#Paint Warehouse Floor

[evelynjohn001]

How to Paint a Warehouse Floor: A Step-by-Step Guide

Painting a warehouse floor is a task that requires careful planning, the right tools, and proper execution to ensure a durable, safe, and professional finish. Whether you're looking to improve the aesthetic appeal, enhance safety, or protect the floor from wear and tear, a well-painted warehouse floor can make a big difference.

This guide will walk you through the process of painting a warehouse floor, covering preparation, tools, application, and post-paint care.

1. Why Paint a Warehouse Floor?

Painting your warehouse floor offers several benefits:

Protection: A high-quality epoxy or concrete paint creates a protective layer, preventing wear from foot traffic, forklifts, and other equipment.

Safety: Using non-slip paint can improve traction and reduce the risk of accidents.

Aesthetics: A fresh coat of paint gives the warehouse a cleaner, more professional appearance.

Ease of Maintenance: Painted floors are easier to clean and maintain, reducing dust and debris build-up.

2. Tools and Materials You'll Need

Before you start, gather all the necessary tools and materials:

Epoxy or Polyurethane Paint: Designed for concrete or industrial floors, it offers durability and resistance to chemicals and abrasion.

Concrete Cleaner: To remove grease, oil, and other stains before painting.

Pressure Washer: To thoroughly clean the floor.

Concrete Patch: For filling cracks and holes in the floor.

Painter’s Tape: To mark off edges and areas you don’t want to paint.

Primer: Helps the paint adhere better to the concrete.

Paint Roller: Preferably one with an extension handle to cover large areas.

Paint Trays: To hold the paint during application.

Safety Equipment: Gloves, goggles, and a respirator to protect yourself from fumes and dust.

3. Preparing the Warehouse Floor

Preparation is critical for ensuring that the paint adheres properly and lasts a long time. Follow these steps:

Step 1: Clear the Area

Remove all equipment, shelving, and debris from the area you’ll be painting. Ensure the floor is completely clear.

Step 2: Clean the Floor

Use a concrete cleaner to remove all dirt, grease, and oil. A pressure washer is ideal for cleaning large areas quickly and effectively. Allow the floor to dry completely before proceeding.

Step 3: Repair Any Damage

Inspect the floor for any cracks, holes, or damage. Use a concrete patching compound to fill any imperfections. This step ensures a smooth, even surface for painting.

Step 4: Etch the Concrete (If Necessary)

Some floors may require etching to open up the surface of the concrete and improve paint adhesion. This can be done with a concrete etching solution or a mechanical grinder. Follow the manufacturer's instructions carefully.

Step 5: Apply Primer

Once the floor is clean and dry, apply a concrete primer. This will help the paint bond to the floor more effectively and provide a longer-lasting finish. Allow the primer to dry fully before moving on to the next step.

4. Painting the Warehouse Floor

With the floor fully prepped, it’s time to start painting.

Step 1: Choose the Right Paint

For a warehouse floor, epoxy or polyurethane-based paint is ideal. Epoxy is highly durable, chemical-resistant, and ideal for industrial environments.

Step 2: Mix the Paint

Follow the manufacturer's instructions for mixing the paint. Some paints may require adding a hardener or other components before use.

Step 3: Apply the First Coat

Using a roller, apply the first coat of paint in long, even strokes. Start at the far end of the warehouse and work your way toward the exit, so you don’t paint yourself into a corner.

Be sure to cover the entire surface evenly. For edges and corners, use a smaller brush or roller to ensure precise coverage.

Step 4: Allow the Paint to Dry

Let the first coat dry according to the paint manufacturer's instructions. This may take anywhere from 24 to 48 hours, depending on the type of paint and the warehouse environment.

Step 5: Apply a Second Coat

For added durability and a more even finish, apply a second coat of paint. Follow the same process as the first coat and allow it to dry thoroughly.

5. Post-Painting Care

Once the painting is complete, it’s essential to follow these steps to ensure the longevity of the paint job:

Step 1: Curing Time

Give the floor sufficient time to fully cure. Even though the paint may feel dry to the touch, it could take several days for it to harden completely. During this time, avoid placing heavy equipment or machinery on the floor.

Step 2: Regular Maintenance

To keep your painted warehouse floor in top condition, regular cleaning is essential. Sweep and mop the floor to remove dust, dirt, and debris. For tougher stains, use a mild detergent and water, avoiding harsh chemicals that could damage the paint.

Step 3: Inspect for Damage

Periodically inspect the floor for signs of wear or damage. Touch up any worn or scratched areas to prevent further damage and keep the floor looking fresh.

Conclusion

Painting a warehouse floor is a manageable DIY project, provided you take the time to prepare the surface and use the right materials. By following this step-by-step guide, you can transform your warehouse floor, making it more durable, safer, and visually appealing. Whether you're protecting the concrete from wear or simply improving the space’s look, a well-painted floor is a long-term investment in the functionality and safety of your warehouse.

Key Takeaways:

Proper preparation, including cleaning, repairing, and priming the floor, is critical for success.

Choose the right paint, such as epoxy or polyurethane, for durability.

Apply multiple coats, allowing ample drying and curing time for the best results.

Maintain the painted floor through regular cleaning and inspections.

[hpsfloors]

Warehouse Epoxy Flooring: Durable, Safe, and Efficient

When it comes to maintaining a warehouse, the flooring is often an overlooked yet crucial aspect of the facility's infrastructure. The floor must withstand heavy loads, constant foot traffic, and machinery movement while ensuring safety and efficiency. Epoxy flooring is a top choice for warehouses.

What is Epoxy Flooring?

Epoxy flooring is a surface coating created by mixing resin and hardener, forming a durable, seamless layer. This coating bonds exceptionally well to concrete floors, providing an even, resilient surface. The result is a floor that can endure the demanding environment of a warehouse while offering a professional appearance.

Why Choose Epoxy Flooring for Warehouses?

Durability: Warehouses experience high-impact activities, from forklifts carrying heavy loads to constant foot traffic. Epoxy flooring is highly resistant to abrasions, and impacts making it ideal for such environments. Its durability reduces the need for frequent repairs, saving time and costs.

Safety First: Epoxy flooring offers slip-resistant options that can be customized with visible markings for pathways, loading zones, and hazardous areas, improving navigation and reducing accidents.

Easy Maintenance: The seamless nature of epoxy floors makes cleaning and maintenance a breeze. Unlike traditional flooring, there are no cracks or crevices for dirt and debris to accumulate, ensuring a cleaner workspace with minimal effort.

Chemical Resistance: Many warehouses deal with chemicals or materials that can damage conventional flooring. Epoxy floors resist chemical spills, preventing stains and maintaining the floor’s integrity over time.

Cost-Effective: While the upfront cost of epoxy flooring may be higher than some alternatives, its longevity and minimal maintenance requirements make it a cost-effective investment for any warehouse.

Customization Options for Warehouse Needs

Epoxy flooring can be tailored to meet the specific needs of your warehouse. From anti-slip coatings to high-gloss finishes for better lighting, the options are vast. Additionally, color coding and line markings can help organize workflows and improve safety.

Installation and Maintenance

Professional installation is critical for ensuring the longevity of epoxy flooring. The process involves surface preparation, which may include cleaning, repairing cracks, and applying a primer. Once the epoxy is applied, it cures to form a hard, durable surface.

Regular maintenance involves simple sweeping and occasional mopping with mild detergents. For warehouses dealing with heavy traffic or chemical spills, periodic inspections can help ensure the floor remains in excellent condition.

[atlantalinestripings]

Since 1994, our crews have provided the quality installation of warehouse floor striping and parking lot striping. With 30 years of experience, we offer safety, quality and communication.

Contact us: Atlanta Line Striping 1055 Howell Mill Rd, Atlanta, GA 30318 404-301-7283 https://atlantalinestriping.com/

[atlantalinestriping]

Revitalize Your Parking Space with Atlanta Line Striping

In the thriving heart of Atlanta, where every inch of real estate counts, the quality of your parking lot striping makes a significant impact. Whether you manage a shopping center, corporate complex, or industrial site, well-executed parking lot striping is not just about aesthetics but safety, accessibility, and efficiency. Enter "Atlanta Line Striping," a trusted leader in the industry, committed to providing exceptional parking lot striping services that elevate ordinary lots into extraordinary spaces.

Precision and Dedication at Atlanta Line Striping At Atlanta Line Striping, we believe that parking lot striping is an art form demanding precision and unwavering dedication. Our highly skilled team, equipped with state-of-the-art tools and extensive experience, has established a reputation for excellence in the competitive parking lot striping arena. Our services are versatile and tailored to meet the unique needs of our clients, ensuring that every parking lot project leaves a lasting impression.

The Fundamental Role of Parking Lot Striping While parking lot striping may seem mundane, its significance is undeniable. Clear and well-maintained striping serves several critical purposes:

Safety: Properly marked parking spaces and pedestrian walkways are essential for protecting visitors and employees, preventing accidents, and reducing liability for property owners.

Accessibility: ADA compliance is crucial, and adequately marked accessible spaces and pathways are essential for those with disabilities, ensuring equal access for all.

Aesthetic Appeal: A well-striped parking lot enhances the overall appearance of your property, creating a welcoming and professional impression on your patrons, clients, and employees.

Efficient Traffic Flow: Well-defined lanes, parking spaces, and directional arrows help manage traffic flow efficiently, reducing congestion and enhancing the overall experience for customers and tenants.

Services Offered by Atlanta Line Striping We offer a comprehensive range of parking lot striping services, making us the preferred choice for property owners and managers in Atlanta:

Fresh Line Striping: Whether you need to mark new parking spaces or refresh existing ones, Atlanta Line Striping delivers crisp, clear lines that withstand the test of time.

ADA Compliance: We specialize in creating ADA-compliant spaces, ensuring that your parking lot is accessible to everyone in full compliance with the law.

Stenciling and Signage: From directional arrows to custom stencils, Atlanta Line Striping provides various options for enhancing traffic flow and providing clear instructions for drivers and pedestrians.

Sealcoating: Protect your parking lot investment and extend your lifespan with our sealcoating services. This not only enhances the aesthetics but also safeguards against weather-related damage and wear and tear.

Custom Solutions: We understand that every parking lot is unique. Atlanta Line Striping collaborates closely with clients to provide tailored solutions that meet their specific needs and align with their branding.

The Atlanta Line Striping Advantage What sets Atlanta Line Striping apart from the competition? Here are some key factors that make us the preferred choice for parking lot striping in Atlanta:

Experience: With years of experience in the industry, Atlanta Line Striping's team has honed their skills to perfection. We understand the intricacies of parking lot design and striping, ensuring every project is executed flawlessly.

Advanced Technology: We invest in the latest technology and equipment to deliver the highest precision and durability. Our use of quality materials and paints ensures that your striping remains vibrant and legible even in Atlanta's harsh weather conditions.

Dedication to Quality: Atlanta Line Striping takes pride in delivering the best possible results. We support our services and ensure that every project meets the highest standards.

Competitive Pricing: Despite our top-tier services, we offer competitive pricing, making our services accessible to many clients.

Timely Completion: Time is of the essence in the business world. Atlanta Line Striping understands this and strives to complete projects efficiently without compromising quality.

Conclusion Regarding parking lot striping in Atlanta, "Atlanta Line Striping" is your trusted partner for elevating your property's aesthetics, safety, and functionality. We consider parking lot striping an art form, and our commitment to precision and excellence has made us the preferred choice for businesses and property owners seeking to enhance their parking lots. Whether you manage a property, own a business, or oversee a government entity, Atlanta Line Striping is your ticket to transforming your parking lot into a safe, attractive, and well-marked space that leaves a lasting impression. Elevate your property with precision – choose Atlanta Line Striping today.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

SFX Magazine Issue 372 - Designing Good Omens ❤ 😊

PRODUCTION DESIGNER MICHAEL RALPH REVEALS HOW THE SHOW’S CENTREPIECE SET, WHICKBER STREET, WAS GIVEN A DEVILISHLY CLEVER UPGRADE FOR THE SECOND SEASON

WORDS: DAVE GOLDER

Invisible Columns And Thin Walls “The new studio is Pyramid Studios in Bathgate – it used to be a furniture warehouse. And unfortunately – or fortunately, because I accept these things as not challenges but gifts – right down the middle of that studio are a series of upright columns. But you’ll never spot them on screen. I had to build them in and integrate them into the walls and still get the streets between them. And it worked.

“There’s all sorts of cheeky design values to those sets. Normally a set like this is double-skin. In other words, you do an interior wall and an exterior wall, with an airspace in between. But really, the only time a viewer notices that there’s that width is at the doors and the windows. So I cheated all that. I ended up with single walls everywhere. So the exterior wall is the interior wall, just painted. All I did was make the sash windows and entrances wider to give it some depth as you walked in.”

GOOD OMENS HAD A CHANGE of location for its second season, but hopefully you didn’t notice. Because Whickber Street in Soho upped sticks from an airfield in Hertfordshire to a furniture warehouse in Bathgate, Edinburgh. It’s the kind of nonsensical geographical shenanigans that could only make sense in the crazy world of film and TV, and production designer Michael Ralph was the man in charge of rebuilding and expanding the show’s vast central set. “I wish we could have built more in season one than we did,” says Ralph, whose previous work has included Primeval and Dickensian. “We built the ground floor of everything and the facades of all the shops. But we didn’t build anything higher than that, because we were out on an airfield in a very, very difficult terrain and weather conditions, so we really couldn’t go much higher. Visual effects created the upper levels.”

But with season two the set has gone to a whole other level… literally. “What happened was that the rest of the street became integrated into the series’s storyline,” explains Ralph. “So we needed a record shop, we needed a coffee shop that actually had an inside, we needed a magic shop, we needed the pub. To introduce those meant we had to change the street with a layout that works from a storylines point of view. In other words, things like someone standing at the counter in the record shop had to be able to eyeball somebody standing at the counter in the coffee shop. They had to be able to eyeball Aziraphale sitting in his office in the window of the bookshop. But the rest of it was a pleasure to do inside, because we could expand it and I could go up two storeys.”

For most of the set, which is around 80 metres long and 60 metres wide, the two storeys only applied to the shop frontages, but in the case of Aziraphale’s bookshop, it allowed Ralph to build the mezzanine level for real this time. According to Ralph it became one of the cast and crews’ favourite places to hang out during down time.

But while AZ Fell & Co has grown in height, it actually has a slightly smaller footprint because of the logistics of adapting it to the new studio.

“Everybody swore to me that no one would notice,” says Ralph wryly. “I walked onto it and instinctively knew there was a difference immediately, and they hated me for that. I have this innate sense about spatial awareness and an eye like a spirit level.

“It’s not a lot, though – I think we’ve lost maybe two and a half feet on the front wall internally. I think that there’s a couple of other smaller areas, but only I’d notice. So I can be really annoying to my guys, but only on those levels. Not on any other. They actually quite like me…”

Populating The Bookshop “The props in the new bookshop set were a flawless reproduction from the set decorator Bronwyn Franklin [who is also Ralph’s wife]. It was really the worst-case scenario after season one. She works off the concept art that I produce, but what she does is she adds so much more to the character of the set. She doesn’t buy anything she doesn’t love, or doesn’t fit the character.

