#Maybe i should paint some fake blood on the tape or something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachiemin · 5 years

Text

underground | taehyung (m.)

| taehyung x female reader | fluff, smut, angst | art dealer!au detective!au |

word count: 24.3k

warnings: violence, mentions of blood, language, murder, dirty talk, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (STAY SAFE), spanking, choking, multiple orgasms, degradation, sir/daddy kink (Taehyung really loves it), throat fucking

synopsis: Being a top detective gives you priority over which case you want. Choosing the file Vante with hopes of it being short and sweet takes a drastic turn each time you think you’re a step ahead.

author’s note: I’m sorry this is so long. I truly got carried away. I have been working at this piece for over a month. I really hope you all will take the time to read it. This oneshot was based on a movie and it follows basically the same plot and I use some of the same characters. Thank you and I hope you all enjoy!

peachiemin: please do not repost, translate, or modify any of my work.

The soft sound of music filled the environment. Waitresses walked around with flaming drinks balanced on their tray, men dressed sharply and women hanging off their arms. The club was dimly lit, blue lights hanging off the ceiling and a wall full of special drinks shined under the light. To him this was nothing new, meeting clients almost every night, selling pieces of arts that were worth nothing but earning millions; it was his way of life, the way he pulled in money.

Thrumming his fingers against the table a smirk plastered across his face, his client unknowing of the three-hundred dollar vase he has under the table that he would be selling for three-million. Quirking his eyebrow, the layout of his escape if things were to go south planned out: His hitman, Min Yoongi, sat behind him, his ears trained to notice any signs of distress or keywords that would signal him to attack. Behind him was the back exit, the way he had come in and to his left, two of his clients bodyguards stood guard and his two hitmen sat to the right and left of Taehyung glaring him down and in front of him, his client Kim Dongsoo sat, staring Taehyung down as if he would vanish into thin air.

“Show it to me.” The rude statement made Taehyung chuckle.

“Not even a hello?” He laughed, “Rude but come on.” He grinned at Dongsoo’s bodyguard, patting the table as if the man was a five-year-old needed step-by-step. A low growl emitted from the man causing Taehyung to smile even more devilish.

Gently placing a thick leather briefcase on the table, Taehyung slipped on white gloves, wiggling his eyebrows at Dongsoo. “What a beautiful vase you have chosen to buy from me.” He smiled, the soft sound of the box unlocking as Taehyung flipped the latches back. He gently wrapped his clothed fingers around the vase, lifting it as the hitman placed the carrier back on the ground.

“The Pinner Qianlong Vase,” Taehyung awed, gently setting the piece on the table, “made in 1740.”

“Surely this isn’t some fake that you had someone paint acrylic over?” Dongsoo raised an eyebrow, his eyes trained on Taehyung rather than the vase placed in front of him.

Resting his elbow on the table, Taehyung cocked his head to the side. “Now would I do that to you? Clearly, you made a magnificent purchase from me last time I recall; Pollice Verso if I’m not mistaken—“

“A piece that you sold to me which was reprinted!” His fist slammed against the table, Taehyung fell back into his chair, Yoongi’s hand twitching against the pistol that was settled on his hip.

“You’re mistaken,” Taehyung responded cooly.

“If I should trust you,” Dongsoo motioned at his men, “then here’s the money you’re asking for.” His hitman placed the wad of cash on the table, Taehyung’s mouth drooling at the sight.

“When you trust me,” Taehyung corrected, “You’ll leave this club with an original piece.”

There was a moment of silence. Taehyung’s hand slowly came to rest against his side, the colt cold against his warm skin. However, the silence was long gone before the sound of a knife piercing through the cash echoed through Taehyung’s ear and the scruff of the chairs against the floor.

Yoongi was quick to blow the first bullet, dodging the hitman who quickly fired back. Taehyung glanced up, Dongsoo’s eyes glaring at him and if they could, he would be dead. Jerking the gun off his side, Taehyung aimed the colt at the one hitman, his bullet slicing through the man’s heart, his body slumping to the floor. The sound of gunshots rang through the club, people screaming, running, and all of a sudden, the table he once occupied was on fire and the vase he was to sell shattered by the bullet that whizzed past.

“Oh fuck,” Taehyung hissed.

Dongsoo was long gone, his bodyguards taking him away to safety but Taehyung could care less. His fingers quickly wrapped around the knife working it back and forth, the metal not budging from the wad of money.

“We have to go, Taehyung,” Yoongi exclaimed, sending another bullet that finally pierced the last hitman’s head.

“Hold on,” He grunted, finally wedging the metal out of the money and shoving the paper into his pocket.

Yoongi shoved Taehyung in front of him before exiting out the back, the sound of sirens wailing from the other side. Opening the door to the Audi, Taehyung slumped into the seat, Yoongi revving the engine before leaving, the blue lights casting an eerie sight.

“Well,” Taehyung groaned, pulling the cash out his pocket, “At least I got the money.”

Yoongi scoffed, “And you about lost your head too.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Three-million, hyung. Let’s go eat shall we?”

Your head hung low as annoyance spread throughout your body. You wanted to push all these folders off the table, quit your job and move away so no one could find you but you couldn’t risk that; the sound of the waves hitting the beach filling your ears does seem peaceful.

“Please,” You cried out, “Please let me do something else.” You groaned, throwing your hands down in frustration. “I’m tired of all these drug and murder cases, I want something new! Something that requires me to think.” Your boss, Kim Seokjin, only raised an eyebrow at you. “Seriously Seokjin, I can go outside and bust four cases easily. Please, I’m begging you.”

He only sighed, bringing his fingers up to rub at his temples. Luckily for you, you were one of his best detectives. You had been in the force for six years now and you have outdone people who had been there for ten or more years. He respected you and to your request, he motioned for you to follow him. Taking you to his office, Seokjin closed the door behind you, opening the filing cabinet that sat right beside the door.

“I have files in here that have been opened for years and we haven’t closed them,” He grunted, tossing folders on his desk.

After tossing the last file onto his desk, he made his way back to his chair, plopping down before lacing his fingers together, looking at you. You only looked at him once before rummaging through the folders. Some had opened twenty years ago and had never been solved and some just didn’t seem worthy enough to even waste the detective’s time.

“Find a case yet?” Seokjin smirked, his eyes following your every movement.

“No,” You mumbled, tossing another folder into the floor.

As soon as you were about to say fuck it, your eyes fell upon a thick folder that had been held together by rubber bands. Furrowing your eyebrows, you grabbed the file and began undoing the bands. Opening the folder, the name Vante written across the top.

“Vante,” You mumbled.

“Ah,” Seokjin exclaimed, “That is one filthy art dealer who will do anything to get his hands on some money.”

“He?”

“Mm,” Seokjin nodded, “Kim Taehyung. Buys fake artwork and sells it overpriced to make money off of inexperienced buyers or has them worked on to look like it came straight from the museum to sell to experienced buyers, art dealers like himself.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What’s his file doing in your case file?”

“He’s killed many of men bu—“

“Chief!” You jerked your head, another detective, Jung Hoseok, stood in the doorway, his chest slowly panting, “There’s been a murder. The government has asked for us to take over.”

Seokjin nodded his head, motioning for Hoseok to leave, “Want to take this case?”

“I told you I didn’t want to work on any murder cases,”

“At least go scope it out for me.”

“Fine,” You huffed, tucking the Vante file under your arm, “but I’m taking Jimin.”

“Maybe this will be your big break,” Jimin, your long time friend in the detective field.

You scoffed, shutting the door behind you. “I highly doubt that.”

You scoped the area, police cars swarming the area. You both jogged up the steps, the surrounding officers blocking the entrance.

“This is official police work.” One grunted.

Sighing, you grabbed your badge, flipping it around, “I’ve been sent here to take this case.”

Scowling, “Move out men, there’s been a jurisdictional change.”

Smiling, you move to the side, a swarm of police men leaving the premises, Jimin smirked. It always felt nice to see men scold because a woman was taking over their case.

Once the last man left, you and Jimin walked in, your eyes falling on the spot that had caution tape wrapped around it. Paintbrushes scattered the table, art pieces decorating the room, dried blood staining the wood.

“What the hell…” You mumbled, glancing around.

Before you could say anything else, a woman walked in the room, her cheeks stained with tears, her nose red as if she cried all night.

“Hi,” She whispered, wiping her nose gently with a tissue, “I assume you’re the detectives that the government sent for.”

“Yes ma’am.” You sent her a warm smile, Jimin doing the same. “What happened if you don’t mind me asking?”

She sighed, “Miss Choi has been very distant here lately, recently fixing up some paintings. She had informed me that she was cleaning The Grande Odalisque; a painting that she said was dear to her. I come here every evening to help her clean but last night I came and her body was limp, blood pouring from her throat and the painting gone.”

You glanced at Jimin, his eyebrows furrowed, “Gone?”

“Yes,” the girl whispered, “Everything else is here but that painting.” She emphasized with a point to the table.

“Alright, thank you.” You smiled.

Sending you a quick nod, the girl turned away, her dress swaying with every step she took. Sighing, you glanced back at Jimin who was only looking more confused by the second.

“What does someone want with a fucking painting,” Jimin spat out, leaning his weight against a counter.

“I don’t know…” You mumbled, your eyes fixed on the table, “But, I think I might have an idea on who could give us some answers.”

“And who is that?” Jimin quizzed, crossing his arms, looking at you with disbelief.

“Just a con artist named Kim Taehyung.”

“And how is a con artist going to help us?”

You crossed your arms and made your way towards the exit, the sound of Jimin hot on your trail causing you to smirk.

“According to Seokjin, Kim knows his way around art, preferably the underground aspects of it.” You hummed, opening your car door as Jimin got behind the wheel.

“And what is some underground art douche going to know what we need to know?”

“His file is pretty thick,” You shot back, “and I’m going to use that against him.”

You grabbed his file from the floorboard, grunting as it plopped down on your lap.

“Ah,” You exclaimed, “Here’s his address.”

Typing the address into your phone, you and Jimin head that way, Jimin telling you all the things that could go wrong but Jimin had worries on every case, especially when you were involved. Once Jimin let out all his frustration, you found yourself at Taehyung’s address, a long gravel road ahead of you and a large white mansion sitting at the end.

“Fuck,” Jimin hissed.

Once the car came to a halt, a figure came walking out the house, his hair bleach blonde and his body dressed with all black, his right arm covered in black tattoos. Grabbing the file, you get out, Jimin following right behind as you approached this mysterious figure.

“And who are you?” His gruff voice called out, his arms now coming up to cross against his chest.

“I’m Detective ______ and this is Detective Park. We’re here to speak to Kim Taehyung.”

He nodded his head, motioning for you both to follow. His mansion was filled with artwork, vases, and small sculptures that resembled the larger ones you learned about in school. As your feet echoed down the hall, the man stopped you, his palm pressing against your shoulder, Jimin stepping up.

“Let me ask him first,”

Nodding your head, he opened a large mahogany door, speaking a few words before turning back at you, jerking his head for you both to come in. You walked past him, his eyes following you but your eyes landing on the black hair that sat on a leather chair, his back facing you.

“Have a seat,” The figure called out, gesturing towards the other leather chair.

Clearing your throat, you make your way over to the chair, your breath getting caught in your throat. This man, Kim Taehyung, was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His lips plump, his skin sun-kissed, and his brown eyes pierced right back at you, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips.

“And what brings a detective to my home?” He enquired, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smirked, “I was brought here because there has been a murder,”

“Ah,” He laughed, “what does a murder have to do with an art dealer like m—“

“Let me talk,” You interrupted, “A woman named Miss Choi died yesterday because of a certain painting she was cleaning. Perhaps you know of the painting; The Grande Odalisque.”

He breathed out, “Even if I did, what’s in it for me for helping the feds?”

“This,” You reached over and took the file from Jimin, dropping the thick folder on his coffee table, dust flying off the file. “If you don’t help me, I’ll turn you in for embezzlement, second degree murder with a gun, and hm, let’s see,” You flipped through his files some more, “ah, and money laundering. So tell me, Mr. Kim, I can turn this in and you and I assume your hitman over here can spend the rest of your life in prison or you can help me find the person who murdered this old woman and find the missing painting. Which one sounds better to you?” You raised an eyebrow.

He pursed his lips, leaning over and shutting the file, “Fine, I’ll help,” He huffed, “But I expect to be paid on my part,”

“And ten percent,” The man behind him whispered causing Taehyung to nod his head.

“Yes, as well as ten percent.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll meet you back at Jeon’s,” Taehyung mumbled, patting the side of the car before crossing the road.

After you had left, Taehyung quickly made suit and now he was here, at this dreadful library. The only person who might know of a lead is another filthy art dealer like himself, Kim Namjoon. Namjoon never trusted Taehyung, thinking the young man would short him out some money but Taehyung knew never to try Namjoon, for the man would burn his house down with Taehyung in it. He was a ruthless man, never caring what people thought; a scar running down the side of his cheek to be exact. Taehyung was never truly nervous around anyone but Namjoon, on the other hand, made his finger twitch with every movement.

The sound of his feet echoed throughout the room, people scattered throughout and the man of the hour sat back, a wine glass in his hand and a scornful look on his face.

“Ah, Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung hummed, making himself a glass of wine before making himself comfortable.

“What is it?” He growled setting his glass down, Taehyung smirked, bringing the glass to his lips.

“Nothing peculiar,” He sighed, “Just had a client interested in a piece.”

“And what piece is that?”

“The Grande Odalisque,”

Namjoon scoffed, “And what would one of your clients want with that piece? There’s only one in the whole world,” Namjoon stood up, walking over to the bookcase that stood tall beside him, pulling out a thick leather book. “And,” He continued, “The last time it was seen was after the Battle of Bayonne which if I remember, France lost. So,” He sat back down in front of Taehyung, raising an eyebrow, “I highly assume that the piece is gone.”

Taehyung cocked his head to the side, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,”

Standing up, Taehyung sat his glass down and brushed his pants off, “And what makes you so sure of that?” Namjoon quizzed, watching Taehyung’s every move.

“Mm, I just have this gut feeling you know,” Sending a fake smile towards Namjoon.

He made his way back towards the exit but he was soon shoved into a corner of the library, Namjoon gripping his shoulders, shoving the young man against the wall, a grunt escaping past his lips.

“If I even hear that you have anything to do with that piece, I will personally ruin you.”

“Noted,”

Namjoon finally let loose and walked away.

If Taehyung’s file wasn’t so thick, he wouldn’t give two shits about this painting; nude photos weren’t really his style. That wasn’t the only reason he agreed to this case, you were solely another reason. You were beautiful. He’s been with many girls but you, you took his breath away. There was something so hot about a woman being in charge and if he was to be truthful, it made him kind of horny.

Making his way down the front of the library, Taehyung glanced around before taking a quick turn to the right down a dimly lit alleyway filled with graffiti. Jeon’s car garage only served art dealers like Taehyung, knowing how where to place art pieces so dealers could smuggle their pieces off to different parts of the world. To Taehyung’s dismay, he had one buyer from the States, not truly caring to have any business with him but the man was money-hungry for any piece Taehyung could give him just so he could turn around and sell it for more. However, the joke was normally on him, the pieces Taehyung selling him worth less than what Taehyung was selling it for. That’s how he played his game and so far, he’s done a pretty good damn job at it.

“Ah, Jeon,” Taehyung called out, his voice echoing throughout the workshop. Rolls Royce, Audis, Lamborghini’s and any expensive car that one could imagine lingered throughout this shop.

“Taehyung,” A young man with black hair came climbing up the ladder. “How have you been you no good son of a bitch?”

Taehyung chuckled, “I’ve been good,”

Jungkook was young, taking on his father’s business after he passed five years ago. If Taehyung was honest, he’s done better work on his car than Jungkook’s father has ever done.

His body was decked out in an all-black jumpsuit, a red cloth wiping off the oil before he stuck his hand out, Taehyung smiled, shaking the young man’s hand.

“You know, Taehyung, you need to be nicer to your car,” He exclaimed, wiping some dust off the front, “Audi’s are wonderful cars and if you keep treating it the way you do then—“

The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the shop, Jungkook grunting as the mysterious bullet settled into his chest.

“Oh fuck!” Taehyung called out, watching as Jungkook cupped his chest, blood painting his hand.

“I’ve been shot,” He whimpered.

Before Taehyung could even get the young man to safety, another shot sounded off, hitting Jungkook once more in the chest. A pained screamed left his lips before he collapsed on the ground, his body lifeless.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Taehyung panicked, ducking down between the two cars, pulling his colt out of his pocket.

Another shot went off, the bullet smashing the mirror off a car, glass falling onto Taehyung. Perching up, Taehyung saw a man ducking behind a car. Cocking his gun, Taehyung sent a shot towards the man, the bullet ricocheting off a car.

“Taehyung,”

The gruff voice of Yoongi calmed Taehyung’s nerves a bit. Yoongi stepped over Jungkook, groaning at the site but quickly sent another bullet towards the man who dodged it, making Yoongi growl.

“Leave through the back, Taehyung. I’ll pick you up once I kill this fucker.”

Taehyung nodded, quickly rising to his feet, gunshots going off once more. Finding himself in the back, Taehyung took off, panting as he looked for a place to duck until Yoongi would get him but he was soon rammed into the wall, a huff of air escaping his lungs.

“Give me the painting,”

“What?”

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows, a French-sounding man had him pinned against the wall, his gun settling between his fingers in one hand.

“Give me the painting,” He growled once more.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Taehyung shot back.

“I know you have the painting,” He urged on, pressing Taehyung harder into the wall.

“What fucking painting?”

“The Grande Odalisque!”

Before Taehyung could even answer, the man's body was slung off Taehyung, the Audi stopped right in front of him.

“Get in!” Yoongi called.

Taehyung glanced at the man who was groaning, rolling his body around on the ground before getting in the car. Backing the car out, Yoongi sped off, the only sound was the pants of Taehyung.

“We need to meet up with the Detective…Now!”

You leaned against the table, your head hanging between your shoulders. A soft sigh escaped your lips as your eyes graced over the report for the fiftieth time it seemed. Jimin was sat beside you, his hair flopping over his forehead, his eyes scanning the same file you were currently looking at. You couldn’t understand what the significance of this Ingres piece. “Alright,” You mumbled, standing up straight, “We’ll just start from the beginning again.” A groan passed Jimin’s lips, “Miss Choi began cleaning the Ingres piece Tuesday evening, her helper already gone and locking her home up beside the backdoor of her art studio. By herself, Miss Choi had no suspensions but there was someone creeping in her backyard who then came to her window, silently opening it and sneaking through—“

“How didn’t she hear them?” Jimin scoffed, rubbing his hands against his face.

“Either way, her throat was slit and the Odalisque missing.”

You leaned back against the table, your eyes gazing at the photos that the police department sent over. From the looks of it, Miss Choi had to have been in her late seventies. Sighing, you crammed all the photos into a pile, placing them back in their designated folder.

“I just don’t understand the significance of this piece.”

“Which is why I’ve brought Taehyung into this case,” You answered, tossing the file on top of Taehyung’s file.

Before Jimin could send you a snarky response, your phone began buzzing, a restricted number shining on the screen. Glancing up at Jimin, you answer the phone, static quickly filling your ear.

“Hello?” You grunt, pulling the phone slightly from your ear.

“Is this Detective _____?” The voice rang.

“Who’s speaking?” “Taehyung,” Your eyes widen, mouthing his name to Jimin.

“Find out anything?” “Meet me back at my mansion now.” He ended the call, a soft sigh leaving your lips. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you gather the files and leave Jimin with a confusing look on his face. The ride to Taehyung’s was fast, your mind filling with questions. His hitman was out in the front already waiting for you, a new scratch adorning his face. Sending you a curt smile, he led you to a different room. A large table and books adorned the room and Taehyung sat at the end of the table, a finger pressed to his lips and his eyes zoned out. “Taehyung,” His head jerked up, his lips falling into a frown. “Sit,” His voice rumbled. Your thighs clenched at his voice. Sitting down beside him, you sat the files down on the table, his eyes landing on his in particular. “Do you really have to carry that fucking thing around with you?” You sighed, “Why’d you have me come here?” “Come sit down, Yoongi.” His hitman, who now has a name, sat down in front of you, his eyes landing on you. You studied his face, a cut going through his eyebrow and a bandage peeking out from underneath his shirt. “People think I have the missing Odalisque.” “Well do you?” You quizzed. “No,” He shot back, slowly breathing as he sent you a glare, “I didn’t even care for that fucking piece. Not only that,” He continued, “The man who tried to kill me today killed my fucking car guy! He was two years shy of my age and now he’s dead.” You choked on your spit, eyes wide at the comment, “Someone tried killing you?” “He’s not from here. He sounds like he’s from France but from the information, I gathered earlier, that Odalisque had last been seen after the Battle of Bayonne.” “And when was that?” “1814” You sighed, hanging your head low as you tried understanding all the information that was given to you. If that painting was last seen in 1814, then how did Miss Choi get ahold of it? “There’s said to be only one in the whole world,” Taehyung piped up, “but, if that’s the case then I don’t understand how that woman got ahold of such a painting.” “Maybe there’s more than one painting,” You whispered. Grabbing her file, you open and disperse the photos on the table, Taehyung and Yoongi grabbing random ones. “Oh god,” Taehyung grumbled, tossing the photo of her neck onto the table, “There must be something pretty significant about this painting if someone is willing to slice an old woman’s throat up like that.” “I know,” You mumbled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, “I feel like there’s no lead. We know all that we can know.” “Do you think you can take us to the crime scene?” Taehyung quizzed. “I don’t see why not,” Gathering your files, you take your own self out, Taehyung and Yoongi following behind. You have officially decided that this case was going to be the death of you and it only truly started today. You mentally groaned, your nerves making your fingers twitch with anticipation. You wanted this whole case to just blow over but in reality, the man behind you that talked of art intrigued you. You normally weren’t one to fall in love so easily at first sight but this man, this dashing young man whose hair was as black as night and his beauty out of this world, you couldn’t help but fall in love. Thankfully for you, you were good at hiding your emotions, good at not showing the fact that anytime he flicked his eyes towards you or licked his plump ass lips, he couldn’t tell that your stomach flipped and heat pulled between your legs. As you arrived at the crime scene, the sky had darkened and rain slowly began falling. You had informed her helper that you were coming, leaving the backdoor open for you. Motioning for Taehyung and Yoongi to follow, the two had odd sayings about the house, making comments on everything they saw. You wanted to laugh but you were here on duty. Opening the backdoor, Miss Choi’s helper sat in the studio, her face not as rosy and her eyes not as swollen, she seemed better. “Hi,” You said softly, sending her a smile. “Hello,” “This is Kim Taehyung and his bodyguard Yoongi, they’re helping me on this case.” Both men sent her a smile, rummaging around. “Detective ______, I found a camera in her drawer when I was cleaning,” The helper started, grabbing an envelope from the table that sat beside her, “Miss Choi always took pictures of her progress.” She smiled, holding back tears as she spoke of the late Miss Choi. “I printed all the pictures that had the painting in them. I hope this helps.” Thanking her, the young girl left once more, leaving you with Taehyung and Yoongi. Sighing, you found yourself standing at the same table she was murdered at once again. “Oh god,” Taehyung gagged making you jerk your head towards him. Two of his fingers barely grasping a sheet of paper that had a note written on it. “Love your bug…” He gagged once more. You walked over and took the paper from him, scoffing. Your eyes scanned the note which was written in crayon and had a smiley face drawn at the bottom. “She had children,” He cringed, his body shuddering as he moved to another spot of the room. “Whose bug?” You murmured, placing the note back onto the table. Turning around, you noticed Taehyung throwing his head back with wine pouring into his mouth. “Taehyung you can’t move anything from the crime scene or drink anything at that.” He wiped his mouth, “Sorry,” Walking back to the table, you shuffle through the pictures once again, nothing deeming itself important. “There’s nothing important in these photos,” You groan, wanting to throw a whole tantrum but the presence of Taehyung standing beside you seemingly calmed you down. His thick fingers began shuffling through the photos, tossing some that weren’t important until he stopped on one picture, bringing the paper closer. “What is it?” You quizzed, standing on the tip of your toes to view the picture. It was an accidental picture; her face filling half the picture but the painting was gently bent in half in the background. “Hm,” his voice rumbled, dropping the rest of the pictures in his hand onto the table, “There’s a set of numbers on the back of the painting.” “And why does that matter?” “Because,” He sighed, shoving the picture into his coat pocket, “The only reason there were ever numbers on the back of paintings, back in those times, were numbers to riches.” “What kind of riches?” “Money. Loads and loads of money.” You nodded your head, resting your weight against the table, crossing your arms against your chest. “And what will we do with numbers to an account that we have no way of accessing?” You quizzed, looking up at the man who was nibbling on his lips, his mind wondering the same as you. He sighed, throwing his head back as he brought his hand up to his face to rub his jaw, “I hate that I’m even suggesting this—“ “What?” You interrupt. “Let me speak,” He mocked, sending you a smirk once your face showed annoyance, “I know of an English man who can enter these numbers and find how much money is involved.” “And who's this man?” “Charlie Mortdecai.” “Mortdecai…” You mumbled. “Another successful art dealer like me but he’s more on the broke side while I’m rolling around in money.” “God you people are everywhere,” You scoffed. His laugh filled the room, your cheeks flushing at the sound. “Yes but it pains me to say this: we need to fly to London.”

The flight over to London seemed long and quite terrible at that. Taehyung and Yoongi kept your ears—well mainly Taehyung—kept your ears filled with nonsense. He spoke of how terrible the wine was, how you were so quiet and the best one of all, he asked about your love life. You wanted to blush, tell the sweet man that you had a man to yourself but you found yourself telling the truth, letting him know that you haven’t dated since you entered the detective field. This however made his ears perk. He found you attractive and you found him attractive—or from what he could tell—he found no problem in you two talking.

Sadly, what made things tenser, was the fact that you had to share a room with Taehyung. The hotel ended up messing up the rooms, giving Yoongi a one-bedroom stay with a queen-sized bed and left you and Taehyung with two full-sized beds which were arm lengths apart. You tried entertaining the thought of you and Yoongi switching rooms but all you got was a grunt and a small laugh leaving Taehyung’s lips as his grumpy hitman slammed the door in your face, a pout settling on your lips.

“I don’t understand why you’re laughing,” You huffed, roughly shoving the keycard into the slot.

“Yoongi is not someone who would give up a one-person room,” He hummed, shutting the door behind him as you chunked your suitcase onto a nearby chair.

“And why’s that?” You hiss, crossing your arms which only made him laugh more.

“He likes to hook up with people,” He replied calmly, “I don’t blame him though. If I could end up with random girls every night I would.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Why can’t you? You’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

Taehyung chuckled, throwing his long body on the bed, his black curls laying neatly on his pillow, “I’d rather get myself involved with a smart woman. Someone who is a challenge keeps me on my toes.” His eyes darted to you, his wet muscle coming out to graze his bottom lip, your stomach flipping at the sight.

You only nodded your head though even though your stomach, mind, and vagina all said something different. Taehyung was completely your type but you knew deep down it wasn’t right to get involved with him because of his lifestyle but you’re highly considering throwing the lifestyle in the back of your head and hopping on his dick. The thought made you throb and by the way he’s staring at you, you could tell he sensed the sexual tension in the room.

“You know,” He sighed sitting up, his eyes roaming your body, “I didn’t expect you to be so tolerable.”

You chuckled, grabbing your bundle of files from your suitcase, “And why’s that?” You mused, the sound of the files hitting the bed making a thump.

You could hear a soft sigh, “Can you not worry about this case for one second?”

Before you could reply, the feeling of his body pressing against you caused your hand to shake. His body over towered you, the feeling of his hands lightly ghosting your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Stepping back, you glance up at him, his eyes already staring back at you, his breath lightly fanned your face. Your throat clamped up, the sight of him licking his lips once again making you want to grab him by his hair and pull him into a kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” He hummed, wrapping his hands around your elbows, bringing your body into his softly.

“Taehyun—“

“I know you feel it too,” He whispered, his fingers lightly rubbing the soft skin, “The sexual tension that’s filled the air between us. Yoongi can’t stand being around us,” He chuckled.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gently removing yourself from his grip, rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door shut before locking it.

Soft pants left your lips as your heart thrummed like it never has before. How dare he speak what you’re only thinking. You didn’t think any sexual tension filled the air but knowing that Yoongi didn’t switch just to escape you two made your cheeks flush. You and Taehyung have hardly had any time together, this case just now skyrocketed and now you find yourself stuck in London with a handsome ass man.

Sighing, you flush the toilet and act like you’re washing your hands. You quickly threw water on your burning face before leaving the bathroom, Taehyung nowhere in sight.

Letting out a breath of relief, you walk towards your bed to lay down until Taehyung and Yoongi barge in, Yoongi letting out a scowl at the sight of you.

“Mortdecai is ready to meet us,” Taehyung mumbled walking over to his suitcase, placing his gun on his hip before turning back around, his eyes soft as they look at you.

Nodding your head, you follow the boys out and sit in silence as you made your way to wherever Mortdecai was meeting. The streets of London made your mouth drop in awe. You wanted to stop and sightsee but you know that would only cause Yoongi to growl and Taehyung to scoff at your touristy attitude. The rude there was in complete silence. Taehyung seemed tense, his eyes frantically searching through the streets as they whizzed by. The girlfriend side of you wanted to hold his hand, rub the soft skin for comfort but the detective side of you wants you to mind your own damn business.

The car suddenly came to a halt, Taehyung’s hand nudging at your thigh gently before you finally opened the door. Before you were a tall marble building that had people floating in and out. Taehyung thanked the driver before slamming the door, his large body covering yours as he walked off, Yoongi’s following right behind.

“Where are we?” You quizzed, lightly jogging to catch up to the two who seemed too nervous to be seen in public.

“He wanted to meet us at this library,” Taehyung mumbled, holding the door open for you, the cool air sending shivers down your body.

Nodding your head, Taehyung quickly glanced around before a man with a black turtleneck and bald head walked up, “Kim Taehyung?” He grunted.

Taehyung nodded his head, “And you must be Jock,” He smiled.

The man quickly nodded his head before walking off, you three following quickly behind as he led you into a back room.

Another man was present, his back facing you as he brought a wine glass up to his lips. The room was filled with books and beautiful art pieces decorated the wall. There were so many beautiful things about London and honestly, you were willing to spend another day here just to explore.

Turning your focus back to the man, his lean figure finally turned around. You wanted to grimace at the sight: a dark brown mustache took home on his lip, his brown hair slicked back and his body decorated with a burgundy velvet suit. A sly smile was placed on his lips as he looked at Taehyung and Yoongi.

“Ah, the best dealer from Seoul,” He started, throwing his head back, the wine disappearing in a split second, “What brings you here to London?”

Before Taehyung could answer, Mortdecai’s eyes fell onto you, his lips pulling up into a smirk, “And who is this?” He continued.

Taehyung turned around, his fist clenching at his side, “This is my girlfriend, _____.”

You choked on your breath, your eyes wide as Taehyung sent you a tense smile before turning back to the man. Girlfriend? Why would he tell Mortdecai that you were his girlfriend? Also, his English was magnificent, you wouldn’t be able to tell that his first tongue was Korean. You wanted to speak up and tell him that you were, in fact, one of the top detectives in Seoul but Taehyung gave you no time to interject before he answered Mortdecai’s first question.

“There’s been a piece that has gone missing,”

“And what does that have to do with me?” He chuckled, pouring himself some more wine before finding him a seat.

Taehyung huffed, “There has been a murder in Seoul. This woman was cleaning this piece and someone stole the painting and slit the poor woman’s throat. Thankfully we have pictures of the missing piece,”

Taehyung turned his body towards you, your body flinching before handing the packet over. His fingers lightly grazed yours as he took them from you, a soft smile settling across his face as he turned around, handing the packet over to Mortdecai who quickly pulled the photos out.

“Ah,” He hummed, “The Grande Odalisque. This piece is magnificent and there is said to be only one in the world,” He quickly flicked through the rest of the photos before tossing them onto the table beside him, “So, what does the missing of this Odalisque have anything to do with me?” His head crooked to the side as he sent Taehyung a warm smile.

Digging in his coat, Taehyung pulled another photo from his pocket, “There’s a set of numbers written on the back of this piece. According to Kim Namjoon—“

“Ew,” He fake gagged, “What a horrible man. What’re you doing talking to him?”

Taehyung only laughed, “Anyways, Namjoon mentioned that this painting was created around the time of the Battle of Bayonne, said that the French lost and the painting missing.”

Mortdecai sighed, “Then there is more than one Odalisque in the world.”

“Which is why I am come to you,” Taehyung hummed, “I need you to look up these sets of numbers and see if these numbers link to an account of any sort.”

Standing up, Mortdecai took the picture from Taehyung, his eyes tracing over the set of numbers before motioning for you to follow. You all follow behind as he leads you through the various rows of books before coming to a separate part of the library, his fingers tracing the spines before landing on a huge, leathery book, his hand wrapping around the thick pile of paper before dropping it on the table, a soft cough leaving your lips as you swat away the dust.

Mumbling to himself, he quickly skims through the pages before landing on The Grande Odalisque, the page shaded brown as age catches up to it. You all swarm the book, Mortdecai silently reading to himself before mumbling an aha.

“According to this, the Odalisque was created in 1814 and as you mentioned, the French did lose the battle but the Odalisque was not ruined.” His finger continued skimming through, “Also, right here it mentions that the United Kingdom got ahold of the painting, replicating the masterpiece for the sake of hiding the secret account.” Shutting the book, your body slowly jumped as he sent a short smile to Taehyung, “Your friend, Namjoon, was wrong. There is another piece out there with the correct bank account.”

“Wait,” Taehyung yelped, “You mean to tell me that the numbers plastered across the one that is missing is not the correct bank account?”

“Mm, no,” He whizzed, placing the book back on the shelf, “Someone, somewhere placed that incorrect account on the back of the fake painting.”

“Then where is the other painting?”

Mortdecai sighed, “That I don’t know,” He mumbled, “But, I do have an idea.”

“How the hell is that going to work, Taehyung?”

Tossing your jacket on your suitcase, you fold your arms and glare at the man who only ran his fingers through his hair, shrugging his jacket off before looking back at you.

After you all found out some more details about the Odalisque, Mortdecai suggested that Taehyung lies to a famous art dealer over in America named Simmons. The idea was dumb and by the way, Taehyung has stayed silent, the plan is going to fall through. Mortdecai wants to sell the Grande Odalisque to Simmons, letting him know that himself, Taehyung would be there. The idea was crazy. Many wrongs could go down but Taehyung seems to trust this man, agreeing after Mortdecai assured him the plan would work because according to him, ‘Simmons is a dumb buyer who will buy anything from him’. You wanted to trust him, to know that this plan will work but it seems too risky and if things don’t go right, there is no telling what could go down. You have never been involved with the underground art world but from studying Taehyung’s files, many murders happened secretly that even the police didn’t know about.

“It’ll work, I promise.” His voice was soft, almost soothing you but you were still worried.

“How are you so sure? You don’t even know this Simmons guy but you’re willing to fly not only yourself but for me and Yoongi over to California to sell a painting that none of us have,” You continued. “How is that going to work, Taehyung? We don’t know where these paintings are but you’re going to sell a fucking painting?” You bring your fingers up, putting sell in quotations as Taehyung looked at you with a smirk.

“Listen,” He hummed, sitting on the corner of your bed, “This will work. Even though I hate saying this, I trust Mortdecai.”

“Then why hate saying it?” You urged, crossing your arms.

“I typically do my deals on my own but Mortdecai is someone I would do a risky sell with.”

You scoffed, pushing your hair back as you pondered the plan in your head. Taehyung was stupid. You were stupid. All three of you were stupid for even coming here to London. This painting was stupid, the woman was murdered and like the others, it sure didn’t seem to hurt to sweep those murders away so why not sweep this one away?

Fuck, you groaned, that’s not nice, you thought to yourself. You threw your head back in annoyance before trailing your eyes back to Taehyung who already had his eyes on you. A soft smile grew on his lips. Standing up, Taehyung made his way over to you, his hands gently coming out to lace around your elbows once more, sparks igniting across your body.

“How about we go out and explore, hm? I saw you staring with big, bright eyes at everything we passed.”

You were taken back. Taehyung was willing enough to take you out on the town, to spend one-on-one time with you. A smile drew on your face before you nodded. “Good,” He hummed, letting go of your elbows to put his jacket back on, “Let’s go.”

