#I don’t even know how much of what I’m doing is actually detectable but I didn’t want anyone to worry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonstudios · 6 months ago

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dextrocardia | 16

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6.5k

warnings: none besides.... fictional police work...

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 16/?

Despite everything, you fill with a sense of excitement as you drive off, Sana in the passenger seat beside you. It’s nice to feel like you have a purpose again, and even if you technically had one during the last mission with Jeongguk, it was overshadowed by the danger you believed resided under the same roof.

It’s a comfortable journey, and soon enough the highway turns into a pristine neighborhood, bearing no trace of the traumatic events that occurred there months ago. Most of it looks the same as you remember it but other parts don’t. There’s an unfamiliar car parked outside ‘your’ house, and not only that, but glancing through the large windows as you cruise by, you spot movement inside. Children? You knew people would eventually move into the house–a house that never even belonged to you to begin with–but it feels weird.

Putting your more than illogical feelings aside, you focus on parking your car outside the Jungs’ house instead. Before stepping out, you and Sana give each other one last once-over. Despite the relatively low risk of this initial part of the mission, you’ve still made an effort to appear inconspicuous, and it’s not only for your own sake. Considering what they’ve done for you–Hoseok especially–you don’t want to be a bother if they’d rather not have law enforcement be seen knocking on their door.

It’s Eunha who opens the door, eyes going wide when they land on your face. For a second, your worry grows; what if your presence isn’t actually appreciated? At all? But then her lips pull into a smile.

“Oh, hello?”

“Hi, we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions? About another case, not… yours,” you find your greeting turning into rambling.

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course. Come on in. I’m a little busy baking at the moment, but Hobi is home, and I’m guessing he’s the one you really want to speak with?”

She wipes her hands on her light blue jeans, leaving a white, powdery residue on the fabric before opening the door wider.

“Thank you,” you smile as you step inside, looking around to see that, as far as you can tell, everything looks the same as when you last paid the Jungs’ a visit. When you think about it, Hoseok never brought up the bugs you placed in their house, so you’re guessing they never found them. Or if they did, they haven’t brought it up for some reason or another. You’re not sure, but what you do know is that you’re not gonna be the one to do it, just in case.

“Make yourselves at home. I need to check on the cookies. Hobi!” she turns to call out into the house, “We have guests!”

With an apologetic smile, Eunha excuses herself, and then you and Sana are left alone in the entryway. You share some kind of look. Sure, you didn’t expect too much hostility, but to leave you, two detectives, unsupervised in their home?

A second later, the sound of footsteps approaches, and you smile toward the brown-haired man as he comes into view, his confused features turning happy. He takes in the sight of you before he closes the distance to give you a warm hug.

“How are you? You look good!” he compliments, also turning to shake Sana’s hand, a very sweet smile on his lips. “Hoseok.”

“Sana,” she greets.

“I’m doing well,” you answer, “He is too; made a full recovery.”

Hoseok’s smile falls, and he takes on a rather baffled look instead. “We saw on the news. About the station and the investigation and all that. Crazy. I mean, we knew there were corrupt cops, but to that extent?”

“Yeah.”

“So what brings you here?” he asks, a glint slowly returning to his eyes. “Was it maybe something I said one time at a hospital?”

You nod, “Yeah. Can you tell us what you know? Or give us any tips at all so that we can stop Kyung Sunghyun once and for all?”

You watch him contemplate. Since he first let that comment about Ksung slip at the hospital, you’ve felt that he’s a good enough man to at least not mind Sunghyun being investigated and possibly put behind bars. But what can he say without incriminating himself for essentially planning a robbery? And can he trust you if he accidentally lets something slip? You might seem like you’ve stopped pursuing him, but can he trust you not to, ever?

“Why don’t we take a seat in the living room?” He gestures for you to follow him, and after quickly taking off your shoes and jackets, you do, with Sana in tow.

Sitting on the Jungs’ couch, you wait for Hoseok to get comfortable and for Sana to pull her pen and notebook out of her bag.

“Hey, love?” Hoseok calls out to his wife, turning to the two of you, “You want something to drink?”

“Oh, water would be fine,” Sana accepts, and you nod, “Yeah.”

“Hm?” Eunha appears in the doorway. She seems to have more flour on her pants than last time.

“Could you bring us some water?”

“Of course. Anything else?”

Hoseok thinks about it for a second before he lights up, “Oh, do we have some of those brownies left?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll bring a few pieces.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as Eunha leaves, Hoseok turns to you again, a look of concentration coloring his features. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Well, everything,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll warn you that I might not know as much as you think, and some things–not that I know them–I can’t say. I guess I can start by saying that, hypothetically, if I were a criminal of any kind, I would probably still stay as far away from other criminals as possible; especially if I had… valuables that might make me a target. No honor amongst thieves and all that, you know?”

Although his words deny any criminal activity, his expression reveals that he’s well aware that everyone in the room knows that he’s far from innocent. At least as far as the law is concerned. You watch him intently, waiting for whatever information he has and praying that it’ll help.

Sana drives you both home an hour or so later, you sitting quietly in the passenger seat and staring out the window as the world passes by.

“We need to tell Jihyo as soon as possible,” Sana says, “I can drive you home after if you want me to? Unless you’d rather stay with me?”

“No, it’s… fine. I’m fine.”

You are fine. Although it could’ve sent you into some sort of panic attack, it didn’t. It’s just a reminder of why you don’t trust men, and you feel yourself withdrawing instead.

Hoseok didn’t have too much info on the Ksung trafficking case. As you expected, they spent a pretty significant amount of time trailing Sunghyun and his closest men in order to map their routines. Not that Hoseok admitted it; it was very ‘hypothetical’. But from what you gathered, it was difficult to get close to the top men and almost harder to follow anyone. Then, when everything happened and Hoseok and Yoongi understood that you’d been watching them, they put the plans mostly on hold. Except for one thing.

“He, of course, doesn’t actually get his hands dirty if he can help it, and we weren’t–you’d have to be a whole team to keep track of everyone and what they’re doing. But …there might be a private plane flying mostly under the radar about once a month. Someone might’ve found… ‘receipts’ for fuel from different places, and when pieced together, they form a vague route.”

“I guess the question is, why the need to fly incognito? Is it possible it flies… cash or other valuables from the bank that they’d rather not have everyone know of?” Sana asks, and you nod in agreement. It’s a very valid concern; you wouldn’t want just anyone to know if you’re transporting valuable cargo, even legally.

“The plane is refueled more often and with less fuel than a cargo plane, according to the receipts. It seems to be a very small plane, with a correspondingly small fuel tank. And these days, flight tracking is the default; it’s definitely an extra step to opt-out. Sometimes even difficult to achieve.”

“So we’ll be looking into this plane, alright. Where are the receipts from? Is there a pattern? Somewhere we can go to see if we catch them as they’re refueling?”

“The first stop is around three hours from their headquarters, so you’d assume the plane is stationed around there somewhere, but it might have proved hard to actually find it. I’ll give you the coordinates for that and the other locations.”

“Thank you.”

It’s with genuine gratitude that you thank Hoseok. It’s truly ironic that one of the sweetest men in your story is a bank robber, while the police have taken on the role of your enemy.

“So how is your case coming along? You haven’t found them yet, I assume?”

You press your lips together briefly before sighing. You know you shouldn’t disclose anything, really, but again, with how much has been on the news, the public would’ve known if the wanted police officers had been apprehended. And they haven’t. You’ve been told not even the Jimin-lead actually led to anything.

So you shake your head. "Still looking.”

To your surprise, Hoseok looks to be thinking hard about something.

“Okay, so… this might not lead anywhere, but if you’re stuck and possibly trailing Ksung’s people anyway… rumor has it that Ksung has been paying off the cops for a while. Not sure what station, but maybe, someone–at least up until around two months ago–used to meet up with someone at seven a.m. on the fifteenth of every month. Like I said, it’s supposedly around two hours away from here, essentially smack dab in the middle between the closest stations, but given your previous colleagues’... reluctance to follow the law, it might be worth checking out.”

“But they’ve been on the run for months now,” Sana questions, “If Ksung has been paying for police protection or their deliberate ignorance, then what would be the point now? They don’t have anything left to offer.”

“Their silence, maybe?” Hoseok tries to offer an explanation. “They could be blackmailing Ksung into giving them the money they need while on the run. Pay up, or they’ll tip someone off?”

“If what we think about Ksung is true, wouldn’t he just… get rid of them if that were the case? Can’t be that much of a leap between trafficking and murder? Especially if they’re a threat to everything Sunghyun built?”

You adjust your position on the couch, sitting quite literally on the edge of your seat and looking at Sana. “Yeah, I honestly think so too. It wouldn’t make sense to let some of the most wanted people blackmail you like that. There’s a big risk that they’re caught and then they might blab and drag you down too. Better to get rid of them.”

“Maybe,” Hoseok adds, “But there were a lot of officers caught in the investigation, weren’t there?”

“Yeah. All fired,” Sana confirms.

“Again, I can’t promise it’ll help because it’s somewhat of a long shot, but what if you didn’t catch them all? What if…”

“--Someone’s still working at the station,” you continue where Hoseok trailed off. “And taking bribes?”

“And you think that person is helping Hoseong?” Sana wonders, her eyes wide.

“Don’t know, but what are the odds of two separate groups of officers being corrupt?”

You really don’t want to answer that.

Jihyo is surprised at your findings, but when you turn it around to look at it from another angle, it makes an awful lot more sense. Instead of questioning the odds of your two cases being connected, it’s not so strange to think that a criminal bank CEO might be bribing the town’s corrupt police. It’s just strange for you to have found yourself in the middle of it.

“So what do we do?” Sana whispers, glancing at Jihyo’s closed office door behind her.

“Wait. What’s today’s date?” Jihyo asks, her eyes going wide as she realizes what you’ve already had time to see.

“January fourteenth,” Sana explains.

Jihyo looks at you and Sana and the look you give each other. “No. We should wait for backup; the outsourced detectives will be here in a week.”

“We’ll miss the window,” you argue quietly.

Jihyo raises her eyebrows. “What if it’s not true? What if it’s a trap to get rid of you?”

“Set up by Hoseok? I don’t think so. He could’ve gotten rid of us today if he wanted to, and I don’t think he would; he saved us, after all.”

“Well, you more or less surprised him today, and people knew where you were, so it would’ve been stupid on his part. Getting rid of you while you’re ‘looking for someone else’ would be a better plan. And like you’ve said before, when he saved your life, he didn’t know that you were investigating him yet. Now that he does, he might’ve just been waiting for an opportunity. What are the odds of you finding all of this out on the fourteenth when the supposed meeting is taking place tomorrow?”

Well, when she’s putting it like that you have to agree that there’s a risk. Not a big one, you don’t think, but a risk nonetheless.

“I want to go,” you say before lowering the volume of your voice further, “If there is someone here still… if there’s a mole, we need to… we need to act as soon as possible. The longer we wait, even if we try to be discreet, the higher the risk of him finding out.”

Jihyo sighs, lifting her hand to rub her forehead until she seemingly decides.

“Fine. Do you want to go tomorrow? Together? Maybe you should bring someone else as well?”

“Who? We don’t know who the mole or informant is, and if you suggest bringing Jeongguk…” you trail off. Jeongguk is great, but this is not his area of expertise.

“He’ll want to go, regardless.”

“He’s not a detective.”

“He’s out on a call right now?” Sana asks.

Jihyo nods. “Yeah, I think so. Out patrolling, at least.”

“Don’t tell him,” Sana suggests.

“You don’t think it’s him, right?” Jihyo asks in disbelief.

Sana continues, “No, but… the more people who know, the bigger the risk. I think he’ll do more good here, keeping up the charades.”

A few hours later, you’re already in the car, heading toward the spot Hoseok pointed out on a map. The meeting isn’t supposed to take place until tomorrow morning, which gives you a valuable opportunity to scope the place out beforehand.

The sun has set by the time you reach a hill, the road ending in an empty cul-de-sac with a low stone wall overlooking the arches of a large, gray viaduct. There’s a road running parallel to you, only on the other side of the wall, below the hill. It doesn’t pass under the viaduct, which stands almost perpendicular to you, but instead turns to run alongside it. You lean your gloved hands against the stone wall, following the road and its sidewalk below with your eyes.

The meeting point is supposedly a few meters from the sidewalk, up underneath the viaduct’s closest arches. From this spot, you can’t see beyond the arch, except for a few bushes and trees. It looks like it might be downhill.

Hidden by the elevation, the stone wall, and some trees, the current spot will be where you park the car tomorrow, and before checking in at a nearby hotel for the night, you decide to also check out the other side of the viaduct.

“So, how does it feel to be back for real?” Sana asks, stepping out of the bathroom and putting her toothbrush in her mouth.

Sitting on the bed, you flip through the TV channels. “Uh, good. I really missed this… feeling of having a purpose?”

She pauses the brushing, toothbrush still in her mouth as she speaks. “Mhm, I get what you’re saying. And… how does it feel, knowing that there might be someone we… missed?”

You take a moment to think about it. “I don’t know. I’m so used to walking around the hallways, paranoid of who might be waiting around the corner. Waiting for me to be alone somewhere. After a while, you just don’t have the energy to be that scared anymore.”

Sana nods in understanding, brushing her teeth thoroughly for another few seconds before she enters the bathroom again to spit the foam into the sink.

“Did you know that I basically didn’t fight them at all when they came for us during the undercover assignment?” you ask, fiddling with the remote on the white bedspread.

“Jeongguk mentioned something about feeling like you’d given up, but not a lot more. He wanted us to stay close and check up on you; said he thought the last year had taken a bigger toll on you than we’d assumed.”

“Yeah. I’ve been so scared for such a long time; felt for so long that I stand no chance whenever they actually decide to try it. I didn’t think there was any use in fighting them when they came, so I just… stood there. I closed my eyes.”

“But Jeongguk saved you.”

“He did, yeah. Let himself be stabbed by a fucking samurai sword.”

Sana’s quiet as she exits the bathroom again, a white robe in her arms.

You let out a deep breath. “What would you do? If you were me?”

Immediately understanding, she sits down on the other bed. “I don’t know. I want to say that I’d give him a chance, but I think it might be easier said than done.”

You look down at your hands. “Yeah.”

“I do believe he’s a good guy, and I think he’s learned his lesson, but a relationship can’t depend on whether he’s good or not, if he deserves you, or whether you should forgive him, can it?”

“It shouldn’t?” you raise your eyebrow at her, smiling a little.

“No, I mean, you shouldn’t be with him if the answer to those questions is ‘no,’ but the next question is just… Do you want to be with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then… does being with him make you happy?”

You feel your whole body practically answer her question. Your eyes drop sadly to the bedspread again, and your shoulders lift a little anxiously. “I think he makes me feel inadequate.”

She looks at you sadly. “You know that you’re not, though, right? You get to feel that way, and he has no say over your feelings because he’s the one who caused them, but you’re more than enough. We’ll support you no matter what you decide to do.”

Nodding slowly, you take another deep breath, getting up from the bed to brush your own teeth.

Usually, you find it hard to wake up fully when the sun has yet to rise and it’s freezing cold. Even the hotel’s hard but warm bed would be tempting you to stay in. But not today. The moment the alarm blares, you’re already reaching for your phone to quiet it, sitting up and looking around. On the other bed, not far from yours, Sana is rubbing her eyes and yawning. Today’s the day you might actually find a good lead.

Due to the nature of today’s assignment, you’re armed, just in case, and you’re clipping small body cameras to your thick, black jackets. On your head, you’ve got black beanies, and your hands are gloved as well to withstand the cold.

The sun still hasn’t made it far on its journey across the sky when you park the car in the same spot as you did yesterday.

“I’m in my position,” Sana informs through the earpiece. You dropped her off closer to the other side of the viaduct, where she’s currently hiding a little farther down a walkway and behind some parked cars.

“Good. Me too,” you confirm, leaning your elbows against the wall. Thanks to the trees and the relative distance, you’re well hidden as you kneel behind the stone wall, focusing on the meeting point through your black binoculars.

“It’s five fifty a.m., and we’re both in position,” you repeat, more so for the recordings.

“And so we wait,” Sana concludes.

Despite the thick jackets, it doesn’t take long before you’re freezing. If you could, you’d sit in the car, at least to be protected from the biting wind, but the angle from there wouldn’t let you see over the wall. Sana complains quietly about her fingers while your cheeks hurt the most. Every glance at your watch is painful.

Six fifty arrives, and you focus further. But there’s no one. Once every few minutes, a car or two passes on the road below you, but that’s it. Seven o’clock. Still no one. You’re starting to fear that maybe you missed them? Did they change location? Or maybe they decided on another time? What if they really just stopped meeting up, altogether? Hoseok didn’t seem too sure, after all. You bite your lip, trying to keep your cold body still. If there is an informant, you need to catch him.

Then, at seven twenty, you hear something. It’s the rustling of thick fabric as Sana adjusts her position.

“Dark-clothed male, moving in. 4 o’clock.”

As slowly and inconspicuously as you can, to not draw attention, you turn your head. Sure enough, a man is walking on the sidewalk below and to your right.

Just like you, he’s dressed in all black, a bulky jacket covering most of his body except his legs. He’s got the hood pulled over his head and his hands in his pockets.

“Can you get a visual of his face?” you ask, watching wide-eyed as he passes below you.

“No, he’s got something–a shirt or something–pulled up over his mouth and nose.”

“Okay, looks like he’s headed for the viaduct,” you say, waiting to see if he follows the sidewalk as it turns to run parallel to the viaduct, or if he steps in under the arch. “We’ll wait and see if anyone else shows.”

But the man doesn’t stop to wait for someone. He steps off the sidewalk, casually walking over to the closest of the huge pillars, graffitied in blue and green, and swiftly retrieves something from under a small bush. A bag?

“It’s a dead drop,” Sana exclaims as the man continues on his path, heading in her direction. It only took a few seconds, and anyone less observant would’ve missed the pickup.

“Do you recognize him?” you ask, on the edge of your seat. “Can you follow?”

You’re too far away to follow him on foot, and driving down would be impractical and likely draw his attention, so you stay put.

Instead, Sana moves, the rustling loud in your ears, and you hold your breath. It’s always more nerve-wracking to watch someone else pursue and track a target than doing it yourself. If this man discovers her, you don’t know what will happen, much less what he’ll do if he recognizes her.

The man disappears from view, and for a while, all you hear is Sana’s breathing and that same occasional rustling of her jacket as she moves. Then, there’s a bout of silence before her quiet, shocked voice comes through.

“I can’t follow him further; he’s getting into a black car. I… I think it’s JJ.”

As quickly as possible, you drive back to the station, wondering if you ever missed a clue about JJ. Considering how many men work at the station and how you’ve had to keep a very close eye on some of them, JJ has flown under your radar a bit. The tall man wasn’t anyone you’ve paid much attention to or interacted with, but he never came across as weird or suspicious; just as a regular man. He never outright harassed you, but he never stood up for you either, but then again, he wasn’t the only one using that approach. Additionally, you’ve seen him with Jeongguk a bunch of times, and you figured Jeongguk had cleared all the remaining men. Not that it’s Jeongguk’s fault, but still; you don’t think he’s easy to fool.

“How sure are you?” Jihyo asks in a hushed voice, her worried eyes flitting between you, Sana, and the closed office door. You know JJ is already at the station, you walked past him in the hallway, dressed in uniform. You weren’t able to follow the man, but considering you had to wait a bit and then drive down to collect Sana, it’s entirely plausible he made it back before you.

“Like eighty percent. It was hard to see, but… I’m pretty sure. Don’t know if I captured anything of value, but we can go through the recordings to be sure?”

“Maybe we can look through the work schedule as well?” you suggest. “If he hasn’t been clocked in at seven to eight a.m. on the fifteenth of the last few months–probably since they went on the run–then–”

“–We still can’t rule him out,” Jihyo interrupts sadly. “Even if he’s been clocked in, he–maybe together with his partner–could’ve simply driven there while on duty, assuming they weren’t on an active call. Maybe not super likely, but not impossible. So if he’s been clocked in, we’d need to look at those exact hours and place him on specific calls.”

“Which might take a while,” Sana adds, and you nod, realizing that she’s right.

Your heart races. “So what do we do?”

“His car’s in the garage, right?”

Jihyo gives Sana a warning look. “We’ll need a warrant to search it, and this is not enough for one.”

“But not to take a look through the window,” you say, biting your lip and meeting Sana’s eyes.

You wait for Jihyo’s objection, but it doesn’t come. “Be careful,” she whispers instead, following you toward the door. “If there’s one, there might be more.”

“Yes, boss.”

Being the first one to step out of Jihyo’s office, you glance the other way, just in case JJ happens to be watching. However, you don’t look where you’re going, and of course, you run headfirst into someone’s chest.

“Hey,” a deep voice says, its owner steadying you by your arms. Of course.

Embarrassed, you look up, only to meet Jeongguk’s dark eyes. He’s dressed head to toe in uniform, the sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms, tattoos and all, and it’s clear that he’s on his way out to patrol. You didn’t know he was really patrolling again, but then again, it doesn’t seem like they were getting anywhere on your case, and well… you don’t talk much these days. Like always when he’s near, your heart rate picks up, and your skin heats under his hands despite the fabric between you.

“Uh, sorry,” you apologize, looking away. You know you’re normally a pretty good actress, but today, you just feel too wound up and on edge. Jeongguk holds onto your arms, his observant eyes gazing over you.

“Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” you say with a nod, glancing at Sana. “But we need to go.”

But Jeongguk doesn’t give up. “There’s something’s going on, isn’t there?”

“No,” you lie again.

“You’re making me worried.”

“You don’t need to be.”

His gaze flickers between you and Sana, and even though you don’t think he’s completely buying it, he lets go. “Promise me you’ll tell me if you find out anything.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, already moving away. Technically, you being ‘off’ can simply be explained by the fact that you’re not entirely comfortable around him.

After getting rid of Jeongguk, you and Sana enter the station’s parking garage. The personnel floor is empty, save for about twenty to thirty vehicles, Jeongguk’s motorcycle included. Still, you make sure to look around before you start.

“What did the car look like?” you ask, peering through the back window of the closest one, a small dark blue car.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out much besides the color and size. It was black and a pretty small one, I think.”

You look around. Almost all cars are black. Or at least dark enough to be mistaken for black. "Do we even know what his actual car looks like?"

“Well... Let’s just check all of them. Just to be safe.”

Even though you make sure to check carefully, the process goes quickly. Until Sana calls your name quietly, the black car in front of her being her sixth or seventh.

“That could be it, right?” she points toward something barely visible, halfway under the passenger seat. But yeah, it looks like black fabric, maybe part of a small bag, but you can’t be entirely sure.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If we could only look inside,” Sana mutters.

“Yeah,” you sigh, your shoulder dropping in disappointment. “But all he did was maybe pick up a bag of unknown contents outside. It’s not enough. Should we just check the rest of them and then head back?”

Sana nods, “I’ll finish this row.”

Jihyo is still in her office when you return, having found nothing but the maybe-bag. She’s pacing on the phone to someone, motioning for you to enter when you cautiously peek your head through the door.

“Okay… Just get back to me as soon as you can, alright?” she says, sitting down behind her desk. “Yeah, okay, bye.”

“We saw what we think could be the bag, halfway hidden under the seat of a car that looks about the one the man got into,” Sana explains quietly after you’ve closed the door behind you.

“Okay, so nothing’s ruled out and nothing’s confirmed,” Jihyo concludes.

You nod, trying to think of the next steps. “Well, what if we review the camera footage? We were probably too far away, but you never know, right? And Jihyo, you could check the schedules and work hours, start cross-checking them with the calls responded to. I’ll see if I can dig up anything else about him.”

For a few hours, you work in Jihyo’s office, all three of you focused. Jihyo sits behind her desk, trying to see if she can match JJ to specific calls on any recent fifteenths and thus provide him with an alibi.

Sana sits in a chair on the other side of the desk, her laptop open in front of her as she goes through every frame of your recordings, and you sit on the floor, back against the wall, scrolling through both your phone and laptop.

“Finding anything?” Sana wonders, sighing in frustration–a sign that the recordings aren’t giving her anything useful.

“Maybe…” Jihyo replies, eyes locked on her screen. “Can you read line thirty-seven for me?” She hands Sana a sheet of paper listing the calls.

“Sure. Uh… Call about vandalism came at six twenty-seven a.m., reported closed at eight thirty-two. October fifteenth, last year.”

“Six twenty-seven to eight thirty-two,” Jihyo repeats as you scroll through JJ’s instagram, clicking on yet another tagged friend.

“Mhm,” Sana hums.

“Well, he was clocked in… But it seems like… yeah, Min and Mark were the ones who responded to it.”

The room feels… tense in a way, something Jihyo is about to put into words. Meanwhile, you focus on your phone, fingers tapping away quickly and your heartbeat rising.

“Doesn’t seem like we can rule him out. Which, you know, sucks because we all trust him–maybe trusted him–and we don’t want yet another one to have betrayed us. But if it is him, then maybe… we might finally be getting somewhere? Maybe?”

“Yeah, I agree. Don’t like the direction we’re moving in, but at least we’re moving.”

“Hey, guys,” you say, your eyes still glued to the screen in your hands. “JJ has a stepsister named Jimin.”

“What?” Sana exclaims, her voice hushed and eyes wide as she turns to you.

“Yeah. JJ’s mom seems to be dating this Jimin’s dad, but it doesn’t look like they’re married; not even like they live together.”

“So there are no ties on paper?”

“No, no ties.”

All three of you exchange silent looks, realizing what this could mean. You might have an address.

After discussing your findings–all hushed voices and big eyes as you conclude that, yeah, maybe Jimin visited her brother at the station and stumbled across Hoseong–you decide to take a break. You need to pee and Sana complained only a minute ago of her rumbling stomach. To be fair, you haven’t had time to take any real breaks, much less eat.

Determined, you leave the office, discreetly looking around before heading toward the bathroom. Sana leaves for the cafeteria.

After using the bathroom, you sit on the closed toilet lid to gather your thoughts. It almost feels like you need to catch your breath, too. Do you dare hope that you might finally get them? Still, you find yourself imagining what you’d do if that were the case. It’s not like they’ve haunted you for decades, but even a few months stretching into years feels like such a long time. A lifetime, almost. You experienced life at the station before everything went down, but is it even possible to return to that? Maybe it isn’t; you’re not the same person anymore.

Still thinking deeply about what this revelation might mean, you head back toward Jihyo’s office. Occasionally–like now–the white halls are empty, but as you approach the wooden door with the frosted window, you hear voices inside. They’re not abnormally loud per se, but louder than they should be.

You open the door, and for a moment, the voices fall silent. Already back, Sana stands with a Saran-wrapped bread bun and coffee in her hands. Jihyo sits behind her desk as usual, her laptop open and the call papers scattered across her normally tidy desk. And Jeongguk is standing in front of it, still in his uniform, wild eyes looking back at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything for the better,” you say, stepping in fully and closing the door behind you. “You’re with the guys more than we are. We don’t want them to find out.”

“There’s a risk anyway,” he says, turning to Jihyo, “We need to go there as soon as possible.”

