#also love that poisoning him is apparently considered fake genius

[zoroara]

December Belphegor Redraw 22 of 31!  

Buon Compleanno Belphegor~ As for his birthday I absolutely needed to get one of him as a kid. I had ruminated about doing the panel just before this with him and Rasiel, but well. He would've been made I made him share~ Maybe next year Rasiel, maybe next year. Speaking of this though I find the portrayals of how this went down, in Varia arc Vs Future arc very interesting. Because they're incredibly different in how they're described, in Varia arc Rasiel's murder is described as something Bel did Haphazardly, done without organization likely very sudden stabbing Rasiel to death. But then future arc clarifies from the both of them, that this could have been seen to be leading up from a mile away, and only if their parents genuinely were so neglectful to not pay any mind to this, or in fact encouraged this, that this would have ended up happening. I just find it very interesting how different it is and with the addition of how easily Bel clarifies it, I wonder how it lead to the conclusion that it was haphazard at all, or if it was even as simple as stabbing Rasiel to 'death'. Because it seems like Bel likely just has his idealized version that keeps getting broken down the more he was forced or corrected, you must wonder JUST how much of this is a lie how much MORE of it is to his favour? In the presence of his brother he had to be honest that they had always fought, and while Rasiel makes them move on quickly from this, he does state that Bel is "only saying things that benefit him" and "That he better not forget the face that didn't lose to him" to which Bel has no rebuttal against. What likely happened with the additional knowledge that Rasiel then says that day he was essentially poisoned with medicine, that Bel seeing an opportunity to finally end Rasiel then stabbed him violently very simple to figure. But even still there was likely much more of a struggle than Bel probably wants to admit if it was not considered a flat out loss for Rasiel now that he was proven to be alive to the point Bel didn't bother arguing that point. Bel may have been wounded himself and in his haste to solve that, may have been the small opening of chance for Rasiel to survive that Byakuran needed to manipulate so that Rasiel could survive in the future timeline. (just don't fucking ask me how that works because I don't see how he could affect something so far back. Maybe Byakuran just fucking lied to Rasiel and used other powers as "proof" to convince Rasiel that his survival was actually his doing.)

The Image I redrew is under the cut, just to keep the post small.

Not related to the whole murder(funny sentence I know), but it is said that Bel hides his eyes to prevent like a fucking political incident, but like. HE WAS WEARING HIS HAIR LIKE THIS SINCE BEFORE THIS I THINK PEOPLE WOULD ACTUALLY REALIZE MORE SINCE HE KEPT IT THAT WAY.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Lady Silence” Part 3

Frost’s younger sister came to live with him 6 months ago; one could say Y/N is a bit of an oddball because she doesn’t talk and she doesn’t like to be touched. The Joker allowed her to help the crew from time to time without knowing that the only reason for the woman’s presence amidst them was actually him.

Shiro takes a look at the new cards facing down in front of him, glad to see 3 kings in his pile:

“I’m in,” he slides a stash of hundreds towards the middle of the poker table, distracted by your kiss in the next second: you’re sitting in his lap and make it hard for him to concentrate since you won’t stop teasing.

“Mistress, are you going to play?” Kiyoshi asks and Frost throws a handful of chips in his direction:

“Shut up! She cleared us up last time so it’s fine if she doesn’t!”

Miyuki giggles, taking another glance at your brother: you don’t have to be a genius in order to notice she’s still in love with him. They dated three years ago and it didn’t work out; God knows why: in your personal opinion they were perfect for each other.

“I fold,” she sighs because there is no way she could win this round with the lousy hand she got from the dealer.

“I’m in,” The Joker growls, quite happy with his cards. He keeps sipping from the herbal tea you brewed especially for him: he doesn’t like the taste but it’s sure helping with the migraine. He was told that most of the ingredients could become poison in one’s body if not measured accurately; thankfully Y/N is mastering this skill too and strangely enough J didn’t even doubt her expertise, glad the splitting headache is almost gone.

There’s a bunch of small talk and laughter going on between the 12 people gathered outside the terrace for the poker party: mostly important Yakuza members in charge of different branches under your husband’s leadership. He’s silent for the moment though since you just whispered something in his ear that suddenly made the rest fade:

“I’m not wearing anything under my kimono”.

