know I want to hear your voice, Spencer. You need to be a good boy or we can't play with your nice new toy.”

“Y-Yes.” He said, eyes already squeezing shut in pleasure as you pressed against him, free hand wrestling his bag from his grip. 

“On the bed. Shirt off, pants off. Leave your underwear on for now, and don't you dare start without me,” you ordered and he quickly ran to obey your orders. After all, he already knew what happened when he didn't listen nicely. 

"Oh, and Spencer?" You said as he paused in the doorway. "Keep the glasses on."

You grabbed the candle out of the bag, finding the box of matches you kept in your kitchen drawers, and stepped out of your own clothes before joining him, the red set you'd donned that day being more than sufficient for teasing him. 

“Look at you, so pathetic for me,” you giggled, as you climbed over him, straddling his thighs as you lit the candle, making sure to avoid his crotch, to avoid giving him any accidental pleasure. 

“Y/N,” he whimpered, hands strewn up above his head, tangling in the sheets. He was so very used to not being able to touch that you didn't even need to tie him up these days. 

As you ground down into his thighs, effectively riding him and pleasuring yourself, he moaned and shook beneath you, the pressure of restraining himself almost unbearable. Almost.

You knew his limits, and he knew his safe word. 

“I think it's ready, my sweet. Shall we sate your curiosity?”

“Yes, yes, please, Y/N,” he whined, as your hand finally found its way to his cock again. 

You held the candle just above his stomach and let a single drop flow out, landing on his abdomen. He twitched and arched his back up, thrusting his cock further into your hand. 

You did it again, and his moans were electric as you rubbed your pussy against him harder, needier than before. 

You covered his stomach and chest in the hot wax as he fucked your hand, your fingers pushing under his underwear to grip his cock, letting him hiss at the skin to skin contact with each spasm.

“Good boy,” you said, but your heart wasn't in it. You were too taken with him, his cute sharp face, his rounded glasses, his lips spread in a delicious moan. You were too desperate for him to truly tease him at that point. You needed your pleasure as well. 

Already soaked from his sounds and his strong thigh, you pushed your red panties to the side and dropped yourself down onto his cock. The only thing stabilizing you at that moment was the hand that had slipped to his neck, your other too busy making sure the candle was upright as you pushed up and down on him, desperate to not ruin your sheets with wax. 

They were already sure to be soaked through after this, but you'd washed cum out of them before. You weren't sure you'd be able to wash hard wax out. 

You took your pleasure in him as he continued to thrust up into you, like an animal in heat that is simply desperate for any release it can get. 

With the wax still hot, you pushed upright and let it drip on him again. 

“Fuck, Y/N…”

“How does it feel?” 

“H-hot. And good. Really good.” He winced, hands covering his face as he held back his orgasm, knowing you gave the orders.

You yourself felt hot. You felt good. And, most importantly, you felt curious. 

“S-Spencer,” you said, leaning down so your lips were practically kissing just below his ear. 

“I want you to burn me.” 

His eyes shot open, his hands racing to cup your ass cheeks as he stilled himself, forcing air in and out of his lungs. 

You put the candle on the nightstand and rolled onto your back, bringing him with you until your legs were wrapped around his waist and his head was pressed between your breasts, aa if startled by the movement and seeking comfort.  

His cock twitched inside you again and you were sure you were close. You just needed to feel him again. 

“Show me, Spencer. Show me what it was that made you so desperate to cum for me,” you whispered, pushing your hips up to meet his, urging him to move. 

Steadily, his hand reached out for the candle and he held it in his hands, moving back to a kneeling position as he got ready to use it. 

You sat yourself up on your elbows and watched as he pushed into you, one hand on your hip, and finally, agonizingly slowly, sent a single drip towards the tops of your breasts. 

“FUCK,” you screamed, grabbing his hand on your hip as you threw your head back onto the pillow. 

It was hot. It was so hot you thought for sure it'd burn right through you, but it felt good. 

You looked to the wax on your breast as he let another drip fall out and decorate the other. 

Your hips twitched, you pushed upwards and you came on his cock, whimpering and moaning just like he had done earlier.

“Good job… Good boy,” you panted as he let another drip go, never content to leave you with just a single orgasm if he himself hadn't cum yet. 

He thrust harder and harder as he put the candle down, pushing his nose into the crook of your neck and nuzzling in there. His glasses were an uncomfortable weight at your shoulder blade, but you welcomed the pain.

“Thank you,” he repeated, again and again, until you were certain it was the only thing he could remember, his hands tracing the bumps of wax over your body. 

You did the same, stroking his stomach as you grabbed his ass, pulling him closer to you. 

He came with a grunt, and you pushed him onto your back and rode out his orgasm as you chased your second, letting it crash through you moments later. 

Collapsing onto his chest, you let his hands wrap around you, pulling you in, ever as you were aware of the uncomfortable notches of hard wax decorating both of you. 

“Soy wax, right?” You asked, catching your breath. He nodded. 

“It washes off, right?” You asked. He nodded, blinking his eyes open again and staring at you quickly. 

He sealed your mouth against his ans held you tenderly there for a second before pulling you up into a sitting position, cock still warmed in your cunt. 

“We should go and find that out,” he said, shyly nodding towards your bathroom as you smiled and grinned straight back at him. 

[irisintheafterglow]

blood moonlit, must be counterfeit

summary: a guy at a party has a really good dynamight costume, and you two get to talking about your favorite heroes. (pro!bakugo x you)

wc: 1.68k

cw/tags: swearing ofc cuz it's bakugo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, halloween party, first meeting, emotionally constipated katsuki and reader is kinda oblivious lol

note: NEW HALLOWEEN HEADER BABY also this idea had me by the throat so i needed to write it down before it consumed my entire psyche. i'm back to writing for bakugo again because iykyk and halloween fics are giving me a lot of motivation right now. hope you enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“I have to admit–your costume is pretty damn good.”

“Yeah? Just ‘pretty good?’”

“Mhmm. Almost looks like the real thing,” you remark, taking another sip of the dangerously sweet jungle juice in your cup. It's an unreadable mix of bad ideas and bold flirtation, perfect for a Halloween party of barely 21 adults. The blonde guy beside you on the worn leather couch tilts his head slightly like he's re-affirming what you just said in his mind. “I think the real Dynamight would be impressed.”

“Would he, now,” he huffs under his breath, mouth curling into an unreadable smirk. He exhales a quick breath of what you think is amusement through his nose, eyes flicking over your body for the umpteenth time since he sat down with you. It makes your face heat up and you casually avert your gaze downward, catching more details of his costume that you didn’t notice before. 

The gauntlets were obviously the star of the arrangement, covered in numerous scratches, burns, and dents that attested to their “battle” usage. The boots were impressive, too, and you wondered how long it took to place every individual orange eyelet over the front of each calf. The cinder block rectangles sitting on his broad shoulders truly looked like real stone, solid like the toned muscle holding them up. It was the domino mask that threw you off the most, though. The guy must have been wearing bright red contacts, or something, because to look so similar to the actual Pro should have been considered a crime. 

“Who’d you come to the party with?”

“Just some friends,” he replies, shrugging an infuriatingly sexy shoulder. His entire look was putting the real Dynamight to shame, in your opinion. He nods upward in the direction of a guy in an equally accurate Deku costume standing with a very convincing Shoto lookalike. “They dared me to wear this and I lost the bet.”

