#They are busy in the background prepping fall backs and dead drops

[any-mouse]

It would be really fun to have a Su She time travel story. Because he thinks he’s got a handle on things, he knows Wei Wuxian’s buttons and how Lan Wangji seduced him. When he wakes up as a teenage disciple of good standing in Cloud Recesses, before Lan Wangji had ever thought about giving Wei Wuxian a good dicking and securing the loyalty of the most dangerous man of in three generations, Su She figures he can steal a march on his rival and steal Wei Wuxian for himself.

He did not account for:

*Wei Wuxian’s extremely Lan Wangji only oriented sexuality

*Lan Wangji being an enormous vinegar pot who did not appreciate someone attempting to steal his Wei Ying time

*Jiang Wanyin strongly objecting to someone trying to seduce his dashixiong

*Nie Huaisang’s objection to this interruption to the Wangxian show he’s been watching with melon seeds

It’s the last one that really gets Su She in trouble, not that he realizes.

Basically Su She has dreams of seducing a proto-Yiling Laozu, not reading the room right, and kickstarting Wangxian earlier as Lan Wangji squares off with someone making Wei Wuxian deeply uncomfortable. And in the background, a proto-Headshaker plots against someone actively impeding his romantic drama.

[wormstacheangel]

have some latinenatural for day 1 of @spnprideweek dean trying to come out to himself

Dean didn’t like going down this neighborhood. It never made him any money, plus the block is a dead end, so he always ends up circling back around with his heavy cart. His Tio always yelled at him for it, wasting precious time in a block where nobody paid him any attention because these Americanos aren’t used to people walking around selling comida.

Pero Dean always had one customer that always came running out whenever Dean came around, and he was worth the extra minutes he had to petal in the hot sun.

“Dean!”

Dean hears his name, expecting it but still feeling relief from hearing it. He looks ahead, his fingers stopped ringing the bells that have become background noise to him by now, and sees his favorite customer running out of the big white house Dean can only ever dream of renting. He wouldn’t ever dream of owning; he can’t have dreams so impossible.

Dean petals a little bit faster until he breaks in front of the pretty face he sees at least three times a week.

“Cas.” Dean practically beams at him even though he was trying to stay cool. Smooth. “Mi Angelito.” Dean winks, and he doesn’t miss Cas’s eyes widened and ears blushing at the nickname. “How you been?”

[continue reading under the cut or read on ao3]

Cas was dressed in his usual white button-up and slacks but they looked a lot more ruffled up than usual. His hair looked unkempt as it curled at the ends—Dean wasn’t complaining he loved it—and his typical neat shirt was wrinkled with sleeves pulled up to his elbows. He looked the guy up and down before his eyebrows creased together.

“You okay, Cas?”

“Yeah.” Cas sighed, shoulders slumping as he reached to run his hand through his hair—that probably explains the bed head—before smiling back at Dean with a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” Dean jumps off the bike and walks over to his cart. “The usual?”

“Please.”

Dean nods once before getting to work on a raspado de vainilla for Cas. He works in silence for a minute, just the sound of the ice scraping between them before Dean looks back at Cas.

“You know, si quieres, you can talk to me.” Dean looks up to see Cas was already watching him. “I know I’m a nobody, but I hear nobodies are great to vent to.”

“You aren’t a nobody, Dean.” Cas’s expression softens at the words. His eyes brighten as he looks at Dean, almost as if he can see into his soul. Then, just as Dean was about to drown in those baby blues, Cas looked away. His fingers started to twitch as he looked sheepishly at the ground. “Plus, my problems are small. I can deal with them by myself.”

Dean looks away, packing the ice into the cup before reaching to pour the vainilla as he talks. “Yeah, I know you can, pero; I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to.”

Cas is nothing but a customer that Dean has been crushing on—it was a small, slow, and scary realization. The only reason they’re on a first-name basis now is because Cas once left his name tag on, and Dean asked what it meant.

Dean handed Cas his raspado across the cart, Dean needed to keep his distance, but he knew when Cas reached for it, their fingers would touch; he looked forward to the simple touch each time.

They did, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat before he works on chicharrones, lots of limon, and a little bit of chile.

“But I get it, you know, if you don’t want to talk to me.” Dean looks up to see Cas still staring at him but with eyes filling with tears. “Holy shit.” Dean put the bag down and walked around to stand by Cas’s side. He grabbed a napkin from his cart and handed it to Cas to wipe his eyes. “Dude. Dude, please no llores. Don’t cry. People are gonna think I did something to you, and I’ll lose customers.” Dean tries to joke, but Cas doesn’t crack a smile. Instead, he rolls his eyes.

“Dean, nobody but me ever comes out here.”

Dean shrugs. “Potential customers then.” Dean grabs another napkin and reaches to wipe the tears that were already falling. “Estas bien, Angelito. Talk to me.”

“I-I shouldn’t.” Cas accepts Dean’s kindness for a second longer before gently moving Dean’s hand away. “You’re working. Let me just pay you so you can stop wasting your time here.”

Dean nods, stepping away from Cas so as not to seem pushy. As much as he loved being so close to Cas’s face, he didn’t want to seem creepy about it. This neighborhood has eyes everywhere, and Dean couldn’t really risk having his cart, his livelihood, be taken away just cause he has a small crush on the white boy.

So Cas gives him the exact change to the quarter and smiles sadly before he waves goodbye. Dean waves back as he gets on his bike to pedal out of this neighborhood and into a more comfortable one. He didn't ring the bell until he was out of there.

Cas doesn’t come out to see him the next day or the day after that, and now he has to wait until next week to see him. If Cas still wanted to see him.

“I don’t know why you still go over there,” Sam says as he helps Dean unpack the car.

Dean’s side gigs included selling his homemade food Friday through Sunday—he can almost call himself a caterer—while on Thursday, he preps during the day and works as a janitor in a big law office at night. Today was Thursday, so Dean had to wake up early to go to the big marketplace downtown. They sold the chicharrones de harina in bulk for cheap, and they had all the ingredients he’ll need to make the syrups for the raspados himself.

Sam rarely comes with Dean to get all these things since he was always busy with school, but today he came along on the day that Dean ran out of maiz azul. It just meant more trabajo para los dos.

“Or why you still sell raspados when you make more money on the weekend with your food.” Sam continued as they struggled to carry the bag of maiz to the kitchen. They both let out a heavy breath when they finally dropped the bag in the kitchen. Dean’s going to spend the next hour cleaning and soaking the damn corn after this. That doesn’t even include cooking it and finally making the damn masa.

“El trabajo es duro but I like it.” Dean pats Sam’s shoulder before they go back to the car to get the rest of the things. “I like going down neighborhoods and saying hi to people.”

“I get that pero why do you have to go to their side of town?”

Dean doesn’t know how to answer that.

He hasn’t told anyone about Cas. About how one day he was bored and wandered over to that neighborhood only to find Cas laying on his front lawn with a book covering his face. Dean, for some reason, couldn’t help but to ring the bells louder, startling Cas. Dean laughed for half a second before a book went flying to his face, knocking him off his bike. Cas learned too many cuss words in Spanish that day, but the big bruise was worth it.

Still, Dean didn’t want to tell anyone about Cas. Afraid to even speak of him because that would mean that his crush was real. That he had actual feelings, romantic ones, for another guy.

He knows que su Tío no lo va sacar de la casa pero todavía Dean tenía miedo. He was scared to admit this part of himself was real when it felt like a sin in his culture. ¡Ser gay es una cosa pero bisexual! ¡Ni madres! That doesn’t exist. Not where he is from.

So he’ll keep it to himself. Keep Cas as his secret fantasy and nothing more.

“The houses are nice to look at. One day, Sammy!” Sam was already groaning at Dean’s words that sounded more like an old man’s recurring ‘when I was your age’ stories. “One day, I’ll get us a house like that! One where we can each have our own room. And bathroom.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Let’s just finish this so I can go back to my homework.”

“¡Estas pendejo! After this, you’re gonna help me clean the bathroom and throw away the trash before Tio comes home.”

“But Dean,”

“¡Pero nada! ¡Piensas que soy pendejo como tu, pinche mamón! Don’t think I don’t know you spend that time babeando por tu novia.”

“Dean!” Sam quickly passes him in a huff of embarrassment while Dean laughed, following Sam back to the car to get more groceries.

When Monday rolls around, Dean forces himself to come down Cas’s street again. The bells rang softly at first, only getting louder as he came closer to the house. He didn’t see a car in sight, so he thinks maybe Cas isn’t home.

He was already pedaling away when he heard someone call out to him. He hits the breaks half haphazardly, and the gallons shake on his cart, threatening to fall out. He was about to turn around, but then he realizes he hears footsteps running closer, and then he hears heavy breathing by his ear.

“Fuck.” Cas hands rest on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “Are you-are you trying to run away from me?” Cas looks up with a teasing smile, it was beautiful, and Dean didn’t realize how much he missed him until now. “I am your only customer around here, so that’s a pretty bad business decision if you ask me.”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted to see me.” Dean could have joked around with him, but instead, his mouth decided to kick the conversation off with some honesty. Dean looked down at the bike handles as he talked. “Since you didn’t come out last week, I just figured-”

“Oh.” Cas stood up straight as he ran a hand through his overgrown hair; his clothes looked neat again, though. “I didn’t mean to make you think-”

Dean holds his hand out to stop Cas from talking, feeling embarrassed with every word. “Para. You don’t have to explain. No me debes-you don’t owe me anything.”

“I know that, but I want to. Talk, I mean. If that’s okay with you.” Cas looks at Dean with soft, warm eyes, a drastic difference from the red-rimmed eyes from the last time they saw each other. “After you’re done with work, of course.”

“I um-I usually head home around six. I can um,” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, not meeting Cas’s eyes as he carefully says. “I can come by after if you want.”

“I would like that.”

Dean's head shoots up to stare back at Cas, who looked shy, pero siempre más guapo que la última vez que Dean lo miró.

At that moment, Dean wanted to lean in and kiss him more than he has wanted to kiss anyone in his 26 years of life, but he won’t. He still wasn’t sure if this was Cas asking him out as a friend or as something more. He was scared, but he knew his heart raced in excitement more than anything.

Dean finally broke away from the staring contest as he cleared his throat to get off his bike. “Todavia quieres-Do you still want your raspado?”

“Oh. Sure!”

It was silent while Dean made raspado, but he couldn’t wait for their fingers to graze again when he handed the cup over to Cas.

“Just the raspado today.” Dean still loved when Cas said it, trying not to laugh even though he loved Cas’s embarrassed blushing. Cas reaches into his pocket, but Dean reaches to touch his shoulder to stop him.

“On the house.” Dean holds it out and just like before their fingers touch, burning him.

“No, Dean, I couldn’t.”

Dean shakes his head to stop him from arguing any further. He jumped back on his bike and looked back at Cas as he said, “You can get me something later. Is seven okay?”

“Seven is…perfecto.” Cas flinched at his Spanish, but Dean couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Pues, te miro mas tarde, Angelito.” Dean reached to pat Cas’s cheek before he started pedaling away.

“Dean! I don’t know what that means!” Cas calls out to him.

Dean doesn’t turn around to respond, mostly to hide the stupid shit-eating grin he had on his face. “I said I’ll see you later!” But he does wave goodbye, ringing the bell as he goes.

Dean really liked him, and it brought fear into his heart pero al mismo tiempo; he hasn’t been this excited to just be around someone in such a long time. So maybe this is his time to accept that maybe, for sure, he is crushing hard on a guy.

Dean sighs as he stops on the sidewalk to hang his head and quietly whispers, “For fucks sakes, soy un pinche gay.”

Well, at least he can admit to himself—sort of.

[anythingforspence]

the capstone - chapter one

Summary: Reader is a semester away from getting her masters in Psychology and duringher last semester she has to complete her capstone, or passion project if you will. This year, the professors decided that each student will be personally mentored by a psycologyst in distinct fields. When Y/N meets hers, she can’t decide whether she is lucky or if it will be a long 5 months.

Pairing: Female reader x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.8 k

Chapter warning: harsh language, sexy talk, no smut yet

A/N: omg tysm for all of the love on the teaser post. i hope i dont dissapoint.

Although I’m wide awake, I let my alarm clock keep beeping and beeping and beeping as I stare up at the white ceiling of my cheap studio apartment. My neighbor woke me up bright and early this morning by doing what sounded like lugging a dead body throughout his apartment. I lifted my head slightly just to slam it back against my bed, whining about being awake at 5:30 am. I’m probably just nervous. I have to complete this passion project for my psychology class by being mentored by a famous psychologist and write a paper about their career and their wisdom I guess. I have a meeting with my mentor today and I don’t know what to expect. My professor kept the identity of our mentors a secret. For the “excitement” and whatnot.

With a sigh, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and bend over to switch off the alarm. Resting my elbows on my knees, I run my hands down my face, basically prepping myself for the fact that I have to stand up soon. The moment I stand, I stretch all throughout my body, ending with my hands high above my head, stretching into the ceiling. My mouth getting ready to yawn when a bang was heard next door, like a book being chucked against the wall ajoined with my neighbors apartment causing me to yelp. I’m pretty sure I heard a chuckle in response to my scream. I glared at the wall, thinking of all the ways I could storm in there and punch my neighbor. I had two choices. I could storm in there and do all the things I wish I could do, or I could mind my business and get ready for the day.

Rolling my eyes I decided to just get ready. I still wanted payback, however, I blasted Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by The Smiths as I head into the showe. I grab brown trousers, a white button up, and a sage green set of lace undergarments. Not that anyone would see them, unfortunately there has been a drought of sorts in my pants. I just wear them for the aesthetic. Getting undressed, I put on my favorite playlist with all of the songs that make me feel like I’m the main character in an indie film. I heard a light tapping at my door, like some wanted my attention but at the same time wished I never paid attention to them. I decided to ignore it and step under the stream of water in my shower.

Once I was all finished with my shower, I stepped out into my foggy bathroom. Singing along to Bug Collector by Haley Heynderickx, I start drying off and slip on my outfit for the day. I keep my hair in a towel to help it dry some so I don’t have to use any heat on my hair. For my makeup I decided to go for a red lip, neutral blush, mascara, and brows today. Something simple and professional. I let my hair out of the towel and brush it out, not doing too much to it. Blowing myself a kiss in the mirror, I grab my purse and wrap my student ID around my neck, letting it fall next to the golden flower chained to my neck.When I open the door, I laugh in shock at the note my neighbor left for me.“nice taste in music”

I felt something against my leg and knew exactly who it was. “Hi, Payton,” I sweetly spoke to the Sphynx cat at my feet. I named her Payton even though she’s not technically mine and just wanders through the apartment complex. I bend down to give her scratches at her neck. “How’s my cutie patootie. Did you see the asshole who left this not?” She just tilted her head more into my hand, telling me to keep on scratching. “Guess not.” I stand back up and check the time on my watch, “Shit”. I had five minutes to get there.

-----

A bell rang as I entered the coffee shop I was supposed to meet my mentor at, of course with my favorite mask on. My eyes scan the place a little before I walk up to the counter to order my favorite drink. “Hi can I just get a 16 ounce Earl Grey, please?” The barista said something along the lines of yes of course and how my total was 2.16. “Alrighty, thank you.” It didn’t take too long for it to be done. They weren’t very busy and it’s just a tea bag and hot water.

“Excuse me, are you Y/F/N Y/L/N?” 

Woah. His voice sent a tingle down my spine. Probably just because I haven’t had much human contact or the fact that I haven’t been laid in a while but, my god, what I would give for him to say my name again. But that was nothing compared to what I saw when I turned around. I’m just glad I was wearing a mask so he didn’t the way my lips parted when my eyes met his. He had curly brown hair and he dressed like an old man, doesn’t sound like much but for me, that’s everything. Oh my gosh, and he had nerdy little cute glasses? When I realized I was staring I averted my eyes and started blushing.

“Um, yes, hi, that’s my name. I’m so sorry, but what’s your name?” The tremor in my voice made me want to just drop dead. I’m a woman of science but if the Earth knew how to open up and swallow people, now would be the time to prove it.

“Oh hi. I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m your psychology mentor. Did your professor not tell you?” He seemed so confused, oh my god he’s so cute.

“Oh. Oh my God I’m so sorry! My professor didn’t let us know who was mentoring us, just in case we did prior research or something. I’m sorry. But yes um I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” I kept on rambling, looking anywhere but his eyes. Unfortunately, it made me look like I was checking him out. Oh fuck.

Chuckling a bit, he goes, “Oh no your fine. No need to apalogize. It’s a pleasure to meet you miss Y/N.” Not going to lie, the way he said my name sent tingles to my pussy. Oh my god what is wrong with me! I can’t be thinking these things about the person who is going to mentor me! Stop being so horny.

I started to blush and I cleared my throat and gestured towards the window. “Um, should we go sit out there?”

“Oh yes of course. Please after you,” he said, his hand finding the small of my back, hitching my breath and making me nervously mess with the rings on my fingers. We sat at the iron tables outside of the coffee shop, he pulled my chair open for me, finally his hands off of me. I felt like I could breathe again but at the same time I felt sad, empty. He took off his mask to take a sip of what he was drinking and holy shit. He had some scruff and his lips just looked so inviting. I wanted to distract from the silence that was biting at me. “So, uh, what do you do?” My voice trailing off, making everything so much heavier with awkwardness and the sexual tension that was just coming from me.

“What do you mean what do I do?” Fuck. I looked so stupid of course he does something in pschology. That’s the whole reason you’re here.

“W-well, um, like what specific area do you work in?”

“I do criminal profiling with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” My eyebrows bunch together in confusion. What does that have to do with psychology? Almost as if he’s reading my mind he continues, “We psycho analyze crime scenes, victims, bodies to understand why a criminal would do what they did, which helps us to understand the type of person they are, their background, and it leads us to the criminal, or unsub.”

“Wow that’s actually really cool. But, like, how does that all work?”

“Tell me, Y/N, when was the last time you had sex?” I didn’t say anything. I was so shocked. First off, how inappropriate, but also how did he know? “When I first walked in, you kept on looking me up and down as if you’ve never seen a man before. You keep fidgeting with your rings. Usually new jewelry makes people fidget but the stains on your fingers suggest you wear rings frequently which means you're nervous. Also ever since I’ve taken my mask offyou haven’t stopped staring at my lips. So, sweet girl, tell me when was the last time you were satisfied?”

I just sat there, gapping at him like a fish out of water. What was I supposed to say? Why thank you for asking, although the last time I’ve had sex was a year ago but the last time I’ve orgasmed has been longer? Before I could come up with an answer he got a phone call. Someone named Morgan needed him or something. Whatever it was, it seemed urgent.“Sorry our meeting got cut short, Y/N. Very important FBI business came up. Here is my card, has my name, email and phone number. I recommend calling me because I don’t usually check my emails or my texts. Your professor already gave me your contact information so I know how to find you. I am very excited for the upcoming months.”

“Oh- uh, thank you,” I whispered, still shocked. He grabs my hand so that he can hand me my card since I haven’t moved a muscle. 

“Oh and Y/N?” My head wips up at him and I let out a “hmm?” that could be mistaken for a moan. “Green is a nice color on you.” Confused, I looked down to see my button up shirt had popped open, letting my green covered tits be seen by the world. Eyes blown open, I immediately cover myself and say a thank you that sounded so embarrassing because my voice cracked. He just chucked and told me he would contact me soon. Before he left, I could’ve sworn he looked at me as if I was a sexy hollywood actress or something. But I brushed it off. Maybe he was concerned for me. After all, I had my tits out and made it obvious that I was desperately horny. God these five months will be awful if I keep thinking about Dr. Reid as a sex partner than a mentor. Then again the concept of having sex with your mentor can be hot. Nope. No. I should stop there.

[miracle-sham]

Die Like the Butterfly Shoot With Their Guns.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 2, Day 7: Guns} |

Chapter 1 of Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame.

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] | | [Chapter 2] |

———

| Sometimes a family can be a gang comprised of eleven vigilantes, and their AI robot, fighting against the father of one of their own. |

| Or alternatively: after falling through the cracks, they do what they must to survive. And if that means committing crimes in order to bring down the Big Butterfly and all the other corrupt businesses in the city, then so be it. |

———

| Tonight's the night. Half of them will strike one of the Big Butterfly's warehouses that just so happens to contain some fancy new gun tech. Besides, it'll be in better hands with them than the Big Butterfly or his associates. Now all that matters, is that nothing goes wrong! |

| Word Count: 3,322. |

| Warnings/Tags: Cyberpunk/Criminal/Gang Au, Explicit Language/Swearing, Hacking, Breaking and Entering, Theft, Mentions of Bombs and Guns, Mentions of corrupt/shady businesses, Fluff, Gang/Team as family/family dynamics, Found Family. |

———

| A/N: It is Cyberpunk Au time! This is a twoshot, so have a looksy to see if you can find all the snippets of foreshadowing I've set! Also this is mostly Action/Fluff but beware of the warnings regardless. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Rain patters against the concrete, sound mixing with the low hum and high buzz of electricity. The ground is slick with murky puddles that never seem to clean the pavement. Still just as filthy as before, permanently dyed with dried bloodstains, mud stains, electric scorch marks, and far worse. The air is heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke, ozone, and that ever underlying decay that clings to the city.

It's dark—dead of night—but the streets are awash with flickering neon lights. There are a few others haunting the street though most of them are sticking to the areas of light, avoiding the shadows.

Which is where Marinette, also known as the ruthless gang leader Fantôminou, is lurking.

Jason—Red Hood, her co-leader—snarls as he drops down onto the shadowed fire escape beside her. “We've got a rat. Someone's tipped off the big Butterfly and security has been increased around the perimeter. Most likely interior security increased too.”

Fantôminou flexes her glowing clawed gauntlets, “I suppose we should check in with our local pied piper, before we strike, hmm?”

There's a bzzt in her earpiece as the channel is hijacked by the familiar voice of their gang's hacker, Max aka Raijack. “I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, our pied piper has already been contacted. Whoever they were, they didn't reveal which location we were targeting, so it's just a general security increase.”

She hums. “Raijack, link us up with the rest of the strike force.”

“Got it, 'Minou.” He responds, and not a split second later, the earpiece makes another bzzt and there's the faint ping of the rest of the channel being alerted at someone joining.

“Look, I think you could totally pull off the—oh, who just joined the channel?” Adrien, Cheval Mallet, asks in surprise.

“Just me and our anthill tiger.” Red Hood announces, snorting at the glare Fantôminou sends him.

Silence echoes across the line before a scrabble of hushed but excited voices causes a ruckus.

Fantôminou sighs, “I know we're all excited to hit the big Butterfly hard by stealing some of their new fancy gun tech. But let's leave the yelling for when we inevitably set off the alarms!”

“Hey!” Raijack protests. “I'll have you know I have produced a new virus that has a ninety-eight per cent chance of not setting off any alarms!”

Red Hood rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but you've still not worked out how to get your viruses to deactivate the bombs in the crates yet, huh?”

“I will one day, until then it's your job to stop the bombs from triggering the rest of the alarms!” Raijack counters with a huff.

Fantôminou sighs again, this time with an added sprinkling of are-you-kidding-me. “Red Hood, Raijack. I can and will kick your asses if you do not shut up so we can discuss final prep before we begin the pesticide protocol.”

Bumping shoulders with her, Red Hood snorts again. “I've got nothing against being beat up by someone as pretty and buff as you Minou, you know that!”

“Oh, I think we can all agree to wanting to get crushed by Minou's guns.” Cheval Mallet pipes up once more.

Fantôminou sighs very wearily. “Nevermind, are you all ready?”

Red Hood salutes at her, and despite his mouth being covered, it's easily telling that he's grinning cockily underneath. “I'm ready. My guns are ready, and I've got the bomb defusal kit at the ready.”

“I may be holding my horses but I'm saddled to giddy-up on the go!” Cheval Mallet cheerfully announces.

“This has to be one of your worst attempts at horse puns yet.” Raijack comments, “otherwise, I'm in position and ready to hack on your call, Minou.”

Red Hood exchanges a glance with Fantôminou as silence falls over the earpiece channel. “Hold up, where's Arsenal? Shouldn't he have checked in by now?”

Taking his hand gently, Fantôminou gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“He already did but because you two had your issues getting into position and avoiding the unexpected police patrol, Arsenal had to deal with another issue that popped up which would've threatened our plan,” Raijack informs, sounding nonplussed.

“Well, you don't sound concerned.” Fantôminou points out the obvious. “Has he got back up?”

There's the faint tapping of a keyboard through the earpiece channel before Raijack responds, “Chèvrapide is on her way to back him up, don't worry.”

“Then that's everyone accounted for. Let's rock and roll.” Red Hood orders, dropping from the fire escape and landing in the rain-slick alleyway with ease, conveniently right beside the hoverbike they had stashed here.

Fantôminou hops down after him, except she manages to flip and expertly land in the driver's seat. “I'm driving Jay, you're the one with the guns after all,” she all but states, putting one gauntleted hand up and flexing just to hammer in the point, “I'm close range only right now and you know it.”

Red Hood throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey! I'd never complain about getting to watch you drive this beauty of a hoverbike.”

Fantôminou snorts. “Just get on, pretty bird!”

“Well, if you say so, pretty kitty!” Red Hood teases back, vaulting onto the back of the bike behind her. He wraps an arm around her waist and rests the other hand on his sheathed-for-now gun.

She revs the engine of the hoverbike and steers out of the alleyway with practised ease. There's no directions on the hoverbike's holoscreen, but it's not like they need any—the directions to where they need to be outside the warehouse have already been memorised by each and every one of them.”

Down the left street, take the right at the T junction, pass under the flyover street, then take a further two lefts and then straight on until the block of office buildings forming a protective extra layer between the warehouse electric razor wire tipped fencing and the road. Easy.

“All networks in the office buildings have temporarily shut down. As far as the tech will be concerned, it'll look like the networks just decided to not work today.” Raijack announces through the earpiece channel, voice coming through slightly more robotic than usual.

“So no security cams?” Fantôminou checks cautiously, circling like a hawk around the small stretch of street between her and the office building she and Jason will be entering through. The rain has slowed to a drizzle but that doesn't make the circling in it any less mildly uncomfortable, at least inside it'll be dry.

There's the familiar clack of keys once more. “Not quite, they're a little harder to crack than entering in through the backdoor via someone's unprotected webcam in the office. Thank you, Shodan.” Raijack pauses, keys continuing to clack in the background. “Unfortunately, the Big Butterfly's got tech security smart enough to keep the security system on a closed network so I can't hop from webcam to computer to network to cams. However, they didn't account for Markov, suckers!”