You feel his grip tightening around your waist and you peck his cheek, pleased to see him simmer under the apparent indifference. Shiro’s eagerness is reaching new heights once you stand up and discretely leave the table; he takes another shot of sake, slamming the cup in front of Akihiro:

“Pour me another one, please!”

“Thirsty?” the head of San Antonio network winks and obliges the request.

“Very,” your spouse admits, guzzling down another shot of his favorite drink and tosses his cards to the side. “Play a few rounds without me!” he announces and abandons the poker opponents in search for his wife.

J watches Shiro stepping inside the house, then walking on the long hallway attempting to guess in which room you are; a hand abruptly snatches him and he ends up inside the walk-in closet with Y/N locking the door for more privacy.

“Hi,” you rush in his arms and he smirks.

“Hi,” he kisses your neck and begins untying your kimono, satisfied when it glides on the carpet revealing a naked Y/N he wants immediately. “This wasn’t a part of tonight’s plan,” your husband points out but he surely enjoys the spontaneity.

“It won’t affect the outcome,” you unwrap the kimono in a frenzy and he pushes you against the wall, impatient to get it out of his system.

“U-hum,” Shiro agrees while lifting you higher against his body. “Plus I think we can consider this our second wedding night since we renewed our vows today, right? This can be a little preview,” his cheeky remark makes you giggle.

“If you think you have the energy for more than a preview…” you taunt and pull down on his boxers, causing the proud spouse to conclude:

“I’m on a roll!”

“Are you?” Y/N bites her lip and debates on something she’s been struggling with for months.

“I am and I can prove it,” Shiro confidently reaffirms and you tangle your fingers in his hair, aware that the next statement will render him beyond ecstatic.

“…Then maybe we should start trying for…for another baby…”

His eyes get big, taking in what you just said; he wanted this for a while and didn’t expect such a nice surprise anytime soon.

“You make me so happy,” Shiro confesses and rests his forehead on yours. His heart is beating so fast it’s impossible to ignore the overwhelming feeling of bliss washing all over him.

You smile at the genuine revelation, your teary eyes making him slowly guide his spouse towards the only furniture in the walk-in closet: a comfortable loveseat that witnessed many previous escapades of the Ozunu couple.

“You know what I think?...” he softly kisses you. “That we conceived Haruto in the same place…” Shiro mentions the lost first born and you cling to him at the bittersweet memory. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he instantly apologizes when tears roll down your face, reckoning that maybe he shouldn’t have said it.

“I’m not upset,” you reply while being picked up because he’s not at fault. “I just miss him…”

The leader of the Ozunu clan walks around the spacious room holding his most valuable possession: the woman he loved for so long he can’t remember a single day when he felt different about her. Even when they fight and they don’t speak for a few hours.

“Wanna go back to our guests?” your husband suggests and you sniffle on his shoulder, considering the proposal yet you don’t like it.

“No, I want to make love,” you hop off his arms and push him on the couch. “Even if it’s just a little preview,” you wipe your tears and the joke evokes a grin.

“Com’ere then,” he signals for his Y/N, understating it’s the only thing that will alleviate the grief for both of them.

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

Shiro is the first one to return to the poker table, shortly followed by his wife; he’s already playing again and you carefully circle the table, halting behind your brother.

“You’re not playing, are you?” Frost inquires, worried you might and it makes you snicker. You nod a no and he relaxes, glad for the confirmation. “Thank God! It will be nice to end up with some money instead of nothing,” the grumbled words prompt the older sibling to rectify his bitterness with a quick peck of your wrist.

The Joker sees you bend over and your lips barely moving when you tell Jonny under your breath:

“Baka!” which means idiot in Japanese. Nobody else heard you, including the King of Gotham and your brother snorts, amused.

Shiro gathers his hair and brings it to the left side of his body, the long strands hanging down past his waist. The gesture is swiftly noticed by Y/N and it means she has the approval to resume with the plan.

You leave Jonny’s side and observe the players, pretending to be interested in the game. As soon as you are by Kimura, you patiently wait for him to stretch and create a gap large enough for you to squeeze in and land on his knees. The man in charge with the Memphis network nervously glares at your husband as you keep on caressing the collar of his kimono, savoring the shocked expression on his face.

“Why so anxious, Kimura?” Shiro sneers, fiddling with his cards. “You never had a woman sitting in your lap?”

“Umm…” he tries to think of something smart to utter before it’s too late.