“Must have been some bet, if you’re moping over here like a toddler.” The shrewdness of your words escapes you until they’re already past your lips; thankfully, he just smirks again and leans his head back, resting an arm on the back of the sofa.

“I’ll ignore that you said that, 'cause you're clearly intoxicated” he mutters, shooting you a brutal side-eye. Thanks to the alcohol, though, you’re far from deterred. 

“How gracious,” you chuckle and his smirk gets a little more arrogant. “What was the bet?”

“Some dumb drinking contest. That asswipe in the green can put down more shots than he looks.” He scowls and you fight down the urge to giggle at his bitter expression. He was the only guy you’ve ever seen that could make a grumpy face look hot. The only guy besides Bakugo himself, of course. “I wouldn’t have worn this shit to a party to save my life.”

“What, Dynamight isn’t your favorite Pro?”

“I’m more of an All Might guy,” he replies nonchalantly. He appreciates the classic heroes. Good sign. “If I had to choose a different one, I’d probably say Jeanist.”

“Jeanist is pretty cool. My best friend had a cardboard cutout of Eraserhead in her closet growing up.” He barks out a laugh and it startles you, but a mysterious feeling in your stomach wants to make him do it again. “What do you think of the current gen of heroes?” He hums thoughtfully, running his tongue over his top lip and you swallow back your drool.

“Red Riot’s a good guy. Deku pisses me the fuck off, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Same thing with Pinky and that Half-and-Half asshat. Chargebolt…” His expression turns into a frown so deep you’re worried that Chargebolt killed his family or something heinous like that. 

“What about him?”

“He’s just dumb. If given the choice between his life and a grain of sand, I’d take the sand,” he deadpans and you choke unexpectedly, wincing as your drink travels up the wrong tube and into your nose. His eyes widened in concern, reaching out to pat your back but deciding against it at the last moment. His glove-covered hands hover around you like you’re radioactive matter, carefully watching as you regain your composure. “You good, nerd?” Uses the same vocabulary as the real guy, too. Kind of weird, but I guess we all have our idols. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I just didn’t expect you to badmouth him like you two were friends from high school or something,” you joke lightheartedly and the guy blinks at you twice before computing what you said. 

“It’s whatever. They’re super fuckin’ easy to read, in any case,” he states with an air of finality and you down the rest of your drink, the dim lighting starting to blur everything around you into a single greenish-orange blob. “What about you? What are your thoughts on the new gen?”

“I can’t make such bold judgments as you, but I do think Dynamight is pretty cool,” you admit, suddenly feeling a little bashful when having the same question turned on you. The truth was, you followed the lives of the heroes a bit too closely than the average person should. It fascinated you so much that you were majoring in Quirk-specific journalism, studying the social and economic consequences of being a Pro. “I think his public persona is an interesting case when compared to other heroes.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’d like to imagine that he’s not always the loud, arrogant, obnoxious piece of shit that the press shows,” you start and narrow your eyes in confusion when he flinches at your description. You continue anyway but choose your words a little more carefully. Probably isn’t good to upset the guy who might have fashioned functioning gauntlets, if the costume truly is accurate. “There’s a side to him that I think the public doesn’t know about and doesn’t care to know about, since it’s easier to understand him as a loudmouth with no sense of manners. I just wonder who that guy is under all the yelling and testosterone.” His silence is deafening and you worry that you somehow offended him, but his tone is so gentle that your assumption becomes an impossibility.

“Seems like you’ve given this guy a great deal of thought,” he says lowly, voice barely audible over the sound of the blaring house music. 

“Well, he is my favorite,” you add quietly, not expecting him to catch what you said. He does, though, and that mischievous smirk returns to his face. Somehow, you two had inched closer together over the course of your conversation, and you were now close enough to smell his cologne. It was something deep and smoky, with a surprise note of sweetness, like caramel. “I’ve been following his hero career since I was in high school.”

“I didn’t take you for a superfan, but I do appreciate your support,” he chuckles and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You seriously haven’t figured it out?”

“Figured what out?”

“That I’m Dynamight, stupid. This is my actual costume and those are my actual friends. Hell, I'm paying for this whole shitty party,” he says incredulously, genuinely shocked that you didn’t come to that conclusion already. Your skepticism, however, rears its head and you burst out into rude laughter. 

Dynamight? Yeah, right. More like Dyna-maybe. 

“Excuse me?” He stares at you like you’d grown three heads and your heart drops into your stomach. You must have said your thoughts out loud. Fuck! “You’ve got some nerve, testing the patience of a Pro.” His words, under any other circumstances, would have cut down your pride like a knife. However, his eyes were conveying a different story, one of lust and want and holyshityouwantedhim. “Got anything to say, sweetheart? Or are you gonna just keep gaping like a fuckin’ goldfish?” You abruptly snap your jaw back into place, leaning your head into your hand and smiling in triumph when his gaze again uncontrollably rakes over your body.  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“See what, gorgeous?”

“That a Pro kisses better than a normal person,” you murmur and his pupils blow to the size of pool balls. He wastes no time, gently but firmly grabbing your chin with two fingers and pulling your mouth onto his. His lips are ridiculously soft and you muster up the courage to bite him softly, heartbeat racing when he groans into your mouth. One arm drapes itself over the back of the couch, the other pulling you as close to him as humanly possible without practically sitting on him. Your hand combs through his hair and the other keeps him on you by the back of his neck.

Right when you run out of breath, he pulls away and swears colorfully at the phone buzzing in his pocket, answering it with one hand while his forearm is still pressed against your lower back. You absentmindedly trace his jawline with a finger while he curses out the person on the other line, eventually chucking the device over his shoulder like it was the last thing he was thinking about. “You need to go somewhere, sweetheart?” He lightly pinches your side at your mockery and you jump, flicking his forehead in defiance. 

“Nah, that was a job for Dynamight. Right now, I guess I’m still fuckin' Dyna-maybe,” he rasps and leans back in to kiss you again but you push his face away, giving him as sober of a look as possible. “What?”

“If you need to go kick ass, then go kick ass. I’m just some random makeout at a party,” you remind him, painfully aware of the sting if he was to leave you alone. His expression contorts into indignancy again but you still try to convince him to alleviate whatever situation he was called in for. “Your job is more important than a hookup.”

“I don’t do hookups, dumbass. I’m interested in you,” he states plainly and your face is set on fire. The Pro, who you just insulted to his face, was interested in you? “So, let’s get out of here, yeah? I can make you dinner that isn’t shitty pizza.” His mouth breaks into a devilish grin and you’re already grabbing onto his hand like your life depended on it. 

“If someone messes with us?”

“It’s a good thing I’m already in costume.” 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[crowbraincoin]

Where to make friends as an adult.

Recently I saw a devastating citation stating that most adults find it hard to make new friends as it feels like there is a lack of community and resources to do so. It takes nearly 50 hours of time together to move from mere acquaintance to casual friend. For more advanced levels of friendship, it can take more than 200 hours before you can consider someone “close”. (source)

So, though I'm not an expert by any means, I thought I'd offer some examples, ideas, and tips on finding and making friends as an adult! Check below the break :>

Ideas on where to find friends:

🆓 Local free (or cheap) events. I went to a presentation that included a free beer in the ticket cost and I had a blast! Most cities have an events calendar you can look at. Soon I'm attending a free event for the transgender community honoring those that came before us. 📖 Library programs. Most libraries that I've seen don't even require a library card, just your email or phone number to sign up for a program! Be it a presentation, class, or event, the library is the place to be!