Jihyo meets his gaze, her expression understanding but firm. “Jeongguk, like I said, we need to wait for backup. We’re understaffed, and there’s too much of a risk that they’ll recognize you. Besides, all of you inside this room are too emotionally involved at this point.”

His hands fly out, and though he tries to keep his voice down, frustration seeps through. “They were allowed to watch JJ accept a bribe in the first place?” he argues.

“Yes, and that was risky enough. If they recognize you, they’ll probably try to kill you. They’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re the reason they’re in this mess to begin with. Just hang in there until backup arrives.”

He shakes his head in frustration and disbelief. “This is crazy. They’ve tried to kill her so many times, and someone connected to them is still here. For all we know, he could be planning something on their behalf as we speak!”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I understand you’re frustrated; we all are, but this is the best course of action.”

He gestures toward you, “She needs to leave in that case. She can’t stay here.”

To be honest, you’re not that scared of JJ. He’s never seemed particularly interested in you, and you don’t think he’s planning to kill you or anything like that. Months have passed without you even suspecting he might be involved, and nothing has happened. Sure, you were mostly with Jeongguk until recently and not that often at the station, so while the opportunities might not have been plentiful, JJ has had his chances.

Jihyo sighs, leaning back in her chair. “It’s up to her.”

He turns to face you fully. “Come stay with me? Take a week off, stay at my place.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m staying at my place, and I’ll continue to work if I feel like it.”

“Please?”

You’ll never stop being surprised at how easily Jeongguk lets go of his pride. But by doing it so quickly, with so few reservations, it’s almost as if he grows in your eyes. You try not to think about him in that way.

You shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that you need to save me all the time. I’ll be fine on my own.”

He glances around at the three women in the room, none giving him the support he wants. He looks like he wants to say something, but suddenly, someone calls for him on his com radio.

“Go,” Jihyo instructs as Jeongguk gives you one last longing look before quickly exiting through the door.

Jeongguk can’t shake the new information, and as the day progresses, it keeps gnawing at him, his mind turning over every possible option again and again. While that last call–regarding a break-in—kept him distracted for a bit, his thoughts return as he enters the station again, Min heading off to the cafeteria.

He knows you’ve already gone home by the time he’s clocking out and heading for the locker room, still unsure of what to do. It terrifies him to know that there’s still someone who might want to hurt you, walking these halls. That he missed someone.

He’s got three options to choose from. The first: go home. Get some sleep. Or at least try to get some sleep. And then just hope that JJ didn’t spot you this morning and is waiting to attack you outside your apartment door. Jeongguk knows that it’s what you want him to do; go home and not get involved. But he’ll never forgive himself if something happens to you.

Option two is to drive to your apartment and sit in his car outside it all night. He’ll do it if needed, but it’s not very tempting, and it’ll render him useless at work tomorrow. Additionally, if nothing happens tonight–which, yeah, it might not–then he’ll need to guard you the night after as well. Sooner or later, he’ll need to sleep.

Biting his lip, he enters the locker room, taking a lap to make sure he’s alone before pulling out his phone. Google gives him the number to the nearest car rental, and he wastes no time, pressing ‘dial.’

He’s picking option three, and he needs a car that isn’t his.

author's note: i hope you liked it!! <3<3

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cacoetheswriting · 1 month ago

Text

break my heart again | chapter six from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 6.4K

summary: He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time. And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, slow burn, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / little comfort, some serious mutual pining, use of pet names, implied intimacy | non-explicit, plus mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, also touches on topics of: death, grief, toxic relationships, gaslighting, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

2:34AM.

The house is still. Quiet and empty. Everyone is hiding away in their own rooms, trying to get some sleep after a long and exciting day.

Except the house is not still. There’s shouting bouncing between the walls, keeping the group awake. Raised voices coming from one bedroom.

Eddie’s, to be exact.

Ding. Phones illuminate the darkness. The group chat.

Steve: They’ve been arguing for over an hour… Robin: should someone check what’s going on? Robin: not it

Jonathan sends a thumbs down emoji.

Nancy: Let’s leave them alone for a bit longer. Steve: I’m trying to sleep Robin: we’re all trying to sleep, Harrington Nancy: 15 minutes and I’ll go, okay?

Thumbs up reactions fly in. The chat dies down for a moment. Phones get locked, attempts at eavesdropping continue.

Robin: do we know what they’re arguing about? Robin: they looked mighty cosy this evening and now this? Steve: I can take a wild guess Robin: do enlighten us, detective Jonathan: Guys, it’s not our business. Steve: They’re kinda making it our business, Byers Steve: I suspect it’s got something to do with Chrissy Robin: of fucking course

Chrissy has had enough of being made to look like a fool. She felt as though she sacrificed enough for Eddie Munson during their time together and she wanted something in return, for the years she wasted on the metal-head. For all the instances he’d tell her you meant nothing, yet his actions proved otherwise.

Chrissy no longer wanted to be the butt of the joke.

Recording her version of the story, articulating it into words she’s been too afraid to feel, was therapeutic. She should have left it there. Let the past go and find someone who actually cares. But she couldn’t just let it be. Not so deep down, she wanted Eddie to hurt — you’re just collateral damage, a means to an end.

You pressed play without thinking too much about the implications because what could Eddie’s pretty ex-girlfriend possibly want with you. Issue some vague and empty threats, perhaps? Or maybe to tell you something along the lines of ��good luck, he’s an asshole’ — typical ex-girlfriend stuff.

Only there isn’t anything typical about Chrissy’s message.

Listening to it once should have been enough for you, but no, you had to go and hurt your heart by playing it again and again and again, until the words made even less sense than they did the first time around.

It’s incredibly incriminating, to say the least, and you don’t quite believe that anything Chrissy has said is true, so you let auto-pilot take over and saunter down the hall, towards Eddie’s bedroom.

He opens the door before you even get a chance to knock, as if he knew you were coming. As if he felt your energy gravitate in his direction and he wanted to meet you halfway. A smile reaches his lips, cocky yet soft, and your heart clenches because you desperately want everything to remain on the edge of whatever the hell you two have been doing all day.

“Miss me already, angel?” He quips, arm above his head, resting against the frame.

“We need to talk,” you say and slide under his bicep, stepping inside his safe space.

Eddie shifts, his smile faltering. He gets the sense that he’s not going to like what’s about to come out of your mouth. He swallows a breath and shuts the door with the heel of his foot, a gentle thud vibrating against the floorboards.

“What’s going on?” Concern laced through his tone.

You don’t answer. Not really. Instead, you hold up your phone, the one you’ve been gripping tightly in your hand, imprints left behind on your palm.

Staring at the metal-head, you press play. Chrissy’s voice booms from the speaker and you observe Eddie for any sort of reaction: to prove she’s lying. She has to be lying.

“Okay, ugh. This is so weird,” Chrissy’s note begins. “You don’t have to listen to this. In fact, I half expect you’ve already turned it off because you don’t owe me anything. We were never friends, just friendly. Acquaintances by nature or some shit.”

She pauses. Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the phone. He takes a step forward, but doesn’t try to come any closer to you. Almost as if he knows what his ex-girlfriend is about to say and he feels helpless to stop it.

“Now that you seem to have reconciled with him. There’s something I think you ought to know. Something he definitely won’t tell you since he’s always been quite chickenshit when it comes to the truth and you - separately and combined.”

You play the second voice note, eyes not leaving Eddie’s brown ones for a second.

“Our graduation party. There’s not a lot I know about what happened between you, Eddie, and Steve. He never told me the specifics, but I can piece together a rough picture and I know there was a blowup, one he blamed you for.”

Shuffling in the background indicates she’s on the move as she speaks.

“Listen, I’m not here to make assumptions or whatever. I just think there’s been a certain double standard which you don’t deserve - coming from me, that must feel like a shocker.”

Chrissy chuckles. The voice note ends. You play the next one, but not before Eddie says your name which makes your insides curl.

“After you fought for everyone at the party to hear, and after Eddie took you home, I don’t know if you know that he came back. I found him ruffling through the bushes. I suppose he was looking for something, although he never told me what. He never told me much when it came to you.”

Your free hand lands on the guitar pick around your neck.

“Well, I invited him in.”

“Angel—”

“Eddie, shut up.” You interrupt, voice quavering because now, seeing the downcast expression on his face, you know what Chrissy is about to say next is true.

The note continues.

“I’ll spare you the details. We slept together. Bet Eddie would never tell you that, huh? He’s all high and mighty about whatever you did with Steve earlier that very same night, when in reality he’s not much better.”

A pause for dramatic effect.

“Then, word spreads that you’ve skipped town and Eddie comes around more often. I asked about you, you know? I asked if he told you about what we did because I’m not stupid, I know there’s always been something between the two of you, and I didn’t want to step on any toes in case you came back. All he did was shrug and say you didn’t deserve to know anything from him anymore.”

Tears wet your lashes.

“Talk about being a conniving asshole.”

In the last, shortest note, she adds, “Sorry you had to find out this way.”

With the click of a thumb, you lock your phone and go back to gripping it, tight. Anger seeps through your fingers, although that’s where it starts and ends. The rest of you feels borderline numb — which usually drives you to drink. You hate yourself for this setback, but more so for allowing this in the first place. For getting caught up in Eddie’s forgiveness and his laugh, his touches and kisses, his promises of a better tomorrow.

The sham is clear. Chrissy spelled it out in her voice notes.

Eddie Munson gave you hell for kissing Steve then jumped into bed with the blonde Cunningham. Whatever. He needed someone to make him feel better. That’s not what irks you.

What hurts the most is the radio silence that followed beyond the night. The years of no contact.

What hurts the most is allowing you to think everything was your fault. For allowing you to isolate yourself from your friends, your home. For letting you stew in misery, thinking you hurt him beyond repair.

“I was going to tell you,” Eddie says, taking another step in your direction. “I swear, angel. I-I just didn’t know how to go about it.”

You scoff although your voice wobbles as you say, “Well, thank god for your ex-girlfriend.”

Eddie’s now an arm-length away.

“Look, I-I know this looks bad, but this doesn’t have to change anything,” he half-pleads. “I mean, we dated after, so it’s not like—”

“Like me and Steve?” You interrupt in disbelief at this entire situation. “I thought we moved past that.”

“We did,” he agrees with a shake of the head. “Fuck! I-I am just trying to say how what happened between me and Chrissy is different.”

Slowly, you nod. “Right, because that explains it so much better.”

“Angel—”

“You think I’m mad because you had sex with her?”

He seems shaken by your question which answers it immediately.

“Eddie, I don’t give a shit about who you sleep with. Chrissy, those horny moms that listen to your radio show, whoever else.” You tell him, “I’m upset because I went years believing everything that happened to us was my goddamn fault!”

The yell slips and he flinches, not expecting such ferocity.

Eddie left you to your own guilt and that’s his prerogative. The secrets however, they hurt. First the Billy thing, and now this. And imagining how different things could have been if you knew all this information sooner makes you want to scream.

“You keep secrets, Eddie. Billy and this, and you fail to realise how these secrets impacted me and my decisions!” You accuse. “What’s worse, we had a heart to heart last night, which would have been a good opportunity to tell me about this thing with Chrissy, but you chose yourself over me, again.”

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You still left, remember? You didn’t have to do that. You could have stayed and we uh, we could have tried to work it out—”

“I left because of you!”

Something snaps then. The last string of forging forward.

“Okay, I don’t like the accusation when you’re the one who made out with my friend.” Eddie goes on defence.

“Jesus! How many times are you going to make me apologise?” You throw your arms up with the question. “I was drunk and sad. My best friend—” You point to the metal-head. “— just told me he had feelings for me at quite literally the worst possible time and I wasn’t ready to…”

The sentence fades as you shake your head. “No. You don’t get to say anything about me kissing Steve anymore because you forgave me, remember?”

He’s staring at you. Hands formed into fists at his sides.

The argument bounces back-and-forth like this. You’re hurt. He’s hurt. Neither of you willing to back down first because there’s a whole lot more to lose now than there ever was before — boundaries crossed, all those kisses and whatever the fuck they mean.

“Do the others know?” You ask, breaking a tension filled moment of silence.

Eddie shakes his head.

You smack your lips together. “That tells me you’re ashamed, which means you know what you did is wrong.”

“What do you want me to say?!” He half-shouts, feeling agitated and defeated all at the same time.

“You still haven’t said you’re sorry,” you answer, softer, sadder.

Eddie’s heart clenches. He can see the hurt behind your eyes, hear it in your voice. He should have apologised, but you came in hot and he felt blindsided — not like that’s a good enough excuse, although maybe it is considering some forty-eight hours ago, you two were hating each other.

Well, he didn’t hate you. Never ever. Quite the opposite in fact, all this time.

“I'm sorry, okay.” Eddie says eventually. “I am really fucking sorry.”

“If only that wasn’t so forced.”

He sighs. “We’re going in circles here, angel.”

And the argument starts again. At this point, it feels stupid, but there’s a gnawing inside your chest that’s not allowing you to let this shit go.

“You let me believe you were broken over me.”

“I was!” Eddie shouts. “What happened with Chrissy has nothing to do with how I feel about you, goddamn it!”

You blink. Feel, he said. However, not even a split-second passes to let you dwell on the word and his use of it because Eddie continues with his rant.

“The facts are, you left. Despite whatever I said or did, and whatever you said or did. At the end of the day, you still left! And maybe I am a shitty person, shitty friend, for not reaching out and not telling you about getting with Chrissy that same night, fucking sue me!”

The metal-head approaches you as he speaks. He stops only when he’s toe to toe, hovering over you, demanding eye contact.

“I was heartbroken and I chose to react how I did to help me get over you!”

He fucked up, he knows, but you’re no better either. There’s been years of miscommunication and hidden information; that’s hard to fix over a few days.

“Eddie…” You whisper his name and search his gaze for absolution. An ending to this whole debacle.

“Which frankly, is a tough fucking thing to do,” he adds and clenches his jaw in anticipation of what you’re going to tell him next.

But you don’t get to reply. You don’t even have a minute for his admission to settle because his phone starts intensely vibrating on the bedside table.

Hanging his head, Eddie walks towards it and after glancing over his shoulder at you, a sad look on his face, he reads the texts that are coming into the group chat.

He types.

Eddie: We’re fine. Steve: Sure doesn’t sound like it, dude Steve: Heard my name a couple of times… Eddie: It’s fine. Robin: liar

He slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans with a sigh, and as he turns back around, he says: “I’m sorry, angel. For my part, I am.”. But you’re not there anymore.

The door to his bedroom is wide open. You must’ve slipped out in the split-second he paid attention to his phone instead of what truly mattered.

He follows, looking for you. When he finds you outside, sitting on the lawn and staring ahead at the lake, you tell him you want to be alone. Eddie says he knows, yet plops down next to you because he’s not making the same mistake he did three years ago. He’s not letting you retreat and run away when he just got you back.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says earnestly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, choosing to focus on the reflection of the stars in the dark water.

He sighs. “You don’t make things easy, you know.”

“So you’ve said,” you repeat.

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. Parting your legs, so he can slide in between. His own knees bump your arms, keeping you in place, no escape, as his hands delicately grip your face and force you to meet his sad brown gaze.

“I should’ve fought for you.”

Not a simple sentence whatsoever. Hard to say, hard to hear. The words settle around you, within you. They hold your heart. Squeeze it and let the blood pour until you’re faint.

The weight of this is bigger than anything he’s ever said to you. Eddie knows this too. He feels the way your body sags in his embrace. How you’ve seemingly stopped breathing.

He realises in that moment how, although you’ve never said anything, you have feelings for him too. Back then, even stronger now. All along. All this time.

And Eddie does next what he knows is wrong. He forces your hand — just like he did three years ago, but this time, he’s hoping for a different outcome. That’s all he’s got left. Hope.

“I should’ve fought for you because I-I don’t think I’ve ever stopped… feeling things for you.”

“Eddie.”

“And I-I think the problem all along has been your fear of reciprocating anything real.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “Or maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”

He kisses you before the words fully escape his plump mouth. The fight’s not over. The argument, simply put on hold. His lips trace yours, then travel along your jaw and down your neck. He reaches your collarbone and kisses there too, slow and steady.

He wants to hear you say it. Admit the feelings you’ve been harbouring.

His movement is methodical. His hands now on your waist, splayed fingers digging into your lower back as he bites your flesh, coaxing a moan from your parted lips.

“Eddie,” you breathe, “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

But you don’t. In fact, you lean forward.

“But we’re not having sex,” you mutter against his parted lips.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“And this doesn’t fix anything.”

“You already said that, angel.”

Since you have no further rebuttals — actually, you have plenty, but all you can think about right now is how much you want him.

Sure, the circumstances could be better, but fact remains. You want him to touch you and make you forget, make you feel better. Make you happy. And you want to return the favour, out on the grass, under the cover of darkness, because if nothing else, at least you’ll both have this moment.

3:17AM

Steve: It’s oddly quiet……… Nancy: Maybe they went to sleep? Jonathan: Exactly what we should be doing too.

He follows with a frown emoji, to which Harrington reacts with a thumbs down.

Robin: they’re not in their rooms Robin: and yes, I went to check because that’s what good friends do Jonathan: Not our business. Steve: The cars are still here, so they must be somewhere on the property Jonathan: Guys, seriously. Nancy: We should all go to sleep. Robin: fine Robin: but if they’re still missing in the morning, I won’t be the one talking to the cops Nancy: I’m sure they’re both fine. Steve: They’re in the backyard….. Robin: oh? Steve: They’re fine

He wraps the conversation up with a winky face and locks his phone. The rest of the group do the same, only after Robin sends one last message: “fucking finally”.

Finally.

That’s what you’d say to describe this moment too.

As Eddie’s hands gently slide under your top, as he works his lips along your jawline, as you tug his brown locks in your fingers, as he lay you down on the grass and wedged his denim-clad knee in between your thighs, finally is the thought that definitely crosses your mind.

Until it doesn’t.

“Eddie,” you mutter his name.

“Yes, baby?” He’s kissing down your neck, excruciatingly slow.

You exhale, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, turned on, but also nervous for his reaction to what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“What are we doing?”

He smirks against your skin. You can feel the twitch of his lips against that soft spot you didn’t even know you had until the metal-head found it.

“We’re not having sex,” he replies, teasing with your earlier comment.

The corners of your own lips twitch upwards involuntary. Happy, content. He’s funny. He likes you. Why is the devil on your shoulder trying to ruin this good thing?

“No.” Pressing your forehead to his, gently pushing away, you continue, “What are we doing?”

Slowly, the metal-head lifts his head, catching your gaze with his own. The gentle moonlight glow illuminates his face.

“There’s a lot riding against us,” you say. “And it doesn’t help that we’ve been avoiding this conversation.”

“What conversation?” He questions, although he already knows the answer.

“Eddie,” you whine. “We can’t keep pretending.”

Brows furrowed, he drops his hand to your lap, interlocking your fingers together. He squeezes once, twice, then swallows his breath. Nervous. A ticking time-bomb, this thing between you. That’s how he’d describe it. A lot of questions and excuses, not a lot of decisiveness out of fear, mainly.

“Pretending?” He ponders.

“Pretending it doesn’t hurt every time we look at one another,” you explain, “Pretending. everything is fine and we’re just two people who used to be friends.”

Eddie sighs. “That’s bullshit.”

And his lips are back on yours. Softer this time. A loving kiss. A loaded kiss. Making you forget why you were nervous in the first place because despite everything, he’s here and as are you. Together. Feeling… things. Liking each other. That should be enough.

Right?

Wrong.

Birds chirping and a cool breeze stir the brunette awake. He sits immediately because the first thing Eddie notices is how he’s alone — which is not how things ended at the ungodly hour of the night.

In the aftermath of a lovestruck haze, you fell asleep in his arms, but now you’re gone and dread spills into his gut.

Pulling his T-shirt over his bare torso, Eddie is on his feet and rushing toward the house. Inside, Steve throws him a look, a cup of coffee barely hiding the knowing smirk.

“Some night, huh?”

But Eddie ignores his friend. He’s got no time to entertain the teasing of it all. He needs to find you first.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, albeit growing red as a beet.

Steve snorts a laugh, shakes his head, and dips out the back door to enjoy the rest of his morning coffee.

Eddie resumes his search.

The living areas are all deserted. Quiet. Upstairs, he checks his own room first, the common bathroom, and when they too prove vacant, he rushes down the hall until he reaches the door of the last place you could be.

He knocks. Once, twice. There’s no answer and his anxiety spikes. Calling your name, he helps himself inside. Also empty.

Worse. There’s no sign of you whatsoever.

Eddie circles the room, slowly. The bed is made. En-suite clear of any lotions and bottles alike. Hesitantly, he opens the wardrobe, only to find nothing at all. Free hangers and unoccupied shelves. Your suitcase is also gone.

Something catches the metal-heads eye. A singular item left behind. The plushy he won you at the fair. He reaches for it, then stops abruptly because a sound coming from downstairs catches his attention instead. The entryway. Hinges open, close.

Your laughter.

Hastily, Eddie grabs the toy and rushes out of the room. He stops at the top of the stairs when his wide gaze lands on the girl he was sure left him behind — again.

“You’re here?” He half asks, half says.

Your head snaps in his direction and a timid smile graces your features.

“Good morning.”

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats, stepping down the steps, until he’s an arms length away from you.

“Where else would I be?”

“Your room is empty,” he points out, then lifts the plushy in his hands, “This is the only thing that was left.”

You reach for the toy, but grab his hands instead. Fingers interlocking together and you squeeze.

“I packed up my car. The rabbit must’ve fallen out of my bag.” Slowly, you pull his knuckles to your chest.

He nods, once. Slowly.

“I-I just thought maybe you… The whole Chrissy thing and what I said last night…”

“Yeah, we should definitely talk before we leave today,” you say and offer him another smile.

Eddie takes it in, the twist of your lips, and relaxes slightly, but there’s a look in your eyes he can’t quite place. A certain detachment. He wants to ask you about it. He wants to double check that you’re okay because he doesn’t quite believe that you are. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a chance because you slip away from him, into the kitchen where seemingly the rest of the group has now gathered.

The detachment is intentional. You’re just unaware that Eddie picked up on it. He wasn’t supposed to.

Truthfully, when you woke up this morning, tangled in his limbs on the hard grass, your insides curled with panic.

The metal-head kind of predicted it himself, with what he said. You’re afraid of falling. Love and other good things. You don’t want to feel them because they’ve hurt you before and he knows that. Which is why your instinct is to leave. Run to Las Vegas and forget about Eddie Munson once and for all. You can’t keep stringing him along forever.

You were almost free and clear, driving away without any goodbyes, when Nancy caught you.

She saw the look in your eyes and understood immediately because it’s the same look that you shared with her three years ago, when she told you to leave.

This time however, the Wheeler girl is telling you to stay. “At least say goodbye,” she says and you nod. “It’s the right thing to do.”

All through breakfast, you workshop a list of pros and cons to the internal turmoil of leave with Eddie or leave alone.

The Munson boy is staring at you from across the table and his deep brown gaze makes it all that much harder to think. Thoughts of he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, turn to, don’t leave him, don’t leave him, don’t leave. But no good will come of you staying, that’s what the devil is telling you. The dark part of yourself.

“This was a really good weekend,” Robin announces with a smile. “Thank you for organising, Nance. You’re the best.”

Steve lifts his mug. “To Nancy.”

“To Nancy,” the group echoes, you included.

“To us,” the brunette girl says instead.

Your gaze locks with Eddie’s and your heart drops. You don’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever. So maybe him coming with you to Vegas is a bad idea, because it’ll be that much more difficult to inevitably say goodbye?

His words echo in your mind: “Maybe you’re just trying to find another reason, another excuse, to push me away so you don’t have to face what’s been in front of you all along. Me.”, and despite the sinking sensation, you plaster on a smile and repeat Nancy’s sentiment, eyes not straying from the mahogany across from you for even a second.

“How about we each say what our favourite part of this trip has been?” Robin suggests, “Eddie, why don’t you kick us off?”

The metal-head swallows. He forces himself to look away from you, towards the remainder of the group and nods.

“Uhm. Sure.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I had fun at the fair.”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers because that would reveal too much to your friends. Although, judging by the snickers coming from Steve’s end of the table, they already know a lot more than they’re letting on.

“Good start,” Robin says and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Who wants to go next?”

Argyle puts himself forward. He says he enjoyed canoeing the most and the whole table, minus you and Eddie, barks out in laughter. Jonathan reminds his friend that he never joined them on the lake, he was afraid, and Argyle disagrees.

“That doesn’t sound like me, dude.” He drawls.

The group continues to laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Steve interjects, ceasing his chortles. “My favourite moment was cutting onions that very first night.”

Your eyes snap in Harrington’s direction and for the first time all morning, the smile on your face doesn’t feel forced.

“Don’t be cute,” you tease.

Steve rolls his eyes. “What can I say, sweetheart. I loved reconnecting with you.”

“That’s been my favourite too,” Robin chimes.

“Guys, stop,” you force, getting slightly choked up about this sentimental moment you’ve found yourself in. “These feel like cop-out answers.”

“What’s yours then?” Robin asks.

You hesitate. There’s been a lot. Some bad moments too, although the good outweigh them. Eddie is at the top of your mind. Making out in the lake. Later, dry humping (etc.) on the grass. A burn in your cheeks at the sudden flashes of memory.

“It’s all been really nice,” is what you settle on.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Right, ‘cause that’s not a cop-out answer.” She huffs, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice,” Steve repeats. “I guess bumpin’ naughties—”

“Well,” Jonathan interrupts, “I agree. It’s all been really nice.”

You flash him a grateful smile and he tips his head in your direction. A way of expressing ‘don’t worry about it’ behind the look he’s sporting.

“Me too,” Nancy adds.

“You guys are no fun,” Robin half-whines. “Only Eddie understood the assignment, and even he’s not being a hundred percent truthful.”

“I am,” the metal-head speaks. “Being truthful, that is. I really liked the fair.”

Robin smiles at him. “I know, dude. But I also know you guys did something salacious last night,” she says, pointing between you and the brunette across from you, “And I would’ve thought that’s the favourite moment.”

“Robin!” Nancy breathes in shock.

“We… I-I…” You stammer, searching for the right thing to say since there’s no use in denying it.

“That’s none of your business,” Eddie huffs for the both of you.

“I told them that,” Jonathan says.

“Oh come on,” Steve laughs, “It’s not a big deal. We’re just happy for you two. It’s been a long time coming.”

Hesitantly, you look back at Eddie. His own gaze is fixated on the ceiling above, head resting on the edge of the chair. He’s thinking about that detached look on your face. How can he share the same energy as his friends when you feel like you’ve already slipped away?

“So, are you guys like, together?” Argyle asks innocently, pushing the conversation along. “Congrats either way, my dudes.”

You want the ground to swallow you up whole. For all the talking you’ve done with the metal-head, you’ve not discussed a lot about what any of this means. The plan was to do so last night, before Chrissy’s voice notes. Plans shift. Mere moments ago, you said you’d talk before it’s time to go. You certainly didn’t think you’d be having this conversation in front of / thanks to your friends.