Shrugging your jacket back on, you follow Taehyung out. Your heart was fluttering. Relief filled your body because although you’ve had feelings for Taehyung since the day you met him, you haven’t had any time to truly know the man, to figure him out, to know why he does what he does. You had plenty of questions to ask him and tonight deemed itself to be the perfect night to do so. Although your detective-state-of-mind wanted to stay back to talk about action plans, this seemed to calm you and that is all you need before the true storm comes. The cold night air sent shivers down your spine, your body automatically trembling. Noticing this, Taehyung slips his arm around your shoulder, gently pulling you into his side, your cheeks flushing at the action. You both walked in quiet as the night lights preoccupied your mind anyways. The view was breathtakingly beautiful, almost as beautiful as Seoul at night. Although this is fun, you miss home. You miss Jimin, Hoseok, and even your strict boss Seokjin. “There is a really good restaurant down the street here,” Taehyung smiled down at you. Nodding your head, you followed Taehyung’s lead. For the rest of the walk, you two stay in complete silence. At the end of the street, there were fairy lights decorating the roof, plants dangling off the rails and the atmosphere soothing your nerves. “It’s beautiful,” You mumbled, mouth dropping in awe as you two waited for a table. The waitress took you two to the back corner, the lights dim which made the atmosphere more romantic. Taehyung was being a complete gentleman. Pushing you up to the table, draping your jacket across your chair and letting you choose whatever you wanted on the menu. Something about this made your heart flutter and all you wanted to do was smile so widely but you didn’t want to put your guard down too quickly. “How did you find this place?” You mused, swirling the wine around in the glass. “I found this place when I made my first art sell here.” “How long have you been doing this? The whole underground art world?” He chuckled, “So that’s what you all call it? Underground…” A boxy smile shined back at you, your heart melting at the sight, “I’ve been doing this since I was twenty.” “Wow,” You gaped, “and you’re already such a well-known art dealer.” “For someone who works for the government, you seem pretty proud of how far I’ve come.” He raised an eyebrow at you, heat pooling in your underwear. “There’s a lot of things that I find myself fond of about you.” You admit shyly. He cocked an eyebrow, “And what’s that?” You coughed, “Well…you love what you do, you are very hardworking, you let nothing get in your way and you’re very smart…” You glance up, sending him a shy smile before dropping your guard completely, “and you’re very handsome, someone that I wouldn’t mind looking at all the time.”

A low growl emitted from his chest, “Is that so?” His deep timber voice traveled.

You slowly nodded your head, ready to respond but the sight of the food being placed down threw you completely off guard. Whatever you had to say could be said later but the way Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you seemed that he didn’t care for the food, only you. Ignoring the stare, you place some food in your mouth, a low moan slipping from your throat at the delightful taste that this food brought. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Taehyung tense up, his knuckles going white as they gripped the poor metal fork.

Dinner went by tensely. You could feel the sexual tension in the air as you both ate, walked home, and now as you both stand a couple of inches apart in the elevator. You didn’t know if anything was going to happen because quite frankly, the way his jaw clenched every time you moved or when you muttered a simple word of praise at the food, his jaw would clench and his eyes steady on you. Even though you hate to admit it, your thighs had been clenched the whole dinner, heat pooling in your panties as you noticed the intense stares and the way his jawline clenched and unclenched; it was hot of course but you were too busy on the food.

As the elevator finally reached your floor, the sexual tension -even though you couldn’t see how- rose even more as you both walked down the hallway. As you approached your door, the sound of moans quietly fills the area around you. Grunting, Taehyung glances over at Yoongi’s room, a scoff escaping his lips as he presses his ear up to the door.

“For fuck’s sake,” He mumbled shaking his head as if this action would get rid of the sinful sounds he heard.

Giggling at this, Taehyung sends you a smirk before opening the door for you, the cool air hitting your body, tingles coating your body as the air cooled you down. This was the moment to see if anything would happen between you two. Part of you wanted everything to happen but the other part keeps telling you that this is a work event, you’re on duty and you shouldn’t be spreading your legs for a man whose file is thicker than his own arm.

Sighing, you shrug your jacket off before kicking off your heels, another -and even though you didn’t mean to- moan fell from your lips, the feeling of the flat floor making your quietly shiver at the comfort. Before long, you hear a soft sigh sounding behind you, the sound of Taehyung’s bare feet padding against the floor as he found himself laid upon your bed, his eyes wandering over your body. You felt your body flush once more, the cool air not helping anymore. Turning your body towards his, you raise your arms, a cocked eyebrow placed amidst your face as he sent back a sinful smirk.

“What is it, _____?” He mused, your name sounds so sinful coming from his lips.

“Nothing,” You whispered rubbing your arms trying to create any friction.

He chuckled, pushing himself off your bed before standing himself in front of you, his bangs hanging over his eyes as he stared at you, his eyes roaming your face, looking for any sign; the sign that he wants.

“You looked so gorgeous tonight,” He began, his hands finding their way to your elbow, his thumb rubbing the soft skin, “but, you didn’t seem to think of what you were doing.” He hummed.

You gulped, “And what was I doing?” Your eyes finally found his.

He smirked, “You know what you were doing, moaning every time that god damn food touched your pretty little mouth.” His grip on your elbow tightened and unfortunately, your panties began sticking to you and it was becoming uncomfortable.

Before you could even process what he said, he smashed his lips on yours, his lips soft against your own. You sighed, the feeling you have been waiting for is now happening and the butterflies in your stomach were erupting. Taehyung’s grip loosened, his hands falling to your hips, pulling your body flush against his, your hands finding home on his neck. Pulling back, Taehyung’s breath fanned in your face before he went back in but this time his tongue was begging for an entrance, the soft muscle skimming your bottom lip as you easily parted your mouth, his tongue finding yours immediately. Both your tongues pressed against each other, your teeth clashing as you both craved each other's touch.

Taehyung turned you around, your knees hitting the back of the bed as he pushed you down gently, your hair fanning out. He groaned, the sight of you making him feel some type of way. He wanted to take his time with you, to appreciate your body but he has had this pent up attraction towards you and truly, all he wanted to do was fuck that pretty little smirk off your face.

“Scoot up,” He demanded, his hands finding their way to his belt. Obeying immediately, you find yourself perched up on the pillows as he watched your every move. You never truly got to soak in what Taehyung looked like. He was handsome no doubt but he expanse of his shoulders, the way his button-up was threatening to pop at any second, the way his dark chocolate brown hair hung beautifully across his forehead; he was lethal and all you could do was fall more in love with the art piece. Ironically, he sold and dealt with art but he was the art to you.

Crawling up to you, Taehyung pressed his lips against yours once more but this time more gently as if he was savoring the moment; however, this didn’t last too long. His thick fingers began sliding up your thigh, the touch causing goosebumps to rise on demand. Soft moans left your lips as his tongue pressed further into your mouth and the feeling of his calloused fingers squeezing, pinching, and skimming the soft flesh already made your mind swirl.

“What do you want?” He breathed, a string of saliva following his lips as they part from yours.

You breathed slowly, “Would I seem desperate if I said you?” You cocked an eyebrow, causing him to chuckle at your answer.

“Well, then I would be desperate as well because I want you,” His eyes flicked up to yours, his tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip, a glint of satisfaction at your reaction present in his eyes.

All you could do was bite your lip and shyly nod. Relieved at this answer, Taehyung’s hands found their way to the back of your dress, pulling the zipper down slowly as he mouthed at your neck, gently sucking, nibbling and licking at the soft skin. Your hands found perched in his hair, gently tugging at the soft locks, causing a growl to emit from his lips, the sound vibrating off your skin. Pulling back from your neck, Taehyung grabs at your straps, tugging the fabric down until all you are left in is your bra and underwear, his gaze falling immediately upon your body. Your first instinct was to cover up but he quickly pinned your arms down, his breath increasing as he grew more impatient to make love to your body, to fuck your brains out.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” He groaned, his fingers slowly trailing down your body, your chest heaving up and down.

You felt yourself blush at his comment. His fingers came to a halt at the hem of your underwear, your heat throbbing at the thought of him being so close to where you truly want him the most. Slightly bucking your hips,

Taehyung smirked, a huff of air passed his lips, a tsk following soon after.

“So needy,” He mumbled, his fingers hooking around the band, slowly tracing the fabric as his knuckles glided across your smooth skin. This only made your hips buck more, the small act making your body go wild.

Chuckling, Taehyung finally lifted his fingers from your band and brought his hands up to your breast, grabbing a handful and squeezing at the mounds. You arched your back, your breasts always being a sensitive area for you. Taehyung’s face lit up, his mind going crazy with the thought of you being so sensitive, so easily flared up at the simple touch of his fingers. He wouldn’t tell you but this was driving him crazy and if he was honest, he could combust at any moment.

“T-Tae,” You whispered, throwing your head back, your neck bare to him, his tongue skimming his bottom lip at the sight.

“What is it, baby?” He cooed, your body reacting to the nickname causing Taehyung to smirk, “Like that? Like when I call you baby? What if I called you slut?”

And just like that, a moan escaped your lips and your core throbbed. You didn’t think you would be into degrading names but here you were, losing your shit over being called a slut.

Reaching behind your back, Taehyung quickly unsnapped your bra, throwing the fabric behind his back. A soft sigh escaped his lips, his mouth finding home on your left breast. His hand came up to your right breast, squeezing, pinching at your nipple as his mouth completely ravished your other nipple, sucking, biting, and swirling his soft muscle around. You couldn’t help the tumble of moans that left your lips as he devoured your breasts. Sliding your fingers through his hair, you glance down and notice the faint markings slowly showing up as he pulled back, your boob leaving his mouth with a pop. Glancing up at you, Taehyung sent you a smirk before he began mouthing between your breasts, swirling his tongue around the soft skin and made his way down to the hem of your underwear.

Wrapping his fingers around the band, he slowly pulls the fabric down, a string of your arousal following the soaked garment, a growl falling from Taehyung’s lips as the sight. Once he completely rids you, you clamp your thighs shut, embarrassment coursing through your body. Glaring at you, Taehyung wraps his hands around your knees, pulling your legs open, cool air heating your core sending goosebumps across your body.

“Fuck,” He whined, “You’re so fucking beautiful and so wet,”

A soft whine passed your lips at the compliment and your ears burned at the sinful comment. Leaning back up, Taehyung rids himself of his shirt, his tan -and built- body coming into view, your mouth automatically drooling at the sight. You quickly wiped at your mouth before he could notice but the small chuckle that passed his lips signified that he already saw and your dignity was already out the door.

“Want me to eat you out?” He questioned, his hands gently rubbing your thigh.

All you could do was nod and with a soft kiss to the top of your knee, Taehyung has your legs pulled apart and his face inches away from your drenched hole. You felt his breath fan you, your hole clenching around nothing, the sight making Taehyung grind his hips against the bed.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already clenching around nothing,” He mused, his finger slowly tracing circles on the inner part of your thigh.

“Taehyung,” You moaned, your fingers finding their way to his hair once again, “please hurry,” You begged, gently tugging at the strands.

“Hurry for what?” He quizzed, arching his eyebrow at you.

Before you could answer, Taehyung placed a gentle kiss to the top of your pussy, your head falling back onto the pillow. You felt him chuckle against you as he placed more gentle kisses and soon enough, his lips began sucking on the skin, hickies most likely decorating the area in the morning.

“T-Tongue,” You finally got out, your hips bucking at one particular suck before he pulled back, his chin shining with your arousal.

He laughed, “Look, I haven’t even got to taste you yet and your already covering my chin. How fucking nasty,” He cooed wiping the stringy mess on your thigh. Clenching at the sight, Taehyung brought his index and middle finger up, spreading your lips apart as he awed at the sight.

“P-Please,” You begged, bucking your hips up at his face

“Are you sure about that?” He smirked, his hand coming down in a loud smack against your pussy, loving the way your hole clenched at the action, “I could fuck you right now you’re so goddamn wet. Would you like that?” He hummed, “Me ramming into you right now without prepping you? Stretching you out completely?” His finger grazed past your hole, bringing the slender digit up, your arousal dangling off the end, his tongue coming up to clean up the mess.

A moan passed your lips, the sight almost making your orgasm alone. Of course, you wouldn’t mind Taehyung fucking you right now but you also wanted to feel that devilish tongue inside you, those long, thick digits ramming inside you as well.

“No,” You whined, “I want to feel your tongue,” You cried out, trying with all your might to push his head down south.

Growling at your actions, Taehyung’s tongue licked straight up, your head jerking back. A soft pitched scream passed your lips as he continued to lick wide strips up to your needy hole. Moaning at the taste of you, Taehyung brought his fingers up, bringing his middle finger up to his mouth, sucking the digit before pressing it in you slowly, your pussy squelching at the action.

You couldn’t get yourself to look down, to look at the mess he is making you. You have only been with a couple of men in your life but for some reason, for some unknown reason, this man that you willingly met, his a finger deep inside of you, making your body shiver at the simple move. Your breath came out in pants as he squeezed another finger in, a soft grunt passing his lips at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers.

“God you’re so fucking tight,” He moaned, his fingers moving in a come here motion.

As soon as he began, your back bounced off the bed, his finger pressing on your sensitive spot. A small aha left his lips as your body slowly shivered at the feeling.

Pulling his fingers back, Taehyung inserted another finger, a wince leaving your lips at the stretch but pleasure soon filled your body as he began ramming his fingers in and out. Without fail, Taehyung hit your spot every time, squelching noises filling the room as your slick fell from your core, the bedsheets surely getting soaked.

“You take my fingers so well, babygirl,” He hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your clit before wrapping his fingers around the nub.

You truly thought you could orgasm without him messing with the little sensitive nub but soon enough you were arching your back and panting. A burning coil began feeling your stomach, your thighs slowly beginning to shake and all you could do was whine. Noticing this, Taehyung’s fingers only gained more speed and his knuckles bruised your skin as they continuously rammed against you. Your clit began throbbing with pleasure, his tongue swirling around the nib.

“I’m close,” You finally cry out, your grip around his hair tightening as his fingers thrust harder and his teeth nibble at your clit.

With a couple of more thrust and one more hard suck to your clit, you see stars. A scream passed your lips as your clamped your thighs shut around his head, his lips still attached to your clit and his fingers still thrumming in and out of you. His body moved with your hips as you moved them from side to side, hoping that the movement would calm down your orgasm. Removing his fingers from your sopping core, his tongue began lapping up your juices, the obscene sound making you whimper. With a few harsh licks, you gently nudge his head away, his chin, lips, and nose covered with your sweet nectar.

“Mm,” He groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “You taste so fucking good, babygirl,”

You dropped your legs on the bed, your chest heaving as you slowly came down from your high. Taehyung left gentle kisses against your thighs but soon enough, you found yourself rolling onto your knees, reaching out for his belt but his hands quickly caught yours, pushing you back.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I don’t think I have the patience to receive a blowjob from you,” He hummed standing up from the bed, jerking his pants and underwear down, his length smacking against his stomach.

You found yourself drooling once more but didn’t care to wipe since your dignity left a long time ago. This man was blessed. His tip was a deep shade of red, the poor thing pumping out precum. You awed at the sight of him but he quickly bent over, grabbing a condom from his wallet.

“Like what you see?” He smirked, wrapping his fist around his length, wincing as he got closer to the raging head. His fingers slightly shook as he rolled the condom on, his dick screaming to be set free but you were both in the right mind to know that this was the right way.

He crawled back up to the top of the bed, pressing his lips against yours once more, your juices still tainting his tongue causing you to moan at the taste. His hips ground against your core, his tip snagging at your hole at every thrust causing you to moan into the kiss. His hand slowly ran down your body, squeezing at certain parts of your skin before he gripped his dick, rubbing the tip against your clit, your moan rolling into his mouth. Sighing, you bite down on his bottom lip, pulling the thick skin back before letting go, sending a smirk to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He hummed, sending you a soft smile.

You awed at the comment but your smile faded away once he nudged his length in, your hips thrusting up at the feeling. Glancing up, your eyes landed on him; lust-filled eyes looked back at you. His cheeks were rosy, his breath fanning his face and his mouth hung open as he slowly skimmed his tongue against his bottom lip. If someone were to look at him, they would think he had already been balls deep into someone but all he did was eat you out and he already looks like this. You wanted to remember this forever, remember that fucked out look because all you ever see is his murderous look, no emotions, and this right here, this made your heart flutter.

“Are you ready?” He whispered, gliding his tip up and down your cunt.

“Yes,” You whispered back, pulling him down by the nape of his neck to pull him into a kiss.

Your lips softly moved together as he pressed his head in, your lips freezing at the stretch. Cooing, Taehyung placed gentle kisses across your face, trying his best to rid your face of pain. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you tap his hip gently. Sighing, Taehyung slowly pushes himself the rest of the way in, his dick throbbing at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. It took everything in him not to bust because fuck if he wasn’t man enough he would have but he wasn’t going to show you just how much you affected him already.

He stayed there, his dick filling you up, your pussy clenching around him and all he could do was pant and wait for your go. After another minute of waiting, you finally tapped his hip, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Pushing himself back on his feet, he pulls his dick out, his tip settling against your entrance before slamming himself back in, a yelp leaving your lips. Smirking, Taehyung smacked your clit harshly the action making your hips buck up.

“I’ve been sweet,” He began, pulling his hips back once more before ramming them back in, “but now I’m going to fuck you.”

Bringing his tip back to your entrance he threw himself over you, his hands catching him as his body caged you before he rammed his hips against yours again but continued thrusting. The sound of his hips smacking yours filled the room, the squelching sound is just as loud. He panted, his breath fanning your face as he furiously pounded your pussy, his tip grazing your cervix. You couldn’t breathe, your mouth hung open as you threw your head to the side, your fingers raking down his back but he was quick to grip your face, forcing you to look at him as he fucked your relentlessly. Leaning back up, Taehyung grabbed your thigh, lifting the limb over his shoulder, this angle causing his dick to hit your spot over and over again. All you could do was silently scream and soon enough, his hand found their way around your neck, gently squeezing your throat as he snapped his hips into you, your body jerking up.

“Hm, it seems like you like being choked,” He chuckled, squeezing your neck more until you’re clawing at his hand.

Pulling back, Taehyung brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing quick curt circles around the nub causing your back to arch up as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves. You felt the slow-burning coil erupt in your stomach and all you could do was whine. You’ve never been able to cum once during sex but you’re fixing to cum twice and you feel like you’re in heaven; however, this soon stops as he pulls out, your hole clenching around nothing, your eyes shooting open and glaring at the man who only sent you a smirk before wrapping his hands around your waist and flipping you over.

“Fuck,” He moaned, his hand immediately smacking the soft flesh, rubbing the sensitive spot as you arched your back to the pain.

His left hand came down with a loud smack and then his right and all you could do was a whimper. He did this a few more times before he humped into you, his body leaning into yours. A soft moan left your lips at the feeling of his dick resting between your lips. Wrapping his hand around your neck, Taehyung pushed you into the ass-down-face-up position and you immediately wiggled your ass, hoping this would get him to push back into you and lucky for you, the feeling of being stretched once again overcome your body.

“How’re you still so tight?” He grunted, thrusting his hips into you.

Snapping his hips against yours, Taehyung set a brutal pace once more, your face pressed against the pillow and his hands gripped your hips. This new angle allowed Taehyung to hit your spot harder and your body fell into euphoria. Reaching around, Taehyung’s fingers found your abused clit once more and drew quick circles around the nub and you felt that burning coil swelling up once more.

“I-I’m close,” You moaned, grabbing onto anything that your hands could grip on.

With a grunted same, Taehyung’s hips snapped into your harder. With a few more thrusts, your orgasm washed over you, black spots filling your vision and your body falling limp but Taehyung was quick to catch you. The feeling of your walls clenching around him made his hips stutter and with a few more clumsy thrusts, Taehyung pressed his dick into you, his dick spurting as he panted, his body hanging over yours, his breath fanning against your back. Riding out his high, Taehyung leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders until he fell limp. His body collapsed beside yours, his eyes shut as he tried catching his breath and all you could do was stare at him and that fluttery feeling came back.

Your hands mindlessly found their way to his cheek, your thigh rubbing the smooth skin as his breathing came back to normal. His hand slowly came up to wrap his fingers around your palm, his eyes fluttering open, landing on you. A soft smile fell on your face and one was returned.

“You were amazing,” You hummed,

He chuckled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss before pushing himself off the bed, removing the condom from his flaccid penis, chunking the used condom away into the bin before heading to the bathroom. Sitting up, you cross your legs before running a finger through your messy hair.

“Lay back,” Glancing up, Taehyung had a washcloth dangling in his hands.

You found yourself falling back, the feeling of the cold washcloth heaven against your scorching skin. Humming, Taehyung tosses the washcloth back into the bathroom, slipping his underwear back on before grabbing a clean pair from your suitcase, sliding them on your legs, placing a soft kiss to your thighs.

“You’re being so nice,” You mumbled rolling over, snuggling into your pillow.

He laughed, “Here,” Opening one eye, you notice a black shirt dangling from his fingers.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “That’s yours.”

“Wear it,” He whispered, urging the shirt into your possession which you accepted, slipping the loose garment on, the smell of him filling your nose.

A soft smile found its way on his face at the sight of you cuddled under your blankets with his shirt draped over your figure.

“Sleep with me,” You mumbled reaching for his fingers.

His heart thrummed at the comment. He’s never got himself too involved with someone, his work being too important to him to even make time for a significant other; but with you, everything seemed right and he couldn’t figure out why. Sighing, Taehyung threw back your covers and cuddled in beside you, your legs immediately intertwining with his.

“Good night,” You whispered drifting off to sleep.

“Good night,” Taehyung smiled, placing a soft kiss against your head before drifting off to sleep with you cuddled in his arms.

The morning after was sweet, something you didn’t expect. Taehyung woke you up sweetly, leaving soft kisses against your cheek. You still couldn’t believe what happened the night before but you still thought about the romantic night, your cheeks blushing at everything that passed through your brain. If your night spent together wasn’t any obvious, Yoongi was quick to make jokes, saying how you both had a glow that you two didn’t have that morning. Of course, you got two quick punches on him but Taehyung agreed, placing a soft kiss on your head which caused your cheeks to flare up.

And to your surprise, Taehyung continuously held your hand. He held it in front of Mortdecai, held it on the plane, and now he is holding it as you all make your way to Simmons house. You didn’t know how to feel. Even when this mission started, there was always sexual tension between you and Taehyung. The simple little touches set your heart on fire, the sneaked looks, the casual glances up and down, they all made your heart feel some way. Truth be told, at first, you didn’t want anything to do with him, to just use him to solve this case and let him off with multiple of murders and more but, for some odd reason, your heart found comfort, happiness, and overall, love.

The thing is, you wouldn’t tell him that you loved him. The timing wasn’t right, this may be first love kind of jitters, but you knew good and well not to mention this. The timing wasn’t right and there is a big possibility that once you get back to Seoul and complete this case, Taehyung would disappear, continuing his work and leaving you to ponder if you were just a simple hook-up. But the way he made you feel last night, you couldn’t even put it into words. No one has made you feel like this and he did in one night, hardly knowing anything about you but finding the simple detective girl interesting; however, Taehyung wouldn’t let you know this.

He couldn’t quite put his fingers on it, why you were filling his mind and why he found himself falling in love with the law when he was quite literally running away from it. He thought you were a silly girl at first, barking up the wrong tree when you came to him for help but in reality, you were fiery, quick to find a solution and this made his interest grow. You were beautiful and for some reason, even though he’s only known you for a short amount of time, he finds himself falling for you.

The flight to America was quick and the whole time you and Taehyung told little things about each other, trying anything to pass the time. Mortdecai booked you all a hotel and to your liking, you and Taehyung ended up in another room together. However, one thing that you found weird was that Mortdecai had Yoongi fly the car out with them but, since you didn’t want Taehyung to get frustrated again, you kept the bundle of questions to yourself, minding your business.

“Okay,” Taehyung mumbled, tossing his luggage on the ground, “You will stay here until I come back and get you for the reveal party tonight, okay?” He raised an eyebrow at you, rolling his sleeves up.

“Why can’t I go with you?” You mumble, pouting at him.

Chuckling, Taehyung pushed himself off the table and walked over to you, grabbing your chin gently before placing his lips onto yours. His lips were so soft and every time you kissed, all you could think about was last night, making your core throb.

“Wouldn’t it be boring hearing men discuss art? Art that you don’t find any interest in?” His thumb gently rubbed your cheek, the small act soothing you.

“Yes,” You hummed, placing your hand on top of his, “but wouldn’t it be much easier if I was already at the mansion with you?”

Pinching your cheek gently, Taehyung walked over to his suit for the night. Zipping the bag open, a cool royal blue gown was hanging before his suit, your mouth gaping at the material.

“Fine,” He mumbled, his fingers rubbing the silky fabric, “I had my designer make this dress for you last minute. I hope you like it,”

You immediately grabbed the fabric, the silky garment feeling so nice between the pads of your fingers. It was gorgeous. Beautiful rhinestones decorated the top and scattered down the sleeves.

“Of course,” You smiled sweetly.

Wrapping his arm around your waist, Taehyung started leaning down but the sound of a knock ringing throughout the room caused him to huff and a small giggle to pass your lips.

“What?” Taehyung grunted.

“It’s time to go,” Yoongi’s deep voice echoed.

Sighing, Taehyung zipped up the bag, slinging the garments over his shoulder and gestured you out the door as you grabbed your makeup bag. You were welcomed with a gummy grin from Yoongi who had a bag slung over his shoulder as well and Mortdecai who had his hitman carrying both their suits.

“Ah, so she’s coming?” Mortdecai chimed, sending you a smile.

Giving a quick nod, you all followed Mortdecai down to the lobby, Yoongi hanging both garment bags in the car neatly before following Mortdecai to Simmons mansion. The car ride was filled with conversation of tactics, what Yoongi should do, how Yoongi and Mortdecai should sneak in but the plans were going in one ear and out the other as you watched the city fly by. You were never interested in going to the States. You found comfort in Seoul and never planned on leaving but you were thankful for all these travels.

What you were most intrigued with was the beautiful mansion that you finally pulled up to. It looked like it came from a movie, your mouth was dropped completely open but the sound of Yoongi coughing brought you out your daze. Bringing the car to a stop, you all exited the car, the warm sun beating down on you and you immediately regret wearing an all-black outfit.

“Ah,” Glancing up, you see a tall middle-aged man walking up, his teeth brighter than the sun itself, “if it isn’t Kim Taehyung and Charlie Mortdecai.”

He brought his hand up to Taehyung who accepted it gingerly, giving the man a curt smile who quickly threw himself into Mortdecai’s arms, a loud laugh booming from his mouth. You found yourself scooting closer to Yoongi, his body radiating comfort to you.

“So, lets cut to the chase, can I look at the painting?”

“Yes, you see—“

Before Charlie could answer, Simmons jerked open Yoongi’s door, shoving his body in there and brought a knife up to the ceiling.

“Wait!” Taehyung yelled.

Ignoring his comment, Simmons cut the fabric up and a rolled-up painting fell, everyone’s mouth wide open. Tucking the painting under his arms, Simmons shot everyone a bright smile, shutting the door behind him as he yelled a follow me. Taehyung glanced back at you and Yoongi, his jaw clenching.

“I guess we did have the fucking painting after all,” He mumbled to Yoongi.

The interior of the mansion was nothing compared to the exterior. His home was decorated in marble, his walls filled with paintings and what made the moment cute was how Taehyung would slow down to catch a glance at a piece, his tongue skimming over his lip if he found one more interesting than the other. Once this case was done, you were sure that your knowledge of paintings would be far more vast than it once was.

As you slowly filed in behind the rest of the group, Simmons already had the painting rolled out on the table and to your completely utter shock, the Grande Odalisque was laid out on the table in all its glory. Your mouth fell in awe, the painting just as beautiful but your throat clenched at the thought of poor Miss Choi.

“Sorry to be rude,” Simmons beamed, his body leaning against the table,

“I didn’t get to catch her name,”

All eyes fell on you, your cheeks flushing at all the attention but you quickly fixed your posture, “Hi,” You smiled back, “I’m De—“

“This is my girlfriend,” Taehyung cut you off, his grip around your wrist tightening, “I thought I’d bring her to the reveal party.”

You glared up at him but sent Simmons a curt smile, “Hi, I’m Don Simmons…”

“_____,” You answer.

“Ah, ____. Beautiful name and a beautiful girl, Taehyung, good job.”

His attention went back to the painting but the feeling of your phone vibrating allowed you to excuse yourself, Jimin’s name flashing across the screen.

“Ah,” You moaned in happiness, “Jimine,” You cooed, “How are you?”

“I’m good but guess what I found out while you were gone!!” Excitement laced in his voice.

“What is it?” You mumbled, glancing back into the room to see all men bending over the table studying the painting.

“You remember that note that Taehyung found? The ‘love your bug’ note?”

“Mm,”

“I figured out who bug was,”

“And who is it?” You whispered,

“It was her lover. An older gentleman by the name Kim Myung-Dae. He was an underground dealer like Taehyung and he normally sent his paintings over to Miss Choi to clean and low and behold he has the original Grande Odalisque, the one with the secret code on the back.”

Your mouth dropped. Your heart began racing and all you wanted to do was drag Taehyung up the stairs but you had to keep your composure or the plan tonight wouldn’t work.

“Are you sure its the right one?” You scooted a bit further from the room, “The man we’re seeing now has the Grande Odalisque displayed across his table right now,”

“Yes, I’m sure, ____. When you come back to Seoul, have Taehyung come to the office and check to make sure because I know there is an art auction the week you come back.”

Taehyung doesn’t know but you have been relaying the plans back to Jimin. You felt more comfortable knowing that if anything was to screw up, Jimin would have a backup plan ready for you at any second.

“I’ll talk to Taehyung tonight but I’ve got to go, Jimin, good work!”

“Talk to you later,”

Ending the call, you made your way back to the room just in time. Simmons was rolling up the painting, tucking the replica under his arm. Wrapping your hand around Taehyung’s wrist, you tug gently, catching his attention.

“I need to speak with you and Yoongi alone,” You whispered.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Taehyung sent you a quick nod, asking Don where your rooms were. Giving Taehyung a bright smile, Don had one of his butlers lead you three up the stairs, another followed behind with your wardrobe for tonight and your makeup bag dangling from his pinkie. Your mind was racing with the information Jimin gave you. If he was right, the painting that Simmons took was the replica and the real Grande Odalisque was safe in Seoul with Kim Myung-Dae or at least you hoped so.

“Why are you pale as hell?” Yoongi chuckled, crossing his arms as Taehyung locked the door.

You shot a glare at him, “Because I found out the information I wasn’t ready for, dumbass.”

Taehyung chuckled, “What information did you find out?”

You gently rubbed your temples and recited what Jimin told you. Taehyung’s eyebrows were furrowed and so were Yoongi’s. Hell, you would be shocked as hell and confused if you just find this out as well which you were but at this point you were confused.

“So they didn’t have children?”

“Seriously,” You groaned, “That’s all you got from what I just told you?” You rolled your eyes at Taehyung who only shrugged his shoulders.

“Anyways,” Yoongi grumbled, “The painting that Don has is the replica of the real Grande Odalisque?”

“That’s what we’re hoping.” You mumble.

“Either way we’re going back to Seoul with that painting,” Taehyung grumbled, rubbing his temples at the information that was just given.

“I want to know why you think it’s going to be so easy confiscating that painting,”

Taehyung sighed, “It won’t be easy but we have the plan set out for tonight,”

“And what’s that?”

“Yoongi, Jock, and Mortdecai will sneak in and take the painting while you and I are down at the party showing our face and keep what they’re doing secret.”

“Is it safe with all of us separated like that?”

“No,” Yoongi mumbled, “but tonight is our only option to get that painting back into our hands.”

“I don’t understand why in the hell we stepped foot into America. That painting was dangling above your heads and you had no idea,”

“I didn’t know that Jungkook hid the piece in my car!” Taehyung defended.

“This whole trip was a waste of my fucking time,” You mumbled. You wanted to pull your hair out. You don’t know how you all sat so dumb like in that car with the fucking Odalisque hanging above your heads. This whole trip was stupid and honestly, you didn’t have it in you to attend this party but since Taehyung introduced you as his girlfriend, you had no excuse to not go.

“I wanna know how Jungkook got ahold of that piece,” Taehyung mumbled, his gaze falling onto Yoongi who could only shake his head.

“I wanna know who killed poor Miss Choi over this painting,” You whispered mainly to yourself.

This question still lingered over your head. This whole trip surrounded the painting but you couldn’t get too upset, this painting was a key to her murder. There must be a shitload of money in this account for someone to kill an innocent woman and if Kim Myung-Dae had enough trust in her with that painting then he wasn’t expecting anyone to be snooping around for that particular piece.

You kept to yourself, minding your business as Taehyung discussed the plan once again with the crew. They all left you in the dark as you put on your makeup besides the part where you would be tucked underneath Taehyung’s arm with an earpiece stuck in your ear. You weren’t mad at any of them but you were merely dumbfounded. You never understood why Mortdecai sold this piece to this foreigner and you never understood why Taehyung trusted him but he’s putting all his trust into this man, allowing his own hitman to sneak in and steal this fake painting back.

None of this made sense and for some reason, you had a bad feeling about this. Ever since you joined the detective field, anytime you had a shooting going down or someone gets murdered, you always itched behind your left ear and right now, your ear is burning. All you could hope is that everyone was safe… including Taehyung.

The soft feeling of hands laying across your shoulder brought you from your thoughts. Your eyes trailed up the figure through the mirror, landing on Taehyung who only stared back, a soft smile settling on his face.

“You look beautiful,” He mumbled leaning down and placing a sweet chaste kiss to your cheek.

You only smiled back, pushing yourself off the seat and lacing your feet in your heels. Wrapping your arm around Taehyung’s, you both head out the room, music filling the hallways. Everyone else done made their way down, checking the area. On the outside you were stone-cold, smiling at people who sent you one but on the inside, your heart was thumping faster than it should. You should be used to this you tell yourself over and over as Taehyung weaved you through the crowd.

“Coast is clear,” Yoongi grumbled, your body jumping at the sudden sound.

“Alright,” Taehyung answered back, his eyes falling on you as if he was speaking directly to you.

Your eyes skimmed the crowd but they immediately fall upon a man whose eyes were already laying on you. Cocking your head to the side, you raise an eyebrow at him, the man sending you a curt smile before walking away. You felt yourself tighten your grip around Taehyung’s arm, his head jerking down looking at you.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

Before you could answer, a couple walked up to Taehyung, their smiles bright as they stared at your date.

“Well if it isn’t Kim Taehyung,” The male mused, his tongue poking his cheek, “I haven’t seen you since your last shitty sale,”

Taehyung smirked, “How’re you, Mr. Rossi?”

The two bickered back and forth. You quickly tuned them out but as you glanced around the party once more, your eyes laid upon that same man again who was still staring back at you. Tightening your grasp once again, you tug Taehyung’s arm. Saying his goodbye’s Taehyung glanced down at you but the feeling of his body tensing, you had no need to tell him.

“Oh fuck,” He mumbled, “Yoongi, that man is here, he’s at the party.”

Taehyung hissed, removing his arm from yours before wrapping it around your waist.

“Who is he?” You asked, glancing back at the man who only followed you both.

At this point, he wasn’t trying to be discrete. He was following your every step, your heart racing. Leading you around the back, Taehyung pushes you both into a corner, the man quickly walking past you two.

“Who is that?” You hissed, your chest heaving.

“That was the fucker I told you about,” He whispered back.

“We’re in.”

The brisk moment of you and Taehyung huddling in the corner away from that mysterious man ended as the sound of Yoongi yelling in your ear caught you off guard. Taehyung’s hand grasped your arm as he jerked you, shoving the large glass door open as he tugged you in the mansion. His breath was ragged, his eyes frantic as they searched around, landing on the spiral staircase that took you up to the room you were once getting ready in. Mumbling a come on, Taehyung jerked you up the stairs, the sound of yelling filling your ears as you near the top.

“Yoongi!” Taehyung yelled, his voice echoing down the hallway.

A loud thud echoed down the hall, Taehyung’s head jerked towards the noise, his feet immediately walking and your arm let loose from his grip. You should be nervous but the way Taehyung’s hand gripped around his gun, bringing the cool metal up to balance in his other hand made heat pool and sadly, you should be ashamed but you’re not.