“But the things she put a lot of work into finding for season one, they were pretty much one-offs. When we burnt the set down in the sixth episode, we lost a lot of props, many of which had been spotted and appreciated by the fans. So Bronwyn had to discover a new set decorating technique: forensic buying.

“She found it all – duplicates and replicas. It took ages. In that respect, the Covid delay was very helpful for Bron. There’s 7,000 books in there and there’s not one fake book. That’s mainly because… it’s a weird thing to say, but we wanted it to smell and feel like a bookshop to everybody that was in it, all the time.

“It affects everybody subliminally; it affects everybody’s performance – actors and crew – it raises the bar 15 to 20%. And the detail, you know… We love a lot of detail.”

(look at the description under this, they called him 'Azi' hehehehe :D <3)

Aziraphale’s Inspirational Correspondence “There’s not one single scrap of paper on Aziraphale’s desk that isn’t written specifically for Aziraphale. Every single piece is not just fodder that’s been shoved there, it has a purpose; it’s a letter of thanks, or an enquiry about a book or something.

“Michael Sheen is so submerged in his character he would get lost sitting at his own desk, reading his own correspondence between takes. I believe wholeheartedly that if you put that much care into every single piece of detail, on that desk and in that room, that everybody feels it, including the crew, and then they give that set the same respect it deserves.

“They also lift their game because they believe that they’re doing something of so much care and value. Really, it’s a domino effect of passion and care for what you’re producing.”

Alternative Music “My daughter Mickey is lead graphic designer [two of Ralph’s sons worked on the series too, one as a concept artist, the other in props]. They’re the ones that produced all of that handwritten work on the desk. She’s the one that took on the record shop and made up 80 band names so that we didn’t have to get copyright clearance from real bands. Then she produced records and sleeves that spanned 50, 60 years of their recordings, and all of the graphics on the walls.

“I remember Michael and Neil [Gaiman] getting lost following one band’s history on the wall, looking at their posters and albums desperately trying to find out whether they survived that emo period.”

It’s A Kind Of Magic One of the new shops in Whickber Street for season two was Will Goldstone’s Magic Shop, which is full of as many Easter eggs as off-the-shelf conjuring tricks, including a Matt Smith Doctor Who-style fez and a toy orang-utan that’s a nod to Discworld’s The Librarian. Ralph says that while the series is full of references to Gaiman, Pratchett and Doctor Who, Michael Sheen never complained about a lack of Masters Of Sex in-jokes. “He’d be the last person to make that sort of comment!”

Ralph also reveals that the magic shop counter was another one of his wife’s purchases, bought at a Glasgow reclamation yard.

The Anansi Boys Connection Ralph reveals that Good Omens season two used the state-of-the-art special effects tech Volume (famous for its use in The Mandalorian to create virtual backdrops) for just one sequence, but he will be using it extensively elsewhere on another Gaiman TV series being made for Prime Video.

“We used Volume on the opening sequence to create the creation of the universe. I was designing Anansi Boys in duality with this project, which seems an outrageously suicidal thing to do. But it was fantastic and Anansi Boys was all on Volume. So I designed for Volume on one show and not Volume on the other. The complexities and the psychology of both is different.”

[charlotstripingcompany]

Charlotte Parking Lot Striping Company

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[caelesjjk]

entangled - jjk&kth - part two

⟶title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 9k ⟶ warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, more infidelity type things, reader is confused af, two smut scenes because we take what they wanna give us: unprotected sex (don’t do this tho), dirty talk, kissing, fingering, couple position switches, it’s all pretty lovey dovey ⟶ summary: Kim Taehyung is Venom. A huge, terrifying symbiote monster that’s bonded with him and made a deal for a common goal. You don’t know what you’re doing. Your feelings are mixed and frazzled and confused. But you may not have the time to sort them out just yet if you can’t keep the two people you care about most from killing each other first. ⟶ authors note: hello darklings. You’ve all waited way too long for me to get this second part together and for that I apologize. I hope this makes up for the wait. The third and final part that follows this will be a bit of a wait too while I work on another fic, but I promise it will come. Big endless shoutout to @sailoryooons for listening to me whine about this for months and for beta reading the mess that it became. Also shouts to @tea4sykes for reading before it was even done to reassure me it was flowing okay. I love you guys.

Part One (if you missed it)

playlist if you want it: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5cg79N5KQBmZ9fOCtyD3A7?si=cQlAtRT7Roat33E60rzKtQ&pi=u-lMIH9SpZSD6X

You needed to run.

Everything was happening too quickly, your head couldn’t catch up with your feet that were scrambling across the floor in every direction trying to escape the monster Taehyung had just turned into. He had you completely trapped with nowhere to go.

Not to mention you were mostly naked with only a thin sheet barely clinging around you.

“Stop! Leave me alone! Please!” You beg and scream as it cuts you off again when you make a dash for the stairs.

“No. Leaving.” Venom roars and tries to make a move towards you, but stops when you accidentally back into the record player Taehyung has sitting on his side table.

The record scratches and squeaks at a high pitch and Venom groans in pain at the sound, his clawed hands grabbing at his head as he stumbles backwards. His black, crawling skin pulls away until you catch glimpses of Taehyung beneath the monster. 

“Run. Please…run,” he begs before Venom consumes him again. But before he can get too far, you push over the record player so that it makes a constant high pitched noise and Venom screams until he falls back against the railing and goes over the edge.

You don’t wait to see anything else. 

Grabbing the ends of the sheet you dash towards the bathroom and shove the door closed behind you, looking around frantically for a way to escape. Immediately your eyes see the fire escape outside the window. 

You see some discarded clothes on the floor and immediately throw on the T-shirt and basketball shorts before using all your strength to shove open the old window that has obviously not been used in years. The old white paint cracks and splinters to the floor as you climb up onto the sill.

A loud bang suddenly sounds from outside the bathroom door. Venom must’ve stopped the record player. 

“Where are you, girl?” You hear his menacing voice travel through the door. 

Your pulse picks up again as you shove yourself the rest of the way out the window and into the pouring rain. The metal of the fire escape creaks and brings an instant chill to your already shaking body. 

Looking back, you see the bathroom door shatter with the force the monster uses to break it open. You can barely hear yourself scream as you throw your weight onto the top of the window and close it behind you. You don’t look back again as you sprint down the stairs of the fire escape, but the sound of Venom crashing through the glass makes you move faster. 

Bricks from the warehouse crunch beneath his claws and feet, causing pieces to crumble and rain down over your head. As soon as your bare feet hit the pavement, you make a mad dash past the docks and towards the main road.

The rain pelts against your face as the clouds continue to block the sun that should be starting to come up now. There is barely any light for you to see where you are going while the world is still wrapped in a navy blue hue.

You can see headlights up ahead. Cars. People. A way out.

“Not so fast.” Venom suddenly drops in front of you, making you stumble and fall to your back against the cobblestones. Your elbows scrape across the ground as you try to move away but he’s too big and too fast.

“Please…just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about you. I swear.” You press flat to the ground as Venom looms over you, his face slowly maneuvering downwards until your nose almost touches him.

“We…want to keep you. Protect you.” 

“You’re scaring me, Taehyung. How can you say you want to protect me?” The crawling, black skin of Venom’s face peels away to reveal Taehyung once more.

“You’re in the middle of something that you shouldn’t be,” Taehyung says desperately. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“_____, please stay away from Jungkook. He-” Taehyung is cut off when Venom closes the skin back over his face. “He’s here,” he growls, moving to stand over top of you.

Before you can question him again, the bright light of a laser blast shoots past you, barely skimming Venom’s shoulder and blowing chunks of the ground all over you.

When you look back up, the red and gold suit of Ironman comes flying into your view. He tries to fly between you and Venom, but the monster is too fast, back handing Ironman and sending him flying into the side of one of the buildings.

“No!” You yell, trying to get to your feet but you can’t get your footing with all the rubble surrounding you.

“Stay. Back,” Venom whips around to tell you. That distraction is enough for Ironman to come flying back, hitting Venom in the stomach with his shoulder and throwing the two of them about ten feet away.

You don’t want Jin to hurt Taehyung. Venom is the monster. Taehyung is good. He’s gentle and kind. 

Your head hurts so badly and there’s blood dripping down your newly busted lip. You don’t know what you can do but you have to do something. 

Getting to your feet as the rain continues to pour from the thundering clouds overhead, you clamber through the rubble trying to get closer to where Jin has Venom pinned against the side of a dumpster. Just as you approach, Venom hits Jin’s hand away causing the laser blast to go off and almost hit you. You felt the heat of it skim past your face.

“Get out of here, _____! Now!” Jin yells, losing his balance when Venom pushes him off into the side of another building. You fall back on your ass, hitting the wet street once again.

Venom crawls over to you slowly. The sight of it freezing you in place as the slithering skin of his face once again pulls back to reveal Taehyung.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, bending to get closer to you. You can see Jin getting back up out of the corner of your eye.

“Run, Tae. Please just run away and hide. And don’t ever come looking for me again. They’ll kill you.” You touch his cheek and his eyes close. “Please go.”

Just as you take your hand away you hear someone from above you yell your name, your head whipping up at the familiar sound.

Venom’s face consumes Taehyung again as he steps in front of you defensively. Jungkook comes into view, swinging down from a web attached to the nearest warehouse. 

Jungkook moves so quickly you can barely register what’s happening before he’s kicking Venom hard enough to make him roar and fly across the other side of the road.

“Get her out of here, Jungkook!” Jin yells as he comes back into the fight.

“We have him where we want him! I’m not leaving!” Jungkook yells back, shooting a web at one of the big pieces of rubble and flinging it towards Venom.

It shouldn’t hurt to hear him say that.

It shouldn’t sting like a slap across the face when he doesn’t choose you again. But god, does it fucking ever.

“Now!” Jin screams the word at Jungkook, barely holding off Venom, who is scraping and clawing with all his might to get back to you.

Such an anomaly this turned out to be.

Jungkook shoots off a few more webs, catching them on one of Venom’s wrists and sticking to the ground so it’s harder for him to move. And then Jungkook is whirling around and scooping you into his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, looking over his shoulder to watch the fight between Jin and Venom for as long as you can before they’re just dots in the distance as Jungkook swings you back into the city.

You almost start to doze off from exhaustion when you feel the world stop moving and Jungkook standing you on your feet. You almost lose your balance at the loss of him so suddenly.

“What the fuck were you doing out there, ____?” Jungkook asks, his voice loud and full of an anger you’d never heard from him before.

“I…I was just going for a walk…” the lie falls from your mouth before you even have a chance to think about it. “I got lost…”

“How do you always do this? How are you always in the middle of some terrible shit?” Jungkook rips his mask off and throws it across your bedroom against the opposite wall before he starts to pace.

“I’m sorry…” you feel so small as you watch the anger radiate off of him.

“Sorry? You’re sorry? Do you have any idea what you’ve likely cost us tonight?” He comes into your space, backing you into your kitchen counter.

“Jungkook…” 

“Just…stay out of my way, Data.” His shoulders slump when he steps back from you and grabs his mask from the floor. Your body shakes and gives into your exhaustion, your knees hitting the floor as Jungkook bounds off your balcony.

The only light in your apartment is from the barely there sun, casting shadows of your furniture and the plants on the windowsill across the hardwood floor. It’s quiet, too quiet when there’s a busy city 10 floors down.

How could one person make you feel so loved and so alone at the same time? Were you the bad guy? You slept with Taehyung out of spite…didn’t you? That’s how it started at least…now you’re not sure how you feel.

You don’t understand Taehyung, and part of you wants to know more. Why is he allowing Venom to control him and use him? What does he get out of it? All questions you would love to ask him if he wasn’t an absolutely terrifying monster.

A monster that Jungkook could possibly be killing right now. That thought makes you nauseous immediately.

You crawl across the floor until you can press your back against the wall, pulling your knees to your chest and putting your head between them. You needed to block it all out for a moment…or several.

You don’t know how long you have been sitting there or when you fall asleep but eventually you lift your head and squint at the sun trickling in through your windows and balcony doors. A perfectly cool breeze moves your green curtains and gives you goosebumps.

When your back starts to hurt from sitting on the wood floor, you convince yourself to get up to close the door. You know you desperately need a shower as well.

As you reach the balcony door, you see Jungkook sitting on your stone railing, his head in his hands. You want to rush towards him and make sure he’s okay, but you stay put.

“How long have you been out here?” You ask quietly, hand gripping the door handle too tightly.

“A while.” Jungkook mutters, his hands coming up to his hair and pulling at the roots.

“You…you should go home, Jungkook.” You hate the sound of your own voice right now. Weak and scratchy.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier, Data.” He moves slowly, head coming up as he slides off the railing to stand.

“But you did. And I have a feeling you meant them.”

“No…I just don’t understand why we can’t catch this monster. And when I saw you there, I lost it.” He runs his hand through his mess of black waves.

“Did…did you catch him now?” You swallow thickly, not sure what answer you want to hear.

“No. Jin couldn’t hold him. He’s looking into asking Dr. Kim for help in building a trap.” He looks defeated and the guilt starts to crawl up your throat.

Dr. Kim Namjoon is a scientist that most people would know as the Hulk. He’s a brilliant mind and someone you very much look up to as far as the career path you hope to take one day. It scares you that he might get involved in capturing…or killing Taehyung.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to whisper.

“Data…” He steps closer to you and you flinch a little. “Fuck…fuck I’m so sorry. You were scared and you’re…you’re fucking hurt and all I did was yell at you.” Jungkook stays where he is, but reaches out his hand towards you.

“I don’t…I can’t,” you whimper.

“It’s okay. Let me take care of you, baby. Please.” His hand stays out stretched and you know if you take it that the guilt will continue to eat away at you. That you can never tell him what you know. Because you care about Jungkook…but you care about Taehyung too, and you just hope he runs and doesn’t come back.

You take Jungkook’s hand and he gently steps towards you again until he’s close enough to cup your face in his hands, angling it in different ways to mentally take note of your injuries. He runs his thumb over the bump on your forehead and the cut on your lip that has you wincing. His lips press to your forehead when your arms finally wrap around his middle and fingers grip at his back.

“I’m just making trouble for you, JK.” Your lip trembles when you look up into his eyes, his brows scrunching in confusion.

“We knew when we started that this wasn’t going to be easy. But I…I have a responsibility, Data. And I’m doing my best to do that and keep you safe.” He swipes at your tears and lifts you onto the counter so he can stand between your thighs. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

You believe him. But at what cost? What will happen to him if he continues to worry about you instead of the danger he is so heroically protecting the city…maybe even the world from. He is your best friend and something so much more. 

Your hands slide into his hair, the damp strands sliding through your fingers in the most familiar way. Jungkook's hands stay on your cheeks as he pulls your mouth to his, swallowing the little whimpers that try to escape you.

His lips taste like his favorite minty chapstick and the cinnamon gum he had probably chewed on his way back to your apartment. He always chews it when he needs to think more clearly.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” you whisper between sweet pecks to your lips.