“Or maybe you’re tense for a different reason?” Shiro hints and intensely stares at the reason for tonight’s gathering.

“I’m not sure what…” Kimura wiggles in the chair and you walk your fingers across his chest, ready to intervene if he tries to stand up.

“Last month FBI raided my property with a warrant following an anonymous tip that I got a shipment full of smuggled artefacts from Japan. Do you know anything about that?” your husband’s voice is increasingly more and more menacing, his patience running short with the traitor. “Almost got arrested and placed in federal custody since they are always on my tail. You see, the authorities have this weird idea that I have something to do with Yakuza. Rumor is I’m their leader. Me?” he innocently chuckles. “Just the descendant of a very wealthy family with the best attorneys money can buy, offering employment to various law abiding citizens. Am I right?” Shiro addresses everyone and there’s only silence; Kimura realizes why: they all know but he tries to lie nevertheless:

“I swear…”

“You swear??!!” your husband shouts. “On the oath you pledged to me and the clan??!”

The Joker has no clue about what’s going on; he’s not part of the Yakuza and wasn’t briefed on tonight’s events yet his instincts warn about a simple fact: this is not a poker party, but an execution.

“Why did you betray me? You really thought I wouldn’t find out?!” Shiro growls and Kimura pushes you away, managing to escape your grip just because you allow it.

He takes a few steps back and the members of the Ozunu clan get up from the table, only J and Frost don’t. Your brother could participate since he’s considered part of the organization thou loyalty towards his employer dictate Jonny’s decision of inaction.

“Where are you going?” your husband shrieks. “Don’t you have any dignity left?”

Kimura watches everybody approach, noticing a faint movement in the darkness surrounding the terrace: the assassins are there also, making sure he won’t flee.

“Shiro…” he lifts his hands up asking for truce. “If you let me explain…”

“Explain!” the unexpected reply gives him a few seconds of fake impression he might twist the truth in his favor.

Kimura opens his mouth and the knife whooshing by your ear stops the words before they come out: Miyuki aimed for his throat and she never misses, just like you. The man gasps for air, his shaky fingers struggling to cover the blood oozing out of the wound. One of the assassins dressed in black emerges from the shadows, handing over his sword to your husband. Kimura stumbles on the decorative lanterns scattered around the patio, the gurgling noises coming out of him intensifying when he tries to take the blade out.

Shiro stomps towards him, mad beyond control after simulating a calm attitude for hours: there’s nothing worse than a scorned leader with zero tolerance for treachery.

The Joker catches himself admiring the sharp steel moments before it cuts the viper’s head; the fluidity in Shiro’s movement is quite hypnotizing for a person not accustomed to such capabilities. The Clown Prince of Crime is no exception.

“Goddamn snitch!” Akihiro kicks the corpse, disgusted at his former friend’s behavior. “I can’t believe he did that!”

“He got what he deserves!” Kiyoshi barks and takes the sword from your husband’s hand. “Master Shiro, thank you for avenging all of us,” he bows and the rest of those present do the same.

Your husband scoffs, glad the charade is over with.

“No need to thank me. Ensure it doesn’t happen again!” he indirectly reminds them of the fate they could share if they ever dare follow the same path Kimura did.

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

You continue to comb Shiro’s long hair, only The Joker left to keep you company in the office belonging to the main house after the others split.

“Can you braid it?” he hums and takes another sip of sake.

“U-hum,” you oblige and start twisting the locks; you can tell by his tired eyes that J is nearly ready to call it quits for the night too.

“I think I’m gonna crash soon,” he yawns and curiosity mixed with boredom makes him inquire about the several boxes filled with folders on Shiro’s desk. “Are you working on another project? Anybody else that betrayed and needs a lesson?” The Joker winks, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.

Shiro feels the pressure of your palms on his shoulders and although it’s not part of tonight’s agenda, might as well bring it up:

“No, not at all. These are actually files and information gathered over the years about our missing friend, the one that saved Y/N’s life and helped me run away with her.”

“Oh, him!” J remembers the previous conversations on the topic. ”Probably dead, why bother with the research?”

“He might not be,” Shiro places his cup on the coffee table next to him, preparing for a short interrogation. “Does the name Damian Johnson ring a bell?”

“… Mmm, noooo…?” J frowns, not comprehending the reason for the strange question.

Your husband reaches for some papers on his desk, handing them over to the guest.