❕Events of interest. I think about what I'm interested in and what I would like to connect with people about, and I search around to see what I can find. I use sites like Eventbrite to help me search.

💻 Online Communities. For those who can't make it out very often, consider joining online communities by searching for fandoms or topics of interest and see if there is a discord server, bluesky feed, tumblr community, or other communities on socials!

How to make friends:

Consistency. Once you find a place you enjoy going to, an organization you whose events your enjoy attending, or a series of events that takes place KEEP GOING!! Consistency is key, you have to keep interacting with folks to become friends with them.

Transparency. Just be yourself, but that doesn't mean you should be trauma dumping! Sharing personal detail allows us to feel closer to people, but make sure you're not sharing too much information! That can always come later when you're closer friends.

Confidence. You have to believe that you're someone that people want to be friends with. Don't believe it? Well ask your current friends why they are friends with you! You'll not only get a confidence boost, but also hopefully share a touching moment with your existing friends.

Follow up. If you want to be friends with someone you've met, you have to build up the nerve to further connect with them. This means sharing phone numbers or socials.

Start talking. The best way to do this is by asking questions or by giving a non-threatening compliment. Try not to make it all about you, though it is easiest to talk about the one thing we know best (ourselves) it typically won't help you make new friends! Show that you're interested in them, their thoughts and feelings on the topic of the event or a neutral topic such as musicians or food.

Questions. Ask open ended and non-invasive questions and follow through. Examples below!

Invite them out. Once you've established an acquaintance, invite them to hang out! BUT if you're the one inviting them out then you need to make sure you have some plan in mind. This could be going to a trivia night, a local event, or going to a new place together.

Further questions or topics of discussion:

I'm new to this [place or reocurring event] how long have you been coming here? Do you like it so far?

If you could be a crab or a lobster, which would you be and why? (make sure you have an answer ready!)

How long have you known about [place or event theme]? What got you interested in [place or event theme]?

(If at an event with drinks or food) I'm having trouble deciding what to choose, what should I try?

What superpower would you want and why?

What do you do for work? Do you like it? (follow by asking non-invasive questions about their job. This is easier when you have no clue what the job position actually is, lol).

Hey, I really like your style! Where did you get your outfit?/Who or what are your fashion influences?

What questions or topics of discussion do you typically go for when meeting new people?

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request a BAU Team/maybe a little Spencer x Male x assassin

Who now works for the BAU, they are really good at stealth and undercover as if it's breathing air, they want a semblance of normalcy using the skills they were taught for good, but they can't hide, they can't run forever their past will haunt them come for them when they least expect it. (Note: reader has scars/ reader has a crush on Spencer but is afraid of how he would react if Spencer knew the real them) Prompt: to hell and back

This request is over a year old surely, im so sorry!

This a rare one folks, it's over 1k words lol. I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: blood, injuries, scars, stabbing, reader stabs someone, use of the word paranoid/paranoia, a few curse words, reader doesn't even get their dinner :(

They only ever saw you with long sleeves. They knew a rough outline of your previous life, no details. You signed a contract to keep the details of your previous life quiet. Only Strauss knew. You had worked as an assassin for the government for five long years, training rigorously before that for two. When leaving that life, you were given a new identity, (Y/N) (L/N). 

It had taken it’s toll, sometimes your knees creaked, your wrist seized up, sometimes old wounds hurt. But ultimately, when needed, you moved silently. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to hide forever, that eventually your past would catch up to you. And so, you were hesitant to try to get close with your team. You liked them (perhaps liked one member a little too much), and you knew they liked you. But you knew first hand that traitors could come from within.

You weren’t sure when, exactly, you developed a ‘crush’ (which was a word you refused to admit outloud) on Spencer. But soon enough the sight of him was enough for butterflies to swarm your stomach and your breath to hitch. You had never regretted your previous decision to take your original line of work, until those butterflies appeared. You knew it would never happen. That you and him could never be a thing. Because he was pure, and you were… tainted. You had done unimaginable things that would make any sane person run in the opposite direction. 

Not only would he run for hills if he found out what you had done, but then there were the scars. You had been injured more than once during your line of duty. They weren’t exactly something you were fond of. So, you wore long sleeves, trousers. Never short sleeves, never shorts. Not even outside of work when you were out and about. The only time you ever did was when you were at home.

It is possible to say that, over the years at the BAU, the paranoia lessened. You were no longer convinced that every unfamiliar agent was someone from your past looking for revenge. That was your biggest mistake. 

You had seen a new face around the bullpen, you had been with the BAU three years now, without incident. And you knew that new recruits had been hired recently. So, you thought nothing of it.

A few weeks went by without incident, just proving that everything was fine. You were just being paranoid. 

Until one night, you realised it wasn’t paranoia. You were walking back from the chinese takeout around the corner from your apartment when you were pulled back and down an alleyway. He managed to stab you before you got hold of the knife, twisting his grip and stabbing him. You glared at him, twisting the knife before removing it. You repeated the motion once more before throwing the knife into the dumpster just to your right and shoving the ‘agent’ to the ground. 

Food forgotten, you took a breath. You couldn’t go back to your apartment, it was clear they knew where you lived, they had been following you for some time. You ground your teeth, increasing the pressure you placed on your stab wound. Spencer. He lived close by. And with the thought, you set off. 

It took you about ten minutes of staggering in the rain and scared looks for strangers before you reached his block. You stumbled up the stairs, pausing when you reached Spencer’s door and knocked loudly. 

Please be in, please be in. 

The door swung open.

“What the fuck?” Spencer asked, staring at you wide eyed.

You clutched your hand against your stomach tighter, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” And with that, collapsed. 

You came to a few minutes later, now sprawled out on Spencer’s couch. “You need to go to the hospital.” Spencer said, pressing a handful of gauze against your wound. 

You shake your head, forcing yourself to sit up against your elbows. “No.” You choked out, wincing again. 

“(Y/N), you’ve been stabbed-”

“I’m fine.” You muttered, “No hospitals.” 

He watched you for a few seconds. “I’m calling Hotch.” He said, dialling before you could argue. 

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up properly. “Spence-” You’re not quite sure when you started calling him Spence. It just came naturally after a while.

The entirety of the team was there within ten minutes. When Spencer opened the door, they immediately sensed something was wrong. 

“(Y/N)’s been stabbed.” He rushes the words out and immediately heads back to the couch. Only to find you forcing yourself upright.

You needed to leave. They were going to find out, everything was going to be revealed. Not only would that break the contract you signed for Strauss, but it would put them in danger. It would put Spencer in danger. 

“You need to lay back down.” Hotch said as Spencer helped (forced) you back down.

“I’m fine.” You grumbled. 

“We need to cut the shirt away, we need to make sure there’s no other injuries and it’s soaked through.” Rossi chimed, handing a pair of scissors to Spencer. 