“Angry…maybe. But cruel? No. You mean more to me than that.” His mouth finds your jaw while his hands gently hold your shoulders. “How about a bath?”

Could you really be deserving of these moments with Jungkook when you were enjoying being face down on Taehyung’s bed just a day ago?

Fuck. You were so fucking selfish.

You nod your head ‘yes’, not trusting your voice when guilt is rising up your throat.

Jungkook picks you up from the counter, your arms around his neck and legs around his hips as he carries you towards your tiny apartment bathroom. Stopping once or twice to press your back against the wall and slip his tongue into your mouth. A tongue that you gladly suck between your teeth until he moans your name.

“Get these off.” Jungkook shoves into your bathroom, the space almost too small for you and his broad body. He makes quick but gentle work of your dirt and blood stained clothes, kicking them into the corner of the bathroom.

You help him slide the sleeves of his blue and red suit down his arms, slowly revealing all the beautiful ink tattooed into the skin of his right arm. Your hands follow the dips of muscle of his torso as more skin is revealed from beneath his suit.

After he’s naked and you’ve thoroughly touched as much of his bare body as you can, you slide your ass up onto your tiny marble vanity and open your legs for him to stand between. Jungkook stands back a moment, his eyes roaming and settling between your legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? You went through a lot tonight…” You don’t let him finish his sentence, wrapping your fingers around his semi-hard cock so you can stroke him.

“Let’s talk later. Right now I just need to feel you inside me. Remind me why I’m yours…please.” You could feel traitorous tears try to well in your eyes and Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion for a moment.

“Data…” He puts his hand over yours to stop your strokes.

“No. Please…I need you.” You meet his eyes and it only takes him a moment to tighten his hand on yours and help you move your fist up and down his cock again.

Jungkooks head rolls forward, a deep grumble in his chest sending shivers up your spine. He steps closer so his hips can widen your thighs and you can guide his cock to your entrance. You’re so wet that he easily pushes into you, your back arching off the vanity mirror at the stretch.

“You’ve always been my girl, Data.” His tattooed hand grips your hip and steadies you when he begins to shallow thrust, crude wet noises already coming from where your bodies meet. “Your pussy always remembers me so well.”

“Do the other Avengers know how filthy your mouth is?” You whisper, leaning forward to kiss him.

“My filthy mouth is only for you.” Jungkook kisses you back, sheathing himself completely inside you and holding himself there. He moves his swollen lips down your jaw and over your chest until he reaches your nipples, sucking and pulling until you’re a moaning mess.

“Please move, Jungkook.” You inch your ass forward until it’s perched right on the edge of the vanity. Jungkook groans against your breast, lifting his head to look where your bodies meet.

He holds both your hips in his hands as he begins a quick pace. But no matter how fast he pumps his hips against you, he never misses that spot inside you that makes stars dance across your eyelids.

“You feel so good. I don’t think I’m gonna last…” His distressed face meets yours and you reach up to touch his face and pull him closer.

“I’m so close, JK…please make me come.” He kisses you, hard and unyielding while his cock drills you against the mirror. You’re almost afraid it’ll break when he forgets how strong he is. But you don’t care, you want him to break you. You don’t deserve soft and sweet right now.

Jungkook lifts you off the vanity and faster than humanly possible has you on the floor of your hallway right outside your tiny bathroom. He throws your legs over his shoulders and hits a spot inside you that almost immediately has you crying out his name and coming all over his cock. Your pussy clenches around him so hard it makes him whimper above you, bringing him to his own orgasm. He fills you up as warmth spreads all over your body.

“Did I hurt you? I was too rough…” His hands are immediately on your face angling you to look at him.

“No, I’m okay. I promise.” You smile at him, hoping that it feels real. You’re too riddled with guilt.

“Let’s get in the bath.” He pulls out of you slowly, sitting up on his knees while he presses soft kisses to your fingers and palm.

The tub is far too small for the both of you, but it doesn’t matter. Water sloshes out onto the floor each time you move, but that doesn’t matter either. It feels good to have his warmth behind you when you lean back against his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Jungkook asks after a while, his hands rubbing your arms while his lips kiss the top of your head.

You freeze, knowing that you should tell him the truth. That you know who the monster is that he’s searching for. But you can’t bring yourself to put Taehyung in danger. So you lie. Again.

“I went for drinks with friends last night…I got lost walking home. I don’t know how I ended up at the docks. It was so stupid of me…” You hate how easily the lie spilled out.

“You aren’t stupid, Data. You just seem to have a magnet for danger.” He laughs quietly, kissing your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was your fault.”

“It was my fault. I messed things up for you and Jin,” you sigh, slumping against his wet chest.

“Don’t worry about that. It won’t be much longer before we have the monster.” 

“Have him?” You ask, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“Mr. Kim thinks the monster is a human. An experiment gone wrong. He wants to help him…or study him. As long as it isn’t running free in the city anymore.” Jungkook explains, his hands gathering some soap bubbles from the water and washing your arms and chest with gentle fingers.

“How would he help him?” If Jin can help Taehyung…then maybe he can get rid of Venom.

“I’m not sure. I think we would be better off getting rid of it altogether. It’s a menace.” You feel Jungkook’s muscles tense as he talks and you know you still can't tell him the truth about Venom.

You don’t say anything else, afraid that your voice will shake and give you away. He knows you too well. 

Jungkook makes sure you’re cleaned up and comfortable in bed before he leaves you again. In most cases you would feel hurt that he’s left, but you need time to think without your feelings being clouded by his presence.

What the fuck are you going to do?

Going about your normal day to day life felt wrong. You go to school. You study with your friends. You see Jungkook on occasion, and every time you do, the guilt burrows a little deeper inside you, whittling away at your ability to keep up the facade. 

What makes it worse was that Taehyung hasn’t been at school for two weeks. It makes you absolutely terrified that something has happened to him. That undeniable connection you felt with him makes it difficult not to worry.

Sleep almost completely evades you the last two weeks.

“You look terrible,” Hoseok pokes, sitting a fresh coffee down in front of you on the library study table.

“Charming,” you grumble, snatching the coffee and inhaling its heavenly caffeine-illed scent.

“It’s not even finals season, why aren’t you sleeping? Trouble with the boyfriend perhaps?” Hobi sits his backpack down and plops into the chair next to you.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” You press your forehead to the table and gently hit it against the top a few times. “And I just…my upstairs neighbor has been noisy.” The lies start to come out easier and easier the more you make up.

“I told you to move in with me months ago. Way closer to campus.” He pops some cheese cracker snacks into his mouth.

You know it would be nice to live with Hoseok. Easy. But you can’t. Not with Spider-Man coming and going and a giant monster possibly looking for you now. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to your friend.

“I appreciate that offer, you know I do. I just…like my space.” You sigh, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He probably knows you’re lying, but if he does, he doesn’t let on.

“Offer continues to stand if you change your mind, ___.” The look on his face is serious for a moment before he points the bag of snacks towards you. “Crackers?”

You smile and take a handful, popping them into your mouth as you sit back in your chair and listen to Hoseok talk more about nothing and everything for as long as you can.

After Hobi leaves, you continue to study until you notice the daylight is starting to disappear outside the library windows. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning when your stiff muscles protest before packing up your things to finally head home for the night.

Pulling your phone from your bag, you see there’s been no messages from Jungkook since yesterday afternoon when he said he would stop by as soon as he could. It shouldn’t be disappointing, you should be used to it, but that little pang still makes you feel some type of way.

You sigh, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you exit the library and see that it’s raining again. It seems like there has been constant rain over the last two weeks, making everything dreary. A mirror to how you felt inside as well.

Not having an umbrella, you power walk down the street towards the train station to get home. It’s only a couple of blocks but you still hate to do it at night. Especially when you get a sudden chill at the back of your neck, as if someone is following you. But every time you turn around, no one is there.

“Relax, ____. You’re exhausted and delirious,” you say to yourself, trying to calm your nerves as you continue walking.

Something big moves at the corner of your eye, dashing down the alleyway to your right and making you halt your quick steps. The only way to your apartment is past that alleyway, so you convince yourself once more that the exhaustion is getting to you and you press forward down the sidewalk.

You hold your breath and close your eyes as you sprint past the alleyway, stopping after a few feet to catch your breath.

You make it. You’re in the clear. The home stretch.

A cold hand wraps around your wrist and yanks you backwards into the alley. Your brain tries to catch up with what’s happening but when you try to scream, another hand covers your mouth just as your back is pressed against the cold, wet bricks of the wall behind you.

“Pigeon.” Taehyung’s deep voice sounds hoarse but also relieved. Your fight or flight instincts immediately melt away when your eyes settle on his injured face.

A cut on his eyebrow, a bruise beneath his left eye, blood dripping from his forehead from beneath his mess of black hair. What the hell happened to him?

You gently wrap your hand around his wrist and slowly move his hand away from your mouth.

“I won’t scream. I promise,” you assure him, his shoulders visibly unwinding.

“I know you’re scared of me. I’m sorry…I put you in danger because I was being selfish.” Taehyung takes a step back from you, giving you space.

“I’m not scared of you.” You reach out and softly touch his cheek just beneath his eye where the bruise has blossomed and he shivers at your touch.

“I’m just glad that you’re safe.” Taehyung moves your palm to his lips and presses a kiss to your skin.

“What happened to you, Taehyung? Where have you been?” 

“All I’ve wanted since this started was to expose The Life Foundation. They’re testing on people and killing them. Not a single person has survived until…”

“You,” you say quietly, watching his shoulders slump before he nods in agreement. “How did this happen?”

“I went to the lab to interview a couple of the scientists for an assignment…I got a little too curious I guess and followed a scientist down into a part of the lab no one knows exists. That’s where I saw the people they’re testing on…in cages. The symbiotes like Venom need a host but it wasn’t working and no one was surviving.” Taehyung runs his hand through his hair before he continues. “I accidentally released Venom when I tried to save one of the people in the cages and he bonded with me and somehow I survived. Still not sure how…”

“What’s stopping you from exposing them?” 

“I wanted to have hard proof before I took the information somewhere else but I haven’t been able to get back inside the lab, not even with Venom.” 

“Because of Jungkook.”

“He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into. They have suspicions but they’re keeping me from shutting the place down.” Taehyung sighs. “Your boyfriend is a pain in my ass.”

“What if…what if we talk to him? Jungkook will listen. I know he…” Taehyung cuts you off with a laugh.

“They think I’m a monster…and they aren’t wrong. But all Venom wants is to save the other symbiotes and get back to their planet.” Taehyung’s words almost sound disappointed when he talks about Venom leaving.

“But he’s…he’s hurting you. Can’t Venom heal you?”

“He does…he has. This last round of injuries was…extensive. I’m just healing more slowly.” He slumps against the opposite wall of the alley.

“You need to rest.”

“No. No, we’re going back to the lab tonight to try again.”

“Taehyung, please. He’s going to get you killed. Jungkook and Jin…they’re powerful.”

“You think I haven’t noticed?” He raises his voice slightly, but chokes on his words, folding over when a pain shoots through his side.

“That’s it. I want to talk to Venom.” You can’t stand to see him like this.

“Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“You’ll be there, right? You won’t let him hurt me.”

“I can’t always control him. He doesn’t always listen.” His eyes search yours for any sign of fear but he doesn’t find it.

“Let him out.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for Taehyung to release his monster.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving.” He takes several steps away from you until there’s plenty of space between the two of you. You nod that you’re ready.

The black crawling skin of Venom consumes Taehyung in almost an instant, his handsome face disappearing beneath terrifying white eyes and razor sharp teeth. Deep, bass filled growls flow from between those teeth and rumble the ground beneath your feet.

“Creature.” He says, smiling widely.

“Monster.” You retort.

“Sorry for…chasing you.” He keeps his distance, but paces back and forth through the alley. “I was…hungry.”

“You chase people and destroy buildings when you’re hungry?” You half laugh in disbelief.

“Very hungry!” He growls, pushing against a dumpster.

“Fine. Forget about it. I want you to let Taehyung rest, you’re going to get him killed.”

“Taehyung is fine.”

“No he isn’t! He’s all beat up, and I don’t even want to know what’s wrong internally. He needs time to heal.” You take a few steps closer.

“I can heal him, Creature.”

“He needs to rest. You need him and he won’t be of any use if he’s dead.” You stop as Venom groans and shoves his fists into the ground beside you.

“Demanding little bug.” He half spits.

“How long can you live without your host?” You don’t flinch at his outburst.

Venom doesn’t answer right away, he goes back to pacing the alley before he starts talking to himself…or to Taehyung.

“Bad idea…she pisses me off…should eat her…” Venom grabs his head in pain when the last line leaves his mouth. “Fine. No eating.” He comes back to stand in front of you, looming several feet taller. 

You look up and hold your stance. You’ll never let this pain in the ass monster know that he absolutely terrifies you.

“Three days. Three days before your atmosphere kills me.” Venom says, not seeming pleased.

“Then leave him alone for three days. Go away and let him rest. I mean it.” Venom lowers his face to yours so that you’re standing eye to eye. 

You can see your reflection in the shiny white of his eyes and your heart picks up its pace. Not because of the monster in front of you, but because somewhere behind those eyes is a man that means more to you than you thought he ever could. The strange feeling of just knowing someone is meant to be in your life becomes slightly overwhelming.

Without a second thought, one of your hands comes up and touches the side of Venom's face. His symbiote skin is cold, strange and unfamiliar. But it only takes a moment before Venom is melting away and once again revealing the stunned face of Taehyung.

“You got him to listen.” He breathes, taking your face in his hands.

“He’s not so tough.” You smile when he laughs and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re exquisite.” His nose skims yours. “And I missed you.”

“I was so worried about you,” you admit softly against his mouth that has gravitated to yours.

He kisses you softly for a moment, neither of you noticing as Venom slithers out and makes his exit down the alley. You’re too relieved to have Taehyung safely pressed against you again. And when he starts to deepen your kiss, as much as you want it to continue, you press your palm to his chest and gently push him back.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I wasn’t joking about you getting rest. I got you three days with no Venom. Let’s get you home, okay?” You lace your fingers through his and start walking towards the street, but he stops you.

“I haven’t been able to go back to the warehouse. They’ve been watching it like hawks.” His shoulder slump when he rubs the back of his neck.

“Where have you been sleeping?” 

“Abandoned buildings mostly. Or just not at all.” He laughs half heartedly.

“Let’s go to my place.” You know it’s a bad idea. Jungkook could drop in at any moment and you aren’t sure how he would react to finding the man behind the monster he’s been so desperately trying to defeat. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Will I?” Taehyung asks, wary for the same reasons you are.

“Yes. Because I’ll protect you.” Taehyung smiles at your declaration.

“I have no doubts about that, Pigeon.”

You take as many back ways as you can think of until you reach your apartment building, releasing a long breath when you safely reach the elevator and unlock your door. 

It feels strange to have Taehyung here, but also very right. He looks like a weight has been lifted off of him as he takes in your green velvet couch and collection of coffee mugs with a boxy smile on his face.

