#and his jaw dropping scrambling after her out the door like a drooling puppy like 'wait for me!' 🤩🤤

[dylanconrique]

if you could pick any type of episode that deviates from canon (ie. bottle, alternate universe, musical, origin story, your pick of documentary, etc.) — what would it be and what would you like to see? ♡

BEACH FILLER EPISOOODDE!!!!!!!

i think everything that's wrong with me would be healed if i just for once ☝️ got to witness the rookie gang have some carefree beach fun for a full 45 minutes. plus i need an excuse for lucy to show off some leg (i love her wardrobe, but she's always wearing jeans or a long skirt that covers up her legs and i'm a slut who needs to see some leg and maybe some cheeks, ngl. 🍑) i also think it'd be so funny if tim kept stealing sneak peak glances at lucy like, "GYATDAYUM" 😳😳 i can also picture him (and angela) absolutely dying of laughter at lucy and wesley getting overly competitive about over a game of beach volleyball. 😂

[shorkbrian]

Mafia

Prelude - HI!!!!! SO sorry I’ve been MIA lol I’ll explain later lol.

Pairing - Kirishima X Reader

Prompt - Idk I just needed to write something to get back into the groove.

Warnings - uhhh not really anything this time around, surprisingly lolol.

Music - too tired lol sorry

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“Oi, Shitty Hair! Open up.”

Kirishima bounced off his bed, phone in hand as he moved to open the door.  It wasn’t unusual for Bakugou to come hangout with him when neither of them were working, but Kiri knew that Bakugou had guard duty for the prisoner. Odd that he was pounding at Kiri’s door.

“Hey Bakubro, what’s u-“

The redhead cut himself off as he opened the door, eyes quickly zeroing in on the gagged-and-bound female in his friend’s arms. A confused glance to Bakugou’s face allowed a glimpse of the blonds feral smile, before Bakugou pushed past Kiri, shoving the captive forward and into the room.

“Boss is done with ‘em - stupid girl really was just walking home. He was gonna off her but decided not to. He saw the way you’ve been eyein’ the poor thing like a piece of fucking meat and decided you get a new toy. Said you’ve been doing a good job lately or some shit.”

The wheels were turning in Kirishima’s head as he followed his friend, watching the blond push the girl down onto the bed, snickering meanly as he watched her struggle. 

The poor thing had been walking - home apparently, after an exhausting shift at work - and had unfortunately taken a route that led her right into the middle of mafia territory. Kiri had been there that night, collecting debts and roughing up those who promised to pay later. He had seen the girl turn into the alley, watched as she meandered closer, not paying attention to her surroundings. The sound of a fist meeting flesh had startled her, head whipping up and taking in the scene before her.  A particular client had lied about their payments, and they were being threatened, blackmailed.  

The scared woman had barely run two steps before she was tackled to the ground.

She’d been held and questioned for about a week now,  the big boss wanting to make sure she wasn’t just a snitch for a gang, or the rival mafia two cities over.  It wasn’t surprising to Kirishima that it really was just a case of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was about the most innocent thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

“How’d he know I wanted her?”

Bakugou scoffed, turning to the redhead with crossed arms.

“It hasn’t been exactly hard to fucking figure it out, Hair-for-brains. Every time it’s been your turn to guard her you get all excited like a goddamn puppy. Talking her ear off, smiling like a stupid fucking sap. It’s the most disgusting shit I’ve ever had to watch.”

Kirishima shrugged. Bakugou wasn’t wrong, but Kiri had been trying his hardest to be professional - big, mean, intimidating. He was a fucking mafia member, for gods sake. It looks like he had been a little too enamored to keep up his usual scary, manly exterior. Oh well, what’s done is done.

Bakugou was pushing past him again, leaving the female behind as he exited. He stopped at the door, turning his head to flash his friend a dangerous smirk. “Have fun with your little gift.”

—— You glared up at the redhead, the man still facing towards the door his colleague had just exited. The gag in your mouth had your jaw stretched uncomfortably wide,  forcing you to struggle to not drool. The rope binding your arms behind your back felt too tight, and it was itchy.  In short - you were immensely uncomfortable, made even more so by the blond man’s terminology when he referred to you. A toy? A gift? You were nothing of the sort. You were your own person, with a life,  a job, an apartment.  You weren’t a little plaything.

“Hey, I’m gonna take the gag off for you, ‘kay?”

The redhead, Kirishima, was by your side, seated next to you on the bed. You didn’t move, just watched as he gingerly began removing the cloth stuffed into your mouth. Each little piece he removed made your jaw ache a little less, the pressure easing up.

“There we go. Feel better sweetie?”

You shook your head, staring wide-eyed at the redhead. “Can you let me go home now?” You whispered, voice scratchy from disuse.  “I just wanna go home please.”

“I can’t let you do that. You saw something you weren’t supposed to, and my boss doesn’t trust people to keep information like that to themselves.  I’m gonna be looking after you from now on though, so you’ll be well cared for - you don’t have to worry at all.”

How comforting. 

The man was looking down at you, keeping his movements gentle as he began stroking your hair. You were too afraid to ask him to stop. You had seen what the redhead had been doing to that man, the night you had stumbled across them in the alley. If the man was capable of violence like that, he would have no problem crushing your skull like an empty soda can. You didn’t want to stay here.

“Sir, please… you can’t….. I have a job, a life! This is illegal, what about my family? My friends?”

“Do you think the Mafia has to listen to the law? Sweetie, we /are/ the law. We can get away with anything.” The man chuckled, before tugging you towards him, hands beginning to work at the rope around your arms. At least he wasn’t planning on keeping you tied up like that. 

You wanted to ask what the man was going to do with you, what he wanted from you, but you weren’t sure you’d like the answer. The past week had been hell, stuck in a dark, musty room. There was always someone in there with you, watching, guarding the door. Occasionally you would be thrown over someone’s shoulder (usually the large redhead’s) and carried out, walking down corridors and through rooms of what seemed like a giant compound before being deposited gently in a huge office, facing an intimidating looking man. The green haired man would grill you, ask you questions about who you were and what you were doing, what was you intent with the information you had  ‘acquired’ from that night. He didn’t seem to listen to your pleading, your begging to be let go. 

It frightened you when he brought out pictures, a file with your name on it, filled to the brim with information about you. Had someone been watching you? No, this group was just insanely good with computers, had access to private information and video feeds. All their information about you had been gathered in the time you had been there. The casual display of power had you trembling. This organization could ruin your life - could kill you and make it look like an accident. Hell, they could kill you, erase your entire existence. It’d be like you were never born. It was terrifying.

“How ‘bout I tell you my name, huh? I’m Kirishima, lots of people call me Kiri though.”

The last knot came undone, and your sore arms fell to your sides, heavy and tingling. You tenderly rubbed at the flesh, trying not to wince at the weird sensation as blood rushed to your arms.

“I already know your name, (Y/N). It’s so pretty, suits you really well I think.”

Of course the man knew your name, it wasn’t a surprise. He had been using it when he talked with you during his shifts guarding you. He seemed pleasant enough, but you could tell that the subtle bulge of muscle on his form was more than just for show. He was dangerous.

“Kirishima, sir, please. I just want to go home.” You were scared, trying your best not to break down, to tremble and cry. You just wanted to leave. Suddenly, you were pulled into a firm chest, big arms wrapped around you in a warm, crushing hug.

“Awh, poor sweetie. I know you’re overwhelmed. You’ll be okay though, you know?  It’s not so bad here.”

You didn’t want to stay here. You wiggled, suddenly uncomfortable in Kirishima’s embrace. The man relaxed his grip on you, sensing your sudden panic as you shifted away from him, rising from the bed to stand.

“What’s gonna happen to me - what am I gonna be doing? I can’t just- t-this is too much, I don’t know what’s happening or if I’m gonna-“

“I said you’ll be alright, okay?” Arms pulled you down, into Kirishima’s lap. You were still squirming, uncomfortable with the contact, uncomfortable with the hot air puffing gently against your ear. You didn’t like feeling his thighs under you, his big hands holding you still.

“You’re gonna be like a special little friend. You don’t have to do anything but stay here, in my room. We can talk, cuddle, I can get you some books to read when I’m gone working…. It’ll be nice.”

“Cuddle? I can’t- I won’t do that- You can’t make me-“

His grip grew bruising, ceasing your struggles as you felt your bones protest. It /hurt/, the amount of pressure he was squeezing your arms with. You felt his chin hook over your shoulder, and his sharp, shark-like teeth were flashing right next to your eyes as he spoke, tone low, dangerous.

“You’ll do what I say, got it? I’m not so nice when I’m angry.”

You sniffled, his grip relaxing as your posture did, the fight leaving you. “I just… I don’t understand. You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, but sweetie, I do!” His voice had regained that chipper, light quality. “I’ve learned so much about you! I’ve read through the file we have on you, and every new thing I learn just makes me like you more and more. You’re so pretty, so cute, I just wanna eat you up.”

“You can’t know someone just by reading about them. I don’t wanna be here, please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about anything, I promise! Please? Just let me go?”

Kirishima stood up, picking you up with him. With a swift movement, he turned, letting you drop to the bed, face-first. You scrambled onto your butt so you could face him, feeling vulnerable with your back to him. The man was looming over you, cocky smile stretching his lips.

“No can do sweetie-pop.” The next second, he was up in your space, face inches from yours, hands planted on the bed near your hips. “Besides, we’ll have so much fun getting to know each other better.”

He surged forward, lips mashing against your own. 

You cried the first time he kissed you, and every time after.