Red Hood snorts. “Isn't Markov a little obvious for this kinda mission?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Raijack says, in a voice that very clearly conveys he didn't forget so much as purposefully neglected to mention, “I recently upgraded Markov, outfitting him with the currently most highly advanced cloaking system. Thanks to some help from Fantôminou's knowledge of cloaking and camouflage fashion.”

Red Hood leans his head onto Fantôminou's shoulder. “I'm hurt, you knew and didn't tell me? I want cloaking guns! Think of how much cooler I'd look with them!”

Fantôminou merely hums in an unamused response. “Raijack wanted it to be a surprise.”

He huffs. “I see who your favourite person in our gang is then!”

“You're right! It's me!” Cheval Mallet cheers, jumping into the conversation.

“Fucking 'ell!” Red Hood curses under his breath. “I thought you were gonna mute whilst getting in position.”

Cheval Mallet's laugh cuts in and out across the earpiece channel. “And when did I hay that!”

“Hacker voice, I'm in!” Raijack interrupts. “Looks like the security system was perfectly untouched by whatever minor error caused the main networks to crash, how lucky. Which is to say, looping is in process, and we now have free entry.”

“Got us a place to park yet, though?” Red Hood asks.

Raijack doesn't immediately respond, but the sound of the garage door connected to the office building opening, is answer enough. “I might.”

Fantôminou snorts. “Thanks, Raijack. Hood and I need to split here right, just until we get past the fencing right?”

“That's right.” Raijack responds, “good luck, and Markov and I will see you all on the other side.”

“Break a leg, or three!” Red Hood calls over the earpiece. “Preferably some else's though!”

Fantôminou pulls the hoverbike into the garage, keeping her gaze ahead. “If I could elbow you without fucking up my parking, I would.”

Red Hood cackles quietly in response, trying to at least keep to the stealth part of the mission plan.

In the blink of an eye, the hoverbike is securely parked. Perfectly hidden in plain sight but easily accessible for a quick and clean getaway should nothing go wrong. And well, if something were to go wrong, there's not going to be any hoverbike left for evidence. Though, that's not to say a small part of Fantôminou's brain doesn't anxiously hate how they're practically sitting on top of bombs ready to blow up at the slightest hint of things going wrong. However, they've been through enough strikes like this for the concern to be mostly easily ignored.

———

With the hoverbike parked, Fantôminou and Red Hood part ways.

Fantôminou heads up through the internal stairwell connected to the garage, whilst Red Hood takes one of the external doors leading to the office building next door.

The stairwell is like any other maintenance stairwell. Grey concrete walls, metal railings and steps. Even Fantôminou's light footsteps clang loudly against the ridged metal stairs. It's cold, just as cold as the garage was and barely warmer than it is outside in the rain. The air is stuffy but at least the respirator hidden beneath the bandana wrapped around her mouth makes it bearable to breathe. Other than the aforementioned clanging of steps, and her breathing, Fantôminou is alone with the ominous silence of a liminal space.

The stairs stretch on upwards for what seems far longer than it should, but eventually, Fantôminou reaches the final steps to the roof entrance door.

The door is unlocked, and so Fantôminou opens it as quietly as possible. She walks out into the rain once more and scrunches up her nose. A quick glance of the roof yields no immediate signs of danger or anything of note, so she continues to the edge of the roof.

Fantôminou rests one foot on the lip of the roof and flexes her gauntlets, lights switching off for stealth. Carefully, she turns around and crouches on the lip, gauntlets gripping the edge and toes of her boots braced against the wall. Bit by bit she descends, gauntlets making it more than easy to stay attached to the wall.

Two-thirds of the way down, Fantôminou climbs onto a window sill. The fence is only a metre below, with a further four-metre drop. No security drones in sight, yet—but no alarms have been triggered yet either.

A shadow drops down the building and over the fence on the other side of the compound. Not a second later is the double buzz of the earpiece signalling that someone is in position.

Fantôminou smirks beneath her face coverings, not one to be so quickly outdone she leaps forwards in a dive—spinning midair as she begins to plummet. Clearing the razor wire fence with room to spare.

She hits the ground in another diving roll, and immediately uses the momentum to throw herself up and run towards the nearest warehouse building. As soon as she reaches the wall, she double-taps her earpiece to send the double buzz signal to others.

A moment later comes the third double buzz, soon followed by the fourth and final signal.

“Markov is covering our air support.” Raijack's voice clips across the earpiece channel, “Fantôminou, you and Red Hood are on opposite ends of the same warehouse. I've unlocked the doors for you. You know the drill.”

“Thank you, Raijack. Entering now.” Fantôminou responds, she slinks over to the warehouse doors and cautiously pries open the now unlocked door.

Fantôminou heads straight for the terminal, and knows Red Hood is doing the same. Slipping Raijack's new and improved virus into one of the terminal's ports. Seconds pass.

“Interface secured,” Raijack informs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Red Hood prowling over to her. She nods to him and taps into the terminal with her gauntlet.

Red Hood readies his bomb defusal kit as she instructs the internal warehouse drones into delivering the goods to them.

The drone, blinking yellow—a sure sign of Raijack's virus in effect—hovers over and drops a large black cased crate before them.

As soon as the claws of the drone release the crate, Red Hood is immediately on it, pulling it open and weeding out the bomb.

They wait with bated breath. Red Hood tinkers away. The earpiece channel is silent as the team focuses.

He hisses through his teeth, and Fantôminou tenses—ready to grab him and run, in the worst case—but he only packs the kit back away and sighs in relief.

He taps the earpiece thrice—signalling success.

Raijack and Cheval Mallet don't respond, so Fantôminou and Red Hood stuff their haul into Fantôminou's Miraculous, for ease of transport, and begin making their way towards the warehouse the other two were hitting.

By the time they reach the nearest warehouse doors, the earpiece triple buzzes. Success, again.

They pause only to exchange a nod between the two before continuing to meet up with Cheval Mallet and Raijack—no rendezvous needed this time so far.

It takes forty seconds to cross halfway to the other warehouse, where they meet the other two along with Markov in the middle.

Cheval Mallet waves a hand and the five of them skulk over to a small shed off the side of another warehouse. He raises his horseshoe weapon and calls out, “Bon Voyage!”

The portal forms and Markov flies through first. The remaining four exchange glances then bolt forwards, racing to see who can get through first.

The blue light blinds them all for a second, despite how used to the power they are.

“Mission success!” Fantôminou cheers breathlessly once the blue fades, throwing her hands up in celebration.

“WOOH!” Cheval Mallet yells, jumping up and punching the air.

Red Hood snorts, “but more importantly I so won!”

Raijack hums, “let's see what Markov has to say about that.”

Markov makes a series of boops and beeps, yellow LEDs flickering. “Red Hood is correct, he won the portal race.”

“YES!” Red Hood crows.

“Oh come on!” Raijack grumbles.

Footsteps and clapping approaches. “Well done,” Félix praises, “but perhaps leave the celebration until after you've all gotten into jammies.”

Cheval Mallet giggles, “Flicks, I can't believe you can somehow still sound pretentious whilst saying something as childish sounding as "jammies"!”

Félix raises an eyebrow, “you say this every time I call pyjamas that. Now come on, I've ordered pizza and Roy, Alix, Luka, Artemis, Kori, and Bizarro are already waiting for you lot, in the lounge, so we can get the party started.” He turns on his heel and walks out of the utility-changing room.

Markov, as the only one not needing to change, shows the tongue-sticking-out emoji on his LED screen and zooms after Félix.

Jason, Marinette, Adrien, and Max all start changing out of their gear as quickly as possible.

“Oh no!” Adrien gasps, half undressed, suddenly remembering something. “We forgot to take the motorbikes back!”

Marinette groans, “I knew I was forgetting something!"

Facepalming, Jason sighs. “We were all too caught up in everything going well for once.”

Max snorts. “Oh don't worry! I anticipated this, all it took was a little hacking into our hoverbikes and now they're on autopilot to one of our empty storage bases.”

“Oh. Well, that's good then.” Adrien says, looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah… anyway come on, we don't want to keep your cousin and the others waiting any longer! They'll eat all the pizza!” Marinette exclaims.

They all finish changing into loungewear and pyjamas just as music starts to play from the lounge and so frantically, they all dash towards it, trying to shove each other out of the way and laughing playfully as they do so.

They've won a battle, they've successfully gotten in and out with a good haul of gun tech. No alarms tripped, nothing went wrong. Hoverbikes undamaged and on the route home. For once, everything went smoothly. And that, is cause for an evening of celebration.

Leaving the worries of the rat for tomorrow.

———

In a dark observatory with a closed butterfly window, a folder is tossed across a desk.

Papillon glances down at the folder with indifference. He rests his elbows on the expensive polished wood and steeples his fingers. “You said you had acquired information that you believe will interest me?”

The man in a black suit sitting opposite Papillon, smiles patiently. “My informant went through quite the lengths to acquire this. Why not take a look inside.”

Papillon purses his lips, “this better not be a waste of my precious time, Lex.”

Lex Luthor raises an eyebrow in amusement. “I assure you, Gabriel, you will find what is inside most interesting.”

There's a moment's pause as Gabriel waits. Nothing happens. He nods and then opens the folder. He spreads the papers inside in arc across the desk. In the middle of the papers, is the photo of a smiling teenage girl with bright blue eyes, and blue-dyed hair. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” He reads out, lips curling into a contemplative frown.

“Poor little girl,” Lex croons mockingly, “missing—presumed dead—after her parents' bakery was destroyed in an Akuma attack. Her name should be familiar to you though, won your one-day derby hat competition at her school.”

Gabriel's fingers still mid-steeple, and he moves one hand up to his chin in thought. “Ah yes, I remember that designer. The one with the feather derby whose design was stolen and copied. That signature embroidery was impressive work.” He recounts.

Lex grins, “yes, however most distressingly, it would seem this up and coming star of a designer has lost her glow.”

“How so?” Gabriel responds, furrowing his brows.

“Well you see, my informant has found… evidence, that our poor little designer here fell through the cracks into the shadows after the loss of her parents and bakery. It's rather obvious that the larvae have taken her as their own, some of their masks and clothes fit perfectly with what we know of her unique incorporation of her signature, as well as stitch work.” Lex explains, waving a hand towards the rest of the photographs and documents spread from the folder.

Gabriel frowns and eyes a few of the other papers with interest. “I see, that is most unfortunate.”

“But.” Lex cuts in before Gabriel can say anything more. “I'm well aware you're plenty familiar with fixing larvae with damaged wings and frayed wires. As such, a strange little cold case brimming with potential for your program, would do quite nicely for your collection, wouldn't you say?” Lex insinuates, rising from his seat as he continues, “rescue the poor larvae, craft it a chrysalis, and nurture the Pupa into something radiant. Not unlike what you did with the Macrothylacia Rubi, and your replacement wife.” With that, Lex smiles smugly down at Gabriel and then strides out of the observatory, not giving Gabriel a chance to respond.

And leaving Papillon to the folder and his musings.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Behind the Names: Fantôminou is a portmanteau of Fantôme (Ghost/Phantom) and Minou (Kitty). And she's called that because I thought the Black Footed cat fit her, and they're nicknamed Anthill Tigers. They also have the highest successful hunting rate! |

| Raijack is a portmanteau of Raiju (lightning dragon) and jack plug (the connect-y bit on headphones into a phone for example) but is also a play on the word Hijack. |

| Cheval Mallet is an evil horse spirit that offers rides to weary travellers and kidnaps them. Yes, there is a reason behind this. It's covered in Chap 2 |

| Chèvrapide is a portmanteau of Chèvre (Goat) and Rapide (Fast). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Domestic Ship Meme: Lucifer/MC

[Domestic Ship Meme]

Notes: GN! ‘you’, fluff!!!! Lucifer really b living in my head rent free

--

who reaches out to new neighbors

Between the two of you, it’s gonna have to be you. Unless Lucifer somehow has something to gain from being friendly with the neighbors, he’s not that motivated to make an impression. And if you aren’t really up for it, he doesn’t mind either. The two of you can be content with just an occasional wave and small talk with the neighbor when you chance upon meeting them. If you’re really eager to reach out to the neighbors… cool. He’ll come with and greet them if you want him to. 

who remembers to buy healthy food

Lucifer cares a lot about the fact you get your proper nutrients, especially when you don’t. 

“MC, you can’t persist on cup noodles every night when I come home late.” Insists on buying vegetables so you can at least put them in your ramen to get vitamins to live if you don’t want to cook. He makes it a habit to have a balanced meal every time. 

If you’re as health conscious as he is, you make sure to pack lunch for the both of you before you go about your day. :)

who remembers to buy junk food

YOU DO, BABY! 

Every time you go shopping for groceries with him, you both pick out produce and everything you need for meal preps, but you always backtrack to grab bags of chips or candy that catches your attention. He watches you with mild exasperation as you scrutinize whether to grab the salsa or the guacamole for the chips and end up just getting both. 

He grumbles a little less if you slip in a bag of his favorite snack though. (A bag of licorice mayhaps?) 

who fixes the oven when it breaks

Both of you are capable of learning how to fix the oven when it breaks. It probably does end up being a joint effort regardless. As to whoever BROKE the oven, it’s probably Lucifer. Baking is his weakness; he doesn’t understand why. 

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

You water the plants and Lucifer feeds the pet(s). You will always have Cerberus-- always. Whether you have more is really up to your and his discretion, but he’s pretty on top of making sure Cerberus has his food every morning before he leaves. He could water the plants too, if you wanted him to, but he thinks it’s cute to come home to you watering the hydrangeas at the front door or the succulents at the windowsill. It gives you a very nurturing vibe, even if you don’t mean to, and it makes him feel a little soft every time. 

who wakes up earlier

Lucifer does. This really depends on what job/occupation you currently have, but for the most part, he wakes up at the crack of dawn naturally anyways. Doesn’t matter when he sleeps, his internal clock is set for ‘when the sun rises’ (which is funny, considering how the Devildom doesn’t have a sun). 

You think it’s horrible until you realize he can choose to sleep in when he wants to, but Lucifer honestly doesn’t mind. He likes waking up early so he can press kisses onto your forehead, careful not to wake you up but laughing under his breath if you stir and mumble in your sleep. He’s absolutely besotted with you, and it really shows in the way he holds you in the moments before he starts the day. 

who makes the bed

You do, mostly because you wake up later than he does… and because he doesn’t like it when the bed isn’t made. 

“Why make the bed when we’re going to end up sleeping in it anyways?”

“Yes, why wash Cerberus if he’s going to get dirty again.”

“3:” 

Just make the bed. He’s ridiculously pleased when he comes back home to a neat bed, especially if you were not in the habit to do so before. If you weren’t really happy to do it before, he says “please~?” in a way you swear you fucking see sparkles in the background and you give up. (you are weak for the man)

who makes the coffee

(flashback to Hell’s Coffee chat)

Lucifer lives off of coffee, so more often than not, he ends up making the coffee. He also tends to wake up a LOT earlier than you, so the duty usually falls to him anyhow. If you drink coffee, always makes a cup for you before he leaves with the right amount of sugar and cream. 

On the day you’re both off, you tend to both sleep in, and therein the coffee making responsibility goes to you, because Lucifer certainly isn’t going to get out of bed any time soon. You tried making coffee for him on a work day, which basically meant you tried to wake up EARLIER than him. Not the best idea you had, but when he found you asleep on the dining table with the coffee made hot, best believe he pressed a kiss onto your forehead and said ‘thank you’ before sending you back to bed. 

who burns breakfast

Assuming both of you are decent at cooking, you’re more likely to burn the breakfast mainly because Lucifer doesn’t eat breakfast to begin with. 

“What happened to three balanced meals a day?”

“I never said ‘three,’ I just said they had to be balanced.” 

“>:(“ 

It’s his fault though. Every time you make breakfast, he distracts you by coming into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss on the back of your neck. Or, if it’s on a weekend, he tugs you back into bed and you forget about the bacon on the stove until it’s basically charcoal. 

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

Lucifer tries not to wake you up before you need to, so he’s usually silent when leaving the house. When you do stir awake and sleepily ask him if he’s heading off to work, he never fails to press a kiss to your cheek and say, “I’ll see you soon.” He’s always the most tender with you in the early light of the day, willing to indulge you a little if you tug him back into bed for a snuggle or press kisses onto your lips until you’re satiated. 

If the both of you are awake, he’ll say something along the lines of “I’m heading out to do something. I’ll be back in an hour,” and if you’re not busy, kisses you and leaves. 

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

“I’m home,” Lucifer says quietly, just in case you’re already asleep-- but you never are. He finds the kitchen light on with you sitting at the dining table with a book in hand, and you smile up at him when he walks through the door and places down his keys. 

“Welcome back,” you tell him, like every night. You tug off his jacket and press a kiss onto his lips as he tiredly gives you a smile. 

--

Rarely, you come home later than he does, but it happens. 

“Did you eat dinner yet?” Lucifer asks, once you set down the keys and shrug off your coat. “Or would you prefer a bath first?” 

“Did you learn that phrase from Levi?” You tease, watching him roll his eyes good naturedly as he stands from his chair and makes his way to you. “I don’t know,” you respond, as he snakes his hands around your waist. “Maybe a bath if you want to join me.”

His hands dip further down. “If you insist,” he says, dropping his head until he trails his lips along your neck. 

The both of you pause at the sound of your stomach growling. 

You look sheepishly at him as he gives you an amused quip of his lips. “Maybe…” You suggest hopefully, “Dinner in the bath?” 

Lucifer throws his head back and laughs.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

With Lucifer, romance is never dead. If something catches his eye on the way back from work, he has no problems taking a quick stop and buying a bouquet from the florist so you can decorate the house with it or add another succulent to your collection. His gifts always mean he thought of you-- would you like this necklace? Didn’t you say you needed another pen the other day? How much chocolate is too much for a gift? (it’s never too much luci)

However, you refuse to be beat. You throw him a reverse uno card and buy him small gifts or trinkets that catch your eye and think he’d enjoy it. There’s not a lot he actually wants, so your gifts are more fun, something to make him laugh throughout the day or remind him of you. He brings a lot of the trinkets to work with him and look at them

who picks the movie for movie night

Both of you switch off on choosing a movie. He’s not that picky with movies. If it’s horror movies you want to watch, he’ll be there for you to hide behind. If it’s a rom-com you want to watch, expect a few chuckles from him. 

their favorite kind of movie to watch

Lucifer likes watching the classics and prefers new movies that are thought-provoking. Thrillers or psychological movies like Black Mirror or Annihilation are very fascinating to him. He’s impartial to most genres, though, unless it’s completely and utterly inane. He prefers movies with some thought or some emotion-evoking aspect to it-- SUBSTANCE. 

who first suggests a pillow fort + who builds the pillow fort

You suggest it and drag Lucifer into building the pillow fort with you. He thinks he enables you too much; you agree with him.

“Who did you get this idea from? Mammon?”

“No, of course not! I got it from my six-year old niece.”

“...”

Still, you end up in the pillow fort, covering it with a blanket and end up eating snacks and napping together in it. 

You don’t see him complaining about it afterwards. 

who tries to distract the other during the move

Lucifer allllll the way. The man loves to tease you whenever he has the chance, so if he’s in the mood, would definitely try to distract you by placing his hand on your thigh and just subtly tracing his hands over them. Acts innocent when you scold him, but continues to do lingering touches on your thighs, waist, neck until you either give in and be completely distracted by him. He knows when to stop though, like if you’re actually very interested in the movie or aren’t in the mood.  

who falls asleep first

Lucifer does if the both of you go to bed at the same time. Tired during the day, he knocks out pretty much immediately if he lets himself relax in your arms and in your presence. Which is fine by you. If Lucifer had a ritual to take a moment to cherish you in the early hours of the day, you take the time in the moments before you sleep to kiss his brow and sweep his hair from his eyes, whispering ‘I love you’s’ against his temple in the quiet hours of the night. 

who is big spoon/little spoon

Lucifer likes being a big spoon, of course, but you ALSO like being HIS big spoon, so it’s a trade-off. You enjoy being in his arms and being the little spoon: you feel protected, his arms around you, his head either on top of your or his nose buried in your hair. Being a big spoon lets YOU do that to him! 

Usually, you sleep on his shoulder, or you sleep facing each other. You really let the night decide whether you end up big or small spoon, but you tend to end up small spoon naturally. Sometimes, when you wake up in the middle of night, you turn to make him big spoon, and he gets a little embarrassed when he wakes up like this (but again, no complaints here! <3).

[inkandpen22]

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (2/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fighting, mentions of violence

Word Count: ~2.6k

Part Summary: Y/N is starting to get used to her role in the Summers’ house and with the Scoobies in the days following her arrival in Sunnydale. Much to her surprise, she enjoys predictability of her new routine and the normalcy of it. That is until a troublesome figure in Sunnydale makes his acquaintance and knocks Y/N through an unforeseen loop.

Masterlist

Aunt Joyce being surprised to see me is an understatement. It took Buffy and I both pressing her back down on the hospital bed to keep her from leaping up. Then, she thanked me up and down for coming. Which lead to her insisting she’s fine. She’s been covering at the hospital the last few days, but now she’s finally home. Her surgery went well, thank God! With everything going on, Joyce needs to be well. I don’t think Buffy could take another blow and poor Dawnie needs her mom. I know what it’s like to lose a mother, not fun. It’s Buffy and I’s goal to keep life as normal as possible for Dawn. The routine is I drop Dawnie off at school while Buffy plays Slayer. Then, I come back here and take care of Joyce. From there, I pick up Dawnie and prep dinner. In truth, I’m liking the predictable schedule. It’s odd, I thought I’d hate it here. I’ve never been the sort for the mundane lifestyle, but I haven’t been around family in years and it’s nice. 

While I prepare lunch for Joyce, I listen to the rock station through the boombox they keep on the counter. The house has been rather quiet since Buffy and the other Scoobies have been out doing researching Glory. Giles’s Magic-Box shop is their headquarters. Well, here and there, sort of double at meeting spots. Whenever the house is this quiet, I have to have music or the tv playing in the background. Otherwise, everything gets all noisy. Sunnydale has so much pent up energy, both good and evil, that it messes with my head. All I hear are the voices in the silence, so many voices that it starts to sound like static. I have mentioned this Buffy, I wouldn’t want to stress her anymore. 

My peace is abruptly disturbed as the kitchen door swings open and someone flies in hiding under a blanket. I jump, dropping my knife on Joyce’s sandwich. Smoke radiates from the figure like they’re a walking fire pit. Tilting my head, I watch in awe as a bleached haired man struggles to shut the door, knocking around the blinds. Who the hell is he? He dramatically flails his arms around to get the blanket off with a huff. Instantly, I see the green aura glowing around him. His eyes meet mine with a tilt of the head like a confused puppy dog, granted I did it too. 

“Who in the bloody hell are you?” He curses sassily. 

His accent is enough information to tell me who he is, Spike. So, this is the pain in the ass, psychotic vampy who is tangled up in a love-hate relationship with my cousin. She’s all caught up on Riley, Mr. G.I. Joe, when she has this dude pining after her? Boy, Buffy needs my guidance in more than one department. 

“Good afternoon to you too, Spike,” I greet him by name, much to his surprise.

Cautiously, he moves into the kitchen as I continue about my business. “How do you know my name? Where’s Buffy?” He asks, peaking around the house for her. 

“Don’t worry,” I assure him calmly. “Army Barbie is with her team of misfit toys working on Glory stuff.” 

Before I have the chance to blink, Spike is across the room has me pinned against the fridge. His face scrunched and his fangs daunting. While gripping my neck until I can hardly breathe, he leans forward and presses his body to mine to keep in place. I struggle in his grip, clawing as his hands. “You’re Glory, aren’t you?! Hm?! Messing with me?! What did you do to Buffy?!” He shouts. 

“Spike,” I choke. “You have to-” I gasp for air as he squeezes tighter. 

As a psychic, every time I have skin to skin contact with someone I can enter their mind and memories. It’s like watching a montage of someone’s entire existence. The recipient relives the memories too at the same pace as me. This allows them to kick me out if they so wish, all they have to do is realize what’s going on. However, like being in a dream, it’s rare that they do. I have little control when it comes to entering, it’s like falling. If I wish to leave, it takes a kick, like waking up from a dream. I have to be terrified by a memory or experience immense pain, those are the usual triggers. 

The moment Spike touched me, he opened the gate for me to see, feel, and hear everything he ever has in the form of visions. I can feel my mind slipping and images begin to flash before my eyes like bursts of light. Then, my vision goes black... 

A woman in 19th century clothing stands before with big eyes and brown hair. She’s so beautiful.... Suddenly, a pain pierces my neck.

Next thing I know, I’m sat on an old blood soaked sofa with a dead woman in my lap, bleeding from the neck. I feel hungry for more. 

“My wicked, wicked, Willy,” Dru purrs, peering up at me from her position on the floor with longing eyes. I shove the body off of me and crawl to her. God, I love her. 

I jump through time, landing in the middle of a fight with a young Chinese woman who I recognize as the Slayer. I manage to grab her and bite her viciously. She mutters something in Chinese to me. 

“Sorry Love, I don’t speak Chinese,” I state, tossing her to the side. 

Then, on a subway trained with a later slayer. I’m on top of her, gripping her neck as I twist it, killing her. For good measure, I steal her leather coat. I’m quite fond of it. 

I hover over the most recent Slayer, and perhaps the most annoying one, Buffy Summers. I raise the plank of wood in my hands to kill her. Suddenly, I’m hit over the head and fall to the floor. 

With a jolt, I’m back in the present moment. “Jesus and Mary!” I yelp, the back of my head throbbing. What the hell did Joyce wack me with? Or should I say Spike. 

The vampire stands before me wide-eyed, confused by what just happened. Having had enough reminiscing, I press my hands around his that grip my neck and send a powerful shock, causing him to drop me to the floor. I cough as I catch my breath. God, I can see why Buffy doesn’t like him! Spike recovers quickly and picks me up by my hair. I scream at the surge of pain and dig my nails in his hands. Soon, I’m against the wall and I bump my head. 

“Where are they?!” He barks in my face. “Tell me or I’ll kill you!” 

“If I were Glory and I had taken Buffy, how would killing me help you find her?” I question his logic amongst the fighting. For being over a hundred years old, he’s not exactly wise. 