You followed his figure in a room, Mortdecai, Yoongi, and Jock all stood around a desk and the mysterious man stood on the other side, a gun steady in his hands as he pointed it back. Glancing over, you noticed Don slumped over his desk, blood dripping from his fingers and the Odalisque settled underneath his head. Turning your attention back over to the man, Taehyung’s finger twitched, the pad resting against the trigger.

“Who are you?” Taehyung seethed, stepping closer.

The man chuckled, “Why does it matter to you? All I want is the painting, so please, give me the painting.”

“Tell me your name,” His deep voice echoed throughout the room, your body tensing at the sound.

“Ademar Boucher,” He finally answered, “Now give me the painting,”

“Why would I give you the painting, hm?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, taking another step closer to the man, “You killed an innocent boy -my car guy for a matter-of-fact- you tried killing me and my man over here, and now you are stalking not only me but my date,” His grip around the gun fixed, his knuckles white at the amount of pressure, “Now tell me, why should I give you the painting?”

The man charged forward but Taehyung was quick to shoot, his bullet grazing into the man's arm. Your mouth dropped but you quickly jerked on

Taehyung’s arm, his face scowling at you.

“We need him alive,” You yelled, “He’s a possible suspect!”

Before Taehyung could answer back, the man had stood up and escaped, his body jumping over the ledge and the painting still settled under the late Don’s head. Taehyung shrugged your grip off, his shoulders rolling back as he walked over, shoving Don’s head off the painting before rolling it up quickly.

“We need to get out here,” He mumbled, “People will start to notice,”

Bumping his shoulder on yours, Taehyung exited the room, the rest of the men filing behind him. Rolling your eyes, you walked over to where Ademar escaped, the wind slowly pushing your hair as you saw him running off in the distance, his head jerking back to make sure any of you were chasing after him. Taehyung wouldn’t understand. He had a killers' state of mind when it came to this stuff but if Jimin’s accusations were correct, Ademar is a suspect. Not only for Miss Choi’s sake but for the sake of Taehyung’s car guy — Jeon Jungkook.

Walking back into the hallway, Taehyung had your bag in his hand, the Odalisque under his arm and both your outfits dangling over his shoulder. If you weren’t so agitated with him, you would find the gesture cute but killing the man would only make matters worse. You were still on this case, still trying to find the murderer of Miss Choi and if you could pick up any lead, you were going to take every chance you get.

The car ride back was silent, Taehyung not speaking a word. Mortdecai done said his farewells, claiming that he had some business back in London to worry about. Your farewells were bittersweet, loving every moment you spent with the man but here you were, stuck with one who could bite your head off because you wouldn’t allow him to kill someone.

The clicking sound of the door shutting made your skin crawl. Your body was tense, the atmosphere thick and all you could do was swallow the thick lump in your throat as Taehyung’s front brushed against your back, dropping your makeup bag in your suitcase. Your hands involuntarily clenched at your side, your jaw clenching before you turned around, Taehyung already staring back at you.

“What’s your fucking problem?” You hissed, kicking your shoes off but never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t have one,” His tone was too calm and this made you even hotter.

“Bull fucking shit,” You yelled, “You’ve been sulking since I stopped you from killing Ademar—“

“Yeah because that was an easy fucking kill, ____!”

“Taehyung I have to have that man alive! He is a suspect for the killing of Miss Choi and he also killed your friend, so I have to keep him alive until I am one hundred percent positive that he killed her,”

“How is he a suspect?” After laying both your clothes down, Taehyung kicked his shoes off, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt, ridding himself of his belt before he sat on your bed, leaning back on his palms.

“Is it not suspicious that he’s so determined to get that Odalisque? I’m sure he knows about the account numbers,”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Then why else would he be so adamant about stealing the piece?”

He only hummed, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he processed what you said. He couldn’t be mad at you because he knows your reasoning is true and he truly wanted justice for Jungkook. It still breaks his heart to this day but its something he faces all the time—death.

You could only let out a soft sigh as you reached behind your back to unzip your dress, dreading to take this beautiful piece off. Although the night went somewhat planned, you couldn’t lie and say that Taehyung didn’t look hot as hell in his suit, the buttons nearly popping with his chest being so broad. The simple thought made heat pool below, your thighs clenching at the thought.

“I didn’t get to tell you tonight but you looked gorgeous,”

“Thank you,” You mumbled, turning around to give him a soft smile.

Chuckling, Taehyung pushed himself off the bed, wrapping his arms around you before peppering your shoulders with soft kisses, goosebumps erupting across your body. His hands slowly made their way to your hips, gripping the spot gently, sinking his teeth into your skin as he brought your backside to his front, his erection pressing against your ass, the feeling making you blush.

“Are we really about to do this?” You giggle, turning around in his grasp. His eyes fell onto you, “It’ll have to be quick,” He mumbled, “We have an early plane to catch.”

Nodding your head, you gently grab Taehyung’s face before pulling him down into a kiss, your lips molding together as they perfectly moved in sync. You will never get over this; his lips, his smell, his body, Taehyung. His fingers found their way to your back, unzipping your dress and pulling the fabric down, his warm hands pressing against the smooth skin of your back. You were nearly bare and this made Taehyung growl. Pulling back, Taehyung gripped your hips before spinning you around, backing you up until your legs hit the back of the bed, your body falling flat.

“Scoot up,” He demanded, unbuttoning his pants.

Nodding your head, you scooted your way up to the top and watched as he jerked both his pants and underwear down, his dick smacking against his stomach, the tip an angry red. You licked your lips, wanting to suck the living soul out of him but once again, he gave you a tsk before pushing you back, your body conforming to the mattress as he hung his body above you, his gold chain sparkling in the under the dim light.

Slowly, his hands danced their way down your body, curling around the band of your underwear before jerking them down, the cool air making your thighs clamp shut. It was embarrassing how wet you were but at this point, your worries were out the door and all you cared about was the gorgeous man above you.

The feeling of his hands gripping your thighs brought you out your trance, your breath stopping in your throat as he jerked your thighs apart, the feeling of your lips pulling apart made you squirm.

“Fuck,” He huskily growled, “Already drenched and I haven’t done anything,”

He lowly chuckled, dropping his body to the bed before licking a wide stripe up your cunt, your body arching at the feeling. You could never get over this, the feeling of his tongue pressed against you, his hands roaming your body and most importantly, the way his eyes never left yours as he ate you out viscously. Swirling his tongue around your clit, his middle finger pressed into you, the feeling still foreign but the stretch made you moan, pleasure rolling over your body as he thrust back and forth. Adding another finger, Taehyung began sucking your nub, moving his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. All you could do was wrap your fingers in his hair and clench your thighs around his head. If he was honest, he wouldn’t mind dying between your legs.

He slowly sucked on your sensitive nub, the feeling making you see sparks, the feeling indescribable and once he added another finger, the stretch burning but pleasuring all at the same time, you felt the familiar burning coil grow in your stomach and all you could do was let out a whimper and grip his hair, tugging on the poor locks. A moan fell between his lips, vibrating against your skin and that caused you to snap, your back arching, all you could see was black.

Getting you through your high, Taehyung pulled back, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, licking the juices off his fingers, never breaking eye contact with you. This made you throb once more, the obscene sight before you making you flush.

“You taste so fucking good,” He whispered, reaching over you to grab a condom, your hands coming up to lightly trace his chest.

“Hurry,” You mumbled, tracing his neck with your thumb.

Letting out a growl, Taehyung slipped the rest of his condom on before jerking your leg over his shoulder, his hand gripping your thigh and his other gripping his dick, rubbing it up and down your slit, coating the tip with your juices. His chest rose up and down slowly, his eyes focused on the way your juices glistened on his dick but that was soon over when you clenched over nothing, his body halting, his grip on your thigh tightening and in one quick motion, he bottomed out. A silent scream passed your mouth, your lips pouting at the feeling of being full. He was thick, almost too thick. It took everything in him not to cum on the spot, the way your walls clenched around him from the sudden intrusion felt too good, soft grunts passing his lips. Your fingernails dug into his skin, your chest heaving up.

“M-Move,” You grunted, wrapping your legs around his hips.

Pulling back, Taehyung’s tip settled against your opening before he thrust, his hips smacking against your clit making you arch your back once more. With a couple of hard thrusts, Taehyung finally set a pace, his body hovering over yours as he left sloppy kisses across your neck, sucking, biting down and any part of your skin that he could. After only having sex with you once, Taehyung remembered exactly where your spot was at, hitting the sensitive area with ease, causing you to see stars with every brush of his tip. With your feet digging into his ass, your hands clawed up his back and into his hair, the obscene sounds of your juices squelching with every thrust made your body tingle.

“Y-You’re so fucking tight,” He grunted in your ear, his breath hot against the skin.

Pushing his face back, you brought his face down to yours, pressing your lips together. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting his tongue roam your mouth, tangling with your own. The sound of moans falling from Taehyung’s lips was swallowed by you and these sounds were like music to your ear. Pulling back, a string of saliva followed as he sat back on his feet, his eyes falling down to where you two connected, “Turn over,” He grunted, pulling his length out.

Sighing at the lost, you turn around onto your stomach wiggling your ass. A low, deep chuckle passed his lips before he roughly gripped your hips, ramming his dick back into your sopping hole, setting a brutal pace. The sound of your skin smacking together filled the room and all you could think about was how his dick was hitting your g-spot better in this position.

“I-I’m close,” You moaned, clenching the bed sheets between your fingers.

“Same,” He grunted, rolling his hips into yours.

His hand left your hip, bringing his thumb up to his tongue, swiping the pad before pressing it against your clit, rubbing quick, curt circles. The action made your body twitch and with two final thrusts, Taehyung had you falling apart on his dick, your walls clenching around his length.

“Ah, ah, fuck,” You hissed, your body falling limp but Taehyung was quick to catch you.

Taehyung rode out your high and his own hips began lagging. We a few final thrusts, Taehyung pressed his cock in you, his grip around your hips tight as he panted, his dick twitching with every spurt of his cum. Hovering over your shoulders, Taehyung pressed gentle kisses, his heavy pants fanning your back before he fell over, his hand coming down to his dick and taking off the condom, tossing the used rubber in the bin.

“That was amazing,” You mumbled, tracing circles on his chest.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Taehyung threw his legs over the bed and made his way to the bathroom, bringing a wet washcloth back before cleaning you up, sliding new underwear on and tossed one of his shirts over to you. Gaining enough energy to sit up, you pull the large fabric over your body and fell limp into the bed once again, making Taehyung laugh.

“Let’s get some sleep,” He yawned falling down beside you, pulling you into his body before draping the covers over your bodies.

“Good night,”

You shut the car door behind you, your black shades covering your eyes from the bright sun, your all-black outfit soaking in the warm rays. Sadly, Kim Myung-Dae passed of old age before you came back. You, Jimin, and Taehyung all stood outside his home, people crying, sniffling and all you could think about was the grand prize that was stored inside his home.

“Where is the piece?” Taehyung mumbled, nodding his head at an elderly woman who patted her eyes gently.

“When you guys were off having a grand time in America, I came and talked to him myself—“

“what?!” You and Taehyung quipped at the same time, your mouth falling open with shock at Jimin.

“How’re you, Mr. Kim,” Jimin smiled, shaking the old man’s hand.

“Ah, I’m good,” He coughed, gesturing for Jimin to sit down.

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss…about Miss Choi that is,”

Myung-Dae sighed, “She was my bug but bless her, what a terrible way to die,”

Jimin nodded his head, his eyes scanning the room, “Is there anything you have to remember her by?”

The old man nodded, pushing himself off the couch before scooting himself over to a door, disappearing before coming back with a painting. Turning around, Jimin’s heart dropped, his mouth going dry. The Grande Odalisque was hanging—barely—in his nimble fingers. Jimin wanted to jump in joy, to snap a picture of what was being shown in front of him to you but he coughed gently, nodding at the poor man who placed the picture back in the room.

“This painting has been in my family for years and I’ve always trusted Miss Choi to clean it,”

“Of course,” Jimin smiled, “I must be on my way. If you need anything, please let me know,”

Giving Jimin a tight hug, Myung-Dae sent Jimin off, settling himself back on the couch. Jimin tried his hardest to contain his excitement, biting his tongue, cheek, anything he could because right there in this man's house is the piece that everyone was looking for.

“Wow,” You hummed, “So you know where the painting is at?”

Nodding his head, you all went inside and stopped by his open casket, the sight making you grimace but soon Jimin led you to the room. Jimin pointed at the door in the corner, letting you know that that was the room before guarding the entry. Taehyung was quick to jog over there, his hand pushing the door open. With his mouth wide open, Taehyung’s eyes grazed over the number of paintings that were hanging in this secret room; however, one picture, in particular, stuck out to him. Wrapping his fingers around the small photo, his heart sunk at the sight of Jungkook wrapped in the arms of Myung-Dae.

“What is it?” You whispered, eyes stopping on the man whose shoulders were slumped.

“Kim Myung-Dae was Jungkook’s grandfather,”

You took the photo from Taehyung, your eyes settling on the two who were smiling brightly, the love of a grandson and grandfather evident through this photo. You gently placed the picture down and looked back at Taehyung whose eyes were still on the photo.

“Taehyung,” You whispered, hands settling on his cheek, “You couldn’t stop it.”

“I know,” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing what you came here for, the Grande Odalisque.

Rolling the painting up and sneaking out through the back, Taehyung takes you and Jimin back to his place. Rolling the painting out, Taehyung flipped the piece around, a low fuck passing his lips. The back of the painting was blank, with no set of numbers or anything to clarify that this was the original piece. You felt your head throb and you felt the urge to smack Jimin multiple times on the back of the head but the quick movement of Taehyung pulling stuff from a cabinet made you stop from whacking the poor boy.

“They’re smart,” He mused, setting his equipment down.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you watched as Taehyung poured a mysterious liquid on the back, telling Jimin to shut the lights off before switching on his blacklight. Your body filled with relief, there was the numbers you all had been searching for, safe and on the back of the original piece. You wanted to scream with delight and kiss Jimin on the cheek. Taehyung let out a relieved sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“You’re so fucking smart, Jimin,” He praised, patting the man on the back who only stood with his chest puffed out, pride settling through his veins.

Rolling the painting back up, Taehyung tucked it away in a safe. Praising Jimin once more, Taehyung sent you two off, saying that he had some business to do and with that, you and Jimin headed back to the office, your mind flourishing with excitement but you still had a murder to figure out.

Walking through the halls, Jimin continued to ramble in your ear, praising not only himself but you and Taehyung for the handwork you did—even though you left him back in Seoul which he is still salty about. Seokjin’s office came into view and with one knock, you pushed yourself in, Seokjin’s face shocked by your surprise.

“Well, you were almost gone for a month, got any leads?”

Sitting down, you let out a soft sigh, “A lot happened over this investigation but I’m pretty sure I know who killed Miss Choi.”

His ears perked up, “And who might that be?” He quipped, lacing his fingers together as he sat up straighter.

“Ademar Boucher. A French man whose been harassing not only Kim Taehyung but others around him and killing people in his hunt for this painting. I know for a fact he killed a car service guy by the name Jeon Jungkook, killed an American man named Don Simmons, and tried killing not only Taehyung, but me, Taehyung’s bodyguard Yoongi, and two other foreigners who helped us on this investigation.”

He nodded his head, “When do you think he will hit next?”

“Glad you asked,” You smiled, “I have a hunch he will show up at the Art Gallery Auction event this Saturday. I need backup there, Seokjin, there’s no telling what he’ll do,”

“Of course,” He nodded his head, “I will have Jimin and Hoseok to be there as well as your own personal backup,”

After the meeting, you invited Jimin to go get coffee with you, which he eagerly agreed. Taking him to your favorite spot, you both found comfort in a secluded corner, the sun setting which radiated off of Jimin’s skin beautifully.

“So,” He started, taking a sip of his coffee, “how was it like spending almost a month with the notorious Kim Taehyung?” His eyebrow arched, a smirk evident behind his lid.

You rolled your eyes, “I mean, we worked and he showed me around the cities that we stayed in and—“

“And fucked?”

You choked on your coffee, a few drops hitting the table as you hit your chest, “Jimin—“

“It’s pretty obvious that you guys fucked,” He shrugged his shoulders,

“You’ve had this glow ever since you came back,”

“Glow?”

“Yeah,” He mused, “You seem more relaxed, your shoulders aren’t as tense, and the way you both talked to each other, looked at each other, and the sexual tension was way too obvious,”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your coffee, quickly wiping at the mess on the table with your sleeve. You didn’t think it was that obvious or the fact that you were “glowing”. Now that he mentioned, you did find yourself not as stressed, the weight of the world not evident on your shoulder as you hung around him. It felt nice not having to protect yourself, to be overly aware of your surroundings, the feeling of Taehyung being there made you calm. If you were honest, he felt like your own personal bodyguard. He made you feel warm and giddy inside but you wouldn’t tell Jimin that because he would dangle that in your face and never let it up.

“Fine, we had sex…” You staggered.

“Had sex…”

“Two times,” You said in more of a question.

Jimin’s mouth dropped, his hand coming to cover his mouth as he giggled quietly into his sleeve. You rolled your eyes at his childish behavior, looking around embarrassed, hoping no one heard your confession even though none of them know of Kim Taehyung.

“Wow,” His grin was stupid, “two times, huh? No wonder you have a glow. His semen must be a wonderful moisturizer.”

Your cheeks immediately flushed and you abruptly stood up, reaching across to land a loud smack on the back of his head. His laugh echoed throughout the cafe, earning some looks from strangers and all you could do was sulk in your embarrassment as he happily giggled. You were ready to kick his shin under the table but your phone vibrated your leg, your heart fluttering at the name that popped up.

From: Tae

Come over, yeah? I miss you :(

Your cheeks flushed and with one final glare at Jimin, you threw your head back, downing the rest of your drink.

“I’m leaving,”

“Oh, was that Mr. Right?”

You let out an annoyed sigh before scooting your chair under and a frantic Jimin scrambling around to catch up with you. Bumping his shoulder with yours, Jimin paused outside the cafe before looking at you.

“I’m happy for you,”

You glanced up, “Thanks, Jiminie,”

With a quick side hug, you both parted ways. You pulled your phone back and sent Taehyung a quick message, putting your car into drive.

The ride there was quick, your foot on the pedal as you thought about all the things that could happen once you were there. Your body ached for him, your pussy even did and that makes you truly realize that you were hooked on this man. Just thinking about the evenings where he fucked you relentlessly made your toes curl and your cheeks flushed.

Thankfully, your car was parked in front of his house in a quick ten minutes. Your heels echoed as you entered the mansion, your eyes traveling to where you saw the familiar black hair. His back was facing you and all you could think about was running your fingers through his hair.

“Hi,” You mused giddily, sitting down in front of Taehyung.

His eyes fell onto you, his black hair falling barely above his eyelashes, his skin dewier than normal—fucking beautiful. Your thighs clenched at the sight of him and all you wanted to do was jump in his lap and ride him until you couldn’t cum anymore. The thought made your mouth water.

“How have you been?” He quizzed, cocking his head to the side.

“Tired but great,” You smiled, pushing your hair behind your ear.

He smirked, “I’ve missed you dearly—“

“I was just here earlier this morning,” You laughed.

“I know but we were just with each other every day,”

You nodded your head, eyes falling to the floor at the feeling of his gaze burning into you. Your fingers gently played with each other as the tension grew thicker. It was embarrassing how many times you two have already fucked. It was only two times but still, it seems like a lot but it's like you two cannot get enough of each other.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” You asked, dying to break the tension.

He sighed, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He sent you a curt smile before pouring himself some more wine.

“What’re you going to do with the painting, the real one that is?”

“I’m going to keep it here and place the fake on in the auction, make money off of it.”

“Will the other art dealers know that its fake?”

He smirked, “That’s the fun part, they never know until they’ve bought the painting.”

You lightly laughed, “I see,”

You both sat in silence, both of you want the same thing but both too scared to mention it. The question was on the tip of your tongue but the lump in your throat was your excuse for not verbalizing the simple question: ‘Hey, wanna fuck?’.

“Come with me,”

You jumped at the sudden command but agreed when he reached his hand out, wiggling his long fingers. Lacing your hand with his, you follow him up the stairway, awing at the paintings that decorated the walls. He always had a beautiful home but you never got to see the rest of it, only meeting in his lounge room or his study. His hand gave yours a soft squeeze before he pushed open a door, a large king-sized bed coming into view. Your heart fluttered, your mind already knowing what was going to happen. Sighing softly, you look around, his room being just as beautiful as the rest of his home. Paintings decorated his walls and one picture in particular stuck out to you—a picture of him and his parents, two smaller children hanging around them. You awed at the picture, looking up at Taehyung who was already glancing back at you.

“Who are they?” You whispered, eyes falling back on the picture.

“My parents and my two younger siblings,”

“They’re beautiful,” You smile.

“Thank you,” He smirked, “I haven’t seen them since I chose this lifestyle but I always send them money,”

Your heart awed at that. He was too precious and you were thankful you were seeing this side of him. This whole time all you’ve known was the businessman Taehyung, the killer Taehyung but now, as you both stand in his room, you’re seeing his vulnerable side. You wanted to stay in this moment together but the feeling of his hands wrapping around your waist and his lips leaving soft kisses amongst your neck, you knew this precious moment was coming to an end.

Lulling your head to the side, you reach back and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Taehyung kissed harder, his lips sucking on one particular spot that made a moan slip through your lips, his dick twitching at the sound. Satisfied at your reaction, Taehyung licked the spot, awing at the mark that he left, the mark that would tell people that he fucked you, that you were his, it made his heart flutter.

Turning you around, Taehyung stared down at you, your eyes fluttering shut, missing the touch of his lips against your neck. Pushing you back, your body fell on the bed, your hair flaring out. Taehyung was quick to take a mental picture, your body laid out against his comforter, ready for him to take.

“What do you want from me?” He quizzed, unbuckling his belt before ripping it through his loops, the sound making your hole clench around nothing.

Taehyung squatted down and grabbed your legs, kissing the bare skin as his hands began undoing your heels. The simple gesture was sweet, making your heart flutter but the way his eyes screamed sex, you couldn’t focus on the cute gesture anymore. Tossing your shoes behind him, Taehyung dropped to his knees, his lips lightly grazing your skin before pressing wet, sloppy kisses on the inside of your thighs. He already pushed your dress up, the fabric bundled around your waist and all that came between him and your sweet nectar was the lace panties that were taunting him.

“What a slutty color,” He hummed, pulling at the band before letting go, the sound echoing through the room, “You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, your mind too fogged with euphoria; however, the low growl that rumbled throughout his chest made you whimper.

“Answer me,” He seethed, landing a loud smack to the inside of your thigh.

“Y-Yes!” You squealed, jerking your legs up.

Chuckling darkly, Taehyung left a chaste kiss against the growing red spot. Your chest heaved up and down, your eyes trickling with tears of pleasure. Taehyung was never this rough, holding back multiple times but now you were in his territory, his home, he was able to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Sweet girl,” He hummed, bringing his index finger down to your underwear, tracing the spot where your clit would be, barely touching the fabric, “already so needy for my cock.”

As if he read your mind, his face came closer to your core, his tongue flattening against the lace underwear, licking a thick stripe up to your clit, the feeling just as wonderful as before. A loud whimper passed your lips, your hands coming down to press his face closer to your core but he tsked, pinning your hands down to the bed.

“Do I need to tie you up, hmm? Pretty little girls like you don’t deserve to pull my hair. You have to earn it, yeah?”

“Y-Yes,”

“Yes, what?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Yes sir?”

He growled and next thing you know, your underwear was being ripped off you and his face deep inside your heat. A loud moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping at the covers. His tongue wasted no time in delving inside your hole, licking your walls as his hands held your hips down, making sure you couldn’t budge. This feeling was indescribable, the feeling of him finally being rough with you making your mind swirl. Your knuckles were white, your grip tightening the more and more his tongue sank deeper.

Taehyung finally pulled back, your juices following his chin, the sight filthy in itself. Satisfied with your reaction, Taehyung leaned down and placed a tender kiss to your bundle of nerves making your body jerk at the touch. Bringing his hand down, Taehyung palmed at the growing erection, a soft whimper, one that you couldn’t hear, tumbled out of his throat.

“You taste so fucking good,” He moaned, pushing himself off the floor, his gaze falling on your already fucked out figure.

Fluttering your eyes open, you pout at the man who stared back at you, your juices glistening on his chin. The sight made you awe but you were quick to shut your mouth when Taehyung leaned down, smashing his lips against yours. Moaning, you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling, tugging at the thick locks causing Taehyung to let out a set of moans. Biting down on your lower lip, Taehyung’s hazily gazed back at you before roughly thrusting his clothed erection against your sopping wet cunt, a smirk pulling at his lips at the sudden arch of your back.

“Want Daddy to fill you up? To fill your sopping wet cunt with my thick cock, hm?” He cocked his head to the side, bringing his finger up to your jaw tracing the bone, “Make my pretty little slut cry?”

All you could do was nod your head but the way his jaw clenched made you whimper out a quiet ‘yes Daddy’. A satisfied smirk fell onto his lips before he pushed himself back up, undoing his shirt. You quickly sat up and rid yourself of your clothes, completely bare underneath him as he took his sweet time taking his pants off, his bulge sticking out in his underwear, your mouth watering at the sight.

“I think Daddy is gonna let you suck him off tonight. Does that sound good?”

You licked your lips and nodded your head furiously. You had been waiting so long to finally feel his huge dick settled in your mouth. You wanted to feel how heavy it was and good he tasted and now, that you were fixing to find out, your mouth drooled at the thought.

Rolling yourself onto your knees, you crouch, making yourself look like an obedient dog as you waited for him to let himself free, his underwear barely keeping it tucked in. Smirking at you, Taehyung slowly pulled his underwear down, his length springing free and smacking against his toned stomach, precum smearing on his skin.

“What’re you waiting for, kitten?”

That was all you needed before your hand wrapped around his length. You awed at how pretty his dick was. Veins prominent all around and soon enough, your tongue licked up the underside of his dick, your cunt clenching at the sight of him throwing his head back. Taehyung moaned at the way your mouth felt around his cock and what matters worse were the small kitten licks you gave to his slit, your tongue nudging at the small opening.

“Fuck, you’ve got such a filthy mouth, princess,” Taehyung carded his fingers through your hair before gripping the strands, shoving your mouth down onto his length, “but I don’t have time for you to tease,”

Taehyung took control over your head, bobbing your head up and down, his length heavy on your tongue as his tip nudged at the back of your throat. Your hands came up to clench the back of his thighs, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his smooth skin. Pushing your head back with a loud pop, a string of saliva stayed connected with your lips until you wiped the back of your mouth, panting as Taehyung sent you one of his signature smirks.

“How about I fuck your mouth, yeah?”

Before you could answer, Taehyung’s hands found their way to your head, gripping the sides before shoving his cock in your already opened mouth. His thrusts were short and his balls slapped against your chin as he fucked your filthy mouth.

Taehyung pulled his head to the side, “You take daddy’s cock so good. Only sluts take a big cock like this so well,”

Your pussy clenched at the praise but to make him feel better, you let out a loud moan, the noise vibrating around his length making his hips stutter. Sighing, Taehyung pulled his cock at slowly, wiping your chin with his thumb.

“If I keep going you’ll make me cum,” He chuckled, reaching back to land a quick tap on your ass, “lay on your back.”

You found yourself nestled against his pillows and your thighs squeezed shut as his eyes fell upon your body, taking in every single detail about you. His dick twitched at the sight and Taehyung settled above you, his chain swinging back and forth on his neck, this being a newfound kink. Your fingers came up to wrap around the chain, gently tugging him down.

Laughing lightly, Taehyung pressed his lips against yours, your lips perfectly molding together as you both fought for dominance. Brushing his tongue against your bottom lip, Taehyung shoved the muscle inside, both tongues tangling together as your teeth clashed against his other. Spit slowly fell down the side of your mouth and you weren’t ashamed.

Taehyung’s palms slowly felt around your body before finding your pebbled nub, twisting the sensitive nerves, making your back arch. His other hand came up to your other breasts, squeezing, pinching the soft mounds. A soft sigh passed your lips, the sound making Taehyung’s dick twitch.

Releasing your lips with a loud pop, Taehyung moved his mouth down to your right breasts, swirling his tongue around your nipple, his other hand pinching and rolling the sensitive nipple between his fingers. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the feeling almost being too much but Taehyung was quick to switch to your other breast before leaving a sweet tender kiss to the mound he just harassed.

Taehyung spent his time toying with your smooth mounds but he pulled back with a loud smack, leaving another sweet kiss to the reddening skin before pressing a trail of kisses down your body, his shoulders broad as he held himself up. His lips finally found their way to the top of your pussy, letting out a breathy laugh that sent goosebumps over your body. Pressing a tender kiss to the skin, Taehyung looked back up at you, his eyes filled with lust.

“I’m going to make you feel good okay?”

You nodded and soon enough Taehyung found himself face to face with your sopping core once again. You were still sticky from before but that didn’t stop him from sucking a hickey on your lip, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“T-Taehyung please,” You sighed, bringing your fingers up to your breast to toy with them.

“What princess?”

Your heart clenched at the name, “Please do something, I need you…Daddy,”

Something in Taehyung clicked before his tongue was deep in your core and his nose rubbed against your sensitive clit. A silent scream passed your lips as your hands found perched in his hair, tugging at the locks once more. Pulling back, Taehyung quickly shoved his middle finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit before easing it slowly in you, your walls clenching around him making his dick twitch. A soft moan passed his lips at the feeling but he quickly pressed his lips to your nub, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, sucking, nibbling until panted moans were all that was heard.

“You taste so sweet and it’s all mine,” He moaned, pressing a tender kiss to your nub before pressing another finger in, “Look at the way your pussy swallows my fingers, doesn’t want to let them go,”

Normally you would be embarrassed at the filth that was spewing from his mouth but the feeling of your orgasm building was all that you were worried about.

“I’m close,” You sighed beautifully, the sound making Taehyung twitch his head.

Slipping in another finger, Taehyung thrust his fingers in and out quickly, the squelch of your juices filling the room and finally, you snapped, throwing you back up and your thighs shaking from being pleasured. Taehyung rode out your high, slowly thrumming his fingers in and out, his lips sucking so softly around your clit but you were quick to swat his head away gently. Pulling back, Taehyung pulled his fingers out before shoving the three digits in his mouth, sucking the juices off before leaning down and shoving his tongue back inside you, licking, sucking all your juices up, the lewd sound causing another orgasm build up.

Clenching your thighs, you press Taehyung’s head further into you, reaching down with your hand to furiously rub four fingers against your sensitive clit. Your orgasm snapped and relief washed over you. Falling limp, you panted as you calmed down but once you opened your eyes, you wish you hadn’t. Taehyung’s chin was dripping.

“Fuck,” He mewled, “You squirted all over me,” He whispered before diving back down, slurping up your juices.

You softly whimpered and nudged his head away. Bringing his form back up to you, Taehyung pressed his lips down to you hard, your juices mixing in with your kiss. You sighed at the taste, gently rubbing the nape of his neck. His hands slowly rubbed your thigh and his dick gently pressed against your sopping wet cunt, the feeling making him want to combust but he held back, more focused on the way your lips meshed together.

He pulled back, “That was so hot,”

You blushed, bringing your hand up to cover your face but he quickly pushed it down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Don’t hide, beautiful,” That only made you blush more.

Taehyung sat back, his eyes falling to the wet spot that settled beneath your butt; this made him growl. Grabbing his length, Taehyung pressed his tip to your lips, rubbing the sensitive skin against your juices, his hip involuntarily thrusting forward, the feeling making him throw his head back. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the feeling making your hole clenched, making Taehyung’s head snapped up, his chest heaving up and down.

“Are you on birth control?” He breathed, nudging himself in you slightly before pulling out, teasing you.

“Yes, You breathed out, eyeing where you two connect.

“Mm,”

Giving his dick one more quick pump, Taehyung gently pushed his tip in, sighing loudly at the feeling of your wet walls around him. Hissing, Taehyung bottomed out, his body shaking as his head hung low. You moan at the feeling of being stretched out but you quickly brought your hands to his hair, running your fingers through the locks soothingly as Taehyung half himself back from an orgasm. His breath was shaky as he looked up, his eyes falling upon you.

“You feel so fucking good, kitten,” He mewled, his tongue coming out to lick his lips.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let out a needy moan, “I’m glad but can you please move?”

Something in him snapped before he brought a hand up to your neck, squeezing at the column, “Don’t boss me around, you fucking slut,”

You swallowed roughly, your pussy involuntarily clenched around his length, a pained moan passing his lips. Something in your snapped as well because you soon found yourself rolling your hips, trying to make any movement that made him feel worse. Letting an angry growl, Taehyung pushed himself up and grabbed your thighs before ramming himself in you over and over. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of him finally moving. His dick abused your g-spot with every thrust, making you see stars. He continued this brutal pace and you felt another build-up, your back slowly arching until you snapped, your walls fluttering around his length.

“Fuck,” He gasped, his hips stuttering as he rode you through your high.

His hips kept their pace and as you sunk back into the mattress, Taehyung sought out his high. Dropping one thigh, Taehyung hugged your other as he brutally smacked his hips against yours. You let out a soft whimper at the feeling of your body building up another orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum,” You sobbed, bringing your arm up to hang over your eyes.

“Fuck,”

Taehyung reached down, pressing two fingers firm against your clit as he rubbed furiously, his hips matching the speed. With a couple of more snaps of his hips, Taehyung yelled, his cum spurting into you. With another snap of his fingers, your orgasm rang through. His breath fanned against your chest as he rode out his high, your walls milking him dry. His body shook and suddenly his body fell on top of yours.

You immediately began raking your fingers through his hair, soothing the man whose body was shaking at the orgasm he just had. Pressing a soft kiss to your chest, Taehyung lifted his hips, his soft member falling out before he rolled over, your body missing his warmth.

“You are a kinky man,” You hummed, rolling to your side to face him.

He laughed, pushing his bangs off his forehead, “I’ve never cum that fast before,” He sounded fucked out himself and that made you giggle even more.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Taehyung pushed himself off the bed, shuffling his way to the bathroom before coming back with a cloth, cleaning you up gently. He went back to the bathroom but came back quickly, his bottom covered with new underwear and a shirt dangling from his fingers. Tossing the fabric to you, Taehyung rummaged through his closet, pulling out some grey sweats before handing them to you.

“Might need to stash you some clothes here,” He mumbled, shoving your feet through the pant's legs.

“Oh, so you expect me here more often?” You raised an eyebrow at the man who only raised one back.

“I would only hope so,”

You tugged at your gown, your nerves finally settling in. The art auction was slam packed, people buzzing about the pieces that were going to be on sale and the Grande Odalisque being one of the main pieces. Your hands were clammy as you neared the room, the cool metal of your gun feeling nice against your hot skin. Jimin and Hoseok were hot behind your trail, fitting in with the people around them. Seokjin’s extra men were piling in later, waiting for everyone to make their way in the room. The plan was simple: you were to auction as if you were going to buy, throw out some cash a couple of rounds and hope to snag Ademar.

“We’ll stand in the back, okay?”

You nodded at Jimin’s calming reassurance before taking a seat in the middle. Your eyes skipped around, trying to look for the devilish man but you didn’t see him, your heart falling. Rolling your eyes, you listen to the announcer.

“Five-hundred-thousand,” You called out to some random piece that you didn’t care for but another buyer called out higher.

Calling out a few more prices, your nerves began to get the best of you when you still haven’t seen the Odalisque. You were fixing to stand up but the feeling of someone sitting beside you made you stop. You were about to look until the feeling of a knife was placed underneath your thigh. Your breath hitched in your throat. Looking over, you noticed Ademar glaring back at you.

The announcer called out another painting, Ademar pressing the knife deeper into your leg, “Bid,” he demanded harshly.

“One-million won!” You shrieked.

Your ears were ringing, your nerves were on end until Jimin’s voice rang through.

“Taehyung’s in here,”

You let out a shaky breath. You felt eyes on the back of your head, knowing that it’s Taehyung’s and all you could do was shake, the pressure of the knife pressing deeper and deeper. Fortunately, the man called out the Grande Odalisque, your nerves heightening once more.

“You’re not going to win,” You whispered, looking over at the man.