“We’re not together,” you say, blinking the embarrassment away, and the whole table looks at you. Including Eddie, whose lips part as if to say something different.

And he does.

“We uhm,” the metal-head clears his throat. “We actually haven’t talked about it.”

“Not for lack of trying” You mean it as a whisper, for no one in particular to hear. It comes out a little more intense than that.

Eddie leans forward. A snap judgement.

“You really want to do this here?” He asks quietly.

“Okay,” Robin chimes, “Guys, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, the dryness becoming unbearable. “All the arguing last night, and one reason we didn’t talk, would be my ex-girlfriends fault.”

Steve shouts, “I knew it!”, while you flutter your eyes closed. Breathing in, then out.

Last night. You decide, a little too late, that last night would’ve been a good idea to finish the argument. Wrap this cursed graduation party topic up, once and for all.

Instead, you gave into deep confessions and Eddie’s beautiful chocolate-button eyes, his light touches and the sensation of his lips on yours.

The group is chattering. They’re pressing Eddie for more details on what his hell-of-an ex did this time. He’s trying his best to fend them off: intentions may be innocent, but it’s none of their business. Unfortunately, he’s not having much luck.

Eventually, he cracks.

“I slept with her.”

Opening your eyes at that moment, you look at him again. His attention is already on you. Apologetic, sad.

“Well, duh, dude,” Robin begins, “You dated her. We kinda assumed you boinked.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Before,” he says, pauses. You can see him swallow his nerves. “The night of the graduation party.”

Silence stretches across the table.

And then you realise something.

You have to leave. Alone.

The flight to Vegas, and everything in between, cannot happen. How can you entertain the idea of falling for someone who, aside from wild confessions, doesn’t want to talk things through?

He too is always finding an exit strategy. Later, later, later. Eddie says later and nothing happens because there’s something different that gets in the way. His own excuses since he too is afraid to get hurt.

“Dude,” Steve begins, “That’s like…”

“It’s fine,” you chime. “That’s one of the things we actually did talk about. Not completely, but more than other stuff. ‘Cause we’ve done a lot of catching up, but uh, it’s all been very surface level.”

“Surface level?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Aside from Chrissy’s confession, we haven’t talked about anything real, Eddie.” You continue. “And we probably won’t because one of us will always find an excuse. Plus, there’s just too many other variables that make things difficult and as nice as this weekend has been,” you pause, heart hammering inside your chest, “We should stop kidding ourselves.”

His jaw locks into place.

“If that’s how you feel,” he says, monotone.

You nod, then blatantly lie. “That’s how I feel.”

Eddie stands. Chair sliding, falling backwards with force. He leaves before anyone else can add to the shitsorm that’s just transpired. Steve follows after his friend, shooting you an apologetic glance before he leaves. Robin and Nancy are suddenly on either side of you. The blonde telling you how she’s sorry for pushing this topic and the brunette reminding you that this doesn’t have to end. You freeze their voices out. Focusing on only one thing: the heartbreak in Eddie’s eyes as you spoke the words you didn’t mean.

Only a few seconds, you think, that’s all it ever takes to ruin a good thing.

After breakfast, you don’t care to stay much longer.

Itching instead, to get back to Fort Wayne. See your mom. Cry about everything while she hugs you. Maybe you’ll stay there a couple of days. Call in sick to work. Fake an emergency. Have her piece you back together. Maybe, while you’re with her, you’ll change your mind— No.

One by one, the group exchange goodbyes. Quick and long hugs. Promises of staying in touch. Some tears. A lot of pained laughter.

Robin says she’ll call every day and she’ll see you soon, for her girlfriend's birthday bash.

Nancy reassures her and Jonathan will also plan a trip to see you, and once again tells you about the room at her future house with your name on it. You stifle a sniffle and embrace her for a second too long.

Jonathan offers some wisdom. The silent killer, Jonathan Byers. A man of very few words yet, as you have come to experience, they’re somehow always the right ones. His hug is quick and you appreciate that about him. No mushy things needed.

Argyle announces loud and proud how it’s been nice to meet you, get to know you. “Likewise,” you tell him honestly and exchange a fistbump.

Steve’s next on the goodbye train. This hug you don’t particularly want to let go of. His strong arms hold you tightly, as if he’s trying to take away all of your worries and pain. In a hushed whisper, he apologises for what happened earlier and says how he only wants you to be happy — a sentiment not so dissimilar to the first conversation you had together this weekend. You place a soft kiss on his cheek and tell him you love him, because it’s true. He smiles, forehead pressed to your own.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Platonically, the feeling is not as scary.

When you break apart, you glance between the group and a lump forms in your throat. These are the best people you have ever met and reconnecting with them this weekend is what really matters, at the end of the day.

This group, plus Eddie.

Because Eddie is currently not here. He didn’t come to say goodbye.

And as you stride down to your car, glancing over your shoulder one last time, at your friends, at the house, you feel a thousand times worse for wear.

Until the front door opens with a violent shake.

Eddie comes into view. He’s got a wild expression on his face as he barrels down the front porch steps, then the gravel which crunches underneath his sneakers.

He pushes through your mutual group of friends and doesn’t stop his pace until he’s face-to-face with you, peering down into your surprised eyes, slightly breathless.

“It’s not been surface level,” he says.

“Eddie,” you begin, but his thumb is suddenly pressed against your bottom lip and you stop dead in your tracks.

“I’ve been head over heels in love with you for a very long time, angel.” Eddie states, a nervous tick in his voice because you don’t do well with proclamations, but he’s not going to let you leave this time.

(Never. Again.)

“Long before this weekend, definitely over the last three years, and before the graduation party, before Billy. Probably, actually,” he swallows, “I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you.”

Tears brim the corners of your eyes as the metal-head continues.

“And I know there’s a lot we haven’t talked about and a lot we need to figure out, but this thing we have, baby, I’ll be damned if I let you get in that car right now thinking that all we’ve done is surface level.”

“Eddie,” you try again.

He shakes his head. “Unless you’re going to tell me you’re staying to have a proper conversation, the one I owed you yesterday, I don’t want to hear it.”

Someone — Robin — shouts, “Kiss him, you fool.” and the rest of the group snickers. Well, Argyle and Steve snicker, while Jonathan and Nancy remprimend the lot.

Then they lead them back into the house, leaving you with this boy who is wildly in love with you, and who you perhaps love back, but how can you even begin to tell him that, since the last time you uttered those words, they were to someone who died.

“Please, angel.” Eddie pleads.

You open your mouth, then close it just as fast, chewing instead, on the inside of your cheek for what feels like eternity. In reality, it’s only a split-second while your brain works out what to do.

When you lean forward, inhaling his breath, his scent, him, you don’t intend to kiss him. You do anyway. Softly, tenderly.

And suddenly, your arms are around his neck and his hands are on your waist. He’s pinning you to the side of the car and his knee is wedged between your thighs. Your fingers pull his brunette locks and he bites your bottom lip, hungry, needy, pleading for something else entirely than a conversation.

“Okay,” you mutter against his parted lips, “Let’s talk.”

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

@ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie @rizzraa @micheledawn1975 @gracelouiseoneill @moremaple @bigpoppascherry @jeangeniex @daisy-munson @ceeezy @kissmyacdc @cyressluvy @mango-slush-boba @iyskgd @bigpoppascherry @everlove @tieganspeirs

#okay friends before you get mad: there will be another chapter!#right where you left me.#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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criibibi · 8 months ago

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Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 5 - No Time to Waste

It’s been a week and a half since the last power surge incident and so far everything was quiet. Too quiet for Batman’s liking. It definitely increased his paranoia which in turn causes him to be extra moody. The culprit? Whoever was behind the power surge in the Narrows. They became an anomaly to Gotham. Unwanted, an eyesore in the eyes of Batman.

And the issue is, there hasn’t been any news at all. No sightings, no suspects, nothing. Bruce felt challenged in a way. Something is in Gotham, living in his city and he feels like he’s still so far from discovering who or what it is. For the world's greatest detective is having a hard time solving this case. How frustrating.

With no news of another quantum breach, big or small, nothing. It’s frustrating. What’s even more of a headache about this unsolved case, is another thing that has come to his attention- thanks Jim.

Bruce started hearing more reports of a new ‘vigilante’. But there are no pictures, no camera footage, no evidence, just testimonies, occasional sightings and witnesses. Nothing concrete, nothing solid, just no proof. So frustrating.

And there is a pattern.

What he does know is that they are always quick and efficient, never staying too long, leaving once or before the police arrive, and it’s always low level crooks like muggers or thiefs. Respectful and polite (from those they saved) and they mostly keep to the shadows of the night.

Whoever this new problem is, is trying to stay hidden and Batman doesn’t like that at all. Not. One. Bit.

Despite the Narrows being Duke’s territory, he is just one person who patrols in the daytime, so some of his sons and daughter help patrol at night. But it seems this newcomer has incredible luck and scurries off everytime they are even close to their location.

But this doesn’t mean Batman will just let it go, oh no. Of course not silly, he’s going to find this new vigilante and see what they are about. He’s going to evaluate them, judge them, and all it takes is one mess up. Just one and he will make sure they are locked up in Arkham.

A bit extreme, possibly. But he will take no chances, not when it comes to the safety of his city. Gotham is his to protect and defend, he’s keeping many eyes out for this intruder. Watch your back.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding hour B, but I have something I think you want to know. Also you have a message from Commissioner Gordon.” A new voice spoke through his comms.

“On my way.” He replied.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” a third voice snapped. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Explain.” Batman demanded.

“So you see…”

After the failed attempt at contacting Miguel, you spent a couple of all nighters in advancing your beacon. This time, it would require even more energy but now it won’t cause a potential blackout. But it will notify the bats of your location like last time.

You know you have to be extra fucking careful this time. You might have gotten lucky those days ago in not getting caught, but you know your luck is shit anyways and Batman is one paranoid mother fucker. Him and his wards.

You have to be very cautious in where you go and how you will do this. This new connector is a bit more sturdier than the lightweight one you made before, but this time it also won’t require you to be stuck in one place. Actually, your signal will ping in more than one location. It will bounce off the cell towers and throw a fake location.

This will certainly tip the scales to your favor in avoidance of detection. Now, you won’t have to rely on your (shit) spider luck!

All you have to do is to connect it to a phone or computer, and connect that to any service in the area and manually set it off- which you can easily hack. There is only one tiny itty bitty problem. Guessed it yet? No? Well it’s simple, the only problem is- YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE.

You could theoretically use the library computer but with civilians around you is a big major no. You’re also pretty sure the library closes at like 8 or something.

No worries. You have a solution for this baby problem. Is it build one yourself? Pfft- fuck no. You don’t have time to build a phone and even less for a computer, you still have to tweak your god damn watch for fuck sake. So, you’re just going to buy one.

And with what money- I hear you ask. Simple. You’re going to make some. Time to become Spider-woman again.

Only until you have enough for a decent phone- you said. It’ll be easy- you said. Until you were proven wrong.

You spent two days hunting and defeating crooks, webbing the worst ones up, while the not so bad but are making shitty choices were let go (with the promise of hunting them down should they go back to doing bad stuff). Some advice here and there, pickpocketing criminal’s money, you know, the usual shabang.

Can’t forget you’re avoiding all cameras so as to not give yourself away. Though you almost got caught by the police once, haha. You never stick around long enough to get spotted by the bats or the cops.

Until one night, dressed as a normal civilian, you were coming back from a shelter, turning a corner and you were immediately surrounded by a group of thugs wanting to rob you. You literally have nothing, so the only thing they would be robbing is your backpack with extra clothes and your suit. And maybe like two granola bars.

You tried to charm your way out of this situation because first of all, youre fucking tired, two, you don’t have time for baby shit, and three, you’re about to start tweaking. Of course the five men didn’t take your sarcastic remarks lightly and decided that their knives would do the talking.

So you beat them up. All five of them. 60 seconds was all it took. So to recompense wasting a minute of your time, you loot their cash discreetly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well dressed man popped out of nowhere, getting close to you and you warned him you would break his wrist if he touched you- he still came but didn’t touch you. Holding out a black card he presented it to your face.

“You fight well, kid. If you want to make money fast,real money, call me and go here.”

“Um, I’m not a k-”

“You’ll make hundreds.” He cut you off. Rude. ”And if you impress the boss like you did me, you can make more.”

Spider luck?

Oh well that got your attention. Eyes narrowed. “Fast money, how?”

“Did no one ever teach ya about ‘stranger danger’? It’s a fight club, if you will. A tournament if you’re interested.”

Spider luck.

After pondering it for a quick second, here you are, getting a card with a free invite to a ring, probably filled with big, crazy, and most likely wanted criminals, and you get paid to beat them up? Sign me the fuck up. “I’m very interested.” you nod.

The man gave a crooked smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I’m not-” The man walked away and inside a white limo car. Fuck you.

So you went the next day. Making sure you wore your normal clothes, just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and your face mask, you called the guy.

Meeting him was uninteresting, conversations were nothing exciting, just asking you your fighting style, can you take on a big guy, and whatnot.

Upon entering the place (behind a well known bar) you were led to a ring, two fighters going at it. You watched how one was clearly more experienced than the other, while the other guy was battered and bleeding but still fighting. Blood spraying everywhere with every hit until he hit the ground cold.

It certainly is a sight.

It was that very day that you had your very first fight.

Stepping into the ring with no prep, no bandages, no helmet, nothing, this was a raw fight through and through, you were immediately booed and laughed at. Tough crowd.

Of course you were not going against a stereotypical big muscular guy that looks like he could bench press a tank. No, in fact you were against a young military deserter as your first opponent. Scars and all. Across his neck laid an identification tag (also known as dog tag). Christopher Conner.

The man in front of you sneered, laughing at you. “No way they sent me a kid. I will break all your bones. Don’t start crying too soon.” he cooed.

He taunted you and the crowd loved it. You, on the other hand, were pretty bored and unimpressed.

“I’m not a kid…” you huffed behind your face mask.

What was able to be seen on your face must have told him that because he didn’t like being ignored.

So he swung, a clear hit to be a knock out. You swerve.

This time he kicked, you parried.

He did not like that. Soon a game ensued. Hit attacking and you either blocking or dodging. You didn’t even need your spider sense, you got this in the bag, honestly this was quite sad. The crowd went from booing you to insulting Christopher.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Hit the kid!”

“My money’s riding on you dickface!”

“Don’t you dare lose motherfucker, or I’ll shoot you!”

It seems their insults were getting to the man. You on the other hand kinda started to feel bad.

“Stand still you fucker!” Christopher growled, throwing punches.

You scoffed, “My aunt throws faster punches than you Chris.” You can almost taste the bloodlust seeping from his pores. “Hey man, it's been three minutes, surely you can end this, right?”

Chris’s jaw clenched in anger. He was about to explode. A voice called out your name.

“Nada! Stop wasting time and finish it kid. Or you won’t get paid.” What? What a scam! You’re trying to entertain yourself too y’know, guess this will be a way to relieve stress.

Facing the military man you didn’t give him a second to process when you blew him a kiss and then a fist made contact with his chin, effectively knocking him out the second his back hit the ring walls. “I’m not a kid.”

The crowd was silent before chaos broke. Half the crowd booed and threatened the fallen man, while the other half started cheering.

With how unsatisfied most people were, you had to fight three more times. Each time, you won, with no scratches on you (you did pretend to get hit at times for realism). Each victory secures you cheers and hype.

By the end of your last fight, it was dark out and you were walked off by the same man that brought you here. “Good job kid. I know you were the right call.”

“I’m not-” A thick envelope was thrown. Catching it, you opened it up to find money, lots of money. “Woah.”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Like it? You can make more the more you win.”

Still entrance by the stack of green you nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.” The man walked off and you stared at the money.

“Booyah baby!”

You bought a phone the next morning.

And so it’s been five days since then. You weren’t in a desperate need for money anymore, so you cut your fights down from five to two a day. You still needed time to continue fixing your beacon. Spider-woman sightings have also significantly decreased the more you noticed the increase in security.

You were not taking any chances.

Walking towards the somewhat empty bar, you greeted the bouncer and headed inside to an ‘employees only’ door to meet the guy in the suit. He did tell you his name, but you call him ‘Suit’ in your head regardless.

“Hey there Nada,” He hears a sigh from behind the mask. “Listen, kid, you’re one of my best fighters, but I need you to lay low for a while. Here.”

Catching a burner phone you tilt your head for an explanation, pocketing it. “Cops?”

“Worse.” he sighs, slicking his hair back. “Bats.”

Fucking spider luck.

Like a bucket of ice and cold water was dumped on you, blood turning cold. You froze in terror. You should have guessed that a hidden fighting ring would not be kept hidden for long. The criminals that you fought and were downright nasty, you made sure they were caught outside and far away from this location.

And it was random from a list you composed. Enough to make sure you weren’t a suspect. But fuck now you have to erase your presense here. You’re a nobody, Nada, nothing. Guess it really is time to lay lower than low, like a ghost. “I won’t come back then.” Voice serious and cold.

He laughed, pulling out an envelope from his suit's inner pocket. “S’that so?” Handing it out for you to take, his eyes burn into yours. “Then I’ll just have ta hunt you down, kid.”

Taking the envelope (it felt thicker and heavier than usual) and placing it in your pocket you chuckled, cold, fake, calculating. “Try. I’m good at hiding.” Walking away, hands in pocket, feeling both the envelope and the burner phone, turning your body to avoid bumping into a familiar guy speed walking in. “I’m not a kid…” you mumbled to yourself.

You didn’t bother glancing at the man you dubbed ‘Suit’, real name Jacob Sullivan Jones. It seems it’s time for JSJ to have a run in with the Gotham City Police Department.

It is truly fortunate that Jacob doesn’t know where you're staying. Although he might not know about the warehouse inside the junkyard, he does know you are not a resident with no permanent home. He had stalked you for a bit after the first meeting (the bouncer was so easy to spot really), believing you’re homeless, alone, and a nobody (someone who nobody would miss or look for). You’re using that (somewhat of a mis)information to your advantage.

Leaving the desolate bar, thoughts consumed by the written list of criminals you drafted and plan to anonymously give it to the GCPD. How you got the other criminals caught was simple, you always used a payphone and gave anonymous tips. That won’t work here. At least not fully. Knowing the corruption, maybe you should hand it to the one of the cops you know isn’t corrupt.

Now, do you hack the police and email it? Print it/fax it and send it? Or hand it directly but as spider-woman? Well for starters, the second option is garbage because if the right person doesn’t see it first, it will just get covered up. Hacking into the GCPD and emailing it directly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, the only issue is, if they decided to forward that information to the bats, you’re fucked because then you know they’ll dig in and somehow find out about you.

It seems like going in as Spider-woman is the best bet, but then again, the bats are real close, too close for comfort. Should you take the risk? But if you don’t turn these criminals in, it will stay in your consciousness of letting innocents down. Guess you have to suck it up and do it then.

“This sucks” you mumbled, deep in thought.

Suddenly you felt your body freeze. Feeling your spider sense go haywire, you looked up and hard swerved to the side, avoiding bumping into a stranger.

It seemed that your sudden change in direction caught the stranger’s attention and the person next to him, both heads snapped towards you.

Hands out of pocket awkwardly waving in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Taking a look at the one you almost bumped into, he is tall, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes.

Taking note of your embarrassment the stranger chuckles, looking into your eyes, “No worries! Nice reflexes though!”

The stranger’s partner scowled in your direction and you could feel his eyes burning you alive. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” Venom.

“Don’t be rude, Dame.”

“Don’t call me that. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Alrighty then, guess it’s time to fuck off. “Yes, thank you- again, so sorry.” You don’t even spare the other guy a glance, quickly scurrying off. Your spider sense hasn’t shut off and you don’t like where this is going. “Good bye.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.”

Not turning back, you quickened to a brisk walk away from this nauseating area. This whole goddamn experience is so nauseating. You just wanted to go home. Was that soooooo much to ask? Regardless, you did not want to know what those strangers wanted, and you were taught ‘stranger danger’ and it certainly applied here.

After a certain distance later, your senses dulled into a small buzz as you turned a corner and entered the public library. Taking your usual empty seat, you let out a deep sigh. This was what you were used to since coming into this world. Since being yoinked from another dimension and plopped in this universe, your senses never really shut off. It was like everything in this world was a danger, and it only spiked when reacting to blood lust, danger of a certain radius, and people who are incredibly strong.

Recalling that one stranger, who looked too innocent enough for it to be bloodlust, just that their presence caught you so off guard. But your senses screamed at you, and it terrified you to an extent. This is why you can never really relax being here, even when you’re alone in the warehouse, you just feel so out of place, and in danger constantly. It was beginning to eat you up honestly.

You miss your innocent youthful days. God you sound old. But you really do miss having a home to go back to. A home where once you step inside, it’s warm, and two people would always greet you like a warm embrace.

Now it’s cold and desolate, barely anything inside, empty and lonely.

But now, you can’t even go there anymore. Even if it was painful to live in the same home that had more members, then reduced to just you, it was still home.

You can’t even go home.

Remembering the words Jacob Sullivan Jones spoke to you earlier, you fish out the envelope. Taking note of the weight, it was decided to open it and find more than usual.

Picking up a small zip-lock bag, your eyes widened. It was an ID, an ID and a passport. Just what the fuck was Jacob going to do with giving you this? Why did he make this for you? What were his plans? No, you can’t think about that. This is a blessing for sure, and you’ll take it- but, you have to put Jacob in prison. Now.

This is a gift and you know that with criminals, all gifts are never for free. This is a ‘you owe me’ gift. “Fuck, this sucks.” You just want a moment of peace.

Think, you have to think. Now you have an identification, but, you don’t know if you’re in the system, since once again, incase you forgot, you don’t fucking exist here. Whatever Jacob was thinking, you definitely don’t want a part of it. You’re going to put a stop to this now.

Though, recalling the two strangers earlier, you don’t bother with the rude one of the two, more focused on the one with blue eyes. Something about him just stuck out to you. He looked vaguely familiar.

Okay, let’s take this from the top. You felt a strong sense of precaution, thus causing your spider sense to alert you. Your sense only went away when you were a considerable distance away from those two, so you know it’s about the strangers. Bases covered, perfect. What’s next?

You only really focused on the one who you almost touched, so let’s continue from there. He is tall, a welldefine body, black hair, and vibrant blue eyes. That’s all you remember seeing now for what you heard. His friend/partner/acquaintance/fellow party member said ‘Kent’, this could be his name or surname but the name ‘Kent’ makes your throat clogged. You only know of another Kent and it’s a superhero.

It couldn’t be…right?

Turning the computer on, you started typing away, fingers trembling, heart thumping loudly, head spinning, and body sweating. Please, please, please, be wrong. You prayed.

The window search lands on a somewhat recent news. Superman and Superboy save hundreds during bridge collapse! By Lois Lane Kent.

In the photo, on the front page was a scene, both Superman and Superboy. The older one was holding a piece of a bridge while the other younger one was using his heat vision. This was Superman’s son. And you came into contact with him.

You were royally fucking screwed.

Fuck- fuck! No, no nono!

All the anxiety you tried to lock away came like a tsunami. You were reminded of how small you are in this world. How easy it is to find trouble even without looking. You wanted no part in this world but it seems the gods wanted to fuck you over and over again.

And, as much as you wanted to curse out the Spot for yeeting you far faaaaaaar from your universe, you only blame yourself for latching onto him and getting lost on the way to his next destination.

God this sucks! You wanted to curl up and cry, but you can’t. You’re a big girl and so, you’ll deal with this fuckery later. After all, your best trait was putting your issues to the side and focusing on the bigger picture. This- meeting Superman’s son can wait. After all, you haven’t run into any bats besides Signal- yes you researched him when you had free time (you only knew of him but not really who he was), so for now, your spider luck has been blessing you thus far.

You need to focus on the bigger picture, getting Jacob and the other criminals caught.

Getting to work, you begin to type away your list that you memorized, the location of the bar, the owner of the bar was still a mystery but the one who runs it is Jacob, schedule of the bouncer shifts, and the names and alias of those who you encountered as well as the situation of misguided teens. You type it all, making sure to keep your real and fake identity out, you did put in your alias Nada, as a picked up street kid. Enough for it to be a ‘misguided’ teen situation but not enough to catch someone’s attention unless they were looking for it.

Now that you know you ran into Clark Kent’s son (a deduction), you know you can’t risk encountering him as spider-woman. Knowing that Superman can (somehow) memorize and identify someone based on their heart beat or whatever, so fuck no are you going to parade as spider-woman any time soon.

You swear to god that you will do everything you can to avoid meeting them in both their civilian personas and alter egos.

Calming yourself, you get ready to hack the GCPD, and leave a message.

‘They know. Scatter.’

It hits you. The epiphany of why Jacob had an ID and passport made for you. They were moving locations. Abandoning fort, and taking anyone who they wanted. Basically a trafficking ring for those who weren’t onboard, and a new opportunity for those who they saw potential in.

Shit, you should have stopped this when Jacob found you, but you didn’t know anything then. Now it could be too late. But Jacob did say to lay low, so they’re mostly biding their time. Probably erasing, hiding, and misplacing real and fake evidence.

They need to get exposed now, ‘strike while the iron is hot’ as the saying goes.

It seems like it’s time to meet the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, James “Jim” Gordon, as Spider-woman. How fun…

Way to contratic your fucking promise so soon. Well, at least it’s a civilian and not a hero/vigilante. “This fucking sucks.”

Damian scoffed when Tim wanted to force his father the Batman into his lead. It’s not that he doesn’t want his father, it’s just this is an undercover sort of situation. He got a lead when he went to interrogate a pathetic military criminal. He can handle this mission on his own.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” Damian heard Jon chuckle, most likely overhearing this conversation with his super hearing. What a nuisance. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Well that was something. So, what’s the plan that you didn’t want Lizzie to be involved in?”

“Focus, Jon.” Damian explained their stakeout first, before going to don their costumes. Deep in their conversation, Damian caught sight of one of the suspects speed walking past them. He brings this to Jon’s attention. “It's him, the mercenary Christopher Conner.”

“Okay, so this bar is the place. Let me check real quick.” Using his vision, Jon’s eyebrow furrows. “Next door is styled like a wrestling ring, only two exits. From here and from an office. This is the place.”

“Then we’ll change and apprehend the criminal. Watch and hear what he is saying.” Jon followed Damian’s lead when someone jumped out of his way like he was burning them, causing Damian to also turn his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Despite the mask covering their mouth, their voice of this buffoon sounded androgynous, their clothes didn’t help to differentiate a gender either. But what he can see were this stranger’s eyes, and he can’t look away.

It seems neither can Jon as he chuckles and waves off the encounter. “No worries! Nice reflexes though!” Jon makes it very obvious he’s staring hard.

Just what is it about this total insignificant stranger that caught Damian’s undivided attention? From what he can see, they look normal (can’t really tell with that face mask though), but there is just something that has him unable to take his eyes off of them.

Jon has the same issue, and Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowls. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.”

Jon, without breaking eye contact, scolds Damina. “Don’t be rude, Dame.”

Snapping out of this trance, he snaps back,” Don’t call me that.” That’s right, they are on a mission, no distractions allowed. “We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Jon looks at Damian, as he too, regains his focus, eyes staring into each other as if communicating, he nods. They can come back to this after they finish their assignment.