“No, Spencer-”

Morgan gently pushed you back down. “Will you just let us help you?” 

You sighed, feeling the cold air bite at your skin as your shirt was cut away. The team collectively gasped at your scars, the red of your blood only emphasising the white of the scars that covered your body. 

You distantly heard Prentiss on the phone with 911. This wasn’t exactly going to plan. You turned to look at Hotch, “You need to tell Strauss.” You said firmly. “Strauss needs to know- ow.” You gave a soft hiss as Morgan took over holding the gauze to the wound.

“I need- I need a second.” Spencer mumbled, standing up and making his way to the bathroom. Presumably to wash his hands. At least, that’s what you would do. Ah shit, there was going to be blood everywhere.

“Did I get blood on the couch?” You asked, craning your neck and attempting to twist your body to check.

“Can you just sit still?” Morgan huffed. 

JJ watches Spencer leave with a concerned gaze before following him into the bathroom. “Spence, you need to breathe. He’s going to be okay.” JJ said softly, giving him a small smile. Spencer nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“You’re right.” Spencer said, raking a hand over his face. “At the very least he’s stubborn.”

“Exactly.” She said, “He’s going to be okay.”

“He’s covered in scars, JJ.” Spencer whispered quietly. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” She said, “Let’s worry about that later, okay? Let’s focus on helping him now. Everything else can wait.”

“I like him.”

“I know Spence.”

“I really like him.”

"I know you do." JJ smiled, squeezing his arm slightly. "Come on, let's go check on him - make sure Morgan's not trying to kill him."

Spencer gave a quiet laugh, following JJ back to the lounge.

"Will you just sit still?" Morgan huffed.

"You're so bossy." You muttered under your breath, blinking slowly.

"You're literally bleeding, shut up and accept the help." Morgan resorted. You huffed in response, but stopped trying to get up, once again.

"Paramedics are one minute out." Prentiss updated after thanking the dispatcher.

You blinked, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, accompanied by the familiar blood-loss tiredness. You shifted your eyes, focusing on Spencer as the world around you blurred before going dark.

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧

summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.

notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!

warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.

୨୧

My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.

Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.

And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.

Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.

Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.

Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.

Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.

After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)

Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.

The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.

The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.

On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.

Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.

FLASHBACK

I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.

As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.

I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.

He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.

“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.

Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.

"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."

“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.

As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.

I never went back to those lockers again.

END OF THE FLASHBACK

I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.

The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.

The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.

As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.

Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.

The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.

Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone

Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.

“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.

My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"

The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.

I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.

Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,

Cameron.

"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.

My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."

Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way

I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.

Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.

"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.

He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.

Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”

The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”

“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”

Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.

Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”

He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.

Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.

"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”

“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.

“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”

Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”

“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.

Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.

I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.

As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.

Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.

“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.

I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”

Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.

He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."

Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.

I kiss his head “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He answers quietly.

୨୧

hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.

also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭

[modern-gremlin]

Morning Errands | Sebastian SDV — Married Life 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Sebastian (SDV) x afab!reader

Summary: You need Sebastian's help with beginning-of-season errands. If only there was a way you could "wake him up".

Tags: Husband!Sebastian, Smut, established relationship, detailed descriptions of sex, a dash of fluff. NSFW Tags below the cut.

Word Count: 2,900 (I did it, a fic under 5,000 words lol) A/N: Fun Fact — this idea started as a non-SDV related adult animation concept I was in early development of. I unfortunately do not have a lot of time for animating things anymore, so it's definitely more feasible to write it down. PLUS, I just love quickly shooting these stories out — better spat out here than rotting in my brain!!

It was really fun to rewrite it to fit the Stardew Valley world; I think it just gives me so much more to work with. Especially when it comes to writing about the world in detail. (and I get to feed my Sebastian brainworms <33) Hope you enjoy the read xoxo

NSFW Tags: morning sex, foreplay (dry humping), some dirty talk (mostly teasing), oral (male receiving), overstimulation, creampie

"Seb? Seeeeebb, it's 6:40," you say softly with a gentle shake of his arm, "we gotta get going." Still unwilling to move from his comfortable spot on the bed, Sebastian stifles a sleepy groan in response. It's always been hard to wake him up — that's something you knew even before you married him. Working freelance comes with the blessing and curse of setting your own work schedule, which means late night cramming sessions are a normal occurrence. You don't really blame him for wanting to sleep in, but today, he promised to help you with your ever-growing list of morning chores.

You run your fingers through his hair, lightly brushing the dark strands off his cheek with the back of your fingers. He just looks so peaceful when he's asleep; it's really such a shame to wake him up like this. Especially when he wraps his arm around you to cuddle against your thigh. It's almost tempting to sink yourself back into his arms and shut the whole world away under the protection of your shared bed covers. Almost — but you know better than to underestimate your beginning-of-season errands. It doesn't help that you also agreed to host a family dinner with Robin and Demetrius this evening. So much to do, so little time. In hindsight, you wish you planned this all a little better.

With a little more force this time, you try to shake him awake. "Mmph… just a few more minutes…" he mumbles while releasing his arms from your thigh, now lying on his back. At least he's able to get a few words out. That's a good sign, you think to yourself. You head toward your bathroom, hoping that by the time you're done brushing your teeth he'll be sitting upright. Maybe.

A soft, cool breeze enters the small opening of your window as you pass through the hallway. It's remarkable how quickly the seasons change in the valley. From your view in the bathroom, you can catch a glimpse of your summer crops, now reduced to wilted clumps in the soil. You'll definitely need Seb's help with this today. You take a little extra time to brush your teeth and wash your face, trying to buy him time to get up. He's gotta be awake by now, right?

You're not surprised to see him still splayed on the bed, eyes just barely fluttering at the sound of your footsteps entering the room. "Seb, it's almost 7 now. I really need your help," you plead sweetly, hoping the cute tone you've adopted would prompt him to move with more haste. He just smiles and offers a curt, "Mhm," in response, eyes still shut. Wow, he's really out of it, huh? You might need to switch strategies.

If you married Sebastian knowing that he's not exactly a morning person, he should also count on the fact that you're always up for a little bit of mischief — because now, you've got a plan that's basically foolproof. Creeping up to the bed, you slowly plant a knee on each side of his body to gently straddle his lap. With your chest pressed against his, you place kisses on his face. "Sebby, come on" you whisper tenderly into his ear, "you can get up for me, can't you?" He lets out an amused huff out of his nose and wraps an arm around the small of your back. He's definitely more awake now, but perhaps a little more provocation will do the trick.

You kiss along his jaw down to the side of his neck, playing with the collar of his t-shirt with your fingers. His eyes lazily open when you stop, now meeting his gaze from where your cheek rests on his chest. "Morning, sleepyhead. Remember those errands I need help with?" you tease. He lovingly smirks at your remark, placing a hand on your head to gently stroke your hair.

"Mm… what time is it?" he asks in a raspy voice. You answer his question with a light pinch of his cheek,

"Probably seven, by now. We're running a little late, y'know?"

The fact that 7AM is considered late to you is something he's still getting used to. If left to his own devices, he'd absolutely sleep the day away and have his breakfast at 3PM. Yet, he tries his best to slip into your daily schedule because that'd mean he'd get more time to see your face throughout the day, wouldn't it? But you know what they say, old habits die hard, and right now his old habits have him basically glued to the bed.