His eyes raked over your face, “What do you—“

“Six-million won, that’s final,”

Everyone gasped, eyes falling onto Taehyung who walked up in the middle of the aisle. His eyes landed on Ademar who tried slipping out but Taehyung was quick to grab his arm, landing a solid punch in his face, Ademar slumping to the ground. Standing up, you pull out your badge.

“Ademar Boucher, you are under arrest for three counts of second-degree murder and for stealing,” You finished off the rest of his rights as Jimin and Hoseok brought him up to his feet, clamping the cuffs around his wrists.

Seokjin nodded his head at you before taking the man out. You felt an arm wrap around your waist and a soft kiss plant to your head.

“Why’re you so hot?” He chuckled, leading you out of the room as the room buzzed with confusion.

“You look hot,” You fired back, raising an eyebrow at the man.

Leading you to a counter, Taehyung paid for the piece and turned around, sending you a quick smile.

“Why did you buy the piece?” You questioned.

“So I can burn that piece of shit,”

You bellowed out a laugh as Taehyung led you out to your car. And as a man of his word, as soon as you both got back to his place, he threw the painting in his fire, the beautiful piece fading away as the fire ate it up.

“I’m so glad the case has finally closed,” You mumbled, brushing the fallen hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” He sighed, “me too. I don’t understand how you do this cop shit,” You laughed and kissed him quickly. Taehyung smiled down at you and brought you into a hug.

“I have a question,” He mumbled in your hair.

You pulled back, “What is it?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your cheeks flushed at the question. You had been waiting for this moment ever since the first moment you two had sex. He was everything you wanted in a man. He was beautiful, talented, and overall such a wonderful man.

To answer his question, you pull his thick folder out from your bag, tossing it into the fire, melting away with the thing that brought you together.

“Thank fucking god,”

It has been five months since the murder of Miss Choi closed. You’ve taken a break from the force for a month and spent the time with Taehyung but once that month ended you were back on your feet, solving cases and throwing people in prison; it’s what you loved. Ever since that case, Seokjin has placed you on more difficult cases, trusting that you will solve them because, after your wild ride with the Grande Odalisque, you were sure you could handle anything.

You and Taehyung have been going strong. He still did his thing and you did yours. Your sex life was out of this world and his love for you was unconditional and even though he wouldn’t tell anyone, he’s falling for you and he’s falling hard. You couldn’t blame him though, you were falling hard for him. Every day he surprised you and you found yourself canceling your contract with your renter and moving in with Taehyung. You spent most nights there anyways, moving more of your items in over a couple of months but he finally talked you into moving.

So, here you were laid up in bed with him, his arms wrapped around your waist as his head settled on your breast—just finishing from your third round of sex. Taehyung placed gentle kisses against your skin, his thumb grazing your skin. You both laid there in silence, soaking in the warmth and comfort of each other. The moment of silence ended however when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

“Who is it?” Taehyung mumbled, not wanting to let you go but did. Your face dropped at the message, your heart falling to your ass.

From: Seokjin Ademar killed. Poison found in his blood.

Your phone dropped out of your hand, bringing both your hands up to your face to rub your eyes. If your eyes weren’t deceiving you then this was going to be a total fucking nightmare.

“What is it?” Taehyung mumbled looking at you.

“Time to go find another killer.”

372 notes · View notes

gaylotusthatexists · 4 years

Note

For the sanders sides prompt, could you do demonic/ ghostly possession? Any characters are good!

red eyes and dark shadows

fandom: sanders sides

pairing: dukexiety (could be read as romantic or platonic)

prompt: demonic/ghostly possession

trigger warnings: blood mention, murder mention

word count: 2232

a/n: this is written for the @badthingshappenbingo! actually it’s been a concept i’ve been meaning to explore for a while so! thanks for requesting it haha, had a lot of fun with this

ao3

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Virgil asked, ducking beneath a plank of wood as he followed Remus into the abandoned house, sat just on the edge of their village.

Remus smirked. "Of course it's a good idea!"

"I dunno," Virgil murmured, glancing around at the house. It was dusty, and dark, and had a horrible smell, like somebody had died in here and their corpse was still rotting somewhere close by. Somebody probably had died in here, given the police tape outside the building, remnants of a long since abandoned case, and the fact that nobody had lived here for decades. God, somebody had probably been murdered in here. "This place doesn't seem very safe."

"Eh, I come in here all the time," Remus said, beginning to walk up the stairs.

Virgil cautiously followed, cringing as the stairs made a creaking sound when he stepped on them, feeling as though they were this close to breaking. He breathed in and out to compose himself, before continuing his journey, trying not to think about how these stairs could give in, resulting in him falling to his certain doom. He told himself over and over that, if Remus had come here so often, then it must be safe, right? Remus was still very much alive, at all. Although, it did concern Virgil that Remus had come here before, frequently - what was he even doing here all the time?

Probably trying to summon something. Just like he was attempting to do now. God, how had Virgil managed to get himself roped into this? He loved Remus, he really did, but... he didn't particularly like his way of doing things. Definitely wasn't a fan of the chaos Remus always seemed to cause. Mundane chaos, of course - Virgil thought, at least - but it seemed as though something much worse was about to happen. Virgil couldn't shake the feeling away, couldn't silence his brain screaming as him to run, to abandon Remus and let him do the whole 'demon summoning' thing.

Although, Virgil had to admit that the whole 'demon summoning' thing did intrigue him, sorta. Like, logically he knew that demons weren't real, and at most all this would be is chanting, being disappointed, then probably being arrested by the police for trespassing. But, of course, part of him did believe in demons and the supernatural and ghosts and everything - mostly the part in his brain that conjured up demons at night so he couldn't get to sleep because if he closed his eyes the demon sitting in the corner of his room would most certainly murder him, but there was also a part of his brain that couldn't help but think that the existence of demons would be so fucking cool.

"You still have the book, right?" Remus asked, stopping at the top of the stairs.

Virgil took off his backpack and opened it, taking out a large, old book, the pages yellowing and delicate. His friend Logan had lent it to him, without Virgil explaining his intended use - trust Logan to own some ancient demon summoning book.

"Nice," Remus said with a grin, opening the door into another room, seemingly falling apart. The roof had a giant hole in the corner, allowing the moonlight to flood in, and also allowing birds to fly into the room. Remus ran into the room, scaring away the birds, then turned back to Virgil. "You can read it, right?"

"I mean, it's all in latin," Virgil said, slowly stepping into the room and joining Remus. "I can try."

"Good, you're reading then," Remus decided.

In the centre of the room, Remus had drawn a pentagram with some sort of bright red substance - paint, probably, but Virgil had his doubts. He'd also set candles around the pentagram, which he began to light with a lighter. Part of Virgil wanted to take the lighter away for fear that Remus may end up burning the house down - it was built entirely from wood, this entire place was a fire hazard - but didn't want to risk getting burnt himself. Besides, Remus must have known what he was doing, right?

"Where'd you get all this red paint from?" Virgil asked, finding the silence as Remus set everything up to be rather awkward.

"I never said it was paint."

Virgil blinked. "Oh. Uh. What is it then?"

"Blood, obviously," Remus said.

Virgil wanted to assume that Remus meant fake blood, but part of him was convinced otherwise. "Blood?" he repeated. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to dig any further.

"If we're gonna summon a demon, we might as well do it properly," Remus said, lighting the final candle and standing on the opposite side of the pentagram to Virgil.

Virgil breathed in. "Yeah, uh, about that... have you thought about what's gonna happen when - I mean, if we manage to summon a demon?"

Remus nodded. "I've been fantasising about this for years," he said, an excited glint in his eyes.

Virgil tried his best not to be alarmed at that. "Alright, uh..."

"The demon should stay trapped inside the pentagram," Remus continued. "After that, uh, we have a demon."

"Okay..." That didn't sound like much of a plan, but Virgil decided to give Remus the benefit of the doubt. This would be fine. Demons weren't real, anyway, it wasn't as if anything bad would happen.

"Read, then," Remus instructed.

Virgil opened the book, beginning to flick through the pages. "Uh, what page?"

Remus shrugged. "Any will be fine, I think."

Virgil stopped at a random page and read the words, not entirely sure if the pronunciation was right but it was worth a shot. Part of him hoped that he was reading it wrong, because then on the off chance that demons were indeed real, there was less of a chance of him successfully summoning one.

The pentagram at his feet began to glow. For a moment, Virgil stopped reading, a little shaken. That... He must have been imagining that, right?

"Carry on!" Remus shouted.

Virgil cleared his throat, then continued to read. He felt the wind pick up around him, blowing through his hair and causing a few of the candles to flicker out. He figured that was probably just a coincidence, even though that day hadn't been particularly windy - in fact, it has been a pretty warm, summery day. But it must have been a coincidence - half the roof was missing, it made sense.

But then the candles relit themselves and the pentagram began to glow again. Virgil had reached the end of the page. He glanced up from the book, noticing a shadow beginning to form inside the pentagram, a cloud of darkness slowly rising. Virgil dropped the book on the floor in shock, cringing at first at the sudden crash but thinking afterwards that maybe that was good, maybe that would stop whatever was going on. Maybe the dark figure standing in the pentagram, an almost humanoid being, shifting on the spot and changing form every two seconds, would go away.

Remus grinned. "We did it!" he exclaimed, excitedly.

Virgil stopped back. "Uh, what- what exactly did we do?"

"We summoned a demon!" Remus said, bouncing up and down on the spot. "We actually did it, Virge!"

Virgil tried his very best to remain calm, but couldn't stop his arms from shaking. "Wh-What do we do now?" They couldn't just keep this demon around, could they? Christ, the demon could kill them at any second. How had they even done this?

Remus hummed, standing still for a moment. "Huh. I don't know. I didn't actually think we'd get this far."

Virgil's eyes widened and he leaped back again, backing up towards the wall. The book was on fire. Shit. Fuck - the whole room was built out of wood, this-

"Remus, we really should-"

Remus fell to the floor. The shadow had disappeared. But the fire didn't appear to be calming down any time soon. Virgil rushed over towards Remus and hoisted him up, leaning his body against his own. Remus was unconscious - great, just great. They had to get out of here, before they both burnt alive. Virgil attempted to carry Remus out the room and down the stairs, moving slowly underneath Remus' weight but escaping from the fire nonetheless.

But before they made it out, Remus' eyes opened, and his body heated up, forcing Virgil to let go at the sudden heat against his skin. Remus rose a few feet into the air, his eyes glowing red. That... That wasn't natural, was it? That shouldn't be happening.

"Remus, we really should-"

Remus shot down towards Virgil, grabbing his arm and digging his fingernails into his skin, causing Virgil to cringe from the pain. He still couldn't stop shaking. At any moment, he figured he'd probably start crying. He tried to repress that.

Remus wasn't looking like himself, not at all. Well, the red eyes probably said enough, and the fact that he was hovering in the air, his hair floating around him. But he also had black marks beginning to appear on his skin, drawing in over his face. He grinned, and Virgil noticed that his teeth were now pointed - not teeth, fangs.

Virgil tried to move, tried to run away, but he was frozen in place. He tried to call for help, but no words came out. This... This wasn't good. Fuck - he knew this had been a bad idea. He'd told Remus over and over again that this was a bad idea, and yet here he was, probably about to be killed by Remus, or... or by whatever had taken over Remus' body.

This wasn't Remus. This... This was the shadow demon, wasn't it? It must have taken over Remus' body. That was... Well, it wasn't exactly a logical explanation, but it was the only one that made sense. Remus was fucking possessed by a fucking demon. Brilliant.

Darkness escaped from Remus' mouth, heading closer to Virgil himself. Virgil held his breath and back away as much as he could. Just before the shadow reached his skin, he finally found the strength to pull himself away from Remus and dart out the door, tripping over as he ran out into the front garden onto the cold, hard concrete.

He scrambled to his back, trying to sit up and look at the building. The top floor was completely on fire now, and the house seemed close to collapsing. Maybe... Maybe that would be good - it would get rid of the demon, at least, but... Remus was still in there. He may have turned into a demon or whatever, but... it was still Remus. Virgil's best friend. If the building collapsed, then Remus would die as well.

Well, not anymore. Remus - no, the demon came flying out the house, straight towards Virgil still laying on the ground. He tried to back away, but Remus grabbed his shirt, pulling him up and holding him in place. Virgil really was crying now - perfect. The building behind them collapsed, a raging fire still burning. Virgil could hear sirens in the distance, so perhaps somebody had already seen the fire and alerted the emergency services. But, in all honesty, Virgil had more important things to be worrying about than the burning house, like the fact that an actual demon was about to murder him.

"Remus," he said, one more time, "you-"

And Virgil fell to the floor, a sharp pain soaring through his spine upon contact with the concrete. He looked back up at Remus, who's eyes had stopped glowing red now, thank God. His face was right above Virgil's, their noses almost touching, and that's when Virgil realised that Remus had fell on top of him, his hands resting either side of Virgil's body. He looked... confused. Scared.

Virgil shuffled out from under Remus, getting up into his feet, and helping Remus up afterwards. He glanced behind Remus, seeing that shadow demon again, escaping into the sky. It was gone. They were... They were safe.

Virgil threw his arms around Remus, but Remus pushed him back, moving away from him.

"I-"

"Remus," Virgil breathed. "You're..."

Remus brought a hand up to his arm, rubbing it gently. "I'm sorry. That- That was a bad idea."

"Yeah, no shit," Virgil said without thinking, immediately regretting it as he saw Remus flinch. "I- I mean... We should get out of here."

Remus was shaking. Actually shaking. Virgil had never known Remus to be so afraid of anything, afraid of himself.

"Y'know, fire and all," Virgil said, gesturing to the fire behind them, illuminating the night. Virgil stepped towards Remus, gently taking his hand. "Also, pretty sure the cops are coming. So, y'know, we should probably scram."

"I could have killed you," Remus said, quietly.

Virgil didn't quite know how to respond to that, so instead he just dragged Remus away from the scene, quickly picking up speed and running back towards his own house. Remus followed, but stayed quiet.

Before Virgil got home, he stopped, going to sit down on a bench on the side of the street. He pulled Remus close to him, hugging him tight. Remus' face was wet with tears, and the shaking had only gotten worse.

"No more summoning demons, yeah?" Virgil asked.

Remus chuckled lightly, but it came out as more of a sob. "Yeah. Agreed."

#bad things happen bingo #demonic/ghostly possession #sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #remus sanders #ts remus #dukexiety #my writing #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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zrtranscripts · 3 years

Text

Radio Abel, Season Eight

Part 5 of 5

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I don't know if it's just because New Canton's at the center of the government in the UK -

ZOE CRICK: I'm still getting used to that.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - but now that I think about it, people do seem to be putting more effort into the way they dress these days.

ZOE CRICK: I've noticed that. For a while, I thought it was because people wanted to spruce themselves up for the royal visits, but King Jamie hasn't been visiting as much since Amelia left for... for whatever it is she's doing, and people are still looking rather flamboyant.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: One of the cooks makes his own hats out of food wrappers.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly. People are having fun, and they're less worried about looking cool than they were before the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think those hats are cool!

ZOE CRICK: That's the point. Taste is much more subjective now. [laughs] We don't have TV or newspapers, and it still takes half an hour to send a picture over ROFFLEnet, so it's harder to follow trends. People are using their imaginations instead.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Speaking of imagination, here's a track by someone with lots of it.

ZOE CRICK: Maybe Z-Day’s made self-expression more important, not less. We can't control the V-types, and we might be confined to our settlements most of the time, but we can decide how we look, so people go to great lengths to execute their vision. It's like how women in pre-apocalyptic prisons used to improvise cosmetics out of Smarties and shoe polish.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: How do you know what women used to do in prison?

ZOE CRICK: Oh, I was talking to Maxine about it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Dr. Maxine has been to prison?!

ZOE CRICK: No, she... [sighs] That's not the point. I'm saying that for a lot of people, clothes, hair, and makeup are important creative outlets now that we're restricted in other ways. They also help people feel normal, now that -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - now that V-types are roaming across the UK.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Here's a song to make us all feel a bit more normal.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Imagine if Vogue was still in print. Do you think they'd employ zombie models?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, with headlines like, “Gray is the New Black.” [laughs] They might struggle to find advertisers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay, business side might be a bit tricky to sort out. What about the editorial?

ZOE CRICK: They'd have post-apocalyptic fashion tips.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “The Best Looks to Scavenge this Season.”

ZOE CRICK: “Make Your Own Makeup.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “10 Ways to Wear a Sports Bra.”

ZOE CRICK: Not sure about that one, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay, yeah, there’s probably just one way to wear a sports bra.

ZOE CRICK: As far as I know.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The other ideas were good, though. Well, maybe we should think of other style tips for our listeners.

ZOE CRICK: Why not? [laughs] Here's a song to get our creative juices flowing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, Zoe and I tried to come up with fashion tips, but this isn't our area of expertise.

ZOE CRICK: Speak for yourself.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All your ideas involve drawing cats on things.

ZOE CRICK: That's not true. I also suggested embroidering cats on things.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: My point, listeners, is that maybe Zoe and I could use your help. Send us your post-apocalyptic fashion tips.

ZOE CRICK: We'll be sharing them right after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Welcome back to Radio New Hope, where we're sharing tips on how to stay stylish in the zombie apocalypse.

ZOE CRICK: A lot of the suggestions we've had so far come from runners who need to be able to move quickly, evade zoms, and stay comfortable on long runs.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You might think, as I did only a few minutes ago, that running is not compatible with expressing yourself through fashion, but you'd be wrong.

ZOE CRICK: Indeed, there are lots of ways to have fun with your running gear that don't affect speed or safety. Even if you're out by yourself and no one else can see you, a little bit of flare can lift your mood and make you feel more like yourself.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Running On Sunshine suggests, “Novelty shoe laces are a fun way of adding color to your running outfit. You can often loot them from the children's section of sports or shoe shops, but they're also easy to make from a sturdy ribbon. Use a bit of tape or wax for the aglet.”

ZOE CRICK: Just be sure to tuck your new laces into your shoes the next time you visit the kitten pen.

ZOE CRICK: Today on Radio New Hope, we're taking suggestions on how to jazz up your running gear.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This next step is one for more creative runners, and it comes from Art Rate.

ZOE CRICK: Art Rate?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, like heart rate, because they're a runner, but also an artist.

ZOE CRICK: [sighs] I don't know if we should be reading out people's usernames. We're just encouraging bad puns.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This episode is about self-expression, Zoe, whatever form it takes, even terrible puns.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm. What does Art Rate have to say for themselves?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Decorate your running outfit with permanent marker, embroidery, and whatever embellishments you can get your hands on. As long as your number is still clearly visible to your comms operator, there's no limit to what you can do. Wearing something that truly reflects your personality can give you motivation on the most difficult runs.”

ZOE CRICK: That's a nice idea. I'll forgive the pun.

ZOE CRICK: Progressive Runner writes, “Hi Phil, where did you get a Dream Theater T-shirt? I'm also a fan of prog metal and have been on several runs to find old gig venues to see if there are any T-shirts left. Unfortunately, all I've found are hordes of zombified metal heads. I used to love a good mosh pit before the apocalypse, but it's just not the same when everyone's trying to bite you.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, first off Progressive Runner, please stop putting your life at risk in pursuit of merch. It's not worth it, and that's not what the bands would have wanted.

ZOE CRICK: Especially since they no longer make money from T-shirt sales.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly, which is why I don't mind letting you know that my T-shirt is a fake. Before the apocalypse, touring musicians relied on the merch stand to support themselves, but now that most of them are dead, it's no longer unethical to make knock-offs.

ZOE CRICK: Did you make your T-shirt, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: One of Amelia's stylists did. She's very handy with the fabric paints.

ZOE CRICK: Oh? What did you give her in exchange?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I had to promise to play this next song.

ZOE CRICK: What's our next fashion tip, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, it's more of a PSA. “Hi Phil and Zoe, I run Support Network, a sports bra exchange service. We travel between settlements to provide runners with the best fitting sports bras. Simply visit our message board on ROFFLEnet, tell us which sizes your settlement has and which they need. It might take us a while to get to you, but we have a huge selection of style and color in every size. For some reason, post-apocalyptic Britain has no shortage of sports bras.” That's a great initiative, don't you think, Zoe? [keyboard clicks] Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: Sorry. I was just posting a request to their message board. Fellow sports bra wearers of New Canton, I suggest you do the same.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And while you do that, here's a song about sharing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Our next post-apocalyptic style tip comes from In Stitches, who says, “Here are just a few reasons why knitting is one of the most valuable skills you can learn in the post apocalypse.”

ZOE CRICK: “One, you don't necessarily need to send runners off in search of equipment. Knitting needles can be whittled from sticks, and if your settlement has sheep, wool is a renewable resource.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Two, the act of knitting has many cognitive, therapeutic, and - if you join a knitting circle - social benefits.”

ZOE CRICK: “Three, designing knitting patterns can be a great creative outlet, and since they can be conveyed using just symbols, they can be quickly shared over ROFFLEnet.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Four, larger needles can double as anti-zom weapons, as long as you aim for the eyes and remember to clean the blood off them before you get back to your knitting. The last thing you want is to make an infectious jumper by mistake.”

ZOE CRICK: That's, uh, resourceful. We'll be back with more fashion right after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If knitting's not your thing, our next correspondent has a great idea for making some stylish winter clothes. “Next time you're out on a supply run, make a detour to a toy shop and pick up some plushies. A little reverse taxidermy - "

ZOE CRICK: Oh no!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Plushies aren't real animals, Zoe.

ZOE CRICK: I know, but I couldn't look one in the eye and take out its stuffing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh... our less sensitive listeners can use this method to generate bundles of fake fur, a versatile fabric that'll help you stay warm and, thanks to the pre-apocalyptic trend for cuddly unicorns, colorful.

ZOE CRICK: I think I'll stick with the knitting.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If it makes you feel any better, no plushies were harmed in the making of this next song.

ZOE CRICK: Polished in the Apocalypse says that a manicure adds a splash of color to your running look without impeding your movement.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm surprised we didn't think of that one ourselves. One of Amelia's first acts as prime minister was to open a nail bar at New Canton.

ZOE CRICK: She was accused of extravagance at first, but it's actually become a community hub. People go there to relax and come away feeling a little more, well, polished.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've only just noticed, Zoe, each one of your nails is a different color.

ZOE CRICK: I couldn't choose. Amelia reserves all the Chanel nail polish for herself, but there are still plenty of other varieties for the rest of us.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, the rest of us in New Canton, maybe. What about everyone else?

ZOE CRICK: Until Amelia makes nail bars mandatory for all settlements, why not grab a few bottles of nail polish the next time you're on a low stakes meds run to a chemist? Just be sure to apply it in a well-ventilated area.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: A word of caution now from Nine Fingers, who says, “Jewelry adds sparkle to any outfit and can be a great way of expressing your individuality, especially if you make your own. However, think twice before wearing it on a run. Necklaces are easy for zoms to grab, earrings can be torn out, and rings are a risk if you're using weapons. Trust me.”

ZOE CRICK: Oh dear.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, if you're fond of jewelry, maybe keep it for when you're safe in your settlement.

ZOE CRICK: That’s sound advice. Also - naming no names, Runner Thirty-Seven - don't scavenge jewelry off dead zombies, no matter how on fleek it is. You're asking to get infected. And on that note...

ZOE CRICK: It's not just jewelry that you can enjoy when you're not at risk of zombie attacks.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Loads of our listeners have written in to suggest items you can use if you'd like a more flamboyant settlement look.

ZOE CRICK: Silk flowers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Craft supplies.

ZOE CRICK: Stickers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Fridge magnets.

ZOE CRICK: Christmas decorations.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Basically, listeners, as long as you're not using something that might be better deployed for a more practical purpose, there's no limit to the fun you can have with your personal style.

ZOE CRICK: Speaking of fun, here's a song that always puts a smile on my face.

ZOE CRICK: Our last suggestion comes from Fairy Zom Mother, who writes, “No one has space for a large wardrobe anymore. That doesn't mean you can't wear something special if the occasion demands. It's nice to dress up once in a while, so why not implement a share and swap system at your settlement so people can borrow clothes, shoes, and accessories?”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wonder how long it would take to get that set up in New Canton. I've actually got a special evening planned soon.

ZOE CRICK: Ooh, is it a date?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Maybe? I'll tell you all about it during this next song.

ZOE CRICK: Um, I think the orange ones might be a bit much.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, and we're live.

ZOE CRICK: Sorry about that, listeners. Recently we've learned that there's a way for everyone to express themselves through fashion, even in the post-apocalypse, but we'd like to add that not everyone has to.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's right. Some people don't even bother to brush the cat hair off their jumper before they come to work, and that's just fine.

ZOE CRICK: The cat hair is a deliberate part of my aesthetic, Phil. Our point is that everyone's priorities have changed. Most dress codes died with the apocalypse and few of us mourn them. You're no longer likely to be turned down for a job because you couldn't get your hands on an expensive suit for the interview. Nowadays, people are valued for doing what they do best.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And on that note, let Zoe and I do what we do best and play you a song.

ZOE CRICK: Until next time, listeners.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello again, citizens.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, before you say anything else, there's something important we need to discuss.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is this about getting a pet for the show again? Because I thought we settled that.

ZOE CRICK: We haven't, but no, this is about something very upsetting I found on ROFFLEnet today.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, the Radio New Hope fanfic? Hmm. There's one of you and me being turned into zoms on air that is both deeply disturbing and shockingly well-written.

ZOE CRICK: Again, no. What I found is a thread on ROFFLEnet called “Radio New Hope Has Changed” full of people - well, full of two people - who think we've lost our touch. Look, Just_Saying_108 says, “It breaks my heart. Zoe and Phil aren't what they used to be.” And then Radio_No_Hope says, “It all started when they got into bed with Amelia.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm assuming in my case they mean metaphorically.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, we need to take this seriously. If our listeners aren't happy, we're not happy.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's only two people, Zoe.

ZOE CRICK: That's two too many.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Actually, I've got an idea.

ZOE CRICK: Wonderful, I knew you'd think of something. Tell me right after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, some of you think we've changed, and while change can be good, we want to make sure we're still giving you the content you deserve.

ZOE CRICK: That sounds vaguely threatening.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's why we're going to crowdsource our content again. I have reopened our inbox for suggestions on what Radio New Hope should do next. We're open to anything. Except turning zom on air.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, nobody's going to ask for that.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You haven't seen the comments on that Radio New Hope fanfic. Anyway, listeners, please send in your thoughts. Who knows? Your idea might become our next segment.

ZOE CRICK: We did get some great suggestions last time. It'll be good to round up some new ones.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly! Now everyone put your thinking caps on, and here's a song to get you in a creative mood.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right, listeners, it's time to open the suggestion box and find out what you'd like to hear on Radio New Hope... Huh.

ZOE CRICK: Is that it? I thought we'd get a few more suggestions.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, maybe it's a sign we're not so bad after all.

ZOE CRICK: No, we can't get complacent. Some listeners aren't happy with us.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Two listeners.

ZOE CRICK: It's just that with all that ROFFLEnet talk of us having changed, I thought we'd get a bit more feedback. Still, we'll go with what we've got.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We need to drumroll first.

ZOE CRICK: Seriously?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: There are few things in life that can’t be improved with a drumroll. Scientific fact.

ZOE CRICK: Fine. Drumroll, please.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [mutters rapidly] Drumroll drumroll drumroll drum drum drum drum drum cymbal!

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Zom_Truther writes, “What if you ate some of that red fungus live on air? We know the prime minister is lying about the danger and hoarding it for herself.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, that's a bad idea. What did I say about us not turning zom on air?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, Truther, we're not going to eat red fungus. Amelia isn't lying... about that, at least.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's right. And uh, please don't test your theory out for yourself.

ZOE CRICK: We'll be back with more of your hopefully less reckless suggestions after this song.

ZOE CRICK: Time for another look at our surprisingly meager suggestion box. Come on now, we know you have great ideas, so send them in. This one from Zombologist. “I love that doctor advice show - ”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The Drs. Maxine and Paula one? Us, too. Listeners, if you're not tuning in to that show as well as ours, you're missing out.

ZOE CRICK: Definitely. Anyway, the letter says, “I love that doctor advice show, but they only focus on the bodies and minds of the living. What about the study of zombies? I think you should bring a zombie into the studio and do some tests. I have a few experiments in mind. See attached for details.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh... Oh, that's... Was that diagram the right way up? How would that even work?

ZOE CRICK: I'm not sure, but I think those are electrodes, or possibly poisonous snakes? Either way, Zombologist, we have a pretty strict no zoms in the studio policy.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What can we do? Hands tied.

ZOE CRICK: Much like the zom in that illustration, I think.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, that's about as close as I want to come to that scenario. Let's clear it from our minds with this song.

ZOE CRICK: Well listeners, a few more suggestions trickled in during that last song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We are seriously considering some of the less extreme ones, such as an interview with King Jamie or a Z-Day retrospective.

ZOE CRICK: This one is from Inquiring_Mindz - with a Z, naturally. “What about a show that gives a look at the human side of politics?”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So far, so good. At least there are no zombies involved.

ZOE CRICK: “I'd love for us to get a closer look at Prime Minister Spens’ flat. It must be lovely. She has marvelous taste, after all.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Let me see that. [paper rustles] “You could describe the art, the architecture, any documents that are lying around, the paint, the paint colors, any plans you might find in the drawers...”

ZOE CRICK: Come on now, Inquiring, you're asking us to spy on Amelia. Even if I did do that - which, of course, I wouldn't - there's no way I'd out myself by sharing it on air.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: How restrained of you.

ZOE CRICK: What can I say? I prefer not to incur the wrath of the most powerful woman in the country. Nice try, Inquiring, but we're broadcasters, not espionage agents. And that's all of them, right?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right. Right, thanks to everyone for your suggestions. Uh, even the more... creative ones. Let's celebrate your ingenuity with this next number.

ZOE CRICK: You'll never guess what.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm sure I won't.

ZOE CRICK: You weren't a very funny child, were you? I went back on ROFFLEnet to see if that thread had more positive things to say about us now that we've been through the suggestion box. However, turns out I misinterpreted the whole thing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So people don't think Radio New Hope has changed for the worse?

ZOE CRICK: They do, but it's not the broadcasts they think have changed, it's us. They think we're doppelgängers.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Like Zoe and Phil's evil twins?

ZOE CRICK: Exactly. It's not clear if they think we've been brainwashed into thinking we're real Zoe and Phil or if we're in on it, but Radio_No_Hope says, “There's no way Amelia would allow a free press unless she could control it, and that means controlling Phil and Zoe.”

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, they do have a point, but ci-ti-zens, do not fear, we have not been replaced by ourselves.

ZOE CRICK: How do you know?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What do you mean, how do I know? I know who I am.

ZOE CRICK: Or do you? What if you just think you do? Listeners, we'll get to the bottom of it right after this next song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Let me get this straight. You think I could have been replaced by a double without you noticing? You noticed when I changed my hair parting last month.

ZOE CRICK: Now that I think about it, that could have been a sign you were Phil 2.0.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hmm. If that's the case, anything could be a sign. How do I know you're not Evil Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: My name's still spelled with a Z. Evil Zoe would definitely swap out the Z for an X... I think.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You're not sure?

ZOE CRICK: Radio No Hope said it. There could be brainwashing involved.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So let me get this straight. You think Amelia found doppelgängers of us?

ZOE CRICK: Or cloned us. Always a possibility.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Of course, and then she brainwashed said doppel-clones because - ?

ZOE CRICK: Because she wants to control the press. Although there might be an even more devious reason. We are talking about Amelia, after all. I'll think it over during this next song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Have you figured out why Amelia might possibly want to replace us with brainwashed clones?

ZOE CRICK: No. I mean, yes, but one of the reasons only works if we meet the clones, and the other one requires mint and a trampoline. I wonder if the fact that I can't figure it out is a symptom of the brainwashing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's convenient.

ZOE CRICK: And I wonder when it began. Do you think it all started when Amelia gave us this hideous red furniture?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Green.

ZOE CRICK: What?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hideous green furniture.

ZOE CRICK: I don't know what you're talking about. The furniture is red. Maybe new Phil is colorblind?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You're kidding, right? It’s green.

ZOE CRICK: Am I kidding, or are you different now?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You know what? There's an easy way to settle this. I'm going to ask someone who has been in here what color the furniture is. Don't you move. Just, uh, play a song and I'll be right back.

[door opens]

ZOE CRICK: [giggles] Now that he's gone, listeners, between you and me, the couches are definitely green. I know that was a tiny bit rotten of me, but I couldn't resist. While we wait for Phil's triumphant return, here's a song that any version of me would love.

[door opens]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh my God, you're right.

ZOE CRICK: Right about what?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: About the doppelgängers. Everyone confirmed it. The furniture in here's red, but I see green, so I must be colorblind now. Maybe all clones are.

ZOE CRICK: Wait, who did you ask?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, Nadia, Runner Thirty-Seven. They said it's red. Now that I'm a clone, I wonder if I still like the same foods. Remind me, how do I feel about jam?

ZOE CRICK: You're... you're joking, right? Because the couches are green. I was just pulling your leg.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wait, so you see them as green, too? Maybe we're both clones.

ZOE CRICK: I guess. I -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Or maybe we're from an alternate reality, one where people don't play pranks on their lovely radio cohosts because they might get paid back in spades!

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] You - you almost had me going there! [sighs] Well, I guess I might have deserved it. A little.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: A little?

ZOE CRICK: Oh, no comment. All I can say is that I'm happy in this universe with the best cohost ever. This next song is for you, Phil, because you're one of a kind.

ZOE CRICK: That whole business with the doppelgängers has got me thinking, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not again.

ZOE CRICK: No, not that we're clones or anything like that. I've been thinking about conspiracy theories. Do you think there are more of them now after Z-Day?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Probably. Look at all the things we've gone through. Uh, Sigrid, Moonchild, the Curly Wurly shortage. That's enough to make anyone a little paranoid.

ZOE CRICK: I don't know. I think maybe it's the opposite. All of the conspiracies since Z-Day were eventually exposed. Even if we were replaced by clones, someone would find out and tell people about it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You have a point. Kind of reassuring in a way.

ZOE CRICK: I hope so. For the concerned ROFFLEnet folks, don't worry. If Phil and I are ever replaced by clones, you'll find out about it soon enough, probably from someone at Abel.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Very true. We're counting on you, Runner Five.

ZOE CRICK: And if the worst should occur, avenge us!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But in the meantime, we hope all of you carry on enjoying Radio New Hope with the real Phil and Zoe. This one's for everyone who's dedicated to staying true to themselves.

#zombies run #zrs8 #s8 radio #s8 radio part 5 #zr transcript

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make-me-imagine · 5 years

Text

Maze of Horrors

🎃13 Days of Halloween: Day 13

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

Prompts: “Don’t Touch Me” “I Didn’t”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Gender: Neutral Triggers: Ghosts, Fighting, etc

Theme: Mostly Humor with some Action/Angst

Note: Happy Halloween!! I hope you enjoyed the series so far. And I know I already did this prompt a few days ago with Eddie/Venom, but it was the only request I had a good enough idea for. So I hope you like it. Note 2: Thank you all for submitted requests for this series! I am sorry I can’t do them all, but I hope you guys like the ones I did write.

The adrenaline rushed through you as you and Dean sprinted down the road, having just lost the sight of the monster you were hunting. Luckily having cut it on the leg with your knife, you could still see the blood trail it left behind. You breathed heavily as you ran, your breath visible in the cold night air.

The two of you followed the trail a couple blocks down, passing some roads with parents and their dressed-up kids, laughing and running from house to house. Rounding another corner you ended up on a dark and empty street. The two of you stopped running, trying to listen for the creature as you looked around the area “Yeah ‘cause this isn’t creepy” Dean muttered, the only sound audible, as the rest of the area was eerily still.

The two of you headed up the street, a few moments passing before you heard a trashcan nearby fall over with a loud crash. you and Dean spun around, blades pointed, ready. Seeing a raccoon run off you let out a breathy chuckle as Dean sighed in annoyance as the two of you continued up the long road. Turning around the next corner, you followed the blood trail before it lead to a large door that had been effectively broken down by the creature.

Looking up, you studied the large neon colored building, large comic pictures of clowns and monsters painted the walls “Doctor Bloodhounds Crazy Halloween Maze?” Dean read aloud, looking under the sign you saw a multitude of keep out signs, ‘construction work’ signs, and caution tape.