“That was his name,” Shiro adds. “I told you he vanished because most than likely my father found out about what he did. Ryota Ozunu couldn’t stand traitors either, not that my friend was a traitor per se. But he was in my parent’s eyes since he never approved my relationship and that was enough.”

“What am I looking at?” The Joker turns the pages of the thick report, confused on the shared data.

“Police and hospital reports; that’s Damian,” your husband points out and The Joker recognizes the face from the pictures he saw around the residence. “It says John Doe since they couldn’t identify him. A lot of the orphans my father used as curriers don’t legitimately exist. He gave them names, but nothing official.”

“Fascinating,” he mutters because there’s no way in hell he will read all that. Why bother? Not his problem.

Shiro is not discouraged:

“Two weeks after I ran away with Y/N, his body was fished out of Hudson River: it seemed he has been tortured for days and then thrown in the water to drawn but he didn’t die. I had no idea; back then I was nothing more than a disowned outcast with no connections or any influence whatsoever…Damian was in a coma for 7 months and when he woke up he had no memory of who he was. Took another year for him to sort of recover, but he wasn’t doing well; he kept on being moved from mental institution to the next, placed on suicide watch since he tried to kill himself repeatedly. Among others he was treated for paranoia and disillusions, the medical report stating it was a result of the severe psychological and physical trauma he couldn’t recover from. I’m certain my father did a great job at cruelly punishing a young man that had no other fault besides helping his friends.”

The Joker lifts his gaze from the documents only to see a flustered Y/N quietly crying next to her husband’s recliner.

“I think you’re upsetting your wife,” J correctly guesses and Shiro ignores the sentence.

“Damian disappeared from Lane County mental hospital two months after being a patient there, this particular John Doe resurfacing from time to time in police reports, accused of acts of violence, robbery, murder and arson. Then two years of absolutely no trace before he reappeared again…completely changed…” your husband sighs and The Joker turns another page, stunned at the image depicting his own mug shot for the FBI most wanted list.

“What exactly is this?!” J snarls, not a huge fan of Shiro insinuation.

“Damian was two years older than me and three years older than Y/N. Are you 39 years old, Mister Joker?”

“That’s none of your business!” J hisses.

“It’s none of my business because you don’t want us to know your age or because you have no idea yourself?” Shiro raises his voice and won’t stop the tirade: “Do you have a star shaped birth mark on your left hip?”

“What are you doing?!” The Joker throws the report on the floor, antagonized. “Are you playing games with me?”

“No, otherwise you would know the difference; trust me.”

“Is that why I’m here?! For mind games?!” J disregards Shiro’s honest remark, getting up from the couch and dashing towards the door. He’s so furious he’s about to explode which doesn’t help when you block the exit with your body. “Out of my way!!” he yells and violently pushes you. You almost collapse on your knees but regain your balance and try to stop him from getting out when he charges again, mad beyond control.

“MISTER JOKER!!!!!” your husband yells. “DID YOU JUST ATTACK MY WIFE??!!”

The Joker turns towards Shiro since he never heard anybody screaming so loud, panting from the effort of making you move; certainly not as easy as he thought it would be.

“So what if I did, huh?” J sarcastically responds.

“GET OUT!!” Shiro rises from his spot, striving to contain his rage before it’s too late. “Get out of our house and don’t come back until you have learned some manners!”

“Or else what?” The Joker retaliates, shaking from the indignation poisoning his reasoning. “Are you going to unleash your assassins on me?”

“Believe me when I tell you I don’t need anybody else in order to drag you out of here!”

Things are getting out of hand and seeing there’s no other solution for the imminent altercation, you finally move out of The Joker’s way. He hesitates for a split second before opening the door and slamming it in your face when you want to follow.

“Let him go!!!” Shiro commands.

“We’ve been searching for years…” you plead and choke on the words.

“I don’t give a damn!”

“Shiro…” your voice breaks under the burden of guilt. “Shiro please…”

He fumes at the state you’re in, not that he’s doing better; it definitely didn’t go well.

“Shiro... He’s leaving… and he might not return,” you underline and your husband debates on the words.

“That’s not Damian! Or are you blind to the fact that he’s not the same person?!”

You bite on your lip, not giving up.

“Shiro…” you whisper, “…it’s not his fault… You know what happened to him…Please… Please?...”

Your spouse is pacing around the office, attempting to calm down.

