#cell phone security cameras

[wildehacked]

for the soft fic meme, 12 for buddie?

A little coda to "Invisible"—set decidedly before "Contagion!" 12. ‘you could say I’m fond of you.’ * Buck fucks it up after, like, a month. He knew he was gonna. It’s just that most of the time the only people he talks on the phone to are Maddie and his parents—like any self-respecting millennial, he texts everyone else. And when you say goodbye to your mom or your sister or your adorable tiny niece, you say something like “okay, bye now, love you.” It’s just habit, honestly. If he talked on the phone more often to more people, it wouldn’t happen at all.  He’s talking on the phone a lot now. Eddie started it literally on the drive to El Paso—Buck was still standing on the street, his heart a miserable bruise in his chest, and then his phone chimed and Eddie was FaceTiming him. Buck opened it, all like, hey man, what’d you forget, but Eddie was just grinning at him from behind the wheel, eyes on the road and not the camera. Dude, Eddie said. I know it’s just drizzling, but you’re gonna get soaked if you don’t go inside. So Buck rolled his eyes and wiped the California rain off his face and went inside, and he slowly and inefficiently unpacked a box of silverware while Eddie complained about the price of gas and asked him about Pilot stations vs Loves vs Texacos, and Buck did his best impression of a normal person whose best friend was in the act of leaving him, even though his heart was pulsing in his throat like he’d swallowed one of those Looney Tune ticking time bombs, and surely that wasn’t normal at all. 

Anyway, now they’re always on the phone. Eddie calls first, usually—Buck’s eased up on the restriction a bit, but at first he was determined not to be too clingy, so they waited on Eddie’s schedule, whether Eddie needed him, wanted him, or whatever—but it turns out Eddie needs him all the time. Wants him all the time. Wants to talk to him all the time. Whatever. Buck talks to Eddie while he shops for groceries, while he cooks dinner at the firehouse, while he’s cooling off after a run. 

He gets access to all these aching pieces of Eddie’s life: a glimpse of the backseat of Eddie’s new car, little flash of Eddie’s local Albertsons, peeling wallpaper in Eddie’s new living room that looks nothing like the pictures. And he hears about conversations with Chris (so much better already,) and conversations with Eddie’s mom (bad, not that Buck can say so,) and Uber rides that went well and Uber rides that went bad, and recipes Eddie tried that went wrong, and recipes Eddie tried that went right, and whether there’s mold in the bathroom and whether Eddie needs to hire someone to put in new windows or whether he can do it himself, and—yeah. It’s almost normal, if Buck and Eddie normally lived their lives on FaceTime. 

So Buck’s guard is down, which is why when the bell rings and Eddie’s mid-rant about airport security (loitering in the cell phone lot at the El Paso International Airport waiting for a ride to come in,) he fumbles his coffee cup and says “gotta go, okay, love you, buh-bye.” 

He hangs up before he even hears himself, and then feels his ears heat up all the way down to the rig. That was so embarrassing. Like calling the teacher mom. Like calling Cap dad. Ugh. He’ll have to explain to Eddie that it’s just because of the Maddie-Jee-parents phone thing. Later. 

But later, after the next three calls, when Eddie calls to complain about people coughing in the Uber without masks again, Buck somehow totally forgets to say anything. And then Eddie gets another ride, and he has to go, and Buck fucking. Does it again. “Be safe, love you, bye.” He hears Eddie’s surprised laugh before he fumbles to the hang-up button, and his stomach goes watery and weird. 

It’s not that weird, is the thing! Obviously he loves Eddie, they’re best friends. It’s just one of those dumb things, that he doesn’t usually say it to his friends. Probably a toxic masculinity thing, if Hen’s right about that. He should be telling all his friends he loves them. He just hates the idea that Eddie might, like—get the wrong idea. It’s not stupid to think that. Maddie thought that. Tommy thought that. Buck has to be careful, really careful, or Eddie’s going to get weirded out and stop giving Buck even these little half-real glimpses into his life. 

“I love you,” he tells Hen in the rig on their way to an apartment fire. 

Her eyebrows raise. “Oh-kay. You know something I don’t know?” 

“No,” Buck says with kind of a forced breeziness. “Just telling my friend I love her.” 

“Sure,” she says, still sounding doubtful. “I love you too?” 

“What about me,” Chim asks, kicking Buck’s chair with the side of his boot. He and Hen give each other one of those best friend looks that Buck is used to but can’t decipher.

“Uh, duh,” Buck says, even though he’s tempted to say Eh, depends whether you name my nephew after me, because he’s trying to prove a point, here. “What about Cap?” Chim prompts, and Bobby raises his eyebrows from the front of the rig.

“Obviously I love Cap,” Buck says, like that isn’t the most awkward sentence to ever come out of his mouth. Bobby sort of winces back at him, but he looks touched, too? It’s a very Midwestern kind of look. 

“What about Ravi,” Chim asks, snapping his gum, and Buck’s stomach sinks because, like, he really likes Ravi, he trusts Ravi with his life, he thinks he and Ravi honestly should become better friends, but like, does he love him? Uhh, well—but Ravi immediately shakes his head, not looking up from his phone. “Leave me out of this one,” Ravi says mildly. “Freaks.” “What brought this on?” Hen asks. 

“I keep accidentally telling Eddie I love him,” Buck says. “That’s not weird, right?” 

He gets laughed at for the rest of the shift.

* The thing is, it does actually bother Buck. Like, he’s into dudes now. He doesn’t want Eddie to think Buck’s into him. That’s important—has been since the beginning. Nothing changes between the two of them. Buck is determined not to change anything between them. Because it would be easy, right? Everybody else thinks so. It would make sense for Buck to be this pathetic loser in love with his straight best friend, haunting his house just like he haunted Abby’s house. And he’s not. He loves Eddie in a totally normal way. He loves Eddie in the way that Eddie could love him back. 

So the next time Eddie FaceTimes him, Buck’s determined to make sure Eddie gets it. He doesn’t get his chance right away, though, because before he can open his mouth, Eddie’s putting a finger up to his lips, and Buck’s jaw snaps shut. Eddie flips the camera around, and there’s Eddie’s new living room, and Eddie’s old couch, and there’s Chris, passed out with his Switch in his lap. Buck’s heart clenches like a fist.

Eddie flips the camera back around, and walks quietly out of the living room—he’s not looking at the camera, but Buck gets a glimpse of the small, private smile on his face anyway. See, it’s shit like that—how is Buck supposed to risk that? Eddie slips out the front door, and then settles down on the stoop, the late afternoon Texas sun turning his hair gold around the edges. 

“You got him back,” Buck guesses, and Eddie smiles at him, huge and happy like Buck hasn’t seen in months. “I got him back,” Eddie confirms, and Buck whoops and punches the air, which means he also accidentally drops the phone. 

“Tell me,” Buck demands, when Eddie stops laughing—not at him, but with him, giddy with his own success. “Tell me everything!”

“You were right,” Eddie says. “I just needed to show up.” Then he tells Buck the rest of the story—how he drove out to Lubbock, how Chris threw up and Eddie stepped up, how Chris hates chess, how it was easy, in the end, to draw a line in the sand with his mom. Buck is so, so happy for him, for them, for his Diaz boys, which makes it so weird that his chest just hurts the whole time Eddie’s telling him the story. 

“I knew it,” Buck says when Eddie wraps it up. “I knew he missed you.” 

Eddie’s still smiling with all his teeth, looking almost embarrassed about it. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, he did.” 

“I love that,” Buck says, or—well, okay. That’s what he means to say. What he actually says is “I love you,” a stupid slip of the tongue followed immediately by a weird hot lurch in his chest. “Wait! No.” “No?” Eddie asks. He’s laughing, thank god. “No,” Buck says firmly. “That’s too bad,” Eddie says. “I’m kinda fond of you.” “I,” Buck says, choking a little on his desire to correct the record. “Eddie! Obviously I—I mean, like—you know what I mean!” “You don’t love me,” Eddie agrees, and dramatically claps the hand not holding the phone to his chest, like he’s been shot through the heart.

“I love Hen,” Buck says, and he knows that’s a miss as soon as it comes out of his mouth. 

“Oh sure,” Eddie says, and he’s actually giggling, the phone shaking in his hand. “Me too.” 

“Eddiiiie,” Buck says again, stretching out the word in a little bit of a whine. Okay, whatever, time to give explaining his best shot. “You know, I like—most of the time I’m talking to Maddie or Jee on the phone, when I talk on the phone? And it’s, like, it’s habit.”

Eddie’s looking at him like he’s crazy, but also like he’s a cute animal video. “Have you seriously been stressing about this? Over a couple of I love yous?” 

Buck’s throat is dry. He swallows and it clicks. “I—I don’t want to make it weird, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Eddie says, and loses the cute animal video face. “It's not weird.” 

Buck is going to crawl into a hole and die. He’s gonna find a shovel, dig a hole, and crawl into it. “It’s not?” 

“No.” “I, um.” Buck feels weirdly shaky, even though this conversation isn’t a big deal and he knows he should be celebrating Eddie and Christopher right now instead of getting all adrenalized over nothing. “I thought it might be.”  “You’re crazy,” Eddie says warmly. “Tell me more about how you love Hen.” “Shut up,” Buck says. “I told everyone I loved them.” 

“Wow,” Eddie says. “Even Ravi?” 

“I could love Ravi,” Buck says defensively, because he actually probably could! He and Ravi have been hanging out more lately! He’s getting into frisbee golf! “Ravi’s great,” Eddie agrees. “When’s his birthday?” “I don’t know, I’ll have to check your Facebook,” Buck says, and Eddie laughs, and the camera shakes with the movement. When Eddie readjusts, he brings it back closer to his face, and Buck can see the way his eyes are turning a little gold in the sunlight, too. 

“Okay,” Buck says, “Enough of that. Tell me more about how Chris is doing.” 

Eddie smiles at him. They talk about Chris for a while, then about Eddie’s plans for what he’s gonna make Chris for dinner, then about Buck’s upcoming weekend plans with Maddie and Chim. Eventually the sun starts to go down in El Paso, and Eddie says: “Alright, I should probably let you go.” 

“Okay,” Buck says, even though he doesn’t want to hang up. “Don’t over-salt the pasta water.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I won’t.” Then he gets a sly grin on his face, which is the only warning Buck gets before Eddie says: “Love you, man.”

Buck’s heart somersaults in his chest. “Love you, too,” he gets out, and Eddie’s back to laughing at him as he hangs up. 

Buck stares at his dark phone, then taps it anxiously against his knee. It’s not weird. Eddie said it wasn’t weird. If it’s weird, Eddie’s being just as weird as he is. 

“I love him,” he says aloud, reassuring himself that it’s fine. No one’s around to hear him; it makes Buck shiver anyway. 

[natalicss]

Like We Were In Paris II

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

part one

summary: you and ji-yong have been dating for a couple years, and you’ve kept under the radar this entire time. after the gala de pièces juanes, you two attend the chanel spring-summer 2025 haute contour show. however, the two of you are starting to get tired of keeping your relationship a secret.

warnings: not proofread AT ALL! i’m way too lazy for that, sorry. celeb!reader, implied age gap (reader is mid-twenties), lots of fluff, lil bit of angst, use of y/n, i still don’t know how to use this app i feel like an elderly man using a cell phone.

word count: 4.9K

nat’s notes: hey y’all! i came back for part two AS PROMISED! this was actually very hard for me to write as i kept changing my mind about how i wanted this to go. so im sorry in advance if its not all that great LMAO. i do wanna write a lil more about american pop star reader & jiyong, maybe i’ll do some sort of head canons about them, or some stuff about their relationship early on. i’m not sure. i also tagged the people who asked to be & i will try to keep tagging people in the future (if they wanna be). anywhore, i hope that you guys enjoy this, if you don’t…sorry<3 toodles!

tag list: @infinetlyforgotten @petersasteria

After the successful Gala Des Pièces Jaunes event, you had spent the next couple days in dressing rooms. You had been invited to Chanel’s Spring-Summer 2025 Haute Couture Show. You said yes, of course, having an affinity for fashion, and never turning down the chance to be near your long-term boyfriend. You and Ji-yong had been to a couple of the same fashion shows before. It was always easy to slip by with nobody noticing your connection. Oftentimes, you two were not seated remotely near each other and are far too busy with the peers around you to sneak away. 

But this last week felt particularly more difficult. Unlike in America or South Korea, where you knew the paparazzi and knew very well how to remain under the radar, the Paris press was more complicated. You and Ji-yong had to weave your way around in more secrecy than ever. Every method you could imagine. Some instances, the two of you would sneak through a back door and slide into cars to avoid the cameras. Other instances, the two of you would make separate nonchalant appearances. Ji-yong would leave the hotel first, shy and polite as he waved and greeted the people around him as he’d slip into a car and drive off to his next location. You, wearing designer clothes and sunglasses as you walked out with a big smile and a more confident approach. You’d get in your own car, sliding into the back with your security with a huff. Within moments, you’d open your phone to shoot a text to your lover. 

Y/N

i didnt get to say it before you left, but you look handsome today<3

You knew it’d only be a moment before he responded. 

Ji<3

Thank you, Aein, you look beautiful!

You and Ji-yong hated that you couldn’t spend this Paris trip together more. After all, you two had all of the same events, same meetings, same friends to visit, and yet you couldn’t be by his side at any of it, not in public. Part of you didn’t mind, used to the routine, but part of you was starting to grow tired. It wasn’t like two years ago, when you first started dating. At that time, Ji-yong was still on hiatus, you were working on your fourth album, and everything had to be a secret. Secret vacations, secret visits, secret dinner dates where the two of you wore silly disguises. You were good sports, making a game out of it and playing ridiculous characters to see who cracked first. But that was two years ago. He was back in the spotlight again, you had released your fifth album a few weeks ago, he was releasing his own work. You two were confident in your relationship, everyone was. What was holding you back?

There was no black and white answer. On one hand, now was the perfect time to announce to the world that their rumors of you dating a random Hollywood actor were all false. On the other hand, were you so willing to give up that last piece of privacy you did have? You weren’t worried about the hate on either side, despite knowing how fans often get if they don’t approve of their favorite celebrities' relationship. 

You had been in a public relationship way before Ji-yong. It was years ago, back when you were still new to the world of fame and glamour. Every corner you turned, the cameras flashing, the wave of hate you’d received, the amount of gossip around every song you released being about them or not, their interviews for their movies always being about you. Your careers had been forced to blend due to the way people reacted. The world had taken your last relationship by storm and had seemingly strangled it with their love and adoration. The lack of privacy, individuality, and respect for the two of you had been what led to you and your last partners split. It took the two of you years before the media finally stopped associating everything either of you did together. So, understandably, part of you was worried about that happening again.

You thought about all of this as you and Ji-yong were getting ready for the day. You both had things to attend to, tomorrow being the fashion show. One last fitting, one last meeting with your teams. You were styling your hair as Ji-yong had finished getting dressed, the agreement for him to leave the hotel first still agreed on. He looked at you, and you could see the way his eyes softened as he observed your eyes. He knew everything about you, down to the way your face looked when you were deep in thought, perhaps about to drown yourself with your ability to overthink.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, speaking in Korean first as he approached. You didn’t say anything, busy running your fingers through your hair as he quietly stepped next to you. He met your eyes in the mirror, his lips curling. “There she is.” You blushed at his words, putting your hands down as you finally turned your body to face him. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” He asks, reaching up to adjust your hair framing your face.

You didn’t know where to start. You and Ji-yong had talked about this a million times before. You two had always agreed to keep things the way they are. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change that. As he watched you get lost in your thoughts again, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. Your eyes were glossy, not all there as you already started mapping out every way the conversation could go, preparing yourself for every out come.

“Jagiya, you’re worrying me,” 

You blink. It takes you a second to come back to the present, taking a deep breath as you try to explain the heavy complicated feelings in your heart. “I’ve been thinking, through this whole trip,” You subconsciously reach for his hands, looking for comfort and something to anchor you down. He lets you, his thumb running along your skin in soothing patterns. “I don’t know how much longer I want to keep us a secret.” You blurt, staring at your connected hands rather than his eyes. You were too worried about what you might find. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. Your heart twists in anxiety, but you don’t dare to look up. Ji-yong’s breathing changes, only the slightest bit, but you notice. He stops his thumb from tracing its delicate patterns, instead letting it tap against your skin. You feel guilty. You both had so much to do today, this conversation could have waited til tonight, after the show tomorrow, or at just about any other time. You weren’t sure, but you knew this wasn’t it.

Ji-yong adjusts his posture, pulling one hand away from yours, only to bring it to your face. With the gentlest touch, he lifts your head so you finally see his eyes. They’re not angry, or frustrated, or even remotely annoyed. Instead, they’re as soft and warm as they’d always been, making your heart flutter the slightest bit. To be honest, Ji-yong had thought about this too. He’d admitted before that going public worried him. He was a celebrity, and that immediately brings its own multitudes of hardships. He knew that he’d keep any and all relationships a secret, unless the person he was with said otherwise. You had come into his life, unexpectedly, and changed his entire world in the best ways he could imagine. And here you were, the person he knew was the love of his life, staring back at him with sadness because of that very sentiment. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling it too. He wanted to hold your hand down the streets of Paris, the two of you pointing out different things you loved about it, sharing kisses under streetlights. That night at the Gala, he had wanted to kiss you as soon as he was off the stage. And when you were finished performing? He wanted to part the crowd and sweep you into his arms, like he did at your own tours. But he’d been worried, worried about what people might say to you or about you. He knew how harsh they got. He knew you could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to put you in that position unless you were ready.

His hand, which caresses your face with a certain level of sincerity you only ever felt from him, was soft and moved gently. He smiled, a soft gentle one that made you feel more at ease as you realized he wasn’t mad at you in any way. “It hasn’t been easy, has it?” He asks you, raising a brow. You only shake your head, lips pursed into a line. He studies your features like you’re a work of art (cause you are). “I miss every second I’m not with you. All I can think about is where you might be. If you’re smiling. If you’re anxious. If you’re laughing. If you’re thinking about me, too.” He leans in close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And then you text me, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to be with you, and how mad I am that you’re not next to me.” You nod in understanding. You’d always felt that way about him, to the point it made your heart clench.

“I love you,”

“I love you more.”

You’re blushing wildly as he kisses your lips softly. Your feelings for him being translated into simple intimate touches. You’d never experienced something like Ji-yong before. You never wanted to let that go.

When he pulls away, he’s reaching for your jacket hanging off the back of a chair. You smile at him, memorizing his face like you’d done a million times before. You slide your arms into the jacket, letting your boyfriend adjust your outfit slightly. He focuses on your hair, bringing it out form under it and framing your face. Everytime his fingers brush your skin it leaves faint tingles in their wake.

“Why don’t we talk to everyone when we get home?” He suggests, looking back at you. Your eyes widen. You search his expression. “If you’re positive, then I’m with you.” 

You smiled wide. You couldn’t help it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.” Your arms wrap around his neck, and he laughs softly as you start to kiss all over his face. “I want nothing more than to scream about how I’m dating G-Dragon.” He rolls his eyes playfully, still not used to you using his stage name after all this time. 

The rest of your days went smoothly. Both of you finishing up with your work, having dinner with friends, coming back to the hotel room to spend every possible moment together. Soft laughter as you each told stories from your pasts (many you’ve already told), legs tangled together under the sheets of your bed. Small intimate touches. Fingers tracing shapes on skin. Gentle kisses. Messy hair. If possible, your eyes were certainly heart shaped every moment you looked at him.

It was hard to hide it, even now, as you sit at the Chanel show. Both of you had arrived at different times, wearing extravagant outfits. You could feel his eyes on you as you posed for the cameras. He tried to keep his composure when he knew you were near by as he did interviews. Luckily for both of you, you’ve had years of practice. You held your head high with confidence, switching your energy from your usual softer self to the person you were on stage. America’s pop star. America’s princess. The way you posed yourself elegantly, batting your full lashes and gave your most sultry looks. How was Ji-yong supposed to not look? You were sitting in your seat, looking down at your phone as a text popped up.

Ji<3

You’re the most beautiful one here

You looked across the runway, your heart skipping a beat. He was already looking at you, a knowing shy smile on his face as he kept his phone in his hand. You smiled back at him, looking back at your phone.

Y/N

Says you<3 I love you

You put your phone in your lap, looking around some more. You felt lucky you had been to so many events, most of these people you already knew one way or another. It made small talk with the people next to you flow easily. Every now and again, you’d sneak a glance at your boyfriend, who was always staring at you like you were the show itself. It was hard to hide your blushed face, keep your voice from pitching when you talked to the other celebrities, and nearly impossible not to stare right back at him.

The show itself seemed to pass by with ease. You watched thoughtfully at every piece, making mental notes of things you particularly liked and wanted to mention to your assistant later. You’d lean over to your new friend of the night, whispering about different pieces and sharing your thoughts. You could see Ji-yong completely focused on the show, his eyes studying every model with intrigue. It was clear every piece that came out was being calculated into various looks. If he thought of something that worked, he’d raise his phone and take a quick photo. You smiled every time, excited to hear what he was thinking of later.

As the show came to an end, you were talking with your team as you felt someone graze past you. You looked up to see your familiar boyfriend, smiling at you fondly. You knew there were cameras everywhere, one minor slip leading to a whirlwind of chaos and news articles. The anxiety in your chest felt tight, but you kept your cool, straightening your posture and giving him a smile.

Ji-yong looked around, as if silently piecing together something. You followed his gaze, trying to see exactly what he was looking at. To you, there was nothing particularly interesting one way or another. Some fellow stars were talking, being interviewed, or just admiring the scene. Photographers were taking photos of guests, journalists asking people various questions. To you, it looked like every other fashion show even you’d been to. To Ji-yong, it looked like an opportunity. 

There were no words shared. His hand clasped around yours, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his. You blinked in surprise, looking ahead as Ji-yong started pulling you through the sea of people. You were wide-eyed as you looked around. Your teams hadn’t noticed you disappearing, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. But Ji-yong moved with purpose, walking through like this wasn’t strange or something other people should take a second glance at. You tried to mimic his confidence, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to simmer down.

In a quiet corner away from the cameras and the wandering eyes, Ji-yong finally came to a stop. You looked at him with a surprised expression. Your lipstick-painted lips parted slightly as you watched him look at you. He adjusted the tie around his neck, something he’d been doing the entire day. You looked behind you, worried who was watching, but a hand wrapping around your waist caught your attention.

His lips pressed against yours. Soft, passionate, and urgent. You squeaked in surprised against him, your hands landing on his chest as he pulled you further into the corner. Hidden away from your peers, from your teams, and from the layers of paparazzi. Your hands clutched tighter onto his jacket. His hands, which traced your body slowly, slowly lifted to grab your face with the most gentle touch. As he pulled away, you could only blink at him with big doe eyes.

“I couldn’t stand there and act like you weren’t the most beautiful thing here.” He whispers. 

The words caused your heart to do flips against your ribcage. His touch seemingly brought you back to earth, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. “Says you, Monsieur G-Dragon,” You tease as you run your hands over the jacket again. This time, he’s the one trying to hide the way his cheeks blush. You looked at the bow tie with the flower on it, tilting your head as you reached up, slowly maneuvering the flower off. He looks down, blinking at it as you hold the flower in your hand, “Is that better?”

He reaches up, adjusting the tie again, and smiling softly. “Yes. Thank you.” He says finally. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual” You sigh dramatically, shrugging your shoulders. Ji-yong chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Got whisked away by a hot guy, can’t complain.”

Ji-yong raises a brow in amusement. “Is that what happened?” He asks. You look around. “What else would you call this?”

He steps closer, looking up in thought as he lets his arms wrap around your waist. His lips in a line as he tilts his head slightly. He narrows his eyes at you playfully. He didn’t have an answer. He rather liked the idea of whisking you away from the public eye. He did it often, though usually it was more hidden than this. You leaned into his touch, a natural instinct. The rest of the world seemed to drift away, even in moments like this. Only you and Ji-yong existed. Life was better with him. He knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how to make you laugh, how to calm your nerves, how to soothe your cries. He knew your favorite snacks, your order at your favorite coffee shop, and your favorite movies. The same could be said for you. You knew how to quiet his overwhelming thoughts, how to make him smile in stressful moments. You knew his favorite songs to play in the car. His favorite jewelry pieces to wear. You had his tells of when he was anxious or upset burned into your brain. And when one of you were around the other, everybody else melted into the background. Your love trumping anything else.

“We should probably get back out there,” You whisper. He hums in agreement, but neither of you make any move to leave. You lean closer into him, your head resting on his chest as his chin rested on top of your head. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the two of you were together again; a few hours at most. Lately, those hours felt like decades.

Ji-yong gave you another squeeze. “You go out first, jagiya,” He whispers. You pull away from his embrace, staring up at him. The way your glossy eyes sparkled up at him. It was like he could see every ounce of love for him you had, pouring out of you. He framed your face in his hands, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his touch, looking back at him again as you walked away. He only smiled softly. Your heart yearned to stay in that corner with him forever, until your managers found you and ripped the two of you apart. You chewed the inside of your cheek, turning away from him completely as you looked for any sign of your team.

In the dark of your hotel room, you and Ji-yong were a tangled mess of bedsheets and limbs. The rest of the event blew by, you making some lame excuse to your team that you had gone to the bathroom, and Ji-yong telling his team that he was looking at some of the pieces again. You ended up having a romantic dinner together, talking about the event and the people you ran into. A quiet night with glasses of champagne and flirtatious glances.

But now, as the two of you were sleeping peacefully in your quiet room, your phones began to buzz. A violent series of notifications flooding both of your phones. You begin to stir first, rolling over slowly, pulling Ji-yongs arms off of you as you reached for your cellphone. A series of calls, texts, emails, all from your manager, publicist, assistant, even friends of yours. You blinked a few times, your eyes squinting at the bright screen as you opened up a text from your closest friend. A news article.

Unexpected Couple! Musician Y/N L/N Seen With K-Pop Idol G-Dragon at Chanel Fashion Show

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach. No, no, no. You had been so careful for so long. You scroll, your breath escaping you as you look at a photo of you and Ji-yong. His hands on your face, his lips on yours. Another photo of you looking up at him like he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen (he was, to be fair). For a moment, you just stared blankly. Your thoughts struggle to catch up as your body seems to react for you. Nausea came over you. The room suddenly felt too small. The words on the screen burned into your eyes.

You looked at the top of your phone, seeing another phone call from your manager coming in. You ignore it, reaching over to your boyfriend and shaking him. “Ji?” You whisper. When he doesn’t immediately respond, your eyes begin to water. The anxiety, the fear, the stress catching up to you. It crawls up your spine like some sort of ugly clawed fingers reaching for your throat. You shake him again, a little more harsh as you croak. “Ji-yong.”

His eyes shot open. He flinches awake, looking around the room in a momentary panic before looking at you. First, he relaxes, realizing it’s just you. Then, his tired eyes take in yours. The tears threatening to spill over, your shaking frame, your heavy breathing. He sits up now, looking you over in concern. “Aein…? What’s wrong?” As he wakes up, he hears his phone. He turns to look at it, but the whimper from your lips stops him. Slowly, you hand your phone over. Ji-yong looks at you in confusion, but takes it and looks down.

Oh. 

Oh.

What was once a comforting silence now felt cold. The incessant vibrations of his phone on the nightstand made your ears ring. You crawled out of bed, wearing one of Ji-yong’s shirts as pajamas. You paced the carpeted floor, running your hands through your hair. Ji-yong remained silent. He read the article. Then he reread it. Then he read it again. He looked at the photos over and over. The title. The numerous texts you were getting. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react. He sat in the bed, dumbstruck. 

On one hand, part of him wanted to be relieved. The secret was out, and there was no reason to hide his love for you anymore. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be on your terms. Organized by your teams. Some staged paparazzi sighting, or maybe a hard launch on your social medias. He wasn’t sure. The two of you never discussed it that far. Now there was no choice. All because he’d dragged you into his embrace in secret. A selfish moment, now on the cover of multiple articles.

Slowly, he put your phone down, putting it on silent before reaching for his own. He winced at the number of texts he was getting, reaching triple digits. He even saw texts from Taeyang and Daesung, two of the few people who knew about your relationship. But he didn’t answer anyone, turning his own phone off so he could set his attention on your pacing figure. “Jagiya,” He pulls himself out of bed, approaching you with soft eyes. You keep pacing, shaking your head as you try to sort your racing thoughts. “Jagiya, look at me,” He reaches for your hands, pulling you to face him completely. His heart ached as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your eyes wide with fear and worry. You wanted to go public. But not like this. You’d done so well at keeping your life private, and now it felt like it had been stripped away from you before you could even do it yourself. “I’m so sorry,” 

His words caught you off guard. There’s a heartbeat of silence as you look at him. Your brows crinkle together as you look at him. His sad, anxious expression as he guiltily looks away. “What?” You whisper, a moment of clarity through your emotional storm.

Ji-yong swallows, looking around the room as he holds your hands tightly. Your touch being the only thing grounding him to this moment. “If we hadn’t, if I hadn’t pulled you away, they wouldn’t have seen anything.” He explains. Your eyes dance over his face as you let what he’s saying register. You shake your head. “Ji,” You coo, reaching forward to push his mint hair out of his face. He looks at you, eyes sad and guilty. “It’s not your fault. We knew that there was a risk. Since day one.” You remind him. You were right. Since you started dating two years ago, there was always the possibility the media would find out about the two of you. Both of you are major stars, with public lives (to some degree). “I just, I can’t believe it got leaked at a Chanel show.”