Spike growls, not finding humor in my mockery. I’m not exactly threatened by the big-bad-bleach-crazy ole chap with the winkley-vampy face. I could have him on his undead ass in two seconds if I wanted. 

“Spike!” Joyce’s voice interrupts our altercation. Both of us turn our attention to the archway to see my aunt standing there in horror. She wraps her robe around herself tightly. “Let Y/N down! She’s my niece!” 

“Oh bollocks!” Spike swears, releasing me instantly. 

I fall to the floor on my knees again. Well, this fun- what’s wrong with people in this town?! 

“I… uh…” Spike stumbles over his words as he helps me up by the bicep. He brushes down my shirt and hair nervously. “Sorry about that. I thought-” 

“You thought I was Glory,” I finish for him, slapping his hands off of me. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?!” Joyce checks worriedly, staying cautiously in the archway between here and the living room. 

I hum, reaching up and running my fingers through the back of my head for any bumps or bleeding. Whatever she hit Spike with it fucking hurt! 

“Did I hurt you?” Spike asks, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“Not really,” I admit quietly and look to my aunt who’s the real reason my head is pounding. “If you ever hearing banging like that, never come downstairs! You hide!” I command of her. “Even if it did sound like I was getting murdered,” I grumble, glaring at Spike. 

“Well, as long as you’re alright. I’ll head back up,” she complies quietly. “But only if you’re sure!” She checks. 

“I’m fine, really!” I try to ease her nerves. It’s not good for her to worry. I shove Spike out of the way to approach her. “I’ll bring your food up soon. I might have to remake it,” I tell her as I spot her sandwich on the floor behind Spike. 

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists. 

“It’s okay! If you can wait one moment, I’ll just use some magic,” I announce, holding out my hand toward the counter. I conjure up a turkey sandwich just like I created before. I could’ve whipped one up this way earlier, but I was enjoying the task. “There you go!” I hand the plate over to my aunt. 

Spike blinks rapidly, stepping forward to stand beside my aunt. He stares at me in astonishment, “you’re a witch?!” 

“No, that shock you felt earlier was all in your head,” I sass, looking at him like an idiot. 

“You didn’t tell me there were witches in your family,” he says to Joyce, sounding offended. 

“We didn’t know ourselves until Y/N arrived a few days ago. She’s here to help out until I’m all better and… well…” Joyce shifts on her feet uncomfortably. “That Glory girl is gone.”

On that note, Joyce thanks me one last time and heads back upstairs. I relax once I hear her shuffling upstairs in her room. Taking a scan around the kitchen, there are broken plates and food scattered across the floor. I was so far into Spike’s head that I missed the reality and all the ruckus. Of course, I felt his hands around my neck, but my vision was impaired with his memories. 

“Let me clean up,” Spike requests, already squatting to pick up the bits of broken porcelain on the tile. 

“No need,” I state with a flick of the wrist. Within seconds, all the broken plates and scattered food is gone. The boombox that we’d knocked on the floor and caused to skip is now all fixed neatly on the counter. Soon, Nirvana is coming out of it without a problem. 

Spike rises from his position quietly starring at the perfectly spotless kitchen. I move around him toward the living room, already thinking of the next item on my agenda. I still have a few loads of laundry to go through and there’s cleaning that needs to be done. If I set those going with some magic before I head out everything will be done before Buffy’s birthday party tonight. Except, one issue, in this town, I don’t feel comfortable dividing up my power in case of an emergency. I could be attacked on the way to Dawnie’s school with the track record of this town. Plus, I’m Joyce’s sole bodyguard during the day, I need all my energy. 

“Hey wait,” Spike calls as he jogs to block my path. He holds up his hands as if that’s going to keeping me from walking away.

 With raised brows, I wait for the important reason he must have to be interrupting my to-do list. 

Wait... ew, I hate that! I have a to-do list! What am I, a 1950’s housewife? 

“Are you honestly Buffy and Dawn’s cousin?” He asks, still not convinced that it’s possible for the Summers’ to have family other than each other. 

“No,” I answer calmly, causing him to perk up. “I’m really Dolly Parton in a disguise!” He rolls his eyes, muttering curses under his breath. “You know, the rumor is the blonde hair is a wig,” I ramble to add more spice to the sarcasm. “And she just walks around Tennessee without anyone noticing her!” 

“Yep, you’re definitely related,” he determines unenthused, stepping aside. 

“I’m glad I’ve convinced you. Now if you don’t mind, I have stuff I need to do!” I step around him to head out and pick up Dawn. 

“I’m coming too,” he declares, following on my heels. 

I snicker, stopping in my tracks. “You’re coming with me to pick up Dawn from school? In the daylight... ” I add. 

“Yeah uh… just meet me at the crypt,” he decides, already heading back to the kitchen. 

“Wait, what?” I blurt out as I grab his wrist. “Why would I do that?” 

He glances over his shoulder, “I came to show Buffy something, but you’ll do I guess.” 

“I’m not Buffy though, I’m no Slayer,” I laugh lightly. “If it’s important I’d show it to her.” 

“You’re a witch, aren’t you?” He asks the obvious. 

“Well yeah,” I shrug. 

“Can you fight?” He continues, clearly leading somewhere. 

I stutter, “I mean I know spells and-” 

“Then you’ll do,” he declares. “We can tell Buffy about it later,” he adds, walking away. 

Buffy is made for this, literally! Unsure of myself, I shake my head. “Spike, I-” 

The vampire rolls his head back with a huff of annoyance. “All you God-forsaken women!” He groans under his breath. “I swear, one of these days I’m just going to lose my patience and kill all of you,” he sasses, facing me. “Except Joyce... and maybe Nibblet,” he determines as if that’s generous of him. “But definitely Harmony and that bloody annoying Cordelia if she ever comes back from LA!” He points at me sharply. “And you missy are testing me too!” 

Um, excuse him! He didn’t not just say that to me! “Oh buddy, you’re testing me!” I laugh mockingly. Little vampy here has another thing coming if he thinks he can threaten me. 

Spike chuckles wickedly and his face changes back to vampy style. He growls to reveal his fangs. I step back cautiously. I didn’t mean for him to take me literally! Abruptly, he comes charging at me. Oh great, not again!

_____________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream 

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you are my dad (boogie woogie woogie)

summary: five times logan accidentally referred to virgil as his dad, and two times he purposefully referred to virgil as his dad

(OR: a birthday fic for the lovely @lovelylogans​ set in her STELLAR gilmore girls au!)

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNALISE!!! if y'all haven't read the sideshire files you're missing out, it's so soft and good and wonderful and i promise you will love it

cw: illness, alcohol, drunkenness (but none of these are angsty, it's all fluff) 

wordcount: 2819

read it on ao3!

(occasion the first: the nineteenth month of logan’s life) 

“You can never tell anyone about this, kid. I’ve never done this in front of anyone and I never will again, you understand me?” Logan, strapped into his portable high chair, stares at Virgil while chewing on his Jupiter teething toy, not saying anything. Virgil assumes that it’s an agreement and slides the hair elastic off of his wrist. 

Carefully, he gathers all of his bangs into one hand and slips the elastic around them, twisting and sliding and twisting again until he has a little unicorn-horn ponytail sticking off his head and a clear line of sight. “Alrighty. What do you want for breakfast, Lo, huh?” 

Logan slobbers on his teething toy and kicks his little bare feet vigorously. He drops the teething toy on his tray and loudly declares, “BA!” 

“Bananas?” Virgil guesses. He’s never been as good at interpreting Logan’s variety of noises as Patton, but Logan waves his little arms and lets out a long string of baby nonsense, so Virgil assumes he must be at least somewhat on the right track. “Okay, kid. You get bananas now, and I’ll make us some chocolate-chip banana pancakes. Deal?” 

Logan slaps his tray and picks up his teething toy again. Virgil pulls open the fridge and carefully fills one of Logan’s sippy cups with apple juice, settling it into the cup holder slot. Logan immediately abandons his toy and begins to nom on the spout to get some juice. 

Virgil slices up bananas and sets a little plate onto Logan’s tray, along with a small plastic kiddie fork. Logan lowers the fork towards the slices of banana with the fierce determination of a child attempting to win a toy from a claw crane game. Virgil huffs out a soft laugh and returns to the kitchen counter. He moves through the motions of pancake batter, throwing in banana slices and chocolate chips, and he’s completely in the kitchen zone. Logan’s happy chewing noises and babbles become a soothing background noise. 

He’s jolted away from his pancake batter abruptly when he hears Logan wail. 

Virgil whirls around, whisk dropping on the floor and splattering pancake batter everywhere. Logan is crying, holding one hand out, and his little pointer finger is red. “Oh, you - did you bite your finger?” 

Logan sniffles and cries, holding his hand out. “Paaaaaaa!” 

Virgil winces. “No, kid, Papa’s not -”

Logan makes grabby hands at Virgil. “Pa! Paaaaa, papapapa, paaaa, paaaa!” 

Virgil freezes. “I - you - am I Papa?” 

“Paaaaaaaa!” 

Virgil carefully takes Logan’s tiny hand, leaning forward and carefully kissing his little red finger in the way he’s seen Patton do millions of times. “There we go, Logan. I - Papa kissed it better, so we’re okay, right?”

Logan sniffles. “Paaa . . .” 

Virgil carefully offers him a disk of banana. “You want some more banana?” Logan wipes at his little eyes, leans forward, and carefully takes the banana chunk in his mouth. “There we go. You’re okay. It’s okay, Logan.” 

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the second: logan’s junior year of highschool) 

Virgil is really sick of walking into the Sanders house and discovering a sick Sanders (pun very much not intended, thank you, Patton). 

He nudges the front door open, arms laden with takeout containers of meal-prep for the week and bags of groceries to re-stock the kitchen and two cardboard drinks trays full of to-go cups. Patton’s not home, off at some kind of business conference, and he’d promised to take care of Logan. 

(Take care of our kid, Patton had said, and Virgil had been caught so off-guard by the pronoun our that he’d barely remembered to agree.) 

So he has lunches for Logan for every day of the week, groceries so that he can make his own dinners, and a stock of smoothies full of hidden nutrients for study breaks. Virgil kicks the door shut behind him, struggling to not drop any of the things he’s holding. 

“Logan, you wanna come help me with your meals and shit?” 

There’s no immediate answer, which isn’t worrying in and of itself; it is almost 7:30 AM on a Saturday, and Logan is a teenager. Virgil sets the drinks trays and takeout containers on the kitchen, drops the grocery bags on the floor, and goes to lock the door behind him. He hears footsteps behind him. “Sorry if I woke you, but -”

He turns to face Logan and almost drops the keys. Logan is wrapped up like a burrito in his thick quilt, dragging it along the kitchen floor like a cape. His eyes and nose are red, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair looks like Remus’s after a late night of partying. He sways in the doorway. 

“Logan?” Virgil asks, keeping his voice soft. 

“Virgil,” Logan rasps. “I . . . believe that I . . . may be ill.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Virgil says. Logan blinks at him, once, uncharacteristically slow. 

“Could you please stop the room from spinning? And - and perhaps you could - could do me the favor of - of catching -”

Logan pitches forward, and Virgil lunges to catch him. He feels Logan’s forehead and swears with how hot it is. “Alright, buddy, back into bed with you.”

“Y - you brought me . . . groceries,” Logan manages. “I . . . we have to -”

“You do not have to do anything except get your ass back in bed,” Virgil says. “I’m calling Jean and leaving her in charge for the day, she can handle it. I’m staying here with you.” 

“Y - no, you - go t’ work -”

“Over my dead body, kid. Come on, back to bed.” Logan takes a single step and his knees immediately buckle beneath him. Virgil doesn’t think twice before scooping the Logan burrito up into his arms, shifting so that Logan’s head rests in the curve of his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

He maneuvers Logan back into bed, tucking him in and taking his temperature. It reads 101.1 - hot enough to warrant concern, but not so hot that he needs hospitalization. Good; Virgil’s had his fill of seeing Sanders boys in the hospital. He soaks a washcloth in ice-cold water, and Logan hisses when he lays it on his forehead, swiftly transitioning from a hiss of pain to a hiss of relief.  

“Stay here, kid. I’ll bring you something to drink in just a second, okay?” 

Logan makes a weak, pained noise from his bed. “Papa?” 

It takes every ounce of self-control Virgil possesses not to bolt or flinch or scream or otherwise negatively react. He knows this is Logan’s fever-addled brain speaking, he knows it doesn’t mean anything. “Yeah?” 

“Papa, I don’ - I don’ feel so good,” Logan whimpers. “Papa, I - I think - I think ‘m sick, Papa.” 

“Yeah,” Virgil says, approaching the bed and gently brushing a hand against Logan’s cheek. “Yeah, you are, kid.” 

“Don’ like it, Papa.” “I know. It’s gonna be okay, Logan.”

“Papa, not - not gonna leave?” Logan sounds so small and fragile, and Virgil remembers the first time a tiny bundle of baby was placed in his arms and the first time he met those vibrant indigo eyes and the first time he knew that he would give anything in his life for this child and his happiness. 

“No, kid. I’m not going anywhere.” 

*~*~*~*~* 

(occasion the third: logan’s senior year of high school) 

“You Sanders men wouldn’t have a proper diet or a proper sleep schedule without me, would you?” Virgil sighs. He’d worked a late shift at the diner today; when Patton had picked up dinner for himself and Logan, Virgil had kissed him quickly and told him not to wait up. 

Now, carefully shutting the door behind him, he’s beginning to think that he should have told Patton to pass the message on to his son. 

It’s nearly midnight, and Logan is slumped across the kitchen table. The table is covered in a mountain of SAT prep books, all of them annotated in Logan’s cramped, increasingly sloppier handwriting. Logan has blue and black pen marks smeared all over his face, his tie is askew, and he’s creating a small puddle of drool as he breathes in and out. 

“Aw, geez,” Virgil sighs. He toes off his shoes and leaves them in the tray, carefully dropping his coat and apron into a heap. Logan makes a soft snuffling noise. “You gotta get sleep, kid. How are you supposed to take an exam if you can barely keep your eyes open, huh?” 

He carefully closes all of the books and piles them up neatly on the table, slides the pen from Logan’s hand and fills up his pencil case, piles the post-it notes in place. It takes some maneuvering, but Virgil finally manages to pick up Logan. He stirs in Virgil’s arms. “Whhmmmm?” 

“Hey, kid,” Virgil murmurs. “We’re getting you to bed, okay?” 

“Need t’study, Papa . . .” 

Virgil’s heart clenches as he carries Logan to his room. “You need to sleep. You won’t pass the exam if you fall asleep in the middle of it, will you?” 

“No, Papa . . .”

“Don’t burn yourself out. Take breaks, let your body recover. Isn’t it you who told me that the brain stores and processes information when you sleep?” 

“Ye, Papa . . .”

Virgil carefully settles Logan on his bed, pulling off his tie and belt and shoes and glasses. “Sorry, Papa,” Logan yawns, eyes still closed. Virgil pulls the folded blanket from the foot of Logan’s bed and tucks it around him. 

“Don’t apologize. Just sleep, okay?” 

Logan is asleep again before Virgil’s even left the room. 

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the fourth: the aftermath of logan’s twenty-first birthday)

“Who knew my boyfriend was a lightweight?” Roman laughs. His second beer of the night is half-finished in his hand, and there’s a barely-buzzed but very-drunk Logan curled in his lap and lazily kissing his face. Virgil, the designated driver and therefore sober, would be slightly offended that his basically-son is making out with his boyfriend in front of him, but it is Logan’s twenty-first birthday, and they’re all chaste kisses along Roman’s jawline. 

“I wasn’t expecting it, based on the stories Patton’s told me.” 

“Do tell!” Roman says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I will not,” Virgil says. “You need good healthy role models in your life, and if I tell you stories about shenanigans you’ll never take Patton seriously again.” 

He finally manages to pile two giggly drunk teenagers into the back of his car and pull away from the remnants of Logan’s party. They’re whispering conspiratorially in the back seat. Virgil turns on his music on a low volume and keeps his eyes on the road. 

It takes Roman approximately seven minutes to finally kiss Logan goodbye and stumble down the driveway to his house. (Logan does not make his job easier by clinging like a starfish and begging for “jus’ one more kiss, please?”) Virgil nods at Isadora when she opens the door, and she offers him a nod in return as she ushers Roman inside. 

“I - I love him,” Logan slurs, yawning and leaning forward so that his head bonks against the driver’s seat. 

“I know.” 

“No, you - I - I love him, Daddy. I love him.” 

Virgil adjusts his rearview mirror and laughs softly. “I know, Logan. I think all of Sideshire knows you love him.” 

“They do?” Logan hums. “Do - d’you think Roman knows I love him, Daddy?” 

“I’m sure Roman knows,” Virgil says. 

“I should tell ‘im more, Daddy.” 

“You can tell him everything you want tomorrow. Right now, we’re going home, and you’re drinking a bottle of water before you go to bed.” 

“The - the human body is seventy-five percent water, Daddy. Ex - except Roman’s body. His is just made of muscle and pretty.” 

Virgil barely manages to contain the laughter bubbling in his throat.

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the fifth: logan’s sophomore year of college) 

You have: three new voicemail messages! 

First message: Saturday at 1:17 AM 

“Daddy - Daddy, ‘s me, ‘s Logan, an’ I think I’m jus’ a tiiiiiiiny bit drunk? I wanna make a - a - a snack , but not like Roman, cause he’s a snack but I don’t - uuuuuuuum . . . what . . . was I askin’ you? Dunno . . .” 

Second message: Saturday at 1:27 AM

“Daddy, ‘m sorry, got distracted cause - cause Roman is jus’ - jus’ so pretty - but I hada . . . a . . . question! Yeah, that’s the word. I wanna make those muffins you make, the ones with th’jam in the middle, an’ - but I don’ remember the recipe - how - how d’you put the jam in the muffins without cuttin’ ‘em in half? I don’ understand . . . I’ . . . call m’back, kay?” 

Third message: Saturday at 2:48 AM 

“Uh . . . Daddy . . . how d’you get batter stains outta y’r clothes . . .”

(“Virge? You okay?” 

“Logan leaves the weirdest drunk voicemails.”)

*~*~*~*~*

(plus one: the aftermath of logan’s graduation from chilton) 

“You really did that, huh, kid?” Virgil asks. Logan looks at him, mortar slightly askew, eyes bright and happy. He’s holding his diploma, and Virgil reaches over to ruffle his hair. He gently pulls Logan into a hug, and Logan holds on perhaps slightly tighter than normal. Virgil isn’t judging; he’s holding on tightly as well.

“Did what?” Logan asks. “Graduated? Were you expecting me not to?” 

“No, of course I knew you’d do that.” Virgil feels the lump creeping up his throat. “I - I just - aw, hell, Logan -”

“Are you crying?!” Logan asks incredulously.

“No, shut the fuck up,” Virgil hisses reflexively. Logan laughs, and he sounds watery too, so Virgil lets it go. “I just - you - I -” Logan waits patiently while he takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. “Good speech,” he finally settles on. 

“Oh,” Logan says, voice small. “That.” 

“You - you called me Dad.” 

“That I did.” 

“Was that on purpose?” Virgil asks. He holds his breath a little, not sure what he’ll do if Logan says no. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Logan says -

“Yes,” Logan says. “Of course it was. You may not have contributed to my genetic makeup, but - but you are my dad, Virgil. In every way that truly matters. You and Dad raised me, you kept me fed and healthy, the diner is my second home. You’re my - you’re my dad.” 

Virgil hugs Logan tightly, one hand gently gripping the back of Logan’s hair and the other squeezing around his waist. “You are my son,” he whispers into Logan’s hair. “In every way that matters, you are my son.” 

Logan takes a deep breath, and then, so quietly Virgil almost misses it, he whispers, “Eight, dad.” 

Virgil inhales, shakily, and exhales, “Sixteen, kid.”

*~*~*~*~*

(plus two: the aftermath of virgil asking logan’s permission to propose)

Virgil curls his hands into fists on his jeans, staring very intensely at Logan’s sneakers. “I promise,” he says lowly, “that I’m not trying to intrude on your life. I know how important Patton is to you, I know how important you are to him. And I know it’s archaic and kind of sexist to ask for someone’s hand in marriage as if I’m asking permission for someone’s property, but - but I - you’ve put up with so much instability in your life, with your shitbag of a sperm donor -”

Logan snorts at the reference to Christopher, and Virgil lets the corner of his lip quirk up into a smile before settling back into Serious Mode. “- and I would never want to make you feel like you have to accept me. I’m not trying to marry Patton because I think I have to, or because I think I deserve to marry him, or - or because he owes me something. I want to marry him because - because I’ve spent so long loving him, and so long being loved by him, and we’ve made a home together and a life together and - hell, we’ve raised a kid together - and i just -”

“I’m sure this is all just one big insurance scam,” Logan jokes. Virgil wheezes, and Logan reaches out to take his hand. 

“Virgil.” He pauses, and then, “Dad.” 

Virgil’s head jerks up, and Logan smiles softly at him. “I know that you would never propose if you weren’t completely serious. I appreciate you coming to make sure that I would be alright with this marriage, because I know someone asking you this question if you were in my shoes would help to ease your anxiety about the transition.”

“That was . . . very emotionally astute.” 

Logan smirks. “I know.”

“Brat,” Virgil laughs. He blinks, and suddenly his face is wet. 

“I appreciate this,” Logan repeats, “but Roman and I have literally been planning your marriage since we met. You do not need to worry about my opinion in this matter. If it will ease your mind, though, yes, Dad, you have my blessing to propose to Papa.” 

“You haven’t called him Papa in years,” Virgil says. 

“I haven’t had another parent to call ‘Dad’ in years, either.” 

Virgil couldn’t stop himself from hugging Logan if he tried. “Eight,” he says, and Logan hugs him tightly. 

“Sixteen, Dad.” 

[breanime]

Helpless (Part Nine)

*banner by @starkrobb​*

Being a shaper of the world, a shot caller, the man in charge was tough—

—but Rawlins did it anyway.

Truth be told, he loved it. He loved being the one to make or break a person, a company, a nation. The work he did for the government was messy, but necessary. The country would be shit without him.

But he didn’t do it alone.

Rawlins turned, the ice in his glass of bourbon clinking as he moved and looked at the two other men who helped make what he did possible.

Morty Bennett was standing by the window, complaining—as always. He was just a few steps up from a grunt himself, but Morty had proved himself useful. In all honesty, Rawlins had been prepping Russo to take over for Morty, but Russo was too self-sufficient. That was a man who couldn’t be tamed, which made his friendship with Castle all the more understandable. Castle was a wild animal; feral and dangerous, unpredictable like all wild animals were. But Russo was unpredictable too, and what was worse—he could play himself off as a domesticated animal, but he wasn’t. Russo was just as unhinged as Castle was, just as much of a threat, worse, even, because while Castle was an inevitability, Russo was a surprise.

And yet, they were both ants to Rawlins, just a few well-calculated moves from being crushed beneath his boot.

Which led Rawlins to his other accomplice: Joseph “Big Joe” Yakavetta. A few years ago, Rawlins wouldn’t have even glanced at the crimelord. It would have been beneath him, but as crime became a lucrative business and Rawlins a shadow in the dark, Yakavetta became a necessity. Yakavetta was currently on the couch, unbothered, flipping through files.

“Are you sure this is all Homeland has on me?” Yakavetta asked, not looking up.

“Positive,” Rawlins answered, taking a sip of his drink, “My sources tell me they’re close to bringing in the informant, and once that’s done…”

“…there’s no more loose ends,” Yakavetta finished. He closed the files, leaving them on his lap. “You instructed them to bring her in alive, right?”

“Yes,” Rawlins lied, “They’re going to deliver her to you, and if they don’t, you get to shoot them in the face.”

“That’s fair,” Yakavetta said with a lazy grin.

“And what about the Castle problem?” Morty asked. “He’s after us, and you know as well as I do that he’s not going to stop until one of us is dead.”

“We’re working on that, Morty, you know that,” Rawlins said back, “right now, we have the advantage. We fooled Homeland, got them in our pockets, and no one knows where we are.” He swallowed down the rest of his liquor, dropping the glass on the table and walking over to Morty, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I told you; I’m working on the Castle problem. There’s no need to worry,” he grinned, his milky eye narrowing with the action, “I’ve got it all under control.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before a shot rang out, and Rawlins and Morty both jumped back. The glass in the window cracked, and Rawlins’ eye widened as he started at where the bullet was lodged—had the glass not been so thick, the bullet would have been buried between his eyes.

Yakavetta stood up, whipping out his gun. “The fuck was that?”

Morty was backing away from the window now, eyes wide and mouth open. But Rawlins stood his ground, eye scanning over the scenery in front of him. “Castle—”

The lights went out, and Morty screamed.

“It’s Castle!” Rawlins cried out. He pressed the mic in his collar, shouting orders to the men he’d hired as their security. “He’s here! Castle’s here! Move! Move! Move!” Gunfire rang out in the background, and Rawlins grabbed Morty and dragged him over to Yakavetta. “We’ll be fine in here,” he explained, “the walls and window are bulletproof, we’ve got security all around us, as long as we stay in the building, we’ll be fine—”

There was a rumbling, then, and the three men cried out at once as the building shook. Furniture flew all around them, and Rawlins covered his head with his hands. His body was flung across the room, and when he landed, he bit his own tongue so hard, he tasted blood.

“Fuck!” Morty was crawling backwards beside him. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” His leg was on fire, and he was shaking it, trying to throw the flames off.

“Son of a—” Yakavetta got up and stomped on Morty’s leg, dousing the flames. “Get up!” He yelled at Rawlins. “We gotta get out of here!”

Rawlins scrambled up, his ears ringing. There was another explosion, and the three men were thrown into the crumbling wall from the force of it. There was smoke in the air, and all of their eyes watered with tears as they tried to see through it. Each one of them was coughing as they moved out of the room.

“We need to split up,” Rawlins shouted.

Morty glared at him. “Are you cracked? That’s insane!”

“Castle wants you and me,” Rawlins argued, “If we split up, that gives us a better chance and forces him to have to slow down. Yakavetta and I will go this way,” he inclined his head towards the back exit, “and you go the other way.”

“If I find out that you’re using me as bait—” Morty began.

“It’s a good plan,” Yakavetta interrupted, “Go!”

Rawlins and Yakavetta watched Morty scurry off, the outline of his body disappearing in the smoke. Yakavetta smiled.