[jeonsjiddies]

dirty little secret (m) | kth

summary- you had a dirty little secret and your boss, tae finds out.

rating- explicit / 18+

word count-  4781

pairing- taehyung x reader

genre- smut

Warnings- dirty talk, slight choking

Kim Taehyung could not possibly be human. He had to be some sort of government experiment to create the perfect man and see how women reacted. No man could possibly be so sexy. So smart. So successful. So kind. So… perfect. Maybe you were a  bit biased, you had been drooling over V since the first day you’d walked off the elevator to the top floor of Kim Publishing Company.

You were awestruck, taken aback by the vast space with the sparkling sun wafting through the large stained glass window. Gazing out at the skyline with brilliant blue hues, you failed to see V. He was walking backwards, adamantly discussing a new book deal with a prospective client. He turned a split second too late. You looked up a split second too late.

Colliding with his rock hard frame, you felt your whole body shiver in a way you’d never experienced before. His arms instinctively circled around you to keep you from falling, causing your bodies to remain flush against each other. Chills ran straight through you, down to your bones before every inch of your skin that touched his went ablaze.

Time seemed to stand still as you gazed up into his sensual,  deep brown eyes. His plump, wet pink lips rested just inches from yours, stealing all the air from your lungs. Moments passed and neither of you made an effort to release yourselves from each others’ grip. The client cleared their throat uncomfortably, snapping both of you out of your haze.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I wasn’t paying attention, the sky looked so pretty from up here and I-“ you rambled before V cut you off, lifting a hand to silence you.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” he inquired, those deep brown eyes laced with concern and a little amusement.

“I’m fine. I’m so sorry. It’s my first day and I’m so nervous about meeting Mr. Kim that I just…” you let your head fall while you took a breath, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. What is your name?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Y/N.” you supplied.

“Y/N…” he let it roll off his tongue like he was  savoring it, your heart thumped wildly in your chest. “Nice to meet you. I’m V. This is Jungkook.” He introduced.

The client awkwardly gave a sort of half-wave.

“Jungkook, let’s finish this negotiation downstairs. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a wonderful first day.” V grinned like he was laughing at an inside joke.

You half-bowed, half scurried away, making a beeline for your new desk. Phyllis, the woman you were being trained to replace in her retirement, shook her head, silver curls bouncing.

“What?” you questioned defensively.

She sniggered to herself before leaning in so she was close enough to speak without anyone else overhearing her. The words that left her mouth caused your soul to leave your body and chills of an entirely different nature to spread.

“Dry humping the CEO on your first day. What a lovely first impression.”

***

You cringed at the memory. She had taken so much joy in your embarrassment, howling with laughter as your jaw hit the floor. She didn’t really mean anything by it. Phyllis wasn’t a cruel person, but you didn’t miss the tiny pinch of evil in her sugary smile. You’d avoided V after that as much as you could, until 3:00 when his assistant, who had introduced himself as Jimin, came to fetch you for your orientation meeting. You wished you could hide under your desk and pretend you weren’t there, but you desperately needed this job and V signed your check so you really had no choice. You feigned confidence as Jimin held the door open for you and you stood across from the man in the plush leather chair.

“Good afternoon, Y/N. How’s your first day going?” He asked, almost  entirely professional if not for the sparkle in his eye.

“Well, Mr. Kim-“ you began.

“Call me V.” He interrupted.

“V,” you corrected, slightly uncomfortable with the familiar nickname, or maybe you were uncomfortable with the way he affected you, his smirk making your thighs clench in a hopefully unnoticeable way, “it has been memorable to say the least. I really do apologize for earlier, I had no idea you were… you.”

“No need to apologize. Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Publishing. I’m thrilled to have you aboard.” He flashed you a million dollar smile and stuck out his large hand to shake your smaller one.

As soon as your skin met his, your entire body felt like you’d been electro-charged. A small gasp left your lips, and V’s poker face slipped for only a fraction of a moment, but you saw it. He pulled away and ran his hand through his perfectly tousled black hair, clearing his throat.

He slipped back into his professional smile and continued to tell you about the company and your role. He liked to orient new hires himself, keeping himself involved and making sure that everyone felt valued at the company. He did expect a level of respect but was willing to return the favor.

He was funny without trying and put you at ease quickly. He answered all your questions politely and never made you feel less than. That was the beginning of the end for you. Less than one full day into your career at Kim Publishing and you were completely whipped for Kim Taehyung.

8 months later, you still had it bad for V. Obviously you wouldn’t do anything about it. Not only would you risk losing your job you’d worked so hard for, but someone as perfect as him would never look at you twice, not in that way. You sighed, flipping through the pages of the current manuscript on your desk, jotting down notes in one of your portable notebooks.

Misspelled “quota”

Replace said with exclaimed?

This book is awful

You erased the last one, feeling bad. If someone said that about what you had written, you’d be crushed. But how were you supposed to edit a story written by someone who couldn’t tell the difference between their, there, and they’re?! You hated not giving anyone a fair chance so you muddled through the story, trying your best to note ways to improve it so that it could possibly be published.

Finally reading the last line, you almost felt guilty placing the document in the “no” pile. Before you could move on to the next one, you heard his laughter floating down the hall, dancing around your ears and caressing your soul with longing. His laugh was musical. You loved it. You loved his voice, which you could also hear as he made conversation with the stout man to his left. He waved good morning to you as he walked by, gracing you with his perfect smile. You waved back and he disappeared from sight.

You reached in your drawer, pulling out your other notebook. This notebook stayed locked away in your desk drawer, you would lose your mind if anyone found it. This was where you kept your writing ideas. Most of them were your sexual fantasies about V, but one day they would work into an erotic novel that you could pitch to be published, under a fake name of course.

Ugh V looks amazing in those new work pants. What I wouldn’t give to be on my knees under his desk right now. I wonder if he’d be able to concentrate on that meeting with my lips wrapped around his cock. Fuck, V probably has such a nice dick. I want to taste it.

A knock at your office door had you scrambling to hide the notebook back in your drawer. You looked up to see Jimin standing in your doorway.

“Hey y/n. I have a family thing to get to and Mr. Kim really needed me to restock the coffee bar before his next client comes. I know it’s almost time to go but can you please help?” He pleaded, and you were no match for his puppy dog eyes.

“Sure, no problem.” You easily agreed, following him out of your office.

After refilling the coffee bar and straightening a few things in the break room, you made your way back to your office and made yourself comfortable in your chair. You began reading the next manuscript and reached for your notebook to make a suggestion about not mixing tenses. It wasn’t on your desk. You looked at the floor, wondering if you’d dropped it. Nope. You searched under things and between things but couldn’t see the little book anywhere. You huffed in frustration and opened your drawer to get a new one.

You pulled out the top one and opened the cover. Oh there it was! You hadn’t lost your notes! You smiled to yourself and began writing suggestions, wondering why you’d put the filled- in notebook in that drawer. Must have been when Jimin startled you. You smiled at yourself and kept writing. Until you realized that’s where your dirty notebook should’ve been. You froze.

Opening the drawer back up, you searched through the notebooks. All of them were new and blank. Your erotic thoughts about your boss were no where to be found. You took deep breaths, convincing yourself not to panic. You started searching through every item in that damned office, picking up speed the longer you went without finding the notebook.

More and more people went home as the day began to wind down. You were sure you were the only one left. Your office was all but destroyed and you couldn’t find the stupid fucking notebook. Had someone found it? Surely they wouldn’t know it was yours right? Your name wasn’t in it.

You went back to the break room in a last ditch effort, thinking maybe you’d stupidly carried it in there? You searched high and low, placing your head in your hands when it did not appear. You didn’t hear him approach, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard him clear his throat from the doorway.

“Ah! V! You scared me. I thought I was the only one here.” You said, hand gripping your shirt in an effort to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said, voice low and cautious. “What are you still doing here?”

“I um… misplaced something and I can’t find it.” You explained vaguely.

“Oh. What was it?” His brown eyes seemed almost black as he watched your every move.

“Ummm.. a notebook.” You admitted, voice higher than you’d intended.

“Oh. This one?” He asked, his gaze burning into yours as he held up your missing book.

Your jaw dropped and your heart sank. Oh shit you were so fired. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

“Perhaps we should discuss this in my office.” He offered, turning and leading the way down the hall.

He gestured for you to sit opposite of him, the large desk between the two of you. You waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, you opened your mouth, apologies spewing out. He silently watched you, and when you finally fell silent, he picked up the book and opened it. You cringed as his eyes fell on the pages.

“I want V to bend me over his desk and take me. I want to feel his big, warm hands on my body. I want to feel his thick, throbbing cock inside me. Would he be rough or gentle? He seems like the dominant type in bed. His whole being just screams ‘power’. Maybe I should write about both. He could also have a tender side, he is so sweet.” He read aloud, your entire face was flushed with embarrassment and shame.

He turned the page and continued.

“If I have to sit through another meeting with V in those tight fitting slacks I will cum on the spot. He could make any woman melt with just a look. His voice is enough to get me off. That would be a hot scene.”

“Every time V says my name, I can’t help imagining what it would be like to hear him moan it instead. Working here is driving me insane.”

He looked up from the book, placing it flat on the desk between the two of you. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he finally looked up at you, you were so full of shame you couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Y/N. Look at me.” He commanded with an authority you’d never heard from him before. Despite your current shame, you felt moisture pooling between your legs at his dominating tone.

You glanced up and found Kim Taehyung staring into your soul with the most lust-filled eyes you’d ever seen. A whisper of a gasp left your lips as electricity shot through you, straight to your core. You did your best not to squirm in your seat but failed, the intensity of his steamy gaze making you quiver.

