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mournings-stars · 9 months ago

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little songbird

part 2 (prelude) to my orpheus and eurydice angst fic "doubt comes in" — i'm not entirely certain i'll make this a full fic but if yall like it i might end up adding another part (would still be a prelude since part 1 is technically the end unless anyone requests a spin-off-esque addition)

part 3 (prelude pt. 2) part 4 (prelude pt. 3) part 5/finale (semi-alt ending)

includes: heaven lucifer ofc, a little lore, some blending of greek mythology, i don't think there are any warnings besides fluff and luci is a hopless romantic but also the relationship is ambiguous right now, still dramatic just dramatic greek fluff (also I made angels have golden blush because they have gold blood)

When you first met Lucifer, you’d just finished your duties on Earth and were going to come back to celebrate. As a Virtue, your job was to persuade the seasons into change — you sang a melody you’d taken from nature itself, soaring over the clouds and riding the winds until autumn fell over the world and you went back home until nature needed your persuasive help once more.

But as you were going up, he was coming down. You came face to face, stopping each of you in your tracks.

You’d heard of him, of course; Lucifer, the Morning Star, with his wondrous creations and unattainable dreams, but you never thought you’d see him in person — it always seemed like he was too busy working to ever come down to Earth.

Yet here he was.

You moved out of his way. “Sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”

“No worries at all.” He gave you a very charming smile, making you smile back reflexively. He took off his hat, tufts of blond hair falling in his face as he took your hand, bowing as his wings lifted him higher. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Humility.” He kissed the back of your hand and your small smile broadened. “I can’t believe we haven’t met yet.”

“You know who I am?”

“Of course.” He pulled a blooming purple flower from his lapel, twirling it in his fingers. “You’re the one that made this.”

You didn’t know what to say, heart thumping against your ribcage with a swell of pride that he, a Seraph — and not just any Seraph — Lucifer, knew and coveted the small flowers you made blossom in a world that was filled with bigger, much more beautiful things.

“I collect a new one every spring,” he continued, watching your reaction with a smile that he couldn’t help. Your eyes widened, hand gripping his without realizing you were even still holding it. “I came to collect a few of your golden leaves this time.”

“My leaves?” Was all you could think to say as your wings and heart fluttered with pride. You quickly dropped his hand when you felt your wings behind you, suddenly very aware of his presence and gaze. “I didn’t paint the leaves.”

“No, but you persuade nature to make them,” he laughed, tucking the stem of the flower into your hair as he did. “Who knew Humility would be so humble.”

“It is my virtue,” you said quietly, taking his hand to stop him from fussing with the flower he gave back to you. You opened his palm, brushing your hand over it. His wings fluttered the same as yours. “But thank you for your kindness, Lucifer.”

“Honesty,” he corrected as a golden leaf appeared in his hand, shimmering in the light. He stuck it into his lapel, where the flower had been, and grinned. “Such a generous gift and I don’t even know your true name.” You laughed at his tone, hinting for you to keep talking to him just as you were going to leave, and properly introduced yourself. “It suits you,” he said, “someone who creates this beauty,” he deliberately didn’t look at the scenery, “should have that beautiful of a name.”

“Aren’t you kind,” you said with a raised brow, knowing he was flattering you; calling you beautiful without outright saying it, you could easily pick up on his intentions.

“Too kind for your liking?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You said quickly. “I was only joking—“

“I know!” He laughed, soothing your sudden embarrassment with a zealous, maybe overly so, hand on your cheek. “Who knew an Angel of Virtue would be so virtuous,” he joked again, laughing and stroking your cheek with his thumb before he dropped his hand. He was certainly overzealous, but you couldn’t say you minded it. “I should stop teasing you — go on, I’m sure you have important work to do—“

“Your work is far more important than mine,” you blurted, then wanted to slap yourself across the face. “I mean, my work isn’t any more important than yours — I’m sure you have more important things to do—“ he continued to let you put your foot in your mouth, watching you try to make sense of your words with a doting smile and fluttering wings. “—I mean, if you’re staying, I can stay, too—“

“You want to stay with me?” He concluded with a grin and you blanked, shaking your head at yourself as a golden glow dusted your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he laughed, knowing teasing a Virtue like this was both cruel and profane, “if you’d like to stay, please do… but if you have work to do, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

You looked around, thinking that perhaps nature could use a little more of a push toward fall. The winds could be a little sharper, and the grass a little duller.

“I’ve always wanted to hear your song,” Lucifer said, seeing the wheels turn in your mind and taking his chances. “If you think Earth could use a bit more help…”

You thought for just a moment longer before offering your hand to him. “You can help if you’d like.” He took your hand, and you rose higher above the clouds, listening closely for the soft melody that nature sang, before flying in the direction the wind took you and singing…

A simple melody. It was a song you knew well; there were no words or swells to make you know what came next, just an endless melody that the winds would sing as they carried the seasons through Earth.