Ji-yong is quiet for a moment, looking over at you. “The photos are cute.” He says. You look at him in surprise. You think about the photos, how oddly scenic they were, how the photographer had captured a genuinely sweet and beautiful moment. You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping at your tears. Ji-yong cracks a smile, though the worry in his eyes still evident. Not worried for himself, no, but worry for you.

“Our managers are going to kill us.” You say, your voice weak from crying and still being tired. Ji-yong nods his head. “What are we going to do?”

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “What do you want to do?” He asks you. Naturally, the two of you drift towards each other. Your arms wrap around each others frames, Your face tucked into his neck as you close your eyes. His grip on you tight, still gentle, and protective. His fingers rake through your hair as he waits. No rush for you to answer. No rush to figure out the rest of the world. He lets you simmer in his touch, your mind still racing. 

You clutch onto him, not moving away from him as you start to talk. “I want you. That’s it. I want to be able to be with you. I’m not ashamed of being with you, Ji. I’m proud. So proud of you, being with you. I love you.” You feel his arms tighten around you. Slowly, you lift your head and look into his eyes. Now, they were glassy. 

Ji-yong blinks away the pending tears as he sniffles. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N,” He whispers, reaching up to push your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch. “I will never be afraid to say that.” 

You lean closer, kissing him softly. Your heart still pounding against your chest, your mind still a storm of fear and worry for what wrath you’d face from the media, but it didn’t matter. Not in the long run. You had Ji-yong. You loved Ji-yong more than you could ever explain to him or anyone else. And you knew that the two of you would figure it out together. You’d figure out everything together.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, looking at your phones on the bed. This was it. No more secret rendezvous. No more sneaking around. No more lying in interviews about your relationship status. Everybody knows now. There was no hiding from it now.

You smile at him, your eyes sparkling in the way he loved. You nod your head. “I’m ready,” You assure him.

And by the time the two of you would be leaving Paris, on your way back to Seoul, the entire world knew the secret you’d been keeping to yourselves. And in the early morning as you rushed out of your hotel with your security guards, you two didn’t hide from the paparazzi. Ji-yong walked with you, hand-in-hand, as you walked towards your car. The shouts of fans and cameras catch your attention. You smile and wave, blushing wildly as you realize this was real. 

Ji-yong stands up straighter, his hand tightening in yours as he pulls you close. His hand releases yours, only to wrap around your waist tightly as he leads you forward. Ji-yong opens the door for you, despite the security guard reaching for it. Fans scream in awe, and you lean over quickly to press a kiss on his cheek. A weight you didn’t know was there, suddenly lifted. You beamed as Ji-yong slid into the seat next to you. His expression matched yours. Filled with love, excitement, a certain fondness and admiration. “Au revoir, Paris,” Ji-yong muttered as the car started to move. You giggled, leaning into him as you looked around the streets.

“Taeyang and Daesung will never let us hear the end of this.” You muttered, playing with Ji-yong's fingers absentmindedly. A gentle groan comes from Ji-yong, causing you to laugh again. An infinite amount of teasing and playful jokes awaited the two of you back home. Along with a million questions from friends, coworkers, the media, and who knows who else. But you were okay with that. It hadn’t been completely on your terms, but it was yours. Ji-yong was yours.

And if nothing else, it made your stories about Paris far more entertaining.

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[ikeuverse]

anything for you | sjy

pairing: mafiaboss!jake x fem!reader  genres: lots of angst, smut, fluff wc: 12.5k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : lots of swearing, blood, drugs, guns and knives, kidnapping, injuries, death, torture. jake is ruthless, but he does it to protect his beloved, you know. unprotected sex, sex in the shower, very vanilla. jake is soft because he wants reconciliation. lmk if i forgot anything!

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : when jake said he would do anything to find you, he wasn't kidding. he would go from heaven to hell. but what he feared most was that now, more than ever, he needed to tell you the whole truth.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : did i hear an amen? part 2 of dual life is right here. idk if i liked it as much as the first one, but i tried to put together some of the things that people asked me to make happen, so… i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 part 1 | masterlist ꒱

The only noise in the room was the footsteps of the men coming in and out, bringing back information and receiving orders to continue their work.

“So?” Jongseong asked as soon as Sunghoon entered, almost bumping into one of the henchmen who had just left. He heard a brief apology from the man before seeing him continue walking out of the room, leaving him to approach the huge table where the rest of his friends were.

“I managed to convince him to take that stupid sleeping pill” Sunghoon pulled up a chair but didn't sit down. He looked at Jongseong cautiously, then ran his eyes over every man there. Heeseung kept his worried eyes on his new friend, giving a little murmur of understanding. Then he noticed Sunoo's presence, the infamous computer right in front of him as he typed a few things. His gaze left the screen for a few seconds to greet him before returning to what he was doing.

“We can't let him leave that room before we've gathered the amount of information we need to go after whoever it is,” Heeseung said, and Sunghoon continued to stare at his other friends. Riki was on the edge of the table with a look of pure anger and he didn't know if it was because of the recently failed mission or because he was worried about Jaeyun. Few times had the friends seen the chief like this, one of them being at the death of Mr. Sim, when all the men had mourned for countless weeks. Now seeing him like that felt like it.

“I think we're almost there, guys.” Sunoo kept his voice upbeat to stay positive. He knew how difficult it was to be cheerful in that job, but he tried to keep it as brief as possible.

Hearing footsteps behind him and a movement around him, he knew that all his friends in the room were now perched behind him and his trusty computer, looking at the screen and seeing what had been discovered.

“What have you discovered?” asked Riki.

Curious eyes stared at a series of codes that Sunoo had decoded, tracking down security cameras until he found what he needed. The camera from the parking lot of the building where Jaeyun and you worked. It fit like a glove, the clear image and the exact time when the small van entered the parking lot, giving easy access to the license plate and the moment when a man dressed in dark clothes cornered you and covered your mouth with a cloth. Their stomachs churned strangely, watching the scene unfold before them and, minutes later, Jaeyun kneeling and shouting in the parking lot.

“Did you track the van?” Heeseung looked at Sunoo, not wanting to see the countless seconds his friend was being watched on camera, pacing back and forth with his cell phone in his hand. Everyone remembered the moment Jaeyun called, screaming that you had been kidnapped.

“Voilà” he always liked to boast when he achieved something so difficult in such a short period. But something caught Sunoo's eye as he pulled up the images on the small virtual map of where the van had been found “Shit” he cursed.

“What? What is it, man?” Jongseong snapped, lightly pushing Sunghoon who was closest to the one sitting in front of the computer. He looked at where Sunoo was staring, a little paralyzed, and his stomach churned once again “It can't be.”

“Can you two talk about what's going on? Shit” Riki wanted to shout.

There was silence for a while before Sunoo looked away from the computer and sighed.

“The address is Joseph Sim Fields' shed,” he said, “Joe Fields.”

That name sent a chill down the spine of anyone in that room. In that particular mob. Joseph had been responsible for the shot that had taken the life of Jonathan Sim, his brother and Jaeyun's father. Jake's uncle who he had admired for so long and who was to blame for all the trouble of making him take on something so young.

After the upset and Joseph seeing the fortress his brother had created for Jaeyun to take over, his plan had fallen apart. He wouldn't be his brother's successor, he wouldn't inherit the whole Sim mafia and all the luxury that came with it. So it made him feel disgusted with the family he came from, changing his surname and never wanting to be linked to the Sims again. Fields was even better and gave off a more frightening air, he thought.

“What do we do now?” Heeseung threw himself into the chair next to Sunoo, one of his hands almost pulling out the strands of hair and messing them up in the process. He looked at them one by one, seeing his friends as lost as he was.

“First we need to hold Jake back when we break the news,” Sunghoon said, “or he'll kill his uncle before we even find Y/n.”

Another chill ran down my spine. Now the problem had been doubled. Not only did they have to find where they had gone with you, but they also had to control Jaeyun when he broke the news that his uncle was behind it all.

Facing his friends who were just as apprehensive as he was, Sunghoon felt a lump form in his throat as he tried to swallow the amount of saliva in his mouth. Nervousness took over every fiber of his body as he saw more information being retrieved by Sunoo's tracking codes.

“Then we have to come up with a plan to go to the shed, confront Joseph, and bring Y/n back.”

The slamming of the door broke the silence that would settle between the boys once their thoughts had been aligned. All eyes went straight to the source of the noise, seeing Jaeyun enter with a red face and burning eyes. Anger was personified in him at that moment and his friends were thankful that nothing sharp or a weapon was near him.

“Jake” Sunghoon began.

“So you wanted to dope me up to find out that my uncle is behind this?” he laughed humorlessly, taking a few steps to lean over the table, on the opposite side from where everyone else was standing.

A little further back, Jungwon rushed in, panting. One hand clutching his chest as he struggled to breathe, he almost lost his balance when he got a little closer and put pills on the table.

“I wanted you to rest—” Sunghoon's eyes were on the medication placed on the table by Jungwon. He quickly swerved to Jaeyun's hands knocking the only two glass vases to the floor, the deafening thud of the shards rushing across the room.

“My fucking uncle is trying to kill my girlfriend and you want to give me sleeping pills?” he shouted. Fear was creeping up on him and the others, not because of Jaeyun's angry tone, but because of what he might be capable of. The skin on his forehead was wet and his chest rose and fell with fervor, his breathing completely accelerated as he leaned away from the table for a moment.

“Jake, we—”

“Lucky for all of you, I don't kill my best friends” he interrupted Heeseung with his words, raising one of his hands in the air to stop him from continuing. At this point, adrenaline combined with anger prevented him from shedding any more tears. But the absurd urge to cry persisted in Jaeyun's body. Even more so knowing that you were in the hands of a scumbag like his uncle. The hatred ate away at him even more after what he had done to his father, now his girlfriend was in the hands of the same man who had made his life a living hell.

Jungwon took a few steps closer to the others, glancing at Sunoo's computer and then at Jaeyun still standing in front of them. His breathing rate never slowed, worrying his friends that he might have a seizure or, worse, another fit of rage that could kill them all. No one knew what he might be capable of.

“Jake” Jungwon called out in a slightly calmer voice, earning him a glance. A mixture of anger, pain, and fear. Jaeyun was afraid and everyone in the room could see it in him because they simply knew him. And he hated it all. He hated being vulnerable in the hands of the same man who had taken away the most important person in his life, now being with someone else just as important “We need to line up a plan. I think the boys were already starting to think about it.”

“Were you?” he asked, looking at each of them until he stopped at Sunghoon.

“Did you hear what I said before I came in and nearly broke down that door?”

“Don't make me shoot you, Park. I swear to God…”

“Let's think about the plan, shall we?” it was Jongseong's turn to interrupt, clapping his hands twice to try and make it dissipate any negative energy, although everything there was so heavy that a simple act was proving impossible.

“Think of a fucking plan and get all my men together” Jaeyun bit the inside of his cheek, ready to scream a swear word that was stuck in his throat. But he just chose to swallow dry, Adam's apple dancing in his throat as he felt the rage consume him even more. As if he was completely blinded by his actions and needed Joseph Fields' neck between his fingers to ease it all “We're leaving for that fucking shed tonight.”

Just as quickly as he had entered that room, Jaeyun left, leaving the door ajar and all his friends frightened. And with the mission of agility to come up with a plan in a few hours to get out of there looking for him.

You could feel every part of your body ache at the slightest touch of air against your skin. This could only mean that you were injured, or that the position you were in had been the same for a long time. You really wanted it to be the second option.

Fear and dread still flooded your insides at the vivid memory of hands covering your mouth and then Jaeyun's agonized face through the dark glass of that vehicle they put you in. The person who did this to you could only have wanted something in return, perhaps money. You were so panicked that nothing could be heard apart from your screams calling out your boyfriend's name and his cries of horror as the car got further away. After that moment, everything seemed like a blur to you and you were so nervous that you were sure you had fainted. Now, the sound of footsteps around you made you panic again. It could mean that you weren't alone, wherever you were.

Would it be bad to open your eyes now? Or you could keep pretending to be unconscious to see if you could get anything else, but also… What could you do? Painful, helpless, not knowing where you were. Nothing could help you at that moment.

So the uncertainty made you open your eyes slowly, the light from the room burning your orbs as you blinked slowly to try to get used to the brightness.

“Come on, boss… Our girl's awake” the voice was unfamiliar, you'd never heard it before. So you had no way of identifying who it was, just hoping that he might say something else to you. But that didn't happen. Instead of the boy saying anything else, another man took the lead and started walking towards you, coming out of the darkness of the corner of the room with a serious, frowning countenance. A chill ran down his spine.

“You've been asleep for so long, darling” his voice was deeper than the first, and this sent another chill through her body. Perhaps the wind in the room was now giving you chills in addition to the physical pain. When he approached you, bending down to bring his face close to yours, you tried to move. Maybe run out of there… But it was obvious that your body was tied up. Who would kidnap someone and leave them loose? “Tsk, in a hurry, princess? We haven't even introduced ourselves.”

Every affectionate nickname made you want to vomit all over that man. You wanted to feel angry at the calmness and serenity in his eyes, but at the same time, fear was eating away at you because you'd never seen him before.

“You're Y/n, right?” he knew you, hell. Of course, he did!

No answer, no nod to confirm that it was… He didn't need one either. Although wanted that conversation to be between the two of you, it sounded like a monologue since you weren't saying anything at all.

“Great,” he said “I'm Joseph Sim Fields, but you can call me Joe.”

Joseph Sim… Was he related to Jaeyun?

Your eyes widened and that was the reaction he had wanted ever since he started talking to you. A devilish smile crept across the lips of the man in front of your.

“It's familiar to you, isn't it?” he asked softly “But I don't like joining the Sim, so you don't have to worry” he nodded to the boy who had been quiet until now. You felt nauseous just looking at the amusement of the two men in front of you, it seemed like the most normal thing in the world to have someone tied to a chair while they acted grotesquely.

“Boss!” someone banged on the steel door, making a small bang as you cringed a little more. Any lousy sound startled you.

“What is it? I hope it's important!” Joseph turned to the other man who was entering the room, you didn't even bother to face him, you didn't have the strength to keep recording faces all the time.

“I think they've found us” he said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. Your ears perked up and, even though you weren't looking at the men who were talking, all your attention was on them.

“What do you mean?”

“Jake's call” he replied “Someone must have blown a hole in the operation and they found out.”

The young man had a cell phone in his hand, probably on mute as he passed the information on to Joseph. You looked up at the older man, who took the device in his free hand and brought it to his lips to silence you.

“Dear nephew! To what do I owe the honor of your call?” falsely the welcome he had never given his nephew. Clicking on the speakerphone and approaching you in cautious steps, surely he wanted you to listen too.

“What have you done to my girlfriend, you piece of shit?” he shouted across the line. That voice was familiar, you knew it. It was Jaeyun's, for sure.

“Oh, is that any way to talk to your uncle, Jake?” pouting, Joseph approached you and leaned towards you “Why do you think I'm with your girlfriend?”

Something crossed your mind, you didn't want to risk disobeying whoever had kidnapped you. But at the same time, adrenaline and determination coursed through your veins as you heard the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Jaeyun!” you shouted on impulse, and as quickly as it came, Joseph's free hand struck your cheek with a single blow.

“Bitch! I told you to be quiet!”

“Don't touch her!” Jaeyun said at the same time as his uncle shouted at you.

“Good, you've ruined everything” he said, your face beginning to take on a reddish tinge. Your lip had a small bleeding cut and your hair covered most of your face. He smiled with satisfaction at what he had done, knowing that on the other end of the phone, Jaeyun was squirming and thinking that you were even more hurt than you looked.

“I swear to God if she's hurt—”

“What are you going to do, Jake?” he laughed “First tell your sweet girlfriend the truth, maybe she'll decide if she wants to remain my prisoner or if she'd rather stay away from her lying boyfriend.”

“Joseph, shut up.”

That man's laughter sent your nerves into a negative trance and made you want to vomit. You noticed that he came closer again and, with the same hand that had slapped your cheek, he smoothed it.

“You know, darling… Jaeyun's just a fake” he began, his callused fingers trailing across your cheek until they reached your chin “God, Jake. Her skin is so soft…”

More shouts came from the other end of the phone. This seemed to excite the older man who insisted on touching her face even more. Then he pulled away.

“I want to know. How did you find out about me?”

“You don't have the smartest men, you asshole” Jaeyun took a deep breath, something moving in the background of the call and he assumed it was his nephew's hurried footsteps in the form of nervousness. He knew very well how to push the younger man's buttons. For a long time, Joseph was silent, trying to grasp the information he had received, feeling his blood boil when he heard the rest of the information “Kidnapping someone with a visible license plate isn't the best thing, is it?”

Shit. He should have checked when he asked some of his men to go after you. That was like the number one rule of kidnapping, even more so if they went to a parking lot full of cameras. Joseph glanced at Yunhee, who looked as shocked as he was, trying to find some excuse to get out of it and not show fear.

“What if I did it on purpose so you'd track the wrong place?” he asked, giving a wide smile even though the other couldn't see it. It was Jaeyun's turn to laugh heartily.

“Then you'd have to be smarter than me, dear uncle” he said.

What do he mean? What did Jaeyun mean by that? You watched the conversation quietly, your cheeks burning and a thousand questions running through your mind.

“Smarter than you? I made you think we were after drugs, I put that fucking van with a sign on it for you to track down in the wrong place—” Jaeyun's laughter echoed again, causing the older man to stop his ramblings midway through. He looked at you, his eyes wide as his nephew uttered the next words.

“Our call is lasting more than two minutes” Jaeyun said “Long enough for me to track down where you are, you piece of shit.”

“Jake.”

“Get away from my girlfriend!” he knew that his uncle wasn't bluffing, he also knew that he wasn't smart enough and that that shed was just the beginning. Jaeyun also knew that staying on that call while Sunoo tracked down which part of the shed you were in was just the icing on the cake for him to break into that shit.

And that's what happened next. You heard a bang outside, shouting, gunshots and swearing. It all happened so fast that you didn't realize when the door to the room you were in had been knocked down.

The first thing you saw amid the men rushing into the room and fighting, were Jaeyun's eyes. They were bright red, his pupils dilated and his face completely wrinkled. This only intensified after he ran his gaze over your face, stopping exactly at your bruised lip. Without saying a word, he saw his men getting into a fight with the men who worked for his uncle, dodging their bodily struggles to get to you. Kneeling in front of you and running his eyes all over your body.

“Did he hurt you anywhere else? Did Joseph do anything else to you?” as Jaeyun asked, his hands ran loosely through the ropes that were tied to your arms. It took no effort at all for him to untie the knots and loosen the cuffs so that they could stop hurting your skin.

“No” you replied quietly, your voice lacking intonation as everything hit you at once.

Jaeyun was wearing a completely different outfit from the one you used to see him in. Dark pants, a tank top, a leather jacket. It wasn't the expensive suits and gelled hair. The disheveled curls of his hair were tossed in any way so as not to obscure the view, while his lips were chapped and nibbled. Surely nervousness had taken over and made him do it.

After untying you, he looked up, looked into your eyes. You held his gaze for a while before you felt your vision blur. Your chest was aching, your heart was beating so hard that you didn't even know how you felt.

“Let's get out of here” he grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him. But to his surprise, you refused. You couldn't move from the chair or stand up, but you also didn't know whether to believe him. And when Jaeyun looked curiously at your rejection, he could see the fear and uncertainty in your eyes. “Love, I—”

“Don't call me that, please, Jaeyun” you whimpered, cringing when he approached again, crouching in front of you ”Or Jake? What should I call you now?”

A gunshot would hurt less than seeing the pain in your eyes and the way you were talking to him. Jaeyun knew it was your right to feel this way, and he knew you'd find out somehow. He just hadn't counted on the way it all happened.

“I'll explain everything to you later, we're just going to get out of here. All right?”

“Why so fast?” Joseph's voice alerted Jaeyun's senses and yours. You quickly got up from the chair and he instinctively tucked you behind his back. Protecting you like a shield as you watched your uncle approach. The gun pointed at Jaeyun as he looked at you over his shoulder with that nauseating smile “We haven't even talked as a family yet.”

“We're not a family, Joseph” Jaeyun spat. His hands went behind his back in search of you in case you strayed too far. You didn't know how, but your hands entwined in his and you could feel some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate with the contact, finally.

“Of course we are, I'm your uncle.”

“You ceased to be the day you killed my father” you swallowed back a sob, squeezing Jaeyun's hands with the new confession. Feeling his hands squeeze yours back, as a way of sensing that you were there, despite the confusion.

“But he didn't want to give me the job, that little shit boss” pouting again, the gun Joseph was pointing at Jaeyun was unsheathed. He put it back in his waistband holster, taking a few steps in the direction you and Jaeyun were facing “So he gave it to you.”

“You're crazy!” the younger man almost shouted when he saw that his uncle was close enough, receiving a laugh in response.

“Do you know what your boyfriend does behind your back, princess?”

“I told you not to talk to her like that” letting go of your hands, Jaeyun slipped away like sand between your fingers. He ran up to Joseph and grabbed him by the collar of the shirt the man was wearing. He walked with him to the nearby wall and threw the older man's back against the worn steel. The noise echoed throughout the room and made you cringe and put your hands to your ears in fear.

Joseph groaned at the sudden pain but kept smiling and looking into Jaeyun's eyes.

“Did he tell you that Sim Jaeyun is just a front to keep up appearances?” he looked away from you, noticing that your hands were gradually moving away from your ears “That your boyfriend is Jake Sim, the Sim family's drug kingpin and mafia boss?”

All the noise outside that room seemed to be inside your body now. Gunshots, running, and screams resembled the beating of your heart, the veins pulsing in your temples and your breathing starting to fail.

Jaeyun shouted so loudly that it didn't even bother you, and it was a blur for you to see the two of them grappling right in front of you. The first punch was thrown by Jaeyun, hitting his uncle in the jaw as he loosened his shirt collar and watched him stagger to the side. He took a few steps backward, feeling the older man return the punch and soon the metallic taste between his lips appeared with the force that was thrown back at him.

Joseph was angry, he needed to get it out, as did his nephew. So each time he felt the attack, he tried to go with the same intensity, knowing that the younger man was trying to take away his attention and skill by reaching for the gun in his holster.

“Y/n, get out of here!” Jaeyun shouted, getting his attention after Joseph managed to throw him to the ground in one blow. The older man threw a few kicks, hitting him once in the stomach and he groaned in pain even more. Your eyes were wide, your body was static and you didn't know what to do. You couldn't move as you saw Jaeyun bleeding and beaten right in front of you.

Get out of here now. He repeated each time he punched the man who was trying at all costs to hurt him even more.

“Heeseung!” Jaeyun saw the light at the end of the tunnel when one of his best friends appeared. He was hurt too, with a cut on his eyebrow and his mouth bleeding, but nothing compared to Jaeyun. He rushed over, managing to grab Joseph by the collar and push him away from his friend's body.

“Son of a bitch!” Joseph shouted as his back hit the ground. He groped his hips for the gun, smiling as he saw Jaeyun rise from the ground with Heeseung's help. His nephew's eyes never left his direction, watching as he picked up the gun and even as he cocked it and pointed it in his direction. Jaeyun whispered something to Heeseung, only for the boy to understand as he approached you.

Joseph might have thought it was beautiful, the typical scene where he knew his nephew would die from being shot. But he would protect his beloved from seeing the scene. When Jaeyun walked towards him, his steps slow and dragging, the younger man had his hands behind his back, almost showing his surrender. Would it be his redemption to die to save you? Pathetic, Joe thought. That was typical of the Sim family, not him.

“What are your last words, Jake Sim?” the gun was right in his chest, and Jaeyun felt his blood run cold. He didn't know what he was doing, but he was going to risk it.

He cut himself off from everything else. From your voice screaming and struggling in Heeseung's arms, from the men on the other side cursing and running, from the persistent gunfire outside. He only focused on Joseph's gaze and how that man had taken everything from him. But it wouldn't be like that anymore. Jaeyun wouldn't let history repeat itself, let alone let everything his father had built fall into the hands of someone like Joseph Fields.

He stopped in front of the man he once believed to be his uncle. His eyes were burning with the tears that were about to fall, his heart pounding against his chest and every fiber of his body ached with the uncertainty of what would happen next.

“Go to hell, you fucking scum” Jaeyun said slowly, with the intention of each word piercing Joseph even deeper. He laughed loudly, firing the gun at the same second that Jaeyun ran a few steps towards him.

A shot. A single shot hits Jaeyun and makes him bump into Joseph’s body.

You screamed, feeling Heeseung’s grip even tighter against your body, preventing you from getting closer. Bloodstained your boyfriend’s shirt, but what caught your attention was that Joseph fell first. His body collapsed in front of Jaeyun while a knife pierced his chest and ribs. Joseph quickly dropped the gun that had just been fired to run his hands over the wound in his body. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His hands were shaking, trying to pull out the knife that Jaeyun had stuck in his hand, but with each passing second, he had less strength to do so. He staggered a few times until he leaned against the wall and slowly slid his body to the floor.

As you tried to process what was happening, you saw that your boyfriend's body staggered too. And before you could see him fall to the floor, all the shock and trauma made you faint in Heeseung's arms.

If someone told you that you had been sleeping in that hospital chair for a week, you would probably laugh in response. There was no way that much time had passed, and besides, the sound of the gunshot was still vivid in your mind. The amount of blood you saw, the times you passed out and woke up next to Heeseung and Jungwon. Everything was so confusing, but at the same time, so terrifying.

You wanted to wake up from that nightmare, forget that you had been through everything, and wake up in your bed or Jaeyun's bed. Hearing his sleepy voice and his grumbling about not wanting to go to work so early that day. Why couldn't all that just go back? Why did things have to happen that way?

Looking around, you noticed that you were in the presence of a tall man again. Burly and with a serious face, they greeted every other person who passed by in the hospital hallway.

Security guards. That's what Sunghoon had told you on the first day. Jaeyun wouldn't let you go unsupervised while his friends went in and out of the hospital, trying to catch Joseph's men who had still managed to escape. It was a load of crap to have someone watch you, but considering everything you'd been through, maybe it wasn't that much of an exaggeration.

“Miss Y/n?” the nurse's calm voice snapped you out of your thoughts, adjusting your body in the chair you were sitting in and standing up when she came in. Greeting the security guard, she brought a small tray with some things for you to eat. “I was asked to deliver them to you.”

“I'm not hungry, thank you” you politely declined, trying to smile at her while the woman just shook her head.

“But you need to eat, or Jake will kill us if he finds out about this” another voice interrupted your conversation with the nurse, and you both looked at the door to see Jongseong standing there. In this chaotic little week, you had met his friends, but you didn't want it to be under these circumstances.

You wanted to know how they had met, even if it was through illegal work, but at least it would be a story to tell. Or to know how long they had been friends. Anything normal that didn’t involve finding them all hurt, needing medical attention, and taking turns checking on you while they changed bloody bandages or bandages on your body.

“He—” hasn’t even woken up yet, you wanted to add. And Jongseong knew that would come out of your mouth. But with the same intensity that you thought, he decided to keep quiet. Not wanting to verbalize the fear he was feeling for not having any news about Jaeyun and that he had opened his eyes or made any progress.

Jongseong waved to the nurse who said goodbye to the two of you, leaving you with him and the security guard who was still at the door to make sure everything was okay. He waited for you to sit back down in the chair, silently approaching you, sitting in the chair across from yours.

“I… I don’t know what to say now” he confessed. Your elbows were resting on your bent knees and your posture was as intense as possible – or so he thought – while your eyes rolled over the amount of food that had been brought to you.

“Okay” you whispered, “I think you need to rest, Jongseong.”

“Call me Jay” he said next, his eyes going to you after inspecting all the food that was there, “And at least eat the toast. Jungwon said that all women like that kind, you too, don’t you?”

Your eyes quickly went to the food, letting a laugh escape between your lips. It was simple. A slice of cheese, tomato, and a few other spices. Nothing too grand and anyone would like to eat it. But their intentions were good and that made, for the first time that week, your heart warm a little.

You leaned over and took the toast, biting into a piece and receiving a slow smile from Jongseong in front of you.

“Eat with me then” since he was going to be there, you would feel bad knowing that he wouldn’t have eaten anything. So the boy picked up one of the chocolate muffins on the end of the tray and took a bite. The sound of biting and chewing between you wasn’t uncomfortable or bad, but it filled the room. You realize that your stomach hurts just from having coffee and some cookies in your stomach during the day, and Jongseong almost cries for eating something other than a pretzel that Sunoo had gotten for him the day before.

“Jay” you called his attention after a while. The two of you had just finished eating in silence and were now enjoying a glass of juice each, loathing the coffee that was the only drink they had had since arriving at the hospital. He looked in your direction, his eyebrows raised curiously at you “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” he answered quickly.

You pondered. There were a lot of things to ask, not only to him but to all of Jaeyun's friends. But at that moment, just one was enough.

“Why did Jaeyun hide this from me?” it was a simple question, perhaps, if it hadn't caught him by surprise. You noticed that Jongseong became a little more tense, taking a long sip of the juice as he placed the glass on the table between the two of you.

“It was to protect you” he said simply, wiping his lips and holding your gaze before speaking again. “You were the first person he got involved with, Y/n. I don't think I've ever seen Jake so scared in his life.”

It was silly for you to ask, but it still came out. Scared of what? Almost a whisper that, if it weren't for the two of you being the only ones there, Jongseong wouldn't have heard.

“Scared of what happened that day happening” he looked for a piece of already cut fruit, playing with the shreds of the peeled tangerine as he looked away “Scared of you being in constant danger and, I don’t know, hating him for having this life.”

“I hate it” you laughed softly, knowing how much of a lie that could be. “I don’t know, I’m confused.”