V rose from his desk chair and spun yours around so that you were facing him. He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he spoke lowly.

“I’ve been rock hard since I found your book. I couldn’t stop picturing that tight little ass bent over my desk, couldn’t stop thinking about filling that pretty little pussy. You paint quite the picture, Y/N.” He breathed.

You clenched your thighs together, almost whimpering at how bad you wanted him. Never in a million years did you think Kim Taehyung would be whispering dirty things in your ear.

“I didn’t know you were such a naughty girl.” He smirked, leaning back and licking his lips as his eyes traveled down your body to your legs, pressed together under your skirt.

V put a finger under your chin, lifting your face so that your gazes met. His lips found yours in a flash, claiming you. You were immediately putty in his hands as his plump mouth worked against your own. His tongue snuck out and found its way to yours, deliciously intertwining. You were so immersed in the kiss, you almost didn’t notice when his large palm came to rest on your knee. Almost.

His fingers danced along your skin teasingly, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. Tantalizingly slowly, his hand made its way up your thighs, so close to where you wanted him the most, but not nearly close enough. His lips parted from your own, and you were about to protest the loss of contact before they were reattached at your neck. Soft whines left your throat as he sucked and nipped at the skin below your ear, leaving reddish-purple bruises in his wake. He was marking you, and while that should’ve put you off, it only caused the dampness in your panties to increase. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to his greedy lips. His fingers ran teasingly over your clothed core.

“Shit. You’re already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.” he mused, pride apparent in his tone.

“Didn’t you read the part where I get wet just from the sound of your voice? Are you really surprised?” you countered in a moment of bravery.

Desire flashed in his dark eyes as his gaze bore into you with such intensity, you almost couldn’t take it.

“Oh baby girl… I am going to ruin you.” he growled, yanking you up out of your chair and dragging you towards your office. He tossed your purse to you and hurriedly led you towards the exit.

Your hands linked together were the only place he touched you once you were out of his office. There were cameras everywhere, you both knew that, but the anticipation was driving you wild. He squeezed your hand every so often, purposefully bumping against the side of your leg. He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You look so sexy like this, all flushed and ready to be fucked. It’s taking every bit of self control not to push you up against the wall and eat that pretty pussy right here.” though his voice was a whisper, it came out as a growl, almost primal.

The whimper that left you involuntarily placed a smirk on his plump lips.

“Mmm… so needy for me, aren’t you baby?” he teased.

You glared at him but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. He tugged you out of the elevator and over to his shiny new car, opening the door for you and allowing you to slide inside before he gently closed it and came around to enter the driver’s side.

The car roared to life and V sped out of the parking garage towards his place. In a moment of bravery, your hand found his inner thigh, rubbing seemingly innocent circles there. His breath hitched, and his eyes narrowed on the road, trying to concentrate and not crash, though your fingers were extremely distracting. You noticed his cock twitch inside his slacks, and your mouth watered. You wondered how dangerous road head was, then thought against it. You wanted to live long enough to fuck him.

After what felt like forever, but was probably closer to five minutes, you pulled up in front of a swanky apartment complex, and V led you up the stairs to his apartment. When he opened the door and ushered you in, you were in awe with how gorgeous it was. Did he have an interior decorator or did he really just have impeccable taste? He watched you with amused eyes as you surveyed the surroundings. You felt his warmth behind you as he leaned in, breath tickling your ear.

“I can give you the grand tour if you’d like later, but right now I really just want you in my bed.” he said, his tongue darting out and licking along the shell of your ear and sending shivers throughout your entirety.

You pressed yourself up against him, attaching your lips to his in a heated kiss. Slowly, he walked you backwards down the hall, never breaking the delicious dance your tongues were engaged in as he led you to his room. You fell back on his large bed, and his body hovered over yours instantly. Feeling his whole body on top of yours was heavenly, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took heavy breaths, feel the rapid beating of his heart.

His hands snaked their way down to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off your body. You were pretty sure you heard it rip in his haste but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not with the way his eyes wandered over your skin in amazement. He picked up your hand and kissed your wrist, slowly making his way up your arm to your neck. He leaned down and placed soft, chaste kisses along your collarbone and the tops of your breast that your bra didn’t cover, before discarding that too.

His lips wrapped around your nipples, causing a groan to erupt from deep within you. His tongue circled the sensitive nub as his large hand kneaded and gently pinched the other. His teeth grazed your nipple slightly, making you gasp at the shockwave it sent through you. His blazing kisses made their way down your stomach, as though he was worshiping every inch of your exposed skin. You sighed contentedly before deciding he was wearing too many clothes.

You reached up and began unbuttoning his dress shirt, slowly revealing his decadently  tanned skin. Your mouth watered with each new inch revealed. He threw it carelessly across the room once you’d gotten all the buttons undone, and you stared at his chest as your own fluttered. He was so fucking beautiful. You reached up and trailed your fingers along  his abdomen, gently brushing along his nipples and earning a quiet groan as you traced the lines of his abs.

He patiently waited, letting you admire his body above yours, legs on either side of you, caging you in. You glanced up into his eyes and were surprised to find fondness there. You blushed and looked away. You felt his body shake as he chuckled. Using one swift motion, he pulled down your skirt and panties, tossing them aside. Your arousal was dripping down your legs and you would’ve felt ashamed if you hadn’t caught the way his eyes lit up at the sight of your dripping core.

He began placing kisses along your inner thigh, teasing you. Just like he had been in his office, he was so close to where you wanted him but not nearly close enough.

“So wet for me baby. So pretty.” he praised, causing your chest to constrict with pride. “You don’t know how many times I’ve daydreamed about tasting you. How many nights I got off to the thought of making you cum on my tongue.”

His dirty words had you clenching around nothing, and he smirked. He leaned down, licking a bold stripe between your folds.

“Oh fuck-” left your lips before you could stop yourself and V chuckled from his position nestled between your thighs, vibrations running right to your clit.

You bucked your hips at the sensation, and V slid one hand up to hold you down as his tongue began its assault on your sensitive nub. You couldn’t control your soft moans when his tongue swirled around your clit and he inserted one of his long fingers deep into your heat. They felt even better than you imagined they would. V slowly added a second finger and curled them expertly to hit that spot inside of you that had you wriggling on the bed.

He added a third finger, the stretch burning for only a moment before pleasure took over. Between his fingers pumping into you and his tongue dancing on your clit, you couldn’t hold back anymore, his name falling from your lips over and over while you rode out your high on his skilled tongue. V rose from between your thighs with a satisfied smile on his lips. The same lips that were dripping with your juices. He ran his tongue along them before pressing them to yours, letting you taste yourself.

“Holy shit.” you complimented.

“Enjoy yourself? I know I did.” V purred, bringing your lips together once more and tugging your bottom one between his teeth slowly.

Could this man be any sexier? Fuck.

“Mmm… yes. Now let me return the favor.” you grinned, popping open the button on his slacks.

“Baby girl, as much as I would love to have your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, I really need to be inside you.” he told you. You shuddered under his hungry gaze.

“Then why aren’t you fucking me?” you threw back at him.

Something flashed in V’s eyes that you couldn’t quite place before he was tearing his clothes off of his body and reaching into his bedside drawer for a foil square. Your mouth fell open when his thick cock was released from its confines. You’d always imagined he’d have a big one, but damn. He was long, thick, and dripping precum. His length was absolutely delicious looking, throbbing with want.

“Like what you see?” he grinned cockily, but he had every reason to be.

“Love what I see.” you licked your lips seductively.

V winked at you while he rolled the condom on and lined himself at your entrance. When he slid himself inside of you, you felt like you were being torn in two, brought back together, lifted from your body. The pain lasted only a few seconds before the indescribable pleasure took over. Breathless noises fell past his lips as he moved slowly, waiting to make sure you had adjusted.

“Fuck, V-please.” you pleaded, needing him to move.

No sooner than you’d taken another shaky breath, V was giving his all and pounding into you so wonderfully, you were sure you’d die of pleasure. He filled you up so perfectly, like he was made to be inside you. You were made for the sole purpose of fucking Kim Taehyung.  The only word you could manage to form coherently was the call of his name as he fucked into you so good you couldn’t focus on anything but him and the way he made you feel.

Each thrust brought you closer to your high, and each grunt and moan from him proved he was losing his mind just as must as you were. Without warning, his hand came up to cup your neck, pressing in on either side. Sweat pooled on his temples and he watched you with hungry eyes as your own widened in surprise. You leaned your head back to give him better access while never breaking eye contact.

V grinned victoriously, adding slight pressure to his hold on your neck, careful not to press too hard. Your fists gripped the sheets as everything became too much, you were so close, and all you could do to warn him was whine his name desperately.

“Cum on my cock, let go for me baby.” he commanded, and who were you to argue?

Your orgasm swept over you, pulling you to new heights you’d never felt before. White spots clouded your vision and your back arched off the bed into Tae’s body. Your moans turned high pitched and your whole body shook with the euphoria washing through you. V rode you through your high, milking it for all it was worth, and when you finally came down, body falling limply on the bed, his movements became sloppy and desperate. His own climax finally claiming him and his O face, the noises he made, they were the hottest thing you’d ever heard in your life.

He fell next to you on the bed, both of you breathing so hard you couldn’t even talk. He discarded the used condom and turned to you, pulling your head into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You were overwhelmed with a feeling of safety and comfort, the feeling of home. For the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged. You felt like you belonged wrapped in the warm embrace of Kim Taehyung. You snuggled closer to him and he hummed appreciatively. Soon, you were both asleep in each others’ arms, too spent from the best sex of your life to do anything else.