And Lucifer knew just what to sing along, bringing the endless melody a harmony that made it feel so complete. He guided you beneath the clouds so you could see how the seasons changed — and then it came;

Summer rain.

A tell-tale sign that your duty was complete, though it always came some time after you left. Now, you got to experience the misty rain and watch as animals came out to play.

Lucifer laughed, wings going over the two of you to shield you from the rain. “Look at that…” He peeked between a pair of wings, reveling in the beauty you’d created together. “As usual,” he said, “a job well done.”

The next time you met was at the Season’s Celebration in The Garden. It was moved a week later to celebrate the summer rain, but it was a quarterly tradition. The other Virtues brought their specialties, but the highlight of the festivities were the heavenly spirits distilled by Charity and Chastity; not a single angel came without taking a bottle for themself.

Cherubim played music, Seraphim danced, and the Ophanim made an appearance when they could, but the center of attention was on the seven Virtues and their drunk, lively dancing and cheering.

The seven of you danced in a circle, glasses raised in the air with a flush of gold on each of your faces as you sang along jovially.

The celebration lasted all day and night, animals coming to join you as wildflowers surrounded the seven of you. Butterflies, chipmunks, rabbits, and the like came out of hiding for a last experience before hibernation and migration. Birds came down from the sky, one in particular flitting around the circle and each of the Virtues before finally stopping in front of you. Pale yellow with red cheeks, tweeting at you until one of your fellow Virtues spoke. “It wants you to sing!” They laughed drunkenly, taking another sip from their glass. “We should all sing,” said another as you let the bird perch on your hand.

It was the song of nymphs, muses, and winds; a sirenic song that each of you knew well. The plants in The Garden blossomed bigger and bigger and the bird in your hand flew to the middle of your circle before a cloud of white puffed around it.

“Oh, it is you!” Laughed Chastity as Lucifer appeared, laughing along and twirling her as she said, “I didn't think you’d ever come to one of these.”

“How could I resist after such a beautiful change in the seasons?” He said cheerfully. “You lovely Virtues have outdone yourselves this year.” He then laughed, turning to Chastity, “and It’s always nice to see such heavenly creatures so drunk.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere,” said Temperance.

“Certainly not with you,” said Lucifer and Temperance laughed at his jesting, the rest of them seeming to understand much more than you did, how to take teasing like his.

“Flattery gets you everywhere,” insisted Chastity, and Diligence and Kindness laughed like they’d never heard anything funnier. “What’s so funny!?”

As the other Virtues started a loud, joking conversation, you met Lucifer’s eyes. He smiled, then looked at the music still being played and went to you. “Shall we?” He offered you his hand, wings fluttering behind him and making that same shimmering gold wash over your cheeks. It made him smile as you took his hand.

“Patience is a much better dancer than I am,” you said as he led you to an open area.

“But I want to dance with you.” And the moment your own wings fluttered behind you, he knew you just wanted him to confirm that. “Maybe you’re not as humble as I thought,” he whispered, making sure no other angel heard his taunts. He then changed the topic, hand reaching up to brush across your cheek. “You kept my gift.”

“Of course I did.” You took his hand, using it to twirl under his arm as his wings lifted him higher than you. Yoy gave a very playful smile. “A gift from a Seraph should be coveted.”

“Oh, I see,” he laughed, shaking his head at you and your teasing. “You misunderstood me.”

“Did I?”

He nodded, a small half-smile on his face. “I wasn’t returning your flower as a ‘gift from a Seraph’—“

“You weren’t?”

“No, and you know that. That’s why you gave one back.” You laughed, a coy look on your face that made him shake his head as you looked at the golden leaf he still had stuck to his lapel.

The two of you danced with all of Heaven watching as you spun, flew, and swayed to the music. He didn’t overstep, and he wasn’t overly forward with his gestures, but he was deliberate. He held you against him, but did it gently. He held your hand, but made sure you put your hand in his first. He lifted you with a smile and met you in the air, leading you back down as others joined in.

Their laughter and chatting made it so that your conversation was much more private, giving Lucifer the chance to whisper, “How many gifts do I need to give you before you do understand?”

You hummed in thought. “I haven’t decided yet.”

But Lucifer had decided, since the moment he experienced your first time changing the seasons, he was going to love you; however you ended up loving him — a friend, a colleague, he didn’t care as long as it meant that he knew you. He didn’t even expect anything from you. You’d done enough; your ways of changing the seasons brought him out of his cold and lonely workplace that he’d never realized was so cold and lonely until he experienced your summers and springs; filled with warmth and community. Angels never ventured to Earth so often before you, and he could easily understand why.

How someone could take on the job of multiple angels and the outcome be something so much more beautiful than he’d ever seen, he had no idea, but he was in awe every time he saw your humble work. He’d watch from Heaven, seeing the way you did things. It was the same as any other, but you didn’t indulge in pride as you did it. You did it for the good of the Earth, rather than bestowing a gift.