“Yes, thank you- again, so sorry. Good bye.” The stranger quickly scurried off.

Caught off guard Jon impulsively extended his arm out to grab their shoulder. “Hey wait a minute!”

Damian acted faster, grabbing Jon’s arm. “What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.” Pointing towards the bar with his head. This isn’t good, they’re getting sidetracked.

Jon didn’t turn to look at Damian, no he was still staring at the stranger. “I just wanted to ask…” He trailed off as he strained his ears, focusing on their heartbeat, their breathing patterns, anything he could to commit to memory. “For their name.”

Damian, too, side glanced at the retreating figure, dissecting the way they moved, their tensed shoulders, everything until they were out of sight.

Jon wanted to ask their name. Was that weird? Their situation didn’t require him to ask their name. How would he even go about it, ‘Sorry for almost bumping into you, hey can I ask for your name?’ Yea, no.

“Damian, I-” Jon began before getting caught off.

“I know. We’ll deal with that later,” His eyes narrow, glancing at the bar. “Focus.” But he too was entranced. But he was much better at pushing that to the side, but he knows he won’t be able to hold it off for now. The best he can do is rein in Jon’s attention to the assignment.

Moving to a cafe nearby with a good view of the bar’s entrance, they ordered some drinks. This wasn’t Damians idea but he’ll let Jon have his way for cooperating.

Jon nodded, getting back into focus, using his super hearing to overhear the conversation inside the bar.

His stomach tingles at the thought of asking the stranger for their name.

Hand discreetly on his year Damian spoke, “Drake, look into the time of now and send it over to me.”

“Hey- wait-” Tim was caught off guard, “What’s this about? I thought you didn’t ‘require assistance’ for this.” He teased.

“I don’t.” He shut the comms off. Now, back to work. “What’s going on Jon?”

“This is our guy. He’s getting assigned to deliver a package. This is serious. He’s upset.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Tt. Follow.”

Jon tunes into the conversation again.

“The police aren’t the issue. It’s the costumes that have been spotted close. We already lost a couple of our men to the cops.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious? We have a traitor!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Chris? Ever since Sebastian was caught by the fucking commissioner, the others have been getting caught like flies here in Gotham. He’s spilling, so I need to silence him.”

“The usual?”

“No, not you this time. We’re leaving so I need you to focus on one more thing.”

“Is it about them, the one you want to recruit?”

“Yes, I want them-” a phone rang interrupting the conversation. “It’s the boss. Dismissed, I’ll send ya the rest later.”

“Understood sir. I’ll deliver the packages tonight.” The mercenary walked off, no longer as upset as earlier.

Jon, processing the information, becomes visibly upset. “They’re recruiting, and based on the conversation, it's the runaway and homeless teens that have been reported by the shelters. This is bigger than just Gotham. I think they’re leaving, moving somewhere else.”

“Let’s follow.” Damian’s attention was caught at the mercenary leaving the bar. “There.”

“The guy he was talking to said he would ‘send the rest later’, I think it will be on his phone.” Jon informed.

Damian absorbed the information. “We’ll follow and catch him red handed.”

“What about ‘the package’?” Jon questioned.

“What about them? I’ll forward the intel to the rest. We focus on this guy. The evidence on his phone is all we need.”

“Dame, I can’t with good conscience leave those vulnerable kids on their own.” Stressed Jon.

“And we’re not. The others will take care of it.” Damian replied. “When we apprehend the mercenary, acquire the intel, we go after this guy while the others detain their accomplices and rescue the runaways. They will all fall tonight, Jon, so focus.”

Jonathan Kent wanted to bite back, but he knows Damian ran this plan at least three times before bringing him along. Damian is just that strategic. And he places his full trust in him, god does this leave him unsatisfied. He knows those kids are trapped somewhere and if taking this mercenary and the manager from the bar out gets them safe faster, then he will do as he is told.

Something just feels out of place, this has been too easy so far. “Alright, he’s heading north.”

Damian nods, slipping away to change into his suit.

As if connected, Damian as well feels like things have been progressing smoothly. And when it comes to crimes committed in Gotham, when things are going good, then something isn’t right.

Ever since the first the GCPD have been arresting some low and decent levels of this new crime syndicate, news of some human trafficking organizations have been slowly getting uncovered as if by overnight. It started around five days ago, low level members were caught, and just two days ago, a higher member was arrested.

Ever since his father the Batman (he tagged along) interrogated him, he spilled like a waterfall. Since they have been cracking down on the case, they know this criminal organization is trying to get on the levels of Black Mask or The Penguin.

The only issue is, this was only exclusive to Gotham, now based on what Jon relay to him, this is just a small base, there are others. He refuses to let this go on any further. Not to his city, or his people. Yet, there is this itch in the back of his head. These captures were by far too easy, and these people aren’t sloppy. No, they had been operating for some time, and yet they were getting caught like moths to a flame due to anonymous tips being called in. Someone out there is deliberately getting these scumbags caught.

And Batman believes it could possibly have a connection to the other pressing issue that’s consuming his thought. There has to be a connection to the quantum disturbance from a little over a week ago. It’s just too coincidental for it not to be.

Something is happening in Gotham, and he will get to the bottom of this.

You know, people say to plan for everything, thus making Batman a force to be reckoned with since he is the master of having contingency plans and backup plans for those backup plans. And yet, here you are, with a plan and life just wants to fuck you over and expects you to just deal with it.

No.

After coming up with spider-woman handing the commissioner Jim Gordon a list of criminals and misguided teens, you just needed to go and change. But here you are, running into a situation if you will.

You see, after running away from Superman's son, and a printed list folded neatly in your pocket as you head ‘home’, you started to feel the icky sensation of being watched. Years of experience and knowing how not to tip off that you know, you head away from your place of operations and head up north.

Though despite not giving signs of how utterly fucking tense and anxious you are, you rationalize that it can not be any of the birds because you haven’t done anything suspicious. That, and the fact that your spider sense isn’t screaming at you of danger so for now, that’s calming you down.

On the other hand, you still have no clue who is following you. It was like, thirty minutes since running into the super, and no call from the burner phone. This whole ‘being followed’ is a fucking nuisance, putting a wrench in your plans.

The only good thing is that, since you are technically surrounded by civilians walking about, they can’t really do anything to you, unless they want to cause panic amongst the innocents. Though, that wouldn’t stop someone from shooting you if they wanted you dead.

Still, regardless if you are wanted dead (highly unlikely) or alive (for whatever reason) you don’t want to lead innocent civilians into this, so away you go! Informing Jim Gordon can wait (not it can’t), you’ll lose your pursuer and then catch them!

Turning a corner, into alleyways, zig zagging, you hear their footsteps pick up. Persistent.

While running away, you form theories. We crossed out the batsonas, you haven’t done or got caught with anything to be on their radar afterall, it can’t be a random crook because for one, you look poor too, and second, they’re chasing you for a reason. Another idea was maybe it has something to do with Jacob. But that doesn’t make much sense since you just got a burner phone.

Something just isn’t adding up.

Your spider sense spiked as you turned down a corner. Despite this, you kept going straight, ready to take on whoever was going to appear in front of you.

With a very good distance between you and your pursuer you took this chance to discard your mask and sweatshirt (thank god for having a tank top) ontop of a parked motorcycle as you turned another corner, there stood a man near the end of the alleyway, tall and (once again) wellbuilt, with black hair just standing there, phone in hand.

Quickly you jogged towards him (he glanced your way) and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Sorry, please play along!” you whispered and pulled him.

The stranger only had one second to figure out what was happening. In that split second though, he heard a plea for help. The next thing he knew, he had his free hand on the wall above your head while the other one was moved to your waist. Back towards the wall and having his big frame engulf yours, you let his arm go and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him towards your face.

It's only then that you take in his appearance, handsome from what you can see, and your heart dropped. “I’m being followed,” you muttered, noticing the stranger’s eyes roam your face before settling on your eyes. “I don’t know who they are.”

The man in front of you nodded, kept in place as footsteps hastily turned the corner, running past the both of you. Your body tensed up watching the hooded figure stop at the end of the alleyway. Taking the chance to observe the guy, he pulled out a phone while looking both ways before exiting from your view.

While you were distracted the stranger in front of you pulled back, making your release your hold. He was quiet. “Once again, I’m so sorry! Thank you!” You nervously backed away, in the opposite direction your pursuer went.

He grunted, watching you walk back away. He opened his mouth to speak but the phone in his hand began to ring. He glanced down at the caller before looking back up.

You were already gone, picking up your sweatshirt and mask, donning them on and running away. Your heart was pounding so loud, it rang in your ear. That was Jason mother fucking Todd. You ran into the Red Hood. What the fuck was he doing in the Narrows?!

Recalling the words Jacob spoke earlier, it echoed through your head. ‘Bats.’ That’s right. The fucking bats are intown, and this was too close for comfort. This sucks balls!

“Focus, focus. Officer Gordon, here I come.” To the junkyard you go.

Jason watched the very pretty woman leave him with his thoughts. Getting pulled into caging someone against a back alley wall was not in his cards today, but with Gotham, one always has to expect the unexpected.

Speaking of the unexpected, he let himself momentarily get distracted recalling the bold stranger from earlier. Something about this woman, rendered him quiet. But at the same time, he took note of just how anxious she was. Tensed body, eyebrows furrowed, worried expression, scared eyes, and over all the way she held onto him while losing her pursuer. He wondered just what kind of trouble found her. It seems crime really doesn’t stop during the daylight.

He committed her face to memory, and will touch upon her situation once he finished his current assignment.

“You still there?” the voice spoke from his phone.

“Yea, I’m still here. I’m in the Narrows, following the lead.”

“Good, while Damian follows the mercenary, you got the manager. I’m seeing some suspicious moments. Turn on your commlink, Bruce is already moody as he is.”

“When isn’t he like that.” Jason rolled his eyes as he walked back to his bike that he parked further in the alley. Before taking off, he glanced in the direction the stranger went. Her actions and the sound of her voice repeated inside his mind like an echo, burning itself in his memory.

Prev; Next;

I realized everything I wanted for this chapter did not happen. So now it's split into two parts- oops. Side note, this will not be a yandere series, though I do think they get 'possessive' sure, not yandere though. I finally know how I am going to end the Act, the issue is the in between that I struggle with.

Yay, you met Jon and Jason. Next up are Cass, Steph, Dick, and Tim the only ones left.

Web Bound Secret Corner!

Spider-Woman had an eidetic memory.

Spider-Woman does not know about the trafficked kids.

Spider-Woman did not notice Damian.

If Spider-Woman had to choose between saving a life and going home, she'd save the life.

Spider-Woman's is bad at grieving and worse with failure.

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unnamedcorvid · 12 days ago

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i was relistening to Part 6 and just really love and want to think more about Arthur’s behavior here and the snapshot it gives into his character cause like. This is Arthur before pretty much all of The Horrors. He’s flourishing. Just out of a nice month-long nap and has a new mystery to solve. He’s in his element here! This is what he Does! It’s probably one of the closest peeks we get into what his life had been like before everything, how he did his detective work, all of that. We learn how he goes about his investigations (before any of the post-horror desperation and moral issues hit) and just. This is how he worked. This is what he Did.

and what do we see? CRIMES. this man commits CRIMES. on the DAILY. without a second thought. just acts like it’s totally and completely normal.

this man walks into a store and very casually, matter-of-factly lists off the items he wants. A .45 Automatic with bullets to go along, a flashlight, matches, and a way to force a lock. like. That shit outta put him on a list or something, ESPECIALLY when he’s asked for an ID he says he doesn’t have one, and just. buys a new (fake) one. like. Thank god that clerk was dirty or else he’d be arrested cause what the fuck kinda sketchy shopping list is that? my brother in christ I don’t think there is any legal reason to have a way to force a lock. not to mention that and a GUN

Then he promptly heads off to a recently murdered girl’s apartment, and when finding the door locked, just picks it. Without a moments hesitation. And he does it really fuckin fast too, like. You know that guy’s had a Ton of practice. he did that in like one single second while blind and without control of one hand. he even admits it, says he’s done this many times. this guy’s a fucking menace.

Once inside the apartment (that he broke into. also the apartment of a recently murdered girl, not just dead but MURDERED like. She was KILLED HERE not even a week ago. this was a CRIME SCENE) he just kinda. Rummages around and takes a book. I mean yeah, she is dead, but also. you can’t just break into someone’s apartment and snatch their shit my guy??

and then at the docks. oh my GOD dude. You’d THINK a GROWN ASS MAN would maybe CONSIDER the CONSEQUENCES of STEALING A WHOLE ASS FUCKING BOAT OFF A PUBLIC DOCK IN BROAD DAYLIGHT but NOOO. that’s actually his instant go-to. Can’t get a ride? cool, I’m stealing a boat. there wasn’t even a second of hesitation or deliberation. What to do next? Oh I know. Steal a fucking boat. doesn’t even think of the consequences or that there’s actively people here (and he just gave his name to one), just up and takes it. it’s such a normal thing to do.

anyway all this to say that Arthur Lester Malevolent has always been a feral little creature with no regard for conventional approaches. he’s always been like this. I mean yeah he’s gotten So Much Worse but like. he didn’t start from ground zero either. Even in Part 4, when he needed to distract Kellin, when his first idea to honk the horn on his truck was turned down, his next instant suggestion was SET HIS HOUSE ON FIRE. there is no middle ground with this man. he will always jump straight to crimes without a second thought and I love that for him

#im rambling #is this coherent. I don’t know #I’m absolutely enamored with this guy in case you can’t tell #I’m studying him like a little bug in a jar. shakin it around a lil #I love how absolutely normal all of this is to him #just a day in the life of a private investigator #this is so very much Not the first time he’s done any of these things #and like. it’s not like John is gonna say anything this guy still condones murder #and like. it’s not like John is gonna try and correct him. that guy still condones murder he’s all for committing Crimes #they’re horrible. absolute menaces to society and I love them #malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester malevolent #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #thinking thoughts

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mylovesstuffs · 5 months ago

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Objection, Your Honor ! – Lee Chan

Genre: Non-idol au, legal au, detective-prosecutor au, workplace romance and enemies to lovers

Pairing: Dino × fem!reader

Content: Office romance, crime-solving duo/trio, tension, banter, flawed characters, detective/prosecutor dynamic, explicit sexual content MDNI! strong language, intense arguments, suggestive comments, making out, lotssss of kissing, Dino is cocky, reader loses her patience 99% of the time

Word count: 8657 words

A/N: Had to add the word razor every chance I got, lol. I expanded this picture of him with ai since it didn’t fit before. I changed his hair strands, skin, and stuff—and even his eye lenses myself meticulously (not ai). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please reblog :( and happiest birthday to our Dino! He’s amazing just the way he is—so full of energy, talent, and charm that he never fails to inspire us all. I hope this year brings him nothing but happiness, success, and moments where he feels truly proud of everything he’s accomplished. He’s one of a kind, and the world is brighter because of him. I’m still waiting for him to give me a chance, though...

The slam of the file against your desk was so loud it nearly toppled your coffee mug. You flinched but didn’t look up immediately. No, acknowledging theatrics only fed the beast. Instead, you calmly capped your pen, setting it down with deliberate precision. He hated when you did this—acted like you had all the time in the world when he came storming in.

“You’re welcome for the heart attack,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You exhaled slowly through your nose before finally glancing up. There he was, Detective Lee Chan—better known as Dino, the human embodiment of caffeine and stupidity. His tie was undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had that same infuriating smirk plastered on his face, as if he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

“Detective,” you said with a polite nod, lacing your voice with as much fake sweetness as you could muster. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this… unexpected visit?”

“I brought you a gift,” he said, sliding the file closer to you. “A slam-dunk case. You’ll love it. All the evidence is right there. Can’t miss.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Last time you said that, I spent three weeks untangling jurisdiction issues. Do you even know how many late nights I had to pull because of you?”

Dino wasn’t actually an idiot no matter how many reckless decisions he makes. His instincts were razor-sharp, his record impeccable, and annoyingly enough he was usually right when it mattered. Last month, for example, his so-called ‘gut feeling’ about a drug ring being connected to a string of convenience store robberies was spot-on. His lead cracked open a case that had stumped everyone else for months. But damn if his delivery didn’t make you want to strangle him sometimes.

Dino, unbothered by your skepticism. “Yeah, but we nailed that drug ring, didn’t we?”

You hated when he was right and he knew it. “Fine,” you muttered, pulling the top file toward you and flipping it open. A mid-level burglary case, nothing too flashy at first glance. But as you skimmed through his notes, it was tight, methodical, and annoyingly thorough—you spotted the potential for something bigger.

“This better not be a ‘just trust me’ situation,” you said, glancing up at him. “If I’m staying late over this, it better pay off.”

He grinned, pushing off the desk. “Relax, Prosecutor. You know I don’t miss. This one’s airtight.”

And the thing that frustrated you most was that, you knew he was probably right. Dino didn’t swing unless he knew he’d hit the target. But it didn’t mean you had to let him bask in the glory without making him sweat first.

Now you opened the next file flipping through the pages. But this time the further you read, the deeper the pit in your stomach grew. And not in a good way. This wasn’t a slam dunk. It wasn’t even a half-hearted layup.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, shaking your head as you thumbed through the mess of paperwork. “You interrogated the suspect without a lawyer present?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t ask for one.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “You didn’t inform him of his rights properly, did you?”

“Details, details.”

“And this eyewitness? The one who conveniently claims they saw the suspect fleeing the scene? They’re twelve, Dino. Twelve.”

“Kids are observant!” he protested.

“They’re also notoriously unreliable in court. Oh, and let’s not forget this,” you said, holding up a grainy surveillance photo that looked like it had been taken with a potato. “Is this your so-called smoking gun? Because it could literally be anyone.”

Dino, arms crossed, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just presented you with a flaming dumpster fire disguised as a case. “You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!” He sat up, his chair scraping against the floor. “The point is, this guy is guilty. I know it. You know it. Hell, even he knows it. Why are you so hung up on the technicalities?”

“Technicalities?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your best efforts. “You mean the law? The thing we’re both supposedly here to uphold?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me the lecture. Do you even care about justice, or is paperwork your true love?”

Your jaw tightened. “Do you even care about rules, or is your brain just made of air?”

The words hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot. For a minute, neither of you spoke, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

There was a reason the firm always paired you with Dino for the cases no one else could touch, the ones buried under decades of dust or tangled in enough red tape to suffocate an entire department. It wasn’t because you liked each other—oh, God, no. The mere sight of Dino’s cocky smirk had you fantasizing about slamming his face into your meticulously organized desk. And you were pretty sure your obsession with the rulebook made him consider hurling you off the nearest courthouse steps.

No, the firm didn’t stick you together because you worked well; they did it because you got results.

Dino was a wildcard in the courtroom. He was reckless in a way that somehow always paid off. He’d bend every rule in the book, dive headfirst into risks that no sane professional would take, and then, just when everyone thought he was about to crash and burn, he’d pull off a result so airtight it left no room for appeal. To him, the law wasn’t some sacred structure but a weapon to be wielded, a chessboard where his unpredictable moves kept everyone including you on edge. But then there was you: the polar opposite. Where Dino thrived on improvisation, you thrived on preparation. Every motion you filed was flawless. Every precedent cited, every objection raised, was calculated. You built cases brick by brick, layering facts, timelines, and evidence until there was no room for doubt. You didn’t gamble, didn’t deviate, didn’t take risks. You didn’t need to because your method was bulletproof.

So, of course, throwing the two of you together was a recipe for war. You didn’t just clash; you collided like two freight trains on a collision course. Dino would rush into a strategy meeting late, armed with some half-baked plan, reeking of coffee and audacity, while you’d already drafted three versions of the closing argument. You’d roll your eyes at his recklessness; he’d scoff at your obsession with boring technicalities. It wasn’t just your approaches that set you off, though. It was the way he got under your skin. Dino had this uncanny ability to needle you in just the right way. He’d make some offhand comment about your obsession with color-coded spreadsheets or the way you probably alphabetized your sock drawer and you’d feel your blood pressure skyrocket. But you weren’t innocent, either. You knew exactly how to press his buttons, whether it was calling his brilliant-but-illegal idea juvenile or quietly rephrasing his arguments in court to make them admissible without giving him credit. And yet as much as you hated each other, the firm couldn’t stop throwing you together. Those cases where everything was on the line, went to you and Dino. Why? Because for all the throat-slitting arguments, for all the nights you spent slamming doors and trading insults that could scorch earth, you delivered. Together.

It wasn’t pretty. Your fights were the stuff of office legend. Once, he stormed into your workspace at 2 a.m. after you’d rejected one of his leads as ‘inadmissible garbage.’ You’d stood toe-to-toe, voices raised to the point that security came by to check if someone was being assaulted. Another time, you’d shredded one of his witness strategies so thoroughly in a meeting that the room fell silent. Dino didn’t speak to you for three days after that which, honestly, was the most peaceful stretch of your career. But whenever you were on a case together, something just clicked. Dino’s instincts and risk-taking cracked open doors that no amount of careful planning ever could. Meanwhile, your meticulous follow-through turned his madcaps into something actionable. It was maddening, really. He’d drag you into situations so precarious they felt like career suicide, and you’d spend hours, sometimes days, pulling everything back from the brink. But in the end it always paid off.

Take the Serrano case, for example. A cold case involving a missing heiress, dismissed as a dead end by everyone else. Dino had dragged you into some dilapidated motel off the interstate to interrogate a retired cop. The guy’s statement wasn’t even admissible, and you told Dino as much, several times, in increasingly colorful language. But damned if Dino didn’t come away with a critical piece of information: the location of a long-abandoned storage locker. The locker led to evidence, which led to a confession, which led to a headline-making conviction. And as much as you hated to admit it, the case would’ve gone nowhere without his reckless brilliance. Of course, Dino never let you live it down. “You’re welcome,” he’d say, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t nearly given you an ulcer.

The truth was, you couldn’t stand Dino because you saw what made him dangerous: he was too smart for his own good. He didn’t play by the rules because he didn’t need to. He could charm his way out of trouble, think on his feet, and pull victories out of situations that should’ve been unwinnable. And that terrified you, because it made you question everything you believed about the law, about order, about the system you’d built your entire career on. And Dino couldn’t stand you because you represented everything he hated: authority, rigidity, rules. He thought you were too stuck in your ways to see the bigger picture, too concerned with ticking boxes to actually fight for justice. He saw your meticulousness as a cage, not a strength. You didn’t see eye to eye, you barely saw each other as human but when it came to the job, you were a fucking force of nature. And that’s what made working with Dino so antagonizing. Because for all the fights, all the late-night shouting matches, there was a small, annoying part of you that knew you wouldn’t want anyone else by your side in the trenches. You both respected each other. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but deep down, you knew Dino wasn’t just reckless; he was brilliant. And he knew you weren’t just a stickler for rules; you were a goddamn powerhouse in the courtroom.

So, the firm kept throwing you together, because when you weren’t busy trying to rip each other’s throats out, you were unstoppable. And that was the most infuriating part of all.

“I care about catching culprits,” Dino said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “That’s my job. And I’m damn good at it. So maybe you could try trusting me for once instead of nitpicking every little thing I do.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you, equal parts frustration and something you didn’t want to name or maybe it was just you. “You think I don’t trust you?” your voice low. “This isn’t about trust, Dino. We need to do it the right way. Because if we don’t, the culprits walk. And that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just held your gaze, his dark brown eyes searching yours. It was maddening, the way he could make you feel like the bad guy when he was the one who barged in here with his half-baked case and his cocky attitude.

Finally, he stepped, grabbing both files off your desk. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “You want it done your way? Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when this guy slips through your fingers.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in your office with nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing and the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

God, you hated him.

…Right?

Two

The crime scene smelled like damp concrete and stale cigarettes. The flickering fluorescent light overhead made the whole place feel like a bad noir film except the lead detective was a walking disaster, and you were too pissed off to even pretend to care about aesthetics.

You arrived late, thanks to traffic and Dino conveniently forgetting to send you the exact location until the last minute. When you finally pushed through the throng of officers, there he was, doing exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped as you stormed over, heels clicking sharply against the cracked pavement.

Dino was leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, arms crossed, smirking at the suspect he’d cornered—a wiry guy with a nervous tic and shifty eyes. The kind of guy whose lawyer would have a field day with this.

“Prosecutor,” Dino drawled, straightening up when he saw you. “Glad you could join us. You missed all the fun.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you bit out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to the suspect, who looked like he wanted to melt into the wall. “I’m getting answers. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “You’re not supposed to be interrogating him yet! We don’t even have his lawyer present—”

Dino cut you off with a dismissive wave. “Relax. He waived his right to a lawyer.”

You turned to the suspect, your voice controlled but wanting to cut throats. “Did you actually waive your right, or did he pressure you into saying that?”

“I—uh—” the guy stammered, his eyes darting between you and Dino like he was watching a tennis match.

“Don’t answer that,” Dino interrupted, stepping in front of the suspect like some overprotective guard dog, which you kinda agree with since he is a dog. “You’re not his lawyer.”

“And you’re not a fucking prosecutor!” you almost shouted, stepping closer, practically nose-to-nose with him now. “Detective, do you have any idea how much you’ve jeopardized this case? This isn’t some TV cop drama where you can just rough someone up and hope it sticks!”

Dino’s smirk widened, which only made you angrier. “You’re so uptight, I’m surprised your shoes don’t file complaints against you.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who probably keeps a bail fund in his back pocket,” you sneered. “And for the record, I’m shocked you haven’t been arrested for stupidity yet.”

He laughed, low and irritatingly amused. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, though whether it was from rage or the way his voice dipped just slightly on the word cute, you refused to analyze. “Don’t,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare try to turn this into one of your pathetic jokes. This is serious, Dino. You’ve completely screwed my angle for the prosecution!”

“And what angle would that be?” he shot back. “Letting this guy lawyer up and walk out the door before we can get anything useful? You’re too busy playing by the rules to actually win.”

“You think winning means cutting corners and breaking the law?”

“I think winning means putting culprits behind bars,” he said, his voice hard now. “But hey, maybe that’s just me. What do I know, right? I’m just the reckless idiot who actually works the streets.”

Oh, God, you hated him. And right now, you hated him even more for standing too close, for taking up too much space in the already suffocating air between you. Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out reason, a deep, thrumming beat that you were sure he could hear. You prayed he couldn’t, but Dino always noticed things he wasn’t supposed to. It pressed against your skin, heated and unrelenting, until it felt like the walls might cave in from the sheer force of it. He didn’t move, of course. He never did. And you couldn’t decide if you wanted to step back to get some air or close the too-small space entirely, if only to finally shut him up. It was never just about the law with him, never just about his tendency to play fast and loose with the rules while you meticulously dotted every i and crossed every t.

You glared at him, the tension crackled between you like a live wire, sharp and dangerous. For a split second, you wondered what would happen if you closed the already too-small space between you.

Would he flinch? Would you?

His eyes darted to your mouth for the briefest of moments, a flicker, gone almost as soon as it happened. But it was enough. Your breath caught, and your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with anger.

Fuck.

No. Absolutely not.