You sat in the driver’s seat, heart pounding, as the second bomb went off. You were supposed to wait for the third explosion and drive off to the safe place to wait this out. You’d driven Frank, Billy, and Madani out there, dropping Frank off in the woods with his sniper rifle, then you dropped Billy and Madani off towards the back of the building. Micro was in his van a few miles away with his equipment. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, unsure if you were supposed to wait or hightail it out of there. Billy had told you to follow the plan exactly, not to deviate from it, but your instincts were saying to stay put…

…and then the third bomb went off.

It shook the ground, and you clenched the steering wheel, watching as the building in front of you started to fall apart. If you were lucky, Joe would die in the fire. If not, Billy, Frank, and Madani were stationed, ready to shoot down (or arrest, in Madani’s case) anyone who came out of the wreckage. You were supposed to meet Micro at the safe point and wait for Billy, and you put your hand on the gear, ready to shift into drive, but stopped.

Something was wrong—you could feel it.

Suddenly, an explosion of bullets sounded off around you. You ducked, looking around with wide eyes. The shots were coming from each direction, but they weren’t aimed at you. “Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, “they’re everywhere…”

“We got bogies,” Micro’s voice came through the radio, “all over the place—Frank, we’re surrounded.”

“We need to retreat,” Madani said, sounding like her mouth was right on the microphone, “We can still call in Homeland, it’s not too late—”

“—No retreat,” Frank growled, his voice sounding out of breath over the radio, “this ends now!”

Your fingers tapped on the wheel. Billy didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t Billy saying anything? Was he okay? Was he with Frank? Was he in trouble? Your thoughts were running wild, and just as you were about to get on the radio and check on him, Billy spoke.

“Me and Frankie got this,” he said, and you heard gun shots in the background, “Y/N, Madani is circling back to the checkpoint, meet you and Micro meet her there…”

You bit your lip, holding your breath to see if Madani or Micro was going to rat you out, but neither of them did. “Okay, sure,” you said, your hand gripping the wheel. The feeling in your chest still hadn’t left, that uneasy feeling, like something was going to go wrong…

But still, you put the car in gear, willing, at the very least, to follow Billy’s instructions. But then you heard a shot so loud, it felt like it was in your chest. You stopped, holding your breath.

“Frank’s been hit!” Billy reported over the radio, and though you couldn’t see him or even hear a tint of anxiety in his voice, you could still feel it. “We’re surrounded,” he said, “Y/N—get out of here! Now!”

“Billy—are you okay?” You asked. “Where are you?”

“Just go,” he yelled back, “We got this, we—”

“Where’d you go, pretty boy?!” A voice yelled in the background, a voice that you knew well—Joe’s voice. Yakavetta.

It was like he was right next to you, his voice loud and clear in your ear, over the sounds of gunfire and Billy’s commands, hitting you right in the chest. And with his voice, came the memories.

“I’m not going down for you,” Ronnie had said, “I’m out.”

Then there was a loud bang, and your brother was on the ground with a hole in his head.

You had never felt so helpless in your life as you had as you held Ronnie in your arms, watching him take his last breaths. There was nothing that could have been done, even you could tell that the shot was fatal, and once he finally stopped moving and you felt him go limb, you knew he was dead.

He was dead.

He was dead.

And the man that killed him was only a few miles away…

…You hit the gas, the sound of the car erasing the sounds of everything else, blocking out the images of Ronnie’s blood on your hands, the sound of Yakavetta’s voice, the heavy guilt in your chest. The engine was freedom, it was courage, it was Ronnie’s soft eyes, it was Khalil’s innocence… it was Billy’s kiss.

The more you drove, the more exposed the shooters became, but you weren’t bothered. You turned the wheel—an extension of yourself—dodging bullets, clipping any men who got too close with the side of the car. You flinched, yes, when a shot got too close, chipping your paint and cracking the windshield, but you kept going, your foot right on the accelerator. You felt your chest loosen the closer you got, so much so, that you didn’t even blink when you drove right into the building where you knew—instinctively—Billy was.

Though you did scream.

Your head banged against the dashboard, and you groaned at the pain, blinking through the blood that was dripping down your forehead. When the smoke cleared, you could see Billy and Frank in the dust, Billy hunched over Frank, both of their eyes wide as they stared at you.

“Get in!” You screamed.

Billy ran to the car, and you stared past him, looking for Joe. You couldn’t see him, but your attention was stolen when Frank limped over to the car, dragging a body with him.

“Y/N,” he gruffed out, “meet Morty Bennett.”

“Oh… Nice,” you glanced behind you as Billy got in, pointing his gun out of the window and your eyes roamed his tall frame, trying to see if he was injured. “You okay?” You asked him.

Billy grunted, firing off a couple of shots. When he turned back to you, his eyes dark and narrowed, he only had one thing to say: “Drive.”

So you did.

Madani and Micro were waiting for you when you pulled up. Micro had a first-aid kit in his hands, and he and Billy helped Frank inside the little shed you’d all chosen for your checkpoint while Madani watched over Morty. You sat in the cab of the car, waiting.

It wasn’t look before Billy, Frank, and Micro were coming back into the room.

“We need to send them a video,” Micro was saying, “prove that Morty’s alive to drive them out.”

“We can call in Homeland,” Madani offered, “They can—”

“Nah,” Frank growled, “Too late for that. This is vengeance, Madani. There’s no room for government red tape here.” He took out one of the many, man guns he kept on his person, and pointed it directly at Morty’s head. “Beg.”

And so he begged. You watched, both impressed and embarrassed for him, as Morty Bennett begged for his life, tears in his eyes as Micro taped him and tried not to laugh. Billy was beside Frank, looking bored and pissed at the same time, and you watched as Micro sent the video.

“They should be on their way any second now,” Micro reported.

“See?” Frank said to Madani. “Now that’s compromise.” Then he turned around and shot Morty right in the chest.

Madani jumped, eyes wide, and you stood up. “Jesus, Castle!” She cried out.

“Rawlins and Yakavetta are on the way,” Frank said, unrepentant, “Let’s make sure we’re ready.”

“Y/N,” Billy said, marching up to you and taking your arm, “We need to talk.” He led you outside, and you—with no other alternative—followed behind him.

“So… Technically,” you chirped once you were outside, and Billy’s back was to you, “I did listen to you….”

“What part of what you did was listening?” He asked, swirling around to face you, his glare potent. “You put yourself right in harm’s way!”

“I was helping!”

“You were getting in the way!” He put a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Me and Frankie had it covered!”

“Yeah? As he was bleeding on the floor, and you were surrounded by smoke and hired guns and rich, murderous assholes?” You shot back. “I saved you! Both of you!”

“We had it covered!” He yelled back. “You could have died!”

“Well, I didn’t, so—”

“But you could have!” Billy shouted, heedless of the fact that Madani, Micro, and Frank could probably hear him. “You were right in front of me, open to any attack—”

“Okay? And so what?” You argued. “Jesus, Billy, you aren’t my bodyguard anymore, so you don’t have to worry about me!”

His eyes narrowed. “You know that’s not what this is about.”

“Billy…” You closed your eyes for a second. “…I’m not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not,” he rolled his eyes, “Because you could give a shit if you live or die.”

“That’s…” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “… I told you, as long as I take Joe down, if I die…” You shrugged. “Then I die. Who cares?”

“I care,” he declared, stepping up to you, “Shit, Y/N… I care.”

“Billy—”

“I love you,” he said.

And time stopped.

The two of you stared at each other, silence engulfing the both of you. Your heart was pounding. Billy loved you… Billy Russo loved you… He loved you…

…you.

You opened your mouth, about to respond, when Micro poked his head around the door and called out to the both of you.

“Uh… Hey, guys, uh… Sorry to interrupt… But…

…we’ve got incoming.”

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. One part left! And as always, thank you all for being so patient with me and this series. Love you guys!

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek  @charlylama @realduckvader @whovianayesha  @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily  @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92  @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry  @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @rhabakoli​ @drinix @iaintnofurry @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens​ @leahnicole1219​ @evanlys19  @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia​ @evanlys19​  @witchygagirl​ @geeksareunique @sparrows-books​  @nyxxnoxx​ @justvnash @truly-insatiable​

Benny B Taglist: @suchatinyinfinity​ @fandomlifeandeverythingelse​ @starkrobb​  @elanor-of-imladris​ @thesumofmychoices​ @marauderskeeper​  @honeyydippaa​  @thebabblingbookworm​ @khuangpu13 @ladyblablabla​ @woodlandreads  @ms-delos​ @belladonnarey @thesandbeneathmytoes​  @georgiagrl1990 @kahlanmars​  @the-blind-assassin-12 @sylphene​ @ashdab2611​ @tessxblxckthorn​

Benny B Taglist (minus Sirius): @banditthewriter @something-tofightfor​

Helpless Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @accioromancff​ @funerals-with-cake​ @700teacups​ @thesumofmychoices​ @wangmangagavroche​ @aikeia @im-a-mess-ness​ @fangirlharbor​ @vhgirlforever​ @coraz0ndcristal​ @contanto-que-voce-me-queira​ @editboutique​ @lysawayne​ @benbarnestongue @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @agent-bossypants @hellsregnantqueen​ @ilkaeliseb​ @kimmie113080​ @sweetybuzz25​

[dontasktheradiodemon]

❌ So yesterday night Alastor invited over a guest to cook dinner for.

❌ I could tell the second she arrived because I could hear frigging "Be Our Guest" start up in the lobby.

❌ I tried to avoid that whole scene, but from down a hall I definitely spotted a shadow-thing juggling dishes.

❌ He rewrote the lyrics. I didn't catch all of them, but I did hear "Can they sing? Who can tell! After all, doll, this is Hell!"

❌ If you're on the fence about checking into the hotel and you're a musical theater fan: if you come, there's basically a 100% chance that the Radio Demon will do a musical number for you.

((So @autokrates came over for dinner last night, and we decided not to roleplay it out, but we DID write a long semi-pseudo-roleplay summary of how that meeting would have gone, so for any parties who are interested, HERE'S THAT CHAT LOG))

Valera

So! Largely, I believe. Val showing up, a musical number happens, and then ingredient delivery

Alastor

Sounds right.

Then Alastor preps dinner, spends too much time fussing with this Newfangled Modern Machine With Settings And Dials, and they sit staring at a slow cooker for a while.

Valera

Ah yes, nothing like sitting in dead silence waiting for things with someone you don't know! She should have asked Pentious for-- OH YEAH. Slide a pamphlet over. He can busy himself with memorizing that for a little while

Alastor

He absolutely will. And he will politely play showtunes in the background for the benefit of his guest as he reads.

Valera

Ah, just the thing for her to occupy herself with. Quietly stimming by wiggling her fingers and tail to the music

Alastor

He'd probably say thanks for the info but uh why give it to him? (Not that he doesn't WANT it but like, it seems pretty private, he's surprised that Valera—and Sir Pent?—think he's worthy of being let in on where Sir Pentious is this week)

Alastor three days after falling asleep on the floor all tangled up with Sir Pent: haha yeah but it's not like we're CLOSE is it?

Valera

Dumb old men being dumb!!!

Alastor

HE JUST. ASSUMES HE'S WAY MORE INTO THIS THAN SIR PENT...

Valera

Pentious asked her to elaborate to Alastor what was happening, since she's still got a level head and experience with shedding. Which is convenient, because she'd fully intended to anyway. Pentious may want company, and Alastor needs to be prepared.

Alastor

OuO oh so he trusts Alastor that much huh. He will... file that fact away... somewhere in his heart

Valera

Aside from herself, he's the person Pentious trusts most. Casually sips materialized tea.

Alastor

Immediately tries to play it off like HAHA MUST BE A SHORT LIST. ... Which would probably be funnier if not for the fact that, like, it IS a short list.

Valera

She will... Refrain from commenting on the list being Two People long. But she will raise a very deliberate eyebrow at the way he avoids any signs of emotional attachment

Which actually reminds her! She owes him an apology.

Maybe multiple? Whatever.

Alastor

(He might be verbally avoiding signs of emotional attachment but outside of that, like, it's gonna be hard for her not to notice that his attention on the conversation goes from like 75% to 110% the moment Sir Pent comes into it and he drops everything to focus on the Info Pamphlet That Might Be Helpful For Sir Pent)

Genuinely :)? at that, apology for what

Valera

Well, a few things! Pentious shared Alastor's letters with her, which, yes he was asking for input, but it was a bit invasive.

Alastor

Goes from :)? to :]

Valera

And then for, what was it, outing him? The post was taken down, but if Pentious had mixed feelings about it, well. She can't assume how Alastor felt even if she did say it was an Opinion Piece.

Shrug!!

Alastor

Oh THAT? Sure Alastor thinks he saw that go by now that Val mentions it. It's exactly what she said: an opinion piece!!! Why, he's an infamous celebrity! Everyone has an opinion on him and most of them are wrong! He doesn't put much stock in them~

Valera

Regardless! Her bluntness charms some, but it can also be quite inappropriate. She hopes it didn't distress him too much, it was never her intention.

She is a POLITICIAN.

Alastor

Why, he hardly even noticed it.

Valera

Good! Looping back around to her beau, did Alastor have any other questions?

Alastor

... Anything he can send to help out?

(NOW he's all self-conscious, offering to do something NICE. gotta try to be all aloof about it)

Valera

(Wow he really IS like Pentious but Even Worse.. She is amazed.) Send? Oh, no dear fellow. Asking for food today was largely a cover to visit without having Vaggie relay all this information thirdhand. Though he did do quite a fine job of making the food, Pentious will love it.

(assuming, but the Smell)

Alastor

✨💖 Oh will he? That's good. 💖✨

Valera

Yes. Alastor cut the vegetables and meat into the perfect sizes to avoid a texture issue, couldn't have done it better herself. Prr prr

Alastor

(He's like Texture Issue???? but like. He's not gonna ask.)

Valera

She will GLOSS PAST THAT, THEN. Beyond the food, which was a lovely bonus, hmm... No, she's already providing the lotions and voice recordings for Pentious. Unless he's willing to be an in house cheer squad when the snake gets bored and blind, there isn't much he could do.

Alastor

Well, he'd be glad to come over for a visit if it'd lift his spirits—if Sir Pentious would want the visit?

Valera

She expects he will! He's.. Distressed.

Uncomfortable shift. SHE DOESN'T LIKE BEING SO VAGUE.

Alastor

Well now she's got 150% of Alastor's attention.

Valera

Twitchy Tail Time!!! Yes. Well, the pamphlet makes it very dry, but a shed is nothing short of agony. Itchy, painful, it leaves you blind and helpless. If you've already got... experiences with such things. It makes it worse. Pentious is barely into it and he's already ready to attack anything that moves.

Alastor

... Well! Let Alastor know when he can come by.

(He's got trouble wrapping his head around the idea of WANTING company while pained and helpless, but if Valera says he does, then Alastor is going by that)

(... and if Sir Pent gets pissed Alastor came over he's 100% pointing a finger at Val and going "well she said you'd like it")

Valera

(LMAO)

(Val would explain it as wanting a strong person present so you can feel protected and finally relax)

(She's appealed to Pentious' ego with that!!)

Hah! Yes, of course. Though he may need to go to Valera's home, fair warning. She's trying to coax Pentious into laying in her tub to get through this. She's got more equipment to deal with the symptoms, and a larger bathroom by far.

Alastor

Having a near stranger over sounds like something that should worry Valera more than Alastor! For him, it's a bonus.

Valera

OH MAKE NO MISTAKE. VAL'S NOT SURE ABOUT IT

BUT. she's confident Alastor isn't going to do anything dumb in her house

bc Pentious would FLIP SHIT

Alastor

She's already decided that Alastor won't behave himself out of basic decency as a guest or even out of a desire to maybe get invited back but he WILL behave himself solely because Sir Pent is there and he's feeling kind of called out. Called out in his own kitchen, in front of his own crock pot,

Valera

Raises an eyebrow

She's grinning but she shouldn't be when she's acting like a little shit

Alastor

BUT WHAT HE ACTUALLY SAYS IS of course he'll be on his best behavior :) :) :)

WHY IT'S NOT EVERY DAY HE MEETS SOMEONE WITH SUCH FINE TASTE IN THE PERFORMING ARTS, he'd be a fool to be a poor guest

Valera

Glad to hear it! He's been nothing but a perfect gentleman so far, but with the way Pentious rants about other demons, an abundance of caution seems wise. Nothing personal, dear fellow.

Demon culture is very much a mystery to her, and a confusing one at that.

Alastor

COMPLETELY reasonable. After all, everyone is down here for a reason.

Valera

She would agree, if the concept of sin wasn't such an odd one! It comes down to survival of the fittest, at the end. But just because some pompous sky man says he loves you if you follow his contradictory rules, humans are doomed to eternal torment? It's bizarre.

Ah, but excuse her. Her viewpoint is, literally, alien.

Alastor

You make the world, you make the rules. What is the guy powerful enough to give the orders and see that they're obeyed if not "the fittest"? Who has the power to argue if he prints a list of criteria for who he does and doesn't want joining him in his gated community in the sky?

He's told someone tried to argue with him once. And that's how THIS little neighborhood got started.

Valera

Oh, it's not so bad. Heaven is a pretty dull place! All sorts of goody two shoes drinking tea and baking pies in the perfect idyllic weather. Forever.

Alastor

You know, for a time, Alastor used to think that all the "punishment" narratives around Hell were just talk. He had this theory that, actually, humans were sent to the afterlife they were better suited for. The people sent to Heaven are the kind of people who'd LIKE being in Heaven, the people sent to Hell are the kind of people who would be bored stiff in Heaven and just make it miserable for the people who want to be there.

But he was wrong. It really, truly is rotten down here. Not just because of the wilted vegetables and awful weather. Hell grinds at you on a spiritual level. It really is a punishment.

Valera

Well that's.. A lot at once. Vaguely concerned frown.. That she is going to cover with her tea turning to a Nice Dark Coffee. SSSssssssSSSIP.

Alastor

Just thought she might benefit from an insider perspective! She can rest assured: the pie-baking tea-drinkers really are better off.

:) :) :)

Valera

Interesting! She's never spent much time in Hell out of arms reach of Pentious, but that's something to keep in mind for the future.

Alastor

Happy to help~!

Valera

[[ val voice: haha yeah whenever I'm in hell I'm getting doted on but I'll keep an eye out for emotional wear and tear!

Alastor

(It's different for visitors who only come to chat with the convicts)

Valera

(Of course. More for Pentious than herself, she doesn't know a lot of his backstory yet BUT SHE KNOWS ITS SAD)

Now, moving to happier topics! She loves what hes done with the hair. Though it makes him rather fresh faced

Alastor

WHY, THANK YOU!! It was all the rage a hundred years ago! But they do say fashion trends come back around!!

Sir Pentious wasn't as impressed by it, but, hey, can't win them all, can you?

Valera

Ah, don't worry about it. He just takes a bit to come around to change!

... Usually.

Alastor

Well, doesn't matter, he probably won't be keeping it long.

"Usually"?

Valera

She grins!!! Yes, usually. He's remarkably easy to get on board with just about anything if you can relate to something else he likes.

Alastor

Well, naturally! Who isn't?

Valera

The LOOK on her face is like she SUCKED A LEMON.

You'd be surprised.

Alastor

... Apparently so!

he's gone from :) to 8) like what did he just step in

Valera

NOTHING SHE'S GETTING INTO! Now, tell her dear man. What kind of musicals do you like?

Alastor

............... All of them???

Valera

Oh? Everything from Les Mis to Cats?

Anything Goes?

Alastor

Are those the two extremes? Then apparently so! What about you?!

Valera

She has preferences when she's PERFORMING in them, but from an enjoyment perspective, she can appreciate any production.

Alastor

A fan after his own dead heart!

Valera

She can do a MEAN patter song, but she likes being able to dance around while she's belting lines out. Acrobatics are where she can really show off!

Alastor

Well, then he hopes he'll have a chance to see her dancing sooner rather than later! Alastor never received much in the way in formal training in dance, and he's sure it shows, but he likes to think he makes up for it with personality.

Valera

Oh pish posh. Dance is at least fifty percent attitude, he'd be phenomenal on or off the stage. And she can always give pointers, if he's looking for them.

Alastor

He really only does it for his own entertainment—AND for the entertainment of honored guests, of course—but if he ever decides to get back into theater for whatever reason, he'll keep her generous offer in mind.

Valera

Of course! Not like she's going to do a lot of dancing with Pentious here. Her love is many things, but a dancer is not one of them. Snrk snrk.

Alastor

Really. Huh.

So how DID they meet, anyway?? Alastor's been wondering! Hard for sinners to meet many people outside of Hell.

Valera

Oh! Haha, funny story, that. But how much detail does he REALLY want?

Alastor

Well, far be it from him to pry into anything she doesn't think she ought to share, of course. But he wouldn't have asked if he didn't wonder.

Valera

Fair! Alright, well. They met on tumblr, obviously. Pentious was flailing about being combative and intentionally aggressive. You know. Pentious.

Alastor

Naturally.

Valera

She decided to approach him without the immediate hostility so many of her peers were demonstrating. Doesn't everyone deserve a chance to explain themselves, after all? He seemed like he was lashing out, not truly malicious. Nobody had bothered explaining to him that what he did was wrong, or why.

And, you know. If you attack someone, you can't be surprised if they attack you right back. Obviously.

Alastor

Obviously.

Valera

So! Yes. She approached him, asked questions. Asked for his side of things. And they got along just fine! So she invited him over for tea, arguably. But mostly he invited himself over because she made too much tea.

Alastor

So just a chance encounter while adrift among the Internet's airwaves! How serendipitous.

Valera

More or less! Though really, she'd spoken to Alastor more at that point. Other Alastor. He'd been inviting her over to his hell, so she'd likely have met Pentious under very different circumstances if she hadn't approached him then.

But! He came over, and they talked. And they talked a LOT. About their passions, and about how ridiculous people can be these days.

And gods, can they. Then they decided to watch The Mikado! Has he heard of it?

Alastor

Has he heard of it?! One of Gilbert & Sullivan's most renown shows?! Madam! Of course he had!

Valera

Oh good, good good! He continues to impress! So lovely to know there are other people with taste around here. So yes! They watched The Mikado, and it went.. Almost alarmingly well. At the start they were on opposite ends of the couch, and by the end he was sprawled across her lap like he lived there.

Alastor

...... Well!

He warms up to people fast.

Valera

Haha! Perhaps he was simply overly pleased to connect with someone again, and let his guard down? They wound up making out on the couch like a pair of horny teens, so.

Alastor

...... Well!

Valera

Sssssips drink.

Alastor

............ Congratulations! (he has No Idea what you're supposed to say to that)

Valera

Thanks! (She doesn't either) Want to know an incredibly adorable fact about Penny?

Alastor

Sure!!

(he is retaining a Remarkable poker face through all this)

Valera

He likes it when you scratch his hood. Makes him melt in to a happy little pile of scales.

(someone please... Help Alastor....)

Alastor

Ha! Well, isn't that darling.

(The only one who can help Alastor is Alastor himself and he's like "why should I help, what's that bitch ever done for me")

Valera

Very. Should he ever deign to let you try it, the results are best from juuust the very joint of his neck and hood.

(ALASTOR PRACTICE SELF CARE)

Alastor

(FOR THE LAST HALF CENTURY HIS SELF CARE HAS BEEN AVOIDING SEEING/THINKING ABOUT SIR PENT EVER AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. He still needs to figure out how to do a self-care that's the opposite of that!)

Duly noted! Alastor's sure it'll never happen, but even so.

Valera

Oh, she isn't so sure! Penny speaks fondly of him.

Alastor

... Hm.

Well, there are different sorts of fondness, aren't there!

Valera

Well, yes of course? She's fond of many people, but she isn't exactly engaged to the vast majority of them. What is his point?

Alastor

That THAT'S the sort of intimacy one usually reserves for someone closer to the "engaged" end of the fondness scale—hold on, engaged??

Valera

Oh? Yes, engaged. Anyway, is it? This must be one of those human things again. There's nothing sexual about enjoying platonic physical contact, there's no reason for it to be relegated to a relationship.

Alastor

Well, what does Alastor know, he's never been a very touchy person. SO, how long have you two been...? Well, probably since before Alastor met either of you, silly question! He just must not have heard.

Valera

Oh, no it's.. Arguably recent? Certainly after he and Pentious started talking. Though don't get too fussed, dear. Pentious has a ring he hasn't lobbed at her yet. They've just agreed to get married, Pentious refers to her as his fiancé. No dates set or anything.

Alastor

Oh, good, so he didn't miss some big announcement. That WOULD have been embarrassing

Valera

He did not! And really, with how he and Pentious get along he might wind up getting asked for advice if a proposal ever actually occurs.

Alastor

... He doesn't know what kind of advice he could offer! He's not known for his expertise in romance, ha.

((suddenly got a flashing glimpse of a possible future where Alastor is the best man, standing like five feet away from Sir Pent trying to hold it together))

Valera

[[ JFDHFKDSHJFKDS HONESTLY.... IT'S LIKELY

Valera

You know, she doesn't think any of them are! Marriage isn't something Veci usually do with aliens, but Pentious insisted he wanted a proper marriage, and kids, and she's not opposed to either if that makes him happy. Though seeing him with the dolls is incredibly endearing.

Alastor

((And I will be FILLED TO THE BRIM with sadistic glee))

The dolls??

Valera

[[ Alastor crying ASMR

Alastor

(("Al are you okay—" "YEAH I'M FINE IT'S JUST. IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL. ISN'T IT. SO MOVING."))

Valera

Yes! Would you like to hear that story?

Alastor

SURE!!

Valera

Super! So! She doesn't know ALASTOR'S stance on calling women things like sluts and whores, but she herself is.. Not terribly fond of those words. Something about having them screamed at her, just doesn't sit well.

Alastor

One rarely is fond of the words one's been on the receiving end of.

Valera

Indeed. Pentious on the other hand, used them quite freely against any woman he wasn't pleased with.

But! Pentious wants kids someday, and kids are of course, quite perceptive little creatures. And no child of hers is going to grow up internalizing that kind of nonsense, either as a measure of their worth or as something a proper young man calls any lady.

So! She made a few dolls, to demonstrate her point. Pentious wants kids, so she made him some dolls that resemble what his offspring would.

And then hurled abuse at them quite freely!

He didn't take kindly to hearing what random men would call his own daughter, funnily enough.

Alastor

Alastor's like lmao. (IT SEEMS KINDA MEAN AND MEAN THINGS AMUSE HIM... he's half powered by schadenfreude)

Valera

(It WAS mean)

Alastor

And he takes it that worked.