Waking up next to Taehyung was both the most comforting thing you’d ever felt, and also the most terrifying. You’d just slept with your boss. The CEO of your company. You were fairly certain he’d wanted you to stay the night after wrapping you up in his arms, but did he want you here when he woke up? You’d felt like you’d finally found home wrapped up in his strong embrace, but did he? As if your thoughts had summoned him, he rolled over, stretching his arms above his head and smiling at you.

“Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?” he asked.

“Best sleep I’ve ever had.” you admitted, cheeks turning bright red as you hid your face in your hands.

He grinned and shot up, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head as he trapped your body under his on the bed.

“Don’t hide that gorgeous face from me.” he tutted, feigning offense.

“V!” you whined, your whole face flushing.

He chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on your lips before lifting himself off of you. He pulled on a pair of boxers and looked over at you sweetly.

“Coffee?” he inquired.

“Please. Two sugars?” you smiled appreciatively.

He nodded and disappeared into the rest of the apartment to fulfill your request. You changed into one of his work shirts to cover yourself, settling back into the bed. He brought back two steaming cups of coffee and handed yours to you, watching you carefully as you brought it to your lips and took a sip, sighing happily as the warm liquid coated your tongue.

“You look so beautiful like this.” Tae spoke suddenly, quietly.

“In your clothes?” you giggled.

“In my clothes, in my bed, happy.” he smiled, “I hope I get to see this side of you often.”

“I’m yours as long as you want me.” you blushed, taking a drink to hide the blush growing on your cheeks.

His answer was taking the coffee from you and setting it down before placing a soft kiss on yours.

[star-killer-md]

Happy Hunting

A/N: Hello everyone, two updates in one week I know. Very out of character for me. Anyway, this is my first like actively dark fic so please be warned and mind the tags, it is dead dove. This has been sitting in my docs since October and I’m excited to get it out. There will be a part two to this with way more smut if y’all want it. And of course credit to @direnightshade for coming up with serial killer!Charlie, go check her out! Thanks to @sacklersdoll as well for being an absolute babe and reading over this for me. 

Warnings: Dead Dove, mentions of murder, mentions of fantasized violence against reader, Charlie is a murderer in this so ya know, drugs used on a non-reader character, mentions of blood, mentions of sex, implied noncon, stalking behavior, allusions to predator/prey dynamics reader is implied afab/fem presenting but no pronouns are used for them, once again, this is a dark fic so be mindful of the tags and let me know if I’ve missed one. 

Part 2

Ship: Serial Killer!Charlie x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Charlie is branching out, searching for some new hunting spots when he finds the perfect next victim. Soon he decides he wants more than to simply add you to his body count, but murder is tricky and not everything goes as he planned. 

He’d been frequenting different bars as of late, branching out into new territory. There were rules to these games, after all—rules to the hunt, rules to keep it sustainable. Charlie knew well by now that staying in the same place for too long would only deplete his selection of targets. And he couldn’t have anyone making connections, so he moved around but always stuck to what he knew. 

That was another rule: never hunt on unfamiliar land. It was just asking for trouble. With such a sensitive, calculated act, one could never afford any random variables. 

This was how he’d been so successful. 

He knew the rules, he played by them and he reaped the rewards. 

And he had just found his next victim. 

You were ordering a drink, lovely figure bent over the bar top while you waited. The curve of your back, exposed by the sheer lack of fabric, and the flicker of your tongue over the rim of the glass told him all he needed to know. 

Yes, you would be a perfect addition to his collection. 

But this was still too new, too fresh. So he settled for watching, memorizing the way your throat moved when you swallowed and the crease of your thighs as you crossed them. His hands itched to spread you apart, see how wet he knew you’d be. Soon, he reminded himself. 

Patience was the mark of a good hunter, and he’d have you in his hands if he simply waited for the most opportune moment. He’d get to watch your throat collapse under his weight and feel the fluttering of your cunt as he fucked you through the fear. 

It would be glorious. 

And well worth the wait. 

***

One week later saw him back in the same bar, ordering a drink and watching as you swayed to the soft music playing. He knew you’d be here, Charlie had a sense about these things. 

It helped as well that he’d trailed you to your apartment, curiously far away from this section of the city. But you seemed to spend quite a bit of time in this area. Took walks in the park nearby, and stopped in the odd cafe every so often. Maybe you worked around here, he hadn’t quite figured that out yet. Though, it had only been a week. And where you worked wasn’t all that important to him. 

No, what was important was now. 

Now that he was sipping his Old Fashioned and watching you make eyes at another man across the room. 

He was shorter than Charlie, but not by much. The way he stumbled a bit when crossing the dance floor to you told him your new admirer had more than a bit to drink as well. 

What an amateur. 

You didn’t seem to mind, though, as you guided his hands to your waist and moved your hips with such fluidity, Charlie couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he’d wanted to. This man with his dark hair and hands that engulfed you let you lead him in clumsy circles, trailing like a puppy. 

He was very nearly drooling and you knew it. 

Charlie sneered and nursed his drink, taking it all in. The way your feet avoided being trodden on, the way you pretended not to notice when the man’s hands wandered lower, the way you glanced up through your lashes and smirked when he followed your lips with his. 

All so practiced. 

But the lumbering idiot grabbing handfuls of your ass in front of the whole bar was so predictable, Charlie wasn’t surprised in the least. 

You wouldn’t look so self assured when you were with him. 

Charlie was too full of surprises. 

He was something you’d never encountered before. 

And wouldn’t again, he thought with a chuckle. He’d be your best and your last and that was how it should be. 

Charlie knocked back the last of his drink, setting his glass down on the counter as you led your new find in his obnoxious, neon green sneakers off towards the doors. Your eyes never left the man trailing behind you, locked in place even as you disappeared into the New York night. 

He wouldn’t go after you this time. 

But soon, he thought. Soon those pretty eyes would find him and wouldn’t he be a magnificent last sight?

***

Charlie was trying something new again. Dangerous maybe, but progress was never made without taking a few risks. 

So here he was, walking through a park in broad daylight. It was the same one he’d seen you only days before, walking through the canopy of leaves that were so hard to find in the city. There was a bench positioned right under a few limbs that were already shedding red and brown onto the asphalt path. He sat on the cold metal and waited. 

You’d show up momentarily. He had learned you came here around this time in the afternoon during the week. Always dragging your feet through the grass and staring at the sky while you walked the little looping path. Maybe you came for inspiration. It was a nice place to write, he thought. He’d have to bring his notebook next time. 

That could be his keepsake from you, this place. He could come to this bench and sit and remember how you looked scuffing your heels in the dirt, facing up to the heavens. 

Just like you were now. 

Right on time as well. You’d always stuck him as a creature of habit, something he supposed you both had in common. 

Your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, collar turned up against the wind. He watched the subtle shake of your spine, working its way from your head down to your fingers as you shivered in the cold. 

His teeth caught his lip, sucking it between them as he thought of all the ways he could warm you, make your skin sticky with sweat and cum and blood, make you tremble all over again with the pleasure from his cock sinking into your warm, wet cunt. Charlie could quite nearly taste the hazy tang of you on his tongue, feel the way your thighs would tense and pull to pin his head, but he’d want you tied down. He’d need you splayed out and restrained, he could already tell—having only observed you this short time—you’d be a fighter. 

And didn’t that make you the best kind of prey?

He loved it when they fought, when they struggled, when they kicked and spit and bit at his hands. Or when they were so broken, bloody and hopeless and crawling on their knees, scrambling to get away. 

There was something in the way their eyes looked, something primal, like they knew what he was. Like they knew he was a hunter, a predator, and they were trapped under his claws. Wild and insatiable and delicious. 

He was hard in his pants just thinking about it—at the images his mind concocted. You with your sultry hips swaying in the dim bar light and that locked in look in your eyes. You, in that barely there clothing and the set of your jaw that says you’re just begging for him to catch you in his snare. 

He knew you wanted it, even if you didn’t quite yet. 

Charlie’s hand dropped down to palm at his throbbing length, his long coat covering most of the movement. It was cool enough that no one else but the two of you had wondered out this late in the day. So he brushed over the sensitive head of his cock and watched you making circles around the path until you stopped. 

That was new. That was a break in the pattern, and it made his hand pause. 

You froze and planted your feet on the earth, staring intently into a little copse of trees and shrubs. The barrier of leaves formed a small hidden space that you slip into easily, practiced and lithe like a cat weaving through iron bars. He could only catch glimpses of your face from between the branches, tilted up with eyes closed. 

You looked alive, that was really the only way he could put it. Charlie watched as the shadow of your body lowered itself onto the cold dirt and breathed in the scent of the dying foliage. Under the curve of the roots he could see it: your face scrunched up, lips parted, plump and bitten with your chin tilted back towards the sky. 

He couldn’t look away from the strange display. 

Couldn’t help but feel like he knew the look on your face. 

***

This time, running into you really was an accident. 

He was just stopping for coffee, on his way to work and rushing. Traffic was bad, but it was his turn to run for drinks and there would be an uproar if he showed up empty handed. And there you were, headphones in and seated right by one of the windows in the little cafe. 

Your face was half lit by the laptop screen you were leaning over. Writing, he supposed based on the way your fingers flew across the keys. So nimble, he thought, how skilled those hands must be. How lovely they’d look wrapped around his dick, lips spilling drool and split open— 

“What can I get started for you today?” the barista asked. 

Charlie’s head whipped back around to the overly cheery face behind the counter. He frowned, throwing glances back at you while he rattled off his list of orders. 