“I understand” Jongseong looked back at you. “I think this is something that’s up to you and him, but know that everything Jake has done so far has been to protect you.”

The door to the room opened slowly, you and Jongseong looking at the newly arrived sound and greeting the nurse again. She seemed a little more energetic than before when she entered the room a while ago. You and he got up from your seats, waiting for her to walk the entire room until she approached.

“Miss Y/n, Mr. Jay,” she bowed slowly, greeting you as if she hadn’t seen the two of you in a while. You and Jongseong greeted her back, exchanging a few glances before looking back at the woman. “The doctor asked to let you know that Jake just woke up.”

Your eyes widened as much as the boy in front of you. You and he took a step forward, but he stepped back and turned to you.

“Go first. I’m sure Jake is asking for you.”

The nurse nodded as if confirming what he was saying. You felt like the toast and juice were almost coming back with the urge to vomit from being so nervous, but you were also anxious to be able to see Jaeyun again.

“Just follow me, miss” she said, giving you a small smile before calling you to follow her. You looked at Jongseong, silently asking if he could come with you. Even though you were safe now, it was hard to trust someone that much. The hallway to the rooms where Jaeyun was, along with the waiting room where you were, was filled with security guards and men who worked for the Sim mafia. Every time you remembered that, a chill ran down your spine. Everyone there knew you and knew who you were, Jaeyun had definitely talked about you. But what shocked you was that you didn't know all of them. At least you knew the names of his best friends and those closest to him over the last week, how could he remember the names of so many people like that?

"Anything, I'm outside, okay?" Jongseong called your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts when you realized that you were already in front of Jaeyun's room door.

Taking one last look at one of his best friends, you nodded slowly, unsure of what you would find behind that door. Of course, it was your Jaeyun. Their Jake. But it would be the first - and hopefully the only - time you would find him in a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath and controlling the sudden urge to cry, your hand grabbed the door handle and turned, your heart in your throat before entering the room.

Your eyes darted to Jaeyun's. It was the first thing you looked at when you entered the room. It was as if you were being hypnotized by him as you walked further into the room, walking slowly – because your legs were already shaking enough – and seeing that he didn't take his eyes off you either.

The first day you met him instantly came to mind. He arrived at the company very well dressed, his navy blue suit stood out so much that you knew you had never seen anything as elegant as that. Jaeyun had a perfect smile, was friendly to everyone and especially to you. He was polite, treated you like someone who held the position, and was respectful from the beginning. It was one of the reasons why you started to feel affection for him. It was a mutual respect between coworkers and it was certainly one of the criteria for accepting to have dinner with him the first few times.

Everything was always so natural between you and him. From the small, furtive glances during meetings, to the funny snorts and grimaces when some annoying would-be supplier started talking. The dinner conversations would go on for hours on end, even the subtle touches of his hand on yours when he offered to walk you home. After the two of you started dating in the last two months, it was as if everything was intensifying even more.

Jaeyun was loving towards you, overprotective and, above all, he gave you the security you needed about anything you were in doubt about. Whether it was between the two of you – because you didn't think you were good enough for him – or at work when someone still tried to put you down. He was always amazing, adding the daily dose of I love you now that he could shout to anyone that you were together.

“Hey” the weak voice took you out of your nostalgic thoughts, making you realize that you were already standing next to his bed. Jaeyun’s lips were chapped, his appearance a little pale and unkempt. But he was still so beautiful. He was still the most beautiful man you had ever met.

“Hey” you said back, your voice choked and the lump in your throat about to burst.

He had known your mannerisms even before you were together, but after he asked you to be his girlfriend, it seemed like Jaeyun knew you even more. It was then that he realized before you could even say anything, that your eyes were shedding cascades of tears.

“Sit here, please?” he asked, stretching his hand out as far as he could until he felt you holding it. Your fingers were trembling against his palm, taking a single step until you sat on the hospital bed, in the space that seemed to be reserved for you. Jaeyun didn’t have the strength, but he knew that your body was vulnerable enough that he made a slow movement and managed to pull you to lean against him.

“I’m going to hurt you…”

“No” he whispered, feeling your hands lean against his chest. Quickly wrapping the arm that had better mobility around your waist, the other one that still hurt from the injuries, Jaeyun decided to place his hand over one of yours that was against him. “It’s hurting me to be away from you.”

“Oh, shut up” the saltiness of your tears could already be felt against your lips, biting the lower one to keep from trembling in front of him. Jaeyun laughed, then grunted when a sharp pain hit his abdomen. “Jaeyun…”

“I’m fine” he was quick to try to reassure you, keeping your body close to his. “I just need you here with me.”

“I'm right here” you whispered. He slid the hand that was on yours, up to your chin and lifted your face to his. Leaning his forehead against yours, Jaeyun felt your panting breath hit his chapped lips. Your scent entered his nostrils and made his entire body relax. It was better than the medicine he had been taking since he entered that hospital.

“Great” he whispered back, slowly pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was so slow, even though you both were dying of longing for each other.

He wanted to take the time to feel your mouth press against his, the touch of your tongue massaging his and the fit of your mouths very slowly. Jaeyun had the memory of the last kiss you two shared, in his office room on the day you were kidnapped. It was the last time he could feel your mouth, your scent, have you close to him. That was why now, in the urgency of contact, he pressed his hand against your skin as he slid his fingers to the back of your neck.

You broke the kiss, not yet having the courage to separate your mouth from his or distance your faces. Feeling his warm breath against your mouth was calming you, in a way.

“I love you” he let out, that stuck in his throat making him even more anxious. Your eyes slowly opened to look at Jaeyun, the redness of his lips and the rosy color of his cheeks captivating you even more. “I love you so much” he said again, pulling your face closer to his and starting a new kiss.

Jaeyun wouldn’t say he was trying harder than he should by kissing you with a little more intensity. He remembered the doctor and nurse’s recommendations that he should make as little effort as possible, but the longing was so great that he couldn’t hold back. He needed to feel more and more of you. But he came back to reality when he felt the salty taste between his lips as he deepened a little more.

He didn’t need to be an expert or open his eyes to know that you were crying. He realized this not only from the salty kiss but when he ran his fingertips over your cheek again, drying the spot on the way to your skin.

“Babe…”

“I’m sorry, I—” you sobbed softly, pulling away and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Jaeyun would always think that seeing you like that would hurt more than the shot he took.

“Don’t apologize, love” he answered you “I’m the one who should apologize now. I’m the one who should explain everything…”

As his voice was soft, trying to calm your nerves, Jaeyun’s fingers still slid slowly over your skin to wipe away every tear trail that had formed there. You nodded in agreement, pulling away enough so that you could look into those eyes that you missed so much. To be able to record even more of the man’s features in front of you because, the last time you two saw each other, it hadn’t been the best memory.

“You need to rest now” your hand ran through Jaeyun’s dark hair, intertwining some between your fingers as you slowly moved it down to his face. “The boys will be here soon to see you.”

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips as he closed his eyes to feel your touch. The touch he knew he was addicted to since the first time he felt it.

“Okay” he knew he needed to rest, being anxious without hearing from you when he woke up had left him exhausted. Slowly shifting in bed, you leaned over to help him get more comfortable and stood up, standing next to him.

“Jaeyun?” calling his name, you heard him mumble something. A silent understanding that he was listening to you and that you could continue. So, without saying much, you leaned over to him, already standing next to the hospital bed to slowly place your lips on his once more. A kiss so quick and soft against his full lips. “I love you. So much.”

It was something he would never tire of hearing from you.

Sunghoon wanted to push that feeling of betrayal away from his chest. Never in his entire life had he felt that way. In the middle of his work, he knew what betrayal, deceit, and everything bad meant. But why was it eating away at him? Maybe because he had promised you, a month and a half ago, that he would take care of Jaeyun and keep him out of danger.

An argument – ​​and a week without talking to you – was the result of the conversation he had with Jaeyun about his entire life outside the office. You wanted to feel angry, end the relationship, and never look at him again. But at the same time, you wanted to see the effort he had put into finding you, putting himself in front of a bullet for you and almost dying because of it. Seeing the concern of his friends throughout the week as they all took care of you and made sure you were eating and feeling well. It wasn't a good thing to keep, but they were all adults enough. There was not much you could do but respect it.

Jaeyun's pleas for you to at least forgive him were endless, and after a long week of him sending you messages and showing up at your office looking like a puppy that fell out of the moving truck, you gave in. That man would do anything for you and that left no room for doubt. Mafioso or business partner, Jaeyun was willing to do anything to have you by his side and protect you from anything.

But you also needed to act on that, so you asked each of the boys to keep him out of harm's way. He could do trivial things, take care of business sitting quietly, without making much effort because, after all, the mafia was still his. You asked Sunghoon to be in charge of taking care of Jaeyun and preventing him from leaving the office or making any slightest effort.

He granted it. Sunghoon did that for the little time he had. A month and a half of banning Jaeyun from going out on small missions, from driving to warehouses with new cargo arriving, or collecting debts on rotten bar stools that they only needed to scare with a gun and a few punches.

But he didn't know that, a month and a half later, they would have Yunhee in the torture room in the basement of the mansion with Jaeyun with fists right on his jaw at every reminder of that day.

“Dude, that's enough" Sunghoon tried to pull him away, but Jaeyun pulled away. His face burning with rage and a few splashes of blood against his cheek. His fist was already covered in Yunhee's blood and he didn't even care about his clothes. Someone would wash them for him later.

“You thought you could hide, didn't you?" he laughed devilishly. With his hand clean of blood, he grabbed Yunhee's hair and pulled his head back, letting the man's frightened gaze penetrate his eyes flooded with rage “What were you thinking?"

“Jake…” Yunhee coughed, moaning and screaming as he pulled the man’s hair harder. The veins on his neck were visible.

Sunghoon, in the corner of the room, watched with some apprehension about his best friend’s actions. It was understandable that Jaeyun would act recklessly after he learned that Yunhee was alive and in hiding. After learning of Joseph’s death in the hospital, a week after he was discharged and went home, everyone began to wonder where Joe Fields’ right-hand man, his confidant, was. Yunhee had never shown up at the hospital, afraid that someone might catch him and kill him just like Jaeyun had ordered them to finish what he had started when he learned where his uncle was hospitalized.

He didn’t want to be next, but one careless mistake and Heeseung found him wandering around the city late at night. He wouldn’t need Jaeyun’s approval to put Yunhee in the car and take him to the mansion that early morning. Heeseung knew he would be applauded by his boss and best friend for this meeting.

“I—” Yunhee grunted as another punch from Jaeyun hit him, finally releasing the boy’s hair and letting his head fall to the side. With the amount of blood mixing with the saliva, he spat next to his body. A small pool of blood was already forming from the number of times he had done this “I didn’t mean to—”

Sim’s laughter interrupted him, echoing throughout the torturous room that was used for this kind of thing. Usually, Sunghoon or Jongseong did that job, but Jaeyun wanted to personally welcome Yunhee’s long-awaited arrival.

“Didn’t you want to touch my girlfriend? Didn’t you want to keep her tied up at my uncle’s request?”

There were countless questions he had to ask, even though he didn’t want to remember that day or know that those hands that were tied were the same ones that touched you. The same ones that held your body to tie you to the chair he found you in. Jaeyun felt a wave of fury rises throughout his body.

“You know… You know I obeyed your uncle, I—”

“You chose to do the wrong thing, man” Jaeyun said, waving to Sunghoon across the room to get something to clean his hand. His decision had already been made, so the job was also coming to an end. “But it’s a shame, you know? I liked you, Yunhee.”

“What— What do you mean, Jake?” he grumbled, his wide eyes bringing a bit of satisfaction to Jaeyun as he grabbed the piece of damp cloth to try – uselessly – to clean his hands.

“My men finished the job for me with Joseph still in the hospital.” Jaeyun walked over to Yunhee again, bowing to him and managing to connect the angry and dark look with the scared and empty look of the boy sitting and tied up. He gave a short smile, just a lift at the corner of his lips as he had the satisfaction of being in control of everything. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My… My turn?” he stuttered, the chill running down his spine as Jaeyun walked away. Taking steps back, but still keeps his eyes on him.

“Sunghoon” he called out. “Since he was so devoted to my uncle, his end will be the same.”

With a few words, Jaeyun walked past his best friend to leave the room. In time to hear Sunghoon cock the gun and Yunhee’s screams echo throughout the place. A shot rang out the same second he closed the door, and then the man’s screams stopped.

The job was done, Jaeyun could feel all the anger slowly dissipating because everything seemed to be getting back on track again.

“Jake” the voice in the hallway caught his attention, his gaze rising to see Jungwon walking towards him. He didn’t show any reaction of surprise because he already knew his friend, everyone knew this would happen. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but be horrified by the amount of blood Jaeyun had stained his body “You couldn’t be here, you have to take care of yourself.”

“I just needed—” he groaned, the pang in his stomach making him bend over slightly. Jungwon held him between his arms, the tip of his tongue itching to say I told you so.

“You could just ask, Sunghoon and Jay would take care of it” as he listened to the little lecture, he leaned on Jungwon to walk to the stairs at the end of the hallway.

He knew his friend was right. He could let his best friends take care of this at all costs, doing whatever he wanted with Yunhee before killing him. With each step he climbed with Jungwon by his side, a little realization hit him knowing that everything had come to an end. He worries about Joseph and Yunhee, no one would be able to hurt him and anyone he considered family anymore.

“Now stop trying, okay? Otherwise, I'll have to tell Y/n about this.” Jaeyun knew Jungwon would do it without thinking twice. So he laughed without much force, still leaning on his friend, when the two entered his office.

Jaeyun froze. The pain in his abdomen seemed to have disappeared the moment he connected eyes with you. There was your smiling figure, but it soon disappeared when your eyes passed over your boyfriend's body. Being supported by Jungwon, with blood everywhere and a slightly pained expression, not want to admit that the shadows of the wounds still haunted him.

I don't think you'll need to tell her, Jaeyun's gaze screamed about it at that moment.

“What…”

“I can explain” Jaeyun began as you stood up, completely forgetting what you were talking about with Sunoo and Jongseong at that moment. They were both probably trying to distract you to give Jaeyun time to do what he had to do, hurt someone for sure, by the way, he had appeared in the room at that moment.

“No” you stood up, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun the whole time, even though you felt everyone looking between you and your boyfriend.

“Honey, listen—”

“Jay, Sunoo” you turned to them, completely ignoring Jaeyun and what he had to say at that moment. “Thanks for the conversation.”

“Thanks for the candies, Y/n” Sunoo tried to smile, holding the large container you had brought.

Only then did Jaeyun realize. Today must have been the weekend because you were wearing casual clothes. Nothing like the usual office clothes he always saw you wearing. You were certainly waiting for him to sort something out with the boys so you could go to your apartment, eat the candies you tried to make the night before, and relax the whole weekend by his side. This would be the perfect day for you, but it certainly wasn't for him.

Avoiding Jaeyun and anything he was saying, you left the room and walked quickly through the hallways. Still a little lost inside that mansion, with the amount of doors and people walking around. But you knew where you had come in and how you should get out.

"Y/n, wait!" Jaeyun shouted, trying to run after you and ignoring the pain in his abdomen. That was nothing compared to the despair he was feeling when he saw you leave.

You wanted to wait, you wanted to listen to him like you did the last time. But the feeling of a lie lingered in your body and feeling betrayed, you knew your eyes were burning for that reason.

You swore that Jaeyun could just be lining up something, talking to his friends without trying. But no. While you thought you could surprise him and his friends by bringing him the candy that took your time and effort the previous Friday night, he was doing who knows what behind your back. The one thing you had asked him not to do.

“Baby, hey. Stop, I want to talk to you” he managed to reach you as soon as you reached the front door. The hand that held the doorknob was quickly removed by Jaeyun’s hands, who pulled you back to him and made your body turn towards him.

Your teary eyes were worse than death. He would rather die than see you like that, even though he knew he deserved it for lying to you.

“Please, I just need to leave.”

“Not like this” Jaeyun said “I won’t let you leave like this, mad at me.”

“You lied—” he leaned in and kissed your lips quickly, shrugging his shoulders and waiting for any reaction from you. A slap, a curse, anything. But he heard a soft sniff as he pulled away, watching you quickly look away from him.

“Look at me.”

“No. You’re covered in blood” your shaky voice made Jaeyun step back a little, slowly letting go of your arm.

“Then I’ll take a shower and you’ll come with me.”

He didn’t give you time to answer, much less for you to deny anything. Slowly pulling you back into the mansion, Jaeyun held your arm with the less dirty hand, heading towards his room in complete silence the whole way.

When you thought about accompanying him to his room, you were certainly supposed to be sitting on his bed waiting to be taken away. To wash all the dirt off your body and any trace of blood, no matter who it was. But Jaeyun's pleas for you to get in the shower with him, at least to wash his back and listen to him ramble on about everything that happened.

Maybe the conversation part was real, he did tell the details of everything. Hearing Yunhee's name while the steam from the hot water embraced you and Jaeyun in the middle of the shower was a mix of feelings. You remembered the man's face devilishly staring at you, laughing and saying things that weren't true. But at the same time, knowing that Jaeyun had avenged everything that happened left something inside you.

"You killed him…" your voice came out in a small whisper, your fingers stopped stroking your boyfriend's wet hair as you let some strands fall over his forehead.

He sighed, one of his hands falling to your waist and resting his fingertips against your skin. Now he could touch you without having your fearful gaze on him.

“I will kill anyone who even thinks of laying a finger on you, Y/n” his voice was serious, but he whispered each word as he leaned toward you. Jaeyun rested his forehead against yours, his breath hitting your skin hotter than the water falling from the shower at that moment “This is my way of protecting you by working with this kind of thing.”

There was no room for argument and you knew it. You also knew that you had every right to leave, not get involved with him anymore, and pretend that none of this had happened. But you knew that you couldn’t, that you didn’t want that. You wanted to be close to him, even though all of these things were new to your understanding.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, please” your pleas made him fall apart. Your tone of voice along with the look you were giving him could make Jaeyun give up on everything for a second, coming back to reality as soon as one of your hands touched his face.

It was addictive and calming at the same time to have your skin against his. Your fingers gliding along his cheek and going to his jaw, tracing the line to his lower lip. At that moment he closed his eyes, thinking about how lucky he was to have found you. How it was worth waiting, protecting you, and fighting for what you two had until that moment.

“I love you” Jaeyun would never get tired of saying it. He would shout it to the world if he could.

“I love you” you answered back, in a whisper, before leaning on your tiptoes to kiss his lips as your thumb fell back to his chin. Feeling the movement his jaw was making as he deepened the kiss, intertwining his tongue with yours and pulling you even closer to his body.

Jaeyun wished he had the superpower to hold you there, between his arms, and make you feel safe without having to distance yourself. Just the thought that you and he couldn't live together twenty-four hours a day made him anxious. You being in a corporate building while he stayed in the mansion for a while drove him crazy. Maybe you should move in with him, or he should move the company's office into the mansion, so the two of you could work together when he couldn't go to the building where he was still a partner.

“I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you” he whispered against your lips, placing small kisses on your lower lip before sliding his teeth over the fleshy part. You smiled slowly, agreeing with a small nod before resting your hands against his chest.

He was a work of art right in front of you, and you couldn't get used to how perfect he was. Every time your hand slowly moved down his skin, Jaeyun left small kisses on your lips, each one longer than the last. Until his fingers, trembling, passed over the small scar.

You didn't want to look away at that moment, your focus should have been on the kisses Jaeyun was still distributing across your mouth and chin, but that came back to your mind with fervor. Your eyes quickly darted down, your fingers stopped over the small mark where they had pulled out the bullet that had hit him. Involuntarily a breathless sigh escaped between your lips.

“Hey” Jaeyun called you, his hand resting on your waist, quickly rising to your chin to lift your face and make you look at him again. “Focus up here, okay?”

There was no way to be okay with the thought that he might not be there anymore. That it hurt him in a way you never thought you would see. And you didn't even want to see it anymore.

He kissed you again, a little more intensely this time. The goal was to make you forget what you had seen or at least get it out of your head at that moment, because he just wanted to enjoy it with you. The purpose of that bath was to make you not get mad at him, so Jaeyun would do his best.

While the battle of his tongue against yours took place, the dominance of the kiss taking hold as your lips danced against each other, he walked the few steps until he rested one of his hands against the wall and placed your back against the cold tile. You moaned against his mouth, making him smile at the reaction he had gained from you.

“Jae…”

“I want to make sure you forget anything bad for now” he whispered, sliding his mouth down to your neck, creating a path with the tip of his tongue until he reached your collarbone. He sucked your skin a little hard, and as soon as you responded with a moan, Jaeyun soothed the spot again with the tip of his tongue before running the tip of his nose over your goosebumps. Inhaling your characteristic scent mixed with the liquid soap you had applied a few minutes ago.

There was no way you could think of anything other than his lips on your skin and the way he positioned himself between your legs. Your hands quickly ran to Jaeyun's shoulders, seeking support in whatever was going to happen at that moment, you had no idea if he was going to tease you or what he was going to do. You just wanted to enjoy the moment.

“Y/n” he called your name, making your eyes quickly search for his. It wasn't hard to find the intensity of Jaeyun's gaze that was already staring at you in the same way. His forehead rested against yours, his hand slowly going to his hard cock and sliding between your folds.

“Shit” you cursed softly, knowing that the ease of Jaeyun's cock head sliding through your pussy was due to the amount of moisture you were, how wet you were, along with the water from the bath that made it easier. He knew exactly where to stimulate or tease you, giving good attention and the right amount of pressure to your clit when the head of his cock passed there.

Your hands ran up to Jaeyun's face, resting one on each side of his cheeks. The teasing of your clit didn't last long, he didn't want to waste time, so he took advantage of your wet pussy to slide down to your entrance. Without warning, he pushed his hips forward and shoved his cock into your pussy.

“Jaeyun” you moaned against his mouth as he pulled his face close to yours. Jaeyun pressed his nose close to yours when both of your faces were aligned with each other, sharing rapid breathing.

“I'll protect you from anything, love” he held his intonation so as not to moan in the middle of the sentence, starting to move his hips back and forth. Taking his cock out of your pussy to leave only the tip around your hole, penetrating deeply again until his cock reached its limit “To make sure you don't need anything else.”

“I just need you” your voice was a whisper, if he wasn’t so close to your face and focusing on your every movement and reaction, Jaeyun wouldn’t have heard what you had to say.

He smiled slowly against your lips, kissing you with the same slowness that his hips moved back and forth against your pussy.

With each slow and careful movement of Jaeyun, you felt your body heat up and press yourself even more against him. Feeling full with each deep but careful thrust of his cock inside you. A contrast to the persona you were getting to know from your boyfriend beyond what he had already shown you in the last few months. It was exciting to know that he would do anything for you, killing people who tried to hurt you, but at the same time being there. The most loving and slow sex you two had since you met.

As if he was afraid to go faster, to sink his cock into you and go all the way to your cervix and make you scream his name. Instead, Jaeyun had very fluid movements of his hips, hearing the sound of slapping the skin as his pelvis came into contact with yours. His cock was thrusting deep into you with slow movements, almost as if he wanted to tease you. But you wanted to feel him slowly entering, the prominent veins of his cock standing out against the velvety, warm walls of your pussy.

“I promise to always be here for you” Jaeyun pulled your body closer, your hand falling from his face to rest on his shoulder. As his hand cupped your neck and rested his thumb against the line of your jaw, “I promise—” he groaned as your pussy clenched around him. The sweet words along with the movements of his cock moving in and out of you were too much to handle. You were vulnerable and he seemed to be feeding it all. “Don’t squeeze me like that, baby.”

“I can’t…” you moaned as he thrust hard the only time since he put his cock inside you, as a small punishment as your pussy clenched around him again. You threw your head back, pressing it against the tile. Jaeyun wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling your face towards him and tilting it towards him.

“Eyes on me when you cum” he asked gently, but in a way that you couldn’t possibly answer while he was still thrusting his cock into you so slowly and precisely.

Your eyes were having trouble staying open as you stared at him, seeing your boyfriend’s dark orbs and the occasional moans he let out every time his cock bottomed out, nudging your cervix. You knew it was hard, especially with the firm way he was holding your throat and when his movements started to get more erratic.

“More… Faster, please” you begged, begging with teary eyes as Jaeyun tried not to give in to it. He wanted to go as slowly as possible, make love to you, and claim you even more than you already were his. But with your more than pornographic moan, he couldn't take it anymore. There was no way to stay still with that, encouraging him to go faster.

He lightly pressed his fingers against your throat, bringing his other hand to your waist to steady your body and start thrusting into you a little faster. The water between you two splashed and the sound of slapping skin became even louder than the moans you and he shared.

Jaeyun knew your body, he knew you were close to orgasm by the way your mouth was half open, letting the moans come out freely. The way your pussy sucked him when he stopped his movements for a few seconds just to hear you grunt, sliding your nails across his shoulders leaving half-moon marks against the skin.

Leaning forward and pulling your face towards his with his hand still on your neck, he joined your lips in a sloppy kiss. Drool dripping down the sides and lips messily slamming against each other, just trying to muffle any screams from your as he intensified his thrusts, going a little harder.

It didn't take long for you to feel your body falling apart. Jaeyun didn't have to do much to make it happen, just his existence alone would be enough to drive you crazy. You slid your teeth against his lower lip, keeping your eyes on your boyfriend's penetrating gaze the whole time as the knot in your stomach burst. The walls of your pussy squeezed him as you came, moaning Jaeyun's name like a mantra memorized by the heavens in your biggest and best orgasm.

He didn't last less than that, feeling his cock twitch and tremble against your pulsating walls as he released jets of hot cum, painting the inside of your pussy as he continued to thrust his cock into you. Staying strong in his last thrusts so that no fluid would be wasted while he still had your pussy wrapped around him. Pulsing and convulsing, your body trembling in his arms until you both came down from your climax together.

The long minutes that followed until you both recovered were slow and captivating. Jaeyun was careful as he pulled his cock out of you, whimpering along with you at the slight overstimulation of both of you.

Staying with his forehead against yours, he let his breathing calm down along with his heartbeat.

“I meant what I said” he whispered to you, his fingertips starting to get wrinkled as the time in the shower stretched on. But neither of you cared about that now “Nothing bad will happen to you.”

“I know that” you replied, forcing your voice to sound firm after using all your strength to moan his name minutes ago. Your hands tried to soothe the skin on Jaeyun’s shoulders that had been abused by your long nails “I trust you with this, but…”

“But?” he encouraged you, pulling away a little so he could look at you better.

“But I want to protect you too, it’s not fair that you do this for me when—” your eyes quickly went to the small scar. Even if he had told you not to look, there was no way you could just forget “You sacrifice yourself to that extent.”

“I know, love” Jaeyun sighed, his lips slowly leaving a kiss on your forehead. “I promise to be more careful with this, okay?”

“Okay” you tried to calm yourself down, seeing the sincerity in the tone of his voice that he offered you.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug while Jaeyun rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I love you, Jake Sim” you said after a while, smiling against his skin as you left a kiss near his collarbone, making his body shiver.

Not even in Jaeyun’s best dreams would he hear you say that. Never calling him Jake, that name never being uttered by you so casually.

“I love you so much more, my love” he replied, pulling your face up to capture his lips in a quick kiss.

You knew that Jaeyun would keep taking risks if it meant keeping you safe. You knew he would only say that so you wouldn't worry and wouldn't be so mad at him if you saw him on another mission or going after such dangerous people again. But you also wanted him to know that with a mobster boyfriend, you could also learn a few things to protect him just as much.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[suzukiblu]

Day one of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon sighs, then dusts his hands off and eyes Croc’s unconscious body, debating how the fuck he’s supposed to handle this situation. Fuck knows where the cops are, and there’s already a bunch of civilians taking pics and shit of him, so he really doesn’t wanna wait for ‘em. Also, like, explaining why he committed aggravated assault on a giant crocodile dude to the cops does not sound like his favorite time anyway, especially Gotham cops. He technically does have an emergency comm on him, but it’s obviously not tuned into any of the local Bat-channels and he doesn’t really know if he’d be able to sync it up to ‘em. 

Admittedly, Alfred is like, half a block down the street with a cell phone and probably already told his boss literally everything that just happened, but still. 

Actually, speaking of Alfred . . .

Kon refocuses his hearing back towards the limo, and hears–

“Wowwwww,” Jon says from the backseat, sounding awed about . . . something–who knows what, given he’s like ten and Kon doesn’t even know the grown-ass version of him well enough to know what kind of shit the dude thinks is impressive–and Alfred makes a little “hm” sound. 

“Mr. Kent, I do hope you’ve got an ear out,” he says, which even if Kon didn’t would’ve caught his attention pretty quick. “The police have an estimated time of arrival at two and a half minutes, and they were informed to come equipped for Killer Croc. Please do retreat out of the public eye for now, though I’m sure Master Bruce would appreciate the consideration if you wouldn’t mind keeping a bit of an eye on the situation until they have Mr. Jones secured. We’ll rendezvous with you on Pearl Street in seven minutes.” 

There is literally no version of Bruce Wayne that has ever “appreciated” a single thing Kon has ever considered in his life, except maybe for that one weirdo in Hypertime who’d definitely just wanted a Robin that was bombproof this time, but whatever. Kon nods once, short and sharp, and then takes off with superspeed in the opposite direction from Croc and the fucked-up street, if not Super-speed. That he saves ‘til he ducks into a conveniently out-of-sight alley, shoves the security camera over the emergency exit in the back of it askew with his TTK, and then takes off straight up into the air too fast for human eyes to follow. 