Valera

Pentious can often be found curled up with his little doll family, and he hasn't used a slur since, so! Yes.

Alastor

No surprise there! He is, at his heart, a family man in hibernation, isn't he?

Valera

Not even in hibernation! He's incredibly eager to start a family.

Alastor

Of course. Now that he has the chance. Probably the only man in Hell who does.

Formerly in hibernation, then.

Valera

Can sinners not reproduce?

Alastor

No! Sterile, one and all. The dead do not breed. There are the few rare exceptions who have been supernaturally promoted out of the pool of the damned and made nobility of the same rank as the native Infernal-born or Heaven-fallen demons—Queen Lilith, for instance—but that's not just a thing that HAPPENS. A sinner must be CHOSEN, typically by Lucifer himself. Alastor wouldn't be surprised if it happens less than twice a millennium.

And even at that, to his knowledge these ascendant damned have never bred with each other—only with the Infernal nobility.

Valera

Huh! Fascinating. She really should learn more about the going ons of hell... But good to know! That explains the way Pentious.. Basically went feral as soon as he found out it was possible to have a family.

She's still not sure about the whole "eyes going red" thing, but he's explained it as any peak of emotion.

Alastor

It happens!

... Did you account for the possibility of him being sterile when you promised him a family? Or did you make the promise on the assumption that he's as fertile as any living man?

Valera

Oh, she can reproduce with anyone who has a soul. Pentious IS a damned soul. Ergo...

Alastor

Getting around the usual rules, then! Good. Alastor would so hate to hear if he'd gotten his hopes raised just for them to be dashed again.

Valera

Oh, she was careful to check! Many demons are soulless beings, and she hates to be made a liar of. Though she wasn't even sure poor Pentious even had genitals at the time!

Alastor

Well. Surprise.

Valera

She is Looking Away

Yes... Surprise indeed.

Alastor

He is the picture of :) neutrality

Valera

Val is trying very hard to keep the conversation from going to DARK PLACES. So!!! Subject change time.

Did you and he have fun at your last visit? He tends to give her a summary, but it's nice to hear the other perspective

Alastor

OH. YES. SURE. DELIGHTFUL TIME.

Valera

Oh? Delightful?

Alastor

Yeah, sure! ... Why, did he not think so?

Valera

Oh! He.. Got very drunk. His memories get fuzzy.

Alastor

... Well, that was half of what made it delightful!

Valera

She wouldn't know, but she's very glad to hear it!

Alastor

You abstain? Or not biologically capable?

Valera

Oh, neither. Rarely have the chance to actually relax anymore, too many attempts to murder her over the years. Regicide is very in, you know.

Alastor

Heavy is the head!

Valera

Hah! He can say that again. It's a thankless job. But somebody's got to do it.

Alastor

((I'M RUNNIN OUT OF STEAM... and they chatted about a lot more than I expected, this was productive!! Anywhere else you think we oughta steer the conversation or d'you think it's safe to go And Then They Chatted More, The End))

Valera

[[ NAH I THINK ITS BEEN ESTABLISHED WELL ENOUGH. STEER BACK TO MUSICALS, THEY TALK SHOP, AND THEN WHAM FOOD

[melodious-madrigals]

of communication and cats

Written as part of @wondertrevnet‘s Lock Out Bingo.

Fandom: Wonder Woman Pairing: Diana/Steve Prompt: texting Word Count: 2552 Rating: T Summary: Steve and Diana adopt a cat. Steve is exceptionally bad at texting. The two converge more often than you'd think. (Aka miscommunication, but like. Low stakes.) Mostly fluff. In-universe for lost love (sweeter when it’s finally found) which you can read here.

Find it below the cut or on AO3.

***

Notes: not really a texting fic, just a very loose definition of "fulfilling" the prompt because it includes some texts, lol. 

***

Don't be mad, but says the preview on her push notification from Steve's latest message. Not exactly an auspicious start, given his propensity for doing reckless things.

Diana massages the spot between her eyebrows where tension headaches start, and decides she needs to just bite the bullet and look at the text. (It can't be too bad if he's still able to text about it, right?)

Swiping down, she taps on the message.

Don't be mad, it says, but I found this little one abandoned, and I was *going* to ask if we could keep it but then I fell in love. Sorry, no takebacksies, but I will let you help me name it.

Attached is a picture of a fluffy black kitten curled up against Steve's chest. The angle is funny—clearly an attempt at a one-handed selfie while also holding the kitten—but it's one of the most precious things Diana has ever seen. The kitten's tail is wrapped tight enough to be gently touching its own nose. It's so adorable that Diana thinks she might cry.

The message is a little over an hour old, and Diana goes to text back when more messages come through.

Vet says: It's a girl! 🎈

Then, She has a great big personality, with a photo attachment of the kitten—vet office clear in the background—looking extremely indignant at her current circumstances.

I look forward to meeting her, Diana types back.

When Diana gets home, she finds a veritable explosion of cat toys and products across their living room and kitchen. At the epicenter, on the couch, is Steve, asleep, with a tiny little ball of black fur tucked up under his chin. If Diana had previously had any reservations about their new kitten (she hadn't, really), they would have been erased upon seeing them like this.

She snaps a quick picture, and then goes into the kitchen, pulling out vegetables to start dicing for the evening meal.

Twenty minutes later, Steve wanders in, the kitten now cradled against his chest.

"She's about six weeks," says Steve. "Which is a little early, but the vet says that other than needing to be fed, she looks healthy. She didn't appreciate her first round of shots, but she did appreciate the salmon pâté slurry I gave her afterwards."

"Poor thing. She was abandoned?"

"I think so," says Steve. "I actually saw her yesterday, hiding in the same spot, but they say not to move kittens, you know? because sometimes the mother is just off hunting. But she was alone yesterday and crying, and she was doing the same when I passed by today, and I couldn't just leave her there."

"You did the right thing, Steve. So, about her name."

Steve looks away guiltily, and Diana just knows that he's already named the cat.

"The vet needed a name to start her file," Steve mumbles. "I thought Bast would be cute."

Diana purses her lips, trying not to smile. "She already has you worshipping her like a goddess; it fits." Then she breaks, and starts laughing. "I'm not mad, Steve! About the cat or the name."

Steve looks relieved, like he didn't really think this would be a fight, but wasn't sure. They've talked about getting a pet before, but have always decided against it because of how much they travel.

"I already talked to Aisha and Marguerite," he says, referring to the couple who lives across the hall. "They said that they would watch her when we go out of town, as long as they also get to play with her while she's still a kitten."

"That reminds me, we should have them over for dinner this weekend. Or next, if they aren't free."

Steve shakes his head. "Next weekend's bad. I've got a work thing Friday night, and we're going to the concert at the Madeleine on Saturday with the Giraudets."

Diana makes a little humming noise as she pulls several spice jars from the cabinet. "Am I coming to your work function?"

"Only if you want, but I'd love to have you. You can't hit Floyd, though."

Diana wrinkles her nose at the mention of his co-worker. "We can go out for late night kebab afterward," she decides. "As a reward for putting up with him."  

"Génial," says Steve, at the same time that Bast wakes up and meows loudly. "Apparently we haven't been paying her enough attention."

"Hello, Bast," Diana says, and the kitten meows again.

"Here, take her; I'll finish supper," offers Steve.

The kitten squeaks as Steve transfers her, then settles into Diana's arms, looks up at her, and slowly closes her eyes and falls asleep again.

They're cat people now, apparently.

*

Bast, as it turns out, is a very affectionate cat. She wants to be held, constantly, and when she isn't being held, will toddle up to one of her people and scream until they finally do pick her up. She also likes sleeping tucked up under Steve's chin, which Diana finds absolutely hilarious because Steve is not—and has never been—a back sleeper, but now, more often than not, she finds him falling asleep on his back so as not to disturb Bast.

Bast is most definitely Steve's cat, but she likes Diana well enough. Often, she perches on Diana's left shoulder when she's working on her laptop, and peers at the screen like she's reading the artifact dossiers too.

Sometimes, if Diana is very lucky, Bast will curl up in her lap instead, nose still tucked into the curl of her tail, and purr. Most of the time, Bast perks up as soon as Steve gets home, and prances over to greet him with an affectionate headbutt.

"I see how it is," Diana says, one day, when Bast lifts her head at a sound outside the door that turns out not to be Steve, and Diana swears she looks disappointed. "You like him best."

Bast simply looks at Diana with her big round eyes and blinks once, which Diana suspects is cat for 'duh'.

"Oh, all right, I cannot blame you," Diana sighs, "I like him best too."

Bast presents her chin, and Diana obliges her with a scritch.

("That was a cat-kiss," Steve says later, of the blink, laughing. "Bast was basically telling you she loves and trusts you, and you thought it was sass.")

*

It's a perfectly ordinary day, and perfectly ordinary days are very easily ruined.

For the day in question, it's the We need to talk that shows up from Steve, causing Diana's nerves to go haywire. She really doesn't think they're fighting about anything, but 'we need to talk' is universally a bad thing, right? They're usually pretty good about handling their problems in constructive ways, and they're excellent at talking through things, but there's a certain permanent ominous quality to 'we need to talk' that fills her with dread.

But when Diana unlocks her phone, she finds: We need to talk about how adorable Bast is right now, along with a picture of the cat in question with her paws crossed over her eyes, and the tiniest tip of her tongue visible between her teeth, like she didn't quite pull it all the way in when she closed her mouth.

Diana laughs, shows the picture to her interns, and sends back She looks so angelic. Like she didn't start caterwauling at four a.m. this morning and wake me out of a dead sleep.  

She's a cat, replies Steve. They're always perfect little angels, even when they're not.

"That cat has you wrapped around its paw," Diana says that afternoon, when she comes home to find Steve making a special meal for Bast. "That had better not be the hake I bought at the market this morning."

"Of course it isn't. I filleted that and have the rest cooking down in the stock." He tilts his head toward the lidded pot on the stove. "This is just a little treat for being three months old." He says the last bit to Bast in a slightly sing-song voice.

She loves this man, she really does.

*

Diana is having a very long day and thinking about Bruce Wayne in a rather uncharitable way. (He is, after all, the reason she had to extend her business trip to the States and is not currently home with her husband and their cat.) She's dirty and tired, and trying desperately not to be bitter about it, because she doesn't approve of feeling bitter about things, when her phone buzzes.

The setting it's on means that the text can only be from Steve, while everyone else is filtered out by 'do not disturb'. Checking her surroundings surreptitiously, she pulls out her phone.

Diana help I'm dying reads the preview and Diana's heart drops into her stomach, body immediately prepping for a supersonic flight and going into panic mode because she's too far away, an hour or two at least from whatever Steve has gotten himself into now—

Diana help I'm dying at how fricking cute Bast is and I need you to be too, Steve has written. I can't even. Underneath is a minute long video of Bast, and Diana nearly hurls her phone across the room before the relief takes over. She almost throws up as she comes down from the adrenaline spike, too.

After a couple of deep breaths, Diana hits the dial button, and Steve picks up on the first ring, right as rain.

"Did you watch it? Isn't she just the best?" he exclaims.

"You need to work on how you start your texts, Steve," she says instead of answering. "Do you know how it popped up on my phone? 'Diana help I'm dying.'"

Steve sucks in a breath sharply enough that it's audible even across the tinny connection. "Oh, Gods. I'm so sorry, Diana."

Between his contrition and the fact that he's clearly okay, Diana feels her anger evaporate. She can't count the number of times that Barry—just for example—has used 'I'm dying' or 'DEAD' or 'deceased' to indicate various emotions that are not death-based. It's only normal that Steve would pick it up.

"No, I also overreacted," she admits. "I have not slept properly in two days and was not really thinking."

"I'll still work on it," Steve promises. "Seriously, watch the video; she's such a weirdo. It'll make your day better."

"Okay, I will."

"Hey, are you okay? Do you want to talk?"

"I am just ready to be home," Diana says. "I really shouldn't talk now, but hopefully I will be home before morning."

"Okay, Angel. Love you."

"Love you too."

The call disconnects, and then Diana hits play on the video. It's shot in their kitchen, and it's dark enough out that Steve has the overhead light on. Bast is in the middle of the floor, spinning in circles chasing her tail, or maybe the shadow of her tail, Diana can't quite tell. She suppresses a laugh as Bast starts spinning the other way. Dammit, Steve's right. She really is cute.

Day brightened, Diana taps out. Give her a kiss for me, we both know how much she loves those.

Two minutes later, a photo pops through of a very disgruntled looking Bast with the caption 'post-kiss', and Diana squashes down another laugh.

She's home by one in the morning, their time, and only has to move Bast a little bit to climb into bed next to Steve.

*

One of the reasons Diana was originally hesitant to get a cat was how much they both travel for work, and this month has been absolutely non-stop for her. In the past three weeks, it feels like she's only been home about three days. Fortunately, this is her last trip for another month (or at least, her last scheduled trip; JL business has a nasty way of popping up at inconvenient times), and Steve's job has been largely quiet on the travel front, lately.

She's got one more day to get through, and then it's just her normal job. She might even take a personal day or two.

She's just about to go into another meeting when her phone buzzes. Urgent! Read me NOW says the preview of Steve's message, and Diana immediately thumbs open her lockscreen, pausing before she enters the room, just in case she needs to dart back out.

We love you! ♥️💕 reads the rest of the message, and underneath is an attached photo of Steve and Bast. He's holding her up so that their faces are pressed together, and Bast has decided to be a perfect angel for Steve, looking directly into the camera. Diana swears she's even smizing next to Steve's own grin.

I know we talked about this, says another message that pops up while she's looking at the picture, but we wanted to make sure you saw that right away.

And then, We miss you.

A smile inches its way across her lips, and she sends back a quick selfie with a cat ears filter and a miss you too scrawled along the bottom before ducking back into the meeting.

*

It's Bast who hears her first, because when she opens the apartment door, Bast is sitting squarely in front of it. She lets out an indignant yowl, and then puts her front paws up on Diana's legs, asking to be picked up.

Diana shoves her suitcase inside the door, closes it, and obliges, and Bast settles in against her chest.

"She's clearly forsaken me," says Steve, who's just come out of the bedroom. "Hey you," he adds, leaning in over Bast to give her a kiss.

"Give it five minutes," Diana replies, because even though the cat looks comfortable now, her moods are mercurial.

"Mmm," Steve hums, clearly in agreement. "Hey, before I forget: can I see your phone?"

She shifts Bast (who looks up at her reproachfully) so that she can free a hand and pull her phone out of her pocket to give to Steve.  

"I've been fiddling with mine, and I figured out how to turn the preview off of the push notification," he says.

Diana lets out a startled laugh. "That's probably a more secure setting anyways," she says. "Go ahead. I look forward to the moment when every third text from you will no longer induce panic."

"The future is now," Steve deadpans, and Diana has to set an affronted Bast down so that she can give Steve a proper hug, because she's glad to be home.

*

The next morning, Diana sneaks out early to their favorite boulangerie for a couple of pain aux raisins. She's in line when her phone pings.

Swiping it open, she taps on the notification and sees (in full, this time, thankfully): Mayday, mayday, mayday, the cat has taken your spot. There's Bast—stretched out so long across the bed that it almost looks like someone put her on a medieval torture rack—looking very pleased with herself because she's taken up the entire half of the bed that is Diana's.

A small smile creeps over her face as she steps forward to order. She's got a spot to reclaim, a cat to snuggle, and a husband to kiss good morning; she hasn't got any time to waste.

***

[aboyandhisstarship]

SICON verse: ask SICON hour/APEX 99

The camera cut in as Kvella said “welcome to today’s ask SICON hour, today’s question is from Feqesh of the planet Tophet who asked, How do humans get into combat zones?”

The camera drone buzzed by as Kvella explained “the humans have 4 major methods of entering a combat zone.”

Footage of her capsule drop was cut in as she explained “the first and most famous is there orbital insertion into hostile territory, special capsulizes are fired from their ships that descend rapidly shedding outer layers in order to confuse enemy defense systems.”

The footage changed back to the alien reporter who said “the next is the calmest method; it is a simple drop ship landing into friendly or friendly controlled territory, in the same vain is the Tac Drop.”

It cut to a Human in his office the title card reading “Lieutenant William Ericson, SICON Federal Forces”

The Human explained “Tac, or tactical insertions are preformed when part of a planet is claimed or if we cannot for whatever reason insert from Orbit, the drop ship will rise to an altitude of about 150-200 meters,” the subtitles informed “about 80 council standard height units.”

Ericson scratched his head “every drop ship is equipped with what we call mole holes, small hatches that can be opened by the pilot, you sure you want to hear about this stuff it is very boring?” the Human asked Kvella.

Kvella answered from behind the camera “you promised to answer the publics questions LT,” Using the human’s nickname.

The human sighed “when we get to the drop point the Mole Holes open and we jump and fall out of the vessel”

Kvella stared as the human finished “our drop jets will kick in allowing us to land safely.”

Kvella nodded keeping her composer “and the 4th method?”

The human sighed “this one is rare but occasionally for one reason or another we need to insert into an environment where special transport is needed, such as an ocean.”

Kvella nodded “go on…”

The Human shifted “so the drop ship is loaded with the right transport, and dropped with personal for about 50 meters at high speeds….”  

Kvella yelled “are you Humans insane!? How did any of you survive long enough to see the…” the camera went black.

It cut back in the Kvella saying “thank you so much, Feqesh from Tophet for your question on this Ask SICON hour.” An alarm blared in the background as the camera went black again.

Dagger squad Quarters:

T’Mai glared as Futuba looked at the piece of paper in front of them with equal intensity, Depoint glanced up from her book asking “what are you two stuck on?”

Futuba glared “I swear 46 down was built to destroy me!” she accused the cross word.

Francis stopped playing with his paddleball a gag gift from the squad as he asked “what is the clue?”

T’Mai read “Rome’s most famous aqueduct….. Five letters”

Ericson entered saying “Gear up we got a job.”  

Francis yelled “officer on deck!”

Everyone snapped up as the human shook his head “as you were, briefing in an hour… also the Tiber River.”

Everyone relaxed and Futuba gasped “it fits!”

Briefing room:

The council official shifted as the squad entered, he let out a sigh of relief upon seeing two non-humans among their ranks.

Ericson saluted Captain Hernandez saying “Dagger squad reporting as ordered, Sir!”

Hernandez nodded “as you were dagger, this is Major Kieta of the council intelligence service.”

Ericson nodded at him “Sir, what can Dagger do for you?”

Kieta answered “we recently lost contact with the planet Nandry 4…18 Terran hours ago they said they were suffering the start of a plague…possibly Bug related, you vessel is the closest ship with the proper personal, you are to evaluate the danger to planet and the council as a whole and decide the proper course of action.”

Ericson frowned “course of action sir?”

Hernandez answered “depending on your we either send for a council medical team…or make the planet glow.”

Kvella asked T’Mai “make the planet glow?”

T’Mai answered “the humans mean bomb the planet.”

Ericson nodded “yes Sir’s…Depoint this is your show, I want a list of everything you need prepped and ready by the time we get into orbit!”

Depoint nodded “on it LT!”

Hernandez said “dismissed!”

  Dropship:

The pilot frowned “lieutenant…”

Ericson got up moving to the cockpit asking “what is it pilot?”

The man said “I’m not picking anything up, no emissions ,no thermals…nothing on motion tracking…”

Ericson said “Intel says this plague started 18 hours ago…is the equipment malfunctioning?”

The pilot answered “no way to know sir…”

Ericson turned on his radio saying “this is Dagger 0-1 we can’t detect any signs of life on the planet, requesting an orbital scan.”

The voice returned “roger that Dagger 0-1 beginning orbital Scan….Dagger 0-1 reading are confirmed there is no detectable signs of life on the planet.”

Ericson turned to the pilot “forget the meet up coordinates find us ground zero and prep a tac drop.”

The pilot nodded “roger sir” pulling up and increasing speed as the ships interior lights changed from blue to red.  

Ericson walked into the cabin calling out “Tac drop, let’s move!”

The team got out of the seats and headed for the mole holes, T’Mai asked “what’s the issue LT?”

Ericson shook his head “unknown but we are getting ready for the worst…helmets on assume airborne!”

The squad chanted “sir yes sir!”

The pilot called “thirty seconds!” the mole holes opened and the squad jumped through them falling into a deserted city.

Kvella deployed her drone midair to get a wide shot of the silent city, the squad landed and Francis pulled out his gun saying “well if they are people around they should have seen that…”

Futuba pulled down her helmets visor saying “power grid is still online…this city seems to be in perfect working order…”

Ericson looked around the empty square “but everyone is gone…it’s like the east wind swept through here.”

Depoint said “sir they were not kidding about some kind of disease…it is everywhere effecting everything.”

Kvella brought the drone in asking “the east wind?”

Francis sighed “drone off in combat zones tourist…but it is an old earth legend a force that would sweep away children that misbehave in their sleep never to be heard from again…it’s unstoppable, undetectable.”

T’Mai looked around asking “and this is a story you tell your children.”

Depoint held up as scanner “a lot of earth legends are like that…perk of growing up on a death world…I think I got something LT.”

Ericson asked “what you got Doc?”

Depoint frowned “undeterminable biomass…”

Francis asked “alive…a survivor?”

Depoint shook her head “no detectable life signs”

Ericson said “but maybe some answers, let’s check it out…Futuba ideas as to why we could not pick it up in the ship?”

Futuba shrugged “our scanners are designed to pick up communities or community sized things if it is small enough and in the right place our systems may not have been sensitive enough to pick it up…”

T’Mai said “and if we couldn’t maybe some else could not either…?”

Ericson nodded “an entire planet population doesn’t just disappear…Depoint lead the way.”

Dagger squad advanced through the deserted town before stopping before a tunnel entrance vaguely similar to a subway entrance. Francis muttered “its defendable LT…”

Futuba cut in “correction was defended…I’m picking up makeshift barricades and other obstacles…”

Ericson squatted looking into the dark tunnel “so something was happening and someone clearly didn’t agree with it…alright combat wedge nice and careful.”  

The team went underground there suits lights turning on with a click. They tore down the barricades and saw a dead local…the creature was small roughly similar to a beaver of earth. It’s eyes had a green foam around them.

Ericson held the squad back saying “Futuba…any booby traps?”

Futuba scanned the room before answering “no explosives, no chemical agents,  no known weapons of any kind.”

Ericson nodded “your show Doc.”

Depoint nodded carefully scanning the body saying “this one was killed by a plague alright…but our scanner is kicking back the hallmarks of a chemical weapon.”

T’Mai blinked “what?”

Francis frowned “bugs don’t use chemical weapons…or anything artificial.”

Depoint nodded “yep and I’m also picking up another oddity…a trademark.”

Ericson frowned “a trademark?! Bugs don’t have businesses”

Kvella pointed out as her drone buzzed by “so it wasn’t the bugs…”

The room went quiet as implication set in; Futuba said “council ships have similar scanning capabilities to our own.”

Depoint sighed “this creature expired close to 64 days ago.”

T’Mai said “why would the council test chemical weapons on its own people and then send a ship to investigate”

Ericson sighed “it’s a cover up….Kvella send your drone out get footage of everything.” Kvella nodded her drone sailing out of the tunnel.

Francis asked “what are you thinking LT?”

Ericson sighed “I’m thinking the council doesn’t have the stomach for this war…so they hired a company to develop a chemical weapon that will wipe out the bugs… the needed a testing ground and chose this city because it was secluded and the locals could contain it easily…then it got out and whipped out the entire planet…so our corp friends got scared, destroyed the bodies from orbit missing our friend here and then contacting the council…they sent us figuring we would write it off as an odd cosmic anomaly and that would be that.”

The squad stayed silent they knew the LT had most likely hit the nail on the head, Depoint cleared her throat “I have identified the Copyright LT…”

Ericson sighed “tag the remains as a bio hazard and get the ship down here.”

 Watson:

As soon as the squad got back aboard they went through quarantine procedures, then Ericson met Hernández and they disappeared into the communication center as the squad returned to their quarters.  

Com Center:

Hernández sighed “Will I’m sorry…”

Ericson asked “I know that tone what is it Hailey?”

Hernández sighed “that council intel guy aboard caught wind of what we found and put in a call to on high… the council stepped in and have classified this entire thing, cancelled the investigation ordered the footage destroyed and the silence of all involved…”

Ericson yelled “they are just covering it up!? What about SICON?”

Hernández sighed “command is as appalled as we are but this didn’t affect any humans and as such the council is blocking all attempts to make these experiments public.”

Ericson sighed “you’re joking…”

Hernández sighed “it gets worse…” and she pulled up a propaganda piece that is now broadcasting throughout council space.

It showed footage of the bugs doing strange things while a voice narrates “these creatures have been attacking innocent civilians for far too long!”

Footage of the Sorak 9 airstrike was shown as the narrator continued “and while the brave forces of the council try to repel these horrible invaders it has been an uphill battle!”

It cut to a laboratory looking building filled with a Varity of council’s species as Narrator kept going “but thanks to new invention’s by Vesta Corp soon the war will come to a safe end! Introducing Apex 99!”

It showed stock footage of old timey humans as they continue “our friends in the strategically integrated collation of Nations developed a weapon a long time ago they Called Anthrax! This powerful chemical was not very useful however until Vesta Corp got involved and using it as a basis managed to develop the bug killing weapon that will save the galaxy! Good work team!” it showed footage of a scientist getting a result on a computer screen and cheering.

Before the footage ended and a card came up saying “want to defend the galaxy?! Join your council member armed forces today!”

 The piece ended and Ericson asked “so they commit war crimes and probable genocide and get a boatload of cash and the love form the public!?”

Hernández nodded “there stock price has already tripled.”

Ericson paused asking “wait…how exactly did this war start?”

Hernández answered “the bug invaded Sorak 9…remember?”

Ericson nodded “yes but why did they invade?”

Hernández blinked “I don’t know…we just went to Defcon 1 and the council told us the bugs declared war…”

Ericson sighed “maybe this whole thing is rubbing me the wrong way…but something is up…I can feel it.”

Hernandez nodded “yea I feel it to.”

  Editing room:

Kvella smiled at the camera trying to forget her boss telling her to delete the footage of that planet and never talk about it again as she said “welcome to this week’s ask SICON hour! This week’s question is from L’Bec of the Kalber….”

Dagger squad quarters:

The squad sat aimlessly trying not to think about the entire planet that was wiped out, Futuba sighed shifting from side to side as she half-heartedly tried to finish the cross word with T’Mai who himself was barely hiding his disgust with the council .