“Fuck!” he has another outburst and knocks the boxes containing years of research on the floor, various pictures with young Damian sliding on the marble. Shiro glares at them with contempt, deciding to listen to his wife:

“Go…”

You don’t need a second invitation and sprint out of the office, merely paying attention to the warning:

“Take an umbrella; it’s pouring outside!”

But Y/N doesn’t care for an umbrella: she tosses her sandals down the hallway so she can run faster, lifting her kimono in the process for a hasty speed. You rush past the terrace and jump over the railing to avoid the stairs, darting towards the parking lot. The Joker is already gone and you can see his car heading for the south gates; nothing left to do but hurry after him on the slippery road while the crazy rain intensifies.

J adjusts his rearview mirror, accelerating when he sees you following the vehicle. Your reflection is getting smaller and smaller, yet he still sees you chasing after the car.

“What the hell are you doing?” he mumbles and the windshield wipers can’t even catch up with the amount of rain falling from the sky. A few neon lights illuminating the stormy night go out, the path behind scarcely detectable: Y/N is now a black dot on The Joker’s rearview mirror and he slams the breaks, puzzled.

Why aren’t you returning to the mansion?

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

You’re slowing down, the soles of your feet hurting from the hard concrete; it’s cold and you’re soaked to the bone, that’s why you hope Shiro alerted the guards to keep the gates closed: if he didn’t, it was all for nothing.

A few more steps and you halt, exhausted. You can’t see the car anymore and you sure wish The Joker won’t be able to vacate the premises. Or maybe he’s actually on track and driving back to Gotham if your husband changed his mind and determined The Clown Prince of Crime is not worth the trouble. If the gates were opened, he’s gone.

You’re looking up and down the road, no other option but to return to the house. You barely find the strength to walk, thinking about the tremendous efforts and resources spent over the years to find Damian and how ugly it turned out.

The sound of splashing water gets your attention and you tilt your head to see The Joker’s SUV slowly cruising to catch up with you. You wait until the car is next to you and he gets out, staring at the drenched Y/N.

“Why are you following me Silence?” he grumbles. “Did your husband send you to kill me? Do your worst but I can assure you I can hold my ground!”

You nod a no.

“What is it then, you’re afraid I’ll steal the kimono I borrowed?!” J snaps as he struggles to untie the garment he’s still wearing. “Here, you can have it!” He’s so frustrated his fingers keep on missing the knot.  

You approach and touch his hand with yours, making him stop.

“You can keep it,” you sadly smile and The Joker is not fussing anymore: this is the first time you ever talk to him and the first time he’s hearing your voice. He’s stunned and you take advantage of the situation and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him. “Stay…” you whisper. “Don’t go…OK?...”

It’s not easy to surprise The Joker and for the moment he doesn’t even care he’s completely wet too.

“Stay…” you repeat and release the embrace. “OK?”

J notices your red toes, scraped from running barefoot.

“Get in the car, Silence…” he pauses. “…I’ll drive us to the mansion…” he grouchily offers and watches you clean your face with the sleeves of your kimono. It’s pouring but he realizes you’re crying: the drops trickling down your face are not just water beads.

“I’m not the person you’ve been searching for,” he mentions as soon as you are both in the car and you glance at him, sobbing: it hurts so bad looking in his eyes and seeing no trace of your childhood friend but a complete stranger gazing back.

 Part 1:  diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/182229828411/the-joker-x-reader-lady-silence-part-1

 Part 2:  diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/183207279431/the-joker-x-reader-lady-silence-part-2

Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

AO3 and Wattpad -- same blog name: DiYunho

[letsperaltiago]

bet you wish you could touch our rush (Jake x Amy)

Okay, so nr. 6 (Cop-Con prompt) was the first one to get the most votes, but I’ll try to do the other requests as well! Just have some patience and I’ll get to it eventually! Also I’d thank you all for letting me know you preferences. It was awesome to have so many engage! 

Anyways: Here goes Cop-Con feat. drunk horny Peraltiago! PS I’m sorryyyyy if this sucks. I love an overprotective Jake but also know that realistically he trusts Amy too much to be a jerk about it soooo I tried a middle thing. Also I love for a drunk, stupid happy giggly horny couple. 

Please let me know what you think! 