He should’ve avoided tearing up the street like that, probably, even if Croc and his boys had already fucked it up pretty bad. Didn’t mean he needed to go making shit worse. He’s maybe a little stressed, but he fucking knows better. 

Ugh. 

Kon hangs out above the heavy gray smog and cloud cover, wishing there were some sun up here instead of just moonless night, and keeps one ear focused on Croc and the other half-paying attention to the limo, just in case. The cops do in fact show up in two and a half minutes, and by then Alfred’s already taken Jon and the limo most of the way to Pearl Street. Kon can hear Jon chattering excitedly about something and Alfred at least making some more little “hm” sounds in response, though he doesn’t focus in enough to eavesdrop. Rude, for one thing, and also a distraction he should be avoiding anyway. 

He waits around to make sure they get Croc locked up nice and secure in the heavy-duty restraints and armored truck they brought without him waking up and taking anyone’s head off or anything like that, and it goes surprisingly smoothly for Gotham, though the cops have a fuckin’ time of it getting Croc’s K.O.’ed ass into the back of the truck. Kon would be more concerned about the possibility of a head injury with the guy staying out for so long, but a quick X-ray glance already cleared him for at least the first-aid level basics, so like, it’s probably that weird “toxic mobility” thing Tim was talking about that time he was explaining Croc’s whole thing to him. Or–no, “tonic”, and “immobility”. Whatever, he just knows Croc usually stays out longer than a baseline human would and it’s not a concern. Just some weird side effect of his whole . . . everything, basically. 

This is not in any way his circus or even his monkeys, but hey, why not be the interdimensional version of neighborly? Like, just while he’s in the reality and all. Lend the local Bats a cup of sugar, metaphorically-speaking. Batman’s gonna bitch about him doing it and how he handled it the first second he sees him, obviously–even after Alfred asked him to do it, he’ll definitely bitch–but whatever. He wasn’t gonna let anybody get hurt just because Batman gets pissy when vigilantes without any Bat-branding exist in his territory. 

So yeah, he waits around.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 14, Silence after the storm

Masterlist Word count: 1.7 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Homestretch baby! Just the epilogue left. Thank ya'll for reading this story, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments. I love you all so fucking much <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'As much as I love that you stood up for yourself. You can't just go around punching your ex square in the jaw.' Sylus looks like a kicked puppy sitting on the bench behind bars. His looks already tells you that he knows, he just doesn't want to admit it. 'Anyway, Zayne is paying your bail.' 

'You shouldn't let him do that.' 

'Sylus, baby, I love you, but you know I have no control over that man. He was already filling in the paperwork by the time I fully understood what happened.' As if on que, an officer walks over and unlocks the cell door. 

'Alright, get out,' he grumbles as he gestures for Sylus to make haste, 'your bail is paid and from what I can tell, that woman isn't pressing charges.' 

'Good, then can I press charges,' Sylus questions the man as he walks out of the cell. That surprises the officer. 

'What for?' 

'Did you watch the security footage?' The officer shakes his head. 'She attacked me first and I have it on file that she has attacked me before. I want to press charges and file for a restraining order.' 

'O-okay,' the officer stutters, 'follow me.' Sylus takes your hand and drags you along. You feel like you're gleaming. You've never been prouder of anyone in your whole dang life. It is so inexplicably hot to see him take his power back like this. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The drive home was tense. Incredibly so. It might've had something to do with Sylus’ hand between your thighs while he was driving your car, or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact you told him he could do anything to you when you got home. You know, as a treat for being such a brave boy. 

By the time you got home, you were dripping wet and the tent in Sylus pants was undeniable. That's when he asked it. 

'You said I could do anything to you. Would you suck me off on camera?' 

'To post?' 

'Yes,' he answered quickly, a sly smirk on his lips as he took your jaw in his hand, 'you face doesn't have to be in it, but I want to show people how happy you make me. And maybe to claim you a little.' 

“Be still my beating vagina.” 

And now you are on your knees in front of Sylus. The whole thing looks an awful lot like the video he made when he first met you. 

Sylus on the edge of his bed, phone on the dresser recording, him fully clothed but some loose buttons on his shirt and his dick out of his pants. Only this time his head is in frame and only the top of your head is in it. Feels like a very strange full circle moment. 

'Take your shirt off for me, sweetie.' His voice is a rumbling command, which you had expected. He portrays himself much more dominant than he actually is, yet you can't help but give him the brattiest look you can muster up. He smirks and runs a hand through your hair, grabbing it tightly in the back and lifting a little. You quickly move with his motion as he tilts your had back. 'Are you gonna play nice for me?' 

Shit, that's so fucking hot. You nod as frantically as you can with his hand holding your hair. Since you didn't really want your likeness on the internet in this way, you agreed you wouldn't have to speak. 

He lets go of your hair and you sit back on your heels. His eyes never leave yours whiles you take your shirt off. 'Loose the bra.' You do as he says. 'Good girl.' This experience is already mouth and pussy wateringly good. You sincerely hope he'll take this role more often if you ask him to. 

'Well, what are you waiting for?' And even in this role, he tells you he's consenting but giving you all the power and looking at you expectantly to see your answer. It is the hottest thing and makes your stomach tingle. 

You move your mouth to his tip and press a kiss on top. He physically shudders, but tries to hide it a little. Then, you lick a stripe on the underside of his dick from the base to the tip, licking up his precum. He groans and puts his hand in your hair again. 

'Are you teasing me?' You don't answer, don't nod, you just bat your eyes at him looking oh so innocent. Before he can say anything else, you blow on his tip. The air out of your mouth feels razor sharp over his moist dick. Surprised, he lets out a whine, and then he looks back at you with fire in his eyes, daring you to do something else, screaming: "Try me." 

And you do. You move to his lower stomach, just next to his V-line, and bite down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to elicit a hiss from him. In response, he pulls your head back, grabs your jaw with his other hand and forces it open. 

'That's enough, sweetie,' he states, 'choke on it.' Once again, there's a hint of question in his lust blown eyes. When you nod the slightest bit, he pushes you down on his cock, hitting the back of your throat in one swift movement. He holds you there for a while, still searching your eyes for any sign of wanting to back out. Instead, you try to force him down a little further until you feel yourself start to gag and his dick start to twitch. 

That's when he pulls you off. You take one look at him and know that he is already close. His ears and cheeks are bright red, pupils blown, breathing heavy. 'Go ahead, sweetie. You know what to do.' You nod again and slide one hand up to his chest, the other wrapped around the length that doesn't fit in your mouth as you start to set a steady pace. 

He takes the hand on his chest and presses a kiss to your fingertips. Strings of moans and groans start to fill the room as you tether him closer and closer to the edge. 'Come on sweetie, I'm almost there,' he whines, desperately chasing his release. 

You hollow out your cheeks and grab the hand in your hair with the hand that was around the base of his dick. He looks down at you questioningly, but quickly gets what you're getting at. 

"Use me." 

He starts bucking his hips into your mouth, forcing your head against him until you're almost swallowing him. It's a beautiful sight, slightly blurred by the tears stinging in your eyes. It takes mere seconds for him to fall over the edge. He pulls out of your mouth, but you hold it open, ready to take his release. 

'Shit, that's hot,' he comments quietly as you take all of his seed and swallow it. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he leans down again and meets your lips in a passionate kiss. 'Thank you,' he breathes against your lips. His arm moves past you to stop the recording. Then, he guides you to come sit on his lap. 'Do you want aftercare or do you want more?' 

'Sylus,' you croak, not realizing the damage you've just done to your throat, 'that was the hottest thing I've ever seen. You're crazy if you think I want to stop here. Do you want aftercare?’ 

'Why would I want aftercare?' 

'Because you just forced your dick down my throat for the first time and I can imagine you might feel a little bit bad after that.' He smiles and pulls you against him, strong arms engulfing your body. 

'The only aftercare I need is returning the favor,' he whispers in your ear. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

"Returning the favor" he said. Yeah, because one orgasm is synonymous with five. Four from his tongue and the last one with his dick. If you were croaking after that blowjob, you were surely croaking after all that. Sylus is not completely dominant, but if he were he'd be a fucking pleasure dom for damn sure. That man enjoys your orgasms more than you do. 

It's deep in the night, you are both spend. Sylus has his head on your shoulder, limbs entangled with yours as you run your hand through his hair and occasionally press kisses on his head and forehead. Soft conversation flows freely, waiting for either of you to fall asleep while both being too wired from the activities. 

'Does the "do anything to you" still count,' Sylus asks out of nowhere. You can tell there's something on his mind that he's been wrecking his brain over. 

'Depends.' 

'On?' 

'What you're about to say.' He takes a moment to consider what he's going to say and how he's going to say it. His arms tighten around your body, pulling you closer to him. Whatever he wants to discuss is something he is quite nervous about. 

'With all the steps I'm trying to take, I realized I forgot about one thing,' he starts. His mumblings soft, barely audible. 

'What's that?' 

'I realized I never asked you to move in with me.' The world stops for a second, Sylus’ heart beats out of his chest waiting for you to respond. Only for you to start giggling. He's confused, hurt. Is this rejection? 

'So you're going to make me move in with you?' He chuckles, understanding the humor in the situation. It's almost like a slap in the face. He was so sleep drunk that he almost forgot he started this conversation with the "do anything to you" line. 

The giggling dies down and you feel his hands caress the naked skin of your body, desperately awaiting your reply. 'Sylus, my apartment is basically a storage unit at this point. I'm already living with you. But, if you don't mind moving again, I'd like a place that's a little bigger if you are sure about this.' 

'I would move anywhere for you. I'll adapt to any place if you're there with me.' 

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[raynewolferune]

Battle of the Not It

Just me pushing my personal agenda that the Battle for the Cowl makes no freaking sense once again.

I want to see the Battle of the Not It, Nose Goes, Worst out of 126+ Rounds of Rock Paper Siscors Takes It, etc. Basically, the Batfam throwing down in Bruce's absence to Not Be The One Who Inherits (TM). No one wants dear dad's emo fursona but they all agree someone has to take it. The resulting Loser Gets Batmanned sibling war throws Gotham into chaos, Oracle's keeping score of everything, the one with the lowest score at the end of every week is stuck with Batman Duty the following week.

Damian hates loosing his swords everytime he gets stuck doing Batman. Tim can't stand losing his tech. Jason misses his guns. Cass hates having to talk on can't use words days. Staphanie hates doing the voice. Dick can't tolerate being unable to smile. Duke needs his freaking sleep. The list goes on because they've all agreed they hate to embody Bruce's Batman, no one can put their own flare on it (Gun!Batman will not happen on their watch and they won't risk any other equally horrible variation either.) The resulting sibling war takes place 24/7 in the masks and the criminals and citizens of Gotham are as awed as they are horrified by it.

The strangest alliances form and disolve week to week. Dick cheats whenever he gets close to loosing and dips out because "Bludhaven needs him." Cass flits off to China on a last minute mission when too many of her siblings start forming up an alliance against her. Steph breaks her leg (she says it's an accident but Tim has very vocal doubts about that). Tim, Duke, and Damien start teaming up against Jason frequently and Red Hood gets stuck doing Batman practically every other week. Other weeks, Jason picks one of them as Robin for his Batman week (rotating between them as revenge) and forces a temporary alliance to make another of them Batman for the next week. Alfred encourages the four's little rivalry and manages to finagle them into all staying in the manor full time with him.

Just Batfam bonding shenanigans over how much they all Do Not want to be Batman.

And when Bruce comes back Babs naturally has a highlight reel waiting for him. Some of the gems include: Steph in a cast with crutches say "oh no, I broke my leg, however will I be Batman now" in the most deadpan voice. Dick 'answering' an obviously turned off cell phone pretending it's an emergency calling him back to Bludhaven. Cass saluting the security camera as she leaves with a full duffle bag in the dead of night. Jason in the Batsuit, minus cowl, storming into the kitchen shouting "you little shits are conspiring against me!" As Tim, Duke, and Damien are crowded around the island with a bunch of documents clearing planning something. A heated game of Rock Paper Scissors between Dick, Jason, and Tim with the rest of the batkids watching (having already won their freedom from the cowl for the following week). Duke wearing the cowl and asking Oracle repeatedly over coms if it's time for bed yet. Damien throwing a full on tantrum trying to get out of wearing the physical cowl "it's unnecessary and impractical!"

Oracle sends him the reel a day after his return during the standard Justice League team meeting, helpfully projecting it so everyone can see. The reels starts with an argument in the Bat Cave between all of Batman's (previously unknown to the Justice League) children:

"Well, Dickhead, I guess this means you're it now." The clip starts with a red helmeted man speaking.

"The fuck?" Nightwing asks on screen.

"You're Batman now." The teenager with yellow bandoliers replies from where he sits in front of an enormous computer. A girl in purple and another in black both nod. (At this point, it begins to dawn on members of the Justice League that this is footage from the fabled Bat Cave they're seeing.)

"Oh, fuck that!" Nightwing answers. "Not it!" He shouts. The boy with the bandoliers jolts and then says seemingly reflexively.

"Nose goes!" Bandolier boy calls out hand shooting up and touching his nose as he speaks. Both girls and Nightwing react immediately following suit. A smaller boy with a sword copies them a half second later. The red helmeted man sputters.

"Wha-that-NO! NO NO NO NO NO! I am not the one! Fuck no!"

"You snooze you loose, Bro." Nightwings tells him.

There's a pause, red helmet starts laughing, pulls the helmet off slowly to reveal a red domino underneath, and lazily touches his nose with a sharp grin.

"You're right, Bro." He says teasingly. "And Signal's still sleeping." A short pause and then all the people on screen are laughing.

"Oh," bandoliers gasps out between giggles. "He is gonna be so pissed in the morning."

[l3tm3kn0w]

CHAPTER ONE: The Wheel of Fortune

jungkook x reader | friends to lovers | spiderman!au — link to masterlist

chapter summary: your mission to get an interview from spiderman reaches a new milestone as the arachnid vigilante acknowledges your presence during your latest chase, and the wheels of fortune are put into motion as you're faced with a devastating turn of events

wc: 8k

warning: explicit language, swearing, sexual innuendos/jokes, one joke about brutally murdering a best friend, mentions of drinking, mentions of kidapping, slow burn that’s burning slowly, jungkook has a crush tho ur just fucking oblivious sorry, other bitches wanting jungkook also deserves a warning i fear

a/n: hello world, hello tumblr!! first time publishing something here (a sister hailing from ao3 speaking) so please bear with me as i try to relearn how to navigate this website from my preteens. i’ve DMs open & believe i also opened asks????? with anon enabled???? (help????) so if you want to holler at me, you may do so there as well :)

aaaaand, welcome to the first chapter, where we’re really just setting the scene for what’s to come, hehe. please know that i don’t have a beta-reader, so please excuse any mistakes i might’ve accidentally left in 😣

hope you’ll enjoy it!! happy reading <3

You watch as the man plummets towards the ground from the 12th floor balcony.

A pretty jammed crowd of bystanders have formed on the street corner you, too, are standing on, watching with bated breath as the suited figure limply approaches the ground. You play with the voice recorder in your hand as parents cover their children’s eyes, and friends tightly grab onto each other in anticipation. The rest have their cell phones’ cameras up and ready, but the focus is not on the falling man.

You take a deep breath.

“C’mon,” you mutter under your breath. A man elbows you in the ribs, but you graciously ignore it in favour of not breaking your focus. “C’mon, c’mon, dude, show up. Show up. Don’t be a false reporting and an unnecessary trauma, c’mon.”

A gunshot is heard from somewhere within the apartment building. A window breaks, but it’s hard to say if it’s because of the bullet or the lean, male figure that jumped through it. 

The crowd gasps as if one person, heads and cameras both immediately snapping towards the new person, clad in unmistakable red and blue. You allow yourself a satisfied smirk. He free falls for a moment, and someone shrieks, and you don’t bother trying to suppress your snort because, come on, it’s obvious that in the very next second, he’s going to— yup, Spiderman shoots a web, as Spiderman tends to do, and swings towards the suited man in a pleasant, even arch. 

OK. Good. So, Spiderman is here. 

Time to get into position.

“Excuse me, sorry,” you mutter as you fight your way through the crowd, trying to secure a nice spot around the edge, towards the closer side. People don’t really mind you, looking awestruck with their mouths slightly open as Spiderman’s hands steadily encircle the torso of the man who was previously plummeting towards certain death, very heroic indeed. And anyways — you’re a native New Yorker. Meaning you’re not above a little elbowing here and there when the situation calls for it. “Sorry, I’m coming through, excuse me.”

The crowd spits you out at the edge. 

After stumbling a little, you huff, fixing the straps of your backpacks on your shoulders, and ruffling your hair. 

You walk a little closer, just in time to hear the crowd erupt in a loud cheer as Spiderman touches ground, the loan shark looking man in his forties held bridal style in his arms. God, now that’s a sight. You should’ve brought your camera — if only you didn’t catch the report on Spidey-Watch so last minute while stepping off the subway.

OK. Approximately 25 seconds, now. That’s what you have.

You lean down to retie the shoelaces of your trainers. Tightly. With a double knot, and all. 

Spiderman sets the man on his feet. Tentatively, the man, too, releases the hold he has around Spiderman’s shoulders. 

He looks shaken, understandably. Face pale, clearly on the brink of vomiting, legs shaking as he takes a few tentative steps. The reality that his bones didn’t end up cracking into a million little pieces seems to sink in for him as he cries, hands flying back to grip onto the vigilante’s shoulders. “You saved me, Spiderman.”

“Yeah.” Spiderman nods. He pats the man’s hands on his shoulders — maybe in a show of comfort, maybe in an awkward attempt to get them off. “Please make more responsible deals in the future. Preferably not with the, y’know, uh. . . the mob.”

“I didn’t know they were the mob, Spiderman.” The man shakes his head, voice very utterly serious, before giving himself away by swallowing. 

“Of course you didn’t,” Spiderman complies.

“Of course I didn’t,” the man affirms. He gasps, taking his hands off of Spiderman’s latex suit clad shoulders to rummage through the inner pockets of his suit jackets. “Wait a second.”

You take the chance to walk closer to the scene on the sidelines while the crowd is busy watching intently as the man produces a 5$ Starbucks gift card. Some gasp, some sigh in awe. Personally, you just think he’s a bit of a cheap ass loser as you grip your voice recorder tighter, fingers hovering ready over the buttons. 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” Spiderman shakes his head as he declines the generous offer, holding out his palms in rejection.

“Please, take it,” says the man, pushing the gift card into the vigilante’s chest before swiftly letting it go, so that the other has no chance but to grab it before it falls to the ground. “Let me repay you. Thank you, Spiderman.”

“Thank you, Spiderman,” the crowd echoes. 

The scene is a bit funny. In the same way it’s funny when people clap when a plane lands.

OK. About 10 seconds now. 

Spiderman quickly says his goodbyes to his impromptu audience, throwing up a few peace signs here and there while shooting a web behind him, ready to take off. 

“Goodbye, you people. Drink water and, uh, stay safe!” Spiderman starts walking backwards as he speaks, gradually gaining speed. “Oh, and wear sunscreen!”

The crowd answers, “We will, Spiderman!”

And just like that, Spiderman is off. 

It’s your time to shine. In your comfortable running trainers, you take off on the pavement, right under where he swings, attention divided between evading fellow pedestrians and keeping an eye on the arachnid vigilante. 

“Spiderman! Hey, Spiderman!” you shout. For a moment, you swear you see him teeter. “Spiderman, I’m ___ from the NYU Weekly, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

Nothing. 

Spiderman keeps swinging. So, what to do, you keep running.

“Spiderman!” you continue, “I study journalism with a minor in communications and am writing my thesis on the presentation of superheroes in the media, and I think an interview with you could give great insight on the subject to the academics!”

Spiderman keeps swinging. 

In your heedlessness, you faintly crash into one of the green, metal bins out on the street with your hip, letting out a painful yelp as you press a palm against the most likely forming bruise to soothe the pain. 

But still, you keep running. 

“Miss!” you hear someone shout. Snapping your head up, you see Spiderman looking down on you as he glides through the air, expression hidden behind his mask but voice a bit desperate. “Miss, please stop doing this, it’s very dangerous.”

“Give me an interview?” you try, starting to get out of breath. 

You’ve never gotten this far before. Usually, he manages to shake you off pretty quickly at the first approaching street corner. This is a bit more than what you’ve been working out in the university’s gym for. 

This might just be your chance, though— Spiderman actually acknowledged your presence, it’s been like half a minute and you’re still hot on his trail, and your new running shoes, although very, very fugly, are holding up great so far. 

But before you have a chance to give it another try, a few — unexpected to your calculations — things happen in quick succession. 

You hear Spiderman let out an uncharacteristical squeak, and the next thing you know, you’re falling back on your ass, some of the textbooks in your backpack painfully digging into your back as you collide with a news stand by the crosswalk. 

A few metres from you, cars start speeding down the road as the lights turn green. 

“I’m really sorry, miss!” Spiderman shouts once more. “Soak it in one part water and one part vinegar overnight! And be more careful watching where you’re going, please!”

And with that, Spiderman turns the corner, and away he swings above the New York traffic. 

Well. There’s always next time.

Groaning, you push yourself up into a squat with both hands on the ground, before massaging the strain in the top of your neck where your head has jerked back upon impact with the news stand. 

All over your chest, are slimy, gooey, sticky white spiderwebs. You try not to cry.

The sweater is cashmere.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi Min, a short, mint-haired communications major senior with cat-like tendencies and an endless temperament, (and your best friend since the diapers, but that’s worth mentioning only on the margins), whisper-yells as you slide into the seat next to him during the ongoing lecture. 

Eyes on the presentation screen, you pull your laptop and water bottle out of your bag without any haste, trying to get an idea of which lecture of yours you are even sitting in on right now. You catch a few buzzwords like defamation, source credibility, Johnny Depp, and deep fakes on the presentation. 

Introduction to Media Law, is the most feasible conclusion you can come to.

“I had a lead,” you mutter to Yoongi as you power up OneNote on your screen. 

“You mean you stalked him on Twitter,” Yoongi corrects. He drops his stylus in favour of tugging on the sweater you didn’t have time to change out of, curiously touching the gooey remains of spiderwebs before wiping it back into the material from his fingers with a scrunched up face. “Ew. You look as if someone depraved just came all across your tits. What the fuck did you do this time?”

“As you can see, I had an actual interaction with Spiderman this time.” You smirk. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Details are unimportant. The point is, now I’m sure he knows who I am, and the next time he sees me he’ll—”

“Wait,” Yoongi interrupts. “What do you mean next time? Namjoon told you to give up on the article.”

“That’s only because Namjoon’s been dumped again and became a defeatist.” You shake your head. The lecturer asks a question, so you start randomly typing on your keyboard. Old man Professor Hendersson’s a softie, he wouldn’t call on a student busy in the making of the perfect lecture notes. Some person in the third row answers him, and so you continue to do the same to Yoongi. “Dude’s gonna be kissing my feet when I make him the first NYU Weekly editor who signs off on an Avengers feature.”

“Avengers-adjacent.” Yoongi corrects.

“Spiderman wouldn’t appreciate you saying that.”

Yoongi snorts. “What a relief Spiderman won’t hear shit of what I say.”

“Hey guys,” whispers a third voice. 

Jungkook Jeon — shy, giggly, fellow journalism major junior with a long haircut that makes him look like a triangle kimbap — slides into the other seat next to Yoongi, only a notebook and a branded cup of coffee in hand. 

He looks slightly out of breath, cheeks aflame, and clothes messy, his large black t-shirt hanging inside out on his lean figure. It’s 11:42, which might as well be the ass crack of dawn in Jungkook-terms. He must’ve slept in. 

Jungkook settles in the seat, taking a sip of his coffee with the straw as he turns the pages of his notebook to the next blank. That is when he seems to remember something. 

Before he could even look over and ask, you reach over Yoongi (who scratches your arm that blocks his sight of his iPad, HayDay opened, which is not very nice of him, is it, but see — the aforementioned cat-like tendencies) to hand him the pen you’ve fished out of your bag the moment Jungkook sat down.

You know him too well.

Cheeks going a bit pinker, Jungkook huffs, accepting the pen as he whispers, “Thanks, ___”

“Welcome, as usual.”

Yoongi pipes up, his interrogative gaze turning to Jungkook this time. “And you? Been on a coffee date, debating existentialism and forgot time exists? Why am I the only one taking my education seriously?”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “No offence, dude, but the only thing I see you taking seriously is trying to hack into Seokjin’s farm to sell his raspberry cupcakes to yourself.”

“I need to sell some to Greg.” Yoongi shrugs. “And I, unlike you dipshits, was here on time, wasn’t I?”

“I was at my Stark internship,” Jungkook whispers, before mumblingly adding, “In case it was genuine curiosity.”

You sigh. You look at this boy, with a hint of pity in your eyes. So young, so bright, way too cute for his own good, but just a bit too easy for this big, bad world. “Jungkook?”

“Hm?” he hums.

“Do you think you’ll ever get hired?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just that, didn’t you say you’ve been interning for him since junior year of high school?” you continue. In your years of friendship with the guy, steady since the freshmen camp in Upstate NY he ditched after a day and a half, you’ve heard your fair share about this internship at whichever branch of Tony Stark’s company, both from Jungkook and his childhood friends, Jimin and Taehyung alike. “It sounds like the old Ironbag is exploiting your labour for me. Go somewhere you’re appreciated. And is relevant to your studies.”

“Damn, I just realised it.” Yoongi pipes up.

You didn’t dignify him with asking the question. Yoongi’s eyes are screaming bullshit. You’ve known your own childhood friend for a bit too long to fall for an obvious bait like that. 

Jungkook, who has been looking at you with a nervous glint in his eyes, though, is seemingly not as seasoned as you are. “Realised what?”

“Thank you so much for asking, Jungkook,” Yoongi pats the younger boy’s arm, before turning to you. “I’ve realised that you’re exhibiting extreme levels of jobless behaviour and should take your own advice first.” Next, he addresses Jungkook again. “Can you believe she was chasing Spiderman down the city this morning, too? That’s jobless. Jungkookie can at least put the Stark stuff on his resume.”

“I can, too,” you protest. The only reason you’re doing any of this is for the good of your academic advancement, after all. And if you get some brownie points with Namjoon for it, too… well? 

“Yeah, you can put ‘stalker psycho’ as a previous position,” Yoongi says. “Will open lots of doors for you.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I become the first journalist to get an interview with Spiderman, like, ever, and get hired to The New York Times straight out of college, but you do you, Yoongles.”

“Correction. Put ‘delusional stalker psycho.’”

“I—”

“Why do you want it so bad, anyways?” Jungkook interrupts, quickly averting his eyes when you look over at him again and catch him staring at your chest, and. . .  right. Spider goo on your sweater. As already stated, he interrupted your bickering, but good thing he did, because you already have one hand in the air ready to whack Yoongi, and killing him might not be appropriate behaviour during lecture. Even if none of you are paying attention to it, and skinning Yoongi alive would be much more beneficial to your career in the long run. “You could just get an interview with Daredevil for the thesis. I think he gives out interviews from time to time.”

Yoongi snickers. “She’s scared of Daredevil.”

“I’m scared of Hell’s Kitchen,” you correct. “That’s very different.”

“It’s understandable, though,” Jungkook says, smiling sweetly at you while he doodles on the corner of his notebook. “The crime rate is a bit high there. I get it.”

“Oh, no Jungkookie, you don’t.” Yoongi shakes his head. He has a shit-eating grin curling on the edge of his lips, looking you up and down coyly as he whispers to Jungkook in dramatics. “She’s afraid of Hell’s Kitchen because she used to think Gordon Ramsey was Daredevil. Wanted to avoid him at all costs.”

It’s silent for the while — well, silent between the three of you. Professor Hendersson has started playing some video on the screen and that’s pretty loud. 

Poor man has no clue on how to control the speaker system. 

“I’m… pretty sure he’s not,” Jungkook says tentatively.

“Tell that to an 8 year-old me who was awfully confused by Hell’s Kitchen, the neighbourhood and Hell’s Kitchen, the television show.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend. “You’re right, Yoongi, I don’t get it.”

Yoongi pats his arms. “No problem, Jungkook. Being weird as fuck is her only charm.”

Jungkook looks ready to either confirm or fight that standpoint, but you interrupt.

“Anyways, I want the interviewee to be Spiderman, because… Lots of reasons, actually.” You sigh, thinking about how to put it into words. “First of all, most signs point towards him being young, like, around our age. He’s part of the digital native generation so he probably has different and potentially more complex views on social media and how it affects his job than the old farts and defrosted chickens in the Avengers. We could also assume he’s very media conscious, judging by how extremely lowkey his direct presence on the internet is, and yet he has a very unique relationship with the Spiderheads.”

“And who the fuck are those?” Yoongi asks.

Surprisingly, it’s not you, but Jungkook who answers for him. “His fans.”

“Please, not you, too,” Yoongi sighs, looking at Jungkook in horror.

The younger boy is very quick to shake his head. Vehemently. “Nah, nah, it’s not like that, I’m just very. . . uh, chronically online, you know.”

“You might wanna fix that, then.”

“Also,” you butt in. If you’ve started explaining, you want to finish explaining. Men, and their short attention span, God. “He just seems like a genuinely nice guy, you know? Other superheroes tend to end up in all sorts of scandals, and despite being high-profile and being around for years now, Spiderman’s slate is spotty clean. So he either has a killer PR team or he’s really just, like, a really nice and responsible guy, y’know? But it makes him a bit. . . well, impersonal when it comes down to it. I don’t wanna do an exposé or anything like that, of course, but I think people would like hearing his thoughts on stuff.”