You took a deliberate step back, breaking whatever the hell that was. “We’re done here,” you said, your voice clipped. “And don’t even think about pulling this kind of shit again, or I swear to God—”

“Relax, babygirl,” he said, holding up his hands to mock. “I’ll play nice. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you were ever a Boy Scout,” you muttered, brushing past him. As you walked away, you felt his gaze linger on your back, heavy and unrelenting. It made your skin prickle in a way you hated.

The precinct’s parking lot was quiet except for the muffled sounds of traffic in the distance and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead. You had barely made it halfway to your car when you heard footsteps behind you, quick and purposeful.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Dino called out, his voice carrying easily through the still night air.

You stopped, gripping your bag tighter before turning around slowly, your expression set in stone. “What do you want now, Dino? Haven’t you ruined enough for one day?”

He strode up to you, hands in his pockets, that damn smirk plastered across his face like he had all the energy in the world to piss you off. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe, Prosecutor. Wouldn’t want you tripping over your own self-righteousness in the dark.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Touching. Truly. I’m overwhelmed by your chivalry, Detective”

“Yeah, well,” he said, stepping closer, “someone’s gotta look out for you. You’re too busy being uptight to notice when you’re walking into traffic.”

You glared at him, your pulse spiking as he invaded your space yet again. “Funny coming from the guy who bulldozes through cases like a goddamn wrecking ball. Do you ever stop to think, or is ‘consequences’ just not in your vocabulary?”

Dino smirked, his voice dropping to a cocky drawl. “You’re good at running your mouth. Maybe someone should put it to better use.”

The words hit you like a slap, heat rushing to your face before you could stop it. “Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, practically daring him to repeat himself.

“You heard me,” he said, tilting his head, his eyes dark and glinting under the streetlight. “Look at you—so sure you’re in control. So convinced you’ve got everything figured out. But you’re just begging for someone to put you in your place.”

Your breath hitched, fury, sharper and hotter—coiling in your chest. “You think you’re that someone?” you hissed. “Please. You couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “You think you can handle me?” He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something woodsy and infuriatingly intoxicating. “You’re cute. I could bring you to your knees before you can even blink. And I’d love to see you there.”

The audacity of him, the sheer arrogance, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through your veins. “You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving at his chest, though it felt more like swatting at a brick wall. “I wouldn’t kneel for you if my life depended on it.”

Dino grinned, sharp and predatory. “You talk a big game, but you’re all bark and no bite. Face it, you hate that you can’t control me.”

“I hate that you exist,” your voice shaking with anger.

The space between you crackling with an energy that was equal parts infuriating and magnetic. His eyes bored into yours, daring you to look away, to back down, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Finally, you stepped back, breaking the spell. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest. “Stay out of my cases, Dino. This is the last time I’m cleaning up your mess.”

He laughed, low and unrepentant. “Sure thing, babygirl. Whatever you say.”

You whirled around and marched to your car, your hands trembling as you unlocked the door. As you slid into the driver’s seat, you could see him pulling his middle finger up at you. That bastard was going to be the death of you.

Three

The morning was already too early, and you were fighting the urge to strangle the first person who dared speak to you. The courtroom smelled like the stale coffee that had long gone cold, and the air felt thick, like it was waiting for something to go wrong. You had a long day ahead, one that started with you walking into the courthouse, still wiping sleep out of your eyes trying to make sense of the case that had already given you a goddamn headache.

You reached your desk, scanning the papers in front of you, mentally prepping for the battle ahead you were about to step into. Not today though, today you were placing your trust in your colleague, Prosecutor Jeonghan.

"Morning, hotshot!" Seungkwan's voice cut through the haze, a little too chipper for the crack of dawn. Your bestie aka the only person who could somehow manage to brighten the darkest corners of a place like this. He grinned as he plopped into the chair next to you, tossing a coffee your way. "You ready to face the disaster that is Dino today?"

"Is anyone ever ready for that?" you muttered, rubbing your temples as you took a sip. "I don't even think I can handle his nasty face right now."

Seungkwan's eyes gleamed. "Oh, come on, you love it. You just won't admit it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond. You both knew it wasn’t that simple, but for the sake of today, you weren’t going to unpack the mess that was your relationship with Dino. It had enough layers to rival an onion, and right now you didn’t have time to cry over the metaphorical scent.

"Alright, you two," Seungcheol, the chief officer assigned to the case and both of your close friend, chimed in with a grin as he entered, stretching his arms. "Get ready for some fireworks. Dino's already pissing off the defense lawyer out there. And honestly, Jeonghan looks proud."

Jeonghan was a menace, no doubt about it, but he was also a goddamn genius. He was the kind of prosecutor who could make you question your career choices every time you shared a courtroom. He wasn’t just a menace; he was a finely tuned madness wrapped in a tailored suit, armed with a smirk that said, I know something you don’t. And he probably did. If there was anyone you’d trust to handle something when you couldn’t or just flat-out refused—it was him. He had the kind of street smarts you couldn’t teach, an instinct for reading people that felt almost psychic at times. Jeonghan wasn’t loud or brash like Dino, but his calm, almost predatory confidence was just as hot. He wasn’t just clever, he was deviously resourceful. If evidence didn’t align perfectly, Jeonghan would find a way to weave it into a narrative that made the jury sit up straighter, lean in closer and eat out of his hand. He didn’t play dirty, not technically, but he’d push right up against the edge of what was permissible, flashing that gremlin smile like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Witnesses loved him, judges respected him, and opposing counsel fucking feared him. And rightly so. Jeonghan didn’t just know the law—he understood the game behind it. He could charm the pants off a room full of skeptics, make them see the story he wanted them to see, and by the time they realized what he’d done, the verdict was already sealed. It wasn’t just skill, it was an art form, and Jeonghan painted masterpieces every time he stepped into the courtroom.

Pairing him with Dino was like setting a match to gasoline. Dino’s reckless energy, combined with Jeonghan’s calculated cunning, created a dynamic so volatile it was a miracle the courthouse hadn’t burned down yet with their play. And of course they got results—high-profile convictions, airtight arguments but working anywhere near them felt like trying to wrangle wild animals while they smugly watched you struggle. Jeonghan was a brilliant menace.

Opposing counsel hated going up against you, Dino, and Jeonghan—a nightmare trio they couldn't outrun. And your firm adored the chaos you three brought to court because, no matter how unconventional the methods, you always delivered wins. You were the dream team they loved, and everyone else feared.

Of course, Dino was already making waves and teaming up with Jeonghan. But now it was only a matter of time before he turned this courtroom into his personal wrestling ring, but the last person he wanted to tangle with? You.

The doors to the courtroom slammed open with a force that could’ve been felt from a mile away. Dino walked in and right beside him was Jeonghan. You could already hear the sound of your blood pressure rising just by the sight of him. He had that look in his eyes, the one that meant he was about to do something ridiculous, something reckless, something that would make you regret ever agreeing to work with him in the first place.

"Morning, sunshine!" he called out as he passed by your table. “Hope you’re ready for this shitshow. You sure you don't want to be the one to put this case to bed?”

You shot him a look that could’ve frozen hell over, narrowing your eyes. "You're not gonna win this case, Dino. Not if charm’s the only thing you’re bringing to the table. Leave it to Jeonghan"

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Jeonghan chimed, “I’m just here to look good and clean up your messes later.”

“Careful," he smirked, leaning forward on the back of your chair, his breath hot against your ear. "I might actually win this case with my charm alone. He trusts me."

Jeonghan snorted. “I trust you to do one thing, Dino. Create chaos. Which is great for me, really. Makes me look even better when I swoop in and save the day.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you gritted your teeth. “Maybe if charm was evidence, you’d be a star witness. And Jeonghan, let’s not pretend you’re not just here for the applause."

Though the snide remark hung between you and Dino like smoke, thick and suffocating as he flashed that cocky grin of his, god, it was maddening how much you wanted to punch it off his face. But there was no time for that. You were in a courtroom, surrounded by a crowd of people who didn’t give two shits about your personal grudges. They were just waiting for the show to begin. And right now, the show was all about Dino and his charming ass.

The judge entered, and the room fell into a hush as the proceedings began adjusted to the presence of authority. But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering, especially at your table. Jeonghan handled the case with the precision of a surgeon. Every argument he made was razor-sharp, every point calculated to perfection. Watching him in action was like witnessing a masterclass in courtroom strategy. You felt a swell of pride, not that you’d ever admit it out loud, of course. Jeonghan didn’t need the ego boost. Then there was Dino. While Jeonghan worked the courtroom with elegance and finesse, Dino seemed hellbent on bulldozing his way through the defense with pure, unfiltered madness. Subtlety? Restraint? Professional decorum? Not Dino’s style. Instead, he was practically throwing barbed comments that bordered on outright insults. The poor defense counsel looked like they were ready to crawl under the table. And the judge was not having it. Dino had already earned himself two warnings within the first twenty minutes, and judging by the way the gavel slammed down after his latest stunt, he was this close to being thrown out. But did that stop him? Of course not. This was Dino we’re talking about—a man who seemed to thrive on walking the razor-thin line between brilliance and complete courtroom anarchy.

You sat back, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. Jeonghan remained the picture of calm, seamlessly pivoting between making his case and finely cleaning up Dino’s messes, all while maintaining that smug composure. It was clear why you trusted Jeonghan to handle things when you weren’t in the mood or the mental space to deal with the circus. Unlike Dino, Jeonghan knew how to work a courtroom without turning it into a WWE match.

The courtroom cafeteria was unusually crowded today. You sat at the corner table, papers spread out in front of you, pretending to focus on work but really just avoiding small talk. The last thing you needed was to deal with someone interrupting your already thin patience.

That was, until Jeonghan slid into the seat across from you, his signature gremlin smile firmly in place. He looked too smug for someone who just wrapped up a grueling morning session in the courtroom. “What?” you asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in your tone.

“Relax, I’m here to bask in my own brilliance,” he replied, helping himself to the coffee you had been saving for yourself. You watched as he sipped it like he’d earned it, the audacity rolling off him in waves. The worst part was that he had earned it. Jeonghan was the only person in the firm who could win a case and steal your coffee in the same breath, and somehow, you wouldn’t want to slap him for it. Well, not entirely.

Just as you were about to retort, Seungcheol appeared, dropping a folder on the table with a thud. He looked like someone who had been wrangling a circus all day, because that's exactly what working with Dino felt like. “You’re welcome,” he said without preamble, flopping into the seat beside you. “I just spent the last hour keeping Dino from getting held in contempt.”

You snorted, finally peeling your eyes away from your notes. “That’s a full-time job.”

“He’s a trouble,” Seungcheol muttered, running a hand down his face. “And somehow, I’m the one who gets roped into damage control every time.”

Jeonghan leaned back, clearly amused. “Oh, please, as if you don't bully him enough.”

Before Seungcheol could argue, Dino appeared for the briefest moment, swaggering past your table. He shot you a grin that was one part arrogance, two parts trouble, and called out, “Don’t miss me too much!” as he disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t even bother responding. Seungcheol groaned. “See? That’s what I’m dealing with.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Anyway, how’s your prep going? Or are you too busy glaring at Dino to focus?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your notes into a folder. “Prep’s fine. Unlike some people, I don’t need to cause a spectacle to win.”

Jeonghan just grinned, and Seungcheol, despite his exhaustion, chuckled. The dynamic was exhausting but damn, did it work.

The case in front of you was messy, layered with too many moving parts. Fraud, bribery, and a corporate paper trail so convoluted it felt like the legal equivalent of untangling Christmas lights. But somehow, between you, Jeonghan, and, yes, even Dino, things were starting to click. Slowly. Painfully

Jeonghan had already pointed out the glaring inconsistency in the timelines. The CEO of the accused company had claimed to be in Beijing during a key transaction, but Jeonghan’s eye caught a discrepancy in a hotel invoice. The CEO had, in fact, checked out two days earlier than he’d testified, meaning he was likely back in the city, orchestrating the whole thing. It was the kind of detail that could unravel a defense if played correctly. You had pieced together a pattern in the financial documents. The bribes weren’t direct transfers, too obvious for someone this slick. But they were funneled through fake consulting fees paid to shell companies. Shell companies you’d traced back to one of the CEO’s close associates. And Dino, well, credit where it’s due, the guy was a bloodhound when it came to witnesses. He’d managed to corner a junior executive who had been ready to deny everything until Dino dropped a few too-specific details about her involvement. Turns out, she had been the one handling the encrypted emails. Dino had gotten her to crack, and now she was teetering on the edge of flipping. Honestly, his ability to charm, intimidate, and outmaneuver people in the same breath was too impressive.

Seungcheol leaned back, rubbing his temples as he reviewed the stack of papers in front of him. Even he had to admit it was a strong case, and Seungcheol rarely handed out compliments. “This might actually work,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You glanced at Jeonghan, who was already scribbling something onto a legal pad, his mind a thousand steps ahead as always. Across the room, Dino was on the phone, probably sweet-talking the junior exec into handing over more details.

Four

The precinct always smelled like stale coffee and paperwork—if paperwork had a smell, that is. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. Or, at least, the kind of home where you constantly wanted to throw someone through a window. And today that someone was Dino, like he wasn’t a full-grown ass man but a goddamn trouble magnet with a badge.

The day had already been a shitshow. Another interview, another suspect who thought they could outsmart the system or worse, you. And it didn’t help that Dino, of all people, had been in the room, throwing in his little side comments like he was auditioning for a buddy cop movie. By the time you stormed out of the interrogation room, you were one bad comment away from losing your badge and your mind.

You headed straight for the coffee machine, the ancient beast that churned out something vaguely resembling caffeine. The cups were paper-thin, the sugar was always clumped, and the cream, if you could call it that, came in those little pods that looked like they expired sometime in the 90s. But it was coffee, and you needed it.

God, you needed it.

Just as you finished pouring your first cup and reached for a sugar packet, he appeared. You didn’t even have to look. You felt him like a storm cloud rolling in, all smug energy and shitty cologne.

“Rough day?” Dino’s voice was way too cheery for someone who had spent the last two hours watching you get stonewalled by a suspect.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Fuck off, Lee.”

Dino laughed, that low, grating chuckle that made you want to slam the coffee pot over his head. “That’s no way to talk to a teammate.”

You turned to glare at him, your hands still gripping the coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping you from committing a crime. “Teammate? You sat there and let me handle the entire interview while you played with your pen like a goddamn child.”

“I was observing,” he said, slanting against the counter. His first two buttons were unbuttoned, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and yet he still managed to look very confident. “You had it under control, right?”

“I had nothing under control, thanks to you, Detective.” you snapped. “Next time, maybe try contributing instead of sitting there like a pretty little statue.”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” Dino smirked, and you wanted to throw your coffee at him.

Before you could fire back, Sergeant Mingyu walked in, a towering figure with an easygoing grin. He took one look at the two of you and burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, you two are at it again?” Mingyu said, grabbing his own cup and shaking his head. “It’s like we're watching a rom-com, except way more violent.”

“There’s no ‘rom’ here,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes at Dino. “Just an idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for dangerous women.”

“Dangerous? The only thing dangerous here is you trying to do your job,” you about to fist up.

Mingyu nearly choked on his coffee, laughing so hard he had to set his cup down. “God, Dino, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But seriously, she’s gonna bite your head off one day.”

Dino shrugged, unbothered. “Eh, I can handle it.”

“You think you can handle it,” you muttered, turning back to the coffee machine to pour another cup.

Mingyu leaned closer, still grinning. “You know, watching you two is the best part of my day. You’re like fire and gasoline.”

“Yeah, well, one of us is about to get burned,” you said, shooting a pointed look at Dino.

That stupid smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. For now.”

“Good,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee and praying it would be enough to get you through the rest of the day.

Mingyu’s voice broke. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two actually like each other.”

You glared at him. “Drink your coffee, Sergeant, before I throw it at you.”

He just laughed, shaking his head as he walked away. And you just finished your coffee, trying to shake off the heat rising in your cheeks. It’s just caffeine, you told yourself. Definitely just the caffeine.

It was late. Too late. Everyone else had cleared out hours ago, leaving you with a mountain of work and the ghost of Detective Lee Chan's incompetence haunting your every move. You stared at the stack of reports in front of you, each one messier than the last. Half of them didn't even make sense. Who wrote "suspect maybe had a knife, or maybe it was a gun, unclear" in an official report? Oh, right-fucking Dino. If he spent half as much time actually doing his job as he did annoying the shit out of you, you might actually get some sleep tonight.

But no. Here you were. Alone. Stuck cleaning up others' mess like always.

The door opened, and you didn't even have to look up to know who it was. That air had a very distinct energy, and it was currently barreling toward you at full force.

"What the fuck, Prosecutor?" Dino's voice cut through the silence, relentless. "Why the hell haven't you signed off on the reports?"

You didn't bother looking up. "Maybe because they're a fucking disaster, Detective."

He stalked over to your desk, his presence looming, anger radiating off him in waves. You could feel it, hot and suffocating, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled.

"They're fine,” he snapped, planting his hands on the edge of your desk and leaning in. His scent hit you, the lingering smoke of too much coffee. "You're the one holding up the case.”

You finally looked up, meeting his glare head-on. "Fine? Fine? Half of these reports read like they were written by a drunk toddler. Did you even try?"

Dino's jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might actually explode. "You know what, Y/N? Fuck you. I've been busting my ass on this case while you sit here with your red pen, nitpicking every goddamn detail like it's a fucking college essay."

"Fuck me?" You shot out of your chair, slamming your hands on the desk as you leaned forward to meet him halfway. "Fuck you, Dino. Maybe if you spent less time playing the charming jackass and more time actually doing your job, I wouldn't have to clean up your mess."

His eyes narrowed, his mouth curling that only fueled your rage. "You love cleaning up my messes, admit it. Gives you something to bitch about."

"Oh, I hate you so much," you hissed.

"Not as much as I hate you," he shot back, his words a challenge, his tone daring you to push further.

You were too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rose and fell with each angry breath. Your heart was pounding, your blood boiling, and suddenly—

You kissed him.

It wasn't planned. It wasn't even conscious. One second, you were glaring at him, ready to rip him apart in chicken shreds, and the next, your lips were on his, hard and unforgiving. He froze for half a second before kissing you back just as fiercely, his hands flying up to grip your waist as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Dino muttered against your mouth, his voice breathless but laced with that same infuriating cockiness.

"Shut up," you snapped, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip. "I'd rather kiss a cactus than deal with you, but here we are."

You pulled back just enough to glare at him. "You'd deserve the cactus."

"Yeah? Well, I'll shove that cactus down your throat if you keep talking," he shot back as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

"Try it," you countered. "And I'll bury you six feet under."

"God, you're insufferable," he growled, but his lips were back on yours before you could respond, hot and demanding, his fingers digging into your sides.

The insults didn't stop. Neither did the kissing. It was a mess, angry, chaotic, and so satisfying. Every argument, every moment of pent-up frustration, every goddamn thing you hated about him poured into each kiss, each bite, each touch. And for once, Dino wasn't the only disaster in the room. But as your back hit the desk and his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind.

You barely registered the edge of the desk digging into your lower back as Dino's lips worked against yours, rough and demanding. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your spine, tugging you closer like he couldn't stand even the fraction of space between you. And you were just as bad. Your fingers clawed at his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan, a deep, guttural sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His groan vibrated against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. You pulled his hair harder this time, relishing in the pained sound he made. But it wasn't enough.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot. "You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

You didn't even hesitate. "Right back at you, Detective."

His laugh was low, dark, and entirely too cocky, but you didn't have time to bite back because his mouth was on your neck now, teeth grazing your skin in a way that had your knees threatening to give out. You hated him. You really did. But god, he was good at this. Too good.

"You're killing me," he moaned against your neck, his voice filled with desire. "The fuck kind of witchcraft are you doing right now, huh?" His lips moved up to your jawline, teeth nipping slightly.

"Is this what you do with all your coworkers?"

Dino pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Only the ones who drive me fucking insane."

You rolled your eyes, but it was hard to keep up the attitude when his hands slid under your blouse, his palms aggressive and warm against your skin. He kissed you again, slower this time, but no less intense. Like he was savoring the moment or maybe just savoring your complete and utter loss of control. Bastard.

"God, I can't believe I'm doing this with you,” you muttered, breaking the kiss long enough to catch your breath.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dino said, his voice low and teasing as his thumb traced lazy circles against your clothed nipple. "The feeling's mutual."

You opened your mouth to retort, but whatever snarky comment you had died on your lips as he leaned in again, his hands tightening on your waist. There was something about the way he kissed you—messy, desperate, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight you or devour you whole.

The desk creaked beneath you as he pressed closer, his hips slotting between your legs like he belonged there. You could feel his hard cock through his pant, could hear the hitch in his breath when you tugged at his tie to pull him even closer and pressed yet another kiss. He moaned into the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened it fervently. His hips rolled forward instinctively, grinding his hardness against you. The desk shifted under the force of his movement, scattered papers fluttering to the floor. Breaking the kiss abruptly, Dino's hands slid down to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the desk. He then again stepped between your spread thighs, intentionally pressing his clothed erection firmly against your core. He unbuttoned your shirt one-handed, pushing the material off your shoulders. His mouth dropped to capture one peaked nipple while his hands unzipped your pants slowly, pushing them down your hips along with your lace panties. He spread your thighs wider, settling between them. It was too much and not enough all at once.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," you said, your voice shaky but defiant as you pull him into another kiss.

Dino smirked, his lips swollen and pink, his eyes dark that made your stomach squirm. "Probably," he admitted, his fingers brushing against your clit, "But right now? I don't give a fuck."

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumline. But then his lips were on yours again, and whatever rational thought you'd been holding onto was gone, swept away in the chaos that was Lee Chan.

And honestly? You didn't give a fuck either.

Five

The morning after was a mess. Not because the office was chaotic, although it was but because every time you looked up, Dino was there. And every time you looked at him, you remembered.

His hands on your waist. His lips on your neck. The way he smirked at you, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you insane.

You hated him. You really did. Except, you didn’t.

He didn’t seem fazed at all. He waltzed into the precinct, throwing out cocky smirks and one-liners like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been pressed against your desk, fucking, the night before, completely at his mercy. Bastard.

“Morning, Prosecutor,” he said, leaning against the edge of your desk in the common shared office with your colleagues, with that infuriating grin. His tie was slightly crooked, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. You refused to notice how good he looked. Absolutely refused.

“Detective,” you replied not even looking up from your papers, your tone colder than the coffee you hadn’t had time to drink.

“Sleep well?”

Your pen snapped in half.

Seungkwan, strolled by at that exact moment, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Am I interrupting... something?” he asked, his tone dripping with implication.

“No,” you said quickly.

“Yes,” Dino said at the same time.

Seungkwan looked between the two of you like he was watching the world's most entertaining soap opera. “Right,” he said slowly. “Carry on, then.”

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Dino, your glare sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just saying good morning. Is that a crime now?”

“Don’t push me,” you warned.

“Or what?” he countered, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’ll kiss me again?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you saw it—the implication behind his smirk. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cocky grin, and you wanted to murder him all over again.

“Go to hell,” you muttered, shoving past him.

“See you there, sweetheart,” he called after you.

The tension only got worse as the day went on. Every time you crossed paths, it was like a live wire sparking between you. He’d brush past you in the hallway, his hand grazing your arm just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Or he’d lean over your shoulder to look at a file, his breath warm against your neck, and you’d have to fight the urge to deck him or kiss him.

By the time the case finally wrapped up that evening after three months of struggling, you were ready to explode. The courtroom had been a war zone, with the two of you throwing out arguments like grenades to the defense. But it worked. The case was a win, and you should’ve been celebrating.

Instead, you found yourself alone in your office, staring at the note on your desk.

File this under: cases where I was right (and you were hot).

You crumpled the paper in your hand, your jaw clenching, but a smile still crept through your cusses. Of course, he’d leave something like this. It was so... Dino. Cocky, smart, provoking, and always managing to get under your skin. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you stormed out of your office, the crumpled note still in your hand. You found him sitting in his office, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Seriously?” you snapped, holding up the note.

He looked up, his grin immediate. “What? I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You think this is cute?”

“Admit it,” he said, now standing up and stepping closer. “You smiled when you read it.”

“I did not,” you lied, your pulse racing as he closed the distance between you.

“Liar,” he said softly, his voice teasing but his eyes deadly serious.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. All you knew you were pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongues. His hands gripped your waist like he was afraid you might pull away, and maybe you would’ve if you weren’t so darn tired of fighting this. Fighting him.

“Still hate me?” he asked against your lips, his voice breathless.

“So much,” you managed to say, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he said, kissing you again. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the dynamic.”

And just like that, the war raged on.

The end.

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celaenaeiln · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii, how are you? I’m new in the Batman fandom, but i saw a lot of people saying that Jason is actually Batman’s favorite child, and when i was reading the comics, i really though that Dick is Bruce absolute favorite, but i saw a lot of posts here on tumblr of the fandom saying is actually Jason and that the batkids all know its Jason, but i don’t know what is canon and what is fanon (quite honestly when it comes about the batfam i don’t like a lot about the fanon version 😭), so i wanted to ask you about it

And sorry if i said something wrong, english is not my first language

Hi and no worries at all!!

Yeah, canonically Dick is Bruce's favorite by a LONG shot and canonically the batkids all know this.

Infinite Crisis Issue #3

It's says right here in the comics. Really explicitly. But not only that, time and time again, there is clear evidence of Bruce's preferential treatment of Dick over the rest of the batkids.

One time the batboys and Bruce are searching for a guy that kinda is using the Gotham criminals as his subjects. So what they decide to do is split up to narrow him down.

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1057

But they run into issues because the villains chose a 'divide and conquer strategy"

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1057

Bruce gets swept away! Because of a carefully planned trap. But do you what he does the second he wakes up?

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1058

JDAKFA;BFJALEC

BRUCE LITERALLY WENT: "I love Dick and all the other not-Dicks equally" !!!!!

As if that's not enough, Bruce's biggest fear is that he's not good enough for Dick.

Bruce's fear about Dick-

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

because he believes this -

Bruce's fear about Jason -

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

because he believed he failed to do this -

Batman: Hush

Reminder: Joe Chill is Martha and Thomas Wayne's killer. Enough said.

If you want to be even more explicit about Bruce's preference for Dick over Jason it can't be clearer than here:

Bruce reflects on Jason's Robin tenure -

Batman (1940) Issue #428

Something a lot of people don't know/refuse to acknowledge is that Jason canonically did have anger issues. There aren't a lot of parallels between Jason and Dick but one particular thing that DC points out is that Jason and Dick both lost their beloved fathers. The difference is that Dick was able to move on and become cheerful even if he didn't get revenge. Jason wasn't able to get over the loss of his father and became angry. UTRH makes a specific point of talking about this too.

Batman (1940) Issue #645 "He knew that Jason Todd was NOT Dick Grayson."

Do you remember why Jason became Robin?

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Bruce wanted Dick. He took in Jason in replacement for Dick. But Jason was not Dick and even on the day he died, all Bruce could think of was that taking in Jason was a mistake.

The batkids are well aware of this. Damian actually calls Jason Bruce's mistake too when he's recounting the story of the robins.