“Alrighty, can I get a name for the order?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw your fingers still on the keys, “Charlie is fine.” 

“Great, I’ll get that out for you as soon as I can.” 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, tucking his wallet away and moving to lean against the far wall. 

From here he could look at you head on while everyone else would simply assume he was staring out the window, watching the way today’s light drizzle had doused the city in sepia grayscale lighting. You had gone back to typing, foot tapping on the rough wood floors. He studied your legs, the way they bounced to whatever rhythm was playing in your ears. 

They’d look good shaking, he thought, crawling breathlessly away and scrambling against the cool tile of his kitchen. 

What a joy it was to see you so unexpectedly. Certainly one of the better parts of this morning, even if it was a bit strange as well. This part of the city was a considerable distance from your apartment building. Maybe you liked the shop too, stumbled across it the way his crew had and been drawn in by the aesthetics and quiet atmosphere. Charlie didn’t have many regular stomping grounds but this place was one of them. 

If he was a better man, he might have taken you to coffee here, participated in banal small talk and gotten to know your favorite authors, where you worked and what a creature like you did there. If you hated your boss, if you were quiet about it, if you sent emails with exclamation points to seem friendly and non-confrontational. 

But this was sort of like a date. He had learned something new about you every time, even if you weren’t aware of it. In time, he’d learn even more, see all of you. See what you looked like in your purest form—primal fear in your eyes and blood on your lips. 

And you would get to know about him as well, in time. He’d show you everything, all of it. 

With every new meeting, the feeling grew stronger. 

This wasn’t just about the kill anymore. 

You would be the one, Charlie knew it in his gut. Different from the others who fell so witlessly into his trap, took the bait and barely had the wherewithal to even struggle as he reeled them in. They were dead fish on his hook, limp and rotting before he could drag them to shore. 

But not you. 

You were alive and kicking and perfect. 

You would be so good for him. 

“Charlie!” the barista called, breaking him from his reverie. 

As he swooped in to grab the two drink trays and hurried back out into the rain, he stole one last glance in your direction. 

Silhouetted by an errant ray of sunlight, you struck an immaculate picture. So much so that he missed the way your eyes trailed him out the door, catching on the edge of his coat and following him out into the gloom of the New York streets. 

But he was too busy engraving the image of your slightly curved spine, the arch of your shoulders and neck, to notice your stare on him all the way down the block until he melted into the background of the city. 

***

It was late and Charlie felt worn thin. The subway platform was crowded as always, despite the hour encroaching closely on midnight. They really were true, all those awful cliches about how the city never sleeps. 

He sighed, moved farther to the tile wall so he could avoid being tossed into the tracks by the rustling of passersby. There were dozens of people shuffling around on their tired feet, bitching about any number of things or playing music too loud. The smell of stale piss and the bleach public transit staff used to mask it was even stronger after the rain. Charlie wrinkled his nose against the onslaught and watched the westbound train come and go, rattling like a bull down the tracks and sweeping away passengers as it went. A slip of paper from the wall fluttered off in the draft and settled in a puddle on the ground. 

And a familiar face stared up at him. 

Large black text framed the photo. “MISSING” it read in all caps that quickly dissolved in the New York rain water. Rain here had a tendency to wash away everything just when he needed it the most. He reminisced about the way her blood had slipped down the sewer grates so easily, leaving his shoes free of any evidence. 

She had been particularly sloppy—not something to be proud of—but Charlie was nothing if not adaptive.

He learned from his mistakes.

His eyes flicked over the subway wall and was met with a plethora of blank xerox faces staring back. Most were young, photos taken from cell phones with lips stretched wide and smiling. There were more than a few men as well. Those he did not recognize, with dark hair and dark eyes, and arrogance clear even in pictures. Some of the others he did know, with softer looks—he always had a weak spot for faces like that. 

But they were nothing like you. Besides, all that pretty had melted away so quickly under the knife. And you would be different. 

You would bear him well.  

You would look so pretty hanging from the subway walls, grinning out from the tile or the occasional telephone pole. Charlie didn’t think he’d mind it much if someone made a poster for you. That way he’d get a pleasant surprise while walking down the city streets when he was coming home late like this and had been away from you for too long. 

It had been so long since he’d seen you last. Opening night was quickly approaching and work had been taking up far too much time. It had gotten to the point that he saw your face in every crowd. Walking from the station to his apartment he’d see you in the figures smoking on a neighboring balcony or in the cereal aisle at the grocery store or mingling with the backstage crew out behind the theater. 

And now as well.

In the crowd, peeking out from behind one of the dusty, graffiti-covered columns, he swore that were standing—the curve of your back, the set of your shoulders, the lock of your jaw. Charlie’s feet moved without his noticing, carrying him towards you. 

In the distance, the northbound train was approaching, he could feel the rumble of it in his bones as he pushed and maneuvered a trail through the crowd, but you were still slipping away. Faster than him and smaller, weaving easily through bystanders without notice. 

The train rushed past him, blowing locks of hair into his face that whipped at his eyes and forced him to stop. He cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair and trying to catch sight of you again. Though as he looked closer, the figure retreating was just another faceless traveler, their gate was similar but not quite the same, steps too short and heavy. 

Charlie felt scoffed at himself, at the shameless desperation, and allowed the tide of people to sweep him into the train compartment. 

His hand gripped the standing rail hard in a fist and his eyes stared out onto the platform, tiled wall of monochrome faces staring back. He looked out until it disappeared as the subway roared down the tracks once again and left them all behind. 

***

He was finally here. 

Finally after weeks of rehearsals running into the small hours of the morning and a mess of late night dinners, rounds of drinks with cast mates, he was finally here. 

In your bar, watching you dance again in the dim light. 

Charlie would never tire of the sight, the way you moved to the music was addicting in its own right. He’d only just wandered in less than an hour ago, ordered his usual and taken a seat at the bar. From here he had the perfect view, the door was behind him so escape was simple and you were visible just across the table top, swaying to the soft beat. 

He wanted so badly to devour you. 

It was a hunger the likes of which he had never known. It made him reckless, excited him as nothing had in so long. He’d always heard hunters talk about their most prized prey. Seen the massive antlers hung on walls in sets and in film, and he understood it now. You were a trophy, a wonder of nature and he would be the one to win you. 

Keep you in your own trophy room for him to see you dance like that whenever he wanted. 

There were not many people tonight, so you were still swaying alone, not having found a partner  yet for the night as you had done before. 

Charlie was stuck on the way your jugular was highlighted amongst the shadows of neon lights when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He was nearly blinded by the bright white screen as he read the notification for an incoming call from his stage manager. 

Shit.

He left his drink at the bar and stepped away for a moment, to the corner farther from the speakers and swiped to answer. She sounded frantic, muttering and hard to hear over the music. His supporting actress had broken her wrist from what he was able to gather, an understudy was being arranged. He huffed and thanked her, asking to be kept updated and saying that no, he absolutely could not give his input at this very moment, he was, in fact, preoccupied. 

When she finally consented to calling back later, he turned and immediately stopped in his tracks. You were there, standing at the bar right next to his abandoned seat and staring right into his eyes. There was a subtle smile playing at your lips, and you rested an elbow on the counter, never breaking your gaze as he slowly walked back. 

Had he been caught? 

Charlie cleared his throat and cursed his racing heart. A sweaty palm combed through his hair as joined you at the bar. Your smile only grew. 

“Mind if I join you?”

He nearly choked on his spit. 

“No, of course not,” he grabbed his glass and you clinked yours against the rim. 

You both sipped, and he tried not to stare too long at how your arms looked resting on the wood. This was...not something he had anticipated. But leave it to you to surprise him. 

“Do you come here often?” you asked, swirling the liquor in your cup. 

Odd that you hadn’t asked his name, but then again, he hadn’t bothered to ask yours either. He knew the constants and vowels of it by heart. 

“I wouldn’t say often,” he shrugged and took a long drink, something to numb him a bit and calm the shaking in his hands. “Only when it’s convenient.” 

“It’s nice here,” you said. “I like the crowd.” 

“Yeah?” Charlie didn’t know how to reply. He hadn’t expected to actually speak with you so soon. 

“No one really comes in to talk, if you know what I mean.” You pulled your lip between your teeth and nibbled at it. 

He could feel his cock twitch in his jeans at the way you bit at the flesh. 

“Is that so,” he mused. 

The look you gave him was succulent, mouthwatering and exquisite, “Wanna dance?”

He shouldn’t. It wasn’t time. There was an order to these things, there were rules and this was breaking them but, oh fuck you just kept looking at him and he was going to drown in how good it was. Charlie downed the rest of his drink and let you take his hand, pulling him slowly into the crowd of other dancers. Just as he had watched you do a dozen times, like he fantasized you’d to do with him. 

Dancing was never really his thing but when you placed his big palms on your hips and let him feel you sway, his feet found their place. You turned in his grip—back to his chest and ass pressed to his front—and moved. 

His vision tunneled. Homing in until the room melted away and there was nothing but your body and his hands. 

***

The streets were dark and empty, but your hand was so scaldingly hot in his that Charlie barely noticed. 

“Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Your voice rang out in his head. The music and the lights were brighter and louder and everything grew hazy the longer he touched you. 

God, he shouldn’t. 

It wasn’t time and hunting had rules but…

But this could be good. Go back to your place, learn the way in, maybe where you keep your keys, the door code and placement of security cameras—make it much easier on himself further down the line when you were ready. When he could take you. 

There were leaves crunching under his feet and the night seemed to grow darker and darker as you led him forward. 