“And you have the hots for him.” Yoongi adds.

Jungkook squeaks, and your hands shoot out to smack Yoongi on the chest. It’s a reflex, at this point.

“I do not have the hots for him,” you protest.

“Jesus Christ, how did I not realise,” Yoongi bemoans. “You so wanna fuck him, you samaritan-sexual freak.”

“You say that like being attracted to good people is a bad thing,” you hiss.

“Okay, here we go.” Yoongi points at you with his stylus. “Fuck, marry, kill: Hulk in Hulk form, Gordon Ramsey, Spiderman.”

“Dude, that’s so rigged!” you object.

“That’s what you get.” Yoongi shrugs.

“Kill Gordon Ramsey, fuck Hulk Hulk, marry Spiderman.” You give in, listing them on your fingers. “Obviously.”

“Knew you were a monster fucker. Freak,” Yoongi says delightedly. You hit him in the chest again, but he pays you no mind — probably has a dent in the shape of your fist on his chest at this point to soften the blows — as he turns to Jungkook. “Okay, let’s move on. Jungkook. Fuck, marry, kill: Megan thee Stallion, Rihanna, and ___.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend with wide eyes, cheeks already aflame a deep scarlet as he anxiously chews on his now soggy paper straw. 

“C’mon, Gigi, don’t tease him,” you scold him.

“What?” Yoongi protest. “It’s a good line up.”

“Ignore him, Jungkook.”

“— could give us an adequate answer to that, right, Mr. Jeon?” Professor Hendersson’s voice breaks through your little bubble as the rest of the heads in the auditorium turn towards your little trio in the back in unison. 

Uh oh. Busted.

Jungkook gapes a little as his eyes flit between the presentation and his blank notebook, swallowing nervously before clearing his throat. “Um. . .” 

“You might wanna answer him, though.” Yoongi mutters. Utterly, utterly unhelpful. 

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

Hari’s playlist of 5 Seconds of Summer — a nostalgia mix, strictly made up of their first three albums’ repertoire — is blaring through your student apartment. 

Sitting in front of the mirror in your room, you can hear them singing along in the living room as Hari carefully braids Piper’s hair, and you have to stifle a smile during their terribly off-key high notes as you perfect your eyeliner. 

Half an hour ago, all three of your cell phones pinged in unison while watching Love Island on the couch as Seokjin messaged the big communal group chat a simple, ‘seoulite @ 9? who in?’ and a quick follow up of ‘reply or like this at least if you coming fuckers’. 

Which brings you to the current scene: quickly getting ready as you wait for Taehyung and Jimin to pick you guys up since they live in the same off-campus student apartment complex you do, and Taehyung doesn’t drink, but drives. (Like a maniac, really. He drives as if he did drink.)

The quickly getting ready part elongated a little bit somewhere between Hana settling on the green corduroy flares and you brushing your teeth as your phones lit up with a short additional message in the thread. 

Jungkookie [20:34]: me too ^^

To his credit, Jungkook is a pretty faithful lecture-goer, and due to some cosmic coincidence, semester after semester, you guys end up in almost all of the same classes, so you, who is enrolled in the same programme he is, cannot complain about a lack of Jungkook in your life. 

That cannot be said about the others, though. Piper, for one, is pretty fond of complaining about a severe Jungkook deficiency. 

To put it fairly, Jungkook is not the most. . . reliable guy you know. Lacks a little bit of consistency. Too scatter-minded. 

Because sometimes, the man cannot be shaken off for days on end even with some super high-tech Stark Industries scraper (for the hyperbole to work properly, please imagine that they’re producing handy tools instead of, like, weaponry). 

Then, there’s the other times, the admittedly much more frequent times, when there’s just simply no sight or sign of Jungkook until he conveniently decides to pop up out of the blue again. 

But to be honest, it’s the dynamic your little group always had since forming. 

The first time it happened, you were worried, though. Mostly because the two of you were partnered up for a group project that was rapidly coming up all the while you couldn’t get a hold of this guy you’ve known for like three weeks at that point, but the worry, of course, extended to his person, as well. 

Although, after some time, seeing how nonchalant Jimin and Taehyung — friends who have known Jungkook since the dawn of time and are thick as thieves with him — are when faced with worries over Jungkook’s where- and howabouts (‘He’s just home tending to his aunt,’ / ‘He had to travel for the Stark Internship, happens sometimes’ / ‘He sprained his ankle in the gym, no biggie’ / ‘He’s probably helping out his aunt at their restaurant for the week,’ / ‘He just travelled back to Korea for Chuseok with his family to visit relatives,’ / ‘He’s fostering a stray cat, can’t leave her alone,’ and such) you decided there’s surely no reason for you to sweat about it too much.

(And anyways, Jungkook made it up to you tenfold for that one instance. He showed up to your dorm one night with two bags of takeout from their family restaurant — amazing jajangmyeon — and braved through the assignment with you in one sitting on your shitty, spring mattress. Volunteered to hold the Q&A segment following your presentation, and stayed over late into the AMs to watch the first two Star Wars prequels with you. It really solidified your budding friendship.)

It’s probably not that easy to be all cool about any of it when you have a big fat fucking crush on the guy, though. Like Piper does, for example.

These past few weeks were also ones that have seen very little of Jungkook, so the excitement bubbling in all three of you at his message is quite understandable — it means all ten of you in the groupchat have RSVP’d Seokjin’s invitation, after all. And it’s been way too long since a get-together with everyone present. 

The levels of excitement only differ where Piper got struck by a desperate need to change into a tighter pair of jeans, put on some highlighters over her eyelids, and braid her blonde hair into something called a waterfall braid.

But it’s okay. After finishing your own makeup and jumping into a looser pair of pants, you gladly join Hari and Piper in the living room to line the latter’s lips with a dark red colour. Her crush is cute. 

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin and Taehyung blast up Hari’s phone with announcements of their arrival and even more messages urging the three of you to make haste. They throw in a few threats of leaving you guys to fend for yourselves in a cab if you’re not down in 10, as well, but after all this time of being friends with them, you know they’re just shooting blanks. 

Grabbing your coats for the chilly September nights, the three of you lock up your apartment and make your way down from the fourth floor, and into the waiting Hyundai by the sidewalk in front of the complex.

“6.34 after the first message.” Taehyung turns to Jimin who’s sitting in the passenger seat as the three of you file into the back. “Chim, can you believe that?”

“Can’t say I do, babe. It has to be a new record.”

“Do you know who edits the Guiness’? I’m gonna call them on the way.”

“Har-har-har, hello to you, too, brothers and in-laws,” Hari chirps, poking a finger through the gap between the seat and the headrest to prick the back of Jimin’s neck with her acrylics. The boy yelps, trying to snatch his younger sister’s hand, but he’s too late. “Nice evening we have here.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice evening, pleasant breeze, picturesque light pollution,” Taehyung drones on, one hand on the steering wheel while he fiddles with the radio with the other. “Let’s get a move on, are you guys ready? Have everything, all in one piece, et cetera? I have serious business to deal with Jungkook.”

“Yeah, we can leave,” you answer him, while Piper pipes up:

“What’s up with Jungkook?”

“Got a new dog,” Jimin supplies.

“And the asshole refuses to send me a picture of him,” Taehyung huffs as he drives out of the parking lot, before pointing a thumb at Jimin. “And this asshole refuses to hack Kookie’s iCloud gallery for me.”

“After all these years, which part of ethical hacking do you still not get?” Jimin sighs.

“What kind of dog did he get?” Piper follows up enthusiastically, and that conversation entertains the three of them for most of the ride. 

(Jungkook got a doberman.)

Sitting by the window on the driver’s side, you drone out their conversation and occupy yourself with the city view and your thoughts.

You’ve washed your sweater. Spiderman’s washing tip has, surprisingly, worked. Which could be a nice opener for the next time you see him. 

It’s been a few days since there was any sighting of him that you could catch, though. 

Two days ago, Reddit was buzzing with a store robbery the vigilante has managed to stop while you slept, and yesterday, you got an alert from a Twitter account you follow called the Spidey-Watch while eating lunch in some burger joint close to campus with Seokjin and Hoseok, but it was on the far edge of Queens and you doubted you’d even get there in time to witness anything. 

But never mind. Ever since you took this on the mission at the beginning of the previous spring semester, there’s one very important lesson you’ve learned: serious journalism requires patience.

And hell, if you’re not the epitome of patience by now. (Yeah, there might’ve been some problems with your inner zen in the past, but you took up yoga over the summer).

Even if just unwittingly, you lose track of the conversation in the car as you drive through Queensboro Bridge, but then a few moments later, it’s the radio playing faintly in the background that inadvertently gets your attention.

The music on the station ends in favour of the 8PM evening news, a female voice with a bit of an irritating intonation covering a few economic and political reportings your brain doesn’t quite retain, before — “. . . so with the disappearance of Amanda Porter, we urge the young population of New York City to be particularly cautious in the upcoming weeks as the number of missing person cases increases all over the city. Especially people in their late teens to early twenties are advised to avoid remote areas and travelling alone at night. The New York Police Department’s Missing Persons Unit has yet release a follow-up statement since their press conference on —”

“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung mutters as he quickly turns the volume down, sharing a concerned look with Jimin from the corner of his eyes.

The rest of the ride over to Queens passes quietly.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The Seoulite is a small, Korean hole-in-the-wall type of bar, except it is not as much of a bar as just the owner, an old woman commonly just called Auntie Aecha’s street-front apartment with a second-hand bar from Ebay dumped into her kitchen in the place of an island, and a couple of tables and chairs scattered around her entrance hall and living room. 

Don’t ask. You’re not quite certain of its legality, either. 

A few things to know about Auntie Aecha:

She’s a compulsive hoarder, and the decoration (or maybe, at this point, with its excessiveness, the lack thereof) proclaims it loudly. The place is packed with rugs, vases, paintings, magazines, lamps, biblical figurines, blankets, pottery and a wide array of trinkets laying around everywhere. 

She has three cats, a dog, and a parrot freely roaming around the place. You’ve never learned their names, but that’s because their names keep changing every time you're here and not because your lack of trying, even when Auntie Aecha, despite her impressive age of 70 and some mystery as she says, doesn’t display any of the typical symptoms that usually come with old age, like forgetfulness. She just simply keeps calling them different fucking names, so you’ve stopped trying to keep up. 

And lastly included in this list that obviously lacks completeness — she’s a self-proclaimed psychic. No other comments on that. 

Namjoon found this place accidentally (distraught from heartbreak, he was trying to go over to Jungkook’s — the only problem with that plan was that this is not the area of Queens Jungkook lives in) last year after getting dumped. 

Ever since Auntie Aecha has personally nursed Namjoon’s broken heart into beating again with imported peach soju, your little group took up frequenting this bar/apartment any time the urge to get together somewhere arose. (And that was only partly because Auntie Aecha gives alcohol to those of you — Piper and Hari — who are twenty-but a little short on-one). 

By the time the five of you get in tonight, everyone else is here, already sitting around your usual table by the decorative fireplace. 

There’s a bit of commotion as they all stand up and everyone tries to greet everyone, before you file back into your seats. Somehow, you end up on the bench seat with Jungkook — even if you distinctly remember seeing him in the armchair, the most coveted seat, by the other side of the table — and shoot Piper an apologetic look as she dejectedly takes a seat on the puff between Namjoon and Hari. 

“Congratulations on becoming a father,” you mutter to Jungkook, playfully elbowing the guy on his side.

He shoots you a confused look, eyes impossibly bigger as he peers down on you. Sitting on the small bench just enough for two people, your shoulder is pressed against his biceps. The material of his large, black hoodie is nice against the bare skin of your arms.

“Don’t look so scared, I meant your dog,” you scoff at him, teeth biting into your bottom lips as you smile. Jungkook’s gaze wanders, and you wiggle your eyebrows, “Unless there’s something else I don’t know about?”

“No, no, no, there’s… there isn’t. No,” he protests, shaking his head as spots of red freckle his cheeks. 

It makes you giggle — Jungkook is rather easy to fluster, despite the many eyes that follow him around hungrily anywhere he goes. As it seems, he’s completely unaware of his own allure, when objectively speaking, Jungkook is one of the prettiest guys you’ve ever met. He has these huge sparkling eyes, an elegant nose, an endearing smile overflowing with teeth, and freckled smooth honey-skin with beauty spots to kill for. And that’s just the outside.

All in all, let’s just say that you’re not entirely blind to what captivates Piper so much. 

“He’s. . . Bam,” he continues. “That’s his name. I. . . um, y’know, found him a few days ago. A stray.”

“You’re sweet, Kook,” you tell him. Seokjin with the help of Hoseok has arrived back at the table with drinks, and places your usual orders — a whiskey coke for you and wheat beer for Jungkook — in front of you guys. You quickly thank them and take a sip, fiddling with the straw as you ask, “Bam. Anything particular behind the name?”

“Yeah. It means ‘night’ in Korean,” Jungkook tells you, reaching for his own drink. “My aunt named him. You, um, you wanna see pictures?”

“Sure.” You nod, and hold your drink out of reach when Jungkook leans a bit into you to fish his cellphone out of his jeans pocket. 

With two fingers, you pick the lemon out of your drink to chew on it — you’re between friends with no one to impress, so if you want to rather unflatteringly suck on the garnish, you will, thank you very much — while you watch from the corner of your eye as Jungkook unlocks his phone and starts scrolling through his gallery.

He freezes, and scrolls up and down for a long moment, before hesitantly handing over his phone to you. “This is, um,” he eloquently mumbles as a description to accomapy the picture. 

You take the phone from Jungkook that’s opened on a selfie of him and a dark brown doberman in bed. The focus is clearly on the dog, given that the picture cuts off somewhere above Jungkook’s chin, and you recognise the location as his bedroom, a few Star Wars and Overwatch posters on the wall in the background giving it away. 

He’s a cute dog, Bam. He looks into the camera, deep dark eyes looking weirdly intelligent, his mouth open and tongue lolling out as he’s laid back against Jungkook’s naked torso. That has abs. Like, a fucking six pack. Wow.

You know Jungkook frequents the gym, he has even accompanied you to your treadmill workouts in preparation of chasing Spiderman from time to time, but in the oversized clothes he always wears, it’s easy to forget he's not actually scrawny. Still, wow. So he has abs. Yeah. Good to know.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, so you make the executive decision to zoom in slightly on the dog as you comment, “He’s really cute, Kook. Bam looks like a smart boy.”

“Yeah, he. . . yup, he really is, very smart.”

“IS THAT BAM??!” 

Suddenly, you have a Taehyung-weighted mass thrown across your lap, and two hands wrenching Jungkook’s phone out of your hold. 

Caught off guard, you let out a yelp as you fall slightly over Jungkook, and you would’ve been about to spill your drink, too, if it weren’t for one of Jungkook’s hands fixing around your wrist, while the other balances both you and Taehyung by wrapping itself around your back. Quick reflexes.

“Hey, shithead!” you snap, slapping a palm over Taehyung’s back.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this cutieful little cinnamon roll from me, dude!” Taehyung cries, zooming in and out of the picture with two fingers like a boomer. “Look at Bamie! So, so adorable, look at his ey— wait. Jungkook Jeon, is this a thirst tra—”

“Tsk, children,” an accented voice chides. “Behave.”

You peek your head out behind Taehyung’s shoulder to beam up at the woman who has walked over to your table. “Auntie!”

Alerted to her presence, Taehyung assumed a position with a degree more of civility (he’s now sitting perched on your legs, back straight and legs thrown over your thighs on one side) looking up at Aecha with a toothy grin, telling her something in Korean.

The woman snorts, retorting in the same language. Jungkook fails and tries to stifle a giggle beside you. 

“I brought you children a little something,” Auntie Aecha says, setting a plate of cookies on the table. 

Another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: though she would never admit it to your faces, too big on that tough love shtick she has going on, it’s an open secret that your ragtag group of ten are her favourite customers.

Expressions of thanks echo around the table as all of you latch onto the cookies, Seokjin standing up to offer his seat, but Aecha denies, “No, no, sit back, sit. I won’t stay to bother you young people for long, this old lady just wanted to say hi.”

“You never bother,” Namjoon says between two bites. “Stay, Auntie, please.”

“You kids are too sweet,” she smiles, patting the boy’s shoulder with ringed fingers. Auntie Aecha has the most exquisite collection, full of emeralds and intricate silverwork, unique enough craftsmanship to match her generally eccentric style. Right now, too, she’s dressed in an elegant white blouse and a long, navy blue skirt covered in detailed patterns and a beaded shawl tied around her waist. 

The conversation picks up around the table again, but Aecha lingers. “___?”

“Yes, Auntie?” 

“Have you had your fortunes read lately?”

You smile at her, breaking off a piece of the cookie in Taehyung’s hand. He looks about ready to protest, if only Auntie Aecha’s presence wasn’t holding him back from whining publically. But he decided he could share your seat, so you might as well share his cookie, right? Simple and fair.

“You know you’re the only one who does me readings,” you tell her. 

Sometimes when the group is fewer in numbers, or when you visit in the afternoon for a cup of coffee, you entertain her charade from time to time. You think it’s rather silly — yes, you live in a world with Scandinavian Gods and purple evil aliens, but no way in hell a random old lady in Queens is, like, an actual psychic. Who tells the future from tarot cards, of all things. Right. . . 

Aecha hums. “Right. . . The Wheel of Fortune. What does it mean?”

You’re unsure whether the question is directed on the card’s meaning in general, or on its possible effect on your life. But regardless, the answer to both scenarios is:

“I don’t know.”

She does that thing. The thing that chills you to the bone sometimes, the thing when her eyes seem to dim, like there’s no sight or soul in them, and her face looks paler for a moment under the lights. She fixes her gaze on you, before it slips over to Jungkook.

You feel his fingers, that are still splattered across your back, tighten as he stares back.

“So soon?” Aecha mutters, then: she snaps out of it. A smile is back on her face, a bit weaker than before, as she says. “Very well, then. I’ll leave you kids to it. There’s a clue in the night, ___.”

And with that, she walks off.

Slowly, Jungkook retracts his hand from your waist, while Taehyung’s head whips around towards the two of you. “So, that was weird as fuck, huh?”

“Right. . .” Jungkook and you both mumble. 

You break a bigger piece off of Taehyung’s cookie, and then break that into halves again before offering one of them to Jungkook. He seems spaced out, but readily accepts it.

That’s another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: she says weird, cryptic shit sometimes. But that’s how you love her.

“‘There’s a clue in the night, ___’,” Taehyung repeats in a deepened, mysterious baritone. He wiggles his fingers in your face, which you promptly swap away. “Any clue what that might mean?”

“None.” You shake your head.

“Anyways.” Taehyung shrugs, picking Jungkook’s phone back up, and giddily scrolling through his gallery. “Let me look at more of these Bam pictures.”

You sigh. You’ve long since stopped whacking your brain to figure out what Auntie Aecha’s off handed comments might mean. They’re usually just similar nonsense.

Suddenly, Taehyung is yanked off your lap just as abruptly as he came, before Yoongi’s fingers latch onto your forearm next. “Bitch, I need you at the table soccer, pronto.”

“And that’s my cue, guys,” you sigh, before standing up.

After ruffling Jungkook’s hair, you step over Taehyung who’s now splattered on the floor, then take one last sip of your drink, and leave it besides Jungkook’s beer on the table. 

He’s the only motherfucker here you can trust not to drink it while you’re away.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The following Thursday evening finds you tucked away in one of the public libraries of Queens, sharing a table with Hoseok who quietly types away on his short story, while you add the finishing touches to your article for next week’s newspaper before sending it over to Namjoon for editing. 

Originally, you guys came over to the neighbourhood because you accompanied Hoseok to pick up these sneakers that he found on Facebook Marketplace, which turned out to be a total scam, unfortunately.

So, in Queens and awfully unaccomplished, the two of you tried to ring up to Jungkook’s (his aunt answered the intercom, Jungkook’s apparently out) and to Namjoon’s (where you guys actually got in, but were promptly kicked out at 6PM because some show Namjoon’s grandmother is obsessed with like a teenager was starting on the telly, and she doesn’t want you kids around to make a rattle) so without any idea of what to do, the two of you decided to retreat to the next best option of a free shelter in Queens, since you’ve already made the commute here. That’s the library. 

“What’s another word for ‘motivating’? As an adjective,” you ask Hoseok, taking a sip of water.

“Duh. ‘Inspiring’,” Hoseok says without even looking up from his laptop. Or stopping typing, for that matter.

“It makes me so happy that you hold my intelligence to such high regards, friend.” You kick his shin under the table, but it does little to deter him. “I meant besides that and ‘encouraging’, obviously.”

“‘Impelling’, ‘propelling’, maybe ‘provoking’ depending on the context,” Hoseok lists like the walking thesaurus he is — the pros of having a friend in the English major.

“Thanksie yousie.”

“Bless you.”

You finish typing up the article, and send it over to Namjoon’s school mail inbox. Without anything to do now, you immediately fall victim to boredom.

Hoseok seems to be in the flow, though, fingers rapidly flying over the keyboard as he mumbles under his breath, so you scroll through your newsfeed for a while — someone won the lottery this week, a politician is under suspicion of tax fraud, wow, who would’ve thought, another disappearance happened in Manhattan, a baby giraffe was born in the zoo, nothing about Spiderman since you’ve last checked — before opening up a Watermelon Game with cat pictures on the web to occupy yourself with for the time being.

Some ten minutes pass with that before the silence is broken again. 

“So how’s the Spiderman thing coming along?” Hoseok asks. 

After combining two large, yawning cats into an even larger, screaming and wet one, you meet his gaze over your computer screens. 

“Steady,” you simply say, and it’s vague enough not to constitute a lie. You let another baby kitten fall from the metaphorical sky. “Why?”

“Yoongi told me about the spider cum on your sweater.”

“Ew, it’s not fuckin—” you shriek, earning yourself a few ‘ssh’s and a dirty look from the librarian. You nod your head in apology with an awkward smile. Bending your laptop’s screen slightly, you lean in closer to hiss, “It’s not fucking spider cum.”

“Think about it,” Hoseok argues. “It’s his bodily fluid.”

“Actually, a few people on the forums think it might be synthetic,” you tell him.

“You’re just gonna have to ask him that, too.”

Humming, you take your phone out to make a quick note of it. That’s actually a pretty relevant question — for science. 

“Yoongi also told me that you left class early to try and catch him again yesterday and just ended up falling into Meadow Lake,” Hoseok continues.

“So why are you asking me then, if you already know everything?”

“I’m just curious. Unlike the others, I do kinda think that you’re gonna get somewhere.” Hoseok shrugs. He continues typing as he adds. “All this embarrassment without some sort of a pay-off? Nah. Karma is kinder than that.”

That’s. . . wow, that was actually pretty nice to hear. Impelling, if you will. 

Even if it was a little — a lot — backhanded. 

“Aww. Hobi. . .” You pout, kicking his leg under the table playfully. “My only fan.”

“Lukewarm supporter,” he corrects. 

“Whatever,” you brush him off. “Actually, nothing much happened besides those. Taking the subway back home drenched and stinking was a humbling experience, but I’m just gonna have to keep going. For the pay-off, like you said.”

Hoseok just hums again, and turns back to his writing, his curiosity seemingly running dry. Whatever.

For the next twenty-something minutes, you occupy yourself by playing round after round of Dress to Impress with Yoongi (later joined by Seokjin and Hari, as well) and you have lots of fun downrating each other’s outfits, so you don’t really accomplish anything. But who cares.

‘ur ootd look like smthng drawn on a deflated balloon lol ugly butt @ yunkiboongi’ you type in the chat, whipping out the lame PG-13 insults in consideration of the fact that, you know, Roblox is for middle schoolers, when Hoseok unceremoniously snaps his laptop shut, standing up from his seat.

“I’m perched. A quick drink at Seoulite before we leave the ‘hood?”

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

After consulting Google Maps, the two of you make the twenty-minute walk through Queens to Aecha’s. Sharing Hoseok’s Airpods, you listen to Epic Sax on repeat on the way, while you try to bring up the topic of Namjoon as subtly as possible.

See, you and Jungkook have a running theory. 

It’s not long — it’s just that Hoseok and Namjoon are in love with each other, possibly secretly dating already (this is the point where you guys usually lose the rest of your friends when trying to get them onto the bandwagon, and to be honest, your faith has wavered at this point too, but then Jungkook raised a good point: for the past six months, you haven’t even seen pictures of these people, let alone meet them, that Namjoon is apparently getting dumped by biweekly. Jungkook thinks keeping up the pretence of Namjoon being an unlucky serial dater is part of their elaborate cover-up plan) so Jungkook and you are trying to get any sort of hint or confirmation on the matter, like the nosey little bitches you two are. 

Whatever. You come up empty. After droning on about Namjoon’s chest, like ‘He has really nice tits, doesn’t he?’ and ‘You kinda just wanna suffocate buried between them, am I right?’, which are not at all subtle, you admit, you come to the conclusion that Hoseok must be either oblivious, a damn good liar, or not in love with Namjoon, which you personally refuse to believe. 

When you round the corner to the street of the Seoulite, the two of you step into the flashing of red and blue police lights in the pitch black night. Confused, you hand the borrowed half of the earbuds back to Hoseok, furrowing your brows as you two keep walking closer.

A smaller crowd has gathered around the block that you know houses the Seoulite, some clearly passersby and others most likely denizens of the neighbouring buildings, clad in their pyjamas and a coat in the evening hours. 

“What the fucks going on?” you croak, grabbing onto the arm of Hoseok’s coat with two fingers as the two of you squeeze into the crowd.

The pavement in front of Auntie Aecha’s door is railed off with a police line, officers moving in and out of her apartment through the opened door. 

No. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

Hari and Jimin were here just this morning. 

A weak rumble befalls the crowd as people whisper to each other, too quiet and too much for you to overhear anything. 

You rummage through your backpack, taking a deep breath before noticing two officers engaged in conversation by the police line.

“Excuse me?” you call out.

One of them turns, sparing you a look over his shoulders, before saying. “Not now, kid. Please wait for the official reports.”

“I’m ___ from NYU Weekly News,” you continue, flashing him the press card you have procured from your bag.

“School paper’s covering crimes now, girl?” The officer sighs, but walks closer to inspect your ID nevertheless.  

“Always did,” you reply. It’s a bit of a stretch. 

The most illegal activity you’ve written about was someone stealing a piano from the music room. Which was a fun one, by the way, because how the fuck do you steal a piano without anyone noticing, and yet. . .

“Okay,” the policeman says, not entirely convinced. “The owner’s kids from Kentucky requested a wellness check. We did it. The apartment shows clear signs of struggle, and the owner couldn’t be reached, so the NYPD is opening a missing person’s case, suspecting kidnapping. And that’s all I can tell you, kid.”

You swallow, grip tightening around Hoseok’s wrists, who has gone just as rigid as you did. 

“Thank you, officer.”

The man nods, and leaves the two of you alone as he walks back to his colleague. 

Hoseok looks at you, expression baffled as he reaches for your hand. His tight hold is welcome. You feel like you’re about to vomit.

“Auntie Aecha’s missing?”

NEXT CHAPTER

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls Chapter 13 part 1/2

masterpost

The next patrol night, Jason’s shoulder was still a little sore from how hard Jack Fenton had pumped it to say goodbye after they’d gone ‘ghost chasing- not hunting!’ in the family van. The van and the family were both growing on him. He was going to really hate it if he had to arrest either of the Fenton kids. It might damage his relationship with Jack and Maddie.

“How was your trip?”

“Might have gotten adopted but I’m not sure why,” Jason said. He shot his grapple and aimed to get a good view of the neighborhood. He winced as it reeled him up. It was a quiet night and cool air buffeted him hard from the side. He didn’t expect trouble. He’d been seen, which was the main deterrent Crime Alley needed at this point. “Did a bit of journalism. Had an impromptu refresher on tactical driving.” He hit boots-first with relief and immediately rolled his shoulder.

“...You’re doing that shitty thing where you make it sound like you’re blowing me off with lies, but then later I find out it was all true and you make some jackass comment about being an honest guy,” Tim diagnosed. He sounded cranky about it, too.

Jason just shrugged. “Did Gotham miss me?” Horns honked in the distance. He looked in that direction on reflex; but no explosion or crash followed. He relaxed again.

“Not even a little bit. But something happened while you were in the air, actually, that might be relevant. Have time to watch?” A little red cursor appeared on the feed inside his helmet.

Jason retracted his grapple and settled in on the ledge like a gargoyle. “Go for it.” He rested his elbows on his knees and crouched. Then he redirected his focus from the real world around him to the little screen that Tim was hijacking.

“Yeah, you’ll like this,” Tim said under his breath. “Just a sec. No theory yet, but check this shit out.”

Jason grimaced preemptively.

The shared screen switched to an Arkham security camera, complete with logo in the bottom right hand corner. It showed a single occupancy low-security cell at night. A man was sleeping in the bed. The quality was crappy enough that Jason doubted he’d be able to identify the prisoner if they looked directly at the camera.

“That Waters?” he checked.

“Sure is.” A button clicked. “Here we go.”

It was hard to tell that the video was playing, aside from the seconds ticking by on the display. Jason resisted the urge to fidget. Tim had selected this part for a reason. Maybe that reason was to be a dick, but probably he was serious.

The screen went black. Then static. Then the feed started wavering across the screen in lines.

“Huh.” Jason lifted his eyebrows. “Not great quality.”

“Reminds me of the quality of Jasmine Fenton’s phone calls,” Tim muttered. “But hold on. It’s hard to see, but-”

Waters was sitting up in one frame. In the next, he was scrambling out of bed and to the floor to prostrate face down in front of absolutely nobody.