“You’re adorable.” He says, picking up a tiny cactus from your bookshelf that could definitely use some water.

“It’s not much.” You shrug, feeling your cheeks heat.

“It’s perfect.” He comes back to stand in front of you, long fingers gently gripping your chin to make you look at him. “It’s you and I think that’s perfect.”

“Tae…” you sigh but give into the kiss he sweetly presses to your lips. 

“Thank you.” He whispers after a moment. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything had…” You cut him off with another kiss.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You take both of his hands in yours and start to lead him towards your bathroom. “You, however, need to take a shower.”

“Saying I stink, Pigeon?” He teases, following you to your tiny bathroom.

“Definitely,” you counter, smiling when he laughs. A real laugh that you aren’t sure you’ve heard yet. It makes your stomach twist and clench.

“Come in with me?” Taehyung asks quietly when you bend to turn on the hot water for him. His fingers find your spine and tease up the column slowly.

God you want to. But the sudden memory of Jungkook in this bathroom with you two weeks ago clouds your vision and your ability to have this too.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? Take your time.” You stand on your toes to kiss him quickly, ignoring the pang in your chest when he pouts his bottom lip.

You close the bathroom door and press your back against it. You listen as Taehyung opens the shower curtain and gets inside, the smell of your rose scented body wash wafting from under the door when he uses it. You must be insane.

Bringing him here is so risky, but you can’t leave him out there with nowhere else to go. He means too much. 

When the bathroom door opens twenty minutes later, you jump at the sound, almost dropping your cup of tea to the hardwood floor. It almost takes a tumble a second time when you look up and see Taehyung standing in your kitchen with just a towel around his waist.

“My clothes were in pretty bad shape…I don’t suppose you have something I can borrow?” He asks with a shy smile on his face and fingers in his wet curls.

“Um…y-yeah. Yes. I’ll find something.” A wave of heat rushes over your skin as you hastily move past him and into your bedroom at the end of the hallway. He follows you, leaning against the door frame to watch you.

“Are you worried he’ll come here?” Taehyung asks, the pretty smile on his face replaced by a frown.

“A bit.” You admit, kneeling inside your closet to look through some drawers for sleeping pants. “It’s really just a matter of when…”

“Is he what you want?” The question throws you off, making you pause.

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, more complicated than it should be. Taehyung nods but doesn’t press for more information. You’re not sure you can come with anything else even if he wants you to.

You finally find a pair of green and navy blue plaid pajama pants, pulling them out of the drawer and bringing them to Taehyung. 

He drops the towel as soon as you’re in front of him, eyes holding you in place with nowhere to escape.

“Thanks, Pigeon.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes as he slips his long legs into the too short leg holes and settles them loosely on his narrow hips. Your breath shakes when he steps closer and closes the gap between you. 

“I made you tea,” you croak.

“I don’t want tea.” He practically moans against your neck when he nuzzles your jaw. “I want to show you why I’m what you want.”

Your entire being trembles at the words.

“You should rest, Taehyung.” You can’t stop your hands from finding the warm skin of his shoulders and chest.

“No rest for the wicked, Pigeon.” His mouth claims yours, swallowing down any other protest you may have tried to use.

He slowly leads you back until the back of your knees hit your bed and you both fall onto the mattress. He kisses you until you’re dizzy and desperate for air, your legs wrapping around his hips in a desperate attempt to bring him closer.

And then you remember that your stove is still turned on with tea likely boiling over all over the burners.

“Tae…” Yyou try to say before his lips close over yours again. “The tea…I need to go turn it off.”

“No.” He nips your lips and moves his kisses down your chin and over your jaw.

“I’ll be quick. Just wait here.” You playfully push him off of you, his head landing on your pillows with a smile on his face.

You look back over your shoulder when you reach the door, Taehyung winking as you round the corner into the hallway.

Luckily, the tea is where it should be, inside the kettle. You turn off the burner and move the kettle onto a potholder onto the counter top. Then quickly turn off the lights before stopping by the bathroom to make something of your mess of hair as quickly as possible.

Back in the bedroom, you barely make it inside the door before you hear the quiet snores coming from Taehyung. His arms above his head and his face buried in the pillows as he lays on his back against your mustard yellow sheets. His half dried curls a messy little halo around his head. 

He really is beautiful.

You make your way to the bed, pulling your comforter over his sleeping form and softly touching the bruises in his cheek. He doesn’t stir even a little. 

Over the next three days you, watch him.

You’ve never seen someone sleep so much in your life. It worries you at first, checking to see if he is breaking multiple times throughout the day. But he just continues to sleep, only moving to turn on his side or stomach and barely makes any noise at all.

You email your professors the first day and tell them that you won’t be in class but would follow along online. You move a chair into the corner of your bedroom so you can stay close to him. It keeps you busy while Taehyung sleeps.

You also keep busy with cleaning your apartment and thinking of ways to have a very hard and strange conversation with Jungkook. How did you tell your best friend…someone you love…that you may also have feelings for someone else? 

And how did you then tell your best friend that the other person you have feelings for is the monster he’s been trying to capture for months?

At night you curl up next to him in your bed, but always carefully so you don't disturb him. You want him to feel better as soon as possible.

It was mid morning on the third day, some very difficult calculus questions driving you crazy when you hear Taehyung groan and lift his head from the pillow. 

“Pigeon?” He croaks, his voice rough and dry.

“I’m here, it’s okay.” You toss your book aside, rushing over to the side table and handing him the glass of water you sat out every day in case he woke up needing it. “Drink this please.”

He doesn’t argue, taking the glass of water and downing all its contents in an instant. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, chest heaving.

“That may have been the best water I’ve had in my life.” You take the glass and sit down next to him on the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost three days.” You move some black curls away from his forehead when he looks up at you.

“Really? I wasted the whole three days sleeping? Fuck.” He sighs in annoyance.

“It wasn’t a waste, Tae. You obviously needed it after what you’ve been through lately.” 

The way he looks at you makes your stomach flutter and twist. Like he’s never seen anyone like you or felt anything like your touch. It’s maddening.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” He squeezes your hand and jumps out of bed far too quickly, heading into your bathroom where you hear him using the extra toothbrush you had sat out for him. You can’t stop the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

When he returns to the bed, he sits behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest so he can nuzzle his face into your neck.

“Thank you for watching over me,” he mumbles into your neck.

“How do you know I watched over you?” You ask, leaning back into his chest.

“There’s a chair surrounded by snacks, coffee cups and calculus books set up in the corner, Pigeon.” Taehyung kisses your neck and makes you shudder. “You’re too good for me.”

“It’s not that.” Your voice is a whisper when he moves your sweater off of your shoulder to kiss the heated skin there.

“What is it?” His mouth continues leaving warm, wet paths along your neck and shoulder.

“I care…about you.” Your head lulls back against his shoulder when his hands slide up your front beneath your shirt to cup your breasts in his hands.

“I’m still going to show you why I’m what you want…what you need. I didn’t forget.” He nips your earlobe and pinches both nipples with his long fingers at the same time.

You spin around, grabbing his face roughly and slam your mouth onto his in the next second. Taehyung’s hands immediately find your hips helping you straddle his thighs to settle on his lap. 

Any clothing creating an unwanted barrier between the two of you are quickly discarded without a care for where they land. Your skin feels like there’s millions of tiny embers just below the surface waiting to crack through and set the whole room on fire. 

Taehyung holds one arm tightly around your waist while the other maneuvers the two of you back farther on the bed so he can rest his back against the headboard. Your mouths never leave the others, tongues and teeth clashing in the most desperate way. 

“Are you okay…with this?” Taehyung suddenly asks. His hair is a mess and his lips swollen and chapped.

“I don’t know how to answer that question anymore. I wish I just knew what to do…” You feel emotion start to take over and Taehyung grips your chin to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. Not right now, okay? Right now I just want you to be mine. Because I’m yours…I belong to you.” He says it so simply. And it should be simple. It shouldn’t be possible to love them both.

He pulls you back to him, kissing you so gently it makes you shiver. One hand glides to the back of your head and settles in your hair while the other lifts your ass to hold you above his cock that was standing tall with need between your legs.

No more words need to be spoken as you position him at your entrance, your pussy slick and sticky from the build up to what’s about to happen. He takes his hand from your hip and brings it to your throbbing clit, using his thumb to stroke it slowly while you lower yourself onto him.

The stretch of him mixed with the way his thumb strokes you is as close to heaven as you can imagine. You can feel yourself getting wetter that more you try and accommodate his size.

“Be good for me, Pigeon. Ride my cock.” He moans the words around one of your nipples when he leans forward to capture one with his lips.

Once fully seated, you slowly move your hips in a circular motion, causing his engorged cock to hit places inside that make fireworks pop behind your eyelids and your head to fall back when your back arches.

“Fuck…you feel so good,” you finally manage to say.

“I could come right now just watching you take me like this, angel. Like you were made to have my cock inside you.” Taehyung groans as his hands find your hips and help you start to move up and down.

You find a mind numbing rhythm, and orgasm on the brink of breaking through. You’re so close it almost hurts. 

“I need to come, Tae…please.” You wrap your arms around his neck, sweaty chests sliding against the other.

“Me too. Fuck, I can’t wait to come inside you.” He holds you steady, digging his heels into the mattress and thrusting upwards to meet your movements.

A silent scream has your mouth hanging open and eyes rolling to the back of your head when you finally get your release. Taehyung’s lips and tongue scorching the skin of your neck when he feels you clench around him.

“Good girl, Pigeon. Come all over my cock.” He holds you down, fully sheathing inside you when he finds his release as well. 

You slump against his chest, breathing hard as you start to come down for the incredible high he had just given you. 

Taehyung kisses your shoulder and up your neck, over your jaw and chin until he reaches your lips. Kissing your raw lips in the softest way.

“You okay?” You ask, still out of breath.

“Never better.” He smiles, moving sweaty hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some more water. Maybe snacks?” You move from his lap, the sudden empty feeling making you groan.

“Venom will be here soon. If he isn’t already.” His smile fades.

“I know. So let’s get you fed and hydrated before he makes his presence known, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Don’t be too long.” He holds your hand to help you off the bed while he readjusts against the headboard. You playfully roll your eyes, grabbing your t-shirt off the floor and quickly throwing it on before you slip out of your bedroom to the kitchen.

You fill up two more glasses of water and begin rummaging through your cabinets for any sort of edible snack when you hear tapping on the glass doors leading to your balcony. You nearly drop everything when you turn and see Jungkook standing there in his Spider-Man suit, his mask in his hand.

“Fuck.” You grumble, sitting down the snacks and water before going to unlock the door with pure fear coursing through your veins.

“Since when do you lock this door?” Jungkook asks as soon as you turn the lock.

“Just to be safe.” Your voice shakes and your eyes continuously flash towards the hallway where you know your bedroom door is wide open. Another man in your bed.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in so long I just…” He pauses, a look you recognize crossing his face. He senses something.

Shit.

“Is everything okay?” You know the answer.

“He’s in here.” Jungkook immediately starts to push past you to look through your apartment.

“Who? What are you talking about Jungkook?” You try to grab his arm while he looks in your living room.

“The monster. I know that feeling anywhere. He’s here. What the fuck is he doing here?” You shove against his chest to stop him.

“There’s no monster here. I think you need to go.”

“What the fuck is going on, Data? Is someone else here?” His jaw ticks and your panic is starting to take over.

“I…um. Jungkook, please just listen.”

“Who? Who the fuck is it?” He pushes past you and you grab his arm to stop him before he freezes in place, looking at the doorway that leads to the hall.

Taehyung in all his shirtless glory stands leaning against the frame.

“Looking for me?” Taehyung smirks and you want to die.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jungkook practically seethes.

“Pretty sure you know the answer to that.” Taehyung takes a step towards you and Jungkook immediately blocks his path.

“You’re him? The monster from the lab?” Jungkook asks, moving into an even more protective stance.

“You don’t need to protect her from me.” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest and walks over to the counter where you left the water and snacks, picking up a glass and taking a few drinks. “I’d never hurt her.”

“You mean the way your monster left her bruised and bleeding by the docks? Fuck you.” Jungkook takes your hand and pulls you towards the balcony door. “I don’t know what you’re doing with him, Data, but he’s fucking dangerous. Let’s go.”

“Jungkook, please. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t fight me on this. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Since when do you care about ___? She may as well be alone when she’s with you.” Taehyung moves to stand in front of the doors.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lucky I don’t drag you to Mr. Kim this fucking second.”

“Is that so, spider boy?” Taehyung smiles and grabs Jungkook’s shoulder to stop him from dragging you any farther.

Jungkook lets go of your wrist and pushes Taehyung in the chest. But before he can make any other moves, Venom’s black crawling skin swallows Taehyung and replaces him with the huge looking monster.

Venom roars, shaking your entire apartment. He’s so big he takes almost half the room.

“Get the hell out of here, Data!” Jungkook yells, slipping his mask back over his face.

You want to rip your hair from your head. Scream at the top of your lungs. Stomp on the floor like a two year old throwing a tantrum. 

But you deserve this after what you’ve been doing.

“Stop.” You say, watching Jungkook shoot a web at Venom’s sharp clawed hand. “Stop it!” You practically scream, making the both of them pause to look at you.

“Go outside, Creature.” Venom growls.

“You’re both going to listen to me. Right fucking now.” You walk across the kitchen and stand between them. “You’re not about to destroy my apartment with your pointless fighting. So listen to what I have to say.”

Jungkook stays in his defensive position but nods towards you for you to continue.

“You’re going to listen too, monster. Understand?”

“Bossy little creature.” He groans, ripping Jungkook’s web off of his hand and giving you his attention.

“I realized the other day that you all want the same thing. You want to shut down that lab and stop the testing they’re doing on humans. Venom wants to save his friends and go home and Jungkook, I know you want to save everyone trapped inside there. So why don’t we all work together to make it happen?” You release a long breath after everything spills out. “And after we do that…then we can talk about…us.” You motion between the three of you.

“Data…I didn’t know that I…” Jungkook starts to say but you stop him by holding up a hand.

“We aren’t doing this now, okay? Right now, we need to go see Jin.” 

“Ironman.” Venom growls in distaste.

“He can help. I know he’ll know how to get you and the other symbiotes home.” you try to reason. 

Venom contemplates for a moment before answering. “Fine, Creature. But if he messes with me, I eat him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jungkook half laughs, taking off his mask as he approaches you. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Now let’s go.” You walk out the balcony door and wait expectantly. “Well?” You tap your foot.

Jungkook and Venom stare at each other for a moment, silently telling the other that these conversations aren’t over but that they’re going to trust you on this.

Jungkook puts his mask back on once more and makes a beeline towards you, grabbing you around the waist and jumping off the balcony with you in his arms. Venom barks a laugh and quickly follows after.

And then you’re falling.

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies @sureconfused @boisenberry77@ts19009 @lorarri @looneybleus @joyouart @armyugh @kthsmoon @vminluvrs @ooooglymoooogly (i did my best with this, i may have missed people who asked)

series masterlist

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death. Pt 2

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"Robin!" Orcale cried through the coms, startling Damian as he ducked beneath a punch thrown his way. Growling, Damian Sparta kicked the goon before him, spun around, and throat-punched the last one standing.