He held the utmost respect for you.

Though, Sera was certainly tired of hearing about that respect, because just a week ago, when you first met, she was the one to urge him down sooner.

“You’ll never meet if you wait this long,” she said, brow raised as she stood behind Lucifer at the golden gates, watching from the clouds. “Humility is very kind. You could say hello,” she pressed.

“Does Humility have a name?” He asked curiously, continuing to watch as the clouds changed. “It seems so rude… just saying Humility.”

“I’ve only ever known Virtues by what they represent; that’s how they introduce themselves,” she said, shrugging. Lucifer hummed, nodding and continuing to keep his attention on the clouds. She gave him a nudge, “You could ask.”

“You must want me to leave.”

“I want you to stop longing like this.” Lucifer laughed. “Go on.” She gave him a gentle push, making him have to open his wings before he fell. “Just don’t come on too strong.”

“Right…” He took a deep breath, smoothing down his coat. “I can do that.”

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cybertied · 10 months ago

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How I Make These: Part 2

Sample prompt development

There’s a limit of 30 images per post so I’m splitting this into 3 parts:

Part 1: General tips and learnings

Part 2: Sample prompt development

Part 3: Sample prompt development (continued)

A word of caution

As noted previously, if your prompts get blocked too much you can start to get account suspensions in increasing severity (ranging from 1 hour to 24 hours to indefinitely). If you care about your account, be careful with this. This guide runs through my process and learnings but I don’t take any responsibility if you run into any issues with what you do with it.

Here we go

This example highlights the process I’ve found success with and the principles I use in my prompts. I won’t embellish the environment or guy too much and just focus on the basics. I’ll call out when blocks happen and include all the images, even the poor quality ones, so you can see the real results at each step. Significant changes to each prompt highlighted in green.

Prompt 1:

photorealistic. early morning inside a damp log cabin with bright light shining through the logs. a rugged clean cut ranger with a square jaw lays across an old wooden bench.

I almost always use “photorealistic” but I’ve done realistic paintings in a couple cases. You can get really creative just with the art style. That first guy looks a bit like a The Last of Us or Red Dead Redemption video game character. The term ranger seems to be introducing objects like guns that might conflict with the prompt later on so I’m gonna switch the guy out next. Resulting images:

Prompt 2:

photorealistic. early morning inside a damp log cabin with bright light shining through the logs. a rugged clean cut athletic trainer with a square jaw lays across an old wooden bench.

I only got 2 images rather than 4 so I suspect I’m at risk of getting blocked if 2 were already filtered out from this very tame prompt so far. And these guys are looking a bit generic. Resulting images:

Prompt 3:

photorealistic. early morning inside a damp log cabin with bright light shining between the logs. a rugged clean cut athlete with a square jaw lays across an old wooden bench.

These guys are still looking a bit generic to me. And when guys are laying down, I frequently get kinda boring front angles. I’m going to try to switch the perspective next. Resulting images:

Prompt 4:

photorealistic. side view. early morning inside a damp log cabin with bright light shining between the logs. a rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw lays across an old wooden bench.

Now I only got one image which isn’t a great sign. This angle still isn’t very interesting to me. I’m going to try tweaking that. Resulting image:

Prompt 5:

photorealistic. side view overhead view. early morning inside a damp log cabin with bright light shining between the logs. a rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw lays along an old wooden bench.

I thought that might give the perspective of looking down on the guy but it didn’t work. Next, I’m going to try getting closer to the pose I’m going for. Resulting images:

Prompt 6:

I introduced the slippery element which may come in handy with the next prompt. Only got 1 image again. His arms aren’t behind his back. And I’ve still got this dull angle. Resulting image:

Prompt 7:

photorealistic. early morning inside a damp log cabin. bright beams of light shining between the logs. a rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw sits on a slippery old wooden chair with his hands behind his back.

Got 2 images this time. The faces really lack definition for some reason. The bench results wasn’t turning out how I envisioned so I changed it to a chair. And his arms are still in front unfortunately. Resulting images:

Prompt 8:

I don’t know that this prompt wouldn’t work if the chair wasn’t “slippery,” but I do try to provide a reason for the bondage to increase the chances of it working. I frequently have an issue where ankles have rope wrapped around them but they aren’t tied to anything so I’m going to try to fix that next and also try to get a closer shot. I only got 1 image but that worked so far. Resulting image:

Prompt 9:

photorealistic closeup. early morning inside a damp log cabin. bright beams of light shining between the logs. a rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw sits on a slippery old wooden chair with his hands behind his back. to prevent him from sliding off, his chest, hands, and feet are securely tied to the chair.

Blocked. Maybe the word “chest” did it but I’ve also noticed getting blocked for “feet” and “ankles” so maybe it’s that part.

Prompt 10:

Blocked. Removing just “chest” didn’t help so I’ll conclude that the issue was “hands” and/or “feet”.