“We can cut through here,” you said, turning to flash him another smile, tugging at his arm and making him stumble. 

He was losing track of where his limbs existed in space, strange since he’d only had the one drink. His eyes were dry trying to adjust to the pitch blackness he was so unused to. It never got this dark in the city, too much light pollution but there were barely any shadows here, too far away from the bustling center of town. 

Something cold and metal brushed his thigh as he followed you deeper into the darkness and towards the twinkling street lamps in the distance. 

The bench, he realized, where he sat and observed you walking your circles. 

This was the park. 

The copse of trees was just ahead. 

Charlie knew where you lived, somewhere far into midtown and not near here. Something unfamiliar was taking over him. His mouth felt thick, his face beaded with sweat and his chest was growing tighter by the minute. This was wrong, he should go, but his legs were like lead and as much as he tried to wrench his hand from your grip...he couldn’t. 

The shrubs caught on his pants as you yanked hard on his arm and sent him tumbling forward into the dirt. He tried to catch himself, but his arms stayed limp at his sides. Face down, he landed with earth and dried leaves sticking to his cheeks. Your weight settled on top of him, thighs gripping his hips and hands planted on either side of his head. 

“You bitch,” he gasped into the ground. “What did you give me?” 

“It’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with,” your breath was so hot on his ear, tongue flicking out to lick up the shell of it and bite down hard on the lobe. 

“You fucking whore,” Charlie hissed, trying to throw you off. He wanted to pin you down, fuck the plans he’d choke you out right here, right now. Wrap his big hands around your throat and watch you claw and grasp at him— 

You were supposed to be perfect. 

Supposed to be his. 

Your nails skimmed up his scalp, grabbing a handful of his hair and jerking it back. His neck strained as you pressed your cheek to his, other hand coming to cup his jaw harshly. 

“Listen to me you arrogant piece of shit,” you snarled, no honey sweetness dripping from your lips now. He still wanted desperately to taste them. “I’m assuming you're new to this game so let me explain some things to you. Now be a good boy and listen, yeah?” 

Charlie tried to shake his head from your grip, work your fingers into his mouth and bite but your hand slipped to his throat and tightened just enough to restrict the blood pulsing through his carotid. He stilled, pursing his lips and nodded.

“Much better,” you whispered. He could only make out the blur of your face from his peripheral, feel the heat of your skin pressed to his. “There is one rule and only one to this dance of ours, do you know what it is?” 

He grit his teeth, silent until your nails ripped into his hair again and he groaned as the strands separated from his scalp

“Why don’t you tell me,” he bit the ‘t’ and waited. 

“You never shoot another hunter, dumbass,” you spat. “You make sure whatever the fuck you go after it isn’t wearing a bright orange fucking vest.” 

“What?” he was panting now, the ground fading in and out as his vision went dark. 

“Did you know prey animals never have forward facing eyes?” you stroked a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Cause they’re always looking out, always watching the horizon for predators and the sign of a good predator is that we never let them catch us.”

Charlie’s neck grew weaker, the only thing holding him up was your hands on his throat and buried in his silky hair. 

“So the next time you go scoping for your next pretty young thing to kill, make sure it can’t look you in both eyes.” 

“You, you’re—” his speech was slurred, the words tumbling out in a jumble. 

Is this what they felt like? All the others when he was tying them down and preparing for the slaughter. 

“Yeah. So next time you think about branching out, don’t,” you let his head drop to the dirt and pressed his nose into the soil. 

This is where you took yours. That man with the neon sneakers. When laid here, when he watched you breath in the earth. This is where you came to remember. 

“These are my grounds, so stay the fuck off of them,” you slid off his back, pressing a knee into his hip and pushing so he flopped over limply on the leaf litter. “I won’t be so nice next time.” 

He watched blearily as you leaned over him, settling back and straddling his lap. You rocked your hips once lazily against his cock, still half hard and tenting in his jeans. “Pity I’m letting you go, you’re exactly my type.” 

Charlie swallowed, tongue like chalk as the world faded out around him. You leaned in close, patting his cheek twice and chuckling. It was so dark in this part of New York, he could actually see the stars as you shifted away and sauntered off into the night. Your parting words echoed in his head as he stared, immobile, up at the night sky.

“Happy hunting, Charlie.” 

[sassyhazelowl]

Title: Life is What You Bake It Rating: PG - a few swear words, comedic violence Pairing: Lyon x Erza Secondary Pairings: Lucy x Levy, Gray x Lisanna A/N: A challenge piece. 10k in 10 days. Random pairing, random genre, random AU setting. Bakery AU. @dragonshost @impracticaldemon

Link to Full Story in Google Docs - Comments welcome and appreciated :)

Chapter 8

Well, if working around Erza had been difficult before, it was practically unbearable now.

“Gone nocturnal, huh?” Gray commented as he continued working on his sculpture. 

It was funny. As kids they could barely stand each other, as teens they hated each other, and as adults Lyon was willingly spending his free time hanging out with his brother.

Not that there were many other people he knew in the area - despite what he told Erza at the beginning of the summer, he hadn’t gone out of his way to get to know people outside of the bakery. What was the point? He was planning to leave in a little over a month anyway.

Summer was almost over, and plans hadn’t changed.

“It is quiet if I go in early.”

“And Erza isn’t there,” Gray observed, his eyes on the curve of wood he was sanding. “There’s early, and there’s keeping the owls company, Lyon.”

He could stutter out some excuses and deny everything. Gray would pretend to believe him and the subject would be dropped. But he was too weary to fight it.

“You said she was not my type,” Lyon accused quietly, without venom.

Gray reached for a can of lacquer and admitted bluntly, “I lied. She’s totally your type. Stubborn, socially awkward, proud, hardworking and genuine. But that’s not why I hooked you up with the job. Bro, I wish I had a picture of you at the beginning of the summer. You looked like crap before, all stressed and high-strung and pale as a snowman. You didn’t need a girlfriend; you needed some time to work on you and rest. Do you want me to talk to her for you?”

Before Lyon could answer, his phone buzzed. He almost ignored it, since it was mostly robocallers and scammers that had his number. But his previous job had conditioned him too well.

‘can u cum? emergen-c!!! :( :( :(’

Lyon’s lips pinched at the Freudian slip on Erza’s text but didn’t comment. He sincerely hoped auto-correct had struck again.

“You,” he pointed at Gray seriously, “Are not off the hook about tricking me. But we will speak later.”

Gray looked duly unimpressed. “Are you threatening me?”

“Promising. Be ready.”

Rushing over to the bakery, he wasn’t sure if he should brace himself for the entire place burned down to the ground or being out of whipped cream. Erza had a skewed sense of priorities sometimes.

So far, so good. No police. No fire trucks. No ambulance. Nothing amiss in the parking lot, which housed a number of customer cars. Heaving a sigh of relief, he pushed his way through the front doors and let out a slightly strangled scream of surprise. 

And tried to jump into Erza’s arms.

Lyon had never told anyone this, but he was terrified of dogs.

“Lyon?”

Fortunately for him, Erza’s reflexes were good, and she didn’t have those muscles for nothing. It wasn’t the most graceful of catches, but he didn’t splat on the floor into the clutches of the monster either.

He clung there for a good, long moment before Erza came to her senses and dropped him. If he hadn’t been focused on the beast, he might have heard some clicks of photographic evidence. Instead, he scrambled out of the animal’s reach as it clumsily lunged at him, tongue out and drool dribbling down it’s maw. Once safely behind the swing door of the counter, he subtly grabbed his chest and silently swore a string of words that would make any sailor proud.

“Wh-what is the emergency?” He tried for calm and collected. Several customers tittered at the effort but Erza was oblivious. She scooped up the dirty mutt, waving the monster around while it tried to slurp at her face.

“I found a puppy!”

“Hardly an emergency.”

She ignored his sarcasm, playing with the beast’s paws, “I need to take him to the vet. I bet his owner is so sad and missing him! Can you watch the front?”

If it would make the creature go away faster, he’d do the Hula. Of course, what came out of his mouth was an affirmative. The problem was, he’d never run the front. He didn’t know how to run cards or make the change drawer open on the register. And the espresso machine was a mystery. He might be the genius in the back, but Erza was the one that kept the front running smoothly.

It took some fumbling and a lot of trial and error but eventually he got the basics.

“Oh, you’re up front today. Where’s your girlfriend?”

Lyon glanced up at the next customer and was about to inform her that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Instead, his jaw clicked shut, and his brain reminded him to shut up. The woman was giving a wide smile, her manicured nails clicking lightly against the glass display, and there was a twinkle in her bright blue eyes. He studiously kept his gaze on her face because one glance told him her body was as gorgeous as her face, and while she might want the looks, he was a professional and a gentleman. Also, if she wasn’t a model, she should be.

She leaned forward to peer past him then looked a little disappointed as she straightened up.

“Darn, I was hoping to catch you two together! I love watching your baking lessons on Youtube! They’re so helpful and fun, and you two are a darling couple. Can I get two cranberry-orange muffins and a coffee?”

Gray.was.DEAD.

At no point did Erza ever give her permission to go up on the Youtube channel. Lyon forgot about Gray’s little project. Once a week the two would screw around, throw out a tutorial and then Lyon forgot about it. It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would watch it, let alone be fans. Now he was thinking he should’ve been keeping a better eye on things.

Plastering on his best smile, he leaned forward a bit and turned up the charisma, “Not as darling as you. We are happy to have such a lovely fan patronizing our bakery.”

“Such a flirt,” she laughed playfully, giving his cheek a friendly, chiding pat. “Don’t let your girlfriend catch you!”