“You’ve got to be kidding me” you muttered, shining the light at one of the large clown paintings you glanced over at Dean “Sam will definitely be glad he’s not here now”

Dean smirked at you before the two of you approached the building, cautiously stepping inside. You were immediately met with an obnoxious hallway covered in black and white spirals and fake blood. The two of you trailed down the hallway, effectively loosing your trail among all the fake blood lining the walls and floor.

At the end of the hall, it split into two paths, left and right. Glancing down the left you looked at the floor, seeing the foot of someone “Dean” you whispered, gaining his attention. The two of you crept closer before rounding the corner quickly, ready to attack if needed.

The body on the ground was that of an ordinary man, now covered in blood, his throat slashed. Dean walked over to him, checking his pockets as you watched the doorways. Pulling out an ID and a business card he read it out “Owen Thompson, Owner of Doctor Bloodhounds Crazy Halloween Maze”

You frowned at the man on the ground“What was he even doing here?” you wondered out loud “It’s nearly 10pm and the signs outside say this place isn’t even working”

Just as you finished speaking the lights flickered on, causing you and Dean to stand defensively, slow circus-like music began to play over the speakers as various noises could be heard. Clown-like laughter, screams and loud bangs.

“Son of a bitch” Dean muttered under his breath “It’s playing with us now”

“It’s probably watching us too” you pointed your knife at one of the security cameras before looking over at Dean.

“Come on” he said before turning, the two of you entering into another hallway.

It seemed like the two of you wondered around forever before entering a wide long hallway, covered in fake spiders and spider webs, each wall lined with long curtains. The lights were dark and flashing, it was near impossible to see anything. Walking down the hall first you looked at the ceiling, frowning at the plastic and contorted faces peaking from various holes in the roof.

Feeling a hand brush your wrist you looked down, seeing nothing, and no mannequins to have brushed upon. Must have been Dean, he was directly behind you, staying close.

Continuing down the hall you passed a small cupboard, quickly opening it just in case you were almost relieved to find nothing. You began to back up, moving towards one of the curtains as you felt something brush your back.

You ignored it as Dean brushed by you, thinking it was just him. He eyed a small group of zombie-esque mannequins, jumping slightly when one groaned suddenly due to his closeness. You walked past him and further down the hall.

As you looked through the doorway in front of you, you saw a split hallway coming up. Feeling something brush against you and a quick breath you shivered slightly “Dean, don’t touch me, you keep making me jump”

Dean looked up from the ground, having been trying to decipher if any of the blood splatters on the ground were real. You were near five feet in front of him, his voice was serious “I didn’t”

Noticing his voice was at a distance you turned and stared at him for a moment. Just as you were going to turn and pull away one of the curtains a sudden yell came, pushing you into the other wall. The creature had been in the same hall, hiding from you behind the curtains. Classic.

As you stumbled Dean ran past you chasing the monster as it sprinted down the hall and to the right. You quickly ran after the two of them, cursing yourself for not having been more cautious.

After rounding a couple corners you caught up to Dean who cursed to himself “That thing is fast, I lost it again”.

The two of you remained on guard as you walked through the maze, eyeing every mannequin you passed closely. Entering into a round room, similar to a bunker, there were a total of four exits. As you walked to the center of the room, a hatch above you opened as a large spider dropped from the ceiling.

You yelped and jumped back as Dean cursed under his breath, another loud cackle could be heard over the speakers “I hate Halloween” Dean said before he looked at each door.

“Should we split up?” you suggested.

Dean remained quiet for a moment “We don’t even know if it’s still here” he admitted “Okay, you go through one of those doors, I’ll go this way. Try to find the door to the security room. If it’s not there, we can at least check the cameras to see where it is, or if it’s even still here”

You nodded “Got it” you headed towards the right-most door before Dean grabbed your hand suddenly.

Looking back at him he took a step closer to you “Be careful”

“I always am” you smiled before squeezing his hand lightly and letting go, heading through the doorway. Dean watching you as you left, worry filling his gut, before he forced himself to walk down another path.

Slowly moving down the hall, you wondered why it was so empty compared to the others. Maybe this is where they are doing construction? Turning left down the next hall you paused. The walls, floor and roof were all mirrors. Walking cautiously, you prepared yourself for something to jump out at you. Passing safely through you let out a relieved sigh before whispering to yourself “I’ve always hated this crap”, hearing a loud noise down the hall you froze.

It took you a moment to decide that the noise didn’t come from the speakers, but instead was made by something nearby. Raising your knife up you walked as silently as you could down the hall, approaching a black curtain that draped from the roof to the floor.

Everything in your gut told you there was something on the other side and you knew it was waiting for you. Preparing yourself for whatever would come you stretched out the hand with the knife, using the blade to move the curtain from your view, peaking behind the black cloth.

As soon as you did this, a large figure lunged out towards you, a loud scream coming from it. You yelled out, quickly lunging your knife forward into the object. It took you a moment to realize that you had just stuck your knife through the head of a plastic clown.

Just as you let out a large breath trying to calm yourself, you were taken by surprise again when large arms wrapped around you from behind. This time, by a living creature.

Immediately trying to fight back you manage to throw the monster over your shoulder, dropping your knife in the process as the monster grabbed your legs and pulled you to the ground. The monster jumped on top of you as you struggled against it. The creature appeared mostly human except for it’s sharp blade like teeth, pale skin and yellow eyes. It’s long nailed hand moved to your throat as you threw your fist up, hitting the monster in the throat. As it choked in surprise you took the opportunity to bring your leg up and around the monsters head and stretching it across its chest before sitting up, pushing the monster down into it’s back as you reached for your knife.

The monster yelled in anger as it struggled to get up, unfortunately for you, it was bigger, and stronger. Your hand just missed grabbing the handle of your blade as the monster grabbed your legs and threw you off of it.

Quickly standing, the monster tackled you into the nearby mirrored wall. Your impact was strong enough to crack the glass, a few pieces falling to the floor. Kneeing the monster in the stomach you pushed it into the opposite wall before throwing yourself to the ground towards your knife.

You grabbed the knife, spinning around, slashing toward the monster. A silver blade blessed in holy water and doused in a mixture of hollyhock and nightshade stabbed through the heart. The only thing that would kill it.

Managing to cut the creature across the chest it yelled out before barreling down on you, grabbing your head and slamming it into the ground, leaving you in nothing but dark unconsciousness.

Dean moved down the halls, at first he was cautious, but as more and more jump scares came he grew aggravated. Just as another mannequin jumped forward, releasing a witch-like cackle dean grabbed the mannequin in anger before ripping it up from its base and throwing it down in anger “God I hate these things” he muttered to himself as he continued down a hall.

Hearing a yell in the distance that sounded too much like you, Dean stopped in his tracks, only hesitating for a moment before he ran back the way he came, trying to make his way to you as quickly as he could.

Entering into the bunker area from before he quickly ran through the doorway he had last seen you in. Rounding the second corner he paused at the mirrored hallway before seeing your blade lying on the ground at the end of the hall.

Quickly running to it he looked down the hall, seeing nothing. Turning, his eyes caught on the broken glass. You had definitely fought with the monster. Just as he was turning away his eyes caught on something else.

One of the mirrored walls was too far forward, as he approached he realized it was a hidden door. Quickly sliding it open he lunged inside, expecting to find you or the monster. But found nothing but an empty security room. His eyes moved to the computer screens, every security camera angle. His eyes darted from one screen to the next before he found what he was looking for,

The monster was dragging you by your feet down a hall, you were unconscious, or dead. That thought alone sent a chill through Deans heart before he was overwhelmed with fear and anger. Running out of the security room he moved down the hall, past the clown mannequin with a hole in it’s head, through the black curtain and towards you, tying to ignore the blood stains dragging along the tile that he knew came from one of you.

You woke up slowly, feeling yourself moving, but knowing you weren’t walking. As you opened your eyes, you were first aware of the pounding pain in your head, and then you saw the roof above you moving over you. As you slowly came to your senses you looked up, seeing the monster dragging you along. You tried to think of what to do, you didn’t have your blade anymore, what could you do?

Seeing the monster turning it’s head you quickly lied back down, pretending to be unconscious again as you tried to come up with a plan.

The monster drug you for a few more minutes before you heard a door opening, as you were painfully dragged down a couple steps, you realized you were outside of the building as the night air chilled you.

You felt the monster drop your legs before grunting a couple of times. You waited, not knowing if it was still looking at you. Hearing it distance itself slightly, you peaked your eyes open, seeing the monsters back turned to you as it looked around the area. Looking around you, you saw a broken wooden 2x4 on the ground. Silently rising, ignoring the aching pain in your head, you grabbed the plank from the ground.

The monster, hearing movement spun around violently, surprised by your sudden movements. Swinging the plank as hard as you could you smacked the monster across the head knocking it to the ground.

At the same time you were doing this, you heard the door behind you swing open and Dean calling your name. As you heard him running towards you from behind the monster threw himself forward, tackling you.

Dean quickly grabbed the monster from behind before thrusting his blade into the monsters heart. The monster slumped down as it let out a painful gurgle before it’s body became motionless.

Throwing the monsters body away from you and onto the ground you staggered backwards, as your head pounded and your vision swayed. Dean quickly steadied you, moving you to sit down on the steps.

He crouched down in front of you, seeing you move your hand to place it on the back of your head. You winced as you brought your hand back, your hand covered in blood.

Dean frowned as he gently moved your head down, looking at the wound “You’ll need a couple stitches, and you probably have a concussion, but you’ll be fine” You sighed as you closed your eyes tightly, trying to will the pain away. Deans hands gently cupped your face. Opening your eyes you met his concerned ones, he stared at you for a moment before a gentle smile crossed his face “What happened to you always being careful?”

You stared at him for a moment, your mind flashing back to the moment you let your guard down. “I got jump-scared by a clown and stabbed it in the face” you said with a blank expression and serous tone.

Dean paused for a second before he laughed out loud, shaking his head, you smiled lightly at his amusement “God I love you” he said through chuckles, before he moved forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead “Now lets get out of here” he glanced back at the monster, that was already beginning to melt away into a gross green goo. The two of you grimaced at the sight before Dean wrapped a supportive arm around you.

As you moved around to the front of the building you looked back at it before hearing the distant cacophony of “trick-or-treat!” and children's laughter. Two completely different worlds so close to colliding, you let out a small sigh before muttering out “Happy Halloween”.

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m00nslippers · 5 years

Note

In a dream world where we are getting a Red Hood live action trilogy, how would you want the three movies to be? Like what plotlines, characters, villians, what arc to develop, how to present his character to appeal to the general audience and such :D

Oh man, this is an interesting question.

Well first of all, this might sound strange, but I absolutely do not think that Under the Red Hood should be adapted to Live Action. I believe this because it already exists in animated form and is perfect. No live-action remake is going to compare unless they recreate it scene by scene and they never will. The dialogue is too good, it cannot be made better, only worse. So, that being said, RH1 should not be a retelling of UtRH, rather that movie/storyline should exist as backstory for the first Red Hood movie. They should communicate the events of that story without retelling it wholesale as the plot in the movie. They should also go ahead and go with the Lazarus Pit explanation of Jason’s resurrection because the superboy-smashing-the-universe thing is too vague and requires more context than a standalone movie can really provide. I would amend it though so that it’s actually more like Arkham Knight games, in that Joker had Jason for over six months torturing him before he finally killed Jason and sent the tape to Bruce. At that point, Ra’s and Talia got a hold of Jason’s body and resurrected him.

I have a really solid idea for the first movie, a more vague idea for the second one and a really vague idea for the last one. I’ll write you guys the synopsis of the first one up here.

Red Hood Movie 1

So, the movie opens on some brief scenes of a seemingly ordinary guy as he goes through his day. He wears blue collar clothes with a leather jacket thrown over the top, rides his motorcycle to work and stops to give money to a homeless guy on the street. He works construction or something, shows himself to be really smart and maybe a little over-competent for his job, he can jump down from high beams like he’s an acrobat, he does complex math in his head, but when colleagues ask how he knows so much he just plays it off. He seems friendly but he’s secretive, keeps to himself. He goes home from work, he’s the only one there, he works out, punches a punching bag, he checks a secret compartment in his house to make sure no one has tampered with it, but we don’t see what’s inside. He eats alone and when it gets dark he walks a ways to a local dive and sits in the corner until a red-headed friend comes in.

He and the friend bullshit together, clearly they’re close. His friend asks if he’ll babysit his daughter so he can work on a case, he says sure. They’re in the middle of talking about the daughter when something on one of the televisions playing in the bar catches his eye. It’s a breaking news feed of an Arkham breakout in Gotham City, with the building on fire, lead by the Joker. He flinches and you see this snarl of twisted fear and rage and his friend reaches out to grab his arm. “Jason, don’t. He doesn’t have to be your problem. You don’t owe Gotham anything.” And Jason looks Roy in the face and says, “Gotham owes me everything. And I’m going to get my payback.”

Jason leaves the bar, goes home, opens the secret compartment–it’s full of guns and all of his Red Hood gear. He packs it up and leaves on his motorcycle bound for Gotham.

Switch over to Bruce being Brucie at a WE function for a charity. He’s called up to give a speech and he talks about how his second son was a boy from Gotham’s streets who’d been exceptional but just didn’t have the opportunities because of his poor background. Unfortunately he was dead in a tragic accident, but Bruce had dedicated this charity in his name for underprivileged youth to fund scholarships and community support, etc. He steps down and has to glad-hand some people until his phone vibrates and he looks at the screen. It’s Oracle telling him there’s a Gotham break out.

Bruce slips away and he’s in the Batcave putting on his Batman gear as Alfred and Barbara–over the computer–fills him in on what’s going on and talks about how most everyone is out of Gotham at the moment, it’s just Bruce and Oracle, and asks Bruce if he wants Alfred to call in Nightwing or someone else for help. Bruce says no he wants them to stay out of it as he’s looking at the Memorial case of Jason’s Robin costume that’s still damaged. Alfred reminds him that since it’s the Joker, Jason is bound to appear, Bruce just grunts and says he’ll deal with that problem as it comes and has Oracle on the look out for any activity from either of them.

Bruce shows up at Arkham and talks to Gordon briefly, who tells him there’s a riot going on inside and they’ve already confirmed the warden had been murdered. Bruce busts in and starts kicking butt and capturing everyone, getting various people to safety that he finds as he makes his way through the building. All the while Oracle is giving him tech support. Bruce finds Joker’s cell but it’s been broken open. Suddenly he thinks he sees joker and and chases him down, capturing him but it turns out it’s just another inmate dressed like him–there’s a whole bunch of fake Jokers running around the building. Oracle tells him they’ll never be able to confirm if it’s really him from cameras alone like this and Bruce has to admit that’s true. But also says the Joker is probably already long gone, and they need to stop worrying about containment and start searching the city for him.

Cut to Jason riding into Gotham. He opens up a derelict safehouse with yet more guns and suits up and hits the streets. Everywhere he goes, he sees flashes of memories–of him as a kid on the streets, of Bruce catching him stealing the tires from the batmobile, him as Robin, him fighting Bruce as Red Hood. He questions homeless people and hookers and roughs up some dealers. They all know him, they’re all afraid, he’s the King of Crime Alley and remember when he ran out Black Mask. After some investigating, someone tells him a certain crime family’s men were hired to riot outside of Arkham and sow even more chaos.

Jason attacks the guy in his big mansion, mowing down hoards of mobsters with guns, all to get to the head guy and question him. He says Joker put out the word he wanted some grunts to help with the breakout and Black Mask had done a deal with him to provide men. The head mobster is Black mask’s man outside of Blackgate prison. The meeting was held in Gotham’s abandoned Amusement Mile between Joker and Roman’s proxies. Jason kills the mobster and leaves for the place he mentioned.

As Jason is on his way, someone hacks into the comms on his helmet–it’s Barbara, she found him after the attack on the mobsters–and she’s trying to get Jason to stop and leave Gotham. He and Bruce had a truce, that Jason would say out of Gotham and stop being Red Hood. Jason says that truce ended when he let Joker escape and now he’s going to kill him. Barbara says he’s not the only person Joker hurt, we see her in the Clocktower in her wheel chair with a picture of her and Gordon. Jason says he’ll kill Joker for both of them. Barbara says she’d rather the Joker be alive than Jason dead at his hands, and Jason says, well that’s where they differ.

Jason investigates the place, an empty funhouse or something. Down a hallway he thinks he sees the Joker and he runs after him but there’s no one there. He keeps seeing images of when he got captured by the Joker in the mirror, sees his younger self bloodied and dead. He’s getting increasingly unhinged. Then Bruce appears as Batman, tells Jason he broke their truce, he came back to Gotham and he killed people, but Bruce is willing to overlook it if he just leaves. Jason goes into his issues with Bruce, about how that’s his problem, he’s unwilling to go as far as necessary to really protect people. About how if Bruce had killed Joker from the beginning, Jason wouldn’t have died or become what he is, and Barbara wouldn’t be in a wheelchair, and all the people who died in the Arkham break out would still be alive.

Jason attacks Bruce, they have a huge badass fight. They are mostly fighting to a draw but they are both getting heavily injured. In the middle of their fight they think they see joker and Jason cuts off Bruce’s path and goes after him alone–only to get clocked with a crowbar from behind and dragged off.

Bruce finally makes it around to where Jason ran off only to a smear of blood on the ground that he runs through the computer and is told belongs to Jason by Alfred. Spray painted next to it is a Joker smile and the location where Jason first tried to get Bruce to murder the Joker.

Bruce goes to the location and finds the Joker there with Jason completely beat up and tied down. “Remember this Batsy? It was a fun little game, wasn’t it? It really had potential.” He’s missed his broken bird in Arkham and getting out has made him feel nostalgic, but alas he has better things to do, so it’s time to tie up this loose end for once and for all. He doesn’t need Red Hood getting between batman and his games, so he’s going to play one final round, winner takes all. “I think we should play again, but this time with a twist,” he says. Joker has set up Bruce to kill him or he’s going to kill Jason again–he’s like you can’t do it can you? Not even for your little robin. So he’s going to die–again.

The confrontation ends exactly like it did in Under the Red hood. Bruce throws a batarang that slits Joker’s throat but doesn’t outright kill him. Joker runs away laughing as Bruce goes to Jason, with Jason weeping and telling him to go after the Joker. Bruce refuses and says Jason’s injuries are more important. He tries to take him to the manor and Jason says no, he refuses to go there, to take him to a hospital. Bruce says if he goes there Red Hood will be arrested for killing the gangster. Jason doesn’t care, he refuses to have anything to do with a father who chooses the joker over his own son twice, he doesn’t get to treat his wounds and act like not going after the Joker was him saving Jason. it was just him betraying Jason yet again.

The last scene is Roy visiting Jason in Blackgate prison. He shows him home videos of Lian and brings him crayon pictures from her. He tells Jason if he ever wants out, just to say, but Jay says no, he’s got some unfinished business to handle. We see Black Mask, also there in the prison…

The End.

—

So pretty much the first movie has the Joker as the main villain in a re-working of the UtRH story, pretty typical Jason stuff.

The second one is where things are a lot less typical and almost brand new and not from the comics because let’s face it–Jason doesn’t have a lot of good stories that don’t involve the Joker. In the second movie Jason is in prison for most of the plot. And the villain? Astrid Arkham, who is the Arkham Knight. How does that work, you may wonder. Oh I have ideas and it’s twisty~ If you guys want to know how I think that one would go, I’ll write it up later.

The third one I’m thinking a League of Assassins thing. Basically Talia comes to Jason to try to get him to lead the league and we find out a lot about the circumstances of Jason’s death and resurrection and training. I’m much less sure about the exact plot for this one, but I think by the end of it Jason should finally forgive Bruce enough to go home and stop killing.

#Red Hood #Jason Todd #red hood movie #Under the Hood #Batman: Under The Red Hood #Bruce Wayne #Batman #oracle #barbara gordon #batgirl #Joker #dc comics #headcanon #movie ideas

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ridiasfangirlings · 5 years

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Concept: Fushimi is the first to say 'I love you.' Yata's reaction?

Slight apologies to the anon who asked this, I was deliberately saving this one for Sarumi Fest. Hope the small fic makes up for it ^^

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“….This is boring,” Fushimi clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat as he glanced over at Yata. The movie theater was nearly empty save for the two of them, side by side in the very back row. It was a hot day even for July and they’d taken refuge inside the theater just to enjoy the air conditioning, grabbing tickets for whatever happened to be playing.

That ‘whatever happened to be playing’ was a sappy romance movie had presumably not been intentional, judging from the way Yata had spent the last half an hour or so with his hands over his eyes and his face bright red even in the dim light of the theater.

“D-did she put her clothes back on yet?” Yata had shrunk back in the chair, popcorn stuck to his shirt, still in the same position he’d been in ever since the sex scene had started.

“Yes,” Fushimi said, even though the actress hadn’t. Yata carefully removed one hand and then gave a small scream as the movie screen filled with a close up of the actress’s naked breasts.

“S-Saruhiko!”

“Don’t be such a virgin, Misaki.” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, crossing his arms and staring down at his PDA. “You chose this movie, right?”

“I didn’t know it was a—a–” Yata groaned and threw his head back. “What the hell was that guy at the front counter thinking anyway? We’re kids, we shouldn’t be watching this kind of stuff! Right?”

Fushimi just shrugged in reply, focused on his PDA. The couple onscreen cuddled in bed and Fushimi rolled his eyes.

“This is stupid.”

“Let’s go then.” Yata risked opening an eye to reach out and tug on his sleeve. “We can go back to my place and play video games, okay?”

“It’s too hot for that.” Fushimi didn’t even look up.

“I’m sure Mom’s got the fan going.” There was a slight pause. “Or we could go back to your place–”

“No.” Flat and final,enough that even an idiot like Misaki couldn’t miss the undertone. “This is fine.”

“But–”

“The movie’s almost over, right?” Fushimi said curtly. “At least it’s cool in here.”

“You really don’t like hot weather, huh?” Yata sighed, looking back at the movie screen now that everyone was fully clothed again. “Hey, I bet if we hide in here they won’t even notice if we stick around for the next movie. Maybe it’ll cool down outside by then and we can go back to my place.”

“We.” Fushimi said the word softly under his breath, as if testing it. Yata was looking at him with a bright open smile and Fushimi’s gaze traveled back to the movie screen. “Your mom doesn’t like you having people sleep over when there’s school tomorrow, I thought.”

“She won’t mind if it’s you.” Yata leaned on the arm rest and if Fushimi turned his head there would be only inches of space between them. “Saruhiko….it’s too hot to spend the night by yourself, right? We could stop by the convenience store on the way home and look for another fan, then we’ll have two in my room and it’ll be cool enough for both of us.”

“….Fine.” Fushimi’s eyes slid back down to his PDA, but he could hear Yata’s smile without even seeing it. Yata had begun to feel that way for him, lately – bright like a sun he couldn’t quite grasp, wild emotions that Fushimi could almost feel as if they were rays of heat pressing against his skin.

“All right! What movie do you think’ll be playing next? There’s gotta be an action movie playing some time, they can’t play this sappy stuff again and again all day.”

“I love you.” The actress on screen was speaking again and Fushimi felt a small spike of annoyance, that her voice was drowning out Misaki’s.

It was too too hot out, and Misaki was right there next to him. Later they’d go back to Misaki’s house and Fushimi would be able to sleep for the night. Then they could walk to school together, or skip if Fushimi didn’t feel like going. If he was feeling under the weather Misaki would argue with his mother about staying home to keep an eye on him, and make an ice pack and porridge with pineapples for him to eat.

Lazy, unconcerned days that went on and on, and had been for what seemed like a long time now. Sometimes Fushimi could almost forget it, that big empty house and those wide empty rooms, and laughter that froze his blood and echoed from wall to wall. As long as Misaki was here, it felt like these days could go on forever and Fushimi wouldn’t mind at all.

“I’ve always loved you. Without you….I haven’t got anyone!” Tears were falling from the actress’s eyes, fake and melodramatic, and Fushimi saw Yata shifting beside him with an irritated face. The words sounded flat to Fushimi’s ears, and foreign – what did that kind of thing mean anyway, confessions of love? It was a stupid thing to get so worked up over. The characters onscreen embraced, and Fushimi clicked his tongue and watched Yata from the corner of his eye.

Yata smiled back at him and Fushimi’s heart fluttered, just a bit.

–

The room was dark and quiet, the only sounds the soft insistent hum of the fans and Yata’s steady breathing.

It was too hot to sleep on the floor, Yata had decided. Fushimi always took the bed – even though it was Yata’s, but Yata never complained after the first time – so there was really only one choice.

Fushimi stared at Yata’s back in front of him, Yata’s hair that was tousled against the pillow, and one hand started to reach up to touch the edge of those strands for just a moment before Fushimi forced it back down.

They’d hid in the theater for three different movies, and it had been the same romance each time. The second time a group of teenagers had filled the theater in front of them and Yata had spent the majority of the movie hiding behind his seat and complaining that they should go to another theater. Fushimi had refused just because it felt like too much effort, and because it was fun watching Misaki squirm and blush like a little kid.

Hazy images flashed through his mind, of an actor and actress tangled in bedsheets, foreign words on perfectly made-up lips.

Fushimi didn’t really know what those words meant. No one had ever said them to him, even from the very start. He’d assumed that emotion was something meant for other people, not for him. It was a weak thing, anyway. The movies always acted like it was an amazing thing but really, all it did was open you up to being torn apart from the inside. All it did was build up a garden that wouldn’t even grow, that would burn down before a single flower could take root.

Yata murmured something in his sleep and rolled over. His bangs were covering his eyes, and this time Fushimi couldn’t stop himself from brushing them aside. Yata stirred a little in his sleep, and smiled, but didn’t wake up.

Fushimi felt the fluttering in his chest again, the longing he hadn’t thought existed inside of him. Of course it was stupid. Of course it would all burn into ash. This wasn’t a movie, and he wasn’t the type of person who could ever be a romantic hero.

Fushimi inched himself a little closer to Misaki, head inclined, and if he moved just a little bit more their foreheads would have touched.

“I love you.” He mouthed the words, but he didn’t say it.

–

“Seriously, Saruhiko, why don’t you guys have a summer uniform or something? Is your King an idiot?”

“Shut up.” Fushimi’s voice was only a dry croak, eyes closed as Yata pressed a cool palm against his forehead. Fushimi tried to bat him away but his limbs didn’t seem to want to obey, weak and clammy as if they weren’t his own, and he lay there limp against the couch.

“Did you drink anything today? Hey, Saruhiko, are you listening?” Yata pressed another hand against his cheek and Fushimi could feel the heat gathering there like a small burning fire. Really, it was bad enough that he’d fainted on patrol, he had no idea why Akiyama and Benzai had decided the best course of action was to call Misaki of all people.

“I’ll take care of him.” Misaki had shown up too, like a parent picking up a sickly child early from school. He’d half-carried Fushimi back to their apartment and laid him on the couch and fussed over him for at least ten minutes now.

It….maybe wasn’t so bad. Fushimi clicked his tongue and tried to turn his head from Yata’s gaze, only to be stopped by Yata’s palms on his cheeks. Yata was looking straight down at him and for a moment Fushimi’s eyes met Yata’s straight on, cold blue and warm amber, and suddenly Fushimi’s face felt even hotter than before.

“I-I’ll get you some water, okay?” Yata coughed, abruptly sitting up. Fushimi let out a soft breath from between clenched teeth and closed his eyes, letting his head rest on the arm of the couch as he heard Yata get up and walk towards the kitchen.

They’d been living together for two months now. It had been Misaki’s idea and Fushimi had agreed because his mouth had spoken the words before his brain could catch up. Maybe he’d just needed a change of scenery, he decided. Maybe he’d just gotten bored of Scepter 4’s dorms, of his plain room without a single important item in it, the room where only the uniform hanging on the closet door suggested that it belonged to anyone at all.

This apartment was fully painted in Yata’s colors. The moment Fushimi had stepped inside, shoulders hunched and a backpack on his back, he’d been able to feel it in his bones, those warm sun rays of Misaki’s smile splashed across the walls. There was a skateboard in the corner, posters haphazardly taped to the walls. The kitchen was fully stocked – vegetables in the fridge, and pineapples – and there were extra towels in the bathroom, brand new blue ones next to the well used red.

It shouldn’t have felt like home, stepping into the apartment. But it had.

Fushimi’s hands fumbled for the remote on the table in front of the couch. His head was pounding and he could still feel the ghost of Misaki’s fingers on his cheeks, he needed a distraction. There was the soft static sound of the television being turned on and then he let the remote fall to the floor as Fushimi curled his body up on the couch.

“Here, drink.” Familiar footfalls and Fushimi didn’t even need to look up to know that Misaki was standing over him. In the background Fushimi could make out the faint noise from the TV.

“I love you.”

“Hey, Saruhiko, come on! You need to drink. You didn’t faint on me again, right?” Yata bent down, half his body casting a shadow over Fushimi’s, and Fushimi blinked up stupidly at him. It was strange to be the one feeling small under Misaki, and dimly Fushimi realized that he’d lost his glasses at some point.

It felt a little like standing in the shadow of a statue, the kind you would see in museums, Greek gods stolen from their temple. The thought was so ridiculous it made Fushimi feel giddy and he let a wide twisted smile split his face as he reached up towards the water bottle and batted at it with his fingers.

“H-hey, careful!” Yata pulled the water back and there was that hand on his forehead again.

“I’ve always loved you.”

Words didn’t seem to be fitting right in his head, and Fushimi wondered why Yata’s face seemed red too. Come to think, that had been happening a lot lately too. Yata had invited him to coffee and stumbled over a word that he never had fully spoken: “It’ll be like a da—like a– never mind, just get coffee with me!”

Fushimi wasn’t stupid, he knew what Yata had been trying to say. But what his mind knew and his heart knew were always at cross purposes, and no matter how much his mind insisted on the logical answer his heart knew better. Words weren’t meant for him. His heart was a walled garden that didn’t grow, that twisted over all in vines and weeds. That sort of place would only serve to choke someone like Misaki, until neither of them could breathe.

“Saruhiko…” Yata’s voice was there again, at the edges of his mind, cutting through the fog and the darkness. Fushimi looked up at him and past him, towards the fuzzy figures on the TV screen.

“Forever…you’ve always been the only one for me. The only one I would ever choose…”

Yata held the bottle in one hand, the other twisting off the cap and setting it aside. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Yata brought the bottle to his lips, water dripping down his chin, and suddenly Fushimi’s own lips parted, parched.

Yata’s mouth pressed over his, cool water down his throat. It slid from the corner of his mouth, tongue brushing against Yata’s all on its own, and Fushimi heard Yata’s breath stop for just a moment, felt his own heart skip a beat.

Yata stepped back, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was burning.

“S-Saruhiko….” Yata seemed to be arguing with himself for a moment, before his whole body straightened. “L-look, I know this isn’t really – it’s not a good time to say it or anything, but I’ve been wanting to – just hear me out for a sec, okay? I–”

“I love you.” Fushimi wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say it. Maybe he’d only been planning to mouth the words that had sprung forth, water shifting aside tangled vines and the sun pouring in without him noticing. But his whole body was still on fire, burning down his spine, beating blood through his heart. He’d known it from the start, really. It wasn’t meant for him, but he’d still known it.

“What….did you say?” Yata’s voice was a hollow shadow, thin like a reed, and Fushimi could have laughed if he’d had the breath for it. Well, he’d made the mistake. He always read the signs wrong, because a human body wasn’t math and couldn’t be quantified. Maybe Yata had meant to say something else all along. Maybe Yata had only been forcing water down a parched throat, and nothing more. Maybe there was an anthill burning in the sun and here he was, placing his hands in the fire like a moron, like a Misaki with emotions swinging wild.

“I love you.” It was stupid, saying it again. What did those words mean anyway. What did someone like him know about love, when he’d never spoken the word aloud in his entire life. It was the stupidest thing, but his mouth still formed the words. “I’ve always….”

Always, always loved you.

Yata took a step forward, took a breath, and Fushimi braced himself.

And then Misaki’s mouth was over his again, wet and warm, burning his breath away and Fushimi could only reach up for him, grasp uselessly at skin and clothing and Misaki was mumbling something between the workings of his mouth, words that escaped with his breath and were caught in Fushimi’s throat, carried through blood vessels to make his heart beat, faster and faster.

“I love you….Saruhiko, I—I’ve really….I’ve always loved you, you know…it’s always been – even when I hated you I loved you, so…”

Such unfamiliar words, etched on his bones, and Fushimi pulled Yata closer, desperate, grasping, and Misaki didn’t pull away.

I love you.

He’d never said it before and now he wanted to say it a hundred times, over and over, until even he himself couldn’t deny it. The words echoed back, Misaki’s music in his ears, and Fushimi could hear the soft chime of Misaki’s laughter as Misaki’s arms wrapped around him.

It was warm, and it was comforting, and it felt like a weight being lifted off with every syllable, something he hadn’t known he’d been carrying until now.

I love you, and he let Misaki’s lips swallow up the rest of the words.

#sarumi #sarumi fest 2019 #k project #fic #Talking K #yeah here have a small thing I hope it's okay ;^;#I'm going to try to finish something longer but I might not make it in time #sorry I've been feeling a bit down lately and it's hard to find time and motivation to write ;^;#if I don't manage to finish by the end of the fest I'm aiming for at least Yata's birthday so we'll see #sarumi fest things are improving my mood and motivation so it's just do I have time now

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lilaclily00 · 5 years

Text

The Party That Went From Haunted to Worse: A Summerween Tale

Danny hates his life sometimes. And ghost portals. And his little sister. It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

I thought this was going to just... never see the light of day like most of my WIPs, but AU!Ghost August (Day 11: Crossover) gave me the drive to actually continue, finish, and post this monstrosity. Thanks for the excuse to put this out to the world!

This is the original post for the OC, and here’s the link to this story on AO3.

There's some Zalgo Text in here, so at the end I’ll have the... translations? Is that the right word? It looks better in AO3, though. :(

Thank you for helping me with this, @goinggoblin!!!

LET’S GOOO

-_-_-_ (I don’t think there’s horizontal lines anymore? Yikes)

Dani—known as Ellie around here—handed over the last of the fake spider-webbing. “There you go, Mabel.”

Mabel cheerfully thanked her from the ladder rungs, then turned back to stick it to the wall. “Now time for the paper stuff!”

“Are you sure it's okay to just...” Danny gestured around at the incomplete decorations strung around the designated party room.

Mabel waved him off over her shoulder, tacking up a cutesy paper skeleton onto the wall with her other hand, then a sheet ghost next to it. “Of course! We invited you!”

Ellie nudged Danny—well, it was much too hard of an elbowing to be classified as a nudge by most people, but not for them. “Lighten up, bro. It's not very often you get to go to parties, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” He knew she didn't mean his popularity—the fact it didn't exist—but that he just didn't have the time or energy for it most of the time. He wouldn't have gone to anything like this if she hadn't dragged him along as an excuse to take a break from ghost hunting.

Back in junior year, she’d sent him letters and photos from one of her longest stops in her travels, a dinky town called Gravity Falls, Oregon. She became good friends with a pair of twins around her age there, and they all stayed in touch afterwards. The twins invited her to hang out plenty since then, but this was the first time she told Danny to come along.

He had a complicated relationship with Halloween, considering the Fright Knight incident and all the kids and even adults that had started dressing up as Phantom (to varying levels of success and cringe). However, he had to admit he was intrigued with the idea of Summerween, especially when it was so far from Amity Park that its ghosts and fanbase would be very unlikely to interfere.

Even just thinking that, though, made him wonder if he just jinxed himself.

“Mabel,” they heard her twin call from the residential part of the Mystery Shack, “there's something wrong with the wig!”

Mabel shook her spiky, blue-haired head, hands on her red-uniformed hips. “No, there isn't! I would know!” She wagged her finger towards the visiting pair. “I'll go help him, so don't go anywhere!” She ran off, nearly tripping over her own costume.

“They really like to play up the twin thing, huh?” Danny asked his little sister in the silence. Someone had to acknowledge that the party's hosts were dressing up as Thing 1 and Thing 2. (He wasn’t sure what kinds of friends he suspected Ellie would make, but these two were a surprise.)

“At least they don't feel the need to be a walking pun at every opportunity,” she retorted, flipping back her Batman cape dramatically.

“I always am a walking pun. This is my truest self!” Danny gestured to his own costume, a classic zombie attire with green skin and fake blood everywhere.

“Har har.”