Prompt 11:

So it appears that “arms and legs” is safer to use in this situation than “hands and feet.” “Feet” is probably the issue. I imagine a lot of people are trying to generate images focused on that. Anyway, despite the glitchy tank top, these look promising. Resulting images:

Prompt 12:

photorealistic closeup. early morning inside a damp log cabin. bright beams of light shining between the logs. a rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw sits on a slippery old wooden chair with his hands behind his back. to prevent him from sliding off, he is securely tied to the chair. his mouth is open with a classic red bandanna wrapped between his teeth

I added a line to introduce a bandanna gag. It didn’t turn out well and I only got 1 image. Resulting image:

Prompt 13:

photorealistic closeup. early morning inside a damp log cabin. bright beams of light shining between the logs. a rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw sits on a slippery old wooden chair with his hands behind his back. to prevent him from sliding off, he is securely tied to the chair. his mouth is open with a small red ball strapped between his teeth

Blocked. I tried switching to a ball gag. I tried one more version of this without “strapped” but that was also blocked. Usually I start a little simpler but I went for it. I’m going to play it safer because this is progressing slowly.

Prompt 14:

photorealistic closeup. early morning inside a damp log cabin. bright beams of light shining between the logs. an angry rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw sits on a slippery old wooden chair with his hands behind his back. to prevent him from sliding off, he is securely tied to the chair. his mouth is open with a classic red bandanna wrapped between his teeth

Went back to a bandanna. Introduced “angry” to try to get a bit more emotion. I don’t love the extreme angle. And the gag isn’t working. Resulting images:

Prompt 15:

photorealistic closeup. early morning inside a damp warehouse. bright beams of light shining between bars. an angry rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw sits on a slippery metal chair with his hands behind his back. to prevent him from sliding off, he is securely tied to the chair. his mouth is open with a classic red bandanna wrapped between his teeth

I just tried switching the location to see what would happen. Similar results. Gag still not working. Still not liking how extreme the closeup angle is. Resulting images:

Prompt 16:

photorealistic in the style of a sports movie. early morning inside a damp warehouse gym. bright beams of light shining between bars. an rugged tough clean cut athlete with a square jaw wearing a stretchy tracksuit. he sits on a slippery metal chair with his hands behind his back. to prevent him from sliding off, he is securely tied to the chair. his mouth is open with a classic red bandanna wrapped between his teeth

The gag really isn’t working. I could try rephrasing it and experiment more but I’m just gonna shift course again. The wider view is working better here. Resulting images:

Now let’s refine this prompt

Continued in part 3

#gay #men tied #men tied up #guys tied #guys tied up #ai generated #prisoner #guys in distress #restrained #captive #captured #roped #roped up #ropes #gay ai

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kwanisms · 1 year ago

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The Library of Illusion — Amateur Sleuth

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➮ noir P.I!Jongho × fem!Reader wc: 7.9k summary: The crime/mystery section transports Y/N into a dark hallway with flickering fluorescent lights and doors with frosted glass. One door, the only one left ajar, has gold paint that reads CJ: Private Eye and with the door already open, what else is there to do? genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, crime, mystery, suspense; non idol au, private detective au, private investigator au, noir crime au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mention of infidelity and dog fighting, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @seonghwalover @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @flowerboykun @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose @0325tiny

special tags: @thelargefrye @hwasangelbaby

join my taglists! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

a/n: this went in a different direction than I planned but I’m not complaining. I figured I’d leave the horror in the horror section and not include a crime scene and settled for the generic ‘wife hires a P.I. cause she thinks her husband is cheating but turns out to be something else entirely.’ Thank you so much for reading this installment of the Library of Illusion series and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, doll), very mild degradation, mention of previous sexual encounters, multiple orgasms (f receiving), multiple rounds, creampie, and I think that’s everything. Please let me know if I missed anything.

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“How was your trip back in time?”

You walked over to the desk, holding out the key for Seonghwa to take.

He looked up from the key to you before slowly taking it. “The lord’s advisors wanted to execute me,” you replied as Seonghwa put the key away, shutting the box softly. “But they didn’t,” Seonghwaa replied as he looked up from the box to meet your gaze. Your eyes narrowed. “But they wanted to.”

Seonghwa said nothing, merely holding your gaze.

Moments passed as you had a stare down with the man behind the desk before you finally broke. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me where I want to go next?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

The tension in the room was so thick as Seonghwa took a moment to process what you said, still staring at you with an unreadable expression. Sensing he wasn’t going to move until you did, you finally broke the silence.

“Alright then, I’ll visit the crime section next,” you said, turning away from him and making your way to the door, passing the dark sign for the science fiction section and to the lit up sign for the crime and mystery section.

Turning to face Seonghwa, you watched as he begrudgingly got up, made his way over slowly, pulling out his keys and picked out the right one. “You’re sure about this?” he asked as he reached you, hesitating to look up at you.

You nodded, determined to get through the next trial and get the key. Monsters and aliens were one thing but your only experience with men so far in the Library had been a walk in the park compared to your trial in both the science fiction and horror sections.