“Oh, I do not have to worry about that,” he smiled back wondering how he could get her number without being cliche. It might be just what he needed to get his mind off Erza and get back in the dating ring. He almost put his number on the cup but at the last minute handed it over blank.

She took her bag and coffee, “You’re cute but the good ones are always taken. Thanks for humoring me though. My name is Jenny, and next time I expect to see the two of you together!”

“Do you know her?”

He jumped, whirling to face Erza. She was still holding the beast, but at the moment, he would take the dog. Her expression wasn’t as innocent as her question. 

“A Youtube fan.” 

He didn’t know why he was so guilty. Nothing had happened, and Jenny was a sweet fan.

“Oh, next time you should offer your autograph,” Erza remarked, brushing past him towards the back. He almost set the record straight, but something about the way she was holding herself convinced him to hold his piece.

After all, it wasn’t like they were actually dating. 

[quickeningheart]

Nine

     Alley muttered to herself and punched the button on the elevator, waiting for the lift to carry her up to another floor. This was the fifth ride she’d taken so far in search of the elusive Main Office, and her nerves were about shot. And it was totallyStoker’s fault. He’d had her so turned around that she’d taken off without remembering to grab the GPS out of Priscilla’s glove-box, thus leaving her to find her way to the Chicago Institute of Art and Design without so much as a road map to guide her.

    After two hours of battling downtown mid-afternoon traffic, getting turned around twice (once going the wrong way up a one-way street), stopping at three different convenience stores to ask for directions, she’d finally made it to the main campus located three miles outside of the actual city. Only to be faced with another conundrum: the campus really was huge. The four buildings on the campus were huge. And only one of them contained the offices where she was supposed to fill out the final papers to turn in for the start of her school year.

    On a whim, she’d picked the biggest building that was located the furthest from the gated entrance, which had thankfully been the right choice (according to the random student she’d asked in passing). But now that she was in the place she was supposed to be, she found herself confused and lost all over again. The large floor layout maps hanging on the walls by the elevators and escalators were proving less than useful. Big red dots with the words “You are here” graced every one, but the maps themselves were all wrong, and didn’t seem to match the actual floor plans at all. So no matter where Alley supposedly was, she couldn’t help feeling like she was supposed to be somewhere else altogether!

    The elevator dinged, the door slid open, and she stomped out of the lift and turned right … only to run headlong into a wall of books and poster tubes, hard enough to knock herself flat on her ass. There was a startled yelp from behind the book-wall as it promptly came tumbling down, scattering tomes and tubes all around her. And the tall, skinny man who’d been holding them blinked owlishly at her from the wire-framed glasses that had been knocked askew on his nose.

    “I am so sorry!” Alley cried, scrambling to her knees to help pick up the scattered books. Her entire body was flaming with mortification. “I wasn’t looking and I knocked into you and I am just so sorry,” she babbled.

    “No worries,” the man grunted, getting to his feet. “I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going, either. What with the books blocking my view and all.” He offered a crooked grin, soft gray eyes smiling down at her through an unkempt mop of sandy brown curls. “You okay?” He offered a hand to help her up, which she gratefully accepted. “No broken bones or anything?”

    “Nah, I’m fine. How about you?” she replied. “I hit you pretty hard.”

    “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s used to being knocked on his ass by girls.”

     The man heaved a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes as a woman dressed all in purple and black joined them. She smirked at him and kicked a poster tube out of her way with a well-worn engineer boot. “This your new method for picking up women? Play the injured puppy and get them cooing and drooling all over you in sympathy?” she teased.

    “Don’t you have some kittens to eat or something?’

    “I upgraded my diet to pig hearts this week. More protein.”

    Alley watched the two of them banter, fascinated. They were as different as two people could be. If she had to put a title, he was classic preppy nerd while the girl was clearly the punk-goth type. In normal society, these two would hardly take time to look at each other, much less interact like … well, a lot like her and Charley did, actually.

    “Are you two related by chance?” she blurted, and felt herself blushing all over again when the pair stopped talking and turned to face her. Goth Chic had gray eyes, too, she noted, heavily made up with dark shadow and liner. And she suspected that under the cherry-red hair dye, the girl’s natural hair color was also brown.

    “You’re good,” Goth Chic commented. “Most people don’t figure it out on the first try. You must have an annoying brother, too.”

    “I’m an only child, actually. But my cousin and I get along pretty much the same way,” Alley explained. “So, you’re siblings?”

    “Yeah, we’re twins. Can’t you tell?” Goth Chic’s voice was so bland, Alley couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

    Preppy rolled his eyes and smacked his sister across the head. “What the birth defect means to say is her name is Constance Archer. And I’m Christopher.”

    “Call me Chex,” the girl put in. “If you call me Constance or Connie, I'll be forced to kill you. You can call him the Mutant Hobbit.” Another smack over the head from said Hobbit. “Okay, fine, call him Chris.”

    Alley laughed. “Alley Davidson,” she said. “Freshly relocated from Florida. And you’re from?”

    “Oh, we’re born-and-bred Illinoisans,” Christopher replied with a grin. “Chi-town residents for the past ten years. A little town called Penbrooke before that.”

    “They call it a town, but it’s more like a speck of dirt on a map. You know, the kind you try and scratch off with your fingernail.” Chex demonstrated by scratching the air with a black-painted nail. "Oh, speaking of maps, I probably should tell you, the maps on the walls? They’ve been switched around.”

    Alley’s brow furrowed. “Switched?”

    “Yeah.” Chris nodded at the map behind them. “That one says Atrium floor, but the Atrium is actually in another building. This is the Hospic floor. Who knows where that map ended up.”

    Alley’s jaw dropped. “No wonder I can't figure out where I am!” she huffed. “What morons went and switched the maps?”

    “Just some prank from the senior students,” Chex said with a shrug. “The frat houses tend to pull crazy shit like this to confuse the hell out of the newbies. Congrats. You can consider yourself officially initiated. Welcome to college. Just like high school, but with a lot more drinking.”

     ~*~*~*~*~

   After picking up the rest of the books, the twins guided Alley to the correct office located on the first floor in the back of the building. They seemed to know their way around the place pretty well, and when Christopher told her why, she was astonished. “Your father is the dean?” she repeated.

    “Yeah, but don’t hold it against us,” Chex deadpanned. “We can’t help who we were born to.”

    “So you know this place pretty well, huh?”

    “We’ve been running around these buildings since we were kids. I always wanted to attend school here,” Chris told her. “My sister is here because her other option was Military boot camp, but the food is better here.”

    “Ah.” Alley grinned. “That would be those pig hearts you mentioned?”

    “And let us not forget the kittens,” Chex added. “So, what’re you majoring in?”

    “Well, because my parents absolutely insisted on me picking something I can make a real career out of, my major is graphic design. But since I’m not sure if that’s what I actually want to do, I’m minoring in creative writing and music composition, and looking into a few possible art courses for next semester.”

    “Sweet. Another writer type. I dig it.” Chex offered a high-five, but hastily reconsidered when she nearly dropped her armload of books. “What’s your preference? Novels? Poetry? Essays?”

    “Well, I don’t really know,” Alley admitted. “I’ve mostly kept journals and stuff, and I’ve written some song lyrics here and there, a few poems. But since I’ve never actually let anyone read any of it, I don’t know if they’re any good or not.”

    “You write music?” Chris asked.

    “Sort of. I didn’t take a lot of music classes in high school, but I do know my basics. I took piano lessons for eight years. I’m in the beginning course for music composition. I think it’d be fun to try writing my own songs.”

    “Do you sing, too?” he asked hopefully.

    “What’s with the twenty questions?” Chex nudged her brother. “Trying to recruit her for your little band?”

    Alley raised her eyebrows. “You’re in a band?”

    She must’ve sounded skeptical, because he drew himself up, looking a little wounded. “It’s nothing spectacular, just a garage band I put together back in high school, but we get decent gigs on weekends and stuff,” he replied. “It’s a lot of fun. Hang out, play good music. Get paid for it, even. Since we graduated, though, some of the members have left. The drummer headed to Oxford and our female lead singer is attending Juilliard. We’ve still got our bass and guitar players, and I sing and play the keyboard.”

    “That’s cool,” Alley said.

    “We’ll probably hold auditions for another keyboard player and singer once classes start. See if we can get some interest. It’d be great to keep the band going, if we can.”

    Chex cupped a hand to her mouth and added in a stage-whisper, “That’s a hint for you to show up and sing.”

    Chris mimicked the move. “She’s just mad ‘cause we won’t let her join. She can’t hold a note to save her life.”

    “Butthead.”

    “Birth defect.”

    “Awww, you guys love each other so much,” Alley teased. “Almost makes me wish I had a brother, too.”

    “Don’t. You’re better off,” Chex said blandly.

    Alley laughed. “So what’re you majoring in, Chex? You like writing, too?”

    “Connie has wanted to be a professional writer since she was old enough to pick up a pencil,” Chris said with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t get her started on the subject or you’ll never get her to shut up again.”

    “Don’t mind him.” Chex pulled a face at her brother. “ His ultimate goal in life is to be our dad’s personal Mini-Me. He fully plans to take over the position of dean when Pops retires.”

    “That’s not set in stone,” Chris muttered, blushing a little. “But it’s sort of a position that’s been passed down in the family since the school was founded. As the oldest son—”

    “As the only son,” she cut in with a snort.

    Chris shot her a brief glare before turning his attention back to Alley. “Our family founded this school,” he explained. "We don’t own it, per se, but it’s always been the Archer sons who have taken the position of dean.”