"What are the chances I can convince you to push these errands to tomorrow?" he asks cheekily.

"Hm… slim to none," you reply. "With the dinner party today and the fair coming up in a few weeks, it's gonna be really tough to–" You notice his eyes droop as you speak. "Seb?" He startles awake at the sudden call of his name.

"M' sorry, babe. Promise I'm not doing it on purpose," Sebastian rubs his eyes and yawns. "It's just... hard to stay awake."

With a smile, you shake your head and sigh, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Hm…I don't know. What are you going to do with me?" He places his hands onto your back again, looking down at you with a suggestive smirk.

Leaning in closer to his face, just barely grazing your mouth over his, you whisper, "I might have a few ideas."

Placing your hands around his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw, you pull him closer into a deep kiss. He tightens the grip around your waist in response, pulling you closer toward him. God, if he wasn't awake a few minutes ago, he definitely is waking up now. He takes your mouth into his, enveloping your lips entirely and gently brushing them with his tongue. You can feel your pulse quickening as your breasts press firmly against him; an urge slowly building and itching at you from below. Unable to contain yourself, you lower your hips to grind against the thick bulge beneath you. You can't help but smile at how hard he already is; grinning against his tongue.

You pull away to shift your weight onto his clothed cock, gasping at how it rubs against you. "At least one part of you is up," you jeer, rocking slow movements against his length. He muses at your words and brushes his hair away from his face, granting him a better view of your body on top of his.

"Can you blame me?" he smiles, his sleepy eyes scanning your form. Running thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt, he gingerly lifts up the fabric to reveal your bare chest steadily bouncing at the rhythm your clothed pussy rubs against him. "Fuck me," he gasps breathily, "what a way to wake up."

His exasperation makes you laugh, motivating you to grind your hips with more fervour. "I'm glad this is working," you admit, "because we have just– so much– to do…" Your words are broken up with every sway of your hips. He pulls your shirt off your arms as you continuously pleasure yourself with his dick, moaning and creating a wet spot on his boxers. He just watches as you use him, in absolute awe by how your body reacts to his. His head slowly falls backward onto the pillow, closing his eyes to take in the stimulation. Then suddenly, you stop.

His eyes dart open again at your weight being lifted off his lap, ready to pull you back onto him. You move his hands away and lower your face to his lap. "Nuh uh. You gotta wake up," you chastise before pulling down his boxers. He groans breathily when his thick cock springs free, smacking his toned stomach from the speed of your movements. Without warning, you spit on his tip and run your palm against his shaft, causing him to tense at the sudden sensation. For a while, he can only stare at you with furrowed brows and complete admiration.

"I should sleep in more often," he teases while grinning at his own remark. But soon his sly grin is replaced by a strained grit because you wrap your fingers around his fat length, stroking him at an unfair pace. He perches himself up by the elbows, watching you fist his cock from base to tip. "Fuck, baby. You gotta slow down or ill–" You lower yourself to lick his balls, dragging your way up the shaft.

"Can't, Sebby," you say, stopping at the tip. "Can't have you falling asleep on me." Taking his length in your hand, you guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

He instinctually places his hands on the top of your head as he throws back his own. The bed gently shakes at the bobbing of your head, catching and swallowing his length into your throat. It's all so sudden; so frustratingly sexy that he can hardly take it. With the hand that grips at your hair, he tries to pry you off him — hoping to gain some reprieve. But this only invites you to suck on him with more excitement. It's just too hard to resist when he praises you in his gravelly, morning voice. "Holy fuck, babe. You're too good at tha–" You can feel his cock twitch in your mouth as he pushes you away from him; he must be close.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you give in and pull away. You and Sebastian heave heavily, the latter trying to regain his composure. He's usually the one to make you melt underneath him, so you can't help but marvel at his flustered expression. "You awake now?" you triumph with a mischievous smile. He picks himself up to stare into you; the look in his eyes tell you that you're in for it now.

Releasing his grip, he sits himself upright and leans toward you. "Hm, yeah. I think I am," he says while returning your expression, "turn around."

Without a question, you turn yourself around, resting your chest on the bed while lifting your ass toward him. You wiggle your hips tauntingly in his direction until you're greeted by a firm smack — a small yelp escapes your lips from the impact. "So impatient," he chides while soothing the sting with his palm, "well, you got what you wanted. I'm up." He slaps your ass again before leaning behind you, pressing his chest to your back to whisper into your ear, "unless…there's something else you wanted."

Just the sound of his condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, and he knows it. He hooks a finger by your dripping slit and tugs at your underwear, causing the fabric to bundle tightly against your clit. All semblances of your mischief has disappeared, vanished with his scolding and now you're moaning his name into the covers. You can tell he's enjoying every lewd noise you make, because now he's tugging at your panties harder, trying to elicit a bigger reaction.

"Well, now that I'm awake, let's go over our to-do list, hm?" He releases your underwear, only to slip his cock beneath the fabric and vigorously rub your clit.

"Seb… I can't–" you plead, eager to feel him plunge inside you. He places his hands on your waist, stroking soothing circles with his thumbs against your back.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll get it, after we go through the list. Okay?" he coos.

Stumbling your words in between moans, you begin listing the day's tasks. "W-we… need to clear off the crops…and prepare the fields."

"Mhm," he hums while wetting his tip along your slit. "What's next?"

"Clear off the weeds in front of the b-baaaarn–" You words shake as he teases your entrance with his tip, gliding it to catch your slick. "Then go to Pierre's… to pick up ingredients for tonight." Your legs quiver as he prods your wet cunt, not fully entering.

"Is there…anything else?" Sebastian meaninglessly asks, his own voice getting shaky in anticipation. He doesn't really care what's on the to-do list, not at the moment at least. No doubt he'll have to ask about it later, because all he cares about now is making you beg to be railed.

"We might also need to–" This time, he slowly pushes his cock through your wet folds, slipping himself inch by inch into your cunt until his thighs are flush against you. His size fills you entirely, stopping any words from escaping your mouth.

He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your pussy clench around him, still gritting his teeth to continue, "We might need to what? I didn't… catch the last part." He nearly pulls himself out entirely while waiting for your response.

"We…might need to–" You breathe in heavily while his dick pulses inside you. "Seb, please," you beg in a petulant tone. Your cries are so needy and desperate, but you don't care. There's no pride between you two, only true love and the aching desire to be fucked. Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual. Deciding he's equally impatient, he fucks his full length back into you.

"I think I get the gist," he says with a satisfied smile before plunging himself in and out of your cunt. He so badly wants to praise how well you took his teasing, but he's almost completely breathless. Lost for words at how tight you are, how well your pretty pussy takes him, and utterly smitten by the way you moan his name between thrusts. He wants to pound more of them out of you — a reminder to everyone in town that you've chosen him and he's the one fucking you the way you deserve.

Really, this is just one of the many moments he's reminded just how lucky he is. He feels so lucky that you decided to move to this boring town. So lucky that you stuck around despite his icy exterior, and miraculously lucky that you fell in love with him. Now he gets to wake up beside you everyday, fuck you like no one else can, and navigate life's mundanities with the person he loves. Morning errands be damned; nothing ever feels like a chore now that you're his.