Depoint had a medical book in her hand but had been reading the same page for the last 3 hours her mind wondering back to devastation planet side.

Francis sat on his bunk staring into space as he thought about all those people…after a few minutes Futuba spook up quietly “we are good guys…right?”

The squad stayed quiet not having an answer.

do you think the council is evil!? why do you think the bug started? are our heroes on the right side?  let me know what you think! :D 

[tiemeupspidey]

Double Trouble

Series: Tom Holland Dad Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader 

Summary: Tom comes home to his son and daughter covered in chocolate. Reid and Evelynn are like Team Rocket, double trouble.

Warning: Swearing cause yah know, Tom

Word Count: 1,500+

A/N: Why I make these kind of imagines more often is because when I was younger the chemo I had damaged parts of me and I won’t be able to have kids unless a miracle happens. I’m living my future vicariously through my imagines when I type these FYI..

[Reader’s POV]

“Mum where is Daddy today?” your son Reid asks carrying a bag of chocolate in. Evelynn walking behind with her dragon stuffed animal. Her curls bouncing as she skips through the doorway. 

“Well he’s actually working today on set filming with Robbie J” you explain setting the groceries down on the table. Evelyn skips around the living room singing to herself.

“Evelynn darling be careful, Reid left toys laying out and about” your voice laced with warning. She halts to a stop looking over at you her curls falling in front of her eyes.

“I did not mum, I picked them up before we went out” Reid defends himself crossing his arms over his chest. Turning your head you look over at your son with a look.

“Reid Anderson Holland... Do you not see that mess in the living room? Your father will be home soon and I don’t want him to see this mess”  

“Mum that was Evelynn..” Reid whines pointing over at his twin sister.

“Don’t blame your sister, go clean up then we can bake your surprise for daddy okay?” resting your hands on your hips as you try and reason with him.

“mum... “ 

“Reid, get to it now please...”

“Yea-yeah Reid get to it” Evelynn’s voice comes from the living room. Looking through the window in the kitchen that opens to the living room. She places her hands on her hips mocking your actions.

“Yeah Evelynn” Reid mimics your actions as they both stick their tongues out at each other. The way they act together reminds you of how Sam and Harry are with each other. You would not let them babysit your kids again.

“Don’t get me started you two, cut it out” laughter escapes as you see them making faces at each other. Their laughter filling the air making you smile.Those two could be a handful but you love them regardless of what they do.

    Opening the cabinets you start grabbing ingredients that the three of you needed. Pulling out baking sheets from under the oven in a drawer. Setting them on top of the counter with everything else. Once everything was all set you pull up a recipe on your twelve inch IPad. The screen big enough so you could read the instructions.

“Mum I finished the living room, is daddy bringing work friends over for dinner tonight?” Reid asks as he walks into the kitchen. His eyes looking around the kitchen that was prepped and ready.

“Well you would have to give Harrison a call if daddy’s busy on set” you explain pulling your hair up into a ponytail. Evelynn comes over holding up her own hair tie. Brushing her curls out of her face you pull her hair back gently tying it up.

“Reid I wanna talk to Hazzie!” Evelynn pouts as you hand Reid your phone after clicking Harrison’s contact. Her hands trying to reach up but Reid holds the phone up higher.

“Hello?” you could hear Harrison’s voice fill the air.

“Hazzy! It’s your favourite Holland twin!” Evelynn shouts before Reid could respond.

“Evelynn! How are you sweets?” Harrison’s laughter fills the air through the speaker phone.

“Actually Hazzy,Reid and I were won-wondering if daddy and his work friends were coming over for dinner but help make cookies too! Robbie J’ is working with daddy today right?” Evelynn asks standing on her tip toes trying to speak into the phone that Reid held high.

   She pokes him in the stomach causing him to almost drop your phone. A wave of panic rushes over you as your phone falls. Surprisingly she catches it and runs over to you with it. Reid trying to get it out of her hands, Evelynn bumps into you causing you to cut your finger. Dropping the scissors onto the counter next to the bags.

“Bloody hell, shit that hurt” groaning as you see blood flowing from the wound.

“I’m sorry mumma.. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you” Evelynn looks up at you with a sad face,her lower lip trembling. Oh god that look could make an army weak.

“It’s just a little cut, don’t worry baby” you smile down at her, leaning down you give her head a swift kiss. A smile tugs at her lips erasing the tears that were about to form.

“What happened darling, you ‘lright?” you could tell it wasn’t Harrison but it was Tom’s voice now.

“Hey babe, I just sliced my finger with the scissors on accident.. The kids were asking if you were bringing your work friends over to bake some sweets and have dinner?” You ask while rinsing the blood off with the water from the tap. Drying your hands off you check the food you had in the oven.

“I can ask around, now are you two behaving? Robbie J’ just said he has gifts but do the Holland twins deserve them?” Tom asks through the phone, you could tell he had a smile on his face. He loved calling them the Holland twins.

“Well we deserve them more than Spider-Man deserves the suit” Reid retorts earning a snicker from you. In the background you could hear Robert laughing at what was just said.

“Yeah what Reid said! Robbie J’ loves us!” Evelynn retorts with a smile on her face.

“Oh shut your trap Downey!” the twins giggle looking at each other from their father’s reaction to Robert laughing.

“We’ll be over in thirty minutes, save some chocolate chips for Robbie J!” Robert’s voice comes from the phone making the twins smile.

“Alright you two, see you soon.. Hope there’s enough food darling” Tom lets out a nervous chuckle.

“I always cook extra babe, I love you” 

“Love you more,see you guys soon” the line going dead shortly after, Reid hands your phone back.

“Mumma did you hear that! Robbie J is coming to bake with us!” Reid and Evelynn shout at the same time.

“Jinx” they grin pointing their fingers at one another.

“Okay you two now lets get the molding tins you want okay?” Picking up the bag you pull out the options for them to choose from.

-

“Now this chocolate is melted and we will pour it into here ok-” your sentence being cut off as you heard voices fill the air.

“Use the spoons okay? Don’t rush you two.. I’ll be back to see how it’s going” Kissing them both on their heads you make your way towards the living room.

    Seeing Tom, Sebastian,Anthony, Robert, and Harrison in the living room. Wiping your hands on your waist apron you greet them all. Tom pulls you into a big hug with a smile on his face. He gives you a quick kiss making you smile. Robert walks in and sets two bags on the ground near the fireplace. 

“Lynn! that’s too mu- hey cut it out!” Reid’s voice is heard from the living room causing everyone to look through the kitchen window. You couldn’t see them but could only hear them.

“No you cut it out! See this is why I’m daddy’s favorite!” Evelyn retorts as a splat sound echoes from the kitchen.

“Now you’ve done it! Ha look at your face now!” Laughter comes from Reid making you and Tom look at each other. The time they act up is now in front of people.

“At least it doesn’t look re-rediculous like yours! I’m the pretty twin” Evelynn’s voice getting louder. A blur of brown flies through the air. Looking against the wall that is now dripping in chocolate. 

“Oh my lord” you groan running towards the kitchen. Sebastian laughter fills the air along with Anthony’s.

“Sure are your kids Tom, did they not have their juice today?”

“Fuck off you shits” Tom laughs shoving them as they slung their arms over his shoulders.

“Thomas, language” your head turning to look back at him with a glare.

“Daddy said shit!” the twins shout simultaneously.

“Evelynn and Reid Holla- the chocolate is supposed to go in those plastic molds, not on you!” you burst out in laughter seeing the twins covered in chocolate streaks. Their eyes wide as they’re caught in the act.

“Darling, how bout you get them washed up.. I’ll clean the kitchen then we can all eat together yeah?” turning around embarrassed at all the eyes looking at your destroyed kitchen and dirty children.

“Y-yeah that sounds great, sorry everyone” letting out a sigh you look back at your twins. Reid smacks another blob of chocolate on Evelynn making Robert let out a laugh. 

“I needed a laugh after that shoot today, damn Holland you created some jokesters” Robert teases nudging Tom causing him to smile. Running his fingers through his curls out of habit.

“We love you momma” the twins say looking up at you innocently.

“Oh jeez, I can’t stay mad at you two.. now lets get you all cleaned up then we can eat yeah?” Guiding them out of the kitchen and towards the guest bedroom down the hall.

“This definitely won't be the end of this..” Tom groans looking around the kitchen.

“Prepare for trouble,make it double” Harrison teases grabbing a wet rag.

A/N: Pt.2? Who likes Evelynn & Reid? :,)

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #284

"Karla Releases Sammn, Evil In The Flesh, Ever And The Crafting Table”

-It's the end of the second week, by now Sammn was essentially physical-

[Lie] - Doc...  Do you want me to call Ever?

[Doc] I think that depends on Sammn. How do you feel?

[Sammn] - shrugs groggily - Less sleepy, just sorta out of it, but not. Still can't belive I did all that.

[Lie] - It gave us quite the scare...

[Sammn] - sighs deeply - I am very sorry. I had no idea something was inside me, causing all these issues.

[Sammn] - Wish I knew how or why it's there, might help get rid of it.

[Doc] Lie seems to think her new friend has the answer. So we'll see.

[Lie] - The choice is yours Sammn

[Sammn] Call them, I'm more of a danger like this to everybody. Plus if it's gone, maybe... I'll remember something.

[Lie] Nods and grabs her phone, dialing Ever's number-

[Ever] Picks up the phone and there's cooking sounds in the background- Yellow?

[Lie] - Hey, you guys terribly busy?

[Ever] Well I was making dinner but I can accommodate company. What did you have in mind?

[Lie] - Our friend is awake and fully physical now, she'd like to see if the thing inside of her can be removed

[Ever] Oh. Did you get the... animals?

[Lie] - The spawn eggs I can easily get right now

[Ever] Can we beg some food for them off of you as well? I can go out tomorrow and get everything else, but it's late afternoon here.

[Lie] - Absolutely, do you want the horses right away?  Or the eggs so you can spawn them when you want?

[Ever] You can do that?! Whoops! - There's a plunking noise like a ladle falling into liquid- Dammit! Just... just come over. I can't do this with the phone balanced.

[Lie] - Computer free?

[Ever] Pretty sure. Just go out the opposite door of that room and I'm down the hall on the left-

[Doc] Jumps a little as hir own phone goes off- Uh-huh... yeah.. oh... I'll be.. yes, I'll come right home. Lie...? Deerheart's having a small technical issue. Can you handle this without me?

[Lie] - See you in a few minutes then Ever- She hangs up- Yeah, absolutely Doc

[Doc] Thank you. - Xe goes around and turns off a few things to prep the bunker to leave it alone and empty again. - Do you need anythign before I leave?

[Lie] - Yeah actually, some horse spawn eggs and a few bales of hay

[Doc] Okay? Here- Xe takes the items out of creative and passes them to her.

[Lie] - Thanks- She puts them in her inventory

[Sammn] - stands and watches, rubbing her arms -

[Lie] - You ready to go Sammn?

[Sammn[ - nods -

[Lie] Goes over to the tv and creates an opening, holding her hand out to Sammn-

[Sammn] -swallows nervously and joins her - Let's hope this works.

[Lie] - Bye Doc, we'll see you...  well, we'll see you.  I don't know how long this will take- She guides Sammn through and out the computer on the other side, helping her out

-The black leaved tree almost seems to inhale their aura as they come out of the computer and then settle back into the fragrant soil that's been heaped up around it's trunk.

[Lie] Can smell the food Ever is making- Come on, let's introduce you to Karla and Ever- She follows Ever's directions to the kitchen

[Sammn] - follows, distractedly as she feels like something is lurking behind her -

[Ever] Is bustling. He's made a pot of soup that's thick with onions and beef and he's buttering slices of bread with a garlic paste. - Oh hey, there you are. Who's your friend?

[Lie] - Ever, this is Sammn

[Sammn] - looks around before settling gaze on him - Hello

[Ever] Makes a failed attempt to smooth his pointy blonde hair and the silver ring on the collar he's wearing jingles merrily. - Nice to meet you. I'd shake hands but I've been cutting onions.

[Sammn] Its alright, I'm not the diva myself. - Her black and white hair is a wild mess, her blue dress has seen better days, its still stained with blood. Pale as snow, with odd solid purple eyes, she tries to be friendly and smile at him. -

[Lie] - Is Karla preparing?

[Ever] Notices her eyes and the blood and pauses - Are you.. a creepypasta?

[Sammn] Creepy pasta? No.

[Ever] Oh. - To Lie- Yes and no? I don't know what you want her to make. But we have the materials.

[Lie] - You guys are the experts here

[Ever] Well... lets eat first, and we can talk. Nothing formal. [It's a large kitchen and there are stools around the island in the center]  I'll get Karla. -There's already a stack of bowls and plates and such on the counter-

[Lie] Grabs the bowls and fills them for her and Sammn- You're actually probably pretty hungry Sammn

[Ever] I'll be right back.

[Sammn] - not fully paying attention, but grabs the bowl and stares at it. - Yeah... somewhat. Can I ask what this is?

[Lie] - Soup, it should warm you up

[Sammn] - sniffs cautiously, then tries a sip - Not bad.

[Lie] Sits at the island- Go ahead, sit down

[Sammn] - moves to a stool and sits, but only gets a mouthful or two before stopping to look around and listen -

[Lie] - Sammn?  Everything okay?

[Sammn] - cocks her head to the side, listening - Not sure. I hear something.

[Lie] - What do you hear?

[Sammn] - looks over to the doorway - Whispering.

[Lie] Reaches for Sammn's hand- Do you want any of my flowers?

[Sammn] - her hand is cold and she's shaking - Yes. Quickly... they are getting louder.

[Lie] Spawns her calming flowers all around Sammn, even putting a very short wall of Xophiel's fire around Sammn- It's alright, I'm right here

[Sammn] - wraps arms around her - Yeah, but what else is here. As soon as we got here, I felt something ... following us.

[Lie] - I don't know, Karla does have an interest in the occult...

[Sammn] - tries to keep calm and struggles to eat some more - I really hope this helps. I don't want to think what will happen otherwise.

[Karla] Walks into the kitchen with a creak of boot leather, hir long silver braid thrown over one shoulder. Her scarred face creses slightly- Why it the floor covered with fire and foliage?

[Ever] Runs around her and starts trying the swat the fire out with a wet dishtowel- Oh NO!

[Lie] - Ah!  It's alright, those are my flames!  And my flowers!  They aren't actually hurting anything!

[Sammn] - flinches and drops her spoon, splattering the counter with soup -

[Ever] Oh.... sorry. - reaches down to straighten a flower he accidently stepped on.

[Lie] - It's alright, the flowers would have calmed you eventually

[Sammn] Sorry... sorry... I - is totally distracted watching something move in the shadows behind everyone -

[Ever] Is still a little shaky and grabs some food. Prepping a bowl and some bread for Karla as well.

[Karla] Looks her slowly up and down and her expression softens slightly - you're the one who wants my help, aren't you? I've been where you are.

[Sammn] - blinks and refocuses on Karla - I... I think so, maybe...

[Karla] I wonder if those eyes will clear afterwards... - she sits down smoothly and takes her food.

[Ever] scarfs his happily, occasionally staring at the fire and plants-

[Lie] Finishes her food and strokes one of the closest flowers which eagerly responds to her-

[Sammn] - turns back to her bowl and stares at it, trying to ignore everything around her as best as she can -

[Karla] Eat, you'll need your strength.

[Ever] So... what does it look like?

[Sammn] Limbs, a lot of them. Hooves, claws, hands, tentacles, all black as shadows, but liquid.

[Ever] That's gonna be hard....

[Karla] I cannot sew liquid. It merely needs to be a suitible shape to contain the thing.

[Sammn] - stares at the soup - It has form, a black mass, a blob. They come from it, but only when the mouths whisper.

[Karla] Just a blob? That I can do in one night. - Eats contentedly-

[Sammn] - the soup swirls and glorps, thin strands of black start leaking up - Yeah, sure...

[Ever] Finishes first - I'll go get the materials-

[Karla] Good. - Watches his rear as he goes then turns to Sammn - Dare I ask why your clothes are bloody?

[Sammn] - watches the soup - We died.

[Karla] Then we have something else in comon.

[Lie] - I've died once, do not want to repeat

[Karla] Turns to Lie, and the huge scar beneath her shirt is visible through the neckline as she turns - You seem such a delicate flower. Did you learn from it?

[Lie] - Yeah, let my far more murdery and battle trained husband tend to his seed when there's a murderous NOTCH running around... Oh and being stabbed and deleted really hurts

[Karla] Nods knowingly and dots her lips with a napkin.

[Lie] - I was so panicked I actually forgot to summon my defense

[Karla] I think you've never been in a war. It gives you instincts you never truly forget.

[Sammn] War is hell, neither side wins.

[Lie] - Nope, never had to truly fight until CP dragged me in

[Karla] Rubs her gloved hands together thoughtfully- The most we can hope for as individuals is to escape with our true selves intact...

[Lie] - Well considering how a good chunk of my memories are just gone...

[Karla] That's a pity.

[Lie] - No, it was my choice.  I gave all my happy memories from before I was brought into the game to a god.  It helped make my decision to stay in the game easier

[Sammn] - whispers - Nisi victor est, qui metet animas.

[Lie] - Sammn?  Are you feeling okay?

[Sammn] - blinks and looks up - I think I remembered something, but it doesn't make sense.

[Lie] - Well you were just speaking that other language again...

[Sammn] - The only winner is those who reap the souls...

[Lie] - Well at least you understood what you were saying

[Sammn] Yeah, but why would I know or even say that? That's the part I don't understand.

[Karla] I don't think He considers it a win. It's just his job.

[Ever] Comes back with a clear jar containing a white cotton packet and a ball of foil- I found the spares.

[Lie] Looks at it- Do you need a rose?

[Karla] Turns to her quickly and her eyes narrow- why did you ask me if you already know the method?

[Lie] - I don't, but I recognize that set up.  It's what Dawn made for us when we went to...  Well, resurrect somebody long dead.  She had me make a rose for it

[Sammn] - stares at Ever, the feeling of something lurking is back tenfold, along with the whispering - What is that for?

[Ever] Is a little excited and it's unnerving- It's a heart and a brain.

[Karla] Stands up - shall we get started?

[Lie] - Where do you want us?

[Karla] The study. I need to do a little sewing first.

[Ever] Come on! I'll show you!

[Lie] - Okay- Offers her hand to Sammn

[Sammn] - takes effort to move, but finally manages to grab her hand - Whatever you are going to do, do it soon. The whispering is scared.

[Karla] Darkly - Good.

[Ever] Leads them around the curving hallway into the study. The fireplace isn't lit at the moment and some of the tables have been pushed to the walls. The couch looks as over-stuffed and inviting as ever.

[Lie] Dismisses the fire-

[Karla] Kicks over a bolt of denim, unrolling it on the floor, and slices it with a razor into large lozenge shapes. She adds a few skinny triangles as well and starts aggressively pinning it together.

[Ever] Watches her with love in his eyes.

[Lie] Sits on the couch- Lean on me if you need to Sammn

[Karla] Warms up a huge sewing machine with a loud thrumm and feeds the fabric through it in practiced motions.

[Sammn] - follows numbly and slowly sinks into the couch, unable to tear her eyes from watching Karla -

[Karla] Turns the heavy skin out and motions for Ever. The two of them drag out a trash bag of shredded rubber tire bits and stuff the cloth bag with fistfuls of it.

[Lie] Makes certain to keep in contact with Sammn, trying to keep her calm-

[Karla] Will you be able to provide suitible... restraints... if it gets out of hand Lie?

[Lie] Blushes a little remembering what happened the first time- Yes, I can

[Karla] Then we'll work in here. - she roughly forces the foil and cloth packets inside the bag and closes the last seam. It looks like an evil beanbag chair with tentacles.

[Sammn] - is shivering, radiating cold. Any shadows in the room deepen and a faint sound like wind moving leaves can be heard -

[Karla] Leaves the room and comes back with a box and a knife. She threads a needle and sticks it through the fabric of her shirt to keep it handy. - Sammn? Are you prepared?

[Ever] Leaves briefly as well to get a fruit from the tree and cradles it gently-

[Sammn] - stands - No, but do it... quickly.

[Lie] Watches nervously-

[Karla] Indicates the floor beside the bag- Kneel please-

[Sammn] - stumbles forward a few steps then stops, her head lowered. The temp drops enough frost is starting to form on the floor around her. She speaks, but it's not her voice, but many - Temptress prohibere tua stultitia.

[Lie] Leans forwards a little, ready to summon her vines-

[Karla] Chuckles- that's not going to help you now. - She takes the knife and slashes a hole in the bag with it. Then reverently holds the fruit of the tree aloft and cracks it against the flat of the knife. It breaks like an egg and the whitish sludge inside is full of tiny black seeds. She dribbles the contents into the gash and sews it back up again as quickly as humanly possible with large looping stitches-

-The thing seems to shift in the shadows-

[Lie] Her focus is on Sammn-

[Sammn/?] PROHIBERE! - she snarls, drawing both combat knives and lunging toward Karla -

[Lie] Vines shoot up out of the ground to tangle around Sammn- Shit!  I forgot she had knives!- As soon as the vines make contact, they begin to frost over a little

[Karla] Barely bats an eye. She takes the box and opens it reverently. Inside is a very large dark gray feather that's exhuding a bluish aura. - Do you know who I stole this from, demon?

[Sammn/?] - is screeching loud enough to be painful. The ice spreads across the floor and over Lie's vines, withering them - HOC PUER EST MEUM, ET LOCUTUS EST AD ME!

[Lie] - Looks around a bit frantic- EVER!  THE FIRE! LIGHT IT!

[Ever] Huh? Okay?! - He rushes to the fireplace, squirting lighter fluid on the logs and fumbling with the matches-

[Karla] Does a palmstrike on Sammns forehead with her free hand-

[Lie] Adds more vines to Sammn as some crack and break away-

[Sammn/?] NULLA! NOS NON ERIT CAPTI ITERUM! UNUM LOCUTUS EST NOBIS MORTEM ET SANGUINEM ANIMARUM! - the voices rise to even louder pitch -

[Karla] She brandishes the feather like a weapon and sweeps it across Sammn's brow, gathering up the entites on it's angelic bristles-

[Ever] Gets the fire lit-

[Lie] Focuses on the fire, letting her powers merge with it nicely this time- Let's hope this isn't as stinky as last time- With a burst of energy dark red vines flow from the fire, their heat a contrast to Sammn's cold as they grapple for a hold on her

[Sammn/?] - the voices scream in pain and rage. There is a deeper voice underlying the whole mess - NOS SUNT LEGIO! REGERE NON POTES NOBIS!

[Karla] Grins wickedly as she pulls the feather and the entities away from Sammn- Rette deine Bitten für die Engel. Schmutziges interloper.

[Voice/?] - screams unintelligibly, as the whole room shakes. A black mist forms around Sammn and follows the movement of the feather -

[Karla] Carries the feather across the gap and wipes the mist off the feather against the cloth of the sack before stepping back-

- Like a switch, the voices disappear and the warmth floods back into the space -

[Lie] Quickly removes the vines, ready to catch Sammn if necessary-

[Karla] Puts the feather away and watches the bag as it opens several red eyes and begins to move-

[Voice/?] - the eyes swivel around, all finally focusing on Karla. A single mouth appears below one of the eyes and it speaks in a deep raspy voice - Quid fecisti nobis?

[Ever] It can talk? The others never could....

[Sammn] - crumples, gasping for breath - It... wants to... know, what... what you did to it...

[Karla] Evicted it.

[Lie] Grabs Sammn, guiding her to the couch-

[Voice/?] - Several of the eyes blink, as they open they all look different. Some are different colors, a few clearly not human looking. The thing shudders and wails. - Carcerem nobis!

[Karla] Excuse me? If that's some sort of complaint then you shouldn't have possessed someone in the first place.

[Sammn] - looks up at the thing, scowling - Speak something... other than a dead language. You can, I know it.

[Karla] Puts her hands on her hips expectantly- Yes, let's see what you have to say for yourself.

[Lie] - If it's body weren't made of the materials it's made out of, I would absolutely have one of my pods bite it

[Karla] I don't think that would have any effect either.

[Voice/?] - whines, slowly wiggling a few tentacles - wE wErE pRomIsEd fReEdOm

[Ever] By who?

[Voice/?] tHe oThEr...fOuNd uS...sToLe uS...forced uS...pRoMiSeD uS bLoOd, sOuLs fOr oUr aRmY

[Karla] Well that's unfortunate for you then. So... shall vhe take it out and test zhe wunderwaffe on it?

[Voice/?] - writhes tentacles - pRoMiSeD uS, tHe child sAvEd oUr pRiZe! sAvEd hIm!

[Karla] Ignores it and addresses Sammn - Well?

[Sammn] - stares at the creature, thinking - Saved its prize... saved him. I did something, I had to.... he was hurt.

[Ever] Sounds like there was a deal and they included you without permission Sammn.

[Voice/?] oUr wHiTe eYeS! yOu tOoK uS iNsTeAd! rObBeD!

[Lie] - Now that part I understand, it has something to do with your brine

[Karla] So... no target practice? Damn.

[Sammn] - shakily stands up and marches toward it - How did I rob you?

[Lie] - If you really want to shoot at something Karla...   I might be able to convince CP to spawn some zombies for you

[Karla] Slides over to Lie - Perhaps. But for now I'm more interested in the tribute you brought me.

[Voice/?] - it whines again, reaching out toward her - tOoK tHe bLoW iNsTeAd, dEaTh sHoUlD hAvE cLaImEd yOu, hE sAvEd yOu aS yOu sAvEd HiM.

[Lie] - The horses?  I've got the spawn eggs on me right now

[Karla] Wonderful, once this is sorted out, we should go out and.... 'spawn' them.

[Lie] - Sure, I've got hay for them as well

[Sammn] - stares at it, then looks around the room, stopping to watch Lie and Karla. She kneels down just out of reach - The Imposter... the battle at Capital City.... he trapped you and planned on using you to curse, and.... I took the blow instead.

[Voice/?] - blinks all of its eyes - yEs!

[Karla] It appears you have remembered something?

[Sammn] - stands - Damn me nine ways to the Nether, its coming back slowly. What do we do with this thing?

[Karla] Kill it?

[Ever] Please don't leave it here....

[Voice/?] - screams -

[Karla] That's annoying.

[Sammn] I think we better not, it might be of some use. Plus... I think killing it, might free it.

[Karla] Is pretending to be agravated by this.