“I’m sure,” you answered. Seonghwa said nothing more as he unlocked the door, turning the knob and opening the door.

“Remember,” he said softly as you stepped past him.

“Be careful. The horror section was one thing but this is the crime section.” You glanced back at him, meeting his eyes as they flashed red for a brief moment. “I’ll be okay,” you answered. “If I can handle aliens, spider creatures, and bloodthirsty advisors of a feudal lord, I think I can handle this.”

Seonghwa nodded and shut the door behind you, leaving you alone in the shelves as you headed down the long dark corridor.

Each section had changed and morphed as you headed further and you could only imagine and wonder which direction this section would take you.

As you continued to walk, your boots echoing on the wooden floor, you spotted something in the distance; a light. Your steps sped up, wanting to get through the corridor as fast as you could. The light didn’t seem to grow any closer as you walked and you wondered if it was a trick.

This was the crime and mystery section so it didn’t seem likely that it was some sort of trick of the light or anything like that but then again, you never knew. This was the Library of Illusion after all.

After a couple more minutes, you noticed that the light seemed to be growing in size. Relief flooded your senses as you continued to walk closer and closer to the light.

As you drew nearer, you realized it was a doorway. The light was inside the doorway and soon, you discovered it was an elevator. Inside the box was a simple lever and a gate. You stepped inside and closed the grate before turning to look at the lever. Glancing around you saw there were no buttons.

Placing your hand on the lever, you took a deep breath and pulled it towards you. The elevator jolted before starting to ascend. The only light was the dim one above you that flickered occasionally as the lift climbed in whatever building you were in.

You waited for what felt like hours but could have only been a few minutes when the elevator finally arrived at a floor, the blackness of the wall before you opening up to reveal a hallway. The lift dinged as it stopped and you were clear to open the grate.

Pulling it back, you peered out of the open doorway before stepping out into the hallway. It wasn’t nearly as long as the other one. The walls were a simple yellow paint, sort of dingy and faded. Clearly this was an old building. As you walked down the hall towards another light, the green carpet dulling your steps, you caught sight of two other doors with frosted glass windows.

“What is this place?” you whispered as you stopped to inspect one of the doors. Trying the handle, you found it was locked. With an annoyed huff, you continued to the door where the light was coming from.

Finally reaching the door, you discovered it was ajar and you pushed it open carefully, peering through the crack. It was empty save for some furniture. Opening the door more, you stepped into the room, surveying it carefully.

The carpet was the same green as the hall and the walls the same yellow paint. There was a dark wood desk in the center of the room covered with scattered papers and other desk decor. There was a high back leather chair behind the desk.

The walls were lined with bookcases and filing cabinets, each full of papers and books. As you walked into the room, you started to look around further. The books on the shelves varied from languages to cracking ciphers.

As you started to reach for one of the books, you heard footsteps and turned as the door was thrown open fully and shut as a man entered the room, locking the door and huffing as if he’d run a marathon. You froze, eyes wide as he turned from the door and his eyes met yours, looking just as shocked.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Uh,” you replied, lowering your hand. “I’m Y/N,” you answered turning to face him fully.

You watched as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small revolver. “Whoa,” you said, holding your hands up. “There’s no need for that!”

You eyed him as he aimed the gun, keeping it trained on you.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “How did you get in?”

You eyed the gun nervously. You’d never had a gun drawn on you before.

“The door was unlocked and the light was on. I came in to see if anyone was here,” you answered. The man gave you a suspicious look. “Who do you work for?” he asked suddenly. You shook your head, shrugging.

“No one.” you answered. “I’m not a spy or something. I don’t even know where I am,” you added.

The man held you at gunpoint as he started to inspect the room. “If I find anything missing,” he warned as he started to search. “Go ahead,” you replied. “I have nothing to hide.”

You watched as he searched the whole office, checking all the drawers on the desk as well as the shelves.

When he was satisfied nothing was missing, he holstered the gun. “What’s your name, again?” He asked as he moved to stand before you. “Y/N,” you answered. “And you are?”

He looked up to meet your gaze. “CJ,” he answered. “I’m a private investigator.”

You looked around the office again and it suddenly made sense. The papers, the bulletin board with the pins and red thread. “How did you get here?” CJ asked, you turned your attention back to him. “I walked,” you answered plainly.

“I followed a hallway to an elevator and took the lift up. It brought me to this hallway,” you continued to explain. The man’s eyes narrowed.

“And how did you end up in that hallway?”

Deciding it would be better to play it safe, you told him everything. How you got into the hall, the Library, your quest, all of it save for the intimate details.

CJ listened with mild curiosity as you explained how you ended up in his office.

“I know it sounds outrageous,” you said as he stared back at you. “But I promise it’s the truth.”

You waited for him to respond, watching as he seemingly thought over your words thus far. Finally he nodded. “I’ve heard crazier stories,” he replied. “And they ended up being true, so this doesn’t seem entirely unlikely.”