Here's what he says -

Batman (1940) Issue #713

That's Damian's retelling. Tim's is even worse -

A Lonely Place of Dying

Ouch.

Truthfully Jason is like Bruce's 4th favorite. In order of how much Bruce loves his kids it goes:

Dick

Damian

Cass

Jason/Tim (tie)

Tim/Jason (tie)

Steph

I think there's so much confusion about Jason supposedly being the favorite because Bruce grieved over Jason's that but I think a lot of people are conflating grief and self-blame with love. There have been two significant deaths in the family: Jason and Damian. If you look at how Bruce reacted in each aftermath, it becomes clear that he loves Damian more than he loved Jason.

After Jason's death:

Batman (1940) Issue #429

Batman (1940) Issue #431

After Damian's death:

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #21

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #20

He would forcefully make Jason relive the worst day of his life so that his other son could enjoy his.

Bruce's behavior after Jason's death was self-destructive and isolative but his behavior after Damian's death was to beat bloodly every single criminal. His reasoning for beating Dick after Jason's death was "Jason was your replacement. If you hadn't left I wouldn't have had to take him in and he wouldn't have died." His reason for beating Jason after Damian's death was "Your trauma matters so little to mean that all I want is Damian to live again and I couldn't care less about how you feel."

In summary, Jason wasn't Bruce's favorite either as Robin or as an adult. But even if it's not Dick, claiming that Jason is the favorite is so far off that no one is DC would remotely believe it. You would think there would be more analysis on Damian's death in comparison to Jason's because they were two big official deaths but I guess not for some reason. I ran out of image space but yeah there's more than just this overall. This isn't to say that Bruce doesn't love Jason. NO! He very much loves him. But he just doesn't love him the most.

On a different note - coming from someone who went from TT show to YJ to fanfic AND THEN reading comics, I've had relearn a lot about each of the characters. But for people still in the process of transitioning from fanfic to comics or just in the fanfic stage, general rule of thumb when it comes to batfamily content - NEVER trust what people say if they don't provide the evidence for it. People in this fandom are so wild that they'll have you believing the earth is the center of the universe, that you'll fall off the world if you go too far left or right, and that pigs can fly.

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bwobgames · 4 months ago

Text

On the ever-bustling capital

The station awakes

The last time he’d been in the capital it was spring, for a wedding. He remembers sitting by the fan until night came.

And yet, even with such inscrutable proof, he still decided that it was a good idea to come back in summer.

Like some sort of forgetful fool.

Hm- actually, no. Just a fool. He doesn’t like that other word.

He is detective Oliver Beebo and he has solved the mystery of the overheating city.

The answer is global warming and corporate greed. Money now, please.

"Take my hand, alright? Let’s not get lost here"

It’s not that big of a place, but who is he to judge. Guess he’ll have to hold hands with his very hot boyfriend! Hot in multiple ways. He might be used to it, but the heat affects him too.

It must have. he can’t be the only one dying here! With Ángel as the sole survivor! That'd be too cliche now!

Hopefully everyone is fine as well.

Okay. Never mind. Ángel was right. This place is massive.

And absolutely full of people! Are they synthetizing humans here or what? How is it possible to have this many people around every day!

It’s… almost a bit too much. It’s slowly becoming too much. It’s really starting to be too much.

“Ángel. Um.”

“Let’s not enter yet, yeah? We are the first ones here, and the train is not moving anytime soon”

Ah, yes. The train. His salvation from hell city.

He heard there was going to be a free showing of multiple museums, so, like an easily amused fool, he asked Ángel to do a quick visit to the capital.

It was hot.

Usually, his dreams are filled with snow, but the heat won’t leave him even in sleepy land.

Small miracles, he guesses.

And even more miraculously, the Margulis were also sick of the heat, and decided to get a trip to the south as vacation. So why not get the gang back together and hitch a ride back home!

Of course, because they are not normal people who travel by an overnight bus, they simply must try out the new train.

Something about vintage realistic experience from when the country was filled with trains.

Well, he can’t complain much. Trains are awesome.

“Alright, just checked the groupchat. Vivi says she’s gonna be here soon, Marigold says they are leaving the house as we speak, and Nadia told me to die. So, everything seems to be going well!”

“Why is everything here so overpriced. Why was there a shopping mall inside there. When does summer ends.”

“Ahaha, that’s the shark mindset, my beloved. A place with so much people traffic? An opportunity like no other. Reminds me of the good old days, when I was evil and had money”

“You barely did anything economy wise. And you still get money from branding”

“Haha, that’s true!”

“Speaking of overpriced evil things, Let’s go get a snack! The train has bathrooms, so we have nothing to worry about”

“… Inside? In the torment nexus? With the many people and smells and lights?”

“Ah, we don’t have to if you don’t want to! We can wait until the train opens! I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

Ángel’s tummy rumbles

“Ignore that. My demons.”

“You can go. I’ll wait here”

“.......”

“Really! I’ll be fine! Look! I’m no longer a noddle arms boy anymore! Your workout thing worked! So…”

“This place is dangerous.”

“I know my way around the common mugger”

“No, these guys are even more dangerous! They’d kill for nothing more than your phone! A-And the luggage is-!”

“Ángel.”

“I’ll be alright. You trust me, right?”

“I do... But it’s the other people that-!”

“Then you trust all the years of detective work that I’ve managed to survive. Assassins and Houses included”

“.......”

“...Fine. Fine, I get it. Just... If anyone tries to rob you, just give them everything, okay? Your phone, your shoes, whatever! I’ll buy you anything, so don’t try to fight back, yeah?”

“And don’t wander off! Stay in this street, okay? If you get lost just search for the giant awful clock. Without breaking it this time. I can buy you phones, but I’d really rather not pay another clock you ‘accidentally’ broke”

“It had it coming”

“And try to be close to people alright? Don’t wander off where there’s no people!”

“I’ll stay right here!”

“...Oliver.”

“Yeah, okay, I won’t. But I can always call you, yeah?”

“Yeah… Yeah. You can. It’s going to be fine.”

“I want a muffin and juice, please”

“Protect your luggage. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Be safe, don’t even dare not be safe”

“byebyebyebyebyebyeeee love you!”

“Love you!”

One of the few positive traits of the capital is the wide acceptance of homosexuality.

Now, where to?

NEXT ->

#detective beebo overnight train #1 up 2 to go #under a read more because these things are long and it will be easier for everyone #beeb is known for never stayong still when they tell him to

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zenithangelic · 5 months ago

Note

Hai could I get fo4 complete reaction to the sole survivor being very big on giving praise? Like they're constantly complementing the companions but not in an overbearing way :) thank uuu

FO4 Companions reacting to the Sole Survivor's praise:

Cait

At first, she’s incredibly suspicious. Compliments? From someone who doesn’t want anything? She’s waiting for the catch.

Once she realises it’s genuine, she gets flustered and awkward, brushing off praise with a “Yeah, yeah, don’t go getting soft on me.” But she starts subtly craving it.

Eventually, she starts preening a bit when she hears it, standing a little taller. “Damn right I’m good at this,” she’ll say, with a small but proud smile.

Codsworth

Absolutely adores it. He lives to serve, and knowing Sole appreciates him fills him with robotic joy.

“Oh, you are too kind! I do try my best, of course!” He starts adding a little flourish when serving them tea, trying to impress them.

Might even get a little smug when others don’t get as much praise. “Ah, not everyone can be as meticulous as yours truly!”

Curie

Delighted and fascinated by Sole’s positivity, especially when directed at her scientific skills.

“Oh! You really think my work is amazing? That is… oh, you make me blush!” She absorbs every word like a sponge, eager to impress them further.

Over time, she starts paying the praise forward, complimenting others in the group in an adorable, awkward way: “Yes, Cait, you… hit that man so well! Such force!”

Paladin Danse

Completely unsure of how to process it at first. Praise was always tied to performance in the Brotherhood, not simple appreciation.

Starts standing up straighter, subtly shifting into parade rest every time he is praised. “That’s… good to hear, soldier.”

He may not say it, but it means something to him. Eventually, he starts seeking approval in small ways, hoping to get an extra “Outstanding work” when he pulls off something impressive.

Deacon

Smug as hell about it at first. “Oh, stop it, you charmer, you’ll make a spy blush.”

But deep down? It gets to him. Compliments aren’t something he gets often—especially not genuine ones.

He starts responding more sincerely over time, quietly muttering, “Y’know, you’re not too bad yourself.” That’s Deacon for I’m touched beyond words.

Dogmeat

Is a dog. Therefore, absolutely loves the praise and thrives on it.

Tail-wagging intensifies with every “Good boy!” until he’s practically vibrating.

Starts bringing the Sole Survivor even more random junk from the wasteland, tail wagging proudly as he receives his due recognition.

Gage

At first? Suspicious as hell. Compliments in Nuka-World usually meant someone wanted something.

Eventually, he starts accepting them at face value, though he plays it cool: “Yeah, well, I am pretty damn good at what I do.”

But if he ever hears a genuine “I trust you,” that’s it. That’s the moment he realises he’s actually loyal to them, no strings attached.

John Hancock

Drinks it up like the finest chems. “Oh, you really do know how to sweet-talk a ghoul.”

Starts playfully fishing for them. “I dunno, was that a badass move or the most badass move?”

But after a while, he stops playing—he just enjoys hearing them say nice things. It reminds him that he’s worth appreciating.

Robert MacCready

At first? Incredibly awkward. “Uh… thanks? I guess?” He’s not used to compliments that aren’t sarcastic.

Eventually, he starts mumbling a quiet “Thanks” and actually appreciating it. He never realised how much he craved validation.

If they ever tell him he’s a great dad? That’s it. He’s done. Might actually tear up.

Nick Valentine

Smirks at first, taking it in stride. “Careful, kid. A fella might start thinkin’ you like having him around.”

But deep down? It means a hell of a lot. People don’t usually appreciate him as more than an old synth detective.

Eventually, he starts throwing it right back. “Well, you’re not half bad yourself, partner.” And from him, that’s high praise.

Piper Wright

Blushes furiously at first, brushing it off. “Pfft, come on, you’re making me sound cooler than I am.”

Eventually, though? She starts believing it. Starts walking with a bit more confidence, feeling like she is as capable as they say she is.

She starts writing about them in a new way—not just as a legend, but as a genuinely good person.

Preston Garvey

Blinks the first time they compliment him, looking genuinely surprised. “You really mean that?”

He’s so used to being the one lifting everyone else up—it takes him a while to accept that someone wants to do the same for him.

Eventually, he starts smiling more. “Thanks, General. That means a lot.” And it really, really does.

Strong

Confused at first. Why is human saying nice things? What is this strange behavior?

Eventually, decides it is a human battle custom and accepts it. “YES. STRONG IS GOOD SMASHER.”

Might even start attempting his own version of praise: “HUMAN… IS GOOD TOO. NOT AS STRONG AS STRONG. BUT GOOD.”

X6-88

Is initially just... silent. He doesn’t know how to react. Compliments aren’t part of his programming.

Eventually, he just nods at them. “Noted.” But his tone softens over time.

He never outright asks for it, but if they ever stop praising him? He might just subtly start working harder for it.

Ada

Initially confused but appreciative. “That is… unexpected. Most humans do not take the time to compliment machines.”

Over time, she begins to recognise it as genuine appreciation and responds in kind. “Your leadership is commendable. I am… grateful to be part of this.”

Though she may not have emotions like a human, her tone becomes just a touch warmer when speaking to Sole, like she’s learning what it means to feel valued.

Automatron

Default programmed response: “Thank you for your feedback.”

But if they keep it up, the bot might start adapting its speech patterns. “Analysis: Positive reinforcement detected. Conclusion: You are… kind.”

If modified with a personality matrix, the bot might get cocky. “Yes, yes, I am the pinnacle of engineering excellence. Carry on, human.”

Old Longfellow

Grumbles about it at first. “Damn fool, ain't no need to butter me up. Just doin’ what I always done.”

But over time, he starts getting used to it. Starts looking forward to Sole’s words, even if he won’t admit it.

The real moment of breakthrough? When he finally mutters, “Heh. Y’ain’t so bad yourself, kid.” That’s Longfellow for I respect the hell outta you.

Porter Gage

At first? Suspicious as hell. Compliments? That ain't how the real world works. “Yeah, yeah, what angle you workin’, boss?”

But once he realises Sole is just… like that, he starts soaking it in. “Damn. Not used to hearin’ that kinda thing. Feels… nice, I guess.”

Eventually, he starts giving them a nod of approval in return. “Gotta say, boss—you got a way of makin’ folks wanna follow ya. Guess I picked the right side after all.”

♡If you liked this fic, please consider buying me a coffee! Ko-fi ♡

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wafflefries13 · 2 months ago

Text

Murder on the Mr. Bluebird Express (TWST x Reader)

Summary:

It's your birthday! To celebrate, Malleus has scored you and all your friends tickets on the famous Mr. Bluebird Express. As you all board the train, isolated with no cell service, the night can only go well, right? ... Right?

Warnings: Slight depictions of blood and gore (?), character injury, happy ending (I promise, guys, I can't follow through with angst to save my life), can be read as platonic or romantic, afab reader with she/her pronouns

Cross posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Author's note: I've always loved mysteries, so this is my first try at actually writing one. Not sure how good it actually is, but if you never practice you'll never get any better at it. I got the idea from an episode of Detective Academy Q, if anyone has ever seen that anime. Thanks for reading!

“Your birthday is soon, isn’t it?” Malleus asked as if he hadn’t marked the date on his calendar months ahead of time. “You must tell me what you would like for a present. No object is out of reach.”

(Y/N) waved her hand at him. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s on a weekend, which is good. Having the day off is pretty much all I really want. Well, you know, as much a day off as I can get. I’m sure Crowley will find something else for me to do.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ooh, maybe we can go into town. I wouldn’t mind if you get me lunch from that one cafe in Foothill Town.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” He said, putting a hand to his chest and bowing regally. (Y/N) laughed, shoving him playfully. Green fireflies swirled around them, the only light accompanying the stars on the moonless night. Although it was late, Malleus and (Y/N) had become more than accustomed to their late night walks at this point that they were both wide away at this time of night no matter what.

“Oh, don’t let me forget,” (Y/N) said suddenly. “Sebek lent me a book the other day. Would you be able to give it back to him for me? We don’t have any classes together tomorrow.”

“Of course. What book was it?”

(Y/N) spread her hands wide in front of them, as if displaying the title. “Midnight Rose. It’s a murder mystery about the bookworm daughter of a crazy professor. There’s a bunch of mysterious, animal attack-like deaths in their small country village, and her father is blamed, so she has to find the real murderer while teaming up with a local nobel with a dark secret. Apparently it’s a classic here. I used to love reading mysteries back in my world. My favorite classic author was Agatha Christie. She had amazing stories and I loved trying to guess the end.”

“Do tell,” Malleus said.

“Let’s see. She had a bunch of really famous ones. And Then There Were None is about a bunch of seemingly unrelated people being invited to an isolated island before mysteriously dying off one by one. Murder on the Nile is a locked room mystery on a boat during a newlywed party. Crooked House has this big sprawling mansion and a ton of suspects. Oh, one of my favorites is Murder on the Orient Express. That one’s on a train and it’s really cool because the culprit is-” She cut herself off with a sly smile. “Well, spoilers for a book that came out, like, a hundred years ago and you’ll probably never be able to read, but still.”

“It sounds like a thrilling experience.”

“Oh, yeah. I think that one’s my favorite because it all takes place on a train. A lot of other countries in my world have these really extensive train networks with all these fancy cars, but it’s not too common in my country. I guess I like to romanticize something like that. Even with the murder.”

Malleus’ eyes twinkled. “Ah, I see. Unfortunately, my dear child of man, we may have to reschedule dining at the cafe. I believe you’ve given me a much better idea of how to celebrate your birthday.”

And that was how a gaggle of Night Raven College students found themselves waiting in a train station, late evening light casting long shadows across the marble floor. The station was almost empty this time of day, only open for the specialty train they were waiting for. (Y/N) looked around her group of friends, giddy that they had all agreed to come on such short notice. Even Leona and Idia, who she knew would rather avoid most responsibility or social situations, had somehow been wrapped up in attending.

Everyone had dressed up for the occasion, as based on the proposed dress code that had been attached to the ornate invitation Malleus had sent out earlier that week. To (Y/N), it reminded her of old Roaring 20’s glamor, suits with detailed beadwork, fancy hats, suspenders, glittering accessories, and slicked styled hair. (Y/N) had found her own flapper-style dress in one of the many abandoned rooms of Ramshackle. A doting Professor Crewel had volunteered to revive the painted silk dress for her special day, including lending her an elegant strand of pearls she looped several times around her neck. Apparently, the style was to reminisce about when the train first came into service during the golden age of non-magical transportation. Whatever the reason, it made (Y/N) feel daring and fancy, like she was a secret princess about to escape into an elegant speakeasy.

“(Y/N)!” Ace called her. She walked over to the Heartslabuyl group standing in front of a large mural depicting their train and the route it would take.

“The Mr. Bluebird Express,” Grim read out. “What a weird name for a train.”

“Is it?” (Y/N) asked. “I always thought trains were like race horses, they always have crazy names. The California Zephyr, the Twilight Limited, the Flying Pussyfoot.”

“I think it’s cute,” Cater said, catching the last of the dying light to get the perfect selfie. “It’s a really famous luxury line. My sisters were super jealous when I told them we were coming. Happy birthday, (Y/N)!” He pulled her into another picture and she smiled and waved.

“Of course, we’ll only be on part of the line tonight,” Riddle said, tracing his finger along the diagram for the scenic ride they were taking for dinner. “Thank you for including us on your birthday.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else!”

“I’m impressed we were able to get so many tickets last minute,” Trey said. “But, well, I guess Malleus is Malleus.”

“Who cares about scenery!” Grim said, jumping off (Y/N)’s shoulder to hover in the air. “A fancy ride like this probably has super fancy food! When do we get to eat?”

(Y/N) laughed, reaching forward to readjust Grim’s new bow. “The train should get here soon. You won’t starve.”

“Says you. Ugh, I’m fading already. Head, fuzzy, everything going dark.” He dramatically put a paw to his forehead, rolling his eyes and drooping in the air. (Y/N) caught him, holding him close and scratching behind his ears until he perked back up and purred.

They all looked up as a train whistle sounded off in the distance, rapidly approaching. Each dorm group made their way out to the platform, necks craning down the track to watch the train pull into the station. It was a beautiful almost pearlescent dark blue with gold filigree swirling and dancing around the engine and cars. A tall smoke stack on the engine car blew out white steam that twinkle with starburst sparks. Mr. Bluebird Express was written in elegant, swooping golden script along the side of the train. The train hissed to a stop at the platform, a side door clicking open.

Malleus stepped forward, dark and elegant in his black and forest green suit. He held out a black glove clad hand. “Happy birthday, dearest (Y/N).” He said. “After you.”

Kalim whooped behind them. “Happy birthday, (Y/N)!” That started up a round of applause and well wishes from the crowd, even the more reluctant and serious members.

(Y/N) smiled at her friends, heart swelling. She couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky she felt at this moment. The people who mattered most to her in this world, who she had been through so many trials and tribulations with, who she had seen grow and change and had grown and changed with them. Even in this strange world, she knew she wouldn’t want to be or with anyone else. She blinked back happy tears, turning back to Malleus and taking his hand, stepping up the small stairs into the train car.

Her feet immediately sunk into the plush maroon carpet of the train car. She spun around to take in the beautiful interior. The dining car had large rectangular windows, dark wood booths along one side with elegant white dishes and sparkling silverware. There was a bar curving along one end of the car, stocked with crystal glasses and all manner of bottles. A three-tiered blue and white birthday cake sat on top, sparklers fizzing from each tier.

“Wow,” (Y/N) breathed. Malleus stood next to her, eyes sparkling and smiling so wide his fangs were visible. “Hornton, you really pulled out all the stops.”

“I’ll admit,” Leona said, sounding reluctant as he fell into one of the overstuffed leather chairs, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. “It’s not too bad.” (Y/N) thought he looked like a prohibition mob boss.

“I haven’t even been able to secure tickets for the Mr. Bluebird Express before,” Vil said, admiring the detailed work on the wainscotting. His hair was swept to the side, dressed in an elegant dark purple suit that went from fitted around his chest and arms to sweeping, almost skirt-like, around his legs.

“So this is what it feels like to be rich,” Ruggie smirked, standing next to the bar that seemed to have one fewer expensive bottles of bourbon than it did before. “I can see how you can get used to it.” He readjusted his fedora, ears poking out to twitch at the sides. As everyone filed into the dining car, the door clicked shut behind them.

After a moment, they felt the movement of the massive wheels below them, the train pulling away from the station with another whisted from the engine.

“Should there be staff?” Jamil asked. “A conductor or ticket taker?”

“We have the entire train reserved for ourselves,” Malleus said. “While the usual route has staff to attend to guests, as this is a shorter trip the train is limited to only the necessary attendants in the engine. Anything else we would need is supplemented by magic.”

As if waiting for his cue, sparkles swirled around the plates, food appearing and glasses filling out of nowhere.

(Y/N) slid into a booth at the far end next to the bar with Grim, Ace, and Deuce. Each booth was occupied by another group of four. Next was Riddle, Trey, Jamil, and Leona. Second was Kalim, Cater, Lilia, and Ruggie. Past them was Malleus, Sebek, Vil, and Rook. Fifth was Idia, Ortho, Floyd, and Epel. In the last booth were Azul, Jack, and Silver. The car filled with conversation and laughter, people frequently leaning over other booths to talk to the different groups. At one point, Floyd and Ortho started confiscating everyone’s salad forks to build a complicated tower by linking all their tines. Once everyone had finished each course, the remnants would be magically whisked away and replaced with the next, much to the annoyance of Grim who kept trying to lick his plate clean.

Finally, it was time for the centerpiece dessert. Both Jack and Rook held up the cake on its round silver platter, bringing it from the bar to (Y/N)’s table. Some of them slid out from their booths to crowd around (Y/N)’s table, the others standing or watching from their own. “Happy birthday to you~” Everyone started singing.

The train whistled, sharp and loud, reverberating down the train.

“Happy birthday to you!”

Outside the train, the twilight scenery went black as the train entered a tunnel, the only light the glow from the magical floating lamps and sconces in the car.

“Happy birthday, dear (Y/N)~”

The lights flickered, a few voices faltering to look up at the quivering illumination.

“Happy birthday to-”

The dining car plunged into darkness. Every light snuffed out at once, even the flares on the cake fizzling out at the same time. There were a few gasps of surprise, low murmurs of confusion.

“Hang on!” Cater called out. He already had his phone out, filming the song. With a quick swipe and tap, his phone light was on, sweeping it around the room. “I got it… huh?”

The train barreled out of the tunnel, blue evening light flooding back in through the windows at the same time the interior lights clicked back to life. There was a collective sigh of relief, the terror of uncertainty in the dark banished once again.

“That was weird,” (Y/N) said.

“Who cares?” Grim said, eyeing the cake. “Let’s eat!”

“Easy,” Deuce said. “(Y/N) gets the first sli-”

Kalim screamed. Everyone spun around to look at their booth. Kalim was half way standing in his seat, back pressed against the glass. His eyes were wide, locked in place on something next to him (Y/N) couldn’t see as it was blocked by the back of the booth. Jamil immediately darted forward, vaulting himself over the chair of his own booth to practically tackle Kalim out of the way and onto the floor. Jamil forced Kalim to look away, the latter's eyes bubbling with tears and he started sobbing into the formers’ dress shirt. Ruggie yelped, tripping over his own feet as he tried to quickly back away. He fell on his back, hat flying off his head.

“What?” (Y/N) said, panicked, standing. “What happened?”

Malleus turned to her, hand out and eyes wide, already pale face even paler. “(Y/N),” He said, and she could feel the seriousness of the situation from his use of her real name. “Don’t-”

But it was too late. A jerk of the train caused her to stumble closer to the far booth. Her arms pinwheeled out, trying to regain her balance. Still, she stumbled and fell on her knees in front of the booth. With the sound of Kalim crying behind her, and the gasps, strangled screams, and yells of the others in the group, (Y/N) looked up, straight into the cold ruby red dead eyes of Lilia Vanrouge.

The clatter of screams, shouting, and horrified rationalization dulled to an incoherent roar in her ears. She stared up at Lilia, brain slowing down, trying to rationalize what she was seeing. He was slumped over in his seat, face turned to the side to stare out unseeing, arms dangling limply at his sides. A silvery thin round disk protruded from just below his neck, lodged in his spine, blood dripping down the back of his white dress shirt. Shaking, her hand reached out, almost without her own volition. Just before her fingertips could tap Lilia’s hand, arms wrapped around her from behind, hauling her up and away. Deuce lugged her dead weight down the train car, depositing her back in a far booth facing away from Lilia’s body.

Lilia’s body. Lilia’s body. (Y/N) suddenly jerked up, head whipping around. “Where’s Silver?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and pointed with his chin. Silver was sitting in his booth, head tilted back and eyes closed, asleep. (Y/N) wasn’t sure when his narcolepsy had taken over, but she hoped it was before they went through the tunnel. Ortho was sitting next to him, holding his hand. Idia stood between Ortho and Lilia’s booth, blocking his little brother’s line of sight, although he kept casting worried looks over his shoulder, whipping his head back down immediately after. Grim practically threw himself into (Y/N)’s stomach, burying his head into her middle. She clutched him tightly.

Leona came up to her booth, Ruggie close at his heels. “(Y/N),” Leona said. “Stay close to me, okay?”

“Okay.” She almost didn’t recognize her own trembling voice. Malleus was standing nearby, his back to her, staring out the window at the passing scenery. His shoulders were back, tense, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“Hornton?” (Y/N) asked, hand reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you-?” Are you what? Are you okay? Of course not, no one was. Her mind zipped through a thousand possibilities of what to say, what might possibly be the right thing, but everything fizzled on her tongue. He looked at her, once, expression unreasonable, before turning to walk farther into the car.

“We need to call the engineer,” Malleus said, voice breaking through the icy tension in the room. “We’ll need to stop at the nearest station and contact the authorities.”

“I’ve got it,” Azul said, tugging his gloves down farther on his trembling hands. He cleared his throat before reaching for an old fashioned corded phone on the wall by the door to the next car. Everyone’s eyes were locked on him as he waited for the other end to pick up. After a moment, Azul’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. He looked down at the phone, then pressed the dial flip a few times, phone back to his ear. “The line is dead.” He winced at the phrase.

“What?” Sebek snapped. His eyes were red. Beads of blood dotted his lower lip from where he was biting it to keep from wobbling. He marched forward and shoved Azul out of the way, jerking the phone up to his ear. After a frustrated second, he snarled, slamming the phone back on the receiver. “Then we’ll just have to go tell them in person!”

“Are we able to go up through the train?” Riddle asked.

“There are fewer cars than normal,” Malleus said. “But we do have access to the entire train. I’m sure the engineer wouldn’t be expecting us, but I believe they’ll understand our circumstances.”

“This car is at the very end,” Jade said. “I believe there were three others between us and the engine.”