[Lie] Is thinking-

[Sammn] Anyone have something we can shove it into? I really don't want to touch it.

[Karla] Like what? A larger bag?

[Ever] Theres plenty of rope in my room....

[Sammn] A chest?

[Lie] - Hang on, I've got wood on me if you really think that will work

[Sammn] Can't hurt, plus that way no one else will come into contact with it either.

[Lie] Fashions a crafting table real quick and puts it down before crafting a double chest- Here we go

[Karla] Is boggling a bit at what Lie just did - what an... interesting table...

[Sammn] - takes chest and slowly scoops the thing into it. It wiggles and squirms, but is shut up inside -

[Lie] - It's a crafting table, it's how we make things in game

[Karla] Touches it gingerly and examines the block from all sides-

[Ever] Was watching Sammn but gets distracted- that's neat!

[Sammn] - sighs - Lie, can you send me back. I.... need time to think.

[Lie] - Sure, let's head back to the computer- She heads for the tree room so she can make an opening

[Karla] Follows her quietly-

[Sammn] - stows the chest in her inventory and follows, her brain on automatic - This.. has been ... strange.

[Lie] - That seems to be daily life for us- She reaches the computer and creates an opening, the server can be seen on the other side- Sammn, get some rest, I think you'll actually be able to sleep well now

[Sammn] - nods and turns toward Karla. Her eyes are still solid purple, although now they faintly glow - Thank you for the help. - She does a strange salute to her and heads back -

[Karla] You're welcome.

[Lie] Once Sammn is through she shuts the opening- Alright, now where do you want me to spawn the horses

[Karla] Gives her a slow look, making her hyper aware of the fact that they're alone together. - Outside...

[Lie] - Lead the way

[Ever] Is playing with the crafting table because he's unsupervised.

[Karla] Leads Lie past the kitchen and out the back door. There's a small structure outside with open stalls but no gates. - I can add to it later. The whole yard is fenced in all the way around twelve feet high, as you saw.

[Lie] - Oh yes I did- She pulls out the spawn eggs and offers one to Karla- Would you like to try?

[Karla] Takes one curiously and turns the brown speckled egg in her hands, holding it in the light from the back door. - How odd...

[Lie] - Just tap it, lightly that is, on the ground

[Karla] Leans down and does as Lie suggests-

-A full sized paint horse pops into existence-

[Karla] Skips back but recovers quickly- Mein Gott! I mean... that's amazing...

[Lie] - That's the miracle of birth in our game, everything comes from an egg- She taps out another horse, this one is a chestnut-

[Karla] Holds out a hand so the horse can sniff it- Are they female? Male? Something else?

[Lie] - Both

[Lie] Taps the one she spawned with an egg and a black foal spawns- And this is what the babies look like

[Karla] They're lovely, especially in the moonlight. You said you had hay for them?

[Lie] - Oh right, where do you want me to put it?

[Karla] I guess in the mud room will have to suffice for now. Minus a snack for each of them of course. I'll fill the water buckets. It looks as though Ever will have quite the shopping list for tomorrow, fence parts and grains and medication- She takes up te hose and drags it to some buckets under the small structure, neatly filling them

[Lie] Pulls out some apples in her inventory, offering them to the horses before going to put the hay away-

[Karla] Comes back and approaches the horses again. It's clear from her manner that she knows what she's doing checking them over. - It's been so long... And they are so wonderful.

[Lie] - They won't die of old age either unless they take extreme damage

[Karla] Perfection.... Will the little one grow up?

[Lie] - Oh yes, one moment they will be a baby, the next, an adult

[Karla] Gives the small foal a bit of scratching on the neck- The world you live in is one to be envied my dear. It sounds like a bit of heaven.

[Lie] - Not always, nightly there are monsters which will attack if given the chance, and there's always the dangers in caves

[Karla] What do you have to defend yourself from such creatures?

[Lie] - Swords, bows, light, shelter, and our own brine powers

[Karla] Gives the lightest little sigh - Seeing as I've had to take a vow to hide myself from the world anyway... it still sounds... forgive me. I'm rambling.

[Lie] - No, it's alright.  Many have expressed the want to be there

[Karla] I hope your friend recovers.

[Lie] - I'm sure she'll be fine, she's strong.- A few flowers spring up by Lie's feet, sensing her currently calm energy

[Karla] More flowers? What kind are these?

[Lie] - Just flowers, but I have many that do have purposes

[Karla] They are pretty all the same. - Looks back at the horses, who are wandering a little bit, but slowly. - It will be a pleasure to teach my kitten to ride as well as be ridden...

[Lie] Blushes some- Speaking of flowers, I should probably clean up my plants inside, I kinda filled your kitchen with calming flowers...

[Karla] Will they break the tiles with their roots?

[Lie] - No, minecraft flowers don't really have roots

[Karla] Then just leave them for now. The one your friend brought back to life on my shelf has flourished quite nicely despite the absence of soil or even light.

[Lie] - Alright, although I should probably remove those new vines, I'm not sure what they'll do...

[Karla] Motions for her to lead the way-

[Lie] Heads back to the study entering and looking at the bit of a mess that she's made-

[Ever] Is exitedly waving around a wooden sword- It works!

[Karla] -Blink blink confusion-

[Lie] - Oh geez!  Where did you even get the wood planks!?

[Ever] Gestures towards the fireplace, where the stack of wood cords in the brass holder is a bit smaller now-

[Lie] Groans a little and goes over to her new vines, touching them and memorizing their feel so she can recreate them later- Well this will probably be useful again at some point...

[Ever] Is showing Karla what he did and pulls a wooden shovel off the table-

[Karla] Magick...

[Lie] Let's the vines retreat away- I really don't have an argument against that, especially since I know Flux

[Karla] Flux?

[Ever] Starts throwing things out of a box digging for something.

[Lie] - She's the embodiment of magic in the game itself

[Karla] I'm suprised you didn't have her work on your friend. It seems nothing is impossible for your kind.

[Ever] Arranges some flat rocks on the table and a furnace falls off and clunks heavily onto the floor. - WOOO!

[Karla] Ever!

[Lie] - She was able to bind it, but she's much more used to running a server

[Karla] Stares at Ever-

[Ever] Sorry Mistress.

[Karla] It's blocking the door.

[Lie] - Do you need me to move it?

[Karla] If you can, please. I think Ever is... getting a bit over-excited.

[Lie] Gets up and gives the furnace a few swats, breaking it into a smaller version of itself- Should I take away the crafting table too?

[Ever] Looks sad-

[Karla] Is it dangerous?

[Lie] - I mean, without redstone the more dangerous things won't work...  But pressure plates could always be used instead so maybe?

[Karla] Then go ahead. I think it's for the best.

[Ever] Sad meeping sound.

[Lie] - Ever, I can always let you into the game if you want to play with a crafting table- She swats it away

[Ever] oookay....

[smochiis]

dress me up, buttercup I four (m)

✩ pairing : hoseok x reader

✩ genre: idol+stylist!au, drama, humor

✩ warning: dirty talk, foodplay, little bit of body worship

✩ word count: 5.8k

✩ summary: There are nearly 1,000 reasons why mixing work and romance is a terrible idea. Unfortunately, Jung Hoseok makes it very hard for you to resist.

✩ chapters: one | two | three | four

✩ a/n: apologies for not updating for a while! I haven’t been here very long but I already have over 200 followers so as a thank you I’m dropping this chapter!! love you bunches~

The search for a new job proves relatively unfruitful in the beginning. You barely manage to stay afloat with the schedule from hell and what little time have, you’ve been spending it with Hoseok again -- and thankfully, the two of you have a nice way to relief your stress. Very nice. But this leaves you with little time to actually commit to your search.

 You usually try right before you go to bed, but you always end up falling asleep and waking up with a dead phone.

 And even on the rare occasion that you do have both time and energy to browse the online postings, none of the places you look at are ever hiring. You’re beginning to think that it’s a good thing you haven’t told any of the other staff you’re probably leaving because it’s looking like it might not work out.

 Which makes you anxious. Because if this fails, you don’t know if you and Hoseok have any other options besides going public -- which he has suggested.

 But you still don’t like that idea.

 You’ll definitely never be able to find a job on your own if that happens.

 Though as you have learned, it does pay to be patient. So you wait, hoping for the right opportunity to present itself. And as you’re sitting at the dinner table with Hoseok one night, shoveling a spoonful of pork and tofu into your mouth, your faithfulness is rewarded.

 Your eyes practically bulge when you see the Now Hiring link on JYP’s online website. Dropping your spoon, choking on your pork and tofu, you rapidly click on the link and scroll to the bottom of the site. They’re looking for a wardrobe stylist for the group Got7 and you waste no time in uploading your resume -- thankfully you have a copy of it saved on your phone.

 You can hardly believe your luck. It’s almost too good to be true but you don’t want to think about it too much lest you jinx yourself. Looking a gift-horse in the mouth and all that.

 But, still, you can’t help but imagine how perfect it would be.

 Got7 and BTS are acquaintances and frequently attend the same shows and award ceremonies. The boys are all friends and tend to hang out and you know they have multiple group chats. Plus, you’ve already met the Got7 members before so you don’t think you’ll have any trouble making the adjustment or fitting in.

 You’d likely see Hoseok every once in a while too, an added bonus.

 “Something wrong?” he asks, having first looked up when you dropped your spoon.

 You shake your head, unable to fight your smile as it practically splits your face in half. You scrape bits of pork and tofu off the table and into your hand as you say, “I just put in an application. Got7 is looking for a wardrobe stylist.”

 “Really?” Hoseok blinks, dimples denting the corners of his mouth. “That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, angel.” He stands up suddenly, leaning across the table to give you a soft, heartfelt kiss.

 You grin, kissing him back, before sitting down. “It’s not like I’m guaranteed the position,” you caution. “There’s probably lots of other highly qualified people applying for it too. I’m not getting my hopes up, but it would be nice, you know?”

 “Yeah,” he agrees. “Except for the part where Jackson flirts with you.”

 Knowing he’s only partly joking -- because you guys have definitely had a few “discussions” about his jealousy -- you just roll your eyes and keep eating.

 The next few weeks that pass are fairly uneventful.

 You’re not sure if it’s because it’s actually gotten better or if you’re just better at managing it, but the schedule from hell seems a little easier. You’re still so busy you can barely think, but you’re not nearly as drained at the end of the day. And thankfully, it appears Hoseok feels the same way.

 Though your dates do start ending earlier because he can’t keep making excuses as to why he stays out all night.

 Still, you feel refreshed and happy when you’re working. So does Hoseok, even when you’re with Hojun who is very close to completing his internship. During a small break in filming one day, he begins showing you pictures on his phone of the places he wants to visit in celebration.

 Hoseok watches the two of you, but there’s no malice in his gaze.

 Even so, you decide to put his suspicions to rest once and for all in the name of compromise.

 Hojun scrolls to a tropical resort and you fake a wince. “Ah, I love places like that. But my boyfriend doesn’t because of the snakes,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

 The intern pauses. Then he licks his lips, glances around, and leans forward like he’s about to share a secret. “Mine either,” he mumbles.

 You can’t help yourself -- you explode with laughter so loud that you draw attention from everyone within your immediate vicinity. Including Hoseok, who pegs you with a confused stare, mouthing, “What?” over and over again. And poor Hojun, you have to assure him that you’re not laughing at him.

 “No, you just reminded me of something funny,” you manage, wiping your eyes.

 For the rest of the day, Hoseok bugs you about it. Desperate to know what had you laughing so hard. But you don’t know whether or not you should tell him -- his ego is a little fragile. Maybe you’ll tell him sometime in the future, but the idea keeps you entertained for so long that you actually forget about your application for a little while.

 The call comes while you’re busy prepping Hoseok for a broadcast. You have to let it ring and it isn’t until your lunch break that you check your phone. It isn’t a number you recognize and you’re about to disregard it completely until Hojun peeks over your shoulder.

 “Oh, noona, you have a missed call from JYP Entertainment,” he says with surprise.

 You almost spit out your iced coffee. “This is their number?” you rasp, blotting your mouth with a napkin.

 The intern nods and takes a bite of his sandwich. “Yeah. I put in an application with them a little while ago and saved their number just in case they called.” Then he pauses and looks at you. “Why are they calling you?”

 You suppose your sheepish smile is answer enough and he goes back to eating, mumbling something about being thankful he applied to other places too. You’re too nervous and excited to finish your lunch, hitting redial.

 A woman answers on the third ring. Nervously, you give her your name and explain that you missed their call.

 “Sorry to call you during the middle of the day like this. You must be busy,” she states.

 Your stomach jumps as you hastily assure her that it’s more than fine. Even though you are busy. So busy that your lunch break will undoubtedly be cut short. But that’s not like it matters now because no matter the outcome of this phone call, you’ll be too anxious to eat.

 “My name is Nari and I’m part of JYP’s management office,” she officially introduces. “I see you’ve submitted an application as a wardrobe stylist on our website. Your background and references are excellent and we would like to invite you to an interview.”

 Everything in the background fades to white noise at that very last word. Interview.

 “Do you have some time later this week?” Nari asks.

 “Yes!” You shoot up to your feet, startling poor Hojun. Then you clear your throat and say a little calmer, “I mean, yes, of course. What day works best for you?”

 You and Nari select a date and time with minimal fuss. And she’s more than willing to work around your schedule, which you make sure to tell her you appreciate. Then you’re hanging up and slowly sinking back into your seat, the world around you feeling surreal.

 Did that really just happen?

 “Noona?” Hojun waves a hand in front of your face.

 You blink and then you’re jumping back up. “I have to go talk to Hoseok. Go ahead and finish my lunch!” you tell him on your way out the door.

 And vaguely, you can hear his response of, “But I don’t like potato salad!”

 Your timing couldn’t be better as you sprint-walk back into the studio. The boys are being released for a five minute break and you make a beeline for Hoseok, who spots you immediately and moves to meet you halfway. He reaches up and yanks on his tie so that it’s crooked.

 Giving you an excuse to be near each other.

 “What’s the matter? Something happen?” he asks while you undo the silk Gitman Brothers with a smile.

 You straighten and smooth the tie, pretending to concentrate. “I guess you could say that,” you muse in an attempt to be nonchalant. But your excitement is too huge and you can’t hold back the grin on your face as it betrays you. “I got a call back from JYP. They want to interview me later this week!”

 Hoseok’s laugh is both startled and amazed, his dimples popping out. “How could they not? You’re obviously the best!” And then he’s tugging you into a fierce hug and for a moment, the two of you forget where you are.

 You wrap your arms around his neck and you don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like you can feel how proud he is. How happy he is. How he’s fallen in love with you just a little bit more.

 You’re not sure it’s possible, but you think you do too.

 Catching an odd look from one of the other stylists -- Jungkook’s -- you quickly realize your mistake and the two of you separate sheepishly. You go back to “fixing” Hoseok’s tie, and you can feel Jungkook’s curious stare boring into your back, but your grins remain bright as ever. And when you send Hoseok off to film again, he’s all but glowing.

  That night, Hoseok insists on celebrating. Even though it’s not one of your set date-nights. He’s supposed to go bowling with the boys but he says he can always go with them next week. You’re not sure how you feel about it, since you hate making him blow off his friends. Especially when he already spends so much of his free time with you.

 But then you remind yourself, you aren’t making him do anything. And you know you won’t be able to change his mind so you don’t fight it too hard.

 When he arrives, he rings the doorbell. Which confuses you because he knows your passcode. But when you open the door, and see the fancy bottle of wine and big box of chocolates in his arms, you understand.

 Your heart is a useless pile of mush as you step aside to let him in. “It’s not like I actually got the job. It’s just an interview,” you laughingly tell him.

 Hoseok kicks off his shoes and hands you the, obviously expensive, gifts before tugging down his trademark mask and leaning in for a kiss. “If they called you for an interview then you’ve technically already made it through like one or two rounds, which is celebration worthy,” he says matter-of-factly and takes off his hat to ruffle his freshly-showered hair. “And besides,” he continues with a heart-shaped smile, “I very rarely get the chance to spoil you.”

 And spoil you, he does.

 The two of you crack open the wine, a Recioto della Valpolicella, and feast on the assorted chocolates. Though you normally aren’t one for red wines, this one is very sweet and mixes well with chocolate. And the combination is heaven on your tongue, a soothing warmth in your veins.

 “I did my research,” Hoseok brags when you moan happily and take another sip.

 After working through almost half the box, you and Hoseok curl up together on the couch to watch a movie that he brought -- The Notebook. It’s one of your more peculiar common interests, you’ll admit, but you’re happy he enjoys it as much as you. Actually, as you’ve noticed, he tends to select more sensitive movies on his own which you amusedly think suits him very well.

 But whereas you’re wholly invested in the melodramatic romance on the screen, sipping your wine and nibbling your chocolates, Hoseok keeps picking up his phone.

 Noticing the furrow in his brow, you shift in his lap. “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing.” He quickly puts his phone down. But when you don’t look away, he sighs. “Jungkook has been pestering me about our hug today.”

 Suddenly, the movie is nothing but background noise. Nerves make your stomach flip and you set your wine on the coffee table. “Do you think he knows?”

 “I think he’s suspicious,” Hoseok says. “And you know how he is. He’ll keep digging and poking until he knows for sure.”

 “And once he knows, the others will know,” you finish, biting your lip.

 You and Hoseok didn’t plan to keep your relationship secret from his friends. It just happened as a result of keeping it a secret from everyone else. And in Hoseok’s words, the less they know, the less they have to keep secret themselves. Though you know that it still kills him to keep something so huge from them.

 They’re his second family.

 Having to constantly make excuses for his whereabouts and odd night trips, and sometimes having to outright lie to them… You can’t imagine what it’s like. You know you wouldn’t be able to do it, the guilt would eat you alive.

 “One way or another, they’ll eventually find out. It’s just a matter of time,” Hoseok sighs again.

 You nod. “Yeah. Hopefully I’ll have my new job set up before they do, so it won’t be so weird.”

 You don’t know if you could go to work every day and look them in the eye after they find out. Because, Hoseok, they’ll forgive. But you? You’re just a stylist to the other boys.

 “Mm.” Hoseok nuzzles the top of your head. “And then I can finally brag to them about how amazing and wonderful and beautiful my girlfriend is. It’s been so hard not to rub it in their faces,” he mumbles, dropping a kiss to your shoulder.

 “If I didn’t know any better,” you murmur, rolling your head to the side to give him room, “I’d say you’re trying to seduce me.”

 “Am I that transparent?”

 His mouth moves up the curve of your shoulder to your neck, lightly rubbing back and forth. “Maybe a little,” you admit in a slightly higher pitch. Your eyes close automatically and your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as he continues to tease you with feather-light brushes.

 Hoseok kisses your pulse. “I just can’t help myself around you. You’re too beautiful,” he says.

 “I’m in my pajamas,” you quip wryly.

 “I love when you wear your pajamas. It’s sexy.” He grins against your skin when you snort out a laugh. “Angel, you could wear a goddamn paper bag and I’d still think you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 Coming from any other man, you would immediately scoff and roll your eyes. Men will say anything when they’re horny. But Hoseok… You know him so well by this point that you know he means every word of that. If you show up at work tomorrow in a paper bag, he’ll still think you’re perfect and amazing and try to steal some kisses.

 Love makes the weirdest things acceptable.

 “You’re a horrible flirt,” you tell him. But, when he pulls away from your neck to look at you with that smile, you know you wouldn’t change it about him.

 Cupping the corner of your jaw with one hand, your waist with his other, Hoseok pulls you in for a kiss. Your favorite kind -- the slow, passionate kind that starts as small touches of lip and tongue and builds into slanting mouths and heavy breathing. All the emotions kindled in your chest are poured out through your lips in a beautiful, wordless exchange that few have the privilege of knowing.

 Your fingers comb through his hair and his thumb strokes your jawline and he smiles into your mouth. “Lay down, angel,” he murmurs against your swollen lips.

 The two of you shift until your back sinks into the couch, neck propped by a pillow. But your couch is small, not exactly designed for extra curricular activities, and so Hoseok is stuck half kneeling next to you, half underneath you, with your legs draped across him.

 “Here?” you ask.

 Your couch might be a little too cramped for whatever he has in mind. But Hoseok just grins.

 “Relax, leave it all to me.” He leans down and captures your lips, his fingers falling to the buttons of your pajama shirt. Hoseok’s mouth is soft and his fingers are swift and your chest is suddenly exposed to the cool air of your apartment, making your skin prickle.

 You suppress a shiver, licking into his mouth.

 “Arms,” he whispers, kissing the corner or your mouth.

 Wordlessly, you lift up one arm and then the other so he can slip your pajama top off. But he leaves it underneath you like a blanket, protecting your bare skin from the chill of your leather couch. You sigh happily as he loves the line of your jaw, covering it with soft kisses, and as he drags his lips down your neck and throat. He kisses every inch of your skin, making it flush under his lips.

 You’re reminded of just how meticulous he can be as he spends countless minutes moving his mouth against your throat. It feels like ages before he makes it to your collarbone and once there, he sucks hard three times, quickly licking the bruise left behind.

 With Hoseok, there’s no such thing as too much foreplay.

 And you consider yourself lucky that he seems to like it so much -- many of your past loves were all too eager to skip these steps. But not Hoseok. He relishes watching you slowly get turned on, coming alive in his arms and under his mouth. To him, it’s almost as good as the sex itself.

 And god knows you’ll never get enough of his touch.

 Your body is hot and uncomfortable when Hoseok leans back up. His mouth is red and swollen, his cheeks flushed, and you know you must look the same. But there’s a mischievous gleam in his brown eyes that you recognize and you lay there while he leans up and over you, rustling around behind your head, before coming back.

 With a piece of chocolate between his fingers.

 He presses it to your lips, saying, “Open,” and pops it into your mouth when you comply. The chocolate is milky and sweet, melting almost instantly and you moan. “Good?” he asks.

 You nod, savoring the taste.

 “Good.”

 His mouth is back on your collar bone, leaving open kisses down to your cleavage while his fingers fiddle with your bra straps. You arch your back just enough for him to slip his hands beneath you and undo the hooks, sliding off your bra completely. He doesn’t waste time, immediately pulling a nipple into his mouth while he moulds your breasts with careful hands.

 He kisses and plays with them, enjoying your soft sighs and low moans. Your nails lightly scratch his scalp in encouragement when he switches breasts, showering them both with attention.

 They’re wet with his saliva and dotted with bruises by the time he decides it’s enough and you’re squirming underneath him. Hoseok chuckles, kisses the valley of your cleavage before moving down your sternum, dragging his lips all the way to your navel where his tongue swirls patterns on your skin.

 But where you expect him to continue his downward path, he suddenly pulls back. You’re about to ask him why when he leans over your head again and returns with another piece of chocolate.

 Rather than putting it in your mouth, however, he lowers the small square to your chest with a grin.

 You watch, lifting a brow, as he begins to trace patterns on your skin. “Really?”

 “Chocolate is good for your skin,” Hoseok hums, not looking at you. “Plus, it’s an aphrodisiac.”

 You definitely don’t need the help of an aphrodisiac, you think. Hoseok and his wickedly talented fingers and tongue are more than enough to turn you on. He’s only kissed you and petted you and already you’re itching to tear off your panties.

 But still, you let him play with the chocolate.

 At first it’s nothing but a smooth, interesting sensation. He traces your nipples and outlines your breasts, treks down to your navel and dips it inside. You don’t really see the appeal until the chocolate begins to melt from the heat of your skin and Hoseok’s fingers.

 It leaves a trail that’s warm and sweet-smelling, the scent filling your nose and laying heavy on the roof of your mouth. You can strangely taste the chocolate as it melts onto your skin.

 Hoseok paints pictures on your belly and breasts, grinning to himself the whole time. You can only watch, amused and weirdly aroused by it all, until he uses up the last of the chocolate.  Then he grabs another piece and repeats the process, using your body as his canvas.

 He goes through at least four small pieces of chocolate. And with each one, your body grows more restless.

 You half expect him to keep going until all the chocolate is gone, but when he looks at you, he changes his mind. Something in your expression must have revealed how badly you need his touch.

 Hoseok holds up his fingers, coated in chocolate. And you don’t have to be told -- you open your mouth and wrap your tongue around them.

 “Ah, that’s right, angel. Clean my fingers,” he coos, palming the bulge of his erection. “How does it taste?”

 You suck him clean before answering, greedily swallowing all traces of the chocolate. “So good,” you mumble around his fingers. Your tongue licks his fingers, dips between them, and you know he’s imagining other things.

 Hoseok groans low in his throat, eyes growing dark as he watches you. Even though the chocolate is gone, you continue to suck on his fingers until he pulls them out of your mouth and your eyes catch the saliva running down his fingers and wrist.

 “If it’s that good then maybe I should have a taste for myself,” he murmurs as he lowers his head.

 He starts with your breasts, sucking them into his mouth. His tongue swirls around your flesh, gathering chocolate and teasing your nipples relentlessly. He licks up every trace of the sweet substance, leaving your skin pink and raw but also tingly from so much attention. Hoseok greedily makes his way down your stomach, destroying the pictures he so lovingly painted on your skin.

 His mouth and his hands are everywhere and the scent and taste of chocolate fills your senses. Now you really understand why so many people compare chocolate and sex. And you know you’ll never be able to look at an assorted Valentine’s Day box without recalling this.

 As he feasts on your body, Hoseok’s hands massage everything below your waist. You’re still wearing your pajama pants but the ache between your legs has been steadily growing ever since he first kissed you.

 His tongue dips into your navel, licking up the last bit of chocolate from your body, and then he’s crawling back up. Your mouths meet with a needy whine from your chest, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and your hands rooting through his hair. It’s a bittersweet brown and silky beneath your fingers, just like the chocolate you taste when he kisses you.

 “You taste so sweet.” He grins. You go to tell him that he tastes sweet too but he stops you with a quirk of his brow and his fingers on your lips. “But you know, I’m in the mood for something a little sweeter,” he says suggestively.

 “Cheesy,” you snort.

 But you’re all too happy to wiggle out of your panties and pajama pants, breath catching in your throat as he kisses your hips, the insides of your thighs. He cups your bare pussy with one hand, rubbing the heel of his palm in small circles while his mouth focuses on the sensitive crease between your thigh and hip.

 “Hobi…” Your fingers find purchase in his hair again.

 And as you lay there on your leather couch, succumbing to pleasure, you realize how well Hoseok knows you. He knows exactly how and where to touch you, how to make you moan and gasp his name, how to draw out your pleasure.