He pounds you harder now — as if he's trying to bury his intentions deep inside you so you can feel his gratitude. Because even all his sly remarks and bullied thrusts are just another way of praising you; another way to tell you he loves you without saying it out loud. Your pussy clenches down on him so tightly, grasping onto his praises like your life depended on it. Ready to cum all over his cock to confirm that you feel the same. But even if your cunt wasn't being obvious, your words certainly were.

"Seb– it feels so. Fucking. Good," you whine in between thrusts. You try to warn him of your impending burst, but the arch of your back signals your orgasm much faster than you can speak. Backing your ass further into him, you accept his length against your cervix until you feel your release. You convulse around him, whispering thank you's under your breath. The only sound reaching his ears are your muffled cries of pleasure and the squeaking of the bed. He fucks you through your orgasm, but even after you come down from the high, he's still not done.

He rails your stimulated pussy over and over again, causing you to reach out your hand behind you to slow him down. "S-sebastian, I just came. Slower, it's so f-fast"

Grabbing your arm by the wrist, he plows deeper into you. "Sorry, baby. Can't," he says breathily, "We got too much to do today, remember?" You turn your head back to look over your shoulder and flash him a blissed-out smile, silently laughing at his twist of your words.

Reaching around to your front, he rubs circles around your puffy clit while he fucks his last few, sloppy blows inside you. "So close, babe. M'so fucking…close" he says with gritted teeth. His movements on your bud stokes the fire within you, threatening to shatter you once again. With one last buck of his hips against yours, he shoots his load deep inside your pussy, filling you to the brim with in white. He groans profanities as he sputters small thrusts into you. The warmth of his semen hitting against you is the last straw, sending you into your second orgasm of the day.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, he leans forward onto your back, pulling out slightly causing his cum to spill out of you. You breathe in unison, heavily and laboured as you try to regain your bearings. Maybe it's been ten minutes or maybe it was an hour, but you both lay beside each other, unbothered by the time that's passing you by.

When you both come down to your senses, your eyes lock onto his and suddenly you're both chuckling at the morning's happenings. With a bright-eyed smile, he takes your palm to rest on his cheek. Placing a kiss on your knuckles, he greets you to start the day.

"Good morning, honey."

[pressureplus]

Hello!!! I really love the way you write stories and head cannons too.

Idk if this is similar to other one but I'm just gonna do it anyway.

(reader can be she/them)

I always imagine this that Reader and Sebastian used to be best friends and Sebastian had fallen in-love with the reader so he decide that he's going to confess to the Reader but sadly the reader suddenly transfer to other school that is out of the country because their father force them to but the reader sent a final letter to Sebastian which handed by Reader's freind to him.

Years later after Sebastian turned into a monster and the lockdown happened, the reader went down because of the crime they did that they killed their father but got amnesia that they couldn't remember anything. When Sebastian and Reader meet, the reader couldn't remember anything. But is Sebastian gonna try to regain their memories or no.

Sorry if this is too specific. It's fine if you don't want to I respect your decision.

No, no, its not too specific! It just took a while to write, that's all. Sorry if it's not as detailed as you would like. I mostly write half asleep and that's what I'm doing again lol

Aphotic

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

She had left him wanting all those years ago. The way she smiled lit a warm flame in his heart every time he saw it, her laugh ringing like clumsy church bells in his ears. She was beautiful to him, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Entirely striking and stand alone. Of course, falling in love with your best friend never ends well, and it certainly didn't for them. The letter he got that day entirely broke his heart, you’d gone and left him behind. No amount of love could keep you close to him either. It was signed with your name in the prettiest handwriting he’s sure you could manage. Some of the letter was so shakily written it was hard to decipher. As though you were scared, or maybe crying due to some of the little tear stains left on the paper. The ink mixed with it to create little splotches.

Now, here you stood. Your eyes cold and unfamiliar with him. He tried his best to say what he’d wanted all those years ago. He tried to explain how he felt when you just left, leaving only a letter behind. As though you hadn't tore his entire life in two with your bare hands. Yet you stared, eyes entirely blank and expression melting into confusion. It was like staring through ice. Those pools of both uncertainty and without any care, unfamiliar with him, with his voice, with his words. Somehow you not remembering him was the worst part of being down here. What you'd been sent down here for? You never could quite answer. He tried to push his feelings down when he realized you didn't understand a word out of his mouth.

Instead, he lied. He said he's sorry, that you had reminded him of someone he used to know. A person he’d once been familiar with. He was certain that little thing couldn't have been you. She’d been as quiet as a mouse, keeping low and skittering around corners. You couldn't be them, he's sure of that. So he began to help you, his hands in yours practically every step of the way. His all encompassing presence surrounding you, keeping you warm, keeping you fed, keeping you safe. He’d stick his neck out for you and complain the whole time. He’d claim he hated it every time he saved you from certain death. Really, if he was honest, he just wanted to be close to the shell of you.

If he could never have you, if your memories had been lost to time? He’d build new ones. Maybe building them in a place this cold and unforgiving wasn't ideal, but beggars can't be choosers. You were still just as beautiful as the day you left him too. If you were nobody elses heartache for the rest of time, you’d always be his. So he’ll sit and watch you enjoy things you always used too enjoy, and pretend to be just as shocked as you are when you say how happy they make you. Maybe he’ll hand sew you a plushie or two and say he got bored, rather than just wanting you to have something soft to carry around. Maybe he’ll get to fall in love with you all over again.

Maybe this time you'll love him enough to stay. Whether your memories do or don't come back won't change a thing. You will always be his precious Y/N. The one he kisses late at night, the one he cuddles with, the one he hopes to have children with. You're the Y/N he won't let leave him, and he’ll be damned if he can't save you now. Maybe before this place he was small, weak, human. He couldn't have saved you before, let him save you now, won't you?

[cartoonsinthemorning]

i wasn't sure if constance was a tomboy or not! i still love that she's very feminine i think it does fit stan as a general character to be loud and proud about however hes presenting himself (makes it easier to ignore/run from their actual insecurities/issues)

i loooove the idea of her forging documents to become ford's wife though god stan WOULD and im grinning just imagining the aneurysm ford would have when he eventually finds out (and i saw your tag on the answered ask and im on my hands and knees begging for 60s constance)

im kind of glad to know that deep down ford does have faith in his sister's capability. i think its very fitting he would be burying that quite a bit. all of his need of being the smart one, the successful one, and now the eldest son who takes care of his little sister - i can see how it would grate at him to see constance excelling without him. its easier for him to pretend its all just the usual misogynistic reasonings (especially because its a reason everyone else will gladly back him up on) than have to acknowledge that stan never really needed him. he always just needed her

-🐶 (and yes thats my little sign off lol. im too shy to make a blog for stancest stuff but i poke around on the tumblr community enough i felt like i should start connecting the asks i send to people)

Hello 🐶! Thank you so much for enjoying my previous answer, for chatting, and egging me on lol, it's a lot of fun! ❤ Sorry for taking so long to reply, but I could never find the time to finish the 60s Constance- up until now at least! I hope you like her.

(I may rework some details, later, but for now I don't mind how she turned out).