He had to make a dry comment. “Wonder why he’s in Arkham.”

Granted, Jason knew the guy was kinda right about the afterworld. But he really wasn’t conveying ‘I am a stable member of society who won’t try any more human sacrifices in a community center rental room.’

Jason squinted. “Does it look like he’s talking to you?”

“Sure does.” Tim sounded frustrated. “No sound, and there’s no chance of reading lips on this even if the angle was better.”

Jason checked the full view of the camera angle again with a sharp eye for any anomalies. Lots of people had special powers that let them go unseen. There was usually some kind of sign, though. A shadow? Something small on the floor that was disturbed? An indication that something moved because someone touched it?

If there was anyone in that room, they didn’t touch anything, and they didn’t stay long. Waters wrenched himself up and threw a fit, hitting the floor and pulling at his hair. Jason watched impassively, waiting to see how long it took for something to happen.

“Response time isn’t too bad,” he remarked. Two orderlies appeared outside of the cell and began trying to talk Waters down.

“Over two minutes,” Tim said judgmentally.

Jason rolled his eyes, because he lived in the real fucking world where that was a short amount of time to notice and reach a cell at night. On the screen, Waters started to respond to whatever was being said. He uncurled from his ball on the floor. He gradually got up. He nodded a few times. The rest of the clip seemed utterly unremarkable and Jason had to assume they were only watching it to be certain they were thorough.

When it was finally over Jason leaned back and contemplated the night sky. “You think that Jasmine Fenton is connected?” he had to ask.

“She did look up when his cell transfer would be and this happened half a day later, the last night before he got moved. I can’t think of how she’d be connected, unless you believe- well.” Tim cleared his throat. “I looked up the Fentons. They say they’re, uh.” He sounded embarrassed just to say it.

Jason could have cut in at any time with ‘ectobiologists?’ Instead, he sat back and enjoyed how uncomfortable his shitty little foster brother was about mad science. Bit rich, coming from the mental breakdown cloning guy. But hey, free schadenfreude source.

Tim sighed so hard it sent static across the feed. Jason turned on the recording function just in time to capture Tim say, “They’re ghost hunters. Ecobiologists. Hey, you sack of-”

Jason ended the recording. “Imma trim that,” he muttered to himself, and saved the file where Tim couldn’t access it. “Gonna be my ringtone for you,” he lied cheerfully. He could think of much better uses for ‘they’re ghost hunters.’

But in the interest of fairness-

“They’re not ghost hunters,” Jason clarified. “They’re ghost chasers, now. Like storm chasers.”

“Wow,” Tim muttered. “I’ll take that note down for my diary.

Jason stood up and ignored the sarcasm. “You’re theorizing that there might have been a ghost in that cell?”

[yandere-paramour]

"I want him dead."

"You don't understand, Noelle," Ata's voice hardened, startling Noelle into a barely imperceptible flinch. She had heard Ata's anger many times but had never been on the receiving end of it. As pathetic as it was, she couldn't help but become a little child again, trying to look contrite enough to escape a slap because she had done something as unforgivable as to spill her milk or miss a question on her homework.

"I don't just want him ruined. I want him dead," Atalanta hissed, hands twitching like she was barely restraining them from hitting someone. Had she ever hit someone before? Perhaps in training or a playful punch on the arm between friends, but not real. Never real.

"I-I understand, Ms. Montclair. I will contact him immediately," Noelle hated herself for the momentary tremor in her voice. Pull yourself together. You're not a child.

Noelle left the office without another word, needing to escape Atalanta's oppressive atmosphere. Her eyes momentarily found the small bowl of chocolate truffles on her desk. This week was dark chocolate cappuccino, a particular favorite of hers. She ached to pop one in her mouth, to feel the cloying sweetness and bitter coffee envelop her tongue, but that was for later. She had work to do now.

Noelle pulled out the unmarked cell phone from the locked box under the hidden compartment of her desk. There was only one contact, and unless there was an emergency, he would pick up within the first three rings. Atalanta was a particularly important client; whatever inane business he did whenever Atalanta and Noelle weren't in the room was irrelevant. Atalanta had more than enough money to draw his attention.

"You've reached Zachariah," The smooth, slow voice answered in its mildly amused tone, "How may I help you today?"

Noelle ignored the joking air, "Civilian, living on Maple Street. We need the camera and laptop and we need to make it look like an accident. 5k."

To his credit, Zachariah cut the bullshit, "Send me the information. I can have it done by the end of the week. Do you want them to suffer?"

"Terribly."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Atalanta put her head on her desk, hands on her knees, and tried in vain to calm down. Poor Darling was distraught; multiple security reports over the last hour have reported her having shut herself up in their room, crying audibly behind the locked door. Noelle had graciously allowed her own precious girlfriend to leave the sanctity of her apartment and go to the penthouse, but it wasn't enough. Atalanta needed to be there.

She grit her teeth, furious. Atalanta had been an important subject of the local paparazzi since her birth but this was different. This was Darling. Atalanta had promised that life with her would be comfortable and luxurious, and now your personal information is leaked. And not just your personal information, your body.

Your lovely body. Only Ata was supposed to behold you, and only in the comfort of your marital bed, but that bastard snuck into your changing room and caught you topless, and then had the gall to send threats, promising to release the photos to the world if not for 100k in unmarked bills. Atalanta ground her perfect teeth.

You were hers.

Hers.

Simply sending a goon to smash his camera and laptop wasn't enough. Plucking out his eyes wasn't enough. Even cutting off his filthy dick wasn't enough.

For the crime of making you cry, he needed to die.

Atalanta tried to calm down and breathe. Zachariah could handle it. He would handle it. She had no doubt about that; the man was a professional. The problem was that Atalanta wanted to... assist. Usually, she preferred to keep her hands clean, to distance herself from whatever boundaries of calamity Zachariah allowed from his men, but your purity was compromised here, your personhood.

Atalanta had seen the white, viscous liquid splattered on the photos of the demand letter. Disgusting.

But Ata knows she doesn't have the stomach for torture, and the death needed to look like something common like a car accident or heart attack. As much as she wanted to carve the Montclair name into his revolting flesh, there were things that mattered more than direct revenge.

You mattered more than that.

Atalanta swept her few things into her bag and called you. You picked up on the second ring, her perfect Darling girl. Your melodious voice might not have been sobbing, but she could sense the hitch in your voice, could hear the way you sniffled pitifully.

"It's all taken care of, my love. It's okay," Atalanta put back on her suit jacket and fixed her hair, "I'm coming home right now. I'll run you a bath and we can order in from that Thai place you like. It's okay."

You must have garbled something about feeling scared.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," Ata cooed, "I'm leaving right now. Hold on for ten more minutes. I'll take care of you. Let me take care of you."

Atalanta marched out of her office, calling orders. As soon as Noelle finished her task and called the car around, she could leave. Any important business that couldn't wait until morning could be emailed.

Bodyguards naturally fell into their flanks as Ata hurried from the building. The driver greeted her but she paid him no mind, and he got the picture. As the car began to move, Atalanta bit her lip, willing time to pass faster. An idea brewing, she texted Noelle to stop by the bakery on 5th before it closes. Three caramelized apple tarts with cinnamon vanilla drizzles, and drop them at the penthouse on the way home.

Don't worry, Darling. Ata's coming. She'll fix it. Don't worry.

[andre-and-cal]

Cal and Andre’s last minutes on Earth,,

Calvin had flashed a quick glance to the school’s security camera shortly after the police began to show up to Iroquois High School. On the camera footage, Cal looks like he’s saying, Look at our beautiful disaster, with his highly ominous deadpan. His grandiosity kind of fueled his “playfulness” toward his victims.

Gathering in an area in the library, both boys were satisfied with the amount of victims who got hit and had suffered the impact of their bullets. But now Andre was prepared to leave through the school’s emergency exit to his car, so that he and Cal could flee the school together and go across the country to hide out. Andre was blatantly ignoring the dispatcher on a student he shot and killed— Omar’s— cell phone. Because the only people that mattered, especially today, were him and Cal.

During the massacre, he realized that him and Cal probably weren’t going to be able to reach other schools. To Andre, it was rather unrealistic to expect that they were going to be able to tackle that aspect of Zero Day, so he just settled on the assumption that he and Cal would just be hiding out somewhere else in the United States, or even Mexico, as Andre had mentioned before a while ago.

He brought it up to Cal, seeing as he’d been looking forward to running away with him. But what he didn’t know was that Cal has had different plans for a while now. In a nutshell, Cal’s response to Andre not only consisted of explaining how they get would shot and killed by the cops if they tried to take off, but he also somewhat coerced him into agreeing. But Andre’s acceptance to committing suicide was very dubious. After all, Andre had never necessarily felt suicidal. And he definitely didn’t want to die after Zero Day; he felt that he and Cal were so high up above humanity, that they’d done the best thing in the world.

And in some ways, Andre was afraid of dying, too. Afraid of turning the gun on himself.

But they’d already achieved their end goal, which was perpetrating Zero Day, and Calvin no longer sought to live after this day. He wanted Andre to be with him in death. He didn’t want to go alone. Because he’d never wanted to die alone, too. That’s what kept him alive up till Zero Day. He needed him, and he knew how much Andre needed him too. They wouldn’t have shot up their school if they didn’t. But Cal, too, was very aware of how Andre was afraid of death.

Finally kneeling down beside each other, Andre had his hand on Cal’s knee for a bit of comfort, and he kept on stalling and interrupting the countdown. Still, Cal was able to reassure him and eventually got Andre to give him a “yes”.

In the last 5 seconds before they died, Cal was thinking to himself about how relieved he felt that he and Andre were dying together. They’d planned this for practically a year, and the bastards they’d shot got what they fucking deserved, in his eyes. But Andre was worrying quite a bit. After all, where would he and Cal go? Would they suffer in purgatory or appear in Gehinnom because they did such a thing?

However, they still pulled the trigger nearly at the same time as one another. But Andre wanted to hear Cal pull the trigger first; he needed confirmation that he couldn’t back out of killing himself now. He couldn’t imagine a world where Cal was far beyond his reach. So the moment Andre heard Cal’s carbine go off, he pointed the barrel of his shotgun at himself and pulled the trigger.

Neither of them really felt pain when they blew themselves away. They went out so quickly that even if they did feel pain, they would only feel it for a split second. Their deaths were quite messy though.

The blood that had previously circulated through their heads, the fragments of brain matter, and the shards of their craniums ended up mixing together following the splatter of their skulls on the wall and on the floor.

They’ll always be 2 bullets in a single chamber.

Where they end is where everybody else begins.

[tempfrangit]

Imagine working at a pub that Johnny owns, it’s got a nostalgic feel but the best security system you’ve ever had to learn. He’s a good boss, chill, lets you pick up shifts and calls you his bonnie lass. If a patron’s heckling you, he’ll step in, all smiles and teeth as he glares them down. He’s so fun and he’s hot, but you don’t wanna date him because he’s your boss —you like your job but it’s temporary. You don’t know what you’ll do next but you’ve been thinking of moving. You end up sleeping with him.

When he’s away, he calls the pub and generally it’s a 50/50 if you answer, if it’s busy hell no but it’s been a little slow. You pick up the phone to Johnny and laugh, ask why he called the pub instead of your cell.

“Because then I can’t watch you, bonnie,” you can hear his grin in his voice, his laugh, but you look back up to the camera

Oh

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Two strangers, not strangers

Only lacking the knowing

So willing, feeling

Infinite growing

While we're here, the whole world is turning

We should be, one, fulfilling the yearning

You can see inside me, will you come inside me

Do you wanna ride, inside my love"

Trina Broussard— "Inside my Love"

A.N.: Content Warning. Smut ahead. Grown folks only. 18+.

Celeste's left hand jerked out wildly to flip on the light switch inside her home. The cottage lit up with a bright pink glow from her vintage stained-glass Tiffany lamps. Her legs were still wrapped around Terry's hips. She climbed down his tree-trunk body and stepped aside, letting him swagger past the threshold of her home. A black baby grand piano that belonged to a deceased aunt had bags of feathers, beads, unfinished patches, and sequins strewn all across it, making the front of the place look messy and disheveled.

"I'll just move these into the other room where they belong," she said.

Terry looked past her into the living room. A smirk crinkled his lips. Celeste looked over her shoulder.

"Oh my, God. I'm so sorry that you see that…give me a second…"

She hurried past him to pick up the ten-inch dildo left in the middle of the floor with the camera set up.

"I know this looks weird…shit…shit…" she sputtered, frantically pulling up the dildo that released with a loud suction pop from the wooden floor. She gathered up the bottle of lube, pillows and dumped them into her sewing room.

Terry took a seat on the recliner end of her purple leather sectional that took up most of the space in the living room right after the baby grand. He watched her pick up the pillows and a sheet, tossing them into her bedroom. She walked back out with her hands on top of her head, embarrassed beyond measure.

"That looked bad…I know."

"Well, you're single now. Looks like you planned a fun night for yourself," he said.

The playfulness of his voice relaxed her, and she pointed toward her kitchen.

"I'll make us those hot drinks," she said, grabbing his bag of leftover food and scampering off.

"Take your time," he called out.

Celeste put his food in the fridge and pulled out a container of half and half. She rested her hands on the kitchen sink and closed her eyes. The shame! She browbeat her own self for not straightening out the living room before she left. Of course, she hadn't planned on inviting him over. Time to save face.

She poured water into a stainless steel percolator and opened a tin of chicory coffee from Café Du Monde, then poured a measured scoop into the coffee filter. After it started bubbling, she grabbed two coffee mugs from her cupboard and prepared their drinks with half and half and a couple of sugar cubes.

"Get it together…pretend the dildo never happened," she whispered to herself before carrying the mugs out into the living room.

She set their coffee down on two coasters and sat demurely next to him. Her locs flowed over her shoulders, giving her a regal appearance.

"Your home is very eclectic…feels cozy too," he said, surveying her taste in vibrant, colorful decorations.

She filled her walls with Mardi Gras feathers and personal beadwork that she mounted on frames, along with pictures of mid-century carnival second lines and jazz funerals. There were whimsical art nouveau pieces from specialty shops around town she purchased of stain-glassed butterflies and Black fairies. French doors that led to the small courtyard out back stayed hidden behind saffron double-laced drapes that her grandmother made for her.

She jumped up and dimmed the setting on the lamp lights. Her purse sat on top of the baby grand. She checked the front door lock to make sure it was secure.

"Your phone kept buzzing in your purse," he said.

He'd lifted his coffee mug and puckered his lips to blow the hot steam away from the drink. Celeste rummaged through her purse and pulled out her cell. Mercy and Nae Nae had both responded to the group text she sent out. She ran her fingertip across the keypad, letting them know he was in her home having coffee. Three green chat bubbles danced on the screen as Mercy typed back something.

YOU BROUGHT THAT MAN HOME WITH YOU?!

Celeste glanced at Terry who sipped his drink and surveyed the surroundings like it was a museum installation. Her artsy style always impressed visitors, especially with the limited space a cottage afforded her. She typed a quick message back.

I'LL LET Y'ALL KNOW HOW THINGS GO IN CASE I NEED THE CAVALRY!

Celeste carried her silenced phone back to the couch and placed it on a side table. She joined Terry and savored the coffee after a pleasant outing.

"This is very good. A nice way to end the evening with you," he said.

She fretted in her seat, wondering how to salvage the poor impression she made on him. He reached over and stroked her arm.

"Are you still thinking about the sex toy on the floor?"

Celeste's head slumped forward, and he laughed again, the rich baritone filling up her home and taking the tension out of her shoulders. Those emerald eyes worked their magic again like they did in the restaurant, driving her to spill out her life in intimate ways she'd never do with anyone else on a first date.

"I can explain—"

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

She tucked a thick loc behind one ear and left his side for a second and retrieved the plantation pictures from her refrigerator.

Handing them to Terry, she sat next to him again.

"One day I want to buy a home like these. I've been saving money and working two jobs for the last two years. On top of my sewing and hustling extra money, I ventured into online fetish content. I have pretty feet, so…I created a website on a BDSM platform to sell explicit pictures and videos. I filmed my first video tonight…right before you called me out for dinner."

"Okay…is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need a director?"

Celeste cackled and threw a hand over her mouth, and Terry grinned, looking at her legs. He lifted her left foot and tugged at her modest heel.

"I want to see these pretty feet men are paying to see," he teased.

She brushed at his hand, but he already pulled the heel off. He gently massaged her toes through the thigh-high, sheer black stockings and his touch shot ticklish sparks up her leg.

"You stand on your feet all day…working hard to achieve your dream. I'd never judge you for doing something that helps you do that. I think it's sexy. You do have attractive feet, by the way…"

He stared at her foot as he kept kneading out the day through his fingers and she leaned back in the sectional to give him more room to work. She even kicked off the other shoe, and he worked on that tired foot, too.

"You deserve the world, Celeste Profitt," he said.

He kissed each toe of her left foot and inched his soft lips to her ankle and further along her leg until he stopped above the kneecap, just at the junction where the stocking and her uncovered skin met.

"Is this okay?" he asked, waiting for permission to continue.

"Yesss," she hissed, bewitched by those eyes that transformed into something dangerous…predatory.

Was this how the devil tricked Eve inside the Garden of Eden? Not by ripe red apples or promises of wisdom, but jade jewels for eyes that blazed with seduction. His lids nearly closed to mere slits, and the blood in her veins chilled at how viper-like he looked arched across her leg.

The cautious voice of Celeste's cousin rattled in her ear with his warning from the night on Bourbon Street.

"Uh uh…no ma'am. Leave that one alone."

Dangerous.

Sinful.

Unholy.

Her eyes blurred. She looked at Terry as if she'd plunged under water and the liquid distorted her vision. His canine teeth seemed sharper than she remembered them being. He slid his tongue across them and she blinked, thinking the pink lighting in her home played tricks on her.

"Terry…"

He slithered his lips onto her lower inner thigh and pushed her dress up to her hips, revealing her thong underwear. Licking her thigh, the moisture from his tongue soaked through the stocking. Celeste stayed still, afraid to break the spell he had over her.

"May I keep going?" he asked.

"Please," she said, with a quiver in her voice.

He gave the crotch of her thong a delicate kiss with his plush lips, moving higher until the tip of his tongue twirled around her clit. The friction from the thong combined with the pressure of his tongue on her sensitive jewel arched her back high. She palmed his head with both hands, hoping to tether herself. Her vulva swelled with juicy arousal and her inner labia puffed with engorgement. He hooked a finger and slid her thong aside.

"Here is the real meal," he hummed, pushing his mouth into her vulva.

His tongue traced invisible sigils of circular shapes and Celeste watched her pussy slicken his mouth until it glistened with her wetness. He slathered her labia with saliva and dragged his wide, hot tongue along her inner thigh. She yelped when she felt a nip from his teeth on her flesh and then a sharp numbness flooded that area, removing the sting of pain.

He licked her vulva again before feasting on her clit, sucking it with a dexterous mouth that never stopped tasting, teasing, and licking every inch of her pussy.

"You taste so good…the blood…your pussy…so good…" he hummed into her flesh.

Her skin aflame, Celeste let all the exquisite sensations flow through her body. She needed this. Needed this man. Needed his mouth. His tongue. His rough teeth…

Another quick stinging sensation pricked her thigh again, and Terry took his time sucking on that spot and fingering her clit. He plucked at the responsive bud.

"Terry!" she cried out, unable to endure the pleasure of his mouth on her thigh and his fingers playing a symphony on her clit at the same time.

The palm of his huge hand pushed her back down and held her in place.

"Do. Not. Move."

The stern tone forced her into submission. She wanted to obey. Badly. His tongue and lips became savage instruments on her pussy. He pushed her legs back, and she held them for him while he ripped her thong into shreds yanking them off. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling as she noticed the feeling of intoxication taking over her body. It was like being high on exceptional weed or rolling on high-grade ecstasy. Their shadows mingled above her, performing their own sexual dance separate from them.

Terry rose above her, and she could clearly see the heavy erection bulging through his pants. She whimpered at the sight. His shit was big. Gold help her. He lowered his face and kissed her, the taste of her pussy and chicory coffee delicious in her own mouth. She licked her wetness from his lips and he held still to enjoy her tongue's affectionate ministrations.

He maneuvered himself comfortably in the recliner and tugged on her dress.

"Take this off for me," he said. "I want to feel you against me."

Celeste stood and pulled her dress over her head. It tangled in her hair and she fussed with the long locs until she became free, standing before him in her bra and stockings.

"It should be illegal for you to be this sexy," he said, his eyes lifting up and down her shapely physique like an elevator.

He zeroed in on her vulva and licked his lips again.

Celeste unhooked her bra from the back and let it slip down to the floor. Her breasts looked tantalizing in the pink lighting. Terry palmed their fullness and pushed them together. He gently pinched both nipples until they stood like dark cinnamon hard candies. Delectable and sugary sweet.

He engulfed the left nipple and sucked on it, causing it to grow stiffer and more sensitive. She moaned and tilted her head back. The pleasure of his licking and sucking increased her lust for him. She stroked the waves in his hair and he pushed his face between her breasts. Her fullness pleased him because he groaned and spoke her name into her chest, the warm air from his mouth arousing her to a fever pitch. Her pussy throbbed, and he continued sucking and fondling until her legs quaked. She thought she would faint in his arms.

"Beautiful breasts, heavy the way I like them…should I cum on them now, or later?" he asked.

"Later," she said with a breathy moan, wanting to keep him there longer to stretch out her pleasure.

He turned her around and stood. Pushing her locs aside, he kissed the back of her neck and trailed a methodical line down her spine with his tongue, waking up every nerve ending on her back. She whimpered and allowed herself to stay focused on every part of her body that he catered to, like he was priming her for something extraordinary.

He sat on the sectional again and kissed each of her ass cheeks. Afterward, he struck each one with a fully open palm.

"The recoil is crazy," he said.

She turned to face him and lowered her lips for another languid kiss, pleased that every part of her body excited him. Her locs shrouded him in a curtain of thick coiling ropes, reminding her of Medusa trapping an unsuspecting victim who stumbled into her lair. His tranquil eyes stopped her from making contact with his lips. They stared at her in wonder, and she recognized a kindred spirit within them. Yes, there in the center of his pupils, reflected back to her, was a yearning for something more in the world. A longing for another soul to banish the loneliness with true companionship. He was the only legacy of his family, a widower with just an elderly grandmother to care for. Her eyes welled up, and he brushed away her tears with his thumb.

"Why are you crying, beautiful Celeste?"

"I want what you want."

He wrenched his eyes away.

"And what do you think I want?" he asked.

"Someone for yourself. Just like me. When was the last time you had anyone in your life…for a relationship?"

His eyes snapped shut, and he tilted his neck.

"Long enough that I don't care to remember."

"But you want that, right? A chance to have someone of your own again?"

An inner struggle flashed behind those emerald eyes.

"Maybe this was a mistake. I should leave before this goes any further," he said.

"Please…don't leave. I like you and I want you here with me."

He stroked her cheek and pushed his fingers into her locs, tangling them until his hand became lost in the thick forest of hair.

"I like you too…you sweet, sexy…vulnerable woman."

"Vulnerable?"

She rose, and he didn't let go of her hair.

"Your heart is so open…so wide open…and pure. People sense that, and you attract them like a beacon of light in a shadowy world. You can't even see what a safe harbor you are for others. It's why you have so many friends and why so many people gravitate to you…want to be near you."

"Except for people I want to be with," she said, thinking of all the boyfriends she pinned her hopes on over the last five years.

"The one made for you just hasn't arrived yet. You must be patient. Steadfast."

"Maybe you're the one for me."

He pressed the side of his face against her breasts and rested there. She rubbed his hair and hummed a soft, made-up tune until he stood abruptly.

"Terry…don't…don't go," she pleaded.

Her tone kept him from stepping further from her grasp. She threw her arms around his waist and refused to let him go. He circled his arms around her shoulders and they stayed in that position for a long time, listening to each other breathe. Her heart beat out an anxious rhythm and she couldn't stop trembling, fearful he would still walk out on her. He gave her peace. Pleasure. A hope for something better.

"I want you to stay."

Those words must've been the magic key to get him functioning again. Lowering his lips, he kissed her, and his arms instinctively relaxed around her, as if they were always meant to be there.

She pulled away and held both his hands, leading him to her bedroom. Feeling confident in her choice for the night, she lit the large gold votive candles on both of her low, bed-side tables to create a romantic ambiance. She thanked Jesus that she made her bed up after breakfast that morning. The room was in less disarray than the living room. Without trepidation, she unbuttoned his dress shirt and gasped when she revealed the gift that was his chest. The chiseled abdominal V lines looked unreal and she glanced at his eyes to show him how much she appreciated the effort he made to keep his body tight.

Terry slowly pulled off his shirted and kicked off his shoes while Celeste unfastened his leather belt. The thin gold buckle had an intricate square design, and as she unzipped his slacks, he grabbed the back of her neck and smashed his lips against hers, sealing the deal in her bedroom. His tongue snaked into her mouth with such force that she gasped for breath, putting a pause on further actions until she could touch his clothing without her fingers shaking.

A corner of her mind buzzed with a subtle warning, but the rest of her brain worked on autopilot. She might never see this man again, but she was going to enjoy him for as long as he was in her presence. He slipped his pants and underwear down, wiggling his legs free. She helped slide his black dress socks off and willingly dropped to her knees as he gripped his dick and stroked it.

In the candlelight, the girth and length went beyond what she imagined, and the color was also a darker shade with the engorgement of blood. His balls hung like fat, round fruit with a thick, dark brown seam down the middle. His erection had a slightly upward curve and the wide head showed a slit already dripping with pre-cum. Her clit twitched at the sight and she moaned when her pussy throbbed deep within her walls. She touched her vulva and the glossy natural lubrication there caused Terry's nostrils to flair. He sniffed the air and his eyes latched onto hers.

"You want me?" he asked.

"I do."

"Show me."

Celeste gripped the weight of his dick in her hand. Hot, thick, and ready, the veins crossing the sides pulsed and the entire thing felt alive. He thrust the head inside her eager mouth, stuffing it so full of hard dick that she choked on it, gagging until she pulled it out to adjust her ability to handle all of it. He grasped a few of her locs by the root and held her head steady, pushing his erection down her throat again. The gawking sounds she created with his face fucking seemed so shameless in her bedroom. Saliva dripped down her chin and dropped onto her breasts and he pinched one of her nipples to keep her focused on deep-throating him.

She pushed a hand against his stomach to control the depth, and that didn't stop him from fucking her mouth into submission. This is what she wanted. She held her hands against his rock-hard thighs and worked her neck to the best of her abilities. He threw his head back to bark out her name in a heated rush of sound and fury. She took that tiny respite to lick her tongue across the veins on his dick and lifted it so she could tend to his balls. Licking down the seam, she opened her mouth wide to suck on each sack, paying close attention to how sensitive he was between his legs. He accepted her skillful licks on the underside of his dick as she worked her way back to the bulbous tip. She let it sit on her lips and stared up at him.

He reached for her waist before he released any cum, his breath full of heavy pants and moans barely articulating her name clearly. Terry lifted her up, and she locked her legs around his hips again. He crawled onto the bed, carrying her with his dick wedged between her slick folds that spread against his length.

Their shadows mirrored their movement as he dropped her onto the firm mattress, covered in a fluffy orange and pink blanket. Celeste kept her hands draped around his neck. Their lips joined, and they shared slow, deep kisses that had her mouth watering like a river and her pussy constantly throbbing, yearning to be stretched and filled. He reached down to her clit and fingered her slowly. While kissing, her mind spun into a funnel of euphoria. Every stroke on her clit from his thick fingers forced delirious pants from her into his craven mouth.

"Would you like to cum on my fingers, Celeste?" he purred in her ear, dipping his tongue in and out. He licked the shell of her ear and moaned her name like a sacred mantra.

Words failed her as she murmured indecipherable sounds. Two of his fingers dipped lower and plunged into a molten pussy that squelched with his tender, shallow thrusts.

"Tight pussy…" he moaned.

In the candlelight of her bedroom, his eyes shined with an eroticism she didn't know could exist. Every breath she took stayed in synch with his, as if he were orchestrating a love-conquering like some forbidden dark lothario sneaking into a young maiden's boudoir. Her upper half rose from the bed as he fingered her pussy with such care that she couldn't see straight anymore.

"That's a good girl…I love how you squeeze around my fingers like that. Deeper? Is that what you want, my love? Oh, yes…you know how to take it deep…"

He removed his fingers to taste her wetness, and a weak mewling sound fell from her lips. It turned into pitiful whimpering as he returned those thick digits to the center of her being, digging deeper and deeper. Whipping her head back and forth, Celeste couldn't contain the surge of pleasure that coursed under the dermis of her skin and not just the top layer. Whatever he was doing crept into a deeper part of her carnal need. He tapped into something primal.

"Cum for me, Celeste. I want to see you break apart on my fingers. Can you do that for me? Look how beautiful you look jumping on this bed…just for me."

Hunched over her writhing frame, he kept his gorgeous face three inches away from hers and the lustful scrutiny in his eyes burst a damn within her. She broke down and begged for an orgasm.

"Make me cum, Terry! Ohmigod…I can't take any more—"

"Yes, you can. You're a big girl…you can take whatever…I…give…you."

His index and middle finger tapped against her walls, and his thumb rubbed hard circles into her clit. Celeste's eyes rolled back and her body jerked on the bed. Her pussy spasmed all around his fingers.

"Terry!" she wailed.