 You think back to your first night together. How his touches were hesitant and unsure, how you guided him with your moans. Now his hands and mouth are sure and confident, and the growth makes your heart squeeze.

 He’s learned your body so thoroughly, like it’s an extension of his own.

 Hoseok kisses your core, arms scooting underneath your thighs. He props your legs up on his shoulders as he proceeds to eat you out, just how you like it. Soft and tender kisses, firm sucking on your clit, fingers spreading you open for his hot breath.

 With any other man, you would be embarrassed at how quickly you turn into a whimpering mess. But because this is Hoseok, and because he knows you, you’re not embarrassed at all.

 In fact, you’re actually proud.

 You groan when he finally rims your entrance with his fingers, your hips lifting higher. He sinks one finger inside easily, all the way up to his knuckles, before pulling out.

 Nice, easy thrusts and firm pressure on your clit. You’re about to go crazy, your whole lower body tightening in warning.

 “Hobi,” you gasp, tugging on his hair, “Hobi. Hobi, I need to -- ah…”

 He keeps fucking you gently with one finger, flicks his tongue against the top of your slit. “It’s okay, angel,” he mutters against your dripping folds. “I can feel it. Let me take care of it.”

 Your eyes shut and you press your head back into the throw pillows. His pace is sure and solid and when he adds a second finger, curling towards that hidden rough patch inside you, you come with a low moan that turns into something like a sob. His fingers keep moving and his mouth chases after your release, noisily slurping up the juices that his fingers push out.

 “Fuck, you taste even better than chocolate,” he says, licking a strip up your pussy one last time before pulling his fingers out. They glisten in the light as he moves them toward your face. “Don’t you think?”

 You pull his wet fingers into your mouth, tasting the tang of your cum. It mixes with the sweet aftertaste of chocolate still on your tongue.

 “Mm,” you agree on a moan.

 When they’re clean, he pulls them out and begins taking off his sweatshirt. You’re completely naked while he’s still wearing all his clothes, having been too busy touching you to take them off. Next are his sweatpants, but before he lets them join the rest of the clothes on your living room floor, he digs into the pocket and pulls out a foiled square.

 “This time I may have come with ulterior motives,” he admits with a grin.

 “Well that was risky.” You watch as he rolls the condom onto himself in short strokes.

 You can’t even imagine the chaos that would have proceeded had someone -- a fan, a reporter, or one of his friends, even -- caught him with a condom in his pocket. Still, he’d done so for you. And you can’t decide if you think it’s a dumb or romantic move.

 “You’re worth it,” Hoseok simply says.

 You lean more towards romantic. Your heart is so easily swayed.

 Hoseok pumps himself while he gets on his knees, uses his other hand to test how ready you are. You’re plenty wet, ready for more.

 But your brows furrow. “I never get to taste you,” you complain as he lines himself up.

 “You know I love when you suck my cock, angel,” he says, eyes closing briefly like he’s picturing it in his head. He rubs his cock through your folds, spreading your wetness around. “But tonight isn’t about me. My only goal tonight is to pamper you, spoil you, make you feel good. You can blow me later, I promise.”

 “I’m holding you to that,” you sigh as he pushes the tip into you.

 You’ve never really been that into giving oral. Putting stinky dicks in your mouth was just never appealing until you met Hoseok. With him, you don’t mind at all. In fact, you actually like it. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have a stinky dick -- he showers too frequently. Or maybe it’s because you love him.

 Either way, having that bitter, salty taste in your mouth while he lays heavy on your tongue is amazing. When he grabs your head and fucks your face? Even better.

 You’ve been sorely denied that privilege for most of your relationship. Not because he doesn’t like it, but because he’s always too focused on making you feel good. So you promise yourself here and now that next time, you’ll definitely be the one to pleasure him. You’ll suck him off so good he won’t be able to think straight.

 The thought, and the slight burn as his cock stretches you out, has you moaning.

 “You’re always so tight,” Hoseok grunts, working himself inside inch by inch. He blows out a heavy breath once he’s seated completely, balls against your ass. “Fuck, angel. So tight but you take me all the way in.”

 You feel so full, almost too full. But you adjust quickly, your body recognizing his familiar width and curve.

 You expect him to start thrusting as soon as you give him the okay. To your surprise, he grabs one of your legs and lifts it up over his shoulder. Then he does the same to your other leg, leaving your body tilted at an angle with him still deep inside you.

 “Good?” he asks, hands smoothing over your thighs.

 You nod, adjusting your grip on the couch.

 “God,” his head falls forward, “you’re even tighter like this.” He laughs a little, but then his hips are moving -- pulling out slowly until the head of his cock slides out with a pop, then pushing back inside.

 Your back arches, his name on your lips. “Hobi…”

 Wine in your veins and chocolate on your skin, Hoseok makes love to you on your couch. The forgotten movie continues to play softly, background music to the thoughts and emotions you and Hoseok share through the language of your bodies.

 It’s slow and unhurried. Hot kisses and whispered phrases into the soft skin of your thighs, his strong hands holding your hips steady, eyes the color of chocolate growing darker. He tells you everything you need to know without uttering a word at all, loving you like it’s the first and last time you’ll be together.

 You feel like you’re about to drown in it -- in him.

 And it’s perfect.

 You and Hoseok are in your own world where nothing exists except the two of you. His hisses and grunts as he fills you up, your breathy moans as you tell him, “Yes, right there, right there.” Your hand reaching up and his reaching down, your fingers tangling together.

 Your hips roll, your voice breaks, and Hoseok’s fingers on your clit send you tumbling into an orgasm so intense you see stars. His rhythm stutters when you squeeze on him, wringing choked curses from his mouth. He keeps thrusting and you can’t hold back your scream as your whole body shakes.

 You’re not sure if it’s another orgasm, or just one really long one.

 But then your legs fall from his shoulders and he covers your body with his own. “Fuck, angel, I’m not gonna last,” he rasps against your neck, thrusts sloppy and uneven.

 Your chest heaves, your nails digging into his hips as you find his mouth. “Let go, Hoseok,” you urge. “Come for me.”

 And he does. Choking, gasping into your mouth, whispering your name like a prayer. He grinds into you, brushing over your swollen clit and your pussy clamps down even harder. Inside you, his cock pulses as he fills the condom.

 “That was amazing,” you gasp. Your hands push Hoseok’s damp hair out of his face. “I love you.”

 He grins tiredly. “Mm, I love you more.”

 You lay there on your couch for a while and after your heart finally calms, you notice the movie is still playing. It’s almost over, an elderly Noah making his way to Allie’s room in the middle of the night. You and Hoseok watch with heavy-lidded eyes as the disjointed lovers wholly reunite, Allie remembering Noah just in time for the two to pass away peacefully in their sleep side by side.

 You’ve always thought this scene particularly sad. It’s the hardest part for you to watch because it seems cruel in a way -- to recall your love just moments before dying.

 But now, with Hoseok’s comforting weight on top of you, his fingers petting your shoulder, you think it’s oddly beautiful. To have such a strong connection to another person, to love so deeply that not even old age can defile it.

 As the flock of birds fly away on the screen, the credits beginning to roll, Hoseok murmurs, “I love that scene.”

 “Me too,” you say with a smile.

 It’s sad, yes, but also beautiful. And amazing. And you hope that you can experience something like it at least once in your life.

 The title screen begins to loop before Hoseok rolls off of you with a groan. Your skins separate with a sticky, peeling sound and you both wince. You’re covered in dried sweat, saliva, and chocolate.

 It was sexy in the heat of the moment. But now it’s just messy.

 Hoseok, as if reading your mind, helps you stand up. He carefully removes the used condom, ties it, and tosses it into your living room’s trash can. “I don’t know about you, but I could go for a shower,” he muses, glancing at you.

 The suggestion is crystal clear in his eyes. And even though you should be spent, your body is already thrumming at the idea.

 You grab his hand and tug him all the way to your master bathroom. “Let me take care of you,” you implore, voice husky at the thought of finally being able to taste him. “You deserve to be spoiled too, you know.”

 Hoseok’s eyes light up. “I do love to be spoiled. Especially when you’re the one doing the spoiling.”

 Your throat is sore the next day, but it’s well worth it.

[lissachan504]

FAW FAN FICTION SHOWCASE U.M.B.R.A: Chapter 1: Mementos of Anachronisms

When a string of strange murders leaves the police with dead ends, it’s up to UMBRA to solve the crime and track down the killer. However, what they uncover leads them to the heart of a sinister plot and unveils an ancient secret; making the team question who they are.

Submission by @ashes-of-elysian

A/N: Heavy crossover AU between MLSHR, Criminal Minds, and Torchwood… fused with my own original projects.

(Triggers: death, blood, major character death, etc…)

Fic Masterlist is available here (slowly getting there).

Smog fills the cold rainy air of Seoul’s dense cityscape. Gold emergency lights flash atop four black SUV’s branded with the logo of an entwined Wolf and Dragon along the side paneling, a logo recognized throughout the DarkNet for U.M.B.R.A. -Undercover Military Battle Response Agency. Rumors of extraterrestrial affairs surrounded U.M.B.R.A. between witnesses spotting them at crime scenes, or various “leaks” of intelligence, but, those that glimpsed the truth vanished without a trace. 

     As the rain poured, people circle around outside the office building peering around the U.M.B.R.A. agents that try shielding them from the horrific scene; a woman lying dead in a pool of her own blood and terror frozen upon her young vacant face.

“Step back, this is official business!” Agent Kim Jeong Yeol raises his hands trying to herd the spectators away from the scene. His angular-square features harden as his eyes narrow upon the people taking photos and video. “Everyone put your phones away and step back, now!” He ground out.

“Why, is this another ‘classified’ government operation?” Called a hefty middle-aged man from the crowd. “She was one of our co-workers, we have the right to know what’s going on in our own company!”

     Jeong Yeol’s jaw clenches and stares the older man down challengingly, despite looking younger than the middle-aged civilian, Jeong Yeol’s cold piercing eyes held the authority of a General despite being lower rank; those years as U.M.B.R.A.’s spy conditioned him to be a cold-blooded killer, in his eyes he was more than just an agent. Just as he’s about to speak, a fifth SUV pulls up. He glances back at his team, “The Generals’ are here, get these people out of here now!” He orders and turns to head inside the office building to further investigate.

The doors to the drivers and passengers’ side swing open as a tall dark-haired man accompanied by a lithe fair skinned European looking woman exit the vehicle wearing light tactical uniforms. The two of them approach the three agents that circle the body enthralled in their analysis.

     "Agent Hae, what do we have here?“ Asks General Lee Gwang Min. Looking upon the victim, his stomach knots and he swallows thickly. His thin-almond gaze softens sympathetically, reflecting the age he appears to look- a man in his 30’s, yet, his youthful face defies his rank and pales in comparison the weariness and wisdom that reflects in his old eyes. He averts his eyes from the victim, keeping his professional composure. The killer has been focusing on older victims, now they’re targeting young victims, why? He thinks, running over scenarios on a motive. He’s shaken from his thoughts-a huff escaping his cupid-shaped lips- as Agent Hae removes her medical gloves with a snap.

"Her driver’s license says she’s a 20-year-old by the name of Go Ha Jin.” Agent Hae stands and places the DNA samples she collected into a marked bag. She brushes her drenched auburn hair from her face as she chews her lip; her mind races over what little forensics analysis she gathered on site, more would have to be done back at headquarters. “From what it looks like, she fell to her death from the 6th floor of this SkyCorp Realty office. The police are labeling it a suicide, however, I found traces of the same alien DNA in the blood that the other victims had.”

     "So, she’s the 8th victim in the past three months, great.“ Gwang Min’s hands rest on his lithe waist, tinges of familiarity wrack his mind, she looked familiar but he can’t quite place it.

Gwang Min watches his unit prep the body to be transferred back to HQ for an autopsy, while the rest deal with the shouting and mourning employees crying and demanding answers. 

       Each of the victims were labeled a suicide but none of them were diagnosed with a mental illness. The only link to the murders was Extraterrestrial DNA found in the blood- DNA that wasn’t native to the victims’ Genetic makeup. The mafia has been moving this DNA and it’s become high in demand, yet, none of our tests reveal any significant traits this DNA possesses when combined with human DNA. 

His fingers scrape through his short black hair scratching the back of his, his attention drifts from the victim to Fenris, his partner and co-founder of U.M.B.R.A., who busies herself on a tablet several paces away.

    "Fenris,” He calls over the heavy rainstorm, weaving past Agent Hae and his other teammates. “What do you have on SkyCorp?” Upon reaching her side, he peers over her shoulder at the files she pulls up on the tablet.

“It’s an international Real estate company lead by CEO Zhu Lu-Ten.” She swiped the tablet’s surface pulling up his records, “in 2011 his company invested 1.6 Billion in GENESIS Research. SkyCorp Realty owns the building they operate out of.” As her dark eyes met his, her full lips pulled tightly conveying silently there was more to this than what she was saying out in the open. However, the look on Gwang Min’s face halted her train of thought.

    “What are you thinking?” Her tone dropped just above a whisper, concern etched in her fair rounded face as she saw Gwang Min’s expression darken in a spiral of fear and confusion.

Zhu Lu-Ten… He thinks back where he’d heard that name before and grabs the tablet from her; skimming over the files before his eyes land on a photo of him, that nagging familiarity grips his chest, just like it did with all the other victims in this case.  "Question the employees, I want to know the victim’s background and how she’s linked to this. Also, find out what you can about GENESIS Research and CEO Zhu Lu-Ten.“ He pivoted on his heel to head back to Agent Hae only to halt as Fenris’s hand shot out and touched his shoulder; the tension in his shoulders ease as he glances over at her. "We’ll talk when we get home.” He says with a gentle firm voice.

    As the night crept on, the team’s analysis came up short. With daybreak on the horizon, all they concluded was that they’d have to run further tests on all the bodies to compare the data they’d collected. However, they agreed that getting a few hours of rest and returning would be best.

The car ride back to his home and the events that followed blur in Gwang Min’s exhausted mind.

    He stares blankly as the news flashes on his 40” 4K TV in their grand master bedroom he half listens to the report come in. “Earlier tonight a 20-year-old girl fell to her death from SkyCorp Realty’s head office. Police say it was a suicide, however, sources say that the classified unit, U.M.B.R.A. were at the scene. Rumors of SkyCorp’s involvement with money— “

Gwang Min clicks off the TV leaving the hiss of the shower fill the quiet heavy atmosphere. His thoughts whir back to the case. There were no signs of struggle or an attack against the victims; No drugs found in their bodies and the DNA isn’t the cause of death…  The lingering questions spiral in his mind like a raging storm. The recent victim never leaving his thoughts, where had he seen her before and how was SkyCorp Realty and GENESIS connected?

    The shower turns off and the bathroom door swings often; Fenris emerges from the hot steam wrapped up in a towel. Her fatigued face softens at the site of Gwang Min lying pensively on the bed; the gears seemingly turn in his mind at half pace. It would be cute if it didn’t worry her.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t bring work to bed?” She said lightly with an upturned quirk of her lips- a weak attempt to lighten the mood. Nothing. Her expression abruptly falls worried, “you’ve been quiet since we left the crime scene. You didn’t know her, did you?” She approaches the bed and lays down with him. It wasn’t the first time they’d lost people they cared about and while it didn’t get easier, the thought this case was getting to him worries her.

    Gwang Min quirks a brow at her question and looks over at her, the worry in her gentle brown eyes only add to his confusion, “What makes you think that?”

“I haven’t seen you like this since we lost Hyohwa.” She reaches over and caresses his cheek- halting as he pulls away and sits up.

    “Fenris, that was a long time ago I’ve moved on.” He leans his head against the headboard and closed his eyes, now wasn’t the time to dig up the past or the toll that came with being what he was.

“I’ve seen that victim from tonight before, something about all of this feels familiar.” His jaw clenches as he tries piecing it together- nothing, none of it made sense. “The mafia is selling that extraterrestrial DNA for millions on the black market and are working with GENESIS Research, but there’s no trace of what it does.” His hands run over his face in a feeble attempt to mask the anger and frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Dammit!” He lapses into momentary silence trying to calm down, then asks, “What weren’t you telling me back there?”

     Fenris reaches for his hand and squeezes it reassuringly, then, gets up and walks across the room to grab her tablet sitting on the dresser. “When I was digging through CEO Zhu’s files, I discovered he was working with the Soviet Union during the mid-70’s. He was allied with the Tromedlov family before they established Genesis.” Crossing the room back to bed, her heart races at the following words, “what concerns me most is I can’t find anything else about them. No background before he joined the military and very little during and after the Soviet Union’s fall. It’s like he doesn’t exist except at a glance.”

Gwang Min’s eyes snap open and faces her; his chest and shoulders tighten, “That’s impossible, when I saw that photo of CEO Zhu, he looked to be in his mid 40’s. He’d be twice that age if he was allied with the Soviet Union.” Not to mention U.M.B.R.A. had some of the top off-world technology to track and eliminate almost any known extraterrestrial and terrestrial threat on the planet. The only person that can get under their radar was–

    “You don’t think the killer is the Black Phoenix, do you?” His voice falters matching his blanched face at the thought.

“I don’t know, but, it’s our only lead.” Fenris murmurs, unable to admit the possibility- no probability- that the CEO Zhu Lu-Ten was the world’s most feared assassin the Black Phoenix.

     Getting up, Gwang Min redresses in a hurry. The light of daybreak creeps through the blinds of their window. “Call Jeong Yeol and Seon Hui, now.” He orders.

Fenris hesitates as she watches him dress and hurries out of their bedroom. Following him she halts him in his tracks asking “Wait, where are you going?”

    Gwang Min looks over at her, trying to conceal the fear that coursed through him. If it was really the Black Phoenix everything they’d tried to bury would be exposed and their team- his friends- they’d be thrown into the heart of it. “I’m going to speak with our old friend and see if he can help us. Promise me you and the team won’t go after CEO Zhu until I get back? If he’s the Black Phoenix we—“

Fenris cut him off with a nod, “I can’t promise anything, but, I’ll try. Our espionage unit only listens just enough to not lose their jobs.” Despite how her chest constricted and her heart raced with worry, she smiled a little saying “Be safe, my Wolf.”

    Gwang Min half smirked and turned to head out to his car.

[roguesandsaviors]

Readying The Troops

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Characters: Negan, Emilia Rogers (OFC)

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1,979

Author’s Note: So, this is my first time publishing a one shot on tumblr. It belongs in a series. Hopefully you guys like it. I know that thr background of the OC is vague and not really explained. More will be better explained as time goes on. Thanks for your patience!

The supply run wasn’t exactly something that was necessary. Well to the eyes of most. To me it was. As twisted and fucked up as I was in the head, and that was saying something considering I was majorly screwed in the head, there were certain things that mattered to me. It wasn’t easy to find what I was looking for but I managed to after several hours of looking and traveling. On a solo run, I had plenty of space in the truck to load the supplies without having to leave behind anything. A couple walkers were in the way but they were easily taken care of with the hatchet that I kept on me. Too easy really. I had been hoping for a bit of a challenge, a chance to stretch out my muscles and get a bit messy. Shame that I didn’t run into any strangling survivors. 

As soon as I got back to the compound, the gates were opened and I grabbed the few bags and hurried towards one of the rooms that we used as a garage. I was barely given a second glance, those that did stare clearly didn’t know better yet but they would learn. The others would make sure that they were brought up to speed and if not, well I still had some excess energy to use. 

I just needed a few bullet casings, screwdrivers, and some malleable thin metal. We had plenty of those sort of supplies laying around. Then the plan would be seen through. Several men were scattered around the room but quickly stood and bowed their heads when I entered the room. With a look that told them what I wanted from them, the men scurried to the door to leave me to my own devices, allowing me to work in peace. Word would get around that I was back and soon enough, I knew that I would have some visitors. Well one in particular.  

I aimed down the barrel and pulled the trigger just as I heard the heavy foot falls enter the room. There was only one person that it would be and at the moment, I was more interested in the toys that I had in my hand. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Setting the object down with a satisfied grin, I turned my attention to the tank of helium that I managed to find along with it. I filled up the balloons one by one, fifteen of them for now. A low growl like sound registered behind me and I knew that the man was frustrated that I hadn’t answered him. “You gonna answer me?” 

“Kids need to learn how to shoot. We need a safe way of doing it. Here is your answer.” I picked back up the nerf gun with a wide grin on my face. Negan cocked a brow, clearly unimpressed. “They need to know how to defend themselves if shit was to happen. This is a way of making sure that no one ends up with a fucking bullet in their leg.” 

“Those pieces of shit can’t shoot accurately.” I spun on my heel and aimed at one of the balloons that sat fifteen feet away. The rubber dart hit the face that I had drawn dead between the eyes. 

“Modified them. Took out the air restrictors, reinforced the casings and springs, made sure that everything moved smoothly. Used to do this shit all the time as a kid. Ended up modifying one enough that it shot bb’s. Ended up killing a neighbor’s cat with it by the time I was nine.” That gave him pause. He didn’t say anything but moved over to take the one out of my hand. I passed it over to him without any sort of fight and he aimed down the barrel to take a shot of his own. It landed clearly where he wanted it to.  

“You had some sort of fucked up childhood.” 

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it.” The grin remained on my face as I gathered up the toys into the bag once again.  

“Why don’t we go celebrate? Me, you, my bed.” I rolled my eyes and turned to face the man once more, crossing my arms over my chest as I had to once again turn down the offer that was being made. He would never learn. I was lucky I was as good of a shot as I was, as ruthless and fucked as I was. Add onto the fact that the past three years had seen us spent more time together and kill more walkers than anyone else. Otherwise I would have ended up at the business end of Lucille, something that I really didn’t want to handle. I had my own anger issues and fucked up ways of dealing with the fucked up world we lived in but that didn’t mean that I was ready to die. 

“How about you take one of those slips of women that you keep by your room and enjoy the night with them?” I cocked a brow. “Because it ain’t ever happening.” In those three years, he had been trying to get me into bed and it still wasn’t working. There were more important things to focus on besides getting laid, though he didn’t seem to think so. Which was fine, let him sleep with all the women he wanted. I wasn’t going to be added to the tally count. 

His brow furrowed and I could tell that there was a simmering anger underneath the surface. There always was when I turned him down. I had learned to recognize it and work around it. I rolled my eyes and passed him a pack of cigarettes that I had found on the run. It didn’t take much, a couple spare things picked up that no one else knew about and he was back to his normal, jolly self and pleased with me. 

“Found those out there. There are two more packs in the bag. Shit is getting harder and harder to fucking find.” He opened the pack and smelled them. Fresh really, seeing as they had still been in the plastic wrapping. Some of the things that we found were half opened, which was dangerous but addiction was addiction after all wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to pass by a pack because it was left behind half used. “I’m gonna set up the working room tomorrow to give the kids their first lesson. You want Simon or Dwight in on this?” I was a better shot than both of them and while I held my own position of power, men will be men. Especially in our new little world order. 

“Fuck no. If anyone is teaching the little shits to shoot, it is going to be you.” I nearly snorted out my laughter at his reaction. Well, good to know that he thought so highly of his men and actually nice to know that his opinion of my skills was so high. “Toys or not. They ain’t got shit on your accuracy.”  

“If they would clean their fucking ears out and listen to the advice that I gave them for once, they would be able to shoot better.  What is it with men and being unable to take advice from a woman huh?” It wasn’t so much a question aimed at him as much as it was a rhetorical one. Men liked to think that I didn’t know what I was talking about but most quickly learned their lesson after I shot at them a couple of times and had them pissing their pants. “Both of them hold the fucking gun wrong.” I mumbled a bit, the subject one that annoyed me more than I cared to admit. Watching someone purposely do something wrong just to avoid listening to me pushed every button and nerve ending that I had. I couldn’t give a shit about them ending their own lives and becoming walkers but it endangered everyone else if they couldn’t handle the situation or missed a shot because they were assholes. I rather liked the sanctuary that we set up and that wasn’t allowed to go down the drain. We had power, respect, and other people doing a lot of work for us. It was a fantastic set up. 

“Let them get their fucking faces chewed off then.” He placed a cigarette between his lips. “What time are you setting up? We have to head to Hilltop tomorrow.” Shit, I forgot about the run we were making to the settlement. Which he would surely know by the way that I went ridged for just a split second. 

“Heading over early right?” 

“Yeah. Probably not too long after sunrise.” 

“Guess when we get back then. Not missing that trip.” Once more, he was all grins and I could feel more tension leak from my shoulders. “Too much fun watching them run in a panic.” Really, we weren’t well in the head but most of the time I really didn’t think either of us realized it quite as much as maybe we should have. Others got to see the full brunt of it where as when we watched each other, there was more of an enjoyment, much more amusement than those that held respect and fear within themselves.  

“You know none of the kids are gonna be able to focus longer than five minutes right?” I wasn’t really known for my patience but none of the men knew how well I could handle children. Maybe that stemmed from my own childhood or maybe it was the one piece of me that came close to resembling normal that hadn’t been lost in the hellhole of a world that we lived in.That wouldn’t be kept a secret for too much longer from the men.  

“Don’t expect any of them to be able to shoot worth a shit. That’s why they are going to learn. Gonna make it easier when they get a bit older and can finally go on runs. Rather have the bullet end up in the skull of the sniveling mess that sits in front of you rather than in my own fucking back.” It would be fun for them too, if I was being honest with myself. Give them a good distraction and something other than the four walls to stare at. “Do something productive.” He nodded, a sign of agreement from him.  

“They can practice on walkers and anyone outside the walls.”  

“Once they are old enough to be trusted with a gun sure. This will prep them better and ensure that less time is spent when they are old enough. Speeds up the whole process, safely for us. Keeps the little shits moving and less likely to get in trouble too.” Walkers or not, kids would be kids and a five year old could cause more trouble than either of us thought possible. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll see how it goes tomorrow.” It was all but permission to do what I was going to do anyway. But it helped to have his backing that was for sure. It meant less hassle for me when it came to other men around the compound.  

“I’m going to drop this shit over there now. Usual meeting tonight?”  

“Yeah. I’ll see ya in the cafeteria then.” He finally left the room, just as I was pulling the bag over my shoulder. Shaking my head, I moved in the opposite direction to drop off the supplies. I had to switch gears, get my mind ready for the trip to Hilltop. The dead were one thing but the living were an entirely different beast. Unpredictable and desperate, it made them much more dangerous than any walker out there. I kept on my game to keep myself and Negan safe. 

@ladylorelitany