He looked over at the little pile of “spooky” images waiting on the top of the ladder, and took his pick of a large paper spider. He glanced back to the doorway where the twins disappeared off to, and quickly floated up to tape it to the ceiling with a grin.

“How are you going to explain how you got that there?” she giggled as he hovered back at her side.

“I won’t,” he replied smugly, touching ground. Just in time, too, as both Dipper and Mabel reappeared, now with their outfits and hair matching.

Mabel chirped, “If you guys help me with these last touches, this place will be perfect just in time for the party!”

Dipper fiddled with his sleeves, giving her a crooked smile. “At your orders, Mabes.”

-_-_-_

Danny was surprised by how many people actually showed up to what he expected to be a relatively small affair. Dipper had informed him that he and his sister lived in California for most of the year; despite that, it seemed the pair were very popular in their second home, Gravity Falls. Mabel introduced him to several of her friends, shouting over the loud pop music booming out the speakers, and he didn’t remember a single name.

Da—Ellie, he kept forgetting to call her that—was familiar with quite a few people, too. She stuck close to her big brother, though, until he ordered her to hang out with her friends instead. He appreciated the sentiment, but he could handle being by himself at a party.

Right?

He tried to dance for a few songs, but it wasn’t feeling natural. He then went to the refreshment tables for a jack-o-lantern cupcake. Maybe he needed to try to socialize after all. Hm, that one redheaded girl Mabel introduced to him seemed cool. He scanned the area for her face—

Wait.

His eyes narrowed, studying the long white hair halfway across the room. It wasn’t as glowy as usual, but he’d know that hair anywhere. He pocketed the cupcake wrapper and pushed his way through the crowd. Finally, his ghost sense said something as he crossed the dance floor.

"Hey, ghost girl!" he shouted over the music. Her head turned 180 like an owl, pigtails following slightly slower than physics demanded, then she calmly turned the rest of her body to him. Her ever-present blank, wide-eyed stare bored into him, and never strayed, as she easily swerved around the dancing kids toward him. He noticed that she made an effort of walking on the ground rather than floating.

"Hi, zombie," she replied, the slightest smile on her face showing she knew exactly who she was talking to. She was never really scared of him or angry at him. If anything, she seemed to like talking to him. He supposed it was because he was among the closest to her physical age in the Ghost Zone.

He was not going to be friendly, though, and showed it by crossing his arms at her. "What are you doing here?"

She clasped her hands behind her back. "I’d like to ask you that. You hardly ever leave your lair.”

Danny scrunched his eyebrows, then glanced around in case anyone heard her. “Do you mean Amity Park?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned warily. Considering their past interactions, it seemed like a genuinely curious question. She wasn’t the type to use his absence as a chance to cause chaos back home. (If only the other ghosts were the same way.) “I got invited to hang out here for the weekend. And I don’t think it counts as my lair.”

“I think it does,” she replied with the barest of shrugs, still staring at him, unblinking. “I’m here ‘cause a door opened up in the woods right by here," she added. "There was a flyer for this party taped up on a tree. It said there was gonna be cookies."

He scrunched his eyebrows. "You can't even eat human cookies." She finally blinked as that registered, and her gaze broke to look at the ground as she wilted under the weight of her disappointment. Drama queen. "And I know you're planning to scare the kids here, if you haven't already started. C'mon, let's go."

"What?" She flicked her eyes back up to him, igniting a small light in her irises, disrupting her otherwise unglowy appearance. Her entire face slowly, ever so slowly, began to twist clockwise on her head. "It's Summerween!"

He held up a hand; he knew exactly what she was going to argue. "I know it's like Halloween, but it's still the wrong date. We agreed on no mass hauntings outside of October 31st."

Her eyebrows just so slightly scrunched, about the closest she could get to looking angry. "This isn't a very big party."

He had to give her that; it was bigger than he expected, but still only a few dozen, which potentially wasn't enough to count as a mass of people. And everyone here was around their age, which was less worrying than her chasing down little kids just for a laugh.

Her big, empty eyes were unsettling, yet they nearly pleaded with him. He couldn't stand when she did that. He rubbed the side of his face in defeat, forgetting for a second about his zombie makeup. "Oh, fine! Only in this party. And nothing too scary. Otherwise, you go right into the thermos."

"Sounds good to me," she chirped, mouth curled into a small smile by her ear instead of her chin.

"Oh, do you guys know each other?" Danny glanced over to see the hosts themselves come from behind him. He turned back, tapping his cheek at the ghost. She knew the signal, and covered her face to recover its natural orientation.

"Kind of," he told Dipper.

The ghost girl uncovered her face, and smiled shyly at the twins. "I'm Lily. Nice to meet you." Danny raised his eyebrows at her; this whole time, she had an actual name?

"I'm Mabel! Lily, I love your costume!" Mabel squealed, hands smushing her own face. "You're so cute and creepy and ah!"

"Yeah, you did a great job," Dipper added, quiet admiration on his face as he quickly studied her appearance. Danny guessed he was wondering why the wig and body paint looked so realistic. Mabel did a fantastic job with their own costumes, but it was hard to make poofy, blue wigs not look like wigs. "I'm Dipper, by the way."

"You should totally enter the costume contest!" Mabel added, hands hovering, as if itching to reach out and inspect Lily's dress. "It’s later tonight!"

"Oh, maybe I will," she said, eyes flickering between the twins. They fixed onto Dipper when he had looked back up to her face. After a few seconds of an impromptu staring contest, Dipper turned his eyes away, blinking and glancing at Danny, unsure of himself.

Mabel seemed to not have noticed, as she continued rambling to Lily, who patiently listened, empty eyes directed back to Mabel and small smile held up.

"She takes Halloween——er, and Summerween costumes very seriously," Danny told Dipper. "Pretty sure she'll try to creep the crap out of everybody here."

"Well, seems like she's actually good at it," the boy admitted with an awkward chuckle. "But hey, that's what this holiday is for, right?"

-_-_-_

Lily was right there, right in plain sight, swaying to the music by herself, but Danny knew she wasn’t as innocent as she looked. Even now, she was beginning her haunting.

It was just little stuff. There were a few small spiders on the fake webs, real ones. The door opened automatically for newcomers. The jack-o-lantern cupcakes, once all smiling, now had one smiling evilly in the center of the platter while the rest wore a fearful frown. She was staring blankly at Dipper at every opportunity.

Danny had fetched his thermos soon after their conversation and clipped it to his belt. He tried to distract himself by talking to people, like the girl that turned out to be named Wendy, and bopping his head to the background beat. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on her and her effects. Why did his problems from home have to follow him everywhere? Why did he have to jinx himself?

He felt his sister ram into his back. "Danny, I sensed a ghost!"

"Yeah, so did I. It’s the white-haired girl. I worked out a deal with her," he immediately replied, sigh heavy and beyond his years.

Da—Ellie slowly shifted into a suspicious frown. "Wait, what? What kind of deal?"

"She gets to haunt the party for the night, and will peacefully return to the Ghost Zone after." Danny wilted under her glare. "Look, sh-she's even less harmless than the Box Ghost. She's all about the scare factor, doesn't try to hurt anyone—well, maybe makes them lose their sleep if they can't handle horror movies, but still. If I don't compromise here, she'll go for much bigger plans later to spite me. I promise I know what I'm doing!"

"Since when have you known what you're doing?" She shook her head, surely knowing how very offended he was by her comment. "This just doesn't sound like you, bro."

He shrugged exaggeratedly. "She doesn't operate the same way as most ghosts."

“So that made it okay to let loose a prankster ghost on these people?”

“Well, geez, it sounds terrible if you put it like that.”

She shook her head at him again before turning away with a dramatic cape twirl. He suddenly realized she does that at him a lot.

-_-_-_

Something was off.

Dipper had made all the necessary precautions for a Summerween party he could think of. He had left anti-magic wards hidden around the house—not unicorn hair strong, but still effective against most of what could possibly threaten a gathering like this. He’d cleared out the trash cans so the gnomes would have no reason to stick around. He locked up Gompers in the attic (he never proved to be dangerous, but that goat was terrifying).

But then when he went to take a break by a cobwebbed corner, he found real spiders on it. A lot of real spiders. The party lights, which were supposed to change color every few seconds, got stuck on red when he passed by them. The doors creaked open ominously when anyone came near them. He went to pour out some fruit punch, and the dispenser screamed when he pressed on it.

Every time he noticed one of these things, he glanced around him and immediately found that ghost girl staring straight at him.

Dipper ran to check the nearest ward, but it was still intact. However, there was something written next to it on the wall, in red.

You think you can keep me out?

Well, that wasn’t good.

The only suspect so far was the girl—Lily, right? Perhaps she wasn’t just dressed up as a ghost after all. But she looked too solid to be a ghost, though he hadn’t seen anyone actually try to touch her yet, and these things that were happening just didn’t have the same MO as the ghosts described in the Journals or those he faced in the past. But what other kinds of supernatural creatures could do things like this? Which ones would?

Mabel poked his shoulder, startling him enough that he bumped against the wall. She didn’t laugh, however, her attention focused on his wig. Eyes narrowed, she slowly said, “Dipper, is there blood in your hair?”

He ripped the wig off his head. Red liquid seeped out of its roots, matting down the poofed hair. He hesitantly touched a finger to it and sniffed. It smelled like copper.

Mabel pulled her own off, and found the same result. Face scrunched up in disgust, she tossed it to him and ran off to the bathroom. He could hear the door creak much louder than normal even from here.

Lily was staring at him, a blank smile on her face.

A part of him chastised himself for coming to conclusions too fast, but what other conclusion was there? And performing an exorcism, if it came to that, wouldn’t hurt something that wasn’t a ghost, right?

Clearly, what he needed to do next was talk to this girl, find out her motives before her little act became big. Just in case, though, he’d need to pull out that new silver mirror first.

-_-_-_

Amity Park and Gravity Falls were not very similar, but Danny realized there was something in common between their townsfolk: they were somewhat clueless. Not that he eavesdropped that much into the different conversations on the edges of the dance floor, but it seemed hardly anyone had noticed the odd tension in the air, the invisible slimy feeling on their skin of the supernatural hiding in their midst. Something coming.

Or, well, that that paper spider he stuck to the ceiling had grown several times its original size and crawled over one of the ceiling lights.

Ellie was consoling Mabel, who stood by the refreshments without her wig on. She glanced over to him a couple times just to glare.

He was trying to not keep his focus on Lily too much for his own sanity, but his eyes didn’t listen to his brain. They kept roaming the crowd to keep track of her. She looked like she wasn’t doing anything, but…

The eyes of the various wall decorations followed him wherever he went. Distant screaming could barely be heard over the music, if he tried to listen, but it came from nowhere. More spiders poured out of abandoned plastic cups. (She really liked that aesthetic, apparently.)

He only caught her in the act once at the refreshments table: she studied one of the Halloween-colored M&M cookies in her hand and threw it into her mouth. After a second, she pulled it back out, staring at it like it was the cause of all her problems. She disintegrated the cookie she couldn’t eat. When she turned away, all the other cookies had turned into oatmeal raisin.

How evil.

“Hey, Danny?”

He blinked and turned to see Wendy. She quirked her eyebrow at him. “What’s got you making that constipated face?”

He blinked at her even harder and she laughed. He huffed, scratching at his hair. “There’s just weird stuff going on.”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed, “this party’s totally haunted.”

“Actually—” He had enhanced hearing, and he still wasn’t sure he heard that right. “Yeah, it is. You noticed?”

“Well, it was kinda hard to ignore.” She nodded to herself. “I thought I heard creepy laughing coming from the bathroom and there was nobody there. ‘I’m here’ was written on the mirror in blood, though. Once I came back out, more stuff just kept popping up. There’s definitely a ghost.”

Danny frowned. “And… why aren’t you freaked out?”

“Well, same reason you aren’t. Dipper’s gonna take care of it.”

Alarm bells rang in his head, drowning out that distant screaming. “What do you mean ‘take care of it’?”

She tilted her head quizzically. “Don’t you already know him? This is totally Dipper’s thing, knowing about the supernatural and saving people from it. He already took down ghosts before. He’s probably getting everything ready for an exorcism or something right now.”

Exorcism. Exorcism. His skin crawled at that word. Ellie was friends with a kid that performed exorcisms in his spare time?

He remembered that Lily had been pulling that constant-stare thing on Dipper before. She had stopped at some point, which meant Dipper was out of sight, which meant maybe he really was planning something to get rid of her. Permanently.

Wendy said, “Hey, man, you okay?” just loud enough to bring him back out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, uh, just need to find Dipper,” he muttered, turning away and quickly searching the room for his face. Where was that kid, where was he, where was he—?

He hadn’t noticed that the music had slowly quieted down until Mabel was shouting by the DJ table. “Hey, everybody! We’re gonna start the costume contest in five minutes! Come over here if you wanna be in it!” The lights flickered for a couple seconds. “Oh, that’s new! We’ll get Soos to fix ‘em!”

Okay, there’s Mabel. Where there’s Mabel, there’s likely a Dipper. Or maybe an Ellie. He figured he should probably talk to her, too, even if she’ll give him that look again, wondering how she shared the exact same DNA with his doofus self.

-_-_-_

Mabel watched as the chatter grew louder with her hands on her hips. “There you go, Dipdop, I moved up the contest. The sacrifices I make to my carefully planned schedules for you!” She turned back to the playlist and rose the volume. The song sounded strangely distorted and screechy and demented, causing everyone to cover their ears. She quickly stopped the music. “But I guess you’re right that things are getting out of hand.”

Yes, he was. The freaky little instances seemed to have gotten worse in the few minutes he had spent grabbing the mirror and Journal 3 upstairs. The fastest way to find the ghost: have her come to him.

Grenda and Candy came running up in their matching “party animals” costumes, along with a couple other kids they barely knew. Danny rushed to the table, eyes wide and much more awake than any zombie had the right to be. Dipper opened his mouth, about to turn that into an actual joke, but Danny beat him.

“Do you know anything about ghosts?” The words practically tumbled out of Danny’s mouth.

Dipper raised his eyebrows. “Well, yeah.”

“And how to defeat them?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your plan?”

Dipper considered Danny’s strangely serious face. Then, he said, “Make her come out, find out her motives and if there’s something we can do to make her leave. Trap her away if she doesn’t want to, and exorcise her as a last resort.”

Danny set his frown grimmer and grimmer as he spoke. The lights flickered. “I think you need to reconsider the severity of this haunting. I can’t let you—”

Click.

The lights all went out, and the room was an inkier black than it should’ve been on a warm summer Oregon night. Large objects screeched as they dragged across the floor, bumping into people. Dipper felt something crawl over his feet, heard the table in front of him slide away. Just over the random yelps and screams of the attendees, a dark laughter rang.

They flicked back on. The tables, speakers, and party lights were all randomly located throughout the room. The attendees were stunned to silence, taking some seconds before their chatter began anew as they inspected their new surroundings.

A girl with a white wig (it had to be her real hair) and painted blue skin (she didn’t have skin) slipped through the crowd, glancing between the three with that little smile gracing her face. “Can I join the costume contest?”

Dipper couldn’t stop himself from setting a glare on her, gripping tighter the silver mirror behind his back. Mabel, who had more tact, plastered a grin on and said, “Of course! I invited you to do it, didn’t I?”

Lily nodded and quietly took her place by Candy, who was not the only contestant staring at her warily. She ignored them all, eyes unfocused as she fiddled with one of her pigtails.

Dipper glanced back over to Danny from the corner of his eye. “I think you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told him quietly. “Just let me do my job.”

“Your job?” Danny hissed in return, far more offended than Dipper expected him to be. “Just let me talk to her—”

“What, do I look like I haven’t done this before?”

Danny tugged at his hair. “Listen to me! You need to change your plan!”

All the paper decorations promptly dropped from the walls, fluttering to the floor, except for the cutesy ghosts.

Mabel shouted over their quiet arguing, “Last call if you want to be in the contest!”

Ellie strode up, determination in her footsteps as she lined up beside Lily.

-_-_-_

Now that the music wasn’t playing, Danny could see people inspecting their surroundings a little more. Now that she wasn’t hidden among the crowd, Danny could see a few of those people second-guess Lily, watching her rock back and forth on her feet with a calculating eye. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. If there was anyone else here like Dipper...

He had to give up on talking sense into the kid because the contest was starting. Mabel was doing it by applause, and he couldn’t hear anything else over it.

Mabel wrote down on a notepad (though he had no clue what she’d be writing down), nodding thoughtfully to herself. “Looks like it’s between Count Dracula,” she shouted, gesturing with her pen to a kid in an elaborate vampire costume then to Lily, “and the ghost! One more vote decides the winner!”

The other contestants moved aside, but not too far. Ellie glanced over to Danny as she stepped back a couple feet. She was planning something, he knew it. With how mad she was at him, he had the distinct feeling he should be running for what remained of his life.

Dipper pulled Danny’s arm back as the applause rang again. When it stopped, he spoke in a dangerously low voice. “You said you knew her. You said she would try to scare everyone.”

Danny bit his lip for a second. “I did say something like that, huh?”

Quiet fury grew in Dipper’s eyes. “Well, fine. If you’re not going to do anything—” The rest was drowned out by the applause roaring up again, startled shouts mixed in as the lights flickered again, but Danny could guess, and his heart dropped to his stomach as Dipper turned away without giving him a chance to reply.

“Dracula wins!” Mabel announced, and a cheer rose up once again. “But the rest of you were great, too!”

Ellie stepped back up to Lily when the claps died back down. “Sorry you lost,” she said.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she replied amicably. “It wouldn’t really be fair if I won, anyway. I’m not a̙͈ ͖̩̠̬c̯͔̼t͚̮̗̙u̟͖͕a̻͙ ̼ll͙̙͎y̹ ̬͔̣̻̣w̠e̞̤ͅ ̪̖̦̤͍ͅ ̥ar͙͈i͈̳̰̜n̪̼̮ ͈ ̟̫͍̰͍ͅg̱ͅ ̟ ̦͇͓̻̹͇̼ ̝̯̦ ̹̬̟̱ ̭͈̠͇̟͖ ̗̤̯̮̭ a̬̯̰̦̞̪ͅ ̣̜͖ͅ ̬͚̪̫͎̰ c̫̗ ̜͕͕͇̤ ̤o ̥̮̺s̹̜͕͇t̬̘̮̼ ̗̞̥̣̖̼ ͇ ̣͓̹ u̹͖̙͙͇̠ ̼͉͓̰͙ ̝̯͍͙͍͓ ̭ ̤ ̖̠̠̙͖̮͕ ̜͔͔̮ ̖ ͚̤ͅ ̤ ̪̤̖͓̘͉ͅ ̭̳̜m̦̼̲̫ ̲̫͔̳̮͎ ̖̩̝̙̦͇ ̲̯̠͙̬ ̝ ̠͔̼͈͖ ̰̹ ̘͎̺̗ ̳̠̫̳̻̥ ̥͚̙͈̠͙ ̪̖͎̳̻ ͔͉̰͈̳ ̠ ͇̺̫ ͚̲̻̥͚͎̣ ̖̫̖̭ͅͅ ̩ ̩e͙͍͎̙̺̜.͇͍̩”

Lily’s hair and dress floated, revealing blobs of ectoplasm instead of legs. The lights went out, then returned in a dim, red hue. She was already up in the air, eyes glowing, face twisting. She raised her arms, and objects began to float at her command. Attendees screamed, almost loud enough to not hear the unsettling laughter coming from all sides. A couple of them tried to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Hey!” Dipper shouted as he ran to her. He was holding a… small mirror? “What do you want, ghost?”

She abruptly turned her head to him, face upside-down. Her voice had a demonic overtone as she replied, “T͍̝o̗͙ͅ ̥m͈a͕̲k̶̼͙̻e̼̟̼ ̳̱y̨o҉͎̹u͔͇̬͟ ̼s̹̙cr͉̦͇̮̭͇͡e̺͓͖̱̤̗a̪͙͓̩̮͟m͢.͎̮̳̱̬̯”

“Come on, there has to be something else,” he insisted, hand gripping the mirror harder. Danny inched his way; that mirror had to be a trap of some kind, and he wasn’t going to let Dipper use it—not when Danny didn’t know if he could get her back out of it.

“I know what you don’t want,” Ellie shouted, holding out a Fenton Thermos. Wait—Danny felt for the thermos on his belt. It was gone. She stole his thermos. How did he not notice until now?!

Lily stared her down, but she didn’t look scared. “Y̘o̺͎͖̱u̖̜̳̭̺ ̸̣̭̥̦͉̙̭s̝͢h̨o͙̞u̠͓̰̙͉l̡͉̠̗̣̥̗d̯̩̮̦̯͎̗’̨v̰̘̹͞e̙͉̘̦̱ ̶̙us̻̩̪͎̝̯e̯̱̜̬̮̝̫d͕͢ ì̟t̗̻̬̯͕̪͘ ̝͉w̹̤̫h̞̼̫̹̘̲͍͢e̖ņ̦̹̬̣̫̱ ̗̟̺y̵̬̤͖͓̖o̰̯̪̟̼̥u̟̩̰̙͢ ̝̖͕̗́h̪̰͝a̖͍̲͉͡d͕̹ ͙͖̬͉͟t̻̗̠͈̝h͚͚̜̖͎̕ͅe̼̰͍ ̰̲̪̥c͏̟̞̝͓̫h̗̤͚̲͔̼a̯͎̳͇͙̝͈n̦̥̜̹͘ͅc̳̭ȩ,” she answered, holding her hand out at Ellie. She began to float off the ground, yelping as she flailed her arms and legs in the air. She lost her grip on the thermos as she suddenly began to spasm, as if fighting off a—no, she couldn’t be.

She stilled, eyes closed, then opened them. They were glowing ecto-green. She was dull and slack-jawed, staring off at nothing.

Danny couldn’t help the dread trickling into his chest. She wasn’t really...?

He stepped towards her, and she... glanced down at him? Oh, she didn’t.

She winked.

She did.

Danny felt a thrill of anger run through him—how could his own clone decide to act possessed and make all of this worse? (When did those two even get to plan this?!) It was clearly working, with how all the partygoers stared at her in horror, looking like they were about to pass out.

“A̛̫̙̮n͏y̗͇o̩̝͇̫n͖̜̬͇͖͖e̳ ̣̱̙̭͓e̤͚͉͉̮l̢̞̦̟s͎̱͍͍̩e̪̭͘ ͈͡w͖͚̩̹͉͢a͇͔̘ņ͎̟̣̫n͈͉̕a̷̟̝̯̬͚ ̭̱͉̟͔͘p̷̙̬̮̫̲͈̞̼͇̜͇̎̐͊ͨͅ l̜͖̲̀̇̚ ̼ ̤̄ a͙̻̲̰͂̋ͦ̎͌̏ ̬̘͍ͯ͝ ̙͎͚̊̆̆ͨ̚ ̝̟̎͑͐ͬ́ỵ̶͉͉̳ͨͥ̌͋̓ͅ ̖͉͓̙ͮ͌̑ͤ̽?̡͎̦̭̩̙̰͎”

Danny was about to dive for the thermos and suck both of them in (Ellie absolutely deserved it too, now), but he saw Dipper holding up the mirror and beginning a chant from a thick book. He had to take care of that first. He tackled the boy to the ground. The mirror slid away, unbroken, and both of them scrambled to get up and grab it first. Danny won, barely, and Dipper tackled him in return.

“Give me that!” Dipper growled, furiously trying to pull the mirror out of Danny’s hands.

Danny elbowed him away. “No, we need to use the thermos!”

“Why?!”

“Because—” he grunted as Dipper kicked him surprisingly hard— “it’ll work better!”

“And why should I believe you? You don’t care about stopping her!”

“I never said I didn’t!” Dipper paused his fighting. “I said to change your plan because she doesn’t deserve to be killed or trapped forever, and I already know that!” Danny pushed the other boy off of him and stood up, brushing himself off. “The longer we argue, the more she’ll make everyone pee their pants.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll use your thermos thing,” Dipper grumbled as he pushed himself back to standing. He sobered as he saw food flying around and Ellie still floating there, gawking into space. “You better be right.”

“Of course I am.”

Danny sprinted for the thermos. He turned it on the second his hand touched it. Lily and Ellie apparently heard its mechanical whine, as they both glanced at him, Lily wide-eyed in a different way than usual.

“I̙̻̺’̩͍m͇͔͢ ͅṋ̰̮̦͎͡ͅo̞̤t̩̯̰̖̱͖͖ ͞f͚̜̙͢ǐ̭͉͓͈̅͗ͥͅn̝̯̻͎̣̰̱̅i̮̹͔̲ͨͥ̋̆̕s̓̽ͤ͑̋҉̜͈̱̪h̤͉̫̭͍̒͆̉̈̊̐e̵͈̣͖dͧ͏͎͍̻ ̖͙́̇̒͛ẅ̘̠̤̤̭̒̾͟ḭ̩͈̥̬̅ͪt̰͇̟̹͖͂ͪͪ͋͟ḩ̝̯̖̤͉ͬ́͌—”

He gave her an apologetic look as he pulled the lid off. She let out a chilling, unnatural scream as she was sucked in, the finale to her entire performance.

Everything that had been floating crashed down, the lights flicked back to their usual white, and the laughing died off. Ellie fell to the floor, rubbing at her head and looking around as if dazed (that little liar).

“Are you okay?” Mabel cried as she ran to Ellie’s side, just as Dipper came up to him and asked, “Are you sure she can’t get out?”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, knocking his knuckles against it. “I’ll let her out in the Ghost Zone.”

“The Ghost Zone?”

He found himself explaining it halfmindedly, the rest of him focused on inspecting the party. It looked like everything really was back to normal, minus the rearranged room and food that fell to the floor.

“That’s amazing!” Dipper’s eyes sparkled, and Danny could finally see what Wendy meant about him wanting to know the supernatural, too. “I have so many questions!”

Danny suddenly suspected he’d be here a long time if those questions started now. “How about you write them down and I’ll tell you about it when the party’s over?”

He was surprised that Dipper agreed so easily, running off to grab Mabel’s pen. With that, he snuck out of the party, thermos in hand.

-_-_-_

Danny took the lid off again, watching as Lily reformed. She stretched her arms over her head with a sigh. He rubbed at his neck. “Sorry about trapping you, I didn’t really have a better choice.”

"That was still really fun!" She giggled, with the biggest smile Danny had ever witnessed her pulling. Her coloring shifted back to how she usually looked in the Ghost Zone, with purple hair, gray-black skin, and her dress bleached from black to bright white. She was officially out of her “scare-mode”, it seemed.

He huffed. "If you tone it down next time, and not include my sister in your schemes, I might not have to resort to it again.” He glanced around. “Well, time for you to go home. Is that portal still open?"

"Perhaps." Lily floated into the forest, and Danny warily followed.

Only a few minutes passed before they came across a long rip in the air, carved out in front of one of the many trees, shining ecto green like a bleeding wound. One of its neighbor trees wore a sparkly Summerween party flyer.

"See you later, Phantom!” Lily chirped. “Oh, and let Mabel know her cookies were good!" She paused to wave, her grin lingering on her face turned counterclockwise, then flew through.

Danny watched the portal until it closed; luckily, it only took a minute or two to stitch the fabric of reality back together, leaving no trace. Well, except for his nerves being fried for the night.

He was not looking forward to Ellie’s smug grin.

It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

Zalgo Text:

"I'm not actually wearing a costume."

"To make you scream."

"You should've used it when you had the chance."

"Anyone else wanna play?"

"I'm not finished with—"

#Danny Phantom #DP #ghostsona #AU!Ghost August #aughost #Lily? Lily.#Lily? Lily. Fic.#Gravity Falls #GF #DPxGF crossover #crossover #DP headcanons awaaaaay #and yay spooky times #Dani and Danny call each other siblings but otherwise this is basically post-canon (minus PP maybe?)

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viktcrr-alt · 5 years

Text

MAXENCE DANET FAUVAL / NONBINARY — don’t look now, but is that viktor samuels i see? the 24 year old visual arts student is in their senior year and he/they are a rochester alum. i hear they can be observant, ingenious, reticent and dependent, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he/they will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

LAST INTRO WOOOO !! u know what to mf DO !!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts.

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

stats

biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

has been back since the beginning of fall semester in an attempt to finish his senior year - mostly out of his parents’ insistence that he did, because he very much did not want to.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, which was only amplified with dean lockwood’s death - causing him to spiral and be unpredictable with his mental health. some days are good, and some days are very bad.

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

#huntingtonintro #death tw #grief tw #overdose tw #drugs tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #murder tw #religion mentions #mental health tw

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strawberrylovessebby · 5 years

Text

Bloodlines (part one: Nightmares)

Pairing: Hunter!Chris (Destroyer) x Banshee!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Nightmares, corpses and a big and grumpy hunter. Five months since you became a Banshee, and to be honest? You just want to fucking sleep.

Warnings: Some bad words, a lot of blood and one (1) dead person. Also nightmares and a bunch of lies (does this need a warning?).

A/N: This is the first chapter of my entry for my beautiful bambolina’s FREAKY500 writing challenge! (@thewritingdoll)🍓 I really fucking love the prompt I choose and I can’t thank you enough for being my beta ;A; you have my whole heart! So, this is like my first fic in english, be kind please! Hope you peeps enjoy! Every kind of feedback is a b s o l u t e l y appreciated!🍓🍓

series masterlist

Before starting college two years ago, you thought about so many things that could go wrong while there. Like bad parties, too many lessons, nights spent studying and fake friends. However, not a single one of that thoughts included becoming a banshee.

And yet, here you were.

Five months after the bite you found yourself, in the middle of the night, in a place you didn’t even know where it was. Again. And at your feet; a corpse.

A woman. Laying on her stomach. From where you were standing you couldn’t see her face, but you could see, very clearly, the hole on her side. The flesh devoured by something.

The blood was everywhere, and you stumbled backward in the exact moment you realized you were standing with your bare feet in the middle of the pool around the body.

You bit back the tears, resisting the urge to scream, and wrapped your hands around your arms, tight. Your tank top and shorts doing nothing to keep you covered, while goosebumps raised on your skin.

The silence all around you broke when you circled the woman. Something telling you to look at her face. Voices, whispering quietly in your head.

Look. Look at her. Look at me.

Her face was pale. Eyes spent, watching nothing. Dread still lingering on her features.

Then, the woman was watching you and a name rolled off her tongue with more blood. And you screamed, opening your eyes.

“ Hey! Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare. Shhh. ”

You focused your gaze on your best friend’s face, her brows furrowed in a worried look, and slowly you started to feel your mind come back to reality. You felt the warm air of your house, the hard wood under your feet and heard the noises from the street outside your building. But the chills on your skin were still there, just like the distant sound of the raspy voice of the dead woman. The name still reverberating inside your mind.

“ Are you okay? ”

Your best friend voice startled you and you looked back at her. You didn’t notice that your gaze shifted from her to the door in front of you. And just in that moment you realized that you were standing in the entryway of your house.

“ I… yes. Sorry, I’m okay, just… ”

“ Don’t worry… let’s go back to sleep, okay? ”

“ Yeah. Sure… ”

You didn’t really try to fall asleep again for the few hours until morning, too scared you’d wake up in the street this time, or worse, that you’d see again the face of that woman.

The name she told you still clear in your mind. Were you supposed to know the person that name belonged to? You weren’t sure why, but it weighed on your tongue, so you left it slip out your mouth, breaking the silence in your room.

“ Chris. ”

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　•••

The morning went like any other day. Neither you or your roommate talked about what happened the night before. You convinced her many months ago that it was just stress, and you thanked anyone that was listening that she actually believed it.

You were ready to forget everything about that nightmare. Put the dead woman in the corner of your mind where you started to hide every weird thing you saw since the day you were bitten by that fucking alpha.

But life’s never so easy, right?

Most of the times, when you weren’t in your house, inside the college or at work in the library you focused yourself on the road you had to do. Keep your mind on the street. But that morning you couldn’t, because of the distant buzz in your ears.

The voices weren’t loud enough to be annoying, but they kept you distracted. You didn’t notice you took the way on your right instead to keep going straight ahead. Neither did you see the policemen until the alarm of one of the police cars snapped you out of your thoughts.

You looked around yourself, cursing under your breath. You were definitely very far away from your college. And that place looked familiar, in a disturbing way.

A chill ran up your spine the moment you realized that you were standing not too distant from the spot where the dead woman was, in your nightmare.

You should spin on your heels and run to college; you were already late! But you couldn’t. So you didn’t.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and one step after another you made your way between the small group of people that blocked your view. A crowd of curious of every age and sex.

You managed to reach the yellow barricade tape without too many problems, the distant voices in your ears becoming more than a soft buzz the moment your eyes landed on the figure laying on the ground. The body was half covered from the agents scattered all around the place, but you could recognize the woman anyway. Same clothes, same hair and same pool of blood circling her middle and painting the floor.

Just like in the nightmare, you couldn’t see her face.

One of the agents, FBI perhaps, stood up after checking the corpse and your gaze was drawn to his face. He pinched the base of his nose, closing his eyes, and he seemed just so tired. And sad.

The man, after a long sigh, covered his eyes with the same hand, that then slipped over his buzzed haircut until the back of his head. His eyes looked down at the woman and you could see him talk, but you were too far to hear, or even try to read his lips. You averted your gaze, watching around him, trying to understand with who was he talking, but he was the only one near the body. And the only FBI agent too.

With every passing second the voices were becoming more insistent and you wrapped your arms around your waist. You couldn’t stay any longer, not without ending with a major headache and a lot of other nightmares. You couldn’t help anyway, no one ever would believe in what you could do. No one.

You watched the body one last time, before finding yourself in need to see again that FBI agent. So you looked up, searching the man, and you found him already looking at you from afar.

Your eyes locked together and you felt the voices roaring in your head, almost screaming the name the dead woman told you.

Chris. Chris. Chris!

You pressed your hands on your ears, closing your eyes, whining for the pain all those voices were making you feel. And you almost forgot that you were surrounded by people, the dead so loud that you couldn’t even understand what was real and what was just inside your mind.

You opened your eyes when you felt strong arms beneath you and a warm chest pressed against your side. It wasn’t easy to focus your gaze on something -anything- with the fucking headache currently splitting your skull in half, but the screams stopped the exact moment you heard the voice of the person that was holding you.

Drowning down the cries with every passing second and rumbling low in his chest, the man’s voice helped you until your view stopped being just a blur full of black little stars. And the first thing you saw was him. The FBI agent. From up close you could see his eyes; oceans of deep and dark water, agitated by a storm happening inside his mind. They were beautiful.

“ Hey kid, I’m talking to you. Can you hear me? ”

“ I’m twenty-one… ” you cringed at your own words, it was definitely not the smartest thing to say to this hot man, good job genius. “ Uh— I mean— let me go, please.”

You pushed yourself away from the man, almost falling on your ass if it wasn’t for him holding your waist.

He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow and lifted his hands from you the moment he was sure you weren’t going to fall.

“ Thank you. ”

You spoke with soft voice, averting your gaze from the man before you and finally seeing that he actually took you pretty far away from the crowd. The corpse was now inside a black bag, you could see the coroner pointing the back of the van before she disappeared behind it with the stretcher.

“ Did you know her? ”

The agent voice made your attention shift back to him. He was looking at the crowd, but his gaze came back on your form slowly. He watched you up and down and you couldn’t help but notice that he was, in fact, analyzing you. For a second, you were scared he was going to see something, a detail, that would gave away that you weren’t completely human anymore.

But he just looked you in the eyes, same serious expression.

“ Well… ” a thought popped up in your mind, an idea. You had to know who that woman was, and maybe that agent would tell you something more about her, if you could convince him that you knew her! “ Yes! Actually, yes… she was my— uh— aunt! Yes, my aunt. And uhm— I was on my way to college when I saw the crowd! I don’t know how I’m gonna tell my mom about her… ”

You felt some guilt build inside you and you thought about the real family the dead woman should has. Was she an aunt? A mother? A wife? The last thing you wanted to do was disrespect her and her family, but you had to know who she was. And why she was in your dream. And, most important, who was Chris.

“ Do you know who could have done that to her, agent? I’m so scared… Oh! I should call her husband! ”

“ Husband? ”

“ Yes… uhm, uncle Chris, he— ”

The neutral expression the man had plastered on his face during all your rambling shifted dangerously fast when that name left your lips. In a matter of seconds it became confused, then angry, and a chill ran up your spine. He took you by your arm, his grip was tight enough to hurt you.