Word count: 1.8k

Music was blasting from various speakers and drenched the room in a messy cocktail made of incoherent songs - everything from bubbly pop to the heaviest metal - and drunk voices, laughs and slurs. The detectives and officers from the Chicago PD had also had the genius idea to bring coloured lights and even a damn disco ball. This was no longer a boring hotel in Rochester; the entire floor was one big, secret secret party and it ruled.

Jake’s gaze scanned the crowded room holding one beer in hand whilst at least two were already safely stored in his stomach. The buzz had kicked in some time ago but nonetheless he immediately recognised a loud laugh causing him to turn around to see the one and only (and drunk) Amy Santiago perched on a dinner table turned bar. Surrounding her were three men and Jake immediately hoped it was with her and not at her, when they broke into laughter. Amy was a grown woman; the most grown human he knew. He knew she could take care of herself, but Jake also couldn’t help but keep an eye on the four of them - especially now that she’d had God knows how many drinks. Leaving them behind with the benefit of the doubt since he figured that there was no reason to worry, Jake downed the rest of his bear and stumbled off to find Rosa and Charles. If he was lucky they’d still be doing the Taser challenge.

“Wazzup, losers,” he just barely yelled upon finally finding what he’d been looking far: Rosa, Charles, a blonde NYPD beat cop he’d seen around the precinct before and some random guy from who knows where. “Still tasering?”

“Yup,” Rosa responded briefly as always before downing a shot of what appeared to be pure tequila.

“Awesome. I’m in!”

“Great. Got a drink?” Apparently one shot hadn’t been enough and Rosa poured herself another one.

“Uh,” Jake shook his bottle instantly realising that he’d emptied it whilst looking at Amy. “Gimme a minute and I’ll be back with one!” His feet immediately stumbled back to the bar table in the room next door, nonchalantly standing besides a still giggly Amy as he poured himself a cup of whatever alcoholic liquid his hand reached first. She hadn’t noticed and he hadn’t either - until one of the three men’s voice caught his attention.

“Okay, doll… “

Jake’s face immediately twisted into a frown at the disgustingly demeaning condescending though nonetheless he kept pouring. He was not about to meddle and cause a scene like a dick. Though he did pour very slowly, dragging out the amount of time he’d have to stick around and eavesdrop.

“Enough giggling and joking around. Which of the three of us are you going to join in our hotel room?”

Jake Peralta didn’t do jealous, but he did feel anger rising within him as he saw the three men smirk greedily as Amy, obviously more than just tipsy, was a bit taken back and let out a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Of course. This talking thing can only last so long,” another of the three men added before taking a sip of his beer. Out of the corner of his eye Jake could see his girlfriend, drunk but still her slightly socially awkward self, walking the line between drunk and sober in an attempt to come up with a good answer. A nervous hand running through her black curls sent Jake the signal he’d somewhat waited for; enough was enough.

“Let me in on this, gentlemen?” Jake interrupted the little circle they’d formed around a still sitting Amy. “Consider me an option, doll,” he sent his girlfriend a cocky wink before taking a sip of his drink. He couldn’t help but feel bare for not intervening earlier when he saw her shoulders and eyes drop in relief.

The one who’d started this whole ordeal quickly shot him an unsure elevator look. “Ehm sure, man. But I don’t-“

“You,” Amy smirked widely as she stretched out her arm to point at her boyfriend as to show he was the chosen one. “Show me your hotel room. Pleferlably the inside of it. Splecifically the bed.”

Her horribly mispronounced words were punctuated by her teeth biting into her bottom lip, and if Jake hadn’t felt mildly disgusted with himself for choosing such a disgusting character to help out his girlfriend, he would’ve been so so turned on.

The three men, hell even Jake was taken back by his girlfriend’s boldness, but it immediately made much more sense upon noticing how her eyes had transitioned to a darker shade of brown and how she was holding yet another drink in her hand. 4-drink Amy.

“Oh, I’ll show you more than just the bed,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before grabbing her hand and pulling her off the table as the three predators walked away with glum expressions. Feeling the need to make sure she was entirely okay, Jake never let go of her hand as he dragged her out into the hallway where the walls between them and the music would allow them to talk.

“I’m sorry about that, Ames. You okay?” He was definitely not sober, but never not sober enough to feel highly alert whenever someone he cared about was in trouble. He wanted to do this right.