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Hey, Jealousy

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: NSFW, SMUT HEAVY CHAPTER, MDNI. Canon typical violence mentioned. Note: HELLO ALL! It's been a minute! This fic isn't going anywhere by any means, just had a bit of writer's block and lack of motivation to write for a bite lol. A special thank you to @lethalchiralium for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

“This is your target. Memorize it.” John paused as the surveillance photo of their target, a dark-haired woman with almond-shaped eyes, made its way between the trio. He placed a black cell phone in the center of the table while Soap regarded the image. “Freyja, you’re the best pickpocket out of all of us. Your task is to lift her phone and swap it out with the duplicate. Rumor has it there’s a major weapon’s deal rearing up, and I want to know when and where.”

Taking a moment to examine the photo now pinched between her thumb and forefinger, Freyja raised a brow. While she wasn’t one to judge solely based on appearances (a tactic she relied upon herself many times), the woman pictured looked far from an arms dealer. She seemed fairly young. “She has the details?”

Price nodded and partially sat on the table, arms crossed over his chair. “She’s the buyer. Rather unassuming, I know, but our intel is good.”

“Bloody hell,” Ghost mumbled, leaning into her space to sneak a peek. “They just keep gettin’ younger and younger…”

“Ah dinnae mean to be rude, but Ghost’s no’ exactly inconspicuous. A bit hard nae tae notice a giant with headgear at a social event.”

A fair point. Ghost was the tallest member of the team outside of König.

“Which is why you will be partnered with the Captain.” Freyja didn’t miss how her husband’s watchful gaze flickered between her and her co-captain. “You’ll have to couple it up to blend in; a single woman at an event like this would draw suspicion. Ghost will be going undercover as security detail and watch your six.”

“Me? Are ye sure, Captain?”

“Affirmative, Sergeant. I’d rather not have another incident like last time.”

“Last time?” Johnny looked between them. “What happened last time?”

THEN

It should’ve been a simple task, really. A pretty young woman lures a gullible, unsuspecting new hire to a roped-off room with certain expectations, only to be met with the cold steel of a knife to their throat.

As expected, the information burst from the young man’s lips like water through a broken dam, hoping to save his own skin. The quick execution Ghost offered was a mercy compared to what would happen if his boss found out he had snitched.

He could be merciful when he wanted to be.

The Simon she married was not a jealous man. A younger Ghost, at the beginning of their… “situationship”, however…

After the body was stuffed in the room’s closet, hopefully not to be found until at least the next day, he wasted no time hoisting Freyja up against a wall with ease and fucking her senseless. Her legs tightened around his waist immediately, her Venetian mask coming loose at the sudden movement and falling to the floor.

“Yes, right there. Hah, hah, nngh-”

“See what you do to me?” he growled against her cheek, hips snapping against her shaking thighs. “Can’t even get through a fucking mission without my cock gettin’ hard, and you’re over there, actin’ like a slag. Touchin’ that bastard like that-”

“I was just - doing - my job-”

Ghost’s brutal pace stopped and pinned her to the wall. One hand no longer supporting her weight, jumped from her ass to her throat, the bare, calloused skin squeezing the sides. 

“You took it too far. I should leave you high and dry for the show you put on.”

Her fingers scratched at the short hair near the base of his neck, earning a warning sound from the man. Freyja wriggled her hips to find some kind of friction, a release. “Fuck fuck fuck – please, Ghost, don’t stop. Make me come, please–”

“Yeah? Y’want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please! Please, I need to come–”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, so sorry! Fuck me!”

“You’re fuckin’ lucky I’m feelin’ forgiving.”

“Oh shit, thank you, thank you, I’m sorry–”

“You’d better be.”

NOW

The sergeant looked between Price and the couple, studying Price’s lifted brow and Freyja’s pressed lips and flushed skin. Ghost snorted beside her, which got him a sharp jab from his wife’s elbow.

“Bunch o’ rabbits, you two!” he snickered, laughing into his fist. Just how they managed to bone in the field so often, he’d never know. “It’s a miracle ye don’t have a thousand wee bairns by now.”

“Could’ve had them discharged for the mess I had to listen to.” 

“We said we’re sorry!”

“No, you said you were sorry. I won’t apologize if I don’t mean it.”

“I’m going to kill you–”

John cut them off, standing again and collecting his paperwork. “The target rarely comes out of hiding, so we can’t risk spooking her. Freyja, Soap, you’d better sell it.”

“Oh, I’ll make it believable, a’right.”

“And if somehow you find a way around this arrangement – please, for the love of God, no shagging on the job,” Price stressed, pointing at each of them for emphasis. “Got it?”

Johnny raised his hand.  “Ah would just like tae point out that, for once, I’m the good egg here,” he pointed out with a wide grin.

Multiple sets of eyes rolled. “Right then. Dapper up. I’ll see you all tonight.”

Ecstatic about their upcoming mission, the Scot jumped up from his seat, still beaming. He was already bubbling with ideas for their strategy, the backstory of the characters they would play, what he was going to wear–

“Johnny.”

“Sir?”

Ghost leaned forward, elbows planted on his knees as he looked up at the man. “Remember what I said about flirtin’ with my wife?”

“Aye.”

“Still in effect.”

.

.

.

Soap made it his mission to be as handsy as humanly possible the moment they stepped out of their vehicle. Ever the gentleman, he stuck behind Freyja when taking the steps up the grandiose front stairs into the venue; once at the top, his hand slipped across her lower back from one hip to the next.

Both operators kept their attire simple yet appropriate for the dress code. They complimented each other nicely; Johnny sported a simple black suit and a white collared shirt with the top two buttons undone, while Freyja donned a rich, dark purple, satin gown with an open back dipping to her tailbone. They were meant to fit in, not draw attention to themselves.

When they entered the ballroom, crystal chandeliers twinkling above, she glanced around the perimeter at the masked guards. Only taking in their stature for a second before moving on to the next, attempting to locate their backup –

There.

Ghost blended in seamlessly, dressed exactly like the other guards stationed around the room. All black ensemble, black combat boots, and a balaclava with a window for the eyes. They met briefly with Frey’s before she shifted her gaze up to her date, placing one hand on top of his at her side, the other between his shoulder blades.

All night, Ghost’s stare could have burned a hole through her skin straight down to her soul as her partner positively manhandled her. Nothing was safe. Her ass, hips, bare shoulders, and stomach were frequently groped, pinched, and caressed; you name it, Sergeant MacTavish did it. He came up from behind with a champagne flute for her, pressing against her as his hands snaked around to cradle her belly. Kissing obviously wasn’t off the table, his warm lips frequently finding hers; he had enough decency to keep that portion of the night brief.

Finally, after an hour and a half of loving it up with her husband’s best friend, Johnny turned Freyja into a pillar, forcing her to squeak in surprise. Gentle kisses pecked from her collar up to her ear, using his body as a shield.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” she whispered, keeping up the appearance of a drunk, handsy couple by carding her fingers through the back of his mohawk.

He chuckled against her hair. “That’s the idea, Hen. Figure one o’ us should get a good fuck outta tonight.” Frey rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to shove him. “Eyes on the target. She’s had a chance tae get settled. Move in on yer mark.”

She followed his guidance, subtle pressure at the base of her skull pointing her in the direction of their target. Thankfully, a small purse dangled by the woman’s pelvis on a long chain, ripe for the picking. If all went according to plan, Soap would walk them into each other, allowing her to switch the dummy in his pocket with the real thing.