“ Who the fuck are you? ”

“ Hey, let me go! I told you— ”

“ She didn’t have a single family member alive, so drop the bullshit. How do you know that name? ”

And then it hit you. Every detail get into place. The face he had beside the body it was because he knew her. And the voices getting loud the moment you saw his eyes but disappearing when he talked to you. Everything.

“ It’s you. You are Chris… ”

A shout came from behind the man, where the police was still working, and both of you looked back to see who wanted to gain your attention. And there stood two more agents.

They called again, a name that it wasn’t yours but now you could tell it wasn’t even the man’s before you.

“ Fuck. ”

Chris, sliding his hand from your forearm to your wrist, began to walk, fast, pulling you with him. You wanted to stop, resist him, scream for help or maybe just run the other way, you could do that, but you didn’t. Because you wanted answers more than how much you wanted to run.

“ Get in the car. ”

He left your wrist and you opened the car door, sliding in the passenger side without a word.

#FREAKY500WC #writing challenge #supernatural au #preternatural au #destroyer!chris x reader #destroyer!chris fanfic #destroyer!chris x you #destroyer!chris au #sebastian stan fic #hunter!chris (destroyer)#destroyer!chris #bloodlines #my writing

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ladyofpurple · 5 years

Note

answer all of the questions!!

holy SHIT ok bless you omg

(sorry it's a full day late i took this shit SERIOUSLY. don't ask me how many hours this took, i was in A Mood™️ last night. removed the ones already answered xoxo)

angel; have you ever been in love?

yeah. didn't end too well, but i loved him.

petal; favorite novel and author?

this is like asking me to pick a favorite child. i guess favorite author would be stephen king, if only based entirely on the sheer quantity of his books i own alone. favorite book would probably be special topics in calamity physics by marisha pessl, and i'm only saying that because it's been my go-to response for years. i have lots of favorite books. ask me again in five minutes and i'll give you another one.

honey perfume; favorite perfume/scent?

freshly made coffee. lilacs. jasmine. cut grass. the ground after it rains. chocolate chip cookies in the oven. cigarette smoke on skin. my mom's shampoo. my grandma. my dog when he's just had a bath. thanksgiving dinner. acrylic paint on canvas. sawdust. that one cologne i can't name but can smell on a guy from a mile away. mulled cranberry and apple juice. vanilla. coconut. fresh laundry. peppermint.

sweet pea; what’s your zodiac?

virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising ✨

softie; talk about your sexuality.

i'm biromantic asexual, primarily attracted to men more than women (but have had too many crushes on girls to consider myself het), generally sex repulsed when it comes to the thought of having it myself. i prefer to call myself queer in passing conversation, it's easier than explaining asexuality and the differences between sexual and romantic attraction. if someone asks more specifically, i'll usually just call myself bi for simplicity's sake, even though the ace part is a much more important (to me) part of my identity. monogamous as fuck.

i'm still struggling with internalized homophobia and a lot of "am i even queer enough" thoughts, which is super fun. took me a long time to even consider the fact that i might like girls at all. i'll probably never come out to my parents. not that they'd, like, disown me or whatever, but they're juuuuust homophobic/transphobic enough that my few attempts to educate them when they say something A Little Yikes have shown me that i should probably just stay in the closet unless i absolutely have to come out. like i'm getting married to a woman or something.

sugarplum; what’s the color of your eyes and hair?

i usually say my eyes are green because it's easier, and they mostly are, but i have rings of greyish blue around the irises and sometimes they're more hazel in the middle. they always have a green tint to them though, even if the intensity of the green varies.

my natural hair is brown, a little on the darker and slightly ashy side of completely generic. currently a former blonde, although i'm hoping to bleach my fucking YEAR of growout soon, and then go some crazy color as a last hurrah before i have to go dark again. being broke fucking sucks.

wings; coffee or tea?

tea!! black tea. chai, to be specific, with an irresponsible amount of milk and sugar. chai lattes are a fucking drug okay? coffee makes me sick (not a judgement, a literal fact. last time i tried some i threw up).

fairytale; are you a cat or dog person?

cat!! but my family has a chihuahua named sonny and you can pry that little monster from my cold dead hands ok i will fight you.

snowflake; favorite time period?

okay, i wrote and rewrote my answer to this about 10 times. then i tried to divide it up into categories (aesthetics, history, fashion, vibes, geographical location, etc), but that didn't help. so basically: i don't have one, because i have too many.

i like the american 20s-60s for the aesthetic, music/movies, and the fashion. i also like the european 1600s-1800s for the interesting history and also vibe. i love the french and russian revolutions — the fashion! the art! the wars and political upheaval! I FUCKING LOVE HISTORY. then, of course, we can't forget the rennaisance. or the witch trials (pick your continent). and ancient greece? the roman empire? hello?? did i mention empires? how bout we mosy on over to south america — can i interest you in the mayans? incans? aztecs? what about china and japan? korea? vietnam? and don't even get me fucking STARTED on the black plague.

ancient egypt? sign me the FUCK UP. vikings? yes please. the celts? oh boy. the MYTHOLOGY. the ARCHITECTURE. the LANGUAGES and POLITICS and LITERATURE and REVOLUTIONS and GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN ANY OF THESE

i uh. might have gotten a little excited. basically i like history a lot. and mythology. and linguistics. and cultural practices. and the politics and prejudices behind wars and stuff. and learning in general. moving on.

vanilla; do you believe in ghosts?

let's put it this way: i don't not believe in ghosts??

listen. we don't know jack shit. we don't know what happens after we die, there are constant scientific revelations that turn our understanding of the universe completely upside-down, and there is literally no way to know which religions or myths or urban legends could have some grain of truth to them. like, dude, i've literally thought i was haunted before. psychology is bananas and the universe is infinite.

demons could be real. ghosts could be real. what if we just haven't invented the necessary technology to prove it yet? what if we never do, and they just fuck around alongside us, moving furniture and making shadow puppets on the walls just for kicks until the earth explodes? what if that one tumblr post was right and ghosts are actually real people from alternate universes or timelines that we see accidentally bc some cosmic wires got crossed? who fucking knows.

i love horror movies and scary stories and ghost hunter shows just as much as the next gal. but listen. psychics? mediums? people who accept every single creepypasta retold third-hand from their neighbor's kid's classmate's second cousin who "totally knows a guy"? doubt.jpeg

i don't understand the sheer amount of assumptions made willy-nilly about the nature of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. the assumption that "oh this machine that totally doesn't look like a coathanger taped to a walkman will work because ghosts have this temperature and can always communicate like this and are electromagnetic" or whatever just baffles me. to a certain degree, following a general consensus is one thing — some basic things everyone can agree on? that's cool. ghosts can walk through walls and are probably dead people or whatever. but oh my god, taking every single story as absolute, undeniable proof?? taking these stories and expanding on them to infer intentions and scientific facts to something that by it's very nature is unknowable and assuming, like, every spirit is created equal?? and yeah, ghost hunting shows are fun and campy and kinda creepy but like. you really, genuinely don't think any of them have ever faked anything at all??? even if ghosts are real, it's fucking reality tv, my dude. it's the entertainment industry. at least maintain the slightest ounce of critical thought before taking zak bagans' word as the goddamn gospel.

and sidenote, maybe it's just my limited exposure as a white woman in the western world, but of all the shows and podcasts and movies and documentaries and whatnot i've been able to find and consume, there's the constant use of christian ideology applied to every situation that just really burns my bacon. what, there's never been an atheist ghost? if you see a shadow person and you don't know the lord's prayer by heart, are you automatically fucked? why are there never stories about, i don't know, viking ghosts? does your religion in life preclude you from becoming a ghost in the first place? is that why people never mention buddhist ghosts? i don't get it, and that's why even though i'm self-admittedly the most superstitious person i've ever met, true believers make me roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. makes me come across as more skeptical than i theoretically am. I HAVE VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OK

but like, you couldn't pay me to fuck with a ouija board. i'm not stupid.

delicate; diamonds or pearls?

both have their appeal and their place, but diamonds, i guess. i like the sparkle. but fake ones!! or synthetic. diamonds are overpriced and artificial scarcity is a scam and i don't need a dumb rock that some poor person in a mine somewhere was exploited and possibly died for. no blood diamonds in this house, thank you very much.

if i ever get engaged, i don't want a diamond ring. i'd want something cool, a little unusual, like a ruby or a sapphire or some other sparkly gem that isn't literally shoved in your face every waking moment as the expected standard symbol of True Love. they're cheaper, they're cool-looking, as a ring they still hold the cultural symbolism of an engagement/wedding ring. and honestly, as long as it's well-made and durable, whatever hypothetical gem it is doesn't have to be real either. i'm a woman of simple needs and demonstrably low standards. no point in going into debt for a fucking piece of jewelry, regardless of ~tradition~.

lavender dream; favorite album?

oh lord. welcome to the black parade, i guess. or anything by panic! at the disco. there are dozens of possible options — my interests are mercurial and my memory is garbage. but i'll always be an emo little shit. black parade and vices and virtues were also the first two albums i ever listened to where i loved every single song on them, and i happened to listen to them for the first time at around the same point in my life (i got into mcr super late. like, 2012 late. rip).

silky; what’s your biggest dream?

it's cheesy but i guess i just want stability and, by extension, happiness. emotional stability, mental stability, financial stability, stable living situation, stable routines, stable relationships... you get the idea. i have ambitions and passions, of course, but my ultimate goal is happiness at this point in my life, and i'm pretty sure stabilizing all those things would go a pretty long way in achieving that goal.

a little apartment with walls i can paint because white walls make me angry. bookshelves and posters and fandom merch on every wall. a computer i can actually play games on again, and somewhere i can paint and draw and record my podcasts. someone who loves me, maybe. a cat, if i'm stable enough. space for people to come visit me, and a place for them to sleep if they need. a tiny balcony, if i really want to shoot for the stars. a job i don't hate. the spoons to hang out with my friends, and the money to not worry about buying little presents for the people i care about sometimes. i don't need much.

strawberry kiss; do you have a crush right now?

nope.

glitter; favorite fictional character?

another loaded question. like books, if you ask me again in five minutes i'll probably give you a different answer. but in this particular moment, caleb and jester from critical role (please don't make me choose between them). i won't go full shipping mode rn, but jester is so funny and silly and sweet, so much more complex than she seems, and she tries so hard to make everyone happy even when she's so sad inside. the healer who treats healing as an inconvenience in battle (she's so fucking valid and also mood), the glue that keeps the party together. and caleb learning to trust again, facing his trauma and coming out of his shell. he loves his friends so much he plays wizard as a support class and i love him so much.

i love the mighty nein in general, of course, and all the guests/honorary members they've had. pumat!! pls don't be evil reani!! keg!! shakäste and grand duchess anastasia!! cali!! kiri!!!! the brotps! empire siblings! chaos crew! nott the best detective agency! i still love molly and all his assholery to bits (fight me), and mourn his lost potential. i adore yasha, even when she's gone; fjord has grown so much; beau and nott and caduceus — i love all their flaws and disagreements and their character arcs and the excitement of watching them grow and learn. but if i had to choose, caleb, jester and molly have always been my top 3 since day 1 and, well, molly isn't really an option anymore.

but like i said, ask me again in a minute. i have a fucking list.

swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.

a collection of things off the top of my head:

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. — Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

a tired feminist Mood™️

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

i got my love of books from my grandma — some of my favorites i got from her. sometimes, as a treat, she used to take my sister and i to bookstores and we'd stay there for ages, getting to pick one out, roaming the shelves, the mental torture of having to choose. the peace of being surrounded by thousands of potential worlds, so much information, so many stories just waiting to be told; being surrounded by strangers who share that same wonder. the anxious drive home so we could read them, being unable to wait that long so i inevitably start reading in the car and make myself sick. telling her in excited detail all my favorite parts. if we were lucky, maybe we got to split a bear claw, or she'd drive past starbucks and get us something there too (tall vanilla soy steamer with one pump of vanilla syrup, whipped cream on top that always melted too quickly and squirted out the hole in the lid, so hot it burned my tongue but so good i didn't care). i have never felt more at home than i do when i'm surrounded by books.

"There are a lot of different types of freedom. We talk about freedom the same way we talk about art, like it was a statement of quality rather than a description. “Art” doesn’t mean good or bad. Art just means art. It can be terrible and still be art. Freedom can be good or bad, too. There can be terrible freedom. You freed me, and I didn’t ask you to." — Alice Isn't Dead, season 1, chapter 2: Alice

as cringey as it is to admit it, this line made me cry a lot after my breakup.

"So you aren't American?" asked Shadow.

"Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

[side-eyes white america real hard]

there's more, of course. there's always more. don't even get me started on song lyrics, we'll be here all day.

lace; what’s your favorite plant/flower?

lilacs and roses.

mermaid; do you prefer the forest or the ocean? why?

both, i guess. but in different ways, and in different circumstances.

the sea is wild. it is endless and deep and unknowable. it is beautiful and dangerous. i am terrified of the ocean, and yet my favorite place in the world is an empty beach on the oregon coast. i have picked sand from between my toes for days with hair crusted in salt, danced around bonfires and watched the stars while marshmallows burn, gotten pulled under the waves as a child and nearly swept out to sea. picked starfish and crabs from small pools in the rocks, and swum (accidentally) with wild sea lions. in a long skirt, too early in the year to be swimming, i once took off my shoes and waded fully clothed into the water to my waist and just... danced. splashed and kicked and laughed with a boy i barely knew until our throats were sore and our toes were numb, walking home hours later with our soaked clothes clinging to our legs, shoes squelching, dripping algae as we went. the ocean is freeing and overwhelming all at once. i love it and am petrified by it in equal measure.

the forest is beautiful in a different way. it is silent and dense and serene. you are surrounded by life and yet, somehow, completely alone. there is magic in the forest, and history, and even when all else dies, that will remain. the trees grow from the corpses of their ancestors, and some have lived dozens of our lifetimes — with luck, a few dozen more. it is quiet there, peaceful, even the tiniest wood in the middle of a city muffling the outside world through the trees. you can feel the ancient ways deep in your soul as you follow winding paths strewn with fallen leaves, the mystery and wonder and superstitions of your forefathers. you wonder what it would be like, to run your fingers over the moss, to take off your shoes and socks and just run, leaping and dancing over rocks and roots, hair wild and air filling your lungs in deep, pure gulps as you shed the responsibilities and struggles of modern life, for just a moment remembering what freedom tastes like. it is primal, this connection to nature, one we have nearly forgotten over time. and as the sky grows dark and the silence of night presses against you, shadows looming, every footfall deafening, perhaps you begin to understand why some believed in monsters.

honeymoon; do you keep a journal?

i used to. honestly, that's a good idea, i should start doing that again. lord knows i have enough empty journal-type books.

starlight; do you believe in love at first sight and soulmates? why/why not?

i want to. i want to believe there's someone out there for me, the love of my life, someone to whom i'll be the love of their life, and that when i meet them i'll just... know.

but when i met my ex, i didn't really look twice at him for a while — no love at first sight. and when we were together, when i loved him and he swore he loved me back, i thought he hung the stars in the sky and knew i would marry him someday. couldn't even consider the idea that that wouldn't happen. and then when he broke up with me, he ghosted me so suddenly and thoroughly that he even preemptively cut contact with every single one of our mutual friends he thought might side with me in the breakup, before anybody even knew we'd had a fight. so, not soulmates either.

i really want to believe that someday the perfect romance will just fall into place and i can have the happily ever after i've always dreamed of. but the reality is i might never even have another s.o. for the rest of my life. maybe i'll get hit by a car tomorrow, or my hypothetical soulmate moves to argentina to become an alpaca farmer on a mountain somewhere and we never even meet. maybe i'm so traumatized by the betrayal and lies that i'll never have the courage to even try again.

and even so, happily ever after doesn't have to include a fairytale romance, regardless of whether i want it or not. i still like to cling to that hope though, deep down.

princess; what do you value most in people?

i'm going to assume you mean "real people" as in people i have positive relationships with, and not random strangers on the street.

loyalty. kindness. support. humor. similar values. patience. being able to grow together and teach each other things, so we can make each other better. honesty. trust. compassion. confidence. emotional vulnerability. communication. intelligence, or at least a willingness to learn. strength.

#nobody asked me to go this hard and yet here we are #my favorite pasttimes: talking about myself and being pretentious on main #Lady answers stuff #anon good nurse #Lady of Purple's slice of life #ask meme

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currently-evil · 5 years

Text

“My window!!!”

Hey @smuteczekbiczo Do you remember that video? Because i saw it again and lol Its perfect for Jed so i couldn’t stop myself. Also forgive me but Jed here is a Mob boss. I know your cannon is different but i decided to ignore it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

M!Sidestep namely our favourite goblin Jed Hayes, Sidestep’s base infiltrated by nameless vigilante and Jed reluctantly dealing with that

Varning for a bit of gore and minor character death

2074 words

-All right, a little bit to the left. – commanded Jed pointing with his gun to the centre of a big tarp, spread on the floor and even taped to the wall in some places, so that it was neatly covering corner of the room. Beside smell of fresh paint, It was last remnants of renovation.

-Now I have faith in Nehal, but for you Pelago – left is the opposite of right. – he finished, suppressing smirk as Nehal snorted and Pelago send him irritated look grunting out sarcastic: “Thanks Boss”, before they both picked up squirming Callsaver - a minor Vigilante - who somehow managed to find Sidestep’s new base. Not that it matter, now that he was beaten, tied up, gagged, seconds from being killed and bleeding on Jed’s polished floor.

It’s not that Jed was squeamish about blood. Truth to be told – It was quite the opposite - but the base was brand new. They – and ‘they’ of course meant ‘his team’ – literally finished painting few hours ago (Jed was nice enough to stand in the middle of the room and pinpoint all the places they need to repaint – at least until he got bored, then he went out to buy burger and shake.). And - as it turned out in the old base – blood and spilled brain were a nightmare when it comes to cleaning.

Sure they added nice touch to the Villain aesthetic, a little detail that made their last place look exactly how base of Sidestep should look. Dark, chilling, possibly murderous, making hair stood out from fear. But what also comes with them was less than pleasant.

Smell and fucking bugs, among other things. Who would have thought that spilled intestines weren’t really hygienic, right? Something Jed definitely wasn’t going to deal with. Not to mention that, maybe he didn’t care, but It couldn’t be said the same about some of his people. They seem to - almost religiously - avoid stepping on russet stains on the floor. In the last months when they were absolutely everywhere, watching as his team was almost jumping or fucking leaping from one corner of the room to another, like they were in the middle of some kind weird dance was really pissing him off. In moments like this he was really considering if it’s not too late to work alone again.

Sure, there had to be somewhere specialised cleaning units to do just that - get rid of any evidence of violence - but the thought of letting strangers enter his base and snoop around, made Jed uncomfortable. He would have to kill them after they were done (which really denied whole purpose of them in the first place) or clean their minds of any memories and then give then fake ones, so they wouldn’t question empty hole in their minds and...

Jed took a sip from a shake he had in other hand.

... And he was truly too lazy to do that. Too much effort. And beside why should he do that, if he had a loyal subjects, who could – to some degree – take care of that.

So all that was left was to get a new base.

New base that was already somehow infiltrated.

That being said he glanced where Callsaver was and clicked his tongue.

-Not that much to the left! Come on, centre! Centre! Really, am in the only one here with any sense of space? I can’t really explain better where centre is. Between right and left, Pelago, for fuck sake!

It took them a bit of cursing and lots of irritated looks (He might even heard Nehal telling vigilante: “Dude, stop squirming.” which made Jed snort. It’s not like he was about to die or something.), but at least they managed to position him just right. Jed took a last uninterested look sipping his drink and raised his guns, finger emotionlessly tightening on the trigger.

Callsaver slumped against the wall Nehal and Pelago were pining him to and Jed considered his work. The droplets of blood and grim covered almost all the space on the sheet of plastic but as far as he could see none of them were on the wall.

Nodding to himself he said:

-Perfect, I am proud of me. – then noticing that his shake was gone he added. – Hurry up. We’re going for some shakes.

Nehal and Pelago smiled to themselves from where they were checking Callsaver’s pockets (“The deadman don’t fucking need spare change” argued always Pelago.), or well his boots (It was just Nehal’s size! Finding nice pair for her small feet was a nightmare and she wasn't about to let that pair slip.) and chuckled, leaning closer to themselves.

-Do you think he is going to actually pay this time? – she asked hissing in triumph when she managed to take off one boot. – Or rather use his favourite excuse: “Opsie Daisy I have seem to left my wallet in my other Villain suit!”

In answer Pelago smirked.

-I don’t think he even have wallet anymore. Didn’t he burn it down? Something about ‘at least i stop finding pictures of that fucking idiot in it’ or something?

Nehal was just about to answer, but before she could - suddenly there was a loud crash and the room was full of glass shards.

They all gaped at the man who jumped through window, rolled on the floor like it was some sort of action movie, before standing up and dramatically proclaiming:

-Let him go!

Nehal and Pelago exchanged quick look before glancing down at the definitely dead Callsaver.

-Ops – said quietly Nehal, her voice absolutely devoid of any trace of remorse.

-It’s not so bad... – murmured Pelago, eyeing the corpse. – Maybe he won’t notice.

-What? A whole hole in his forehead?

-Yeah. – he just shrugged. – It’s not he was using his head anyway. No harm done.

-Oh my god, I can’t believe you said that.

It seem only when nobody answered him directly, staring in silence, did hero look around, because second he did he froze blinking heavily. Probably because he saw quite dead Callsaver, before him, together with Pelago trying to quickly hide deadman’s wallet in his pocket and Nehal, who not knowing what exactly to with one boot, just threw it away as soon as hero looked at her. And then there was also Jed, gaping at the – now broken window – with empty shake in one hand and gun in second.

-You killed him – said the newcomer confused. Not even scared or sad, just confused. – Why did you kill him...?

-My window... – said Jed quietly but with so much irritation that everybody in the room flinched and even Zaza and Ward showed in the doorway alarmed.

-Oh fuck – murmured Zaza.

-Why did you kill him...?

-We have a front door! - interrupted him Jed hissing, gesturing with gun in the general direction where doors were. -Painting was just finished so it’s wide fucking open to ventilate!- Just when he said that he leaned to the right peering around the corner to see that door were indeed wide open.

Jed squinted at hero.

-Are you fucking blind or something?

-Didn’t you tell him your backstory and evil plan? – said newcomer not even acknowledging what Jed said, making him turn to hero with fury in his eyes.

-What? No! Its none of your fucking business. For fuck sake why would I? I don’t need free therapy, I already have one battery like idiot for that! – his eyes trailed back to the window. – Oh for fuck sake, I will have to steal so much money for that. Ward, can you get me an estimate on that? – he asked ignoring again hero.

Ward looked up on window, raised eyebrows and looking back to Jed said only, shrugging:

-Money.

Jed pursed his lips.

-I don’t know what I was expecting.

This seem to wake up hero from shocked stillness, as he blinked and straightening screamed:

-You’re going to pay for your crimes!

-Yeah of course I am going to pay. – Jed scowled at hero. – Who else will? I am pretty sure you don’t have a cash on you to pay me for damage. Check? Debit card? Anything?

When Hero only blinked at him Jed closed his eyes murmuring under his nose about ‘fucking heroes, doing everything they want without even thinking about others’. And then again ignoring newcomer, he added exasperated:

-Excuse me can somebody call Frank and tell him we need new window?

-On it boss. – said Zaza.

-What...? You can’t ignore me like that! – screamed hero almost drowning Jed’s murmurs about ‘rude as fuck heroes without manners’ and how ‘when he was younger people don’t fucking shattered your windows just to be extra’. He was so distracted at being dismissed he didn’t even notice Nehal and Pelago sneaking up from behind until they both lounged at him forcing him to concentrate on them.

At the same time Jed – completely blind to the mayhem – contemplated mess around him.

It was new, perfect base and the renovation went surprisingly smooth and quickly. He managed to find perfect windows. Everything was going so well and now his Villain’s base was ruined! With distaste Jed remembered that there were reports about rain later today, which meant that this gaping hole where used to be window needs to be taped down with foil.

Absolutely disgusting.

Now he needs to let in more people to replace this, which mean more people to clean their minds.

Jed curled his finger around cup until plastic started squeaking from force. This was so fucking irritating.

-And what’s with this colour? – asked hero cheekily while ducking from Nehal’s punch and blocking Pelago’s attack. – This is the weirdest shade of purple I have ever seen. Like somebody eat blue and pink cotton candy and then vomited.

Before Jed was seriously pissed but now, now he was furious.

-It’s a Midnight Blue Indigo, you colorblind fuck! – he growled, turning on his heels and chugging plastic cup to hit hero right in the middle of forehead.

Impact of cup to his head made poor vigilante almost fall, and before he could try regain his balance, he was kicked in the chest. Stumbling backwards he was suddenly perfectly between spread out plastic sheet…

...And Jed’s raised gun.

Shoot ringed in the air and hero joined his dead companion.

For a second there was just the sound of ringing shot, interrupted briefly by Nehal and Pelago panting - and then there was Bo in the doorway happily announcing to everybody:

-Hey guys! – he said holding up roll of foil. – I found foil! Now we can “wrap it up” and get going. – he giggled. – Get it? Wrap it up? Eh? Eh? – It seems only when nobody answered him Bo realised something was wrong.

He blinked surprised seeing glass shards everywhere, then his eyes trailed across the room taking in all the details, until his eyes stopped on the bodies. Bodies. Not one body.

He looked down on his roll of foil, then again at bodies then again at foil. Foil that might have been enough for one body but definitely not for two.

-I will... look for more. – he mumbled defeated, leaving the room at the same time Zaza came back, ending his call.

-Boss – he said making Jed stop with fury cursing all the damn Heroes. – Frank said It would be two weeks before he will have a new window.

-Oh for fuck sake – hissed Jed with anger turning to pill of bodies fuelling his anger in one last kick.

Zaza side eyed him carefully and when Jed seem to calm down a bit, he cleared his throat.

-Boss, do you take constructive criticism?

Jed leveled him with annoyed gaze.

-No, i absolutely do not.

-But don’t you think these windows are a bit too... – Zaza raise one eyebrow watching remained windows. Big, round and consisting of one-way mirror.- ... hmm eye-catching for a secret villain base?

-Shut up – hissed Jed, looking at him from behind his shoulder

-No shake for you – he finished after moment of glowering.

Zaza blinked shocked.

-What? You weren’t going to buy me one anyway!

-Yes, but now you wont get one ever again.

#Jed Hayes #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero #no spoilers i think #all jed wants is just to kill people in peace #leave him be #writing

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mysteli · 6 years

Text

Endless Summer Imperfect - Chapter 18

A/N: Hey! Finally here is another chapter of my ES series. This chapter took me a while to write but I really enjoyed developing the story more. May be some sensitive themes like mentions of torture/abuse and emotional traumas so please be warned. 💜

Warning: T

ES IMPERFECT TAG: @princesstopgun@mechaspirit @xo-endlessmayhem-xo@endlessly-searching-for-you@brightpinkpeppercorn@aragornesprincessgeekymamma@justboredtrash @diego-vii@indiacater@countrymusicandncis-blog@zigortega4life@nekkidmolerat@ravengalaxia@ladyseaheart1668 @endless-jake@theendofallsummers

Masterlist

Imperfect Masterlist

Endless Summer Aftermath - Ending 1

Imperfect

Chapter 18 - Silent But Deadly

Estela

It feels like it’s been forever since she’s seen the light of day. Why can’t Estela remember the last time she did something normal? Something regular. That everyone would do. She can’t remember a time where something crazy wasn’t daring to knock on her door. But ever since she started getting these nightmares... nothing has been normal. Nothing has been the same. Nothing has brought out that happy side of Estela. Just that cold, dull side that people always seem to notice but never question.

Everything has felt so unbalanced and uneven. Even after everything, Estela still feels like she doesn’t belong in this world. Like there’s an entirely different dimension waiting for her. A place that makes sense for her and Estela hates feeling like a void in this vast world. Hell, she should be grateful. She’s here and alive. Yet she feels like she hasn’t seen the world for ages. Like she hasn’t laid her eyes on another human for a while. Like her eyes have been closed for too long.

Maybe it’s just because of everything that’s happened and she’s starting to feel like she can’t process the situation. Maybe the mystery has finally caught up to her and looking for her mother was a huge mistake. That’s probably it. Maybe she’s just crazy.

...Or maybe she’s not.

Estela’s senses finally return and a land of darkness is revealed to her. A bleak view of absolutely nothing. No reflection or sign of life. Just emptiness. That’s when Estela realises her eyes are closed. Cautiously, she opens them... but nothing changes. Once again, she’s sat in darkness, no light to guide her to the truth. There’s just a blackened background, like the world has been painted over with lies. Each one a human dared to tell. Estela feels as though she’s looking at the ugly truth of the world, what it really looks like. Like it’s perfect surface had been torn off and only the darkness that was always there remains.

A stupid theory, really, yet it still makes sense and it’s still so clear to Estela’s eyes.

But it’s still nothing. There are no clear signs to where Estela is or how long she’s been here. Who knows how long she’s been asleep, since she doesn’t remember anything and for some reason... she feels as though she can’t move. Like she’s paralysed. Maybe it’s fear or something more severe. Whatever it is, it’s not helping.

Estela tries to heave herself up, summoning all the strength in her arsenal to drag herself to her feet. So much effort and so much pain with absolutely no luck. A strained growl escapes her and her veins pop with exhaustion as she barely makes it to her feet.

However it doesn’t long because almost immediately she’s dragged back down to the seating position she was once in, when her previous sleeping state was triumphant and it seems as though it would rise again, as she feels a yawn threatening to leave her mouth as a sign of exhaustion.

But Estela refuses to sleep again. It’s almost like there’s some sort of gas controlling her emotions and feelings, deciding what she’s to do and not to do.

In the darkness, there’s nothing to see so Estela can only focus on the sounds she hears as a way to identify where she is. Clearly there’s some kind of weight attached to her or some kind of magnetic pull dragging her to the position she’s in and it isn’t comfortable at all. Estela starts to carefully shake her hands and only then does a rare sound startle her.

The sharp rattling of heavy chains ignites as Estela roughly shakes her grasp, only now feeling the cool metal attached to her skin. Why the hell couldn’t she feel that before? It’s almost like all her feelings had been numbed during her time asleep and only now were they being restored. Estela couldn’t be more relieved. Finally, she realises that she’s being contained somewhere. Perhaps as a prisoner but by who? What the hell happened?

She has zero memory of any of these events. Everything is so unclear. Estela’s head is aching with a lost adrenaline that is still running through her for some reason, paining her more than it’s helping her. Lightheaded and dazed, she attempts to stand again, only being yanked back down the same as before.

Starting to feel hopeless, her hearing pipes up when she begins to hear the faded sound of a soft, melodic voice singing rather whispery. To others it would seem impossibly quiet but to Estela it’s never been more clear.

I don’t... wanna know...

Estela’s breath catches in her throat when she immediately recognises the lyrics and the song. The meaning of each word is vitally important to her. The way they’re sung. The way they’re expressed. The way they’re drifting off the tongue so melodically. It goes right through Estela’s roughly beating heart, only then does she realise how fast her heart is pounding - like that of a bass drum.

...without each other... it’s just too hard...

...I don’t wanna leave... here without you...

As that last note is dragged on for a few more peaceful seconds, Estela closes her eyes, sealing them shut as she takes in every word as if her life depends on it. It’s almost impossible to not think of this song as torture just because of how familiar her is and how much it resembles her mother.

I don’t wanna lose... part of me...

...will I recover... that broken piece...

...Let go... and unleash...

...all the feelings...

Sung so beautifully but so damn painfully at the same time. It almost sounds fake but so damn real at the same time. It’s like hearing love in the form of a song and Estela hates how much peace and pain it brings to her heart. Doesn’t she already have enough weights on her shoulders?

...did we ever see it coming... will we ever let it go...

Estela only knows of this song because there’s a tape of her mother singing it. Not Lila. Her real mother. The one she’d been looking for her entire life. Aside from Estela’s own attempt at drawing her mother’s appearance, the only true thing Estela has of her mother is her voice. A real tape of her voice, singing that song and ever since, Estela has never stopped listening to it, cherishing the memory every time she did. For some reason, Lila locked it away and when Estela came to find it when she was 14, Lila never found out about it. Estela always listened to it when she was alone. It calmed her and gave her a sense of relief.

Hearing it again is just... unimaginable pain.

...We are buried... in broken dreams...

...We are knee-deep without a plea...

...I... don’t wanna know what it’s like...

...to be without you...

...don’t wanna know the other side...

...of a world without you...

The song continues ever so slowly, each word escaping with time and effort like it wants to torture Estela individually. Meanwhile, Estela continues to listen with mixed feelings, tears of endless emotions pooling from her eyes as she tries to enjoy this but can’t find the strength.

She’s completely aware that it’s her own mother singing that track as well and that’s what makes it even more painful. Where the hell is she? What kind of torture chamber is this? Whatever it is, Estela doesn’t care for it and she’d rather die than continue on this path of self destruction.

Finally but oh so suddenly at the same time... the song stops. Pauses without a warning or expectancy. Everything just vanishes and for a moment, Estela is completely bewildered until it’s replaced by an echoey, sour voice expressing into a speaker. Estela scowls, recognising the voice.

“Estela... wasn’t that beautiful?”

Estela doesn’t answer, remaining still and silent - the only sound being the uncontrollable heavy breaths escaping her. The sound of Lila’s horrid tone only brings back monstrous, merciless memories that Estela wouldn’t care to relive but is aware that Lila will force her too.

“No talk? Well then, I guess being separated by a speaker isn’t an ideal way of confrontation.”

“Just get your ass down here so you can tell me what the hell is going on!” Estela demands, her tone cold and harsh but she adds a menacing growl that sends a bitter tension throughout the entire space. She struggles in her chains, a deadly scowl fixed on her face.

“Gladly, Stela. It’ll be nice to catch up. You’ve been out for a couple weeks.”

A couple weeks?! Wait what?!

Weeks? Not mere hours or flying days. Weeks of all things. Estela did mention a feeling rising in her. A voice in her head that was telling her that something wasn’t right and the world didn’t feel as familiar as it used to. Estela feels like she hasn’t the seen the cruel outside in so long and maybe this is the only possible way to explain it. Hell, maybe this is all a dream. A mere figment of her imagination. Estela could have the right demons to create a reality as dark and ridiculous as this is. But she can’t control it and deep down she knows just how real it is but she refuses to admit it to herself.

Her heart sinks with every second and her blood boils from the frustration causing her veins to pop out of her skin, as she impatiently awaits Lila’s arrival. Maybe she’s already here and Estela just can’t see her in the empty darkness.

Just as that thought crosses her mind, a blinding light flashes on, dim but still enough to startle Estela from the impact of such light. Perhaps since she hasn’t had the opportunity to witness light in such a long time. She can’t even explain what’s happening anymore. One moment everything was okay. Then Lila came knocking on her door and...

That’s all.

Estela can’t remember anything else. Her mind goes blank the second she tries to reminisce on any other past events. What the hell did Lila do to her mind? How badly did she mess it up, more than she already had?

All of a sudden, the deafening sound of a door creaking open, made of harsh metal that grinds on the floor like chalk on a board, startles Estela out of her trance. She snaps her head to the destination of the disruption and her eyebrows arch viciously when she notices Lila stepping into the room, which now appears to be some sort of iron cell and the vile smell finally numbs over Estela’s nose. Lila carries a mischievous smirk with her at the damaged sight of Estela and only then does the brunette have the chance to scan her exterior, shocked at the sights of fresh scars and wounds tainted on her tan body and only then does she also realise how much pain it’s causing her.

Damn... how numb was she?

As Lila dares to get closer to Estela, a bitter tension is caught between them, sending messages through deadly glares and unforgiving scowls, ones that show an emotion that expresses the way they feel about each other. So much hatred has been built up like bricks over the years, at least that’s what Estela was set to believe.

But is Lila truly the person she always said she was? Of course not. No one is ever who they say are or who they claim to be. Everyone always turns out to be fake and pretending to be someone they’re not. Finding someone genuine is like finding out hell is truly a heaven. Really, what are the odds of that? Impossible.

Lila pauses for a moment, leaning back against the brick wall and folding her arms in a solemn manor, scanning Estela’s damaged demeanour as carefully as possible - not bothering to focus on the furious snarl she’s receiving from the one she betrayed and who’s mother she murdered in cold blood.