“We don’t all need to go,” Jamil said. He still had an arm around Kalim, who had tears silently tracking down his face. “There’s too many of us to move quickly. And some of us should stay with…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Two groups, then,” Jade said. “Enough to stay here and make sure the crime scene is preserved, and another to go to the front. That way we’ll have plenty of extra eyes watching our backs.”

“Crime scene?” Riddle echoed. “You’re not suggesting that we - that one of us is responsible for-”

“Who else? Razor sharp plates don’t just appear in people of their own accord.”

“I think,” Trey said. “It’s from the cake.”

“The cake?” Ruggie balked.

“It’s to separate the tiers, I think.” Trey nervously adjusted his glasses, falling back into something familiar to ground himself. “Bakers use them to keep the tiers from sinking into each other. Usually they’re not made of metal like that, of course. Look, the middle tier is already going down.”

They all looked over to the bar where the cake had been abandoned. Sure enough, the middle tier was leaning on one side, falling further into the bottom. There was a smear of frosting from where the separator plate had been yanked free.

“You didn’t make the cake?” Deuce asked.

“No,” Malleus answered for Trey. “I had it ordered to be delivered on board before we arrived. It was made by a local bakery near the station. I didn’t mean it as a slight, Clover. I didn’t want to distract anyone with work.” Trey lifted his hand, brushing away the concern.

The group quickly decided who would go up to the engine and who would stay behind. Malleus, Sebek, Vil, Jade, and Jack would go through the three other train cars up to the front, battering down the engine room door if they had too, while the rest of the group stayed.

“I don’t like this,” Ace said in a quiet voice to (Y/N). “Splitting up, I mean. It’s like no one’s ever seen a horror movie before.” Still, the group headed out in a solemn mood.

Someone had draped Lilia’s dark blue and lime green pinstripe suit jacket over him. It bulged awkwardly over the plate stuck in his spine. (Y/N) swallowed hard at a sudden wave of nausea.

The dining car was quiet, filled with the sounds of the wheels chugging underneath them and the whispered conversations of those left behind. Every once and a while there would be a muffled cry and sniff. No one really seemed to know what to do with themselves, ever switching before sitting stone still, fidgeting, or pacing around the car.

(Y/N) spotted Cater sitting on the floor near the door where they had entered, legs spread out in front of him, eyes locked on his phone. His forehead was creased in concentration, teeth worrying his lower lip. She tapped Leona’s arm so he could let her slide out of the booth and walked over to him.

“Cater?” (Y/N) asked.

Cater didn’t look up from his phone. He kept tapping it, dragging his finger to restart a video, watching, then rewinding it again.

“Cater?” She said again. This time he startled, looking up.

He flashed a warm smile that felt out of place in such a dour setting. “Hey, yeah, what’s up?”

‘What’s up?’ (Y/N) thought. Out loud, she said, “What are you watching?”

He showed her the screen as she sat next to him. “It’s the video I was taking earlier, when we were singing to you.”

(Y/N) felt a lump form in her throat. She watched everyone’s happy faces on the tiny screen, dread sloshing in her stomach in anticipation of what she knew was coming. The flickering lights, the black out, a murder in the dark. Right on cue, the screen turned black. She almost felt like she could see movement from the camera swinging around in confusion, the lens rapidly trying to adjust to the new lack of light. She closed her eyes hard, fighting back a lightheaded feeling.

Cater drew his phone back. “Sorry, I get that you wouldn’t want to see that.”

“I don’t understand,” She said, voice cracking. She sat down hard next to him. “Who would do this? How, even? He’s on the same level as Hornton, magic wise, I can’t imagine anyone sneaking up on him. And why?” Hot tears bubbled along her lashes. Cater put an arm around her and pulled her close. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Cater said. “That’s why I was watching this. When I had my flashlight on, I thought I saw something weird. I’ve been trying to find it again. Maybe it could be a clue. Do you…Want to see?”

She pressed her lips together hard. Finally, she gave a stern nod. Cater shuffled closer, holding the phone back up to play the video from the beginning.

The camera swung up as the video started. It swept over the car, showing everyone smiling and jovial. A few of them stood, taking their positions as Jack and Rook collected the cake. (Y/N) saw Lilia catch the eye of the camera, giving a wink and waving. She gulped hard. Their singing came out in low, tinny volume from the phone speakers. (Y/N) felt strange as she watched the lights flicker, knowing what was about to happen, watching her own face blink and look up in confusion. Even though she knew it was coming, she still startled a little as the screen suddenly went black. The camera swung around in the dark, black shapes against a black background. Cater��s phone light turned on, sweeping across the room to briefly illuminate blurred figures. Shortly after, the lights came back on. Cater had focused back on (Y/N)’s table. She could see the smear on the cake frosting already, even though it was still being held up. Her heart dropped in her stomach as she heard Kalim’s scream. The camera whipped around to Lilia’s booth, just in time to catch Jamil leaping across to drag Kalim to safety. She saw herself fall in front of the booth, looking up at Lila. The camera focused on the scene for a handful of chilling seconds, before dropping down to the floor and cutting out.

“Did you see something?” She asked. She pointed at the screen, just after the phone light came on.

“Maybe? I think so, that’s why I was watching it back. I just can’t figure it out.”

“Well, two pairs of eyes are better than one, right? Play it again.” Cater pulled back on the recording. The video played out the same two more times. On the third, (Y/N) stopped him.

“Wait!” She said suddenly. “Go back! Just a few seconds.” Cater slowly pulled back the replay, the dark scene reversing frame by frame. “There! See?” She jabbed a finger at the screen.

Cater squinted. “I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly! That’s Lilia’s seat! He was there before the lights went out, and he was there when they came back on, but he’s not there when it’s dark!”

“Oh!” Cater said, excited. His face fell again. “What does that mean?”

“I… Have no idea. But it has to be important right? Was he still sitting at the booth before he was…” ‘Say it,’ (Y/N) thought. ‘If you’re going to have any chance of finding out what happened, you have to say it.’ “Before he was killed? Does that mean that someone moved him?”

Cater looked back down at the screen. “The lights were only off for-” He checked the video timeline. “Eleven seconds. I turned my flashlight on after about 6 seconds, here, see?”

“So not a very big window of time. And look, Kalim is sitting next to Lilia by the window and Epel is standing on the outside next to him. How would they have not noticed if he was moved?”

Cater bit his lip again. “You know,” He said slowly. “There’s something else that I-”

“Did I miss eating cake?” Silver said. He was rubbing his eyes, blinking at everyone’s shocked stares.

“Silver,” (Y/N) started, after several moments of tense silence. She felt responsible, somehow. That because it was her birthday party, she was the reason Lilia had been put into the exact right, or wrong, circumstances that lead to his death. She stood, holding her hands up as if she was going to confront a terrified animal. “It’s… I’m sorry, Lila is…”

“Father?” Silver asked. He stood, looking around the room. “Is he with everyone else? Where did they go?”

“No, Silver, I don’t know how to say this, but, but he-”

“(Y/N)!” Cater hissed, jumping up, fingers digging into her arm. She turned to him, Cater pointing frantically to the booth where Lilia’s body was. Or, rather, where Lilia’s body had been.

The seat was empty. Lila was gone.

Everyone immediately started looking around. (Y/N) knew it was useless from the beginning, but joined in anyway. What else were you meant to do when your recently deceased friend disappeared from a small room with only one door out?

“It’s just like the video!” She said. “Maybe this is the way he was moved during the blackout.”

“What video?” Jamil asked. (Y/N) and Cater told everyone about Lilia disappearing before, everyone crowding around the phone to see the video.

Silver gasped at the end, showing Lila’s body. “That…” He started. He shook his head. “No, that’s not real, it can’t be. Father wouldn’t-” He started blinking fast, looking around. “I need to find him.” Silver pushed his way out and barrelled through the door to the next car.

“We should go find the others anyway,” Riddle said. “To let them know about Lilia.”

“I’ll go,” (Y/N) volunteered.

“I’m coming with you,” Leona said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want you or anyone else alone.” Ace, Deuce, Cater, and Epel also volunteered.

The next car was a viewing car. The entire upper half was made of glass with a series of swiveling round backed chairs lining the sides. It would have been a beautiful place to spend the evening counting stars and watching the moon rise. The dark night outside seemed to encroach on their group and they rushed through the car to the next. The next car was a luggage car, stuffed with packages and cases from previous voyages. The lights were off. Leona flipped the switch several times, clicking uselessly.

“Watch your step,” He said.

The luggage car was stuffed with crates and pallets among other suitcases and hat boxes. A rough path had been cut through the center, and they had to walk single file. The light was hazy, only filtering in through the small windows in the doors at the front and back of the car.

“So,” Ace started, trying to break the unnerving silence. “Any idea how Lila could have been moved?”

“Maybe there’s some sort of hidden hallway?” Deuce theorized. “Or like a service entrance?”

“Isn’t that kind of a trope?” Epel said. “Secret passages?”

“That feels more like an old mansion sort of thing than a train, like Ramshackle,” Deuce said, “I can’t imagine there’d be any room.”

“I’ve found a couple, actually, in Ramshackle” (Y/N) said. “There’s one behind the bookcase in the guest room that leads upstairs. I think I might make it a second guest room, too, since it-” (Y/N) was cut off as she tripped. She caught herself just before she tumbled down. “Careful,” She said, looking back and aiming her phone flashlight to see what she had tripped over. “There’s something-”

She stopped short, words withering in her mouth. Her light trailed up a shoe, leading to a leg that ended abruptly at a crate. She took a sharp step backward, crashing into a luggage cart. It rattled behind her, something heavy and warm falling against her arm. Her heart already thundering, she turned to push it off. Only to be met by Jade’s face, lips going blue, eyes frozen open in shock, cut off at the waist in a pool of dark red, placed precariously on top of a suitcase.

She screamed, throwing herself backward, Epel clumsily catching her as they both stumbled away from the corpse. Panic quickly overtook the group as, between yelps and thundering hearts, they sped through the rest of the car, throwing open the door at the other end and launching themselves across the divide and into the next car. Ace pressed his back tightly against the door of the car, as if he could physically bar the image of Jade’s bifurcated body from their minds.

“(Y/N)?” Vil said, looking over the blundering group. The rest of the first team that had left to find the engineer looked back at them, confused. Vil took in their smaller group, the wide eyes and gasping mouths. His expression flitted between a mix of frustration, concern, and terror. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s- It’s Jade!” (Y/N) said, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as her voice scratched her throat. “We found his body!”

“What?” Jack said, ears going flat. “He just left. Are you sure?”

“Yes, we’re sure!” Ace snapped. “He was cut in half!”

Malleus’s hand on (Y/N)’s tightened as he helped her stand. “That’s not possible. We only sent him back to you all a minute ago.”

“The engine is empty,” Sebek said gravely, waving his hand at the door at the other end of the car to the engine room. “Jade was going to go back to the dining car and let you all know.”

“What did I say?” Ace said. “You can’t let people split up like this.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) said, looking around. “Where’s Silver?”

“He’s not still asleep in the dining car?” Sebek asked.

“He woke up and we told him what was going on,” Epel said. “He, you know, didn’t take it well. He ran out of the car this way to try and find you guys and we came after him.”

“It’s not like there’s anywhere else to go,” Deuce said. “He couldn’t have vanished into thin air between the dining car and here.”

“Speaking of disappearing,” Ace said. “Where are Cater and Leona?”

“Maybe they went the other way out of the car? Back the way we came in?” (Y/N) said.

“I told you!” Epel said. “There has to be some kind of secret passage! Maybe they went the same way whoever took Lilia went.”

“Who took Lilia?” Malleus asked.

(Y/N) tried to quickly summarize what had happened after the first group left, from Cater’s video, to Lilia’s body vanishing, to Silver charging ahead, to detailing finding Jade’s body in the luggage car.

Vil sighed sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “As much as I hate to admit it, Ace is right-”

“Hey!”

“We shouldn’t stay split up. Let’s regroup in the dining car. The train has to stop eventually. Either we can contact the police when we stop at the next station or if we pass through an area with cell service.”

(Y/N) clutched Grim to her chest at the idea of going back through the luggage car. She felt oddly ridiculous, like a child with a well loved stuffed animal asking their parents to check the closet for monsters. But how could she not feel the rising panic bubble in her chest at the thought of seeing one of her friend’s bodies again?

She jumped as Malleus brushed his fingers against her shoulder. He gave her a small smile, offering his arm. “Close your eyes and we’ll go through quickly,” He said in a low voice.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, threading her arm through his and pulling close, Grim clasped so close the heat from the blue fire in his ears warmed her face.

Whatever quiet conversation there was ceased immediately as they stepped back in the dark car. Phone lights came out, casting ghostly search lights across the car, bouncing on and over the clutter of bags and boxes. (Y/N) closed her eyes tight, pressing her face in Malleus’s arm.

“Jade’s not here,” Jack said.

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open. “What?” She looked around the dark and cramped space. Sure enough, every body inside was breathing. She let go of Malleus’s arm and took a step forward. “No, wait, he was right here. He was like, half way though, right? I tripped over his legs right here.” She pointed to the floor where Jade’s legs had been splayed out. Only… No, wait, was that the same crate she had seen before? She scanned along the narrow walkway through the car, trying to find the familiar box, but she couldn’t find anything that matched the morbid memory in her head. The cogs in her brain churned. It was dark, but had these boxes been moved? Was this the same path they had taken through the car the first time? She turned back to the other first years. “You guys saw him too, right? I’m not just imagining things?”

“No, he was definitely here,” Deuce confirmed. “And besides, you still have some, uh, blood, right here.” He tapped his shoulder.

(Y/N) lifted her hand, touching the spot Deuce had indicated. Her fingers came away sticky, a sheen of red coating them in the low light. Jade’s blood must have dripped when his upper body fell against her. She felt her stomach clench and flip.

“Jade wouldn't be the first person to disappear tonight,” Epel said.

As they made their way through the observation car, with still no sign of Cater or Leona, (Y/N) felt her panic rise in anticipation of what might greet them in the dining car. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, muting any other sound. She felt clammy, breaking out in a cold sweat as Sebek reached for the door to the next car.

“There you all are,” Azul said in a relieved sigh. “What did the engineer say?”

No one said anything, the group who had stayed staring at the group who returned until the silence stretched and stretched, taught and uncomfortable.

Floyd’s head poked out from a booth, where he had been playing a card game with Riddle, Ortho, and Idia. “Where’s Jade?” No one answered. Several of them started shifting uncomfortably. Floyd frowned, eyebrows coming together. He stood. “Where’s Jade?”

“He-” (Y/N) started. She felt like she had a responsibility to break the news.

“We don’t know that,” Sebek interrupted. “He wasn’t there.”

“Lilia’s not here either,” Ace snapped. “But we’re pretty sure he’s dead, too.”

Azul stumbled back, going green, Floyd jumping up, teeth gnashing. The car exploded in a cacophony of raised voices, panicked questions and sharp words flying around. With a sinking feeling, (Y/N) realized Cater, Leona, and Silver weren’t present. They had vanished, too. And, if the only other ones who had disappeared were dead, what did that mean for them?

“I need some fresh air,” She murmured. She let go of Malleus, stumbling to the door at the back of the car. She pushed it open, standing on the tiny balcony as the rushing wind pulled at her hair and dress. She gripped the intricate wrought iron fence around the balcony until her knuckles went bloodless. She took deep, gulping breaths of the cold night air until her lungs hurt. She slumped forward, pressing her sweaty forehead against the cool metal.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a hand touched her back. She whipped around to see Ace holding his hands up.

“Sorry, sorry,” He said. “Should have said something first.” Deuce stepped out behind him, sliding the door closed.

“It’s okay,” She sighed. “I just… needed a second.” The two of them stood on either side of her, quiet as they stared out at the rushing landscape, train tracks blurring together into a solid road beneath them.

“Here,” Deuce said, offering her a handkerchief from his blazer pocket. “For the… blood.”

“Right, thanks.” She dabbed at the spot, trying to think of a way to explain to Professor Crewel how the dress he had worked so hard on had been stained. Even if it was able to be cleaned, she wasn’t sure she would ever want to wear it again. Her mind wandered for a second, until her hand froze, pressed against the damp spot on her shoulder. She pulled the handkerchief back, staring at the red stain. And then licked it.

“Whoa!” Deuce exclaimed.

“(Y/N)! Gross!” Ace cringed.

“It’s not blood,” (Y/N) said. She shoved the handkerchief at them. “See? It smells and tastes sweet. It’s like some kind of syrup colored red.”

Ace cautiously leaned forward and sniffed. “I’m not going to pretend I know a ton about merfolk biology, but I don’t think they have corn syrup for blood.”

“Did you lean against anything else?” Deuce asked.

“Not that I noticed.” She groaned, head falling into her hands.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Ace muttered.

(Y/N) drummed her fingers against the railing. She stared down at the tracks rushing below them. Her eyes unfocused, trying to make her mind go blank instead of having every body and disappearance and unusual circumstance bounce around her head. Dirt and dust clouded behind the train, kicked up by the heavy wheels. Except… Suddenly, she jolted up so fast both Ace and Deuce jumped. “I need to check something,” She said. She spun around marching back into the dining car, the two boys close behind.

There were a couple of curious glances as she knelt by Lilia’s booth, everyone else keeping a wide berth from it. She looked underneath, running her hand along the bottom of the table, then across the booth seat, checking for any seams or latches. Her hand brushed along something soft on the edge of the table, where there was a smear of blue frosting.

“There was something in the video…” She said to herself. The idea itched in her mind. There was something missing, something she knew Cater must have noticed. Is that why he had been spirited away? But she had watched the same video with him multiple times. Wouldn't she have seen whatever clue she was sure was there?

Unless… The ideas crashed together all at once, almost too cluttered for her to organize them. Cater had been the only one with a light, the only one able to see around the darkened car. So, what if he saw something in the dark, something that wouldn’t show up on camera? Then, watching it back, the discrepancy would have subconsciously stuck out.

She pulled herself out from under the table, chewing on her bottom lip. She scanned the room. Her eyes passed over then jerked back to Jamil, setting down an empty glass on a side table. Tiny white sparkles flitted around the glass as it magically refilled.

Her hip jammed into the table as she whirled around, pulling her phone out of her bedazzled clutch. She grabbed a discarded glass from the table and drained it in two gulps. As she set it back on the table, she hit the record button on her phone, holding it close to the glass. The sparkling magic swirled around the glass, just as it had been doing all night.

“(Y/N)?” Riddle asked, confused.

She replayed the video, only a few seconds long. Sure enough, she watched the glass refill, but the magic around it was invisible.

Without a word, she whirled around and marched to the door to the observation car.

“Wait!” Ace called at her retreating back. “Come on, what have I been saying about splitting up?”

He, Deuce, and Grim followed behind her as she quickly moved through the next car to the luggage car.

“Epel was right,” (Y/N) called over her shoulder to them. “People don’t just vanish.”

“So you think there are secret passages?” Grim asked.

“Not exactly.” She pulled her phone out as they stepped into the luggage car, tapping her light on. She swept it around the room, dust motes floating in the air. “Back in my world, movies use a lot of cgi for special effects. But there are some older ones that use practical effects, puppets and makeup and stunts. They take a lot more work, but audiences also really like them, and they generally look better since they’re tangible, really there with the actors. Recently, some movies have been combining the two, computer generated images with physical props.”

“So?” Ace asked, confused.

“So,” She said. She stopped in front of a pile of luggage. She pushed them aside, not caring as they clattered in an untidy heap on the floor. Behind them was a wooden crate, a thin line of sticky red smeared along the bottom. “I think we’ve been thinking about this the wrong way. Whoever has been doing this is using a combination of methods, both magic and non-magic.”

“Magical murders?” Deuce said. “That’s like what the Arcane Special Defense Unit investigates.”

“But if they’re using magic to commit the murders,” Ace said. “Why use non-magic, too?”

(Y/N) crouched down, turning the crate around. Her heart clenched in her chest as she revealed a hole cut into the cut just above the bottom. “I think I might have an idea, but…” But she didn’t want to say it out loud. She didn’t want to admit she was suspecting one of her friends. She didn’t want to admit that one of them might, in fact, be capable of something like this.

Grim groaned. “Why does this kind of stuff always happen to us?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Ace said.

“I mean,” Deuce said, rubbing the back of his head. “He’s kind of right. There’s Overblots, that monster in the mines, kidnappings, that one Halloween in the Spectral Realm, that other Halloween in Fleur City where our magic got eaten, the VDC, that one time there was a magical virus and we all got turned into kids, not to mention all the potion accidents in alechemy class-”

“Wait!” (Y/N) shouted. “Say that again!”

Deuce looked confused. “Uhh, that we kind of seem to attract trouble everywhere?”

“No, about Halloween! That’s it! I’ve got it!”

“You know who the murderer is?” Grim asked.

(Y/N) was grinning way too big for such a morose topic. “Yes! And I think I know where everyone who disappeared is. But I need help from you guys. Have you ever heard of a parlor scene?”

(Y/N) explained her revelation to the boys, quickly giving them instructions to meet back with her in the dining car later. Separating, (Y/N) stopped in the observation car, taking a deep breath. Then, she flung the door open, striding into the room.

“Alright, everyone!” (Y/N) said sternly. “It’s time we wrap this whole thing up!”

“You know who killed Jade and Lilia?” Azul asked, eyes red.

“In a way,” (Y/N) said. She clasped her hands behind her back, walking through the room. “Let’s start from the beginning of the night. First, we all board a train with no conductor. The cake is made with a dangerous metallic disk, brought on board before all of us arrived. The lights just so happen to all go out at the exact moment we enter a dark tunnel, giving the murderer the perfect opportunity to strike. The crime, then, must have been planned ahead of time by someone who knew the exact route, timing it perfectly to when the cake would have been closest. Then we’re separated, leading to a locked room where Jade is murdered. Not just that, but cut in half and placed in such a way that should have taken way longer than the brief time he was unaccounted for. And none of that accounts for the disappearances, of both the deceased and the theorized living. We’re on a moving train, the only entrance and exit carefully monitored by those in the car, so it would, or should, be pretty obvious if anyone were trying to sneak out, especially if they were carrying someone.

“Our culprit, then, is someone who has had complete and perfect control of the train and those on board the entire time we’ve been here. Someone who not only smuggled the murder weapon in, who knew we were isolated, who knew when the train would enter the tunnel, who purposefully separated us to orchestrate the second murder, and who has the ability to make multiple people vanish into thin air.”

Everyone was getting restless, shuffling and looking around, casting suspicious looks at the only person (Y/N) could be referring to. (Y/N) took one more steadying breath. Facing the culprit straight on, she lifted an accusing finger. “The only possibility is you, Malleus Draconia!”

There was a collective gasp as Sebek jumped up, inserting himself between (Y/N)’s allegation and his prince. “How dare you!” He shouted.

Malleus’s eyes were steely cool as he looked down at her. “Oh?” He said. “That’s quite the accusation, child of man. I do hope you have evidence to support your theory.”

(Y/N) looked at Malleus with a scowl, hands on her hips. Before long, her lips twitched as she started to laugh. She whipped away a stray tear with the heel of her hand. “Hornton, you really have a twisted sense of humor, you know that?”

Sebek’s head whipped back and forth between the two, Malleus joining in with her laugh. “Wait, what? My lord, you, did you really…?”

“It might seem pretty complicated on the surface, but it’s actually pretty simple, just like a lot of old fashioned murder mysteries,” (Y/N) said. She turned, shouting out, “Okay, come on in, boys!”

Through the door that led to the end of the train, Ace, Deuce, and Grim burst in, dragging Lilia, Jade, Cater, Silver, and Leona with them.

“Hello, everyone!” Lilia said jovially. “I do hope you haven’t been having too much fun without me.”

There was a blur of teal and black as Floyd launched himself across the car, tackling Jade in a squeezing hug. He started sobbing, fat, dramatic tears now freely flowing down his face.

“My,” Jade said, eyes touched with compassion, petting his brother’s hair. “I wasn’t expecting such a welcome.”

“Jade,” Azul said, trying to sound stern despite the crack in his voice. “If you ever do something like that again, I’ll fry you up and add unadon to the menu.”

Jade placed a hand to his chest. “Aww, you do care.”

Kalim was jumping between Cater and Lilia, hugging them close, holding their faces to double and triple check they were unharmed, and babbling through tears.

“So,” Leona said, carelessly dropping into a booth, hands behind his head, a smug smile on his face. “I guess everything went according to plan?”

“Does anyone want to fill us in on what is going on?” Idia asked desperately.

“Gladly,” (Y/N) said. “That’s the point of a parlor scene, after all, pointing out the culprit and explaining exactly how they committed the crime. First, we need to establish that almost everyone who disappeared was an accomplice.”

“Almost everyone?” Jack asked.

Cater shyly raised his hand as (Y/N) said, “Cater was the odd one out, but I’ll get to that in a second. Before we even got to the train station, Malleus had recruited Lilia, Leona, Silver, and Jade to his plan. He’s the one who had the metal disk brought in with the cake, a cake he specifically ordered. And speaking of the disk, Lilia, do you still have it?”

With a smirk and a flourish, Lilia produced the silver disk, bloody colored corn syrup cutting across it in a gorey line. He ran his finger along the edge before pressing an almost invisible button in the middle. The side of the disk suddenly compacted, retreating in so the disk became a half circle.

“I’m guessing it’s some kind of stage prop,” (Y/N) continued. “It looks perfectly solid and deadly until you activate the hidden mechanism. Lilia himself was the one who retrieved the disk from the cake, since he has amazing night vision. There was a smear of frosting under the table where you must have brushed your hand after getting the disk, Lilia. But, this was also the reason Cater got involved.” (Y/N) held out her hand and Cater handed her his phone, the incriminating video already pulled up. (Y/N) held the phone up, panning it around the room so everyone was able to see. “Lilia wouldn’t have been able to simply walk over to the cake, he was boxed in by Kalim and Epel, not to mention everyone else standing around. So, he teleported. But there’s a problem. When Lilia or Hornton teleport, there’s these magic green sparks. Since Cater was already looking around to film, he would have seen these sparks. But he wasn’t paying close attention to such a small detail while we were all in a panic with the lights going out. When he watched the video back, they would have stuck out subconsciously in his mind and it would have been confusing as to why the video didn’t perfectly match up with his memory. And that’s because those kind of magic sparks don’t show up on camera. Eventually, Cater would have connected the discrepancy, possibly revealing the whole plot early, which is why he had to go.”

Cater shrugged. “I literally figured it out as soon as we got in the luggage car. Too bad Leona here tackled me out of the way.”

“I can’t believe you went along with one of Malleus’s plans,” Ruggie grumbled, casting a strong side eye at Leona.

Leona shrugged nonchalantly. “It gave me a chance to get a nap between everything. And I thought it would be really funny.” He grinned at Ruggie’s glare.