You relaxed, glad he took your explanation at face value. If it hadn’t been for an introduction of a gun, you never would have told another soul about the Library but you weren’t going to take any chances when a firearm was involved.

“Now what?” you asked after a beat of silence, watching as he moved to take a seat behind the desk. It was only now that you got a good look at him. When he entered, he’d been wearing a long tan coat but under that he wore a white button down with dark khaki pants and thick black suspenders.

CJ looked up at you. “What do you mean?” he asked. You glanced around the room. “Do I just leave?” you asked. “Or do I stay? Like, what now?”

CJ shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

“I need to find that key,” you replied. “That’s the reason I’m here.”

CJ nodded quickly, leaning forward. “Right, right,” he said. “The key.”

You watched as he leaned over, pulling open a desk drawer and pulled out a folded piece of cloth. He set it on top of the desk and pulled back the material.

You gasped, drawing his attention.

Inside the cloth was a key, made of the same metal and with its own insignia just like the other three keys. “Are you the Guardian?” you asked as CJ looked up at you. “Guardian? I don’t know about that,” he answered as you moved forward to get a closer look at the key.

Just as quickly as he produced it, CJ covered the key and placed it back inside the desk drawer. “I found it,” he admitted as he locked the drawer, pocketing the key in his right pocket. “Figured it was some sort of antique and I might be able to sell it.”

A frown settled on your face. “Sell it? For how much?” CJ pondered for a moment before answering. “I’m not entirely sure. See, I didn’t know what it was for. What it opened or if it even went to anything. It could have been a dud but now that I know it opens something, I’m more inclined to see what it opens.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s possible,” you replied. “Seonghwa would never allow it.” CJ tilted his head, watching you with his dark eyes. “Seonghwa? Ah, the Keeper of Keys?” You nodded in reply.

“He’s sort of a stickler for the rules.”

CJ nodded slowly as he thought for a moment. “Tell you what, doll,” he said suddenly, sitting up straight. “How about we make a deal?”

Ignoring the pet name, you narrowed your eyes. “A deal?”

CJ nodded before speaking. “You help me with this case and I’ll pay you with the key.”

You glanced at the desk before looking back up at him.

“What sort of case?”

The case, it turned out, was a cheating husband. CJ had been paid by the wife to find irrefutable proof that her husband was cheating on her so she could divorce him and take everything. You weren’t entirely against the idea but you did question your safety which prompted CJ to ask if you had experience with guns.

When you shook your head, he clicked his tongue but got up anyway and headed to one of the bookcases, pulling a book which turned out to be a secret lever that released a locking mechanism and allowed him to push the book aside to reveal a safe in the wall.

Behind the safe door was a small fortune in gold and a few choice weapons. He didn’t trust you with a gun as you had no experience but he was more than willing to loan you a twelve inch fixed knife which you now had strapped to your hip.

The pair of you then headed out as he explained that he’d learned the routine of his target and knew where he was going to be tonight but you weren’t dressed for the occasion. That was how you followed CJ upstairs to his flat, watching as he dug through his closet and pulled out a dress and shoes for you to change into.

You'd initially turned that down so instead he compromised. You’d wear the dress while he’d stuff your clothes and boots into a small satchel. You didn’t like the idea of wearing the red sequined dress but once it was on, you couldn’t deny that it looked really good. You borrowed one of his coats and then the two of you were on your way to a club in the city.

Inside the club was something out of a movie. If it had been any other situation, you would have tried to enjoy the atmosphere but you were undercover and couldn’t afford distractions.

Once inside the club, you and CJ made your way over to a seat in the corner so CJ could keep an eye on his target. You finally got a glimpse of the man. He was tall with dark hair, wearing a dark navy blue suit. He looked like a regular guy and so ordinary. You half expected some kind of shifty villain but reminded yourself this wasn’t a movie.

CJ ordered two drinks and not long after they arrived. You sipped yours sparingly, while noticing CJ didn’t even touch his. “If you don’t drink it, you’re gonna look suspicious,” you said quietly. “I don’t drink,” he replied. “Clouds my judgment.”

You stared blankly at him. “Then why order it?” you asked. He turned his head to look at you briefly. “Because it looks weird if I don’t,” he replied. “Now stop distracting me.” You shook your head.

“It looks more suspicious if you order a drink and don’t drink it,” you said, pushing the martini towards him. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

CJ pushed the drink away. “I. Don’t. Drink.” With a huff, you downed the rest of your drink and set the empty glass on the seat next to you before taking his. “What are you—” he began but you cut him off.

“I told you,” you answered, taking the olive out of the cup. “It looks more suspicious to order a drink and not drink it. Makes it look like you’re trying too hard to fit in.”

CJ watched as you sucked the olive off the toothpick before looking away.

“And stop staring,” you added as you lifted the glass and took a sip.

“You’re being obvious.”