"What?" he huffed, glancing around his area to see if he had missed something; Father was facing off against Penguin, Tim was taunting Mr. Freeze, and Jason was plowing his way through the rest of the goons down on the ground floor.

Gunshots flashed by and up toward the roof, drawing his attention.

Turning around, Damian watched as Dick jumped from the rafters and dropped two other goons with brutal precision, their guns clattering to the ground. That's four. He could still hear Steph and Cass fighting in the other room over the comms, which makes it six. (Seven if he counted Duke, who was at home resting after a long patrol) They were still up and fighting, which meant nothing was out of place.

"Your boyfriend wouldn't happen to be named Daniel Fenton, right?" Barbara's voice was strained. She practically begged him to correct her and prove she was mistaken.

Damian tensed up but rushed over to help down the goons surrounding Dick, his heart thundering away in his chest. "What happened?" he growled, drawing his katana when a goon quickly pulled a knife. The sound of metal against metal almost blocked her voice, but Damian could still make out what she said.

"He's been taken by some cultists, they're broadcasting everything. They're setting up the ritual right now; they cut his arm and are using his blood mixed with black paint to mark the ground. I'm pretty sure he's in shock, he barely reacted to the cut."

"Oh, shit!" Steph cursed, "not the boyfriend!"

"Where?" he grunted, parrying the knife away and kicking the guy over the railing. The man's scream cut out as his body hit the floor. "Robin!" Father hissed in anger, quickly tying up Penguin.

"He'll live!" Damian shouted back as he marched toward the door and reached for his grapple gun, "Oracle! Where is he?"

The others could finish up here without him, they had already dealt with what the two rouges had been planning. All that was left was to gather up the goons and hand everyone over to the GCPD. His boyfriend, who hadn't texted him to tell him he had gotten home safe because apparently he'd been kidnapped by cultists, was more important than beating the crap out of some lowly goons.

"The Financial District, warehouse seven on 4th street." she huffed, the sound of keys clicking as she sent him the live footage. Clicking the side of his mask, he was met with the sight of his boyfriend bound to a chair and glaring up at the camera. His blue eyes were filled with more annoyance than fear, but that didn't reassure Damian at all when the camera backed up and revealed Danny's heavily bleeding arm.

They must have cut an artery with how deep the wound looked. The only reason he wasn't already dead from blood loss was because of how tight the ropes were, it seemed.

"Shit," Damian hissed as he shot his grapple up at the building across the street, "make sure an ambulance is en route, Danny's going to need it. They must have cut through his radial artery if not both."

He could hear Dick hold back a gasp at his words but ignored it, as he flew toward the roof and started running. A loud thud landed behind him, followed by footsteps as Father's gruff voice echoed into his ear as they ran. "Jets on its way, it'll be faster than the car." Damian silently changed direction, continuing to jump roofs.

"I'm coming with," Dick demanded, landing a couple buildings behind them. Damian grunted in acknowledgment, not caring what they did. He needed to be there, he needed to be there thirty minutes ago; when he should have been walking Danny home like he asked him too.

"GOTHAM!" the person holding the camera shouted with a slip of paper in their other hand, allowing the camera a glimpse of the words. Danny's eyes narrowed even more, something like disbelief filling his eyes as the man continued talking, "Tonight, you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

"Danny looks so disappointed," Dick snorted, pulling out his own grapple at the sound of the jet approaching. Of course, Danny was disappointed, it was a waste of paper just to remember so little. Damian agreed but couldn't do anything other than huff at his brother's comment, most of his focus on watching the video.

Dick wrapped an arm around him, firing at the jet just as it rocketed overhead. They were launched into the air and dragged over buildings as the jet flew toward their destination. Father dangled across from them for a second before the three of them latched onto the rail under the jet designed for quick departure. They sat in silence as all three of them focused back on the video feed.

"Now," the leader shouted, coming into view as the cameraman backed up. Danny and the freshly painted circle were in full view, but so was the group of people off to the side. Damian recognized two of the people on the ground. Nancy and Wyatt, Danny's forcibly appointed college guides or "parents".

Damian remembers the day Danny had been introduced to them, spouting vitriol in anger about them being acephobic and how the college wouldn't allow him to switch guides. Nancy was crying, her mascara running down her face. Wyatt was deathly pale, all the blood bleeding away from his face as he watched the cultists in what looked like horrified guilt.

"Let us begin," the leader cheered, grabbing Danny's shoulders from behind him. Danny glanced worriedly at the group and then at the camera like he couldn't decide what he should focus on, subconsciously cringing away from the man behind him.

"Join me as we summon our lord and savior!" Danny narrowed his eyes in anticipation, "The great tyrant of the dead!" he now looked confused, "The embodiment of war and bloodshed!" back to worried, "The one named PARIAH DARK!" amused, because of course, his boyfriend would find the name amusing, "THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!" now he was back to confused and worried.

The leader turned and walked back over to one of his followers, snatching an old book and opening it. Without any fanfare, the man began chanting, guiding his followers like he was the director of a twisted play.

"ten minutes," Father grunted, "Oracle, get everything you can on the ghost king. We need to know what we're about to run into. Call someone from Dark, we'll probably need their guide on how to deal with this."

Dick readjusted his grip, tightening his arm in reassurance as Danny's eyes glanced up and toward the rafters like he was looking for one of them. No, not like. He was looking for them; because Damian had promised him in the past that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. And if not them then he would. Danny had rolled his eyes at the time, sarcastically calling him his hero. But he believed him because Damian had promised.

Damian growled as one of the cultists smashed a bowl on the ground, splattering Danny in what he had to assume was the blood and paint mixture Barbera had told him about earlier.

Damian watched as Danny glared at the black stains all over his front with disdain, trying to mutter something through the gag in his mouth the camera couldn't catch. "Is he seriously worried about his shirt?" Tim huffed over comms, the sound of police sirens growing louder.

"I would too if that's the only nice shirt I had," Steph grumbled before shouting something at someone.

"My boyfriend owns more than one shirt, Spoiler." Damian hissed.

"No offense, Damian," Steph laughed, "but your boyfriend looks like he crawled out of a dumpster after losing a fight against one of your raccoons."

"Oh, give him a break! The poor boy's just been kidnapped, of course, he looks bad." Barbera chided.

Damian went to respond but stopped to watch as another cultist stepped forward and tossed salt at Danny. Danny shook his head and glared at the cultist, only to be slapped in the face with another handful of salt for his efforts.

"That's one way to rub salt in the wound," Jason huffed, "make sure you kick that one in the dick for me."

"With pleasure," Damian grumbled, leaning back to try and see the warehouse they were heading toward. "Seven minutes," Father added, noticing how impatient Damian was starting to get.

they silently watched as the cultists continued chanting, Barbera occasionally telling them things she'd found. (She was having difficulty connecting with The Dark members, something about an unexpected mission off-world.)

Danny was starting to look tired, his face paler than usual (A hard feat, considering his boyfriend looked like a fresh corpse on a good day. If he didn't know any better, he would think his boyfriend had never spent a second in the sun his entire life.)

Suddenly, Danny started to cough, shaking his head, clenching his eyes closed in pain for a second before focusing back on the leader. "The blood loss is starting to catch up to him," Tim commented as Danny glanced up at the rafters again, "let the hospital know to have extra blood ready."

"Got it," Barbera agreed, still typing away. "No one's answering, I'm going to try Constantine, now."

"Two minutes," Father warned, getting ready to jump. Damian steadied himself, leaning forward to time his jump correctly. "Shit," Jason cursed, drawing Damian's attention back to the video in time to watch as a cultist raised a bloody blade into the air and slammed it into Danny's chest. "You need to get there, now!"

The cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who was now standing in front of Danny. Danny's chest quickly stained red, his eyes wide in shock and horror.

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!" the leader's voice echoed in the silent warehouse like a gunshot. but Damian couldn't hear a single word the man spoke as he watched Danny lean forward in pain, trying to grab at his chest.

His restrained hands pulled against the rope, causing more blood to leak from his wound, his eyes clenching shut as his left hand started glowing green. He suddenly started screaming, his voice strained like it was being ripped out of his throat, barely muffled by the gag.

A bright light flashed, spreading from where he'd been stabbed and crawling over his body. His skin turned gray, almost blue, like a body found out in a snowstorm. His hair started floating in an absent current like he was underwater. and his eyes started glowing a bright blue, growing brighter and brighter.

"NOW!" Father shouted, launching off the railing and gliding through the air. Damian didn't hesitate to follow, all his training allowing him to go on autopilot as he used his cape to guide his fall.

Danny slumped forward, his head hanging limp as the warehouse went deathly silent.

Twisting in the air, Damian aimed his grapple hook and fired. It latched onto the warehouse and tugged him forward, his fall turning into a swing as he rocketed toward the glass window. "Your Highness?" someone asked, their voices glitching in and out with the video feed.

Damian watched as the Danny in the video slowly lifted his head in time with the Danny he could see through the quickly approaching glass. Damian only had a split second to register that his boyfriend's eyes were no longer blue, but bright green before his feet smashed through the window and he was landing in a roll on the ground.

Immediately, the camera feed disappeared from his view, allowing him to focus on what was around him. Father crashed through the skylight, showering the cultists in glass as he landed on the other side of the room. Dick landed next to him, fluidly popping up from his roll.

"Shit!" someone shouted, "it's the bats!"

"run!" someone else yelled.

Damian lunged forward, burying his fist into the first cultist's face with a satisfying crunch. The warehouse flooded with loud screams and rapid movement.

"Dammit!" the leader cursed, dragging Damian's attention over to him. He had left the circle at some point, crazily looking around to try and find a quick exit.

Abandoning the cultists he was fighting, Damian quickly sprinted at the man. Unsheathing his katana, Damian attacked. The leader used the bloody knife to parry, scrambling back to get away. Damian growled, about to follow when his eyes landed on Danny's black and blood-stained face right behind the man.

Bright Lazarus green eyes stared back.

~

Danny's vision tilted, or was that just his head? It felt like he was in one of those twisty things NASA shoves their astronauts in under the claim of training for departure and reentry into Earth's atmosphere. or maybe it felt like a hundred pounds of soaked cotton balls shoved behind his eyes and lit on fire?

he couldn't tell, at this point, his head could be detached for all he knew. Wait, no. He's done that before, this feels nothing like that. So, he still had his head... but does his head still have a body???

He would glance down, but he's afraid he won't be able to lift his head again... Had he lifted his head? or had the world moved around him like it does in the realms? Where was he?

Danny's core pulsed in confusion as someone stepped over the circle, quickly followed by someone else. No one was supposed to enter unless a deal was about to be made. Had he made a deal?

Blinking, he focused his blurry vision as much as he could on the figure slowly approaching him. Had he already been looking at them? His vision tilted again, making his gut roll in nausea. A voice slowly broke through the static ringing in his ears, and his shirt suddenly pulled in frightened hands.

"Your Highness! these are the sinners I told you about!" the voice screeched, a pitch so out of the norm that Danny could only assume the voice belonged to a small fly-turned-eldritch little girl.

Wait a moment, that was his title? Your Highness? seriously? Was everyone going to be calling him that? He was the king; wasn't it supposed to be majesty??? He'll ask Dora later; now wasn't the time.

"Oh great ghost king!" the high-pitched voice cracked and lowered back to one he was starting to get familiar with, "Pariah Dark, lend me your power so I might defeat him!"

Did he seriously just call Danny, Pariah??? The man, the leader of the cult, Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem, kneeled in front of Danny, his hands twisted into Danny's ruined shirt. The blurry figure froze, not moving now that Danny had broken eye contact to look down at the horrible man.

Danny might be completely out of it and have no idea what's going on anymore, (he was in so much pain, why was there so much pain? he wanted it to go away, why wasn't it going away?) but he's been trained for moments like this. He can't let anyone see him as weak, not when he has to protect the realms as is his kingly duty.

Clockwork thought it would be a good idea to drop him in the middle of a meeting with some demons right after Danny had pulled an all-nighter and fought three of his rouges. let's just say, Danny was not pleased with the old goat after that. On the other hand, every time he meets a new demon, they seem to respect him much more than before. (he's still not sure what he did to earn that, but whatever)

So, acting like nothing was wrong would be easy peasy.

Sitting up straight, like Dora taught, Danny gazed down at the man who had demanded his attention. He turned his jaw intangible, dropping the gag and allowing him to speak freely again, "why should I?" His voice was echoey, cold, and devoid of the usual emotion.

It was completely different than what it usually was. Like he was a completely different person. (He sounded like Dan) which caught Danny off guard, but he had to ignore it for now. Clockwork had said that Danny Phantom was different from King Phantom, maybe this is what he meant. (hopefully not, he hated sounding like Dan. Was this permanent? was he always going to sound like this???)

"Why?" the leader stumbled, letting go of Danny's shirt in surprise, "because I summoned you! I control you!"

He looked outraged like it was Danny's fault he was in this mess.

Snorting, Danny smirked at the man. "Why should I lend you my power when you haven't even gotten my name correct?" That was like common summoning courtesy 101, right? Frostbite said something like that... or was it Pandora? Wait... wasn't that the demon etiquette? What was the ghost-summoning etiquette then? Also, could he even lend his power to someone else??? like, demons could, but could Danny???

"Who cares!" the man snapped, picking up the knife he had dropped next to him and slashing it at Danny. He didn't even have to think as he instinctively turned his right arm intangible and snatched the man's wrist, clenching it tightly to make him drop it. He was not going to let the man stab him again, thank you very much.

his core grumbled in annoyance, scattering his thoughts for a moment. What was he doing? his arm burned like it had been shot with an ecto blast, but that wasn't right, it was cut by-

Oh, right. cultists. Gotta deal with that.

Fazing the ropes off, Danny carefully stood up. An almost silent whine drew his attention up; it was the fuzzy figure, or now that Danny could actually see a little easier, Robin. Huh, looks like the bats actually made it after all. A little late to the party, but oh well.

Wait...

Shit, he didn't need the Bats up in all of his business. Especially since everything the ritual did to him was recorded, the ghostly stuff included. (Was Damian watching? Did he think Danny was dead now? a normal person would have died right?) He'd have to clear up any misinterpretations later, right now he has to focus on gaslighting the Fuck out of Batman and his partners.

Maybe he won't even have to deal with the Justice League if he pulls this off.

ok, what do they think the situation is? A Cult recording themselves sacrificing some random dude, the dude gets stabbed in the chest (probably assumed dead, he'll have to fix that...), then some ghostly shit happens, and the dude has glowing eyes... which basically lines up with the socially accepted symptoms of possession.

Cool, cool, cool. Danny'll just act like he's possessing himself then. No need to make it weird. Or reveal that he's a halfa.

...

How the fuck was a ghost king, who for all intents and purposes, knows nothing about mortal life, supposed to act when possessing a random body????? does he call it his body?? vessel? homing beacon?