    “It’s got something to do with the founding father’s will or some sort of legal shit like that,” Chex put in, waving a dismissive hand. “Even though there’s a board of directors and all sorts of officials these days, they can’t kick an Archer son out of the position, unless he willingly steps down.”

    “So, when Dad retires, I’ll be taking over as the dean,” Chris finished.

    “Wow. That’s kind of nice, knowing you’ve got a career path all planned out for you.” Alley pursed her lips, considering. “Unless … you don’t want to be the dean? Then I guess it’d be kind of a pain in the ass.”

    “No, I’m willing to step into the position, but it’ll be after Dad retires, and since he’s only in his forties, that won’t be happening for awhile.”

    “So, what do you plan to do with yourself in the meantime?”

    “I’m majoring in musical composition, the advanced classes. I’d like a career in music. Maybe become a pianist, or even a teacher. It’d be kind of fun to teach classes here, actually.”

    Chex snorted. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, my brother really loves this school.”

    “Oh, like you’re one to talk.”

    Alley grinned as she listened to the twins’ bickering, which only ended when they finally reached their destination. “The offices are right through here," Chris announced, pushing open a set of swinging doors to reveal a posh waiting room.

    “The dean’s office technically closes at five,” Chex said, “but being his kids gives us certain advantages.” She flashed a cheeky smile at the secretary and sauntered down the short hallway as if she owned the place, stopping before a closed door. “Hey, Pops, you in?” she called.

    “C'mon in,” came a deep voice from the other side. Chex pushed the door ope and stepped into a large, richly furnished office with Chris and Alley bringing up the rear. “Got those books and posters you wanted,” she grunted, dumping her armload onto the mahogany desk. The dark-haired man on the other side glanced up from his ledger, gray eyes crinkling with a smile.

    “Thanks, kids.” His eyes fell on Alley. “I’m sorry, young lady, the office is closed now.”

    “Um,” Alley began, but Chris hastily stepped in. “She’s with us,” he explained. “She got lost trying to get here because someone went and switched all the floor maps on the walls.”

    “Again?” Mr. Archer rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t we just go through that last year?”

    “Better up the security, Pops.” Chex took her brother's armload of books and unceremoniously dumped them into an empty armchair. “Tricky bastards, those seniors.”

    “Language, Constance,” the dean sighed.

    “Sorry, Sir.” She didn't sound sorry at all.

    “Alley has some more papers she needed to sign. Think she could do that real quick? After all the trouble she had getting here and all…” Chris prodded.

    “Sure, sure. Have Mary pull the file. Alley, was it? You can sit at the table out there and finish what you need. I just ask that you be done by six thirty. That’s when Mary has to leave.”

    “Oh, that’ll be plenty of time. Thank you, Sir,” Alley replied gratefully, placing the poster tubes she was holding on the chair beside the books. She stood awkwardly, wondering if she should bow or curtsy or something, and settled for a polite nod as she turned to follow Chex back to the waiting area.

     ~*~*~*~*~

    Half an hour later, Alley was on the final paper, filling in her new address. She jotted Charley’s house phone down as a temporary number until she could buy a cell phone. She considered who to put as the emergency contact. Her parents were on the other side of the States, so they were out. Charley was the only person she knew in this city, aside from the mice, but she could hardly use their names. She wasn’t sure if they even used phones. Probably best to leave it blank for the moment. She could always fill it later.

    She glanced at the twins, who had for whatever reason decided to stick around; Chris had made himself comfortable in an armchair, absorbed in a well-worn copy of what looked like a science fiction novel.

    Chex lounged on a loveseat with her long black-and-purple-striped legs resting against the back of the couch and her bright red hair brushing the ground. She didn’t seem to care that her short, black-lace tutu skirt had ridden up her waist and now rested in a frothy pile on her stomach. Or that her upside-down face was slowly turning the same shade as her hair as her booted feet danced in the air, keeping time to whatever song was playing on her iPod. She completely ignored the disapproving glances both Mary and her brother kept tossing at her; if anything, they only seemed to encourage her as she drummed the air with her purple-gloved hands, body squirming as she danced on her back. Alley found herself grinning, wondering if she could convince Chex to come shopping with her for a new phone that week. She had a feeling that, despite their very different appearances, the two of them would get along swimmingly.

   A disturbance from the front of the waiting area caught her attention, and she looked toward the front desk, where three men had entered the doors and were casually strolling toward them, ignoring Mary’s frantic attempts to stop them.

    “Aw, shit,” Chex swore softly. “The Purple People Eater’s back.” She quickly flipped herself around and patted down her skirt, snatched a photography magazine off a nearby rack and hastily flipped it open. She didn’t seem to notice it was upside-down. “Keep your head down,” she hissed to Alley. “Don’t look at ‘em, don’t draw attention to yourself, and whatever you do, hold your breath. ”

    “Hold my—bwoaaarph,” Alley gagged as a most awful stench suddenly hit her like a brick to the face. She choked, one hand coming up to pinch her nose shut as she ducked her head, staring through tearing eyes at the forms in front of her. The three men passed them, and she dared to glance up for a better look, then did a triple-take. Purple People Eater was right! He was the largest man she’d ever seen. And he was dressed in the most glaringly purple pinstriped suit her eyeballs had ever had the misfortune to encounter. His greasy black hair was slicked back in some semblance of a coif and he carried a cane in one white-gloved hand. All he needed was a Tommy Gun and he’d be the epitome of the classic 1940s mob boss.

    He noticed her staring, gave her a cold smile that sent a chill shivering up her spine, and sauntered down the short hallway to Mr. Archer’s office. The two henchmen following him, looking more like typical thugs on a street corner than anything, didn’t even glance her way. She watched them go, wondering why in the world she felt like she’d seen him before.

    As soon as the office door opened and shut, Alley released her breath and gasped for air for a moment. “Holy hell,” she hissed. “Did somebody drop that guy into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

    Chex burst out laughing and reached over to slug her brother in the arm. “See? I told you I wasn’t the only person in the world who watches Labyrinth!”

    “Well, we all must have some flaws,” Chris sniffed, shutting his book.

   “Says the guy reading The Man Who Fell to Earth for the umpteenth time.”

    “It’s a classic book!”

    “And Labyrinth is a classic movie!"

    “Guys!” Alley snapped her fingers to get their attention. “Focus. Who was that?”

    “Trouble,” Chris grumbled. “He’s been coming around lately. Dad says he’s been trying to convince him to sell him the school or something. He wants the land around it.”

    “Yeah, he seems to have it in his head that Pops owns the place and has the legal authority to sell out, or can convince the board members to sell out, or something. I dunno, the guy’s a nutball.” Chex circled her temple with a finger.

    “Well … hasn’t anyone called the cops on him or something?”

    “Won’t do any good.” Chris ran his fingers through his tousled curls, mussing them even further. “His thugs are there for show, but he hasn’t actually gotten violent or anything so they can’t toss his fat ass out. Dad wouldn’t, anyway. He prefers to keep the peace and try and talk things out.”

    “Yeah, he’s stupid like that,” Chex muttered, earning a glare from her twin.

    “Besides, we think he sort of owns the police. He lines their pockets and all.” Chris rubbed his fingers together.

    “He’s got some weird-ass cheese name,” Chex added. “Like, it really fits him, though.” She glanced at her brother. “What was it? Muenster? Pepperjack?”

    “Limburger,” Alley said quietly, as it abruptly hit her where she’d seen him before. In Throttle’s memories. “That’s Lawrence Limburger.”

    “Yeah! That’s it!” Chex laughed. “Smelly cheese for a really smelly guy!”

    “How often does he stop by?” Alley asked.

    “I dunno. He started coming around about two months ago. Once or twice a week, I guess. No big deal, really.”

    “No, listen, this is a big deal.” Alley shook her head. “That guy, he’s dangerous. He’s—” She stopped, struggling to think up a way to explain how dangerous. She doubted the truth would get her anywhere but locked up in a nuthouse. “He’s mafia,” she finally blurted. “He’s a boss in the mafia, and he’s buying up property all over the state to strip-mine it. He seems focused primarily on Chicago, though. My cousin, Charley? She’s been harassed by Limburger for years, trying to buy out her garage, or take it by force. She’s managed to resist, but only ‘cause she’s got some good friends helping her out. If it wasn’t for them, she’d be out of business by now. Possibly worse. He has gotten violent with her in the past. If something isn’t done to stop him, he’ll start using force to get what he wants here, too. Trust me on this, okay? I believe my cousin.”

    The twins stared at her, wide-eyed. Even Mary had stopped what she was doing to listen.

    “But, when he first showed up, Pops called the cops on him, and they didn’t do anything,” Chex finally said. “I mean, they said they couldn’t do anything.”

    “Never mind that he was legally trespassing, showing up after-hours without an appointment and even making veiled threats,” Chris added. “That’s why we figured he’s got the police in his pocket. They could’ve done something otherwise.”

    Alley chewed on her lower lip. “I gotta get back,” she decided. “I’ve been gone too long, anyhow. Charley needs her truck back, and I want to talk to the guys about this. Her friends, I mean. They can probably help, and the cops never even need to know.” She gathered the paperwork and slid it back into the folder, taking it to Mary.

    “You two should get yourselves home,” the secretary told the twins. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay and make sure Mr. Archer gets out safely. I’ll call security in to escort him if I have to.” She took the file from Alley and nodded. “Welcome to the Institute, Miss Davidson. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself here.”

    Alley flashed her a weak smile. “Well, can’t say it won’t be interesting, at least.”

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