Freyja initiated their objective by stepping in that direction but allowed her companion to take the lead. Clinging to his bicep and stumbling slightly, she whined, “You are in so much trouble when we get home!”

“Aw, c’mon Bonnie! Ah just cannae help myself!” he purred, bending to nibble her ear and give her a reason to jerk away.

“Hey, stop that!” As she lunged to the left, she fell out of the Sergeant’s grasp and into the young woman, grabbing her to keep upright. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“What the fuck!” She wheeled on them, eyes wide at the sudden intrusion into her conversation. “Watch where you’re going!”

Freyja huffed angrily in Johnny’s direction, straightening herself and her dress. “I am so sorry about him. You know how men can be. Always impatient.”

“Unfortunately,” the woman mumbled, nose turned up in disgust. If Freyja could rely on anything, she could always lean on most women’s mutual distaste for men. While it always felt distasteful to manipulate while undercover, it got the job done.

With a soft huff, Freyja grabbed Soap’s hand again and departed with a soft wave, tugging him toward their exit point. Ghost was nowhere in sight.

According to plan, the Brit had dipped into the women’s bathroom when he was sure the lift was successful, and they would eventually follow. Going into the bathroom after two people clearly looking for a space to hook up would look suspicious. The real trick was leaving enough time between their entrances that nobody would notice, without waiting too long for the other guards to notice Ghost’s absence.

She used her best high-pitched, giggling squeal and ditzy movements, swatting at the wandering hands pawing at the shiny, smooth material of her outfit. It had been at least two minutes since Ghost had disappeared, and she decided that was enough leeway for them to follow without raising any alarms. But just as her palm pressed against the cool doorknob, her ally stopped behind her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Freyja felt the abdominal muscles under Soap’s shirt tense; otherwise, his composure remained unchanged. “Sorry?” he asked with a laugh, keeping his body turned toward her. She refrained from ripping the stranger’s hand off Johnny’s shoulder and ripping back his ring finger–

The man smiled, perfect white teeth nearly sparkling in the light. “Ye owe meh a drink! C’mon, one more shot fur a fellow Scotsman?”

“Shite! Ah completely forgot!” Johnny hovered over her still and bent to run his nose along the shell of her ear. “Ah’ll be right behind ye. Just give me a fiver to finish my drink, aye?”

“Sure thing.” Freyja hung her hands on the lapels of his jacket, anchoring him in place to stretch and purr in his ear, “Don’t take too long.”

She was so fucking dead when they got home. Likely won’t walk right for days.

Barely halfway through the door, a firm grip pulled her into the room, slammed the door shut with her body, then wrapped around her throat. Her heels brought her just a bit closer to her husband’s height, brown eyes practically set ablaze. Ghost had abandoned his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his button-down, exposing the black ink on one forearm.

I should put in for a day or two off.

“Did you not learn your lesson last time?” Ghost asked, low-pitched and gravelly as if he had been restraining himself for hours. He probably had been. “Must’ve been too generous. Let’s try this again.” A man on a mission, he swiftly twisted the lock on the handle and hauled her with him several steps away from the door before forcing Freyja to her knees. His touch moved to cup her jaw.

“Broke my fucking finger watching him touch you, touch what’s mine. This mouth-” His digits snatched her cheeks, making her painted lips purse with a soft whimper. “-is mine. Your cunt is mine. Your body is mine – facts you’ve apparently forgotten. Let me remind you.”

Freyja gulped helplessly when his other hand slid the leather strap of his belt out of the buckle, then looked up at him through her mascara-coated lashes.

“Soap-“

“I. Don’t. Care. Do it.”

Her cheeks were enflamed under her blush, but she still raised a brow at him. Again, Simon wasn’t known to be a jealous man; they were very secure in their relationship, trusting each other completely. Plus, Johnny was in a committed, loving relationship, after all. But still, watching his best friend all over her, purposefully egging him on and pushing boundaries…

Anyone would lose their patience.

Her nails, painted to match her color scheme for the evening, worked at undoing his slacks and dropping them and his underwear down enough to free his already hard member. Slacks which, by the way, were fitted perfectly to hug his ungodly figure. Saliva pooled in her mouth at the sight, her hole already clenching around nothing. 

As if he had read her mind, Ghost seized the back of her head and snarled, “I’m beginning to lose my patience, love.”

Suddenly he was buried down her throat, to the hilt. Tears sprang to her eyes; she moved to dig into his thighs for purchase, which earned her additional pressure at the back of her head. “No touching.”

All Freyja could do was blink up at him and hold her hands behind her back, hoping he understood the message. Thankfully, he let up and slowly drew out before easing back in, fucking her throat with soft moans and the occasional curse. Ghost groaned at the sight of his precum and her spit gathering in his blond curlies, her dark lipstick smudging on his cock, tear streaks running lines in her makeup…

She flattened her tongue, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm while breathing through her nose and intermittently taking him until her nose was enshrouded in coarse hair. Even if she wasn’t getting off, and Ghost’s pretty face was hidden by his mask, the expressions in his eyes as she edged him toward his release were almost as satisfying.

“Fuck, you like that?” he questioned, hoarse and needy. “Almost like you were – hngh, shit – hoping I’d p-punish you.”

Even submissive, vulnerable on her knees before him and choking on his cock, Freyja still made him stutter and whimper. How many hours had he spent uncomfortably hard, keeping his dutiful post as their backup? Observing the near obscene show Soap had put on?

Ghost leaned his torso forward, supporting his weight against the wall with his free hand. He didn’t have to tell her he was close; even with his controlled breathing, his eyes threatening to flutter shut was a dead giveaway. Still, the head of his cock popped out of her mouth, garnering her attention again.

“How much of me can you take?”

“All of it.”

“Bloody hell…” He presented himself again, the hooded tip resting against her lips. “Lick.��

She immediately ducked under him and laid her tongue against the vein on the underside of his dick, applying soft, slow pressure to the tip again before taking him back in her mouth. Freyja picked up the speed and hummed around him, pushing (or rather, pulling) him closer and closer…

“Fucking shit – take it, take it, take it–”

His warm cum spilled down her throat, but she continued slowly guiding Ghost through his orgasm as he pulsated and huffed quietly above her. Freyja basked in the way he flinched, eyes closed as her touch bordered on overstimulating and torturous.

Satisfied and out of breath, Ghost jerked his hips away to avoid any more of her touch and offered his wife his hands. She immediately took them and was pulled to her feet effortlessly with a moment to find her balance. When he was finished tucking himself back into his trousers and fastening his belt again, Ghost slid the delicate strap of her dress that had slipped off her shoulder back into place, his gentle touch dragging across her skin.

Freyja was about to speak when the door rattled, someone trying to open it before they both heard a familiar accent on the other side. “Bonnie? ‘S me, open up.”

She gestured for him to stand out of sight for a moment while she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to let Soap in, careful not to expose her current state to others who may be watching from the party. When it was closed and secured again, Johnny took in their appearances; Freyja, clearly dazed with her hair tousled and makeup smudged, and Ghost, with his fly down, shirt untucked, and blazer tossed carelessly onto the sink.

Then, with the absolute, most shit-eating grin, said, “Ye’r welcome, Hen.”

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