"-leas me this intance! I summoned you, you listen to me! ME! I summoned you. Therefore, you have to do as I say!" the leader's voice broke through Danny's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Again. Man, he seriously needs to get his shit together. Maybe it was the blood loss, they had cut him pretty badly earlier...

Sighing, which hurt a lot actually... he should probably fix that. Mentally shrugging, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to heal his wounds, which in turn settled his core a lot more than he expected. Maybe he shouldn't suppress it so much in the future... OR he should, and just not allow himself to be used in other rituals. Yeah, that's probably it. Man, he's going to have to talk with Frostbite after this is all over.

"You know nothing of which you speak, mortal," Danny grumbled, turning slowly to examine the warehouse. The bats had been fast, or Danny was just really out of it, because not only were all the cultists knocked out but the other hostages were gone.

"I know enough!" the man screeched, hitting his free fist against Danny's arm in an attempt to get Danny to release him. The only thing that was going to do was leave a bruise. Robin growled almost silently in response, which was weird. Why would Robin be upset about this man hitting Danny? or was he more upset along the lines of believing the random "hostage" Danny is "possessing" being hurt?

Yeah, that was probably it. All right, time to act all Ghost Kingly or whatever. If he was about to do something stupid then Clockwork would intervene. Since he hasn't so far, Danny was taking this as the old man giving his permission to proceed.

"Stop bruising my new favorite vessel, or I'll show you why it's a bad idea to mess with the dead." Danny hissed, pulling the man up so they were eye to eye. (it wasn't that hard, considering Danny was short as fuck. Who knew dying would stunt your growth?)

The man leaned back, his eyes wide in fear. His face turned green, or was that just the light from Danny's eyes? how bright were they glowing???

Oh, right, old ghost king, you need to focus here Danny.

Rolling his eyes, Danny harshly (not as hard as he could have though, even if he wanted to punt the man into the sun) tossed the man out of the circle and toward Robin. Nightwing, who Danny had just noticed was also there, quickly rushed over and wrangled the man over to the pile of cultists and tied him up.

"Your vessel," Batman grunted, stepping up to stand next to Robin. (Danny wasn't sure when, but Robin had left the circle. Which meant they probably had someone with magic experience telling them what to do now.)

"Yes, mine," Danny huffed, slowly turning to study the broken windows. his head was killing him, like four migraines stuffed into one killing him...

Do they not know how to use a door? Like, how often do they break through windows? Like, sure, it probably saves them a few extra seconds during a fight, but seriously? Do they at least pay the owners back for the property damage?

"He's not yours," Robin hissed, unsheathing his katana. Batman rested his hand on his shoulder, likely to warn Robin from doing something stupid.

Lifting his brow, Danny glanced down at his body. Did Robin know him? Or was he really just that protective of the people in his city? Even though Danny wasn't technically a Gothamite? He remembered Damian telling him at one point that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. Hmm, yeah, probably just very protective of the people in their city then.

Danny was the same way when he was Phantom; those tourists might not be native Amity Parkers, but they were his tourists. So back off, ghost number 700 of the week. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, that's probably it.

"He," oh wow, speaking about himself was so weird, "was used as a sacrifice to summon me, which makes him mine." Ignoring the fact that his body belonged to him beforehand because, again, this is his body, but you know, can't tell them that. Also, even if this was someone else's body, it'd technically be Danny's. Look, being the ghost king meant Danny owned a lot of weird things, one of those being literally anyone's dead body. (He refused to think about the fact that Pariah had technically owned his body.)

Glancing up, Danny watched as Batman tightened his grip on Robin's shoulder. "Release his body at once, you lowly demonic pit waste! His body-"

"OK!" Nightwing cut in, clapping his hands. "How about this," he glanced at Robin and then back at Danny, clearly nervous about Robin's outburst. Also, what the hell was pit waste? Like, obviously Robin was insulting him, but he could have at least used an insult Danny would understand.

Also, why was Robin insulting a supposedly all-powerful king of the dead? Wasn't he supposed to be one of the more rational vigilantes? Maybe he just got emotional when he thought he failed to protect someone? Which is completely understandable, Danny did not react well when he failed to keep someone safe.

"We apologize for any wrongdoing Robin's words have caused. You willingly go back to your realm, leave your vessel's body behind, and we" he gestured at himself and the other two, "don't get other magic users involved? how does that sound?"

"Is that a threat?" because seriously, that sounded exactly like a threat. Did they seriously not know how to talk to other dimensional beings? Shouldn't they, as Justice League members, know how to diplomatically converse with others? Especially ones that could kill them with a glance? (like, Danny obviously wouldn't do that, but come on!)

His core stuttered again, drawing his attention to the fact that Danny was running out of power to keep up whatever transformation he'd taken on. Which was weird because he's obviously not in his ghost form, so why was it so draining??? And there's plenty of ectoplasm in the air, so, like, this was just ridiculous.

"Whatever," Danny huffed, looking down to study the circle as Nightwing started waving his hands in denial. "I already healed the vessel, he'll technically live." He could feel the pull it had on his core, which meant he had no idea what would happen once it was broken. Would he feel the same things he felt earlier? or would it just be like letting go of someone's hand?

Man, he was too tired for this crap. He wanted to go home and sleep. maybe steel his boyfriend's hoodie and cuddle with Cujo.

You know what? Danny didn't care, he should just break the circle and act like nothing happened. Yep, that's the plan. Still, he should probably prepare for if something goes wrong, you know, like passing out.

Carefully, both because the world was still kind of spinning around him, and to keep the bats from reacting badly, Danny made his way to stand in front of the Vigilantes. They should have quick reflexes; if he passes out, they should be able to catch him, right?

Without warning, Danny dragged his shoe over the line and broke the circle. Immediately his core hissed and all of his energy disappeared. Crumpling forward, Danny barely processed the sight of Robin's panicked lunge to catch him before everything turned dark and his body felt on fire.

Next?

[roses-and-revolutions]

DC x DP Prompt

To the delight of Gotham's citizens, and the dismay of her criminal underbelly, the GCPD has a new specialized unit that ACTUALLY apprehends criminals and brings them to justice!

It's a relatively small squad of mostly young adults, who looked fresh out of their teens. But age didn't matter once they got the work done. And they did, as they've already got criminals like Penguin, Riddler, and Bane behind bars for what looks to be 'for good'.

No one besides Commissioner Gordan knows anything about the squad as they operate as a mostly separate entity from GCPD. It was rare to see any of them, and any photos taken were unusually blurry. They are also extremely secretive; if you exclude their social media which are usually just shit posts, memes, and thirst edits of the Wayne family.

They were a total mystery. Almost as mysterious as Batman.

But those who have seen/worked with the squad before all had the same thing to say about them. They were cool. They had an unusually effective method. And their leader is a menace. With his sharp teeth and pointed smile. And bright blue eyes that spoke to your soul. It was a pleasure to see/ work with him, it really was. But they weren't planning on doing so again for a long time.

That being said, Gotham had been quiet for a while. A bit too quiet if you ask anyone, especially the Bats. Strangely, it didn't feel like the usual calm before the shit storm. The instinctual pit in their guts that usually formed just wasn't there. This was different. This wasn't the calm before the storm. This was the ocean receding. But no one seemed to realize it yet.

Not until the tsunami came crashing down on them.

The GCPD special unit accounts that had been inactive for the last three months suddenly pinged to life. Everyone who followed them clicked the notification almost immediately. With this unnerving calm surrounding them, who the hell didn't want to see what batshit crazy statement they would make after three months of radio silence.

What they didn't expect, was to see a crystal-clear picture of justice finally being served.

The picture was a selfie, taken in an abandoned warehouse. In the middle of the dirty floor was the Joker. He was tied up and his head hung low. You could see how beaten he was, his clothes torn and bloody. His face paint was also coming off, revealing pale blotchy skin. Reminding everyone that, he was still human, just like the rest of them.

Behind him, all lined up with smiles on their faces, was Team Phantom. They were a bit bloody and bruised as well but overall in much better condition. They weren't wearing the normal GCPD navy blue uniform, but black and white ones. All stylized to fit the wearers taste. They all looked so young, but their eyes looked like old tired eyes, finally getting some relief.

From in the corner was their leader. Only part of his face was in the picture. One glowing blue eye, and part of his Cheshire smile. His hand making a peace sign next to the Joker. Even with only part of his being shown, everyone could tell he was relived as well.

And while the picture itself was shocking, the caption was what really got them. The top was what you would usually expect from the team. A big bold 'GOT EM' ' at the top. But at the bottom in small, almost unnoticeable text was:

"He will face his punishment. We will get our retribution. May we finally rest in peace."

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything

Part 2, MasterPost

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains. 

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing. 

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank. 

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily. 

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?” 

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with y'all.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

[akamitrani]

omg i just read your dht fanfic and it was so good!! if your taking requests could i request that reader is married to david and she was with him on the set if terrifier (2024) and reader asks him to make love to her with his Art costume still on? Thanks!’ (sorry if this makes no sense lmao)

— The After-Hours Act —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, established relationship, costume kink, roleplay (?), kissing, pining, choking, rough sex, public sex (well, kind of).

Summary: It's late at night, filming is practically done. Your husband, David, gives his final performance of the day.

[A/N: Omg hi, yes I accept requests! Thank you so much for liking my last fic 🤍 Hope you enjoy this one too, it's my first time doing smut. I absolutely loved the idea and probably had way too much fun with it lol.]

The set was alive with chaos. Flickering lights casting long, jagged shadows against the cracked walls, making the abandoned warehouse look even more sinister. Fake blood is pooled on the concrete floor and the air is thick with the smell of sweat, latex and the metallic tang of stage blood.

In the middle of it all stood David, fully transformed into the unnervingly silent and grotesque Art the Clown. His smile stretched wide under the white mask, black lips curling into a grimace that was equal parts amusing and horrifying.

You watched from the shadows just beyond the set, your eyes never leaving him. David had always been able to command a room and, as Art the Clown, he held a power that drew you in no matter how many times you had seen him in character.

The director yelled “Let's wrap it up!” and the tense energy of the set dissipated like smoke. David instantly broke character, his terrifying expression melting into his usual boyish grin as he exchanged a few words with the crew. His eyes flicked over to you and he gave you a subtle wink.

Your heart skipped a beat as he made his way toward you, still in full costume. The other crew members busied themselves with cleanup, leaving you and David in a pocket of relative privacy.

“Enjoy the show?” – he teased, voice low and familiar despite the eerie costume.

You couldn’t help but smile, mix of nerves and excitement – “You were terrifying, as always. But...” – you replied, eyes lingering on the smeared makeup around his lips – “I have a little request tonight”

David’s brow quirked in curiosity, he stayed silent, slipping back into Art’s mute persona for a moment. You took a deep breath, stepping closer so only he could hear your words...

“Can you stay in costume... For a little playtime, with me?” you whispered getting closer to him, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

For a split second you saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, it was quickly replaced by a mischievous glimmer... He understood the idea. He nodded slowly, slipping fully back into character, his smile turning wickedly playful. Stepping back, he walked towards the door of the warehouse, locking it.

You felt a thrill shoot down your spine, you were completely alone with him now – No crew, no distractions. He moved closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey. The game had begun.

David – or rather, Art – stopped just inches away, tilting his head in that unnerving, silent way.

“Are you sure about this?” – he whispered, the question hanging in the air like a dare. You could see it in his eyes, he was more than ready to play along. You wanted to see just how far he would take it, how much you could handle... You nodded.

Without warning, he lunges forwards, pining you against a cold concrete wall. A gasp escapes your lips as his gloved hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but enough to send a wave of adrenaline through your body.

The pressure of his hand on your throat sends waves of heat between your legs, your breath coming out in short gasps. He leaned in closer, his painted lips brushing your ear, he remained silent, true to Art's unsettling nature.

You whimpered softly, feeling the undeniable desire. David's grin widened and he pushed you harder against the wall, his free hand slipping to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his growing bulge against your thigh, his gloves rough against your skin. His eyes bored into yours demanding submission.

You gave in willingly, letting him take control over you. The grip on your throat tightened just slightly, enough to make you even more wet.

“David...” – You breathed his name. A futile attempt to break the spell of Art's menacing silence.

But he wasn't ready to break character yet. Instead, he released his hold on your throat and captured your lips in a messy kiss, taste of makeup and sweat mixing between you two.

He pulled back, just enough to look at you. For a moment you thought he might speak, but instead he let out that eerie silent laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looked at you with a mocking expression.

“You really are good at this...” – You said, voice husky with arousal and fear.

He flashed that terrifying grin again and in a heartbeat lifted you up in his arms. You look at him with a surprised look as he carries you to the prop bed in the set and carefully throws you in it. He hovers on top of you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. This time you completely feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, making you moan – “Hmm yes...”

David's hands start to wander around your body, you're completely under him, completely at his mercy. His fingers slid under your dress pushing it up, revealing your black lacy set of lingerie. He pulled back and paused for a moment, he had an idea, suddenly getting out of bed – you look at him confused.

"David? What happened?" – You asked, afraid you did something wrong. He doesn't speak, instead he silently laughs gesturing for you to wait with an excited expression.

You watch him happily reach for Art's infamous black trash bag that was in a corner, open it dramatically and start looking for something inside of it. You were about to say something, but before you could do that he threw the bag away, in his hand is a black knife with fake blood still on it. He smiles devilishly pointing to the knife... then you. You freeze, feeling genuine horror with his actions now.

David senses your growing tension and gestures with both hands as what can be understood as 'relax, I'm not going to hurt you... probably'. What an imp. He starts crawling on top of the bed towards you with a hungry look, reaching your legs. He signals for you to open them and you gladly do so, without asking questions. He pauses for a moment as if savoring the situation, the position you're in – He gives you his trademark creepy smirk.

He reaches for your panties, his finger lifted one of the side edges and in a swift motion he uses the knife to slash it, removing it and revealing your throbbing cunt – now on full display for him. You inhale sharply, the cold air making you shiver. He throws away the knife and your undies somewhere around the set.

He pulls you towards him roughly, demanding, pushing your legs more far apart. You notice his bulge is very prominent now, poking through his clown costume. David hovers above you, one hand beside your head and the other ghostly stroking your sensitive bud making you moan. You don't want to wait, can't handle teasing now – you shift slightly as a form of protest.

“Fuck me now” – You breathlessly groan

He stopped in his tracks and looked you dead in the face, up until now he has been real soft with you, taking things slowly... But if you're such a needy bitch with no patience then he will give you exactly what you want.

David pulls back slightly and gathers your legs in front of him, pushing you to the side forcing you to change positions. Your back now is exposed to him, your ass completely tilted up, he uses his knee to once more spread your legs. You tried to look back at him but he shoved your head down in the bed and unspokenly demanded you to stay this way. Not wanting to defy him again you accept his command.

You stayed like this for a few seconds wondering why nothing has happened, you couldn't help but listen to your surroundings, especially behind you – focusing on any sound, any clue to what will happen. Unbeknownst to you, your husband – Art, at the moment – was dazed at the sight before him. Pussy swollen with desire and wetness threatening to drip down your groin, enough to make his dick beg to be released.