He pushed his lips against her mouth and swallowed the shouting she couldn't contain. A full body shudder took over, and he talked her through that too, his baritone becoming a lullaby of praise.

"That's my good girl. You lasted longer than you thought you could. Look how proud I am of you. See how hard my dick is? See it? All for you. Your beautiful body still shakes and clenches my fingers. You're wonderful, truly wonderful baby…"

He kissed her from the top of her head and all across her breasts. His moist lips gave butterfly kisses down to her belly button and beyond. Celeste didn't think her body would ever stop shaking. He lingered on her pussy, giving her a loving aftercare with his tongue and mouth. His patient touches brought her down from the explosive orgasm, and she drifted into a comfortable, dreamy state of bliss.

"My beautiful queen," he murmured into her thighs.

Bathed in sweat, Celeste glimpsed the flickering of her shadow on the ceiling from the candlelight. She blinked sweat from her eyes.

Why did it look like her shadow was the only one up there?

She rose onto her elbows, trying to understand what kind of optical illusion she was witnessing, but Terry hooked her attention away from the lone shadow and cuddled with her on the bed.

"I loved watching your face as you came," he said.

Feeling shy and unable to think of anything to say, she rubbed on his bicep and looked at the star and crescent tattoo.

"Are you Muslim?" she said, tracing her index finger under the crescent.

"No."

"But this is a Muslim tattoo."

"It's not. This is actually an old symbol for the sun and the moon. It represents the balance of power that comes from those heavenly bodies."

"Masculine and feminine energy."

"Not exactly, but that is a cool interpretation."

"It's shaped like New Orleans…this crescent is the mighty Mississippi River…the sharp bend in the water that curves around my city like a smile that says bon matin when the sun comes up and…what is that?"

She pointed to the glint of pale iridescent ink that wasn't visible with the naked eye until another form of light struck it above the eight-pointed star. Here, it was the candles on the nightstands. The tattoo turned into a fully closed circle with the star in the center.

"I had a clever tattoo artist experimenting with new ink," he said.

"As above, so below," she said, touching the top part of the circle. "Or…night and day."

She kissed the star on his bicep and studied the features of his face.

"Can you stay with me all night, Terry?"

"I will stay for as long as you want."

She smiled and lifted herself so that she could look directly into his eyes.

"I want to make love with you. I want to feel you inside of me so deep that I cry," she said, her lips trembling with emotion.

He brushed back the hair from her shoulder and rubbed on her hip.

"I will give you everything you want. Ask and you shall receive," he said.

His lips didn't move, but she heard his voice in her head clearly. Succinctly.

"Give me what I want," she said, lying back on the bed.

Terry wasted no time hooking her legs over his arms and settling between her thighs.

"I love how the brown gives way to the delicate pink," he said.

The tip of his dick pressed against her labia, parting them, revealing the inner flesh the color of pink cotton candy surrounded by the chocolaty brown of her vulva. Celeste glanced over at her nightstand drawer, knowing there were condoms inside. In her heightened state, prophylactics were the last thing she cared about. She didn't even ask Terry if he carried any. It didn't matter. Her body floated on a current of biological urges that she couldn't control. The quiet part of her mind latched on to the brown plastic baby on top of the nightstand that she nearly swallowed eating the King Cake two nights ago. Protect your womb. She ignored the warning.

"Look at me, Celeste," he said.

She turned her head and luxuriated in the feel of him holding her. This she would remember as the before time with him, the small window of opportunity to escape that she squandered because of the overpowering persona Terry presented to her. She caved into her libido.

Unprotected heart.

Unprotected sex.

Unprotected soul.

"Say yes," he said above her, those sensual eyes piercing her psyche.

"Yes—"

The world slowed to a crawl.

Terry pushed into her depths and she accepted all of his thickness as a blessing. She clawed at his back and watched the lone shadow dance across her ceiling as tears pricked her eyes and coursed down her cheeks.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened…and I will give you rest," she murmured to her shadow above, not knowing why that passage in the bible slipped from her mouth.

With each stroke Terry gave her, the shape of his dick tugged on her clit, causing Celeste to cry out to God, emphasizing the ecstasy she experienced. Their union shattered any perception she had of what lovemaking could be.

His mouth stayed buried in neck, sucking on it and speaking life into the delirious flesh that submitted to his will. Her bed squeaked and bounced with the headboard smacking the wall so hard she thought for sure they would crash out onto the street.

He leaned back to watch his dick plunge in and out, the ramrod brown parting her labia that fit around him like a second skin for his erection. Her pussy turned into a magician, making that dick disappear and re-appear shinier than her mama's polished silver. The hard heat of it kept her panting and clinging to his arms. Every part of her body, from a single follicle on her scalp to the callous on the bottom of her right foot, felt the rapturous gratification. Full body orgasms washed across her in steady waves until it reached a feverish pitch. Terry sensed the coming explosion and flipped her over onto her stomach. He straddled her thighs, hunkered down, and pounded her pussy. The loud smacks of their bodies colliding added to the intense carnality. He held her neck down, but she could still look back at him with glossy brown eyes that pleaded for him to never stop.

"Fuck me!" she yelled.

Terry's brows furrowed while putting his back into it, and perspiration dripped from his forehead, landing on her back. She could feel it rolling down to the crack of her ass and mingling with her own sweat. Awareness of all sensations grew tenfold. Even his grunts created vibrations she could feel across her skin.

"Celeste!" he roared, bucking harder against her ass, stretching her pussy wide open.

The sound of her name fell onto the back of her neck and burrowed into the raging skin like the tactile sensations of a finger stroking it. Their fucking was outrageous. She reveled in it. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and he kissed her, keeping his stroke game going.

"You feel so good…all around my dick…make me feel you more, baby…I'll give you what you need any time you want it. Hear me? Shit! Right there, right there, right there…lemme hit that spot deeper right there…so fucking tight on this dick!"

She twisted on her side slightly so that he could still see the side of her ass, as well as her breasts. He volleyed those wondrous eyes on her ass and face, not wanting to miss any action on either one. He grabbed a fistful of locs and used them like reins to slow his gyrating thrusts. Agonizingly slow, Terry rolled his hips and varied his hard pumps from deep to shallow, driving her to the edge.

Eyes locked, he spoke five devastating words.

"Can I cum inside you?"

His body moved with sinuous elegance, rocking into her with a heat on the verge of losing control. She clenched her walls around him and he groaned, his lips forming a startled "O" shape. His head fell back, and Celeste watched sensual pleasure twitch every muscle in his cheeks and forehead. He had the face of an angel, and she seared that image of him in her brain forever.

"Lemme cum inside you…please…lemme cum…."

"I want you to cum."

"Tell me…"

"I want you to cum inside me."

"Say it again."

His eyes trapped her. She would do anything he said. Follow him anywhere. Give him anything.

"Cum inside your pussy," she begged.

"All this is mine?"

He tugged on her locs harder.

"Yours…all yours…"

He pushed her left leg over until she was back in missionary. Twining both legs around his hips, she gasped at the friction of her clit brushing against his wiry pubic hairs that were soaked by her wetness. He was so deep inside of her that her stomach moved with each thrust.

"You belong to me now. Do you understand this?"

In the hazy glow of their lovemaking, Celeste nodded. He palmed her breast and fondled it.

"All of this belongs to me. No harm shall come to you as long as you belong to me…"

His words sounded more like an incantation than love talk. She squeezed her pussy to show she had love magic, too.

"Damn, Celeste, I'm 'bout to bust…I can't hold back…"

"Cum for me…please…take this pussy…oh…shit!"

She let go.

Her climax started behind her eyes, watching him seize up and cum, his semen spilling into her, hot and fast, coating her walls, filling her to the brim. Her pussy throbbed, milking his dick, and they both watched the lower part of his erection pulse as it pushed out an elixir that would doom her future.

"Fucckkk!" he shrieked, falling forward and covering her with his big, heavy body.

She held him tight, delighting in every after-climax shiver and shake his body made because of her. Her own body quivered with aftershocks, too.

"You are incredible. I was not expecting all that," he said, falling away from her, panting and rubbing sweat on his chest.

She snuggled against his side and he pulled her in close, both needing to feel their warmth and sweat co-mingling. Unfortunately, her bladder called for attention and she crept away to pee.

Inside her bathroom, she giggled at her reflection in the mirror. Her nipples were still hard and her pussy kept twitching, missing the feel of his dick stuffing it full. This was going to be a problem. Sex that good could become dangerously addictive.

Her face took on a somber expression, thinking about not using a condom. She quickly opened her sink cabinet and pulled out a small box of Plan B. She ripped the box open, popped the pill in her mouth, and used sink water to wash it down. A trip to the clinic would be in order to check for STDs. She was too grown at twenty-seven to be moving ass backwards with her sexual health.

How many times had she told younger cousins to use protection at all times?

Hypocrite.

Celeste grabbed a clean wash cloth from the wall shelf above the toilet and gave herself a quick PTA cleaning. She padded back to her bedroom and lost her breath looking at the fine man lying on his side under the covers waiting for her.

"Hey beautiful," he said, lifting the blanket for her to join him.

Celeste wasted no time climbing in beside her favorite lover.

He spooned around her backside and she noticed something peculiar before she blew out the candles. There were two shadows back on the ceiling again. Hers. And his.

Chapter 7 HERE.

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[punprincess321]

So... why didn't Bruce just lobby for Joker to get executed? Like you’re telling me this man doesn't have the cajones to kill the man that killed his son (he couldn't because Joker had diplomatic immunity but in recent years he just subscribed to "I'd be as bad as him if i did") but he couldn’t just... I don't know... USE HIS VAST WEALTH AND INFLUENCE TO GET HIM A SEAT IN THE ELECTRIC CHAIR!? Like if you're not gonna do it yourself, I get it, Batman should not be seen killing, but Bruce Wayne can absolutely be seen lobbying for Gotham's judicial system to give Joker the death penalty. Joker has never ONCE shown signs of improvement unlike the rest of the rogues gallery, he is fully aware of what he is doing, yes he's insane but he legit takes pleasure in the chaos he creates, there's no saving that, at this point he doesn’t even deserve the chair, he deserves to be held down and have a car battery clamped to his nipples. This fight between batman and joker doesn't end until one of them is dead and joker legit went to work at the DMV after batman died, there’s no saving joker while batman is alive.

"But he could break out with the help of his goons!" Bruce could use his wealth to pay them all off, every petty criminal and goon for hire gets a nice cash gift if they turn joker down, get lawyers that Joker threatened top notch security, HE HAS THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ON SPEED DIAL! If Joker was getting executed, Bruce would absolutely get Clark and Diana to personally escort the clown to the exection room, both are wearing heavily armored gasproof suits so he doesn't try anything funny with joker venom or kryptonite or anything else.

"What about Harley?"

Do this when she is in a 100% hates joker mood, keep her with Ivy and her doctors and more security, I say flash because he's a nice guy who wouldn't taunt her and rile her up to save joker. Don't let the path to the execution room go by where she is, one look and she could be back under his spell.

"Oh in this comic they tried to execute him and it failed" okay I wanna see that and tell me where it went wrong, and if killing him STILL doesn't work, then make LIFE hell for him. If killing joker still doesn't work here's my pitch for what to do with him:

Lock him away from everyone, lock him in a secure painfully beige house, he eats nothing with color just potatoes, well done steak, eggs, onions, milk, water, bread, and beans, his only utensil is his hands, no paper, no glass, no plastic, no metal, nothing to be used as a weapon, he just gets food put straight onto the table and he eats it with his hands, he has to drink using those fancy water bombs made with seaweed. Every product he has access to is 100% natural, no chemicals he can use to make his laughing gas to poison the guards, all he gets to watch is the news and documentaries about stuff like how taxes were thought up or who invented sliced bread. He speaks to no one, no phone calls or human interaction, his only entertainment is tv which he can only watch through a window of 12 inch thick glass and the speakers can't be reached to mess with, all chairs and tables are built into the floor. The house receives routine maintenance to make sure nothing is loose or messed with, he's knocked out for each inspection with a lot of knockout gas, all security cameras are hidden so he doesn'tfeel the satisfaction of knowing people are watching him. He doesn't get to see batman either, his one reason to live is messing with batman and he doesn't get to do that. Everyone is just hoping he gets depressed and drowns himself in the bathtub.

Like I am seriously wanting one of these to happen, either Bruce walks up to Jason with passes to watch the execution or hands him security footage of joker crying in his boring cell as a birthday present and a big apology for not handling this asshole in so long.

AND FOR ALL YOU THAT WILL SAY "You can't permanently off the most popular batman villain!" I DIDN'T SAY THIS WAS PERMANENT! I WOULD JUST LIKE TO SEE THAT THERE IS A UNIVERSE WHERE BRUCE MADE UP WITH JASON BY GETTING RID OF THE JOKER AND NO CONSEQUENCES! And don't say "he did it for superman to prevent the injustice timeline once" that ain't what I'm talking about, I'm saying he does this for JASON. HIS SON.

I'm taking this shit seriously if you can't tell. If you want to add something I missed in either plan go ahead, I am basically wait for the day I get sucked into the DC universe and I can tell all this straight to Bruce's face and I need it perfect.

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 3

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Minors DNI.

Summary: You are an old acquaintance of Rebecca Wilson. She calls in a favor to help the BAU out of a financial debacle. This also means that the current CIA employed Reader has to consult with the BAU to make this work, and not just on paper. This has to be official, which means working with a disgruntled Section Chief Emily Prentiss. A lot.

First time writing like this, so any feedback is appreciated!

AO3

Chapter 2

Word Count: 3k

GIF by aaronhotchstuff-archive

Chapter 3 - Welcome to the BAU

You roll over on the twin mattress at the sound of the chime notification on your phone. You force your eyes open, blinking them to focus on the digital clock and saw it is barely pass 5 AM.

“Wha’ th’ fuc’ …” you grumble, flailing a hand around for your cell. On the third pat, you slide it off the nightstand and flip it over. Seeing that the text was from Brian, it wakes you up enough to lean on an elbow to read the message.

Dad sent 0504 – Langley 0900

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and yawn before responding.

Whitlock sent 0511 – k

Brian must have everything ready for you to begin working with the BAU and wants to personally see you off. Or lecture you about the whole ordeal once again.

Probably both.

You set your alarm for 0700 and roll back over to get some more sleep. It was too early to worry about all of that now.

Brian was running late so you were shown to his office to wait. This happens often when you’re here since he is the director of the CIA and being pulled in countless directions.

You casually stroll around the room taking note of anything new. It was well over a year after all and there had to be something noteworthy to check out. You saw the same framed weathered American Flag hanging on the wall behind his desk, a staple of the position of CIA Director.  As you move around his desk the three monitors were locked, the screen shifting from TOP SECRET to the CIA and the DOJ seals. All so sterile per usual.

You push some files out of the way to get a better look at the pictures on his desk. One was Brian and his wife Carolyn on a recent fishing trip holding a catfish together on the dock. It had been raining, their jackets and hats streaked with raindrops. The weather didn’t stop the bright smiles they shared from dampening. An immortalized look of pure love despite the gloomy weather. You fight against a long-buried need that rarely blossoms and convince yourself it’s only because you miss your mother figure. It had been much longer since you shared any real space with her.

Going on over two years now, you think, but it was hard to pinpoint the exact time. It could have been even longer.

You tear your eyes away and swallow down the yearning, wanting to distance yourself from darker memories that were surfacing, but you were drawn to a partially covered picture of a younger Brian. Pushing aside the file on top of it, your eyes widen with surprise to see it was you and the four other trainees that were personally recruited by him. You gently stroke the younger faces of your brothers and sister before tapping against your own barely teen face. While everyone was looking to the camera, you had decided to be an ass and look off to the side at the lead doctor in the program. Your mouth was wide open as if you were going to take a bite out of Dr. G-.  

“Already snooping, huh?”

You look up and see Brian lingering in the doorway to his own office, watching as you were rifling through his desk. The CIA Director’s desk. If you were anyone else, he would have security throw you out immediately.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you quickly say.

“Then what does it look like?” he challenges, you now noticing how raspy his voice was.

Thinking back on this morning, Brian was probably in a meeting when he texted you. Only someone who knew him well enough, like yourself, could tell he was tired. His tailored black suit was wrinkled making it day two of wearing it, and his tie was crooked. It had been awhile since Brian put a comb through his salt and pepper hair. His usually well-groomed tapered look was flat and messy.

Definitely a national security situation going on … course, when isn’t there?

You slip the picture free and show him as answer to his question. “Was checking out the new memories but found an old one.”

He hums with understanding and closes the door for privacy. “Heard anything from them?”

“A text here and there. The usual.”

“Good,” he says with a nod, liking that answer. He holds his hand out and you reach over the desk to give him the picture. “Perhaps after this little detour with the BAU I can arrange a get together.”

Your grin comes fast, heart pounding with the excitement of a reunion. “Really?”

“Really. But first…” He joins you behind the desk and pulls out the top right drawer taking out a lanyard and wallet that had your FBI credentials. “… you have work to do. Prentiss is meeting you at Quantico at 11.”

You take the badge by the lanyard and dangle it in front of you. It was strange seeing your picture and signature with a different agency after all these years. You start feeling like you’re cheating on the CIA.

“Sounds good.” You take the wallet and tuck it inside the inner pocket of your suede jacket. “But to be honest? She so doesn’t like me.”

“And how is this news? Now, scoot.” Brian waves you away so he can sit down and carefully puts the picture back on his desk. “Look, you bring a lot of experience to the BAU, and under normal circumstances, you’d easily be scooped up with a proper transfer. This is anything but. Just,” he leans back and gestures with a curled hand trying to find the words, “… keep your head down, listen to orders and for the love of God, don’t be a smartass.”

You shuffle out of the way, slipping the lanyard over your head to join the CIA one already resting against your chest. “Way too late for that. I was an exceptional smartass when we first met. Just, not entirely on purpose.”

“Of course you were,” he sighs with an exhaustion from your years of antics. “Just … please don’t start a war between the CIA and FBI, huh?”

“Wow!” Aghast, you hold a hand against your chest. “And you think I’m dramatic?”

But you quickly drop your frivolous act to lean against Brian’s desk, tone growing serious while you cross your arms. “Hey, I know how important this is. Not just for the BAU but for you, too.”

You gently push at his knee with one of your own and his expression softens with the truth of your words. “I won’t let you down.”

Emily stands in front of the round table with the assembled team. She had just informed everyone of their new consultant.

“So, we have a new member of the BAU.” JJ nods while digesting this new information. “From … the CIA.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar at all,” laughs Luke, eying Prentiss.

She squints and purses her lips to hide how apprehensive the situation was truly making her. “This is only temporary until we find Sicarius,” Emily reminds them.

“What do we really know about her?” Rossi asks, looking towards Garcia. “You really haven’t given us much.”

“That’s because there isn’t much,” Garcia answers with an overexaggerated pronunciation of the last word. She scowls, pointing at the screen with the details you had given Emily. “And that is like less than much. I should have all the deets but this woman’s file is buried so deep we’d probably find Jimmy Hoffa’s body first.”

Clearly Garcia was still bothered by the situation.

“That’s a little extreme, Penelope,” Emily interjects with a tolerant voice, but her eyes narrowed pointedly at the tech guru to tread carefully.

“It’s still weird,” she sniped.

“Look, Rebecca vouches for her,” Tara said in her girlfriend’s defense. “She wouldn’t pair us up with someone she thought would hurt the BAU. Her reputation’s on the line with the DOJ if this goes sideways.”

Rossi hums in agreement. “There’s little gain in helping us. Be easier to stand on the sidelines.”

“But she’s not. And she was so quick to help us, let alone finding help.” JJ looks at Tara coyly. “Just how tight are you two with this relationship of yours? You must owe her big time.”

Luke grins and leans closer with rapt attention, while Penelope perks up straight on her chair with greedy eyes, both wanting the gossip.

Emily holds up her hands in frustration, needing to bring this back on topic before it unravels into Tara’s sex life. “Guys! Focus. We have a serial killer network out there that’s coordinating their effects to not only commit murder, but to help each other do it better. And if we don’t take Sicarius down before Bailey’s domestic terrorist unit does, the BAU’s disbanded.”

Her direct and gravelly tone silenced the group. She was relieved when they had the decency to look ashamed as the weight of her words brought a reality check.

Rossi agrees with Prentiss and looks expectant. “What’s the plan?”

“Whitlock will be working with me.” She checks her watch. “And she’ll be here soon.” As Emily looks back up, she gently shakes her head to slide the loose hair off her shoulder and catches Bailey walking into the bullpen.

Just fucking great…

“Rossi, I need you to coordinate with Garcia informing local law enforcement to retrieve these foot lockers quietly. I don’t want the network getting a hint of our operations for as long as possible.”

Thankfully Penelope’s quick work in deciphering the anonymous information sent to her was able to determine where all the foot lockers were hidden. It was time to collect.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Penelope salutes which makes Prentiss sigh.

“Luke and JJ, you’ll head to one of the sites and look for anything that might gives a better understanding of who we’re looking for. Rossi, you get to choose which one.”

“Understood.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” her eyes lock with Bailey’s, who finally found where his section chief was hiding out and looks livid. “I see our deputy director wants to speak with me.”

Luke winces as he dares to see what mood Bailey was in, “Have fun.”

JJ and Tara offer up sad waves while Penelope puts on a sickening smile with two thumbs up. Dave was kind enough to say nothing, but that smirk of his said it all.

Emily leaves the team, hearing them strategizing before the door closes and strides confidently up to her boss, feigning ignorance. “Deputy Director Bailey. What can I help you with?”

“I’ve been informed by the Attorney General that you’ve brought on a consultant.” His eyes were so belittling that Prentiss wishes she could punch him.

“That’s correct.”

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this decision?”

“Things had to move fast. Wilson spoke to Davis on my behalf, presented a reasonable case for Whitlock signing on –“

“You can drop the act, Prentiss. I’ve already seen the paperwork from the CIA’s office regarding the stipend.”

The corners of her mouth turn downward, waiting for him to continue. His expectant look made her realize he was waiting for her to explain herself. She unfolds her fingers from where they rest in front of her to gesture vaguely. “And?”

He took a step back and blinks with confusion. Bailey wasn’t ready for that response. “This should have gone through me first. Wilson was way out of line going right to Davis.”

“I’m confused Deputy Director.” Emily leans closer and lowers her voice. “The decision for Whitlock to use her stipend like this was her call. I approved it. As did the CIA. The only issue was making it legal on paper. The AG figured out a way and Wilson wrote it up. How would telling you sooner change the process?”

She pauses for dramatic effect. “Unless…”

Emily squints her eyes and shakes her head condescendingly. “… unless you’d put a stop to the process, it never reaching Davis’s desk in the first place.”

Bailey’s eyes waver from the intensity of Emily’s brown ones and swallows hard at being read so easily. But what did he expect from a high ranking profiler?

Okay, fuck it. Catching him off guard like this is actually nice.

Not that she’d admit that to you.

“I know it’ll take a few days for the BAU’s budget to reflect this, but please make sure that there’s enough money set aside to expedite the forensics on the bodies. We have a lot of people needing closure.” With a sure smile, she brushes past the still silent Bailey.

But then she stops and turns around with a confident swagger. “And if I’m not mistaken, there’s enough money left over to authorize the use of our jet again.”

Without waiting for Bailey’s response, she turns on her heels and heads straight for the elevators. She could feel the animosity radiating from him but there was nothing Bailey could do about it. The deal was done.

And now it was time to make good on the other part of the deal. Meeting up with you.

After your goodbye with Brian, you drove to a bakeshop on the way to Quantico to pick up a box of mixed donuts and macarons to feed your new teammates. And use as a possible bribe for Prentiss to maybe tolerate your presence just a teeny bit.

You flash your new FBI badge at the check-in desk, and your information was immediately verified in the system. Next you have your Glock checked as you passed through security, the officer confirming your credentials in carrying. You slip the gun back in your hip holster while balancing the box of goodies with your non-dominant hand and start walking down the hall to the elevators.

You offer a hello and polite nod in return when other personnel acknowledge you. Many didn’t even notice you were there, too busy with their heads down looking at their phones or chattering away endlessly on projects that could be talked about freely in this area.

It was starting to feel real and overwhelming being in a new area that knew nothing about you. Yeah, most of the CIA weren’t entirely aware of you and what you did but Langley was home. Familiar. Comforting. Hell, it was your actual home. Every time you were in between work and stateside your living space was a safehouse. All your personal effects were locked up in storage as you never stayed long enough to unpack. The SUV you drove wasn’t even yours. It was on loan from the CIA.

Your steps slow as thoughts begin to spiral: Should you get a place? If so, how long would the lease need to be for? You’re signed on for six months, but that is on a contingent basis in case the BAU needs you longer or when you catch Sicarius.

Sure Prentiss’ll be happy to kick me to the curb then … you muse. You wonder if she can tolerate you more than the few hours you’ve had the pleasure of conversing.

So, do you get a six month lease? Furnished or unfurnished unit? Stay at the sterile safehouse? What if the group wants to know you? See your place? Do things outside of work? Be … social. You’re good in the short term with a performance of being the you the government has taught you to be, but anything more than that has been reserved for Brian and the other trainees that were siblings to you. Even Rebecca didn’t know the real you; just a small scratch under the surface of the carefully constructed control to keep yourself buried.

Fuck. Get it together. This is just day one. Pay homage to the team with goodies and see what Prentiss wants you working on. Just be the amazing smartass agent that everyone knows you are. One step at a time.

At some point during your runaway thoughts, you pressed the button for the elevator. Your curious eyes kept getting a lay of the area while waiting – emergency exits, conference rooms for visitors that didn’t have clearance to go up any higher, security cameras, armed guards, who was coming and going.

Then the elevator chimes that it arrives. You face forward as the doors open and as fates would have it, there was Section Chief Emily Prentiss, who was just as shocked as you were that you ran into each other like this.

“Hey! Fancy meeting you here.” You flash a cheeky smile, finding this funny.

“Uh, yeah.’ Emily recovers quickly and holds the door open for you, so it doesn’t close. She looks you up and down, stopping briefly at the box you held before meeting your eyes without cracking a smile. “I was coming down to meet you. You got through security quick.”

“Thanks.” You take a moment to sweep her features and admit to yourself that the section chief cuts a flattering look in a black blouse and slacks. She’s elegantly professional.

You step inside to join her and hit number six for your floor. As you were going over what to say to break the deafening silence between you, you were surprised that Prentiss spoke up first.

“Trying to make nice with bringing food?” she questions.

You chuckle. “Damn. Totally called out.”

“It’s a safe go to.”

“Not necessarily.” Your eyes shift to look at Prentiss. “Je ne dirais pas que les macarons jouent la sécurité.”

Emily turns her head, brow raising at the response.

You turn to meet her head on. “Quoi? Je pensais que tu parlais français.”

Your new boss took time to smooth out her features while coming to a decision on how to answer. “Je fais. Mais pourquoi es-tu?”

At that, you smile as the doors to the sixth floor open. “Parce que je ne suis pas la seule à faire ses devoirs sur les personnes avec qui elle travaille.”

With a wink, you exit leaving Prentiss behind to digest the knowledge that you were well aware that the BAU had tried to dig up information on you.

Yeah, one step at a time …

I don't speak French so here is Google translate for you!

“I wouldn’t say macarons are playing it safe.”

“What? I thought you spoke French.”

“I do. But why are you?”

“Because I’m not the only one who does their homework on the people she’s working with.”

Chapter 4

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Twelve

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

SUPRISE, YOU GET TWO CHAPTERS TODAY! Chapter Thirteen is also up! Posted a bit early because I was too excited!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Twelve- The Kidnapping

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!! (let me know if I missed any!)

“It’s been twenty fuckin' minutes!” Velvette kicked at the air. “How much longer do I have to fuckin' wait!?” 

The brat demon’s words echoed throughout the night. Pentagram City waited sixty floors below, V Tower being the tallest building around. The roof and top few floors were newly rebuilt, complete with a penthouse beneath Velvette’s feet and a rooftop designed for entertaining. 

Alastor sat tied to a chair, surrounded by a platform that overlooked three sides of the tower. Velvette had wanted a pool, so she got one, along with a hot tub and a poolside bar. It was designed with Sinstagram in mind. Of course, the layout is aesthetically pleasing for one with a proclivity for photos and videos. It also created a great place to stage a kidnapping with numerous installed cameras - courtesy of Voxtek Technologies - that captured every angle. 

The brat demon was rearing to go the moment she hit send on the video, including a live link to watch the battle about to go down, but what she didn’t expect was for you to take so damn long! 

The demon groaned in his chair.

“Oh, shut it,” Velvette rolled her eyes. Cell phone in hand, the brat had stationed herself in a lounge chair, attempting to appear nonchalant while she waited. At about three minutes passed she double-checked that she actually posted the video.  At about five, she was growing impatient. At ten, she could no longer sit still and took to pacing in her new boots - her outfit was meticulously designed for this fight because, of course, it was. At fifteen, she became angry. At about twenty, she was royally pissed off. 

“How dare I be made to wait!!” She turned to Alastor, beaten and bruised - the demon hung his head, slipping back and forth from consciousness. “You were supposed to be fuckin' valuable! You…!”

“Angel Detected! Angel Detected! Angel Detected! Angel Detected!” Velvette’s notification screen lit up with alerts. 

Voxtek’s Angelic security was now online, and its perimeter expanded out five blocks from V Tower - it was two, but after you attacked, they decided they needed a bit more warning time from incoming threats. 

Quickly, Velvette typed out a text before finding her place before Alastor. The Overlord was ready.

In a cloud of black smoke, you came flying down from above, landing in an explosion of shadow. The smoke curled away from your feet, invading the freshly placed tile of the rooftop. It lopped over the edges, across the pool, even going as far as Velvette’s feet before dissipating. 