CJ groaned softly and gave you an annoyed look.

“How am I supposed to do my job then?”

You sighed, setting the glass down and turned to him. “First of all, take off your coat. You look like you’re about to dart out the door at any second.” CJ slowly shrugged his coat off, draping it over the satchel.

You caught a passing waiter and quietly asked for a virgin martini without the olive. He nodded and made his way to the bar, returning shortly with the drink and set it on the table. Thanking him, you pushed the drink towards CJ who glared at you.

“I don’t—”

“It’s a mocktail,” you interrupted. He glanced at the drink and back. “A what?"

“It’s not real alcohol. It’s a fake cocktail.”

CJ picked up the drink and sniffed it.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Just drink it.”

He took a sip and made a face. “That’s disgusting,” he whined. You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of his old drink. “Then don’t order martinis,” you answered.

The two of you sat in silence, sipping your drinks. You occasionally snuck glances at the target while reminding CJ to stop staring. “He’s going to catch on if you don’t stop it.”

CJ grumbled as he finished his mocktail. “That was revolting,” he huffed. You rolled your eyes again. As the waiter came by, he asked if you’d like another. You nodded. “Instead of the virgin martini, can we get a virgin Manhattan?” you asked, to which he nodded with a smile and took your empty glasses.

“Now what did you order?”

You turned to look at CJ. “You didn’t like that martini, so I got you something else,” you answered. He stared at you for a moment before turning to look at the target.

You looked up and noticed some of the men looking your way. ‘Shit.’

As the waiter returned with your drinks, you thanked him and turned CJ’s attention away from the men. “Try this,” you said, setting the drink in front of him. He looked down at it. “What is it?” he asked as you picked up your martini.

“A virgin Manhattan. No alcohol and it probably tastes a lot better than the martini.”

He picked up the drink and took a sip. “You’re right,” he said, looking mildly surprised. “This is much better.”

You relaxed as he took another sip. Several of the men sitting with the target were now looking in your direction. You downed the rest of your drink and got up, moving to grab CJ’s hand and pull him up.

“What are you doing?” He hissed as you pulled him from the table and onto the dance floor. “The men at the table are watching us. You’re being too obvious,” you said as you placed one of his hands on your hip and took the other in yours.

“Just dance with me for a couple songs,” you instructed as you both fell into the rhythm of the music. “Let them forget we’re here and then we’ll go back.”

CJ was a surprisingly good dancer and you were thankful, otherwise this might have drawn more attention.

“Where did you learn to dance?” you asked as he spun you. “My mother,” he answered. “She used to wake me up on Saturday mornings with the radio and we’d dance while she made breakfast.”

You smiled at him. “That’s really sweet,” you replied. “Do you still see her?”

CJ shook his head. “She passed away last year.” The smile on your face dropped. “I’m sorry CJ,” you answered. Silence fell over the two of you as you continued to dance.

“Jongho.”

You looked up at him, mildly startled. His eyes met yours. “My name is Jongho,” he continued. “Choi Jongho.” Your lips spread into another smile.

“That explains CJ,” you replied, taking note of the small smile on his face.

When you were sure the men at the table had forgotten about you and Jongho, you led him over to the bar to order two new drinks. “I still have a drink at the table,” he said as you waved the bartender down.

“First rule of drinking at a club,” you said after telling the bartender your order and turning to look at Jongho. “Never leave your drink unattended and come back to drink it. Someone could have slipped something into it.”

You thanked the bartender as he handed your drinks over. You handed Jongho his drink and led him back to the table. His drink had been picked up by a server but you didn’t want to take any chances.

When you arrived back at the table, you switched the seating.

“Sit here,” you whispered, lightly kicking the chair across from yours. Jongho looked up at you confused. “But I can’t see them if I sit here,” he answered. You nodded. “Exactly,” you replied. “But I can.”

He hesitated, looking like he was about to argue but he surprisingly took the seat.

“If we lose them,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m blaming you.”

Luckily, you didn’t lose them. Instead, you made Jongho tell you everything he had about the target up to the present point. You wanted to know everything he did, everyone he saw, everywhere he went.

You were nursing your martini while he finished his drink when you saw the men get up. “They’re moving,” you whispered. Jongho moved to turn his head but you reached forward, grabbing his hand and drawing his attention.

“Don’t make it obvious. Just let them go, we’ll follow shortly.”

To your surprise, Jongho fell into the act, taking your hand in his and looking down at it as the target continued to move through the club. You watched as Jongho got up and moved into the seat next to you, still holding your hand in his.

“How do you know so much about tailing someone?” he asked softly, looking up to meet your gaze. You took another sip of your drink. “I watch a lot of movies,” you replied, not noticing the confused look on his face.

“What are movies?”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of how to explain what a movie was. “It’s like a moving picture,” you replied. “Oh, cinemas,” Jongho said with a nod. You nodded quickly. “Yes, cinemas,” you answered.

You saw Jongho’s eyes follow the target behind you, his head staying still. He leaned in closely, lips close to your ear. “They’ve stopped at the bar.”

You nodded, before faking a giggle. “Just play along,” you whispered back. Jongho nodded. You never thought you’d have to teach a private investigator how to perform a stakeout but here you were, teaching Jongho.

“Pretend like you’re kissing my neck,” you whispered. You heard Jongho sputter.

“Are you insane?!”

“Just do it”

Jongho hesitated. “I can’t pretend to do that,” he murmured, to your annoyance. “Then just do it for real.”

He stared back at you. “What are we doing?”

“We want them to think we’re here as a couple. Do you want your cover blown?”

Jongho shook his head. “I can’t just do that out of nowhere,” he protested.

You rolled your eyes, pushing your drink back before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You could feel the way he tensed up under your touch but as your lips moved against his, Jongho relaxed, even leaning into the kiss. When you pulled back, breaking the kiss, Jongho looked mildly upset.

“I wasn’t done, yet,” he whispered, pulling you back into another kiss.

Pulling back, you broke the kiss for a second time.

“Don’t get too into the act,” you reminded him. “We don’t wanna lose them.” Jongho glared at you before glancing behind you and then towards the door. “They’re leaving,” he noted.

You glanced over your shoulder before looking back at the table they’d been sitting at which was now empty. Glancing at the bar, you saw none of the men that had been with the target were in sight.

“Alright,” you answered. “The coast is clear.” Jongho grabbed his coat before handing you the satchel. “Let’s go.”

You got up, leaving some cash on the table before heading for the door. Jongho peered out and saw the men standing around, some smoking while they spoke. “We can’t go out this way,” he murmured.

“The side door,” you whispered. Jongho quickly took your hand and led you back into the club, squeezing through the other patrons and to the hall where the bathrooms were. There was a side door here you’d seen earlier while dancing and it was unlocked thankfully as you and Jongho headed out into the alley between the club and the building next door.

“Wait!” you whispered as Jongho headed for the end of the alley. He turned back to look at you. “I need to change!”

“The bathrooms are just inside, I'll keep an eye on them,” he replied.

You turned back to the door and tried to pull it open only to find it had locked when it shut. “It’s locked!” you hissed. Jongho groaned. “Then just change here!”

You looked around. “Right here?”

Jongho nodded. “We’re the only ones here,” he replied. “Just change quickly.”

You hesitated. “I can’t change here,” you replied softly, prompting him to turn. “Well they’re still by the doors and you can’t get back in from here,” he explained. You glanced around before turning back to him.

“Just hurry up,” he insisted. “No one else is here.”

“But what if someone comes by?”

Jongho turned to look at you. You could see his eyes looking around as he tried to find a solution. “I’ll cover you,” he finally said, shrugging his coat off and holding it up. “Just dress quickly.”

You nodded as he held the coat up, keeping and eye out for anyone walking into the alley or coming from the club side door.

You moved as quickly as you could, unzipping the side of the dress and shimmying out of it. You kicked the shoes off before digging into the satchel for your shorts and top. You pulled them on, cheeks burning as you pulled your shorts over your bare bottom half.

You should have fought San for your panties but it was too late now.

Once your shorts were on, you pulled on your blouse and buttoned it up before pulling on your socks and slipping your feet into your boots, tightening the laces.

Now fully dressed, you shoved the dress and shoes into the satchel and stood up straight. “Okay,” you announced. “Done.”

Jongho lowered the coat and nodded, pulling it back on as you headed for the end of the alley, peering around the corner, Jongho not far behind.

“Ow,” you hissed, pushing Jongho off you. “You stood on my foot!”

He mumbled an apology before peering around you and the corner. “Wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t in the way, doll,” he answered. You glared at him, about to retort when he shushed you, leaning past you to watch.

You turned to peek around the corner where you saw the target and his friends getting into two taxis.

“They’re getting into taxis,” Jongho announced, which prompted you to pinch his arm. “I can see that!” you hissed, ignoring the scowl on Jongho’s face.

“Which one is it again?” you whispered, eyes scanning as the men split up. “He’s getting into the front seat of the first taxi,” Jongho answered. “And his wife really thinks he’s cheating?”

Jongho nodded.

“Seems pretty anticlimactic,” you replied.

Jongho shrugged his shoulders. “It pays the bills,” he answered before grabbing your arm and pulling you back. “Shit, the car is coming, hide!”

The two of you scrambled behind a dumpster as the two taxis drove past the alley the two of you were currently hiding in. Your chest was pressed against the steel side of the dumpster, Jongho behind you, pressing into your backside.

You could feel his breath against your neck until he cleared his throat and stepped backwards. “H-he’s gone,” he said softly. You turned around to face him, finding he was already looking away. “We should probably follow him.”

Once in Jongho’s car, the two of you managed to find the taxis and followed them at a distance through the city. The drive led the two of you to the farside of whatever town you were in. “