A sudden sharp noise of tearing cloth invaded your ears, making you jump a little bit. You were scared to look back but your curiosity was louder at the moment and you couldn't help but slightly glance to the source of the sound. David had torn his clown suit to free his dick, now holding his fully erect member in his hand leaking in precum, pumping it a few times.

He caught you looking and in a futile attempt you tried to avert your gaze, too late now. He smiled wickedly and as punishment, he gave you an unexpected ruthless slap to your butt, making you hiss in both shock and pleasure. The stinging sensation only adding to your burning heat. He continued – two, three, four, five slaps – smacking until you were moaning for the pain, for him.

“Mmm-aah fuck” – you moaned – “fuck me, just fuc-”

Your phrase cut short when he entered your pussy, shoving his dick deep inside you then completely out in a excruciatingly slow speed. He was taunting you, giving you what you wanted but not in the way intended to.

“Mmmm Dave, please ah- please...” – You cried out. You could feel the clown smirking behind you.

David started picking up speed, pounding hard, grabbing your waist for stability. There will definitely be some purple digits engraved there tomorrow.

You can hear his ragged breath and occasional whimpers, you're surprised he could maintain Art's silent persona this far. David is usually quite vocal, he enjoys praising you during sex. The difference is noticeable, you're still unsure about it... On the other hand, his much more dominant demeanor when portraying Art makes up for it.

He takes his dick out and flips you on your back to face him again, he takes your legs and puts them on his shoulder. He promptly aligned his shaft with your entrance again, staring directly at you. David's half-lidded blue eyes peaking through the white mask, black lips slightly open indicating breathlessness. Pounding you, he pushed your bra out of the way, he loved the erotic sight of your tits bouncing just for him.

His cock deliciously hit your sweet spot with expertise – he just knows how to make you feel good – feeling the climax build up more and more on your stomach on each thrust he gives, you're almost there.

He leans in closer to you, one of his hands grabs your throat while the other stays at your waist, pining you completely onto the bed. He's choking you mercilessly, cutting your oxygen this time.

David picks up his speed really fast, making the prop bed creak loudly, the sound of rough slapping skin filling the set – Your orgasm threatening to crash down. The stimulation is overwhelming and you can't hold it anymore.

His dick hits hard and deep in your pussy – you deliciously cum, your juices spilling all over his shaft. He nods maniacally feeling your tightening warm cunt around his cock, it was all that he needed to reach his peak – closing his eyes and throwing his head back, he ejaculates inside you with one final thrust. He releases the hold on your neck allowing you to gasp for air.

You see his face contorting and you think he might break character now. Instead he opened his eyes and smiled at you while clapping his hands cheerfully. The way he stayed silent, embodying Art’s menacing playfulness, drove you to the edge.

He removes himself from you, sweating, panting. You suddenly feel the exhaustion and so does he – literally plopping himself on the bed, by your side.

“I love you so much, you know that?” – he finally spoke after some minutes, the real David finally breaking through.

It was such a relief to hear his voice again – “I love you too... Even when you're being a complete psycho” – you teased, still breathless.

David laughed, genuinely – “I hope I wasn't too rough” – he said, pressing his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist in a comforting embrace.

“Maybe a little” – you admitted, resting your hands against his chest – “But I like it when you surprise me”

David smiled, leaning in to kiss the top of your head, filled with all the tenderness you knew him for. It was just the two of you, sharing a quiet moment.

“Thank you” – he murmured – “For loving all sides of me... Even the creepy ones”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his chest – “I wouldn’t have it any other way”

You knew this was a moment you’d cherish – a memory of the man you loved, both the sweet husband and domineering clown... And tonight, you have experienced both.

“Alright, alright. I think we've given Art enough playtime for one night.” - he murmured, gently caressing your back. He kissed you one last time before preparing to get out of bed.

“I think I'll have to buy another clown costume” – he joked, pointing at his groin area, where he had ripped the fabric.

“And new panties for me, ruined my favorite one” – you added with a fake pout pointing at the long gone undies, currently at the floor. (rip undies)

“Yeah, sorry about that... I- I don't know what I was doing honestly” – he said looking down

“No, no. None of that. I loved everything. All of it.” – You quickly replied, forcing him to look at you. You could swear you saw a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“C'mon, let's get out of here” – He said sweetly, slipping his hand into yours – “We've had enough fun for one night”

Some minutes later as you both walked out of the darkened set hand in hand, you realized what you had just experienced was a moment you'd never forget. Fear, love and desire collided in the most thrilling way.

[hpsfloors]

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[hotchner-edu]

hi! I know you’re on a little writing break but if you get the chance what about where reader has to do like hand to hand combat with an unsub like JJ does in s7 bc her and hotch get paired up but they take him out first and so it’s up to her to get them both out of there alive or something and then him and everyone on the team is impressed bc reader doesnt look like the type to be able to do that or something 🤓

The Claws Come Out (Drabble) | Aaron Hotchner

It was no secret that you and Spencer were a bit coddled on the team, being the two youngest agents with, according to Derek, the demeanor of a kitten cosplaying business casual. You and Spencer have grown to just accept the picture the team has painted and prove your capabilities in other ways on the field.

"How's it looking so far, Spence?" You mumble and stare at the map he's pinned up on the board. Derek has his arms crossed, swaying a bit in his chair as he waits for the next phone call from the unsub. Hotch is standing beside your chair, eyebrows pinched together as he directs his attention to the board.

"I've narrowed it down to two places." Spencer hums, stepping back to analyze his work.

"But..?" You can sense how he's trailing off.

"They're on opposite sides of town. Deducing from the echoes we heard from his last calls, and the strong emotional connections he has with the previous crime scenes, we're left with..." Spencer points to two distant ends on the map. "The warehouse he was fired from and the church he frequented as a child." He finishes and clears his throat, turning around to look at Hotch.

"So we split?" You suggest and whirl your chair around to look up at the stern man.

Your unit chief considers it for a second before nodding and looking around the precinct. "Alright. Reid, you and Dave stay here and wait to see if Thompson calls again. If he does, keep him talking." He then turns to Derek. "Morgan, I want you, JJ, and Prentiss to go to the warehouse."

"And we'll go to the church." You finish softly and smile, standing up and stretching your arms as you turn to your boss. "Can I drive?"

Unfortunately, you're yet again relegated to the role of passenger princess as Hotch navigates through the town, caution for the speed limit thrown into the wind. "He's not going to go down without a fight."

Hotch's words sound cautious, and when the car turns into the church parking lot, your eyes widen as you see Thompson's vehicle parked haphazardly by some bushes. "He's here. I'll tell the others."

"We can't wait for them to get here." Hotch is already unbuckling his seatbelt, only waiting until you send a swift text before hurrying to the church entrance.

You're trailing behind him, gun unholstered and pointed toward the concrete. "Only one entrance." You huff out with a worried sigh, watching as Hotch gently pushes one of the tall doors open, his other hand gripping his gun.

Fortunately, neither of you are immediately gunned down as he swiftly opens the door and ducks out of the way. It seemed that your unsub wasn't sitting at a pew, firearm at the ready.

You motion that you're going to go investigate one of the narrow hallways to your right, and Hotch goes deeper into the church. With your gun raised, you carefully step through the dimly lit passageway, seeing stacked storage bins coated in dust, and old books stacked on some rickety shelves.

No sign of Thompson.

Just as that thought brushes across your mind, you hear a familiar grunt along with some crashes. Hurrying out of the room, you rush back into the nave, eyes immediately zeroing in on your unit chief laying on the ground.

Some of the candles by the pews are knocked over, and you're only able to snap out of your shock when a harsh kick from your right sends your gun sliding across the floor. Recovering quickly, you see Thompson's shoe coming in for another hit, this time aimed at your face, and you duck breathlessly.

Seeing that the man is unarmed, you pop back up on your feet and close the distance between you both to send a punch across his face. Your right hook ushers a surprised grunt from his lips, and you quickly take advantage of his unsteady balance by sending a spinning back kick right to his sternum.

He flies back a bit and hunches over before letting out an enraged cry and lunging for you, hands flailing. You meet his hits with a sidestep and you send a kick to his backside, his momentum combined with your kick sending him headfirst toward the ground.

You see him trying to reach for your gun that's a few feet in front of him and you hurry to kick it away, yelping when he grabs your ankle and tugs you back, sending you crashing to the floor too.

He tries to get on top of you, breathing in harshly as he shuffles closer. Flipping onto your back, you grunt and lay your foot down on the ground to steady yourself before using the other to kick up toward his chest. He groans as he falls back, clutching at his chest that was likely aching from your previous kick.

Getting up on your feet, you watch him scramble to do the same. You can tell from his hunched shoulders and heavy breathing that he's having a hard time catching his breath and that this exchange was nearing its end. Grunting in frustration, you roundhouse kick him in a flash, the adrenaline practically bursting from your pores.

It's almost comical the way he flips over the pew behind him, crashing onto the floor in an unconscious heap. Catching your breath, you immediately hurry to retrieve your gun. However, as you turn around you're met with the shocked faces of your team at the entrance, guns lowered.

Blinking slowly at them, you offer a sheepish smile before turning to go check up on your boss. Your movements snap them back to reality as they hurry to call for backup and medics, Derek already marching to cuff your unconscious unsub.

No one says anything about the altercation until your hand is bandaged up and Hotch is cleared of any serious injuries. As you're walking away from the ambulance, Emily sidles up to your right and swings an arm over your shoulder.

"Kitty's got claws." She hums out with a bright smile.

"It was nothing." You shake your head and chuckle softly as she leads you over to where the team is circled together.

Rossi smiles brightly when he sees you, hand moving to pat your shoulder. "I heard from a little birdy that you saved the day. Good job, kiddo."

"Yeah, we were going to intervene, but you were winning." Derek jokes and shrugs. "But when were you going to tell us you could do all of that?"

"I was honestly going to wait for the day where you challenged me to hand-to-hand." You snicker softly. Derek rolls his eyes and shakes his head affectionately, calling out to Spencer with a teasing remark as he approaches with his hands in his pockets.

Your eyes dart around the vicinity, your head perking up a little when you see Hotch walking toward you all after shaking hands with the local police chief.

Slipping away from the group, you walk toward him with a small grin. "You gave me quite the scare, y'know?"

An all too fond smile flickers across his face. "I'm fine, but good job today. You've got a great roundhouse."

"It was nothing." You shrug before furrowing your eyebrows and looking at him inquisitively. "Wait, you saw that?"

"Yeah, I came to after you landed on the floor." He says with a faint smirk, raising a hand to brush against yours. "Are you okay though? It seemed like a hard fall."

You don't comment when his pinky hooks around yours. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm more sturdy than I look."

His eyebrows raise in amusement and his face softens as he keeps his gaze on you. "We should have you training the new recruits then."

"That'd be fun." You muse out as you turn to look at the cars around you. "Actually, Hotch, I'm so okay in fact that I think I'm fine enough to drive us back."

His chest rumbles with a chuckle as he shakes his head and walks toward the Buick you both took earlier. "Not a chance."

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 32

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Threats of SA; Threats of harming an infant; Distressed baby

Rick had stopped at every sign, letting you out while Carol or Lori cared for Birdie. You had used a tube of the baby’s diaper cream to paint a white bird on each surface. There were likely better things you have used but this one, you knew Daryl would understand and follow. Anxiety was slowly crushing your chest and try as you might to swallow it down, it was nearly impossible to bear.

It was at least an hour of Birdie crying restlessly before the warehouse was found. The dead surrounding it were little in number, easily dispatched by those that weren’t a child, pregnant woman, or one who had a baby suckling at her breast. You carried a bag on each shoulder into the building, wishing it were enough to help you feel like you were doing your part. 

You sat away from the door, knowing that’s where Daryl would have placed you and his daughter, furthest from any entry point. It was also to hinder her cries from attracting anymore walkers. She was inconsolable, something—mother’s intuition, perhaps—telling you that she had been made worse by the absence of her father. And as much as you loved their bond, you wondered how dangerous it could prove to be to encourage it. 

“I said leave it, Lori!”

Your head snapped up to find Rick stalking toward the door with his wife on his heels, her hands below her protruding belly as she attempted to keep up with him. “Rick. Rick, we need to talk this out!”

“No!” He barked. “What we need to do is survive, and we can’t do that if I don’t stay focused.” When she tried again, he turned with a shake of his head, leaving her there with tears in her eyes. 

“Lori.” You whispered, getting to your feet. It was difficult to get off the floor with a baby but you managed. You couldn’t stand to see her like that. No, Lori wasn’t perfect and she made a mistake. She had been alone with a child, acting out of fear once she had been told her husband was dead. Maybe she had loved Shane. Maybe she hadn’t. No one talked about it and perhaps they shouldn’t. It was all irrelevant anyway. Lori was there and pregnant and hurting so deeply. “Hey.”

“Oh. Hey, uh—” The woman turned and wiped at her eyes as if you hadn’t already noticed the glimmer of moisture. “Hey, Y/N.” Her eyes were drawn down to the wriggling bundle in your arms, little squeaks and sniffles escaping from behind the blanket. “How’s little Birdie?”

“She’s fine.” You lied, flinching when the newborn screeched. Taking a moment to move her onto your shoulder and begin patting her back, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I think she’s missing Daryl.”

“Yeah.” A gentle hand reached to pet the back of Birdie’s head. “Y/N, I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Lori was always so strong for everyone, her thoughts on the decisions that would affect the group never going unspoken. But then, at that moment, she sounded so small, so uncertain. 

“Don’t be.” You caught her hand before she could pull it back, holding it tightly. “I love Rick but he’s wrong. He’s wrong and he’ll realize it. I’m just so sorry that he’s hurting you like this in the meantime.” You stood by your words. Rick was trying to do what was right for the group, but even that was being influenced by the anger he harbored. For Shane. For Lori. For himself. 

“I deserve it.”

You blinked, mouth agape. “You do not!” You shook your head incredulously. “Look, you made a mistake. Doesn’t mean you need to pay for it over and over.” She mimicked you, her hair swinging back and forth. 

“No, I really do.”

“Lori.” You said pointedly. She looked you in the eye, face wet and flushed. “I get it. You were angry with him for what he did to Shane. It was a lot to take in and maybe your first reaction wasn’t the best one, but you’re trying to talk now, trying to understand. He’ll come around.” You gave a shrug. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll sic Daryl on him.” You smiled when she laughed wetly. 

Lori reached for your shoulders, pulling you in for a wide hug that angled to one side, Birdie and her belly making it laughable. “Thank you, Y/N.” She wiped her face with one hand, cupping yours with the other. “You know, I was a fool for thinking you were trouble when Daryl carried you out of those trees. I’m sorry for that.”

You waved dismissively with a quiet pfft. “Don’t worry about it. I am trouble.” Her smile dampened but didn’t disappear. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Birdie began to root against your neck with a series of coos and squeaks. “And we wouldn’t have this angel if you weren’t.”