As the tension slowly increases, Lila finally clears her throat, the sound echoing throughout the cell and Estela’s stiffens at the sound, her chains creaking as she flinches slightly.

“...You understand what that song is, right?” Lila speaks in a cold, tone, her expression still cursed with a deceiving smirk that angers Estela when she even dares to glance at the sight. That’s the same smirk that was planted when Lila pulled the trigger on Olivia.

Estela just hangs her head in shame, closing her eyes and sighing heavily, which Lila seems to take as a nod of agreement.

“It’s a symbol.” Lila answers, her hands moving to her hips and her dark eyes narrow as she doesn’t dare to tear her eyes away from Estela. “Tell me Estela. What is it a symbol of?”

Estela doesn’t answer, remaining still and silent, not willing to give in to Lila’s malicious games. She’s not completely aware of what Lila is capable of but judging by her past of murder, it seems like the possibilities of torture are endless. But Estela isn’t one to lose herself so easily and she intends to defend herself, no matter how painfully weak she truly feels.

When Estela doesn’t respond, Lila’s impatience begins to grow, a vicious huff escaping her mouth. With irritation in her eyes, Lila creeps up towards Estela until she’s hovering over her, her heavy breaths echoing throughout the small cell. Estela is seated on a cold, iron bed of sorts (if that’s what it supposed to be), so cold it may as well feel like the artic, like sitting on a block of ice and the cold metal burns her skin in a strange way - a hurtful way that she can’t explain. All she knows is that she’s only just starting to really feel it.

Lila pauses once she’s hovering over Estela, her head remaining hung and her gaze staring at the dusty floor, watching the small crinkles of dirt drifting freely on the ground. Even that is something she envies while she’s trapped in this situation. Estela can still sense the anguish in Lila’s blood-thirsty gaze, even when she isn’t looking directly at her.

“Look at me, Stela.” Lila orders, calmly at first but her deadly glare deepens when Estela refuses once more. “Look. At. Me.”

This time her tone is more forced and commanding, immediately giving Estela no choice but to glance up and meet Lila’s evil eyes. It’s truly painful to even look into them and Estela can’t bare the worst scenarios playing over and over in her head.

Lila takes a moment to glare at Estela, despising this disobedient side of her that she always hated anyway but in this situation, it’s the worst possible time to use such a strategy.

Without warning and so suddenly, Lila launches the fist at Estela’s scarred face and punches her straight in the jaw as violently as she can, instantly leaving a mark that would last for a few days. Maybe even weeks. With a look of no regret, Lila relaxes her fist, still keeping it clenched and is still impatient when she sees the blank look on Estela’s face. She barely flinches from the blood dripping from her lip and the fact that she took the punch so well impresses Lila a little. It was almost like she was expecting it, expecting Lila to be violent but is it the same as being abusive?

Estela’s eyes just darken and there’s still no emotion within them. With that, Lila just shakes her head and arches her eyebrows, gripping the brunette’s chin and tilting it up so they lock deadly gazes, which only fuels the current tension.

“Answer the question... Stela. What is it a symbol of?” Lila dares to ask again and this time, Estela has no choice but to answer. She almost feels controlled too. Like death is looming if she doesn’t again.

“...My mother.”

“And why is it related to your mother?” Lila bombards Estela with another question, forcefully letting go of her chin. This is almost starting to feel like an interrogation.

“...Because that’s her singing it.” Estela mutters with hesitance, heavy pants escaping her in between words. She’s so worn out and she can’t figure out why.

Lila smirks deviously, taking a cautious step back of a chained Estela, who’s fists have clenched to stop Lila from seeing her veins exploding with anguish and slight fear. They’re almost calling out like a warning or an empty threat.

“And how do you know that?” Lila questions, her dark eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Estela hangs her head in shame once more, a painful mental image of her mother painted in her fucked up mind. She can’t tell what the hell is happening and only Lila seems like the single way to find out where she is. But why would Lila even tell Estela? This is basically kidnapping.

“...Because I found a tape you hid away when I was 14. I kept it and played it every damn day.” Estela relents, sucking in a sharp breath and starting to feel hopeless, obligated to surrender.

Lila’s smirk widens at that revelation. “And that’s how you knew so much of your mother. All this time... you’ve known of who she was and what she was like and you didn’t confront me once.”

“I was grieving... because I thought she was dead.” Estela is reluctant to mention those last few words but if she can get the angered side of Lila to show, then her confusion and weakness will crack through too.

Hearing that, Lila’s eyes widen slightly but she tries to hide her surprise as much as possible. “She is dead.” Lila corrects, furrowing her brows in disbelief.

Starting to get the upper hand, Estela slowly raises her head and quirks an eyebrow at Lila, her own smirk forming while Lila’s starts to die. “No she’s not. She’s alive... and you know where she is.” Estela reveals, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders, slightly greased but not as much as you’d expect it to be after a few weeks.

Lila staggers back, stunned. “Stela... where the fuck did you hear that?”

“Should I really tell you or will you just slap me again?” Estela asks in her own strong tone, her blood really starting to boil.

“I can and I will if you don’t answer my goddamn question.” Lila threatens Estela again and it only earns a yawn from her.

“I’m sick of your empty threats. Just tell me where the fuck I am and why I’ve been knocked out for weeks? Why don’t I remember anything? I feel numb and drugged. I look like I’ve died a hundred times. So just tell me what the fuck is going on? You can torture me all the fuck you want but I will not answer any more of your questions. I’m not scared of you.” Estela rants with so much passion and drive in her tone and the feeling spreads around the whole room, filling her own heart with life again. Right now, she feels powerful and tough, like she could break these chains if she really tried.

Capturing the determination in Estela’s words, Lila hangs in her head, wiping the nervous sweat drifting slowly down her face. She’s the weak one in the situation now and not even she can deny that. Now Lila wants the power back.

“You’re not scared? Even when you saw me kill your mother... in cold blood... with your own eyes.” Lila challenges Estela and for a moment, she stiffens, not daring to reminisce on that unbearable moment. All Estela can do is remain still and gathered, not letting Lila get in her head.

“Especially since I saw you kill my mother. Because you didn’t. She’s alive and I bet you she’s close... and you’re scared. I can tell by the look on your face.” Estela suggests in a cold tone, causing Lila to tense up.

Suddenly feeling so defensive, Lila paces over to Estela and in a flash, swings a swift punch at her one more, getting her cleanly in her jaw. Yet Estela composes herself immediately, her scowl deepening and she was expecting that one definitely. The certainty in her dark eyes reveals it all.

“You bitch.” Lila murmurs with so much anguish that her intended whisper becomes a deafening echo. She definitely feels defeated and using anger is the only way to hide it or at least try to cure it.

The corner of Estela’s lip twitches up with mischief, while the lower part drips with blood. “That what you said to Olivia before you locked her away?”

Lila scowls at that insinuation. Estela is clearly just trying to get in her head or even track down the truth. Hell, she sure is going down the right path. “Shut up.”

With that, Lila turns and starts to walk away on heavy feet, each step causing to floor to screech and her blood boils from all the shock and anger built up. Estela watches with menacing gaze, her eyes burning into the target on Lila’s back and she can almost feel that as pain.

Before Lila can exit, Estela rattles her chains violently and calls out to her in a harsh tone. “Damnit Lila, tell me where the hell I am!” Her voice could make the world shake and it definitely shook the world in Lila’s head, whatever messed up shit she has living in her mind.

Reluctantly but still too angered to care, Lila swerves and instinctively pulls out her gun, aiming it directly at Estela - tired of all the shitty threats and empty warnings. Now she has full control because she has the worst kind of threat in her hands. Death.

Estela is shocked at first, her eyes widening slightly and the pace of her heart increasing with each passing moment. Would Lila actually do it? Would she actually shoot Estela?

Slowly, Lila creeps up towards Estela, clutching the gun with both her hands with so much hesitation in her eyes. “Don’t,” is all she manages to say, her own eyes watering from all the anticipation. She hates it. Never did she ever think about killing Estela. No. Not Estela. But now it may have come to this solution. “Don’t ask anymore questions or I will... shoot you.”

“You’ve already tortured me to my limit, I can tell, so you’re basically just finishing your own job, right?” Estela keeps a blank expression, trying to not show her true fear.

For some reason, she feels like she’s been in this position before. Held at gunpoint. With someone familiar on the receiving end while Estela dares them, dares them to actually do it - which they’ve really had the courage too. They never do it but Estela can’t remember being in such a situation. There’s just that gut feeling that’s telling her to be wary and a voice in her head says that she’s definitely done this before. Maybe one time... she was on the receiving end.

With that an image pops in Estela’s mind, an image in an extremely advanced technologically lab with two people standing opposite one another, their faces blurred at first. One is standing with their hands held up in surrender and defence, like they’re to stop something horrific from happening but there’s also a look of guilt surrounding them. Slowly, the blur dissolves and the real person can be identified as... Lila. Then there’s the one of the other side, clutching a gun just like Lila is now but there’s a look of pain and anguish on their face. They look like they’re ready to pull the trigger but they also have those doubts circling them, alerting them that it’s the wrong choice. Slowly, the blur disappears and the lost face of... Estela appears.

The last thing seen is Estela dropping the gun and Lila yanking it instead and pulling the trigger by her head, before letting her limp corpse collapse.

Suddenly, Estela feels a wave of realisation washing over her, something she hasn’t experienced before. “We’ve been like this before.” She acknowledges and that causes Lila to raise an eyebrow in bewilderment.

“Like what?” Lila asks, her voice remaining harsh. She stays wary in case Estela’s intentions are to distract her.

“Like this. One of us being held at gunpoint.” Estela states blankly, clutching the chains that trap her.

Lila suddenly consumes herself with surprise, her grip on the gun tightening. “You... remember?”

“Not everything. But I know that there is a big part of my life that I’m missing. It’s there but I can’t remember it. Only small parts are coming back to me... including this moment.” Estela explains, staring up at the dim light which now only lights up the centre of the cell, leaving her in a dark, deserted corner.

Lila seems skeptical, keeping a firm grasp on her weapon of choice. “That doesn’t mean you remember then... but just so you know, you have nearly killed me once.”

“And I don’t even know why I’m not surprised.” Estela mutters, hanging her head in shame and guilt, which even leaves a hole in Lila’s heart, even though she should remain motionless.

As soon as Lila begins to feel remorse, she shakes away the feeling immediately, stopping the grasp on the gun from weakening and keeping it pointed at Estela as she starts to slowly back away.

“It doesn’t matter now, Stela. This is the present and you’ll always be the one on the receiving end. So stop reminiscing and focus on the new experiences... and trust me, they’ll be plenty of torture along the way. So sit back and relax, Stela. All your questions will be answered soon but it won’t be me providing them. You and your father will have endless things to talk about.”

With that, Lila finally lowers her gun and exits the cell, violently slamming the door behind her and the sound shakes the cell with fear. Meanwhile, Estela is left in a complete and utter state of shock.

What the hell is she talking about? Her father...

Logan

Ocean eyes burning into the piece of weaponry, Logan closely eyes the violent method of protection provided to her by Mike. He gave it to her a few weeks before she decided to stay with him for her own safety since Rourke is now out to get her. Mike even had the kindness to let Diego stay as well, all to stop anyone from getting maliciously slaughtered by the Hydra.

Still, after three weeks, they’ve only made slight progress when it comes to finding Jake. There hasn’t been many ways to go out undetected. Mike is a famous fugitive to the law, the most obvious one at this point. People recognise him in an instant. Of course, then there’s Logan and Diego, who are basically targets for Rourke’s plan to take over the world and they’re both objects in this way, which probably labels them as criminals either way since he practically owns the law and can do whatever the fuck he wants with it.

This way of life is the furthest thing from normal and all Logan really wants is her husband back. That’s really the only reason she’s doing this. Of course, she wants everyone to be happy but the main reason she’s doing this is for Jake’s happiness. So he’s not being tortured by no greedy entrepreneur. Even if costs Logan everything in the end, including her memories, she’ll give it all up for the man she loves. So he’s happy.

Apparently that’s what she was gonna do back on the island by sacrificing herself so what should the difference be now?

Logan admires all of the weapons gifted to her by Mike. He owns a lot of violent weapons and he assures that it’s only for self-defence or protection. Who knows where he got all of this? He claims he’s been saving it for a special occasion. The idea was for Logan to pick certain ones and use them when they attack the place wherever Jake is to let him escape. For good.

It causes Logan great pain to even dare think about how long Jake has been trapped in that camp place. Four weeks. Four weeks of complete and utter torture. Who knows what other shit he’s had to go through and he may now be giving up on the thought of his wife ever finding him? Hell, maybe he’s relieved that she may have listened to him when he said don’t go looking for him. Make the most of your memories while you’ve still got them, he said. But hell no is Logan gonna back down. In fact, Mike has managed to get some traces of where some evidence might be. Bad thing is... it’s in the Hartfeld Police Station

Mike said something about some records of every criminal arrested in Hartfeld and Jake was obviously one of them. Since he’s definitely not in Hartfeld, it’s best for them to find that file and learn where the hell Jake was shipped off to and if they’re lucky, exactly where. This might be their only chance to find another lead and discover Jake’s location.

Logan is desperate now. It’s been too long and she NEEDS to find Jake... before she loses her memories.

Finally, Logan grabs one of the guns and holds it up, scanning the dark exterior of it carefully. Taking a deep breath, she slides in the inner pocket of her jacket (Jake’s jacket to be precise. Ever since he left it with her, she never stops wearing it) and takes a quick glance at her damaged reflection in the mirror. Logan truly can’t believe she’s been living in an abandoned house with Mike and Diego for three weeks. It’s crazy that this is what her life has come, counting all of the events on the island. She never thought she’d end up so broken, searching for scraps of the man that left her behind for her own protection and she doesn’t blame Jake for that. She may just love him even more for it.

Trying her best to fix her platinum hair, Logan straightens the strands as slowly as she can but it doesn’t work too well. Instead, she just gives up and exits the bedroom she’d been living in. Surprisingly, this old house did carry two bedrooms with it’s name and it’s an acceptable house, even if there are some holes in the walls and floors and cracks in the windows. It’s still been an okay way to live and Mike made a great discovery when he found this house. Having three people living there is difficult, as there are only two bedrooms but Mike made the kind sacrifice of sleeping on the dusty couch, while Logan and Diego took the spruced up bedrooms that Mike had spent a few hours cleaning up so they weren’t as uncomfortable.

Diego has been helping out a lot in finding Jake as well, since he’s just as desperate to find his own soulmate, Vaaryn. Everyone has come to some kind of conclusion that the Catalysts are gaining their memories thanks to their soulmates mostly. But the worry is if the answer is a soulmate then what about the ones who’s soulmates aren’t obvious? Jake and Logan are now a clear pair of soulmates, as well as Diego and Vaaryn. But what about everyone else? How the hell is it gonna work? Hopefully it isn’t just soulmates. Hopefully there’s another way to save everyone and not sure the ones with love, otherwise Logan will be guilty forever.

Logan paces down the stairs, the creak of the wood echoing in her ears after each daring step she takes. Once she makes it into the small living room, which is almost completely empty - the only space filled with a shredded corner couch, a 90’s television and an oak wood coffee table, Logan notices Mike, seated on the corner couch with a coffee beside him on the table. There’s paper scattered all over the table and he’s scanning it ever so carefully, suspicion in his chestnut eyes.

Wood creaks as Logan crosses another floorboard, startling Mike out of his deep trance.

He snaps his head towards the direction of the sound and he smiles weakly when he spots Logan, slightly guilty that she interrupted. “Oh. Hey, Lo. Didn’t see you there.” Mike greets her with a distracted tone and Logan can’t help but be curious.

“You okay? You look... startled.” Logan tells him honestly, moving so she’s sitting on the dirty armrest of the couch, her eyes scanning the papers on the table.

Mike releases a heavy sigh and hands Logan one of the papers, keeping another in his hand and gesturing to the title. “Found these back in Costa Rica before I left. Took them with me but I never really looked at them until now.”

Logan skims over the paper, trying to understand what it is. “What are they?”

“Those folders that Rourke kept of all of you on the island. The ones he wrote about all your strengths and weaknesses and when he labelled you with symbols. Somehow they ended up with me and I don’t how they got there. Think I’m starting to see a link between all of you.” Mike explains, realising he’s holding up Logan’s folder and he offers it to her. Curious, she takes it immediately and reads through it once more, only then does it dawn on her that she hasn’t read this in a long time.

“Damn... I can’t believe these still exist. There’s so many glitches in Rourke’s supposedly powerful machine that I don’t know how he ever thought it was ready.” Logan acknowledges, her eyes darting to the symbol stamped in the left corner of the page, as well as a picture of her used. It almost looks like someone was watching her when it was taken. “Andromeda.” She whispers, remembering how important that symbol used to be. Maybe it still is. It tied her to the Vaanti. It tied her to the stars. It tied her to the Endless. It even tied her to her soulmate. Now... it seems to have come back to haunt her.

Mike glances at Logan, noticing how enraptured she is in the familiarity of the symbol, her pale fingers grazing the marked stamp. “It still means something.” Mike states suddenly, causing Logan to furrow her eyebrows and lift her head.

“What? The symbol?”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking. These folders show how Rourke felt about you all. What he thought your strengths and weaknesses were. And I think he knew how important those symbols are.” Mike hesitates for a moment, folding his arms and stroking his jaw thoughtfully.

“Come on, Mike. Just tell me. If it’s crazy, I can handle it.” Logan assures and Mike reluctantly meets her eyes, sighing heavily.

“Okay... Rourke only ever mentions things if they matter. He doesn’t waste his time investigating things that mean nothing. These symbols are important or he wouldn’t have made them so obvious when he stamped them on these. He wants to remember them because he knows how special they make you. These ties have to be the key... maybe they’re the answer to making everyone remember.” Mike explains, keeping his eyes fixed on the Andromeda symbol on the piece of paper. He can’t believe how crazy this theory is but it’s crazy enough that Logan has a chance of believing it.

“Wait... what about the whole soulmate thing making them remember?” Logan asks, intrigued by this theory.

“That ties in too actually.” Mike responds, searching the table for a certain folder and he ends up retrieving Jake’s from the far end of the table. He opens it and points to the symbol engraved on the corner. “I think it’s the similarities between the story of your zodiac that makes you and Jake soulmates. I don’t know exactly where it comes from but I know it can’t be a coincidence. I’m not sure about Diego but there has to something in here that makes sense.”

Logan starts to notice how stressed Mike is beginning to get and she quickly pulls him in for a comforting hug as an attempt to calm him down. After a long moment, Logan breaks the embrace and thankfully, Mike seems more soothed.

“What was that for?” Mike asks, the corner of his lips twitching up and almost forming a half-smile.

“You were going a little crazy.” Logan giggles, forming her own genuine smile - the first one in a while.

“Well, thanks. I just really wanna find these answers. Think I’m gonna keep looking through these folders in case there’s something that might help.” Mike states, running a hand through black hair and wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Trust me, the zodiacs is progress. I think we’re finally getting somewhere.” Logan assures and all Mike can’t help but is raise his eyebrows curiously at the blond. “What?”

“How are you so staying strong throughout all of this? I haven’t seen you cry once.” Mike questions, careful and cautious about words he used.

Logan hangs her head and closes her eyes. “That’s because I don’t let anyone see me when I do break down. Truth is, I’m only staying tough for Diego... and Jake, of course. But Diego misses Vaaryn more than anything and I’m just getting scared that we might never find them.” She admits, her heart sinking in her chest.

“Hey, kid. Don’t beat yourself up. We’ll find them. I promise. Jake’s out there. He’s just hidden.”

All of a sudden, the deafening sound of a phone ringing interrupts the comforting moment and Logan realises quickly that it’s hers vibrating violently in her pocket, forcing her to answer it. She checks the caller and is surprised by what she sees.

“Who is it?” Mike questions, noticing the worry on her expression.

“...I don’t know.” Logan admits, answering the phone and bringing it to her ear. She remains silent, waiting for the caller to speak first. An echo appears on the other side and Logan seems to recognise the voice.

“Logan Mercer? Are you there?”

Logan’s ocean eyes narrow when she finds familiarity in the voice. “Rebecca.” She says rather harshly, remembering that Rebecca was the one who arrested Jake in the first place.

“Yeah... I know you’re angry with me.”

Arching her eyebrows, Logan can feel herself being consumed by frustration. “Of course I’m angry. You locked my husband away and he’s your brother as well.”

“Look... he’s not actually in prison. He’s in a top secret camp and I can help you get there... if you’d just trust me.”

“...I don’t trust you. You could work for Rourke.” Logan states, throwing her hands on her hips as the suspicion only seems to grow. Catching on to the sound of Rourke’s name, Mike’s attention is captured and he listens in on the phone call.

“I promise you I wanna help Jake escape. It’s the only way to make sure he’s safe. Arresting him was wrong.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Logan questions, her breathing increasing at the mention of Jake’s name but she remains skeptical of his own sister.

“He’s innocent. Lundgren basically told me that he’s the one to blame not Jake.”

Wait. Lundgren’s alive? No. No. No. That can’t be good for Jake. I swear he was dead... Mike killed him. Clearly killed him. Oh... like everyone else. He’s been reborn.

“Well... I don’t know. You’re his sister, which makes us family but... you could just as easily be on Rourke’s side.”

“I’ll prove it to you. Meet me at the airport in three hours and I’ll take you London.”

“London? Why?” Logan questions, taken aback by Rebecca’s suggestion.

“Because that’s where Jake is.”

Jake

Three weeks. Three filthy more weeks in this hell hole. The first week was awful in its own but an extra three is a whole other story. You’d think it would have turned like the movies and Jake would be outta this dump by now. But no. This is real life and no has come to his rescue. Hell, Jake can’t even help himself because of all the crap around him. It’s all so horrible. The constant torture. Hardly any food and his only entertainment seems to be Vaaryn. Jake hasn’t been visited by Rourke as many times as he used to. Perhaps the bastard finally got bored and accepted that Jake wouldn’t ever give in. Now there’s just guards that check in every couple hours. They especially weren’t thrilled when they saw Jake had broken through their supposedly unbreakable chains. They had to replace them and warned that if Jake ever broke them again, he’d be spent to live with the animals - whatever the hell that means.

Jake is finding trouble to function without his wife beside him. Logan seems so far away now since he hasn’t seen her in a full month. It’s plain torture all on its own and knowing that Rourke is out there looking for her only makes it worse. Jake hasn’t had any alcohol in one what feels like years. He feels hopeless and defeated but he has to stay strong, unlike Vaaryn - who even went as far as taking his own life. Jake hopes he’ll never stoop to that level. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It would only risk Logan’s life even more and that would kill Jake anyway.

Lundgren is Jake’s daily visitor. Threat after threat. Memory after memory. Insult after insult. Torture after torture. Jake feels familiar with the bastard again. All of this was basically their banter but Jake doesn’t get much fun out of it. It’s not always torture. Sometimes he just gets left in an empty cell before he’s brought back to Vaaryn and Jake hasn’t seen his sister in a long while.

Life ain’t too good. Especially when Logan ain’t here.

Lila

Feeling slightly angered from her heated conversation with Estela, Lila storms into Rourke’s office, as she was called in by him through the speaker. She wasn’t as nervous as she was last time. This time she knew Rourke will be proud of her because she finally got Estela and letting know Rourke that she is awake will certainty go down well.

Once again, she finds him settled in the chair at the desk, eyes fixed on her carefully when she walks in. Rourke is so precise when it comes to people and now he’s finally starting to feel confident about his plan. Now everything is falling into place.

“Mr Rourke. You wanted to see me.”

Rourke forms a devious smirk. “Yes. Update me on Estela.”

Lila smiles proudly, eager to share the new information. “She’s awake, sir. And I found out some interesting information about her knowledge on her mother.”

“Yes. And what’s that?”

“She knows Olivia’s alive, sir.” Lila admits and immediately, frustration rises in the eyes of Rourke.

“She WHAT?!” Rourke shouts, the deafening sound erupting throughout the office space and causing the desk to shake from the impact. “I told you, Lila. That’s the one thing Estela is not to find out, not yet, but here we are and Estela knows Olivia’s alive. How did she find out?”

“She didn’t say, sir. I couldn’t get it out of her.” Lila confesses, her gaze falling to the floor as she hangs her head in shame.

Rourke scoffs at that. “Well... I guess all we can do is move on here. We shall go on as planned. I will have a torturous conversation with Estela about being her father but she won’t have the advantage of remembering anything on the island, no matter how much I hint it.

Lila nods along as Rourke explains his plan, her hands falling to her sides as she attempts to straighten up. “Yes, Mr Rourke. It’s perfect. We’ll just work through it.”

Rourke wanders slowly from behind his desk, a smirk forming on his face. “You look like you want to ask a question, Lila.”

“I’m just wondering... you’ve never really showed me where you hid Olivia. I’ve never gotten to see her in the time she’s been revived.” Lila admits, glancing around the office curiously.

“Ah, of course. You wish to see her.” Rourke nods and moves to where the bookcase stands along the wall. There are many lined up but he selects the specific one that is centred in the office. For a moment, a silence takes place and Rourke strokes his chin thoughtfully, eyeing all of the books like he’s looking for a specific one.

Finally, his gaze lands on the book he’s been searching for and one he does is drag it down half way and the bookcase suddenly slides open as if to act as a secret passageway. Except there’s no passageway or even hallway. Nothing will any torches or walls made of bricks. It’s nothing like you’d see in the movies. No. What’s behind that door is a cell... a specific cell. A well-protected cell, containing the most familiar person known to Lila.

Olivia Montoya.

But it’s the Olivia Montoya that Lila knows or knew. She’s cooped up in a dark, deserted corner, dressed in rags, and there’s a deadly glint in her eyes. It’s almost like staring into the gaze of a predator that lost its peace and had no choice but to fulfil a life of cold-blood and betrayal. No, this isn’t Olivia. That’s not the same person. She looks as though she has no control over herself and like she’s about to pounce like some kind of animal. She’s even hissing like a cat when it defends itself.

“Rourke... what’s wrong with her?” Lila asks, disgusted by the new appearance of her old friend.

Rourke just laughs, understanding Lila’s surprise at the changes. “She’s been brain-washed to act like the Vaanti. Well, the way used to act when the Three Tribes’ War was taking place. They were all so animalistic and evil. They’d kill anything for territory. Now here we are and I’ve found a way to put their mind inside another and it’s the perfect soldier for a perfect takeover.”

“Oh my god. She would kill anything at this point.” Lila assumes, feeling shivers from such a sight of a changed Olivia.

Rourke smirks at that mischievously, proud of what he’s created. “It’s a great invention. But don’t worry, Estela isn’t getting the same treatment. I’ve got bigger plans for her.”

Michelle

Feeling strange and unusual, Michelle slowly exits the room on light feet and wanders into the waiting room, not sure what to think about what she just did. Her mind is telling her that it was the right thing to do but her heart is screaming at her, telling her off, asking her why the fuck she did it in the first place.

Truth is, Michelle doesn’t know why or at least she can’t explain it. These past few weeks, Sean and Quinn have been giving her none stop support when it comes to accepting that she had a baby growing in her and one day, it would be her own to hold in her arms. Sean, being the father, is the one who has been worried about a future and what the hell it would hold. It really isn’t clear and his worries are understandable because it’s all Michelle has been thinking about.

Her future.

Is there even one left? All her life, Michelle has always vowed to live her best life with an education and family but only when she’s ready. Truth be told, right now she’s not ready. This isn’t the time to be starting a family. It isn’t right. It can’t be happening, not when there’s so much at stake.

Now Michelle shouldn’t have to think about it anymore. What’s done is done and hopefully now she can move on and forget all about this, without telling anyone that she was ever even with child.

Half of her truly can’t believe she did it and there may even be some regret but the other side of her is just relieved that this is all over... before it even truly began. Hopefully Sean will only be relieved too and not resent her for her solo decisions. He only seemed to show worry anyway.

Finally, Michelle reaches the reception of the hospital where she finds Quinn, waiting expectantly for her arrival. As soon as Michelle wanders is, she starts to feel her knees weakening and her balance losing hope, all her doubts and regrets in just a few seconds.

Quinn spots Michelle and grabs her hands, noticing that she’s about to collapse. “Hey, Meech. Are you okay?” She asks in her natural tone of genuine kindness, matched with the perfect amount of concern. Quinn is truly only light.

Michelle feels weak and stunted by her action. Why is it affecting her so much? She shouldn’t feel so much regret because she’s the one who made this choice. She should be able to move past it but for some reason... she can’t.

Tears rise in her hazel eyes and Michelle barely tilts her head to look at Quinn, who is eyeing her with so much worry that it actually hurts more than it comforts her.

“I... I can’t believe I really did it.” Michelle admits, sobs soaking her face as Quinn wraps her in a hug, understanding what she’s feeling right now. Water seems to grow in Quinn’s own eyes and she can’t help but cry with Michelle as they hopelessly embrace. “I... I really killed my own baby.”

“No, Michelle. Don’t say that. You did what was best for you. You weren’t ready and that’s understandable.” Quinn assures, tightening her comforting grasp on Michelle and stroking her blond hair as an attempt to sooth her.

Michelle sighs heavily hearing that. “But I still took away Sean’s chance at being a father... even me being a mother. But... I saw the true excitement in Sean’s eyes when I told him about the baby, even if it was coated by worry for the future. It was still there and... I may have just ruined everything because of how selfish I am.” Michelle rants and continues to put herself down, causing Quinn to feel slight frustration.

Michelle is going through so much so self-doubt is understandable. She’d been talking about doing this since Quinn found out Michelle was pregnant. And Quinn always tried to convince Michelle to give raising the baby a try and at least Sean a chance to be the father his own wasn’t. But Michelle clearly ignored all the reassurance and possibility of a future when she called Quinn up abruptly and said she can’t take it anymore and she’s going to abort the baby. She’d only been pregnant for four weeks and getting rid of the baby seems like a rushed conclusion.

But it’s too late now. Michelle’s baby is gone and she’s filled with just as much regret as Quinn warned her she’d feel and now there’s no turning back.

“Stop tearing yourself up. You’re not selfish. You’re just doing what’s best for the future.” Quinn tries to comfort her but her words only seem to create a bigger void in Michelle’s heart.

“Exactly. My future.” Michelle corrects, breaking the hug and losing all the emotion in her gaze, even as tears continue to spill down her face. They dry at her cheeks as she wipes them away. “Try and tell me you don’t hate me right now.” Michelle requests, staring Quinn dead in the eyes with so much solemnness that it’s almost scary.

Quinn staggers back, stunned by her insinuation. “What? Of course I don’t hate you.” She immediately dismisses the idea, shaking her head in denial.

“You say that but you gotta be at least disappointed with me.” Michelle adds, fidgeting with the zip of her jacket as her nerves start to build up.

“No! I’m not disappointed in you. I don’t hate you at all. You’re my friend and I believe you were just doing what’s right.”

That’s when Michelle’s breaking point arrives and she can’t help but just... snap.

“Then how come it’s eating me inside? How come I can’t stop thinking of this as a mistake? Because everything I do is selfish! Every time I think what I’m doing is right, it only turns out to be for my benefit. I’m not helping anybody by killing my own baby, I’m only paining people. Even the doctor shook their head at me like they knew I should be ashamed. Sean is gonna hate me forever now. I killed our baby. His baby. What could have been a future is now gone. I know I can’t complain because I’m the one who made that decision but if I could turn back time... I wouldn’t do it again.” Michelle confesses, her gaze falling to the floor and only now does she realise that she’s been shouting, as she became too distracted with her strained words. She’d caught a few shaking heads of disappointment from bystanders but some people were looking at her like they understood what she was going through. With that, Michelle continues, her voice much calmer and quieter now. “...I fucked up. Really bad. I made a mistake and I can’t take it back. All I want is for Sean to understand. For you to understand. You know you can be angry with me, Quinn. It’s okay. You’re the one who told me to embrace it instead of worrying but... I didn’t listen to you. For that, I’m sorry.”

Quinn just glances at Michelle for a moment, completely taken aback by this revelation. It’s almost impossible to believe that Michelle really regrets it this much, even when she completed the process less than ten minutes ago. It’s crazy but not impossible.

Closing her eyes, Michelle takes Quinn’s long silence as a hint and hangs her head in shame, before turning around and starting towards the exit, knowing Quinn might not even forgive her. Who knows? If the situation with Quinn is bad, what would it be like for Sean? How would he react? Whatever happens, it won’t end good for Michelle... or anyone really.

Just as Michelle’s about to open the door, Quinn rushes over to her and yanks her by her wrist, forcing her to turn around and meet Quinn’s eyes.

Quinn

Pain after pain. Quinn can feel them rising in her stomach a thousand times fast. Each second passes and more rise. She knows the end is drawing near and soon, she won’t be able to do the things she’s been dreaming of doing for a while now. Travelling is impossible now. Seeing the world and exploring won’t ever be witnessed and experienced. Having a family and love is a dream for the healthy. She only has these last few moments to savour.

And she intends to use them wisely.

Staring into Michelle’s hazel eyes only gives Quinn one last desire, one last thing she’s been thinking about since she revealed to Michelle about her sickness. She’s never had the strength to tell anyone about that but Michelle is always there for her. Even went with her to the hospital when she needed weekly tests and her parents seem to have given up on the idea of her ever getting better.

They were right to say Quinn was a lost cause but they weren’t when they suggested her hiding out and being isolated from the people she cared about. Just because she’s free, she’s ready to accept her fate and cherish the last few moments of her life.

With that, Quinn throws caution to the wind and cups Michelle’s face, bringing her in for a long, passionate kiss. Michelle doesn’t even object, only remains startled at first but surprisingly, she melts into the kiss, earning a few awes from the crowd and even a few whistles - which is odd for a hospital. Michelle rests her hands around Quinn’s shoulders, stroking her pale skin and slipping her tongue in Quinn’s mouth.

This kiss, or moment even, is just what Michelle needed to calm down and accept that not everything she does is a mistake. This especially is definitely not a mistake. This has to be one of the best things to ever occur for both of them. There’s so much sweetness, thoughtfulness and tenderness to this kiss, like they’re savouring the taste to help them prepare for whatever tomorrow brings. It’s a crazy world but this moment makes more sense than both of their lives combined.

Just proves that light can be found in even the darkest places.

Suddenly, Michelle can feel Quinn’s lips weakening on her own, not much effort being thrown into the moment anymore. She’s relaxed now and she seems like she has no control over what she’s doing anymore. Taking that as a sign, Michelle disconnects her lips from Quinn’s and cups her face, noticing how sunken in her gaze suddenly is but there’s still a bright smile on her face. A look of gratitude in her sky blue eyes.

Michelle can’t help but half-smile herself, genuinely thankful for the moment they just shared. Still, she couldn’t be help but be curious. “What was that for?”

Quinn just giggles, feeling her knees starting to weaken. The effects were already kicking in as the pains and nausea in her stomach increase. “Just wanted to show you just how much I forgive you... and I don’t blame you for wanting a well-lived life.” Quinn’s voice is obviously whispery as she talks and it’s almost concerning to Michelle.

She notices Quinn start to sink to the floor, landing on her knees. Michelle crouches down to join her, her eyes flooding with worry. “Hey... are you okay?”

“I’m fine now. You know why?” Quinn asks, stroking Michelle’s cheek lightly with her fingertips as she prepares to lie down on her back, her auburn hair fanned out across the hospital floor.

Michelle twitches her eyebrows, bewildered. “No... tell me.”

Quinn winces a little at the rising pains in her stomach and an exhaustion slowly starts to consume her, every part of her body numbed piece by piece. “Because I finally learned what life is really about... I also learned what the voices were telling me.”

“What voices? What were they saying?”

“Michelle... I’m gonna tell you something so important... and I need you to go and find... Logan Mercer... and tell her. Can you do that for me?” Quinn requests, the emotion in her voice starting to fade.

“Wait. Why can’t you do it? Quinn, what’s going on?” Michelle questions, genuinely clueless.

“Promise me... you’ll tell her.” Quinn insists, a serious glint in her sapphire eyes.

For a moment, Michelle hesitates but that look in Quinn’s eyes is enough to convince her otherwise. “Okay... I promise.”

“Tell Logan that... we all... hold a part... of the... island’s... heart...”

That being the last thing ever said, Quinn’s soft whisper fades... and her sapphire eyes finally close. But they don’t close with fear of anguish like she’d always expected. No... they close with peace.

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