“If you’ll remember,” (Y/N) continued. “It was Hornton who suggested we separate and go try and find the engineer, an engineer he knew from the beginning wasn’t on the train. The whole point of splitting up was to get the next murder ready. Back in the dining car with the rest of us, Silver ‘woke up,’ when in reality he had been awake this whole time. He was meant to serve as a distraction, giving Lilia a chance to teleport away and set up Silver storming out to find the other group. At the front of the train, when everyone realized we were the only ones aboard, Jade would volunteer to go back. He and Silver would meet up in the luggage car and stage the next scene for us to find. There were boxes with holes cut out. Silver hid in one with his legs sticking out, exactly in the middle of the path so we would trip over them, and Jade stood in one so only his upper half was visible. The lights had been tampered with beforehand so it would be too dark for us to pay close attention, not to mention the added panic of thinking we had just found another one of our friends dead.”

Azul smacked Jade’s arm. “Why in the deep blue sea would you agree to something like that?”

“Oh, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be dead,” Jade said with a smile.

“Ace, Deuce, Grim, Epel, and I all ran one way,” (Y/N) continued.

“While I’m guessing Leona grabbed Cater and went the other. As for how they disappeared, I’m guessing Lila had something to do with it, too.”

Lilia clapped his hands. “I did! I was waiting in the luggage car for you all. You wouldn’t have seen me hanging from the ceiling. Once you all had left, I grabbed the others and we teleported out to our hiding spot!” He stretched his back. “I had to make a few trips, though. These old bones aren’t as spry as they used to be.”

“But,” Ortho asked. “Where did you all go?”

“That’s the last secret,” (Y/N) said. “There’s a secret caboose car! When I was out on the balcony outside this car, I noticed that the dust jumping around was behaving oddly. If you paid close attention, you could see the dust and dirt swept up by the train bouncing off something invisible. My guess is there was a secret 5th car added to the end of the train that everyone was waiting in. That’s where I sent these guys,” She waved to Ace, Deuce, and Grim. “To find everyone.”

“You’re lucky we like you so much,” Ace said. “It was insane jumping off the back of the dining car when I couldn’t see where I was landing.”

“But…Why?” Vil asked, perfect mouth pulled into a perfect frown. “Why do all this? Why put us through all this stress? Why make us think we were trapped with a murderer?”

(Y/N) snapped her fingers. “That’s what I kept getting caught up on, too. When I started figuring everything out, that was the only part that didn’t fit. I couldn't, wouldn’t, believe that Hornton would intentionally hurt any of us. But then Deuce said something that made it all click.”

“Yeah!” Deuce said proudly. “What did I say, again?”

“Halloween! More specifically, the first Halloween I was at NRC. After we got rid of the Magicam Monsters, do you remember what happened?”

“We all went to the Spectral Realm,” Sebek said slowly. “Where we thought people had been kidnapped and possessed by ghosts.”

“Which turned out to be Malleus pretending to be possessed to gather us all together for a Halloween party,” Riddle finished.

“LIke I said,” (Y/N) said. “A twisted sense of humor.”

“But a murder?” Trey said, fiddling with his glasses. “That’s still pretty extreme.”

(Y/N) sighed. “And that’s the last part. This whole thing might be my fault. I’m guessing I gave you the idea, Hornton, when I was talking about that mystery novel from my world, Murder on the Orient Express?”

He smiled wide, eyes glittering in pleasure. “I thought it would be a fine surprise. Anyone can read a mystery. It’s another matter entirely to be in the middle of one. But there is one more thing you didn’t catch.” Malleus snapped his fingers. The blurring scenery outside warped and spun, like sand being shaken in an hourglass, before settling back down. He opened the door, revealing the train station they had all boarded from. “We never actually left the station.”

Everyone clambered out of the train, some much more quickly than others to put as much distance between themselves and it as fast as possible. Inside the atrium, there was a new cake, sans trick metal disks, with candles flickering gently. The cake was quickly sliced up and served as Malleus directed everyone back to the train platform. As the group ate cake, fireworks burst in the sky, casting glorious multicolored lights across their faces.

“Thank you, Hornton,” (Y/N) said. “This is beautiful. But-” She suddenly punched his arm, her face as serious as she could make it. “If you ever make me think that my friends are hurt or in danger again, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Of course, dear child of man.”

“Don’t ‘of course’ me. I’m threatening you. Be threatened.”

“Of course. Happy birthday, (Y/N), and many more besides.”

162 notes · View notes

ghostlynightpanda · 29 days ago

Note

hai!!!!! I hope you’re doing super duper well!!!! I was wondering if you could do some hc for aib characters with a reader that’s really short? Plssssss I love how you write you’re amazing!!!!! Full creative liberty tho and also feel free to completely ignore this hehe mwah!!:3

AIB Characters react to a really short Reader

A/N: I hope you like the story! I’ll be honest, I don’t have much firsthand experience with height-related teasing — I’m around 185 cm, so I usually get the opposite. But I based a lot of the comments and moments on things a friend of mine (who’s pretty short) has actually experienced over the years. (She once got mistaken for a child at her workplace and someone even asked if she was there to visit her parents — she’s 26.)

content/warnings: Ann, Kuina, Aguni, Niragi, Last Boss, Chishiya, canon typical blood and violence, 3.045 words

Ann

The first time Ann saw you, she was standing on the second-floor balcony of the Beach, arms crossed, sharp eyes scanning the new arrivals like the former detective she still very much was.

Most were older teens and twenty-somethings. Tough faces. Broken shoes. Blood under their nails. Survivors.

And then there was you.

You stepped through the gates looking like you got lost on the way to school.

Short frame. Soft features. A hoodie two sizes too big. You barely reached the height of the guy next to you, and the guards didn't seem to take you seriously either — they barely even checked you.

Ann's brows knit together.

A kid? Here?

Her instinct kicked in before logic could catch up. She made her way down to the lobby, weaving through the crowd, already mentally preparing how to explain the rules gently. You didn't look like someone who had played many games. Honestly, you barely looked old enough to drive.

You were standing off to the side near the vending machines, eyes calmly watching the chaos.

Ann approached like she was handling a delicate situation — calm, cautious, steady.

“Hey,” she said, her voice low and kind. “You doing okay?”

You looked up at her, a little confused by the tone. “Yeah? Why?”

She gave a small smile, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “I know this place is overwhelming. But I promise you, I'll help however I can. You don't have to be afraid.”

There was a beat of silence.

You blinked.

Then sighed — not annoyed, just… tiredly amused.

“Oh no,” you muttered. “It's happening again.”

Ann paused. “…What is?”

You gave her a dry smile. “You think I'm a child, don't you?”

She blinked. “I just—”

“I'm twenty-four.”

The silence that followed was loud.

You could see the realization dawn on her face — the subtle widening of her eyes, the way she slowly stood back up, visibly recalibrating her entire understanding of the situation.

“…Oh,” she said finally.

You gave a little shrug. “It's fine. Happens more often than I'd like to admit.”

Ann looked genuinely apologetic now, her posture shifting from protective to awkward professionalism. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make assumptions. It's just—”

“—I look like I wandered out of a school trip and into a death game,” you finished, deadpan.

A small laugh escaped her — quiet and sheepish. “Something like that.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “Thanks, though. For trying to help. It's kind of refreshing.”

She studied you for a moment, then nodded with the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Well,” she said, folding her arms again, “if you're going to survive here, I guess I'll have to stop underestimating you.”

“Please do,” you said with mock grandeur. “I may be fun-sized, but I'm deadly.”

That made her laugh — a real one this time, low and warm. Then she tilted her head slightly and said, “Come on. Let's get you settled. Adult or not, it's easier here when someone's got your back.”

You fell into step beside her, feeling a little less out of place.

And from that moment on, Ann never once treated you like anything less than capable — though every now and then, you'd catch a glint of that protective instinct in her eye. Not because she thought you were short.

But because she cared.

Kuina

“You really are bite-sized, huh?”

You froze mid-step, your face already heating up as Kuina sauntered into the room with that signature smirk of hers. She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, amber eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I'm not bite-sized,” you mumbled, pulling the hem of your shirt down, like that would somehow add height. “Just… efficient.”

Kuina chuckled and walked over—long legs eating the distance effortlessly. “You sure? I feel like I could fit you in my jacket pocket.”

You gave her a flat look. “That's not how pockets work.”

“That's not how you work,” she teased, poking your cheek gently with one perfectly manicured finger. “You're like a keychain. Adorable. Easy to lose in a crowd. Very collectible.”

You swatted her hand away, pouting, but it only made her grin wider. “Okay, now you're just making stuff up.”

She leaned down until her face was level with yours. Even crouching, she was somehow graceful and smug all at once. “You're just mad because I'm right.”

You crossed your arms. “You're only taller because of genetics and vengeance.”

“Oh?” Kuina raised an eyebrow. “Vengeance?”

“Yeah. You look like the type who grew tall out of spite. Like, 'oh, I can't reach the cookies? Fine, I'll grow six inches and roundhouse kick the cabinet.'”

Kuina threw her head back and laughed—one of those rich, unrestrained laughs that made your chest flutter. “You really think I kicked my way into tallness?”

“I wouldn't put it past you.”

She ruffled your hair, something she did far too often. “You make it easy. You're practically inviting people to pat you.”

“I swear, if you start using me as an armrest—”

“Tempting,” she purred, dramatically pretending to rest her elbow on your head. “But I'm restraining myself.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered every time she got that close. The teasing wasn't mean—it was fond, effortless, laced with warmth.

Kuina noticed. Of course she did.

“Hey,” she said softly, hand dropping from your head to lightly tap your chin. “All jokes aside… I think it's cute. You're cute.”

You blinked. “That's not fair. You can't just—say things like that.”

“Why not?” she teased, leaning in closer, her lips brushing your ear. “You're fun to fluster.”

You covered your face with your hands. “You're evil.”

“And yet, you keep hanging around.” She stepped back, mock-sighing dramatically. “Short, brave, and foolish. My favorite combo.”

You looked up at her from between your fingers. “You're really not gonna stop teasing me, are you?”

She winked. “Not a chance, tiny.”

Aguni

”Stay close,” Aguni said gruffly as the game began.

You rolled your eyes. “I'm not a lost child.”

He glanced at you, skeptical. You barely came up to his shoulder. In the dim light of the industrial warehouse, with flickering floodlights casting long shadows, you looked even shorter.

Aguni wasn't the type to underestimate people—he'd seen too much for that—but when the game card flipped and showed 6 of Clubs, a simple yet cruel game where one group had to fight the other. Aguni instinctively positioned himself in front of you, muscles taut, ready to shield.

“I can handle myself,” you said quietly, stretching your arms, bouncing on your toes.

He grunted. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Then the doors slammed shut and the game began.

The attackers came fast—two-on-one brawls in the corridors, tight spaces, metal pipes clanging against concrete. Aguni's strength was undeniable. He dropped one opponent with a single devastating elbow and used another as a human shield without hesitation.

But then he heard footsteps to his left—closer to where he'd last seen you.

He turned, expecting to see you needing backup.

Instead, he saw you dancing between attacks.

You weren't blocking blows—you didn't need to. You dodged with an ease that made it almost insulting for the guy trying to land a hit. Your frame was low to the ground, unpredictable, slippery like water. You dipped, ducked, flipped over a railing, kicked someone in the knee, and disappeared into the shadows like you belonged there.

Aguni froze, watching you. One of the enemies lunged at him while he was distracted and he snapped back into motion, annoyed at himself.

The rest of the game passed in a blur—fists, shouts, blood, and breath. But every now and then, Aguni caught glimpses of you moving through the chaos: quick, clever, ghostlike. Untouchable.

When the last opponent dropped and the timer beeped out the end of the game, you reappeared beside him, not even winded.

He stared at you. “You move like a damn stray cat.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smirking. “That an insult or a compliment?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Didn't expect that.”

“I get that a lot,” you said, wiping a smear of blood off your cheek. “People see someone short and assume 'fragile.' But there's more than one kind of strength.”

Aguni studied you, this time with something different in his eyes—recognition. Respect.

“You're not strong,” he said bluntly.

You narrowed your eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

He stepped closer, his gaze heavy but not unkind. “You're not strong like me. But you're fast. Smart. Dangerous in your own way.”

You crossed your arms, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “Was that… a compliment?”

He didn't answer right away. Then, with the faintest twitch of his lips, he said:

“…You'd still lose in an arm wrestle.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Aguni finally cracked a small smile and walked off, calling over his shoulder, “But I'd want you in my corner again. Short or not.”

And in his world, that was as close to a love letter as it got.

Niragi

You were walking beside Niragi through the desolate mall, scanning broken storefronts for supplies for the Beach, when he suddenly stopped mid-step.

“What?” you asked, turning to face him.

He stared at you through a cracked mirror, realizing you didn't even reach his shoulder. His brow furrowed like he was seeing something unbelievable—like he'd never truly noticed the height difference until seeing you side by side in the reflection.

“…Have you always been that short?”

You squinted. “Excuse me?”

He took a slow, exaggerated step back, hands out like he needed to process your existence. “Nah. There's no way. Did you shrink?”

You groaned. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” he said, clearly not serious at all. “You're like a limited-edition fun-size bar. If you were three centimeters shorter, I'd need a microscope.”

You started walking again, ignoring him. Predictably, he followed.

“Like, do you have to take twice the steps I do?” he asked, falling into stride just slightly ahead. “You must be burning calories like crazy. It's practically cardio for you to walk across the room.”

“Must be exhausting carrying all that height and ego,” you muttered.

He barked out a laugh. “Ego's proportional to leg length, baby. And guess what? These legs are premium.”

You shot him a flat look. “And your personality is what—on backorder?”

“Ouch,” he clutched his chest in mock pain. “Don't lash out just because your reach tops out at, like, a kitchen counter.”

You stopped walking. “I can reach shelves just fine.”

“Oh really?” he tilted his head. “Tell that to the box of crackers you knocked over trying to grab earlier. You nearly body slammed a cupboard.”

You rolled your eyes. “That shelf was rigged and you know it.”

Niragi smirked, leaning down so his face was closer to yours. “You're lucky you're cute when you're mad. Little angry hamster energy.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Did you just say I'm cute?”

He didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just gave a grin that was all teeth and trouble. “I said you're cute when you're mad. The rest of the time you're just… compact.”

“Compact?”

“Portable. Travel-sized. Earthquake-safe.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he raised a finger, eyes gleaming.

“In fact,” he said, mock-serious, “you're dangerously close to vanishing. If you were any shorter, I'd trip over you and not even realize it was a person. Just be like, 'oh, weird bump in the floor.'”

You stared at him, deadpan. “You done?”

“Almost,” he said, finally straightening up and walking ahead of you again. “Just trying to understand the daily struggles of being a sentient action figure.”

You muttered under your breath, “And I'm trying to understand how you're still alive with that mouth.”

He laughed again, loud and unfiltered. “Admit it,” he called back. “You love this. If I didn't bully you, you'd start to worry I was sick.”

You caught up to him, shaking your head. “You're insufferable.”

He glanced down at you with a glint in his eye, nudged your shoulder with his elbow, and said just low enough for only you to hear:

“Yeah, but I notice you always walk beside me. Even if you gotta take double the steps.”

And for once, you didn't have a comeback. Because he was right—and damn it, he knew it.

Last Boss

The first time Last Boss took notice of you, you weren't even sure he was looking.

It was during a game — a brutal one. A Spades card, fast and violent. Everyone assumed you were the weak link. You were short, quiet, and didn't radiate danger like he did. But where others relied on brute strength, you were fast, clever, slippery. You never fought to overpower — you fought to outmaneuver.

And when the dust cleared, you weren't just still standing. You were the reason the team survived.

After that, Last Boss watched you. Quietly. Always from the edge of the room. Never saying anything. Never asking for attention. But you felt it — that shift in air, the way your presence mattered to someone who usually saw everyone else as background noise.

He never teased you about your height. That wasn't his style. He didn't speak unless it was necessary — and teasing wasn't ever necessary.

But you noticed things.

Like when you reached for a high shelf in the Beach's crumbling kitchen and, without a word, he appeared behind you, grabbed what you were reaching for, and handed it over before vanishing again. No comment. Just action.

Or the time someone snorted behind your back and muttered something about how “the kid should stay out of the next game.” You didn't even turn around — because he did. He didn't say anything. Just stared at the guy, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade. The silence stretched. Thickened. The guy backed off with an awkward laugh and didn't say another word.

And once, when the Beach was crowded and tense, you felt someone bump into you too hard — half-accident, half-challenge. Before you could even react, Last Boss was beside you, not speaking, just there like a stormcloud with a sword.

People stopped testing you after that.

He never treated you like you were fragile. He didn't hover. He didn't offer pity.

He just… noticed.

When you climbed a cracked wall during a Hearts game and nearly fell, a hand caught your wrist — quick, callused, strong. You looked up, heart racing, and saw him holding you steady, eyes unreadable beneath the darkness of his tattoos.

“Careful,” he said simply. A rare word. Heavy with meaning.

You nodded, breathless. “Thanks.”

He held your gaze for a long moment. Then, silently, he helped you up the rest of the way and kept close the entire game — just enough that you could feel him if you needed him. Never smothering. Just there.

No comments about your height. No jokes. No "short stuff" or "kid" like you'd heard from so many others. Just calm, steady help.

That was the thing with him.

Where others laughed, called you a kid, or acted like your size made you someone to protect or dismiss, he never did. He treated you like an equal.

He watched your movements in games with the same focus he gave anyone else. He handed you things from high shelves without a word. He stood behind you when someone looked at you wrong, not because you needed him, but because he had your back.

He treated you like everyone else.

Maybe even like you mattered.

And in a world where being short often meant being overlooked, that was rare.

That was enough to make you notice him too.

Chishiya

You and Chishiya were walking through the remains of an abandoned pharmacy, the faint smell of dust and expired medicine lingering in the air. He moved with his usual casual arrogance — hands in his hoodie pockets, white-bleached hair catching what little light filtered in through the broken windows.

You were focused on scanning the shelves for painkillers when you heard his voice behind you, smooth and dry as ever.

“Must be hard living in a world built for regular-sized people.”

You blinked, slowly turning to face him. “Excuse me?”

Chishiya leaned lazily against the doorway, one brow arched, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It's cute, really. The way you had to tiptoe just to reach the middle shelf.”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

“Funny coming from you,” you said flatly. “I'm pretty sure we'd see eye to eye if you didn't have that hair giving you a centimeter advantage.”

He blinked — just once — then let out the tiniest huff of amusement.

“Touché,” he said.

You crossed your arms. “Don't act like you're towering over anyone. For a guy, you're compact. If we were action figures, you'd come in a limited edition 'pocket strategist' line.”

“Better than being fun-sized chaos,” he murmured, that damn smirk deepening.

“Please. You're only pretending to be taller because you only hang around people like Kuina. It's all part of your illusion game.”

He gave a slow, sarcastic nod. “You've cracked my greatest deception. Well done.”

You shrugged, mock casual. “Don't worry. I won't expose your secrets. We short people have to stick together, after all.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp but almost... amused. “So now I'm one of you?”

“You always were. You just hide it behind good posture and a god complex.”

There was a long pause.

Then, quietly, he said, “You know, most people don't talk to me like this.”

You smiled. “Most people don't get the chance.”

He looked at you for a moment longer than usual — no smirk now, just that quiet, calculating stillness he wore when something (or someone) had truly caught his attention.

Then, with a soft scoff, he turned away.

“Let's keep moving,” he said, already walking toward the back exit. “Before you need help reaching another shelf.”

You rolled your eyes and followed, calling out, “Don't trip on your ego, Chishiya. You're not tall enough to survive the fall.”

You didn't see it, but his smirk returned — just barely — and lingered longer than it probably should have.

Masterlist

#alice in borderland #Ann x reader #Ann Rizuna x reader #Kuina x reader #Kuina Hikari x reader #Aguni x reader #aguni morizono x reader #niragi x reader #Niragi Suguru x reader #last boss x reader #takatora samura x reader #chishiya x reader #Chishiya Shuntaro x reader

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samsblades · 6 months ago

Text

✶ out of my head — spencer reid

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental exhaustion, very little dialogue, unedited, 985 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “i can’t get you out of my head.”

the town is small, the case is hard, and the nights aren’t restful. for this week, it’s two to a seedy motel room. spencer’s your roommate this time around, which helps nothing at all. you should be used to how beautiful he looks when he’s sleepy and just woken up in the morning, but it makes your chest tighten to the point where you nearly stop breathing. it’s not as if you haven’t shared a room with him for a case before, but there’s some weird intimacy about sharing this room.

he’s in the bathroom, washing his hands, as he’s been doing often this trip. the first time you walked into the room with him, go-bags heavy after a long flight, he sprouted off some statistic regarding the cleanliness of motel rooms, or rather the lack thereof. you think he was trying to cover up how nervous it made him, and you offered to take his sheets and blanket to the laundromat you passed. the signage had told you that it’s always open late. you certainly wouldn’t mind extra clean sheets either.

he refused, though, saying he’d do it himself if he really needed to, and that you shouldn’t have to do that for him. but you don’t really think about it in terms of should or shouldn’t, more so that it makes you glad to do anything for him at all. you stay quiet though, and let this one slide. as long as he sleeps alright, it’s fine with you.

sleeping well is a relative term, of course. it’s two in the morning right now, and you’ve just gotten back from the station. hotch sent you all to bed after a break in the case. the night shift detectives will keep working until you all get at least a bit of rest.

you drift over to the bathroom, its warm light casting spencer’s form in soft shadow. he hears your sigh before your quiet footsteps, and turns his neck to look at you. he gives you a soft smile, drying his hands on the small towel. you try not to stare; he has very pretty hands.

“hey,” he murmurs, making no move to leave the bathroom. he can tell by the way you padded over that you don’t actually need the room for anything. that, and you used it and brushed your teeth first thing after getting back. you’ve already donned your sleep clothes, too. you move forward, and he steps back, leaving room for you at the sink. the heels of your hands meet the cool ceramic of the sink as you lean against it, facing him from less than a foot away. the bathroom most definitely is not a generous size.

“hey,” you echo, voice just as soft as his. to him, you sound even more tired than usual. resigned, even. he’s trying to decide if you’ll respond decently to him asking if you’re okay. you speak again before he can decide. “spence?”

“yeah?” he wants to call you honey, but he doesn’t. but the way you say his name is begging for him to respond with equal sweetness and intimacy. or maybe honey is doubly sweet and intimate, but to him, your voice saying his nickname like that is the same as if you called him baby. he’s shy, but he wishes you’d call him that.

you look at him with sad eyes and he wishes that look would go away. i can’t get you out of my head, you want to say. “i’m tired,” is what comes out, anticlimactic and falling flat on the tile floor.

but his eyes fill with sympathy regardless and he gives a little frown on your behalf. even if you were going to say something else, the words that leave your lips are just as true. you are tired, very much so. not just from the case or the lumpy bed, but from everything, you suppose. it’s a bone deep type of exhaustion, and somehow your growing love for him is the only thing you can think about these days. it’s pressing to get out and make itself known, and now it feels heavy and oppressive.

“it’s been a long day,” spencer agrees. he knows how you feel, at least in terms of the exhaustions, and that it’s really not about just today. but he also knows that you know that, and that there’s not much to say. not right now, at least. it’s not the time for that sort of conversation, he can tell.

you swallow, suddenly nervous. you’re asking yourself why the hell you walked into this damn bathroom, put yourself so close to him without the option to actually close the distance. but you sort of just want to hug him. you want to get it off your chest, because you think it’ll make some of the exhaustion go away. though things could certainly get worse.

“i can’t get you out of my head, you know.” this time, the words slip out before you can stop them. you’re not sure if it’s the right thing to say, the right way to tell him, but you suppose the meaning is implied and that you’ve gone out and said it, finally. that makes your shoulders drop, and a relieved huff of breath leaves your lips. even if he doesn’t feel the same, at least you’ve said it.

most other days, spencer would’ve kissed you, maybe after clumsily telling you that he can’t get you out of his head either. but today, you’re sagging and tired, so he pulls you into his arms with a certain sort of ease that tells you he doesn’t mind being close to you. he likes it, even. he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your forehead, and that’s your answer. he’ll stay stuck in your head, but it will be far more bearable because he loves you back.

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jeonstudios · 1 year ago

Text

dextrocardia | 14

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 9.7k

warnings: a LOT of bodyshaming and fathobia and sexism

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 14/?

“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”

“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”

It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”

He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”

Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.

“Are you still scared of me?”

You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.

“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.

“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”

Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”

“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”

“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”

You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”

Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.

“I did. It was a good kiss.”

“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”

“You’re sure? Even from me?”

You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.

“Absolutely.”

You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away.

Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.

So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.

“There.”

You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.

For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.

When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.

Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?

Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.

“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.

“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”

A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.

“What are you looking for?”

He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”

You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until…

“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.

You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”

Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Come here for a second.”

Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.

You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”

He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”

“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”

“Oh. Will do.”

For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll see you later.”

With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.

When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.

You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.

“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”

Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.

“I’m alright.”

But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.

“You’re doing what you can.”

“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”

He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?

“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”

He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.

“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

‘Right now’ as in alive.

“But I–”

“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”

“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.

“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”

At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.

Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.

Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower.

“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think.

“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.

“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”

“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”

“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”

“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.

He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.

You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.

Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.

By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.

“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”

“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily.

“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”

“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face.

“Jeongguk!”

Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.

“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.

Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.

While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work.

“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.

“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.

“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.

He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.

“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”

Wow, way to flex.

“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.

“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.”

You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.

Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours.

In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body.

Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.

When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you.

So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.

Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.

The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest.

You could kiss him. You could.

He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly.

He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.

This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.

So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.

In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “

“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.

“I’m not really your type.”

He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”

Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.

Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you.

A sweet girl.

Right?

A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere.

But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.

He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.

So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.”

It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.

And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.

When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.

“No, I–”

“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”

Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”

You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.

The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”

You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.

“Yeah,” you answer regardless.

When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.

“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”

Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.

“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”

“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.

After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.

“Morning.”

You stop, hands mid eye-rub.

“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.

“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”

He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.

“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”

It smells good because he smells good.

He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”

“Okay, uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

At least the awkwardness was for another reason.

You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside.

“Making any progress?”

He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand.

“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”

“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”

“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”

You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”

“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.

“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”

“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps.

“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him.

You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”

He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“Mhm, you were already in here.”

“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”

“It’s alright; go ahead.”

He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.

For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.

Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.

You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.

And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own.

When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.

But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.

Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?

Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return.

An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.

The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.

“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”

“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?”

He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you.

You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.

“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”

Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.

“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.

You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”

He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.

Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.

“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”

His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.

“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”

Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.

He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive.

The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.

Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm.

You give in.

“Kiss me?”

He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.

“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”

You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.

“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.

“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.”

You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?

“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”

Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.

“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”

You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.

You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.

“Okay. Close your eyes?”

Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.

Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.

“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.

“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”

You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.

Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”

“Blindfold.”

Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.

“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Okay then.”

With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?

Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.

“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.

You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”

But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.

“You scare me.”

He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.

“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”

“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.

So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”

“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”

For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”

You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”

It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.

“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”

It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “

“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “

“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”

“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of.

“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”

Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.

Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.

“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”

The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face.

He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.

“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles.

“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?

“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.

“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’

"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.

"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”

Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.

“No.”

“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”

“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”

You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already packed my stuff.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”

Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”

Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”

You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.

“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”

You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.

“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”

Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.

A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”

It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to.

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.

Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.

“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”

But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.

author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333

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