Chuckling you began to wiggle your arm out of your shirt, Lori stepping forward to help. “Now if I can just get her daddy to eat as much as she does, we’ll be set.” Before you could situate your bra, the baby began to fuss, growing louder with each cry. 

“Well, she sure sounds like her father.” 

“Facts.” You nodded, grinning and guiding Birdie to your breast. “Grab Carl and come sit with me? We can work on some math.”

The sun had set, the knot in your chest growing tighter with each minute that Daryl didn’t walk through the door. Beth had taken Birdie to give you a few minutes of peace with Carol sitting just behind you. 

“He’ll be here. Daryl’s smart. And so are you for the signs you left for him.” She was brushing your hair, pampering you the only ways she knew how with the limited means at her disposal. 

“I hope he’s okay. What if he’s hurt? What if he ran into the herd?” You were twisting the front of the sweater you had thrown on when the temperature had dropped even lower. 

“He’s smart, Y/N.” You heard the quiet sound of the brush being sat aside. The woman’s hands began to work at your shoulders, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from her. “He’ll be here.” You nodded, hearing Birdie begin to cry in the back of the warehouse. 

“I’m being summoned.” You jested. Carol was smiling when you turned around and levered to your feet. Birdie was still crying, the sound echoing like a scene out of a horror movie. “Carol.” Your voice had gone low, serious. “Why isn’t Beth bringing her?”

“She’s likely trying to soothe her on her own. She looks up to you and wants to help.”

Beth looked up to you? Oh, that poor child. You were no one’s role model. 

You listened for a moment more, your brow creasing, lips turning downward in a deep frown. “Carol.” You waited for her reply before continuing. “You remember how you told me that I would be able to tell the difference between cries?”

“Yeah?”

“I think this one is telling me something’s wrong.” Your stomach was churning, the knot of anxiety twisting in your chest was no longer for Daryl but for Birdie, a deep sense of foreboding that your child was affirming. Something. Was. Wrong. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go check in then.” 

You nodded, feet moving with such haste that it took the other woman a quick jog to catch up. Birdie’s squalling had reached a new level, the breaths between cries barely audible in their stuttering. Without thought, you began to run, your tired body attempting to futilely resist. 

“Beth? Carl?” You shouted, the sounds of snarls and hands slapping the outside of the building growing louder with each inch of space you covered. “Beth!” The girl wasn’t answering. Lori and Maggie frantically called your name from somewhere behind you but Birdie’s desperate wails for her mother easily drowned them out. 

When you saw her, so small and fragile on the cold concrete, little limbs flailing, nothing else mattered. There was no blanket. No knit hat on her head. She was in only a diaper. 

“Oh god, Birdie!” What happened? Where were Beth and Carl? You didn’t stop, you needed your baby in your arms. The reasoning no longer mattered. You needed to ensure her well being before asking any questions. Nearly there, you exhaled. 

“Y/N, look out!” 

Without breaking stride, you turned toward Rick’s voice just in time to see the butt of the rifle. 

And then there was nothing.

Your head was throbbing, your pulse finding its way up to where the wet warmth was leaking from just above your right eyebrow. Struggling to open your eyes, you strained to focus through the rush of blood in your ears, the pounding of dead hands on the building’s exterior, desperately locating your baby’s panicked screeching. 

“Birdie.” You whispered, certain it was slurring. Your mouth just couldn’t form around the syllables. When everything finally cleared, you could see her. The tremble from the cold shook her tiny form. “Oh my god.” You whispered, attempting to struggle to your feet only to find that your hands were bound to a weighty shipping palette. 

Subduing your panic long enough to survey your surroundings, the glow of three kerosene lamps cast a pale yellow luminosity over the entirety of your group—similarly bound—with Rick and Beth struggling against the rope while the other heads remained bowed in a subdued level of unconsciousness. You turned your attention back to your newborn and renewed your fight against the restraints, your skin chafing and breaking open. 

“Mama’s here, baby girl.” Birdie would not be consoled. If anything, she grew more agitated. 

“So you’re the one stupid enough to have a shit-smearing biter magnet.” 

Your head snapped to the left, toward the roll-up doors. A group you hadn’t noticed leaned against the metal, armed to the teeth and reeking of mayhem. 

“The fuck do you want?” You snarled, a protective mother’s venom lacing every word. 

The single woman in the posse laughed, malicious and entertained. “Some fun.” She shrugged, her face split into a grin that made your teeth itch. “That’s really all there is left in this world. Survival and fun.” Lowering her rifle from its perch on her shoulder, she crossed the distance between the two of you and crouched. “We’re gonna take everything you have.” A finger traced your jawline, down your neck and circled your clothed nipple. “Everything.”

“Then we’re gonna let that gremlin bring the biters in to take care of the rest.” One of the men added without so much as a glance away from his handgun, the walkers growing louder as if they could hear and comprehend the promise of a fresh meal. 

Giving your breast a squeeze, the woman stood, scanning your group appreciatively before her eyes lingered on Lori. “Boys, you can take that one. I got no interest in that full belly.” She pointed the barrel of her gun at you. You never so much as flinched, your baby’s wails fueling a rage you’d never before felt. “I want her. And the kids.”

“You’re vile.” Hershel said in that level tone that usually ground on your nerves. In that moment, you found it more than fitting. 

“Ugh,” the female rolled her eyes. “Kill him first. No one wants those wrinkly old balls in their face.”

The words left you before you could even consider their consequences. “You’re gonna die today.” When she smirked at you, your steely glare remained. She lowered to a knee and pressed the muzzle into your chin. You barely contained a wince when your head was forced to tilt back. 

“What I’m gonna do is fuck that ruined pussy with this rifle and listen to your baby scream.”

Twisting onto your left hip, you brought up your right leg, your boot connecting with her temple just as she sat back. “Bitch.” You seethed, watching her topple over. Another man rushed you, his fist snapping your head to the side, reigniting the stars in your vision that you had only just managed to lose. 

“She’s gonna be fun, boys.” Staggering to her feet, she stumbled over to Birdie and pointed the rifle at the infant’s head. “Maybe I’ll just shoot the little one and let your screams bring the biters in when we’re done with you.”

“No!” Your anger faded to fear within a split second, the various voices of your then conscious and collective group pleading for your baby’s life. “Okay, okay. I’ll cooperate!” You bartered. “Just wrap her up. Please.” 

“I don’t think so, mama bear.” 

A noise from the front of the warehouse drew her attention, but not yours. Your wide, wet eyes were glued to that gun aimed at your daughter. Please, Daryl.

“Think the biters got in?” An older guy asked, hocking up mucus and spitting it at your feet. 

“Maybe. Go check it out.”

He obliged with a shrug, whistling the entire way until he disappeared into the darkness. 

The taunting continued, the other three group members moving from person to person, pointing out in disturbingly vivid detail what they liked or disliked about that individual. You paid them no more mind, instead watching the little contorted red face of your baby girl. You couldn’t warm her, comfort her. How could I let this happen?

“What the fuck?” 

Blinking back the fat tears you had given silent permission to fall, you followed everyone’s perplexed gazes toward the front of the warehouse. The old man staggered out of the darkness, a spray of blood his predecessor. His throat was gaping wide. 

“Gary?” The woman hyperventilated, her rifle nearly falling from suddenly inept fingers as his body collapsed to the concrete, not to move again. He must have meant something to her. 

Good. You smiled wryly. 

“Come out!” One of the other men shouted, prompting crazy lady to raise her own weapon. 

Your eyes flickered back to Birdie, yanking and wiggling against your bonds again, the ropes wet with your blood and unyielding. The baby was wearing herself out, cries simmering to shivering breaths and hiccups. The ropes did not give. Bitch could tie a knot, you’d give her that. 

“Oh.” The woman’s voice was suddenly excited as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I think papa bear’s joined the party.” She made a show of deliberately placing herself just above Birdie, moving her rifle a fraction of an inch before you watched Daryl, blood-saturated and dirty, step out of the shadows.

“Don’t point that thing at ‘er again.” He wasn’t pleading. He was demanding. 

The woman’s eyes sparkled, her free hand covering her mouth in an oopsie expression while she redirected the gun—finger on the trigger—right at you. “Is this better, your majesty?” In a flurry of clicks and shouted warnings, Daryl’s crossbow was aimed at her while all other weapons held him in their crosshairs. 

“M’a give ya one chance to walk outta here.”

She cackled, throwing back her head. “I don’t think you’re—”

“One chance.” Daryl repeated, his mouth unseen from behind his weapon. “Ya’d do well to take it.” There was a tremble to his frame visible even from the distance that lay between you. If you could see it, so could they. The only difference being that you knew it wasn’t from fear. 

“I want him too.” The woman jerked her chin toward your partner. “Put down the bow, pretty boy. You’re not gonna waste any ammo today.”

“Won’t be a waste.” With a quick twist of his torso, three things happened simultaneously: The crossbow fired. The ropes around your wrists went slack, the sleek length of the bolt pressing just against your skin. And Daryl stepped back into the shadows, a barrage of bullets following his retreat. 

With the enemies’ attention on the unknown whereabouts of the archer, you scrambled across the floor and scooped up your baby, throwing yourself backward onto your ass to slide behind the pallets that had held you. Her skin was so chilled, her tiny frame shivering as her distressed cries renewed in their intensity. 

“Mama’s got you, baby. Daddy’s here. Daddy came for us. It’s okay.” One arm at a time, you managed to pull yourself free of your sweater and bundled her up. You drew up your knees and held her close to your chest, shielding and warming her simultaneously. “They won’t touch you again.” 

Glass shattered, the area dimming as a bolt destroyed one of the old lamps. 

“Come out, you bastard!” 

Another lamp fell victim to Daryl’s aim. 

“Where is he?”

With a final sound that echoed for more than a moment, the environment was cast into darkness with only the myriad of gunfire battling the shadows that Daryl was using to his advantage. With each discharge, you curled tighter around your daughter, her howls splintering every inch of your heart. You longed to hold her properly, soothe her, fight away the fear that clawed relentlessly to sink its claws into such a space of innocence. You wanted to join the fray, rip out their throats, but Birdie needed you exactly where you were.

And she would always come first.

The number of weapons that fired continued to dwindle, the cling of metal against the concrete preceded by a shout or gurgle. 

Your archer was taking them down one by one. 

You wanted to see it, wanted to witness them suffer, even if it was for a mere moment but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk Birdie’s safety. 

“Someone get him!”

“Where the hell  is he?!”

“The fuck should I—” Another gurgle, another thud. 

“Fuck!” The woman screamed, her voice carrying from somewhere further away. You couldn’t be certain if Daryl had intercepted her or if she was simply fleeing, but as long as she was far away from your group—your family—you didn’t care. 

“Y/N.” Carol’s voice somehow managed to break through the chaos in your head, your eyes searching her out in the darkness. “Y/N, he got them. Can you—” 

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, unfurling from around Birdie to shuffle blindly forward, bowed over the little bundle to ensure you didn’t knock her into anything that might be in your way. “Yeah, I’m coming.” 

You found Rick first, cutting his ropes one-handed with a piece of glass from one of the lamps. Lucky you, it had been found by sliding your knee over it. 

“Take care of her, I’ll get everyone else.” He instructed. You nodded, knowing the deputy couldn’t see but it was all you had in you at that moment. 

“Where’s Daryl?” Beth asked, her young mind falling right into sync with yours. 

Why hadn’t he come to you immediately? Was he hurt? Had he given chase to the woman? 

You squinted against the flashlight’s beam, one eye clenching shut as you found Carol kneeling over one of the men, a bolt lodged in the right side of his neck. His head was at an odd angle, suggesting that the puncture had not been the end for him. 

With your family surrounding you, all eyes wide and cautious, looking for danger, watching for Daryl, you finally settled but only in the slightest. Muscles still tense, you shifted Birdie, drawing up your knees to place her on your elevated thighs. 

“Hey, there, little Dixon. Ssh, it’s all okay now.” Slipping a hand beneath the sweater, the relief of feeling warming skin nearly brought you to collapse. 

“How is she doing?” Hershel asked, his voice elevated to be heard clearly over the distraught infant. Your strength was nearly at its end. 

“She’s cold, Hershel. It—the sweater’s helping but she’s still so cold.” Your fingers were stroking her cheeks, brushing through wispy blonde hair, rubbing her belly over the sweater while careful of the drying umbilical cord. 

“Babies are resilient, Y/N. And this little doll just happens to have the genes of one of the most stubborn men I have had the pleasure of knowing.” A gentle hand rested on your shoulder. “I’d like to take a look at her all the same. May I?”

With a sniffle, you lifted Birdie, her tiny head just beneath your chin. One last gentle squeeze, you supported her head and passed her over to the veterinarian, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stood. You must have looked a wreck, but you needed to find Daryl, needed to hold him almost as desperately as you had needed to cling to your child. 

“Please! Just let me go!”

You spun where you stood, searching out the woman. “Daryl?”

“Were ya gonna let them go?” Daryl’s voice was menacing, his tone low and bleeding with promise of maleficence. You were acutely aware of others trailing as you followed the voices, moving boxes and stepping around tools to climb the stairs to the second level.  

“I—”

“Mm-mm. Don’t.” He spat, the sound of more containers falling over against the wall. “Don’t bother.” 

He came into view a little at a time, more with each step you climbed. His crossbow was on the floor. His crimson hands were empty. Still, the woman cowered, backing toward the windows with her body folded, palms up over her head in surrender. 

“Daryl!” You tried, but he didn’t acknowledge you. 

“Just let me go. I’m the only one left and I—Please, I don’t wanna die.”

Suddenly your feet wouldn’t carry you, heavy laden and stuck to the floor with the weight of your disbelief. You wanted to laugh just as much as you wanted to pluck the knife strapped to Daryl’s hip and slit her throat yourself. 

“Ya threatened my girl. Ya wanted to use my daughter as walker bait!” The archer hissed, his fingers flexing in and out of fists. “A fuckin’ baby an’ ya wanted to kill ‘er.”

You could hear the others at the top of the stairs, halting just behind you with the same interest of watching the scene play out, trusting Daryl to do what was right. 

But what was right?

“Ain’t gonna kill ya.” He finally said, tilting his head as the woman began to stand straight, the fear dissolving before your eyes. Daryl was a better person than you could ever be. If he walked away, it was going to take every single individual on that landing to restrain you. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. Thank you. I’ll disappear, I’ll change. I won’t—”

He moved so fast, grabbing her shoulders while driving the sole of his boot straight into her knee, the sickening snap of bone causing your stomach to roll while a sense of vindication washed over you. 

She needed to hurt. She needed to suffer.

Her screams stimulated the walkers around the building, their rotten fingers scraping against the metal, palms pounding, teeth gnashing. 

Daryl spoke loudly, holding her up by fistfuls of her shirt, his face inches from hers. “Said I ain’t gonna kill ya. Never said ya weren’t gonna die.” He shoved her, his boot once again connecting with her body, a kick to the abdomen with enough force to send her soaring backward. She crashed through the window, nothing but the splintered wood and shards of glass accompanying her to the ground.

Straight into the herd of ravenous undead. 

And her blood curdling wails of agony were music to your ears.