The female Vee took a step back, out of reach of your dark magic. Clutching the knife, she pointed it in your direction, “About fuckin’ time! Do you know how long I have been waiting here!?” 

You didn’t respond. 

“Well!?”

You didn’t move, continuing to stare down the Overlord with your glowing yellow eyes. 

Velvette stomped her foot, “You have nothing to say!?” 

More silence. 

The demon stomped forward, her arms balled into fists at her sides. With tears in her eyes, she screamed, “You murdered my best friend and destroyed my home for no fuckin' reason, and you have nothing to say to me!?” 

Silence as the tension was building. Vox’s cameras zoomed in on you as if waiting for an answer. After a long moment, you held your hand up and…

… started violently coughing? 

You bent over at the waist, your hands on your knees as you coughed as hard as you could. 

“Holy shit. I’m… I’m… So sorry.” A voice choked out,, little puffs of black smoke escaped the hood as they talked. “I was holding my breath for as long as I could, but the smoke was… too much!” 

Velvette took a step back, thoroughly confused- that was not the voice she remembered you having. She grabbed her phone and scanned you using the Soul Scanner app Vox downloaded onto it. 

“Lucifer Morningstar,” the lady’s voice read out.

“What!?” She shrieked, taking a step back. The demon flipped to another app and pushed a button. 

There was a shriek from behind her.

Velvette spun to find you collapsed on the ground, nearly out of reach of Alastor’s chair. In your leather gear, your silver hair braided back into a twist that reached halfway down your back, the watch Vox had given you morphed. The metal bit into the flesh of your wrist, hooks preventing it from being removed. The metal contraption had delivered an electric shock so powerful, it dropped you where you stood. 

Velvette’s gaze shot between you and Lucifer, who had since thrown his hood back so he could breathe. 

“Oh, sorry…” Lucifer cringed, eyes red from the smoke.

____________________________________________ 

(20 minutes earlier)

You resisted the urge to smack your face. “Okay, let’s try this one more time. Fire.” You summoned your flame.

“Fire.” Lucifer did the same. 

“Smother.” You clapped your hands together, the flames extinguishing, allowing smoke to pool from between your fingers. 

“Smother.” Lucifer did the same, but instead of a wave of smoke, the King produced merely a trickle. “Hey, I got it!” The Angel beamed, jumping up and down like a proud child.

It had only taken like fifty fucking tries but sure… He did it. 

“Okay,” you huffed. “Now, do that while you're flying and while you’re standing there. I usually always have a little bit milling about for aesthetic purposes, so if you don’t do it, it'll be weird.” 

“Right, and no talking?” He frowned a little.

“No talking.” 

“But I have such good comebacks prepared,” the King pouted. 

“No.” You handed him your cloak. “Keep the hood up; she doesn’t know it’s you, so she won’t be able to see under the cloak at any point in time.”

Lucifer threw the black fabric around his neck, tying the strings together. “You don’t ever suffocate in this?” 

You looked at him dumb. “Smoke is heavy. It naturally wants to flow down and away. Let it do its thing, and you’ll be fine.”

The King pulled the hood up, “And no talking?” He prodded again. 

“The second you open your mouth, Velvette will know it’s not me. Just stay quiet till I can get to Alastor, okay?”

“Fine!” The King whined. 

God, you did not miss his childlike attitude. Okay, moving on, “Angel, what ya’ got for me?”

____________________________________________

(Now)

Move!

You forced yourself to your feet, scrambling for Alastor. While Lucifer distracted Velvette, you were to sneak in from the other direction and attempt to untie Alastor before she noticed. You tried, before you left the safety of your hiding place, to use the connection you fostered with Alastor to somehow send him some of your energy - if that's even how this connection worked. The demon tried something similar with you the day you couldn't eat anything. He came scrambling home and used his magic to calm the bubbles in your chest and infuse your blood with life. It worked then, but it wasn't working now.

Alastor remained slumped forward in the chair, his face unreadable as you tried to reach out. You released a tentacle of magic from your core, but when it slithered over to the Radio Demon, it couldn't feel him. He was still breathing, still moving, but his magic felt absent.

Which terrified you.

If you could just get to him, maybe you could forcefully push some of your magic into him. Actually, you didn’t even need to get that far, you just needed to reach Rolf, you just needed to reach his shadow. 

Mere steps from Alastor, Velvette hit the button on her phone, sending a wave of electricity rocking through your body. You dropped like a stone, hitting the tile with a smack, your cheek cracking open on impact. 

The female Vee spun, preparing to take on Lucifer, but the Angel had fled, leaving your black cloak in a pile on the ground where he once stood. You were on your own. 

“There you are!” She cackled. The female Vee kneeled beside you, your body refusing to move as the electricity slowly ran its course.

Goddammit, the wound on your torso burned.

“Awww,” She pouted. “Little Thestral finally came out to play.”

Fuck. 

“What? Didn’t think we’d figure it out? Ha!” She cackled. “Remember this?” The demon scanned your face with her camera.

The woman’s voice rang out, “Unknown.”

A memory surfaced of you and the remaining Vees battling it out at the base of V Tower. Vox scanned you during the fight, just as he had during your date. Both times, the woman called you “Unknown.”

Vox and Velvette have known it was you for weeks. Vox knew it was you today when he came to visit the Hotel and even when he was getting updates from Charlie. That’s why he wasn’t mad about you disappearing. That’s why he approached you again. He wasn’t apologizing. He was tricking you to get the watch on your wrist. 

The Vees knew and were probably stalking you for weeks. Hence why they’ve been so quiet. They’ve been lying in wait, watching, waiting to see where your weaknesses lie. 

And they found it: Alastor. 

You knew the Radio Demon wasn’t sloppy. He didn’t make mistakes, and he didn’t miss any of the bystanders who saw the fight go down that day. What he wasn’t expecting - what neither of you was expecting - was Velvette and Vox being smart. 

“Fuck you,” you gritted, your jaw stiff and tongue heavy. You spat, temporarily blinding Velvette with spit, and then punched her right in the nose. The demon fell back, blood spraying from her face, as you clumsily attempted to go for Alastor once more.

If you could just touch him… 

“AH!” You jumped as another wave of electricity ran up your arm. Your body went stiff as you collapsed and landed THROUGH Alastor. 

And then the demon DISAPPEARED. 

“Ha, ha!” Velvette cackled, her finger still on the button as you convulsed at her feet. Fuck, your jaw clenched so tightly that a molar cracked. Your eyes threatened to roll back into your head before Velvette finally let you go.

What the fuck was going on?

“Did you like that? My idea, actually.” She clicked a button, and the image of Alastor reappeared next to you.

The demon was in the same position - his head slumped forward, his hair covering his face. He barely moved save for a moan here and there and the occasional rise of his chest to show he was breathing.

“You can’t capture Alastor’s image. He’s made that bloody impossible. So why not re-create him?” 

You noticed the twitch in Alastor’s form then - it was a hologram. No wonder your magic didn't connect with anything. Nothing was there but light manipulated to look like Alastor.

If he wasn't here, then...

“Where is he?” You demanded, your words slurring with the effort it took to move your mouth. The last hit was harder than the one before, compounding on top of the other to create greater damage than one shock could do alone. 

Velvette checked her phone screen, “Dead.” 

You didn’t even humor her with a fake laugh or a dumb look. “Don’t give me the bullshit, Velvette. Where is he?” Life came back to your fingers, their movement stiff and constrained. You forced them to move, hoping it would speed up the process somehow. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Velvette stood.

“Aww, do you really think I’m pretty?” You gritted. 

Velvette considered the thought. “Well, the black dress didn't make me want to barf..."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks..."

Spinning, Velvette called out, “Crim!" 

Wait, Crim?

No one answered.

Velvette looked confused. “Crim!” She called out again, but nothing happened.  

“Where the fuck did he…”

“Change of plans. Sweetheart,” Angel appeared at the edge of the landing above you, a giant piece of metal in hand. It kind of looked like a futuristic looking… bazooka? The spider demon kicked a tied and gagged Crim to the edge of the railing.

Hell, yes.

Velvette jumped back, putting ample space between you. You took the opportunity to force life into your body, attempting to push yourself into a seated position. 

“The bad boys are tied up,” Nifty poked her head out from behind the bar, dragging a shark demon out into the open by his fin. 

“Sorry!” Charlie and Vaggie appeared from behind the hot tub. Characteristically, the Princess apologized as a shark demon fell over, smacking his face against the tile. 

DING! Husk and Pentious appeared in the elevator, kicking three sharks to their knees, guns aimed at the back of their heads - Carmilla Carmine weapons. 

____________________________________________

(15 minutes ago)

“Angel, what ya’ got for me?” You trudged over to the spider demon, who had a hodgepodge of handwritten notes before him. 

“Confirmed with Odette, Velvette ain’t just using Crim as a third party to buy the weapons, she hired ‘em, like you suspected.” Angel ran his hands over his notes as he talked. “But get this, she ain’t just buying guns, she’s goin’ afta big stuff.” 

Angel handed you a paper. “An electric bazooka?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. 

Carmilla never told you about anything like this. 

“Vox apparently hired some of their engineers, been workin' on it for a while.” Angel crossed his arms and leaned back against the bar. "We’re walkin' into a trap." 

“So, we just bluff,” Husk appeared behind the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. 

“What?” You ask, grabbing the whiskey in his hand and trading it for water.

Husk stares you down but ultimately accepts the change without a fight. “Bluff, like in Poker,” He takes a swig. “Play like you got a good hand, even when you got a shit one. Make the other person fold before you lose and take the pot. It’s basic card skills.”

“Huh,” you thought, “that actually might work.”

“Hmm,” Angel pondered. “Ambush the ambush. Sounds kinda hot!”

Husk rolled his eyes. 

“Lucifer!” You yelled. The King jumped, clearly in deep conversation with Vaggie. “I have another idea.”

____________________________________________

(Now)

“Fuck yeah!” Lucifer flew over the edge of the building and dropped a pile of gang members onto the tile roof. “You just got fucked!”

“Dad!” Charlie groaned. “It’s ‘fucked up.” 

“Oh…” He cringed. 

Velvette’s team was surrounded. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before Velvette figured out it wasn’t you beneath the cloak. So, if you somehow got caught while Lucifer was distracting Velvette, he was to sneak away and help Husk fly the rest of the team to the top few floors. Quietly and quickly, they’d take out the Crimson Mafia gang - thus ambushing the ambushers. All while you made it seem like Velvette had you right where she wanted you.

Ignoring the pain in your torso, you pushed yourself to your feet. Your newly healed muscles screamed.

“It was over before it even started, Velvette. Now, where’s Alastor?” You demanded. 

“No!” She screamed. “It isn’t over.” She swiped something on her phone. “I had wanted to take my time killing you, but this will have to do.” 

Fuck, she was going to electrocute you to death. 

“No!” Charlie screamed. 

BOOM! 

In a panic, Angel did what anyone in his position would have done: he aimed the cannon and fired. A ball of electricity, larger than yourself, erupted from the barrel and was headed straight for Velvette. 

BEEP! BUZZ! BEEP! BUZZ! 

The watch around your wrist vibrated. And, because Vox had accounted for this, the projectile changed direction and headed straight for you. You had moments to dodge before it exploded beneath your feet, flinging you backward into the bar. Bottles of alcohol exploded, glass dug into your skin, and wood splintered around you as you smashed through the structure and went rolling toward the edge of the building.

The rooftop plunged into chaos as the Crimson mafia gang took the opportunity to fight back. The world was a blur as you came to a stop, your mind spinning, your body stiff and immovable as your muscles convulsed. You must have bit your tongue because your mouth tasted of iron.  

“Ah!” Velvette screamed. The demon jumped atop you as the sound of bullets filled the air. “Fuckin’ bitch!” She pulled out the knife, preparing to slash your throat. 

But Nifty was faster. The small demon jumped atop Velvette’s hair and pulled. “Bad girl!” She screamed. 

The demon fell off you as the two of them tossled. 

Move! You need to move! You flooded your veins with magic but the fire did not burn life back into your body. 

Fuck. 

Think. Think. Think! If not fire, then… Wait! 

"…shut down the whole grid!" Angel's words echoed in your mind. "All of Pentagram City was plunged into fuckin' darkness!"

If this technology was partially developed by Vox, maybe it had some similarities to his magic system?

An idea popped into your head. One that smelled of rain after a storm. One that felt humid like the deep bayou under a sky of stars. One that tasted of jambalaya and sounded of dirty jazz in a busy dance club…

Digging down deep, you grabbed that connection and pulled. Green static erupted over your skin, loosening your muscles and lessening the convulsions overtaking your body.

It was working! 

You pulled harder, allowing the magic to explode from within you. The static breathed new life into your body, even going as far as stitching your healing muscles into strong fiber throughout your torso. You soon found yourself able to move, your body in even better health than before Velvette gutted you weeks ago. Moving onto your hands and knees, you sucked down a mouthful of air, your body finally your own again. 

Jesus H. Christ, do not get hit by another one of those!

Nifty managed to get ahold of Velvette’s phone and tossed it over the side. 

“No!” The demon crawled to the edge, screaming in vain as the cell phone plunged to the streets below. 

You grabbed the Overlord by the collar of her shirt and lugged her to her feet. Your yellow eyes shined as the green magic enveloped your form. You could see the confusion in Velvette’s eyes, confusion at the control you now had over the magic which didn’t belong to you.

“Tell me or the next thing that drops sixty stories is you,” you could feel the power boiling, Alastor’s magic festering. 

His magic was angry and so were you. 

“You wouldn’t dare, bitch,” Velvette dug her nails into your forearm, her nails piercing your skin where the leather was thinnest.

“Try me,” the magic surged, pulsed as if fueled by the anger. 

At the other end of the line you felt something push back, like a surge of magic calling out to you. While Velvette considered her options, you pushed back and felt something similar to a door open. 

A heart beat. A breath. It was Alastor calling out to you in the same way you had tried to do before you left the Hotel for V Tower. 

He was alive and he was angry. You might not know where he was, but he felt okay physically. Just extremely pissed off. 

Good.

The static boiled, growing in power as a green aura emanated from you. You felt the shadows beneath your feet move, swirling about your ankles in anticipation of the murder you were about to commit. 

“Velvette,” you garnered her attention, your voice almost sounding static-y, “last chance,” you swung her body over the edge, her feet dangling off the roof. 

The fight behind her eyes shifted, “No.” she smiled.

CLICK! 

You didn’t have to turn around to know the barrel end of a gun was pressed to the back of your head. You didn’t have to look to know it was Crim who wielded it.

“Put the boss lady down, gently,” the Mafia Boss commanded. 

The static sizzled across your skin as you felt your demon form break through. Horns grew from your head, a sharp tail uncurled from your backside, and the sclera of your eyes turned red. 

The fangs in your mouth sharpened as you smiled. You had a better idea. 

You tackled Velvette around the middle and jumped. 

You summoned your wings as you fell, but unlike the last time you found yourself falling from this building, you didn’t aim for the cement. Instead, you pulled up at the last second - much to Velvette’s terror - and threw the Overlord onto the ground. Not enough to break anything, but enough to rough her up a bit. 

You needed Velvette alive and put together long enough to give you the information you needed - for now. 

Spinning, you prepared to ascend the Tower to solve your little Crim problem when two large booms echoed throughout the streets. 

Someone had fired two shots, honed in for your bracelet. If you were a gambling Angel you’d put your money on Crim.

Velvette cackled as you took flight, aiming for Heaven’s Clocktower. You watched the two balls of electricity bank as you turned, following you in circles about the plaza. 

Shit, these things could maneuver… but how well? 

You got an idea. 

The Entertainment District had the largest buildings in town and as such you often found yourself flying through what felt like a maze night after night. It was the perfect place to lose the two missiles on your tail. 

The first one was easy to lose. Heading from the Clocktower, you aimed for the first large building you came across. Banking hard right, you cut the turn so sharp your wing brushed the glass of the building. Taking a complete 180• turn, you headed right back for the Clocktower as the first ball exploded into the side of the glass building. 

Shards rained down like acid behind you, showering the streets below. 

The second one wasn’t so easily deterred, almost as if it had learned from the first. It didn’t sit as closely on your tail, and thus had more time to maneuver as you took the turns. 

Soon it became obvious, the thing wasn’t going to quit. Fuck. You were hyperventilating, your face drenched in sweat, your wings cramping with the effort. You hadn’t flown in battle in what…? Since before the Age of Man? Your skit with the Leviathans maybe… at least your torso was holding up. Whatever Alastor’s static had done, it healed you, leaving behind nothing but a scar.

Fuck, what to do what to do!? 

You craned your neck over your wing to catch a glimpse of the ball of blue electricity and that’s when you noticed the trail of green static following you across the sky. The sparks danced over your feathers and dissipated as they fell, like the trail on a shooting star. It was beautiful. 

Alastor’s magic: the one person Vox’s electricity couldn’t take down. 

Shit. Okay. Flight wasn’t working, so maybe it was time for fight. 

You dug across the connection, throwing open the door to find an entire well of magic you didn’t know was there. Yet this magic was warm - familiar. It tasted of rye in your mouth, wrapped you in a cocoon of protection like a small babe… You took hold of this magic and used it to fuel the static drifting off your wings. 

You had one shot at this, better make it count.

You soared skyward, till you were higher than V Tower. Then you fell. You spun so the ball of electricity was in front of you, your back to Pentagram City below. Grabbing hold of Alastor’s magic, you created a ball of magic of your own, composed entirely of Alastor’s static. 

Then you threw it forward. It collided with the ball of blue energy and exploded in the sky, raining down blue and green sparks across Pentagram City below.

“Yes!” You cheered, safely making your way to the ground. You landed on the edge of Cannibal Town and the Entertainment District. 

“Holy shit, that actually worked!” You laughed in disbelief. “Now for this piece of shit.” You concentrated the magic in your wrist and fried the watch. “Fuck you, Vox!” You ripped the watch off, gritting in pain as the hooks sliced through your skin.

The metal fell to the ground with a thud. Alastor’s static concentrated on your wrist, the green dancing across your wound. You watched the skin restitch itself and settle into a set of fresh scars.

Was this Alastor’s doing or some sort of acceleration of your blood’s natural healing abilities? Did Alastor’s magic amplify it somehow?

So many questions… Hopefully Alastor had answers because you didn’t even know where to begin. Sharing his magic…? What did that mean?

“Oh - !” There was a tug behind your navel so strong it knocked you back a step.

What the fuck was that? 

Another tug, this one even stronger. You braced yourself as orange and mint flooded your nostrils. 

The third tug knocked you onto your ass, but it was the feeling the card gave you that finally helped you to understand - Alastor was using his obsidian calling card to summon you and he had used his own blood. 

Which meant two things: 1. Alastor was desperate and 2. You knew where to find him. 

Without so much a second thought you took off heading for the Entertainment District. 

You landed at the base of V Tower the same moment a blur of black and blue went whizzing past you. Briefly, you registered the flying blurb as Vox - no, wait, he wasn’t flying. Vox had been thrown. 

The media demon slammed into a bloodied Velvette, the two of them flying across the cement before coming to a stop in a pile of blood, broken bones, and wire. 

Before you had a chance to register what was happening, a portal opened up about twenty feet away from you. The Hotel team came flooding out, weapons raised, prepared for a fight, but paused at the sight behind you. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Alastor?” You breathed, your entire body going rigid as you turned and…

A body slammed into you, warm and familiar. Alastor threaded his fingers through your hair, the other coming to rest at your back as he pulled you into him. His lips came crashing down on yours before you got a proper look at the demon. 

It took your mind a moment to register that Alastor was kissing you, a moment before you were up on your toes, your arms around his neck, your body melting into him. 

God, he tasted like blood and rye. His scent woeing you in a sea of iron and rain. Alastor was a wall of steel, holding you so fiercely - as if you might disappear in his arms. 

The shadows about his feet danced - Rolf was okay too. 

The demon came up for air, but he didn’t back away. Alastor kept his forehead on yours, his grip tightening around you, as he spoke, “Mon couer.”

My heart.

He didn’t have to say anything more. You understood. You were a perfect mirror image to the things he had been feeling and to the relief you both now expressed.

He was okay. Alastor was okay. 

“What happened?” Was all you could manage to say before your voice broke and the ugly tears fell. “I thought they had you. I thought…”

“Shhhh,” Alastor shushed, using his thumb to wipe away the water from your cheek. “I know.” 

“Velvette was going to…”

“I understand,” he kissed your forehead. 

“I didn’t know what else to do...” You choked. You grabbed onto the lapels of his now destroyed jacket. “Please, Alastor… Don’t leave me.”

The demon smiled softly, your face in his hands, “Never again.”

He embraced you, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you. 

Charlie approached you slowly, hesitant to ruin the moment but also so, so worried. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“Perfectly fine, Princess. Seems Vox found it pertinent to occupy my time in the Doomsday District.”

A memory flashed in your mind…

“Well hello there little pet, where’s your master?”

“Like Hell I would tell you anything!”

“So he’s still making chaos in the Doomsday District then? That answers that question…”

Fucking Vox.

“Is she okay?” Charlie asked. You could hear the emotion in her voice.

The demon smiled into your hair.

Then, Alastor did something that would shock you for years to come, he opened an arm and invited her in. The Princess wrapped her arms around the two of you and soon, so did the rest of the Hotel Natives - minus Lucifer. The King had been standing there dumbfounded the moment Alastor kissed you. 

Wow, he really did not like him. 

“This isn’t over!” Vox yelled. He was bloodied and bruised, as was Velvette who was helping him limp over to your little cuddle fest. 

Alastor had some fun while you were fighting the electricity across Pentagram City.

“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed. The group disbanded, taking a step behind you and the Overlord. “That is where you are wrong, old pal.” 

The Radio Demon persona slammed back into place. He summoned his cane and twirled, before resting his hands atop it. Although he was in complete disarray, there was still an elegance which he held that Vox did not.

You made a mental note of the lack of shark demons coming to the Overlords’ rescue. Crim probably realized they were losing and hightailed it out of there. No worries, you’d pay the imp a visit later…

“Kill them?” You asked Alastor.

Alastor’s eyes lit up in amusement. “Oh, no! No, death is too good for them. The punishment is far more fun if they have to live with their humiliation.” The demon smiled, his lips curling at the edge. 

“So then,” You looked to Alastor for permission. You wanted to show off for him, if he’d let you. “Unplug him?” 

The demon tipped his head back and laughed, “After you, mon couer.”

You took a step forward and summoned Alastor’s magic. Green waves of static licked your form as you dug deep into that well. 

“Hey, Vox,” you smiled. 

The demon stopped, his eyes bouncing from yours to Alastor’s. The demon’s screen glitched. “You're dating him now!?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Vox, we never dated. We went on one date and it was horrible.” 

Another glitch. “What!?” 

“Are you two seriously going to talk about this now?” Velvette groaned. 

“I was miserable. You’re a lousy date.” He was buffering, his screen going staticy as you felt Alastor’s magic reacting to Vox’s weaknesses. 

“And, you’re a terrible kisser,” you smiled. 

Vox shoved off Velvette and took a few wobbly steps forward. You were pretty sure his ankle was broken. “Now listen here, you little…”

“Uh-ah-ah!” You tutted. “I wasn’t done.” You closed the gap, and leaned in to whisper something in Vox’s ear. 

The media demon exploded, his screen shifting from lost signal to his face to static to random colors. He fell backward into Velvette, who barely managed to catch him. 

The cameras around you exploded, light bulbs popped, and storefront windows cracked. 

And soon, the entirety of Pentagram City was plunged into darkness. 

“Rolf,” you summoned the shadow. “Will you please take out the trash?” 

The shadow smiled at you, his horns curling, before he whisked Velvette and a short-circuiting Vox off into the night. 

And it was finally over. 

Alastor came up behind you and ran his hand through the static - it tickled, actually. The demon was absolutely mesmerized. “You are beautiful in red, mon couer,” He cupped your chin, his thumb running across your lower lip. “But green suits you far better than I could have ever imagined.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

“I told him…”

Alastor used his thumb to stop your lips, his eyes darkening. “I know what you said.”

Rolf swirled at your feet. The little snoop was eavesdropping.

Your face turned red. “Vox got a little close on our date. Not my fault that I could feel everything.”

Vox was all over you when he kissed you… It wasn’t for very long, but it was enough to know…

“Is it true?” Alastor’s eyes couldn’t leave your lips, his mind transfixed on their shape, their feel, the way they moved when you talked.

Ha! There’s the narcissist in him.

“Yes, Alastor,” you smirked. “You are much bigger.”

The static pulsed, reacting to the delight spreading across Alastor’s face, but you forced it down, forced the magic back behind its door. Now was not the time nor the place to get carried away. Especially considering you practically leveled a building the last time you and Alastor... got into it.

Actually, now was time for something else - a conversation you were dreading.

“Alastor,” you collected his hand in yours, “I need… I want to tell you everything.” 

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, shall we?” Alastor smiled, holding out his elbow for you to take. 

The demon wasn’t done with your previous conversation. “I want to hear more about what you think of me.” He smirked, his grin lopsided. That look always meant trouble. “And perhaps discover how you look dressed only in my static.”

Jesus… Did you - via standing up to Vox using Alastor’s magic and utterly humiliating the media demon - inadvertently turn Alastor on? You sniffed. Vanilla, Alastor smelled of warm vanilla… Your face was pink before, but now it was bright red.

This was an opportunity you were not going to let slip away. You wrapped your arm in his…

“Mikaela?” Lucifer took a step forward interrupting the moment.  

Your entire body went still. 

“Is that you…?” He asked. Lucifer looked as if someone had murdered a puppy in front of him.

Shit.

Vaggie did a double take, “Wait. Mikaela as in Mikaela Morningstar, the Archangel?”

You looked down. Your arm. Velvette scratched your arm - she cut the rune Stolas drew onto your arm! 

Slowly, you turned to face Lucifer - your brother. The Angel took a few steps forward, his confusion turning to hurt. 

“Mikaela.” He frowned. There was so much sadness reflected in those eyes it made your throat swell with emotion. 

“Lulu, I’m so sorry,” your voice broke. 

“Wait, hold up.” Angel raised an arm. “When yous told me ya were a head honcho in Heaven, I just figured you were an Angel manager or some shit, but the General of God’s armies? That doesn’t make any sense. I thought Michael was a dude?” 

“No,” Charlie stepped in, her face one of disbelief. She’s never technically met any of her father’s family and yet here you were all along. “Humans changed it.”

“Changed it?” Angel shook his head. “How do you fuckin’ change the fact that he is a she!?”

“Humans are patriarchal assholes,” Vaggie butted in, one arm wrapped around Charlie - whether to hold her back or comfort her, you didn’t know. Either way, the Ex-Exorcist was thoroughly irritated. “Can’t handle a woman being in a position of power, not to mention a warrior - the fucking warrior.” 

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Angel agreed. 

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer asked. The King didn’t dare step closer. If anything, he moved in front of Charlie. 

Did he think you were going to hurt her? You would never!

“Dad…” Your voice broke just by saying his name. “... sent me to Earth to take care of something. It went… wrong.” 

Fuck how do you explain!?

“I couldn’t - can’t - go back.” You corrected yourself. Your eyes flit between him and Charlie. “I am not here to hurt her.” Your vision blurred with silent tears. “I would never hurt her, Lulu.” 

Your brother’s face changed, his eyes hardening. He stood at his full height, an arm held out to prevent Charlie from stepping forward or say anything. 

“You can smell deceit.” You both could - family trait. “You know I’m not lying.” 

Lucifer swallowed dryly, but he didn’t say anything. His gaze fell to his feet, the gears behind his eyes turning. He was deciding what to do about you. 

“I had nowhere else to go.” You continued. 

“Dad?” Charlie tested the waters. 

“Don’t, Charlie,” He snapped. “Just don’t.” The Angel, unsure of how exactly to react, how to think, or how to feel about you, turned and started walking away. 

Your heart broke at the sight of him walking down the street alone, abandoning you, just as you abandoned him. You took a step forward to go after him, but Charlie beat you to it. 

“Dad!” She called out as she ran after him. The two of them disappeared around the corner, heading for the Hotel. 

You looked to the group, but their eyes were on Alastor as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “If you’ll excuse us. I believe Mikaela and I have some catching up to do.”

Fuck. 

Husk shot you a look, his eyes asking if he should say something, if he should step in - ever the protective father figure that he was. You shook your head and let Rolf shadow you away. 

____________________________________________

“Are you okay?” The demon asked as you appeared in the Nothing. Pentagram City was a dot in the distance, a glowing presence on the edge of a sea of black dirt. 

You wrapped your arms around your middle, attempting to metaphorically and physically keep yourself together. 

Fuck, you didn’t care about how you were doing. You cared about how Lucifer was doing. The way he just walked away like that… He turned his back on you just as you did him. God, how could you live with yourself? 

“Sit,” Alastor commanded, his voice oddly absent of static. He summoned a chair from the Void and forced you into it, pushing down on your shoulders. 

You were numb - that was the best way to explain it. Your body and feelings were numb. 

Alastor knelt before you, one hand on your knee as he attempted to catch your eye. You couldn’t help but draw a parallel to the memory you shared on the balcony after you were injured. He attempted to comfort you then just as he was now, but the difference was he held so many questions in his gaze. 

No more running. 

“It’s a long story,” you scoffed, still in disbelief. 

Alastor’s face remained neutral, his emotions unreadable. “I have all the time in the world.”

Surprise! You get two chapters today! Go! Go! Go!

-> Link to Chapter Thirteen

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