Though apparently Amy had other plans in mind. Before he had time to put down his beer, wanting to hold and physically comfort her, she had him pressed up against the wall behind them. Lips that tasted like wine and poison immediately followed behind and pressed themselves against his. His head started spinning when he felt the fake soberness, which he’d forced upon himself to help her, quickly fade away. No way in hell he was sober; he was drunk as hell and so was she. More importantly her body and lips were attached to his and no one else. Instinctively his hand dropped his drink on the hotel carpet, which honestly didn’t matter ‘cause it was super gross since he’d paid more attention to her than the (what seemed to be) vodka and tequila ratio. No matter what it was it had smelled like it was about to knock the life out of every living braincell within him.

“‘ank you for saving me,” she gasped between crashing lips occasionally switching back a forth between his lips and his chin. As if she wasn’t utterly horny and needy for him already, Jake digging his hands beneath her floral shirt to caress her skin had her going insane. God, her skin was always so damn soft.

“Zhey shouldn’t-“ he swallowed a kiss, “have said that to you. I don’t want stupid boys to want you like that. Only super nize boys.” Wild hands ran through his messed up curls, occasionally getting caught up in them and tugging. Her chest was heaving and pressed up against his like for dear life. The sound of her breathing through her nose like a wild starving animal was insane. Anything she did drove him insane.

“You’re a nize boy,” she momentarily slipped away from his lips to whisper into his ear followed by  her teeth lazily tugging on the soft lobe. Jake felt himself fall apart. ”Take me to your wroom.”

“Therz a party in our rome, babe,” he felt himself struggle to keep up with both the English language and the kissing as he tried to paint the picture of their situation for her.

“I don’t care,” she’d managed to fumble the upper part of his shirt open, her hot breath and soft lips against his sternum making him shiver. “I’m sure therz no one in the bed. Or the closet. Either is frine.”

“Oh God,” Jake looked up towards the ceiling in pure desperation which caused the back of his head to bump into the wall. “Ames, you’re deathing me.”

“Please,” she separated from his chest only to grab his chin and pull it downards to look right into her almost black eyes. “I need you. Now. Wherever.”

If Jake wasn’t already turned on and probably also stone hard then he definitely was now. His girlfriend - his smart, beautiful, perfect girlfriend - was basically begging on her knees. Yet there was no way he’d allow them, no matter how drunk, to have sex directly in front of other people. They’d tried a fair share of things, but there was a limit to everything - even kinky sex. “We can’t in front of like… people.”

Amy didn’t even try to hide her disappointment at this. “But like… We’re peoples. You’re peoples and I’m peoples and we're always there whenever we boink.” Her whine somehow reminded him of a kid’s which amused him until he realised there was nothing funny about them not being able to have sex.

“Baby, that’s different.” He leaned down to continue his drunk slurring against her lips. “We’re not like other peoples. We can boink with each other in the room.”

“Can’t they just leave uz alone then? Go away,” this time it was her turn to slur against his lips as her hands slowly snaked their way beneath the bottom of his shirt and onto his bare skin.

Jake, speechless and suddenly realising how hopeless they both were, cupped her face in his hands and started laughing with his lips still pressed to hers. Everything; the whole day and evening; the alcohol; his love for her… It came crashing down on him all at once.

“Babe, we so drunk,” he smiled into the kiss, squeezing her waist as he did a 180 and pushed her against the wall he himself had just been caught against. He didn’t have to look to know that she was smiling too while running the palms of her hands up and down his lower back.

“I know,” she chuckled. “What are we going to do?” She somehow deepened the kiss.”I wunna boink…”

“Uhummm…” he couldn’t even make out proper words anymore. Amy Santiago had him at the gates of heaven and he needed to find a damn key. Fast.

Then an idea hit him like lightning meaning that he to both of their dismay pulled back. “Store room!”

His idea was immediately met by a frown. “What store? There’s no store here.”

“Storing room!” He tried again, slowly feeling the right expression sneaking up on him. He would probably get it right sooner or later, but didn’t have to wait much longer. Amy, as most of the time anyways, beat him to it.

“Room for storage! Storage room!”

“Yes!” He exclaimed like a kid getting what he wanted the most for Christmas. There was the urge to kiss her again and so he did. “You’re so smort, baby.” He cooed suddenly feeling her hands pushing onto his chest and off of her. Apart from her hazy, drunk eyes she looked stern and determined as ever.

“Shut up, Pearralta. We have a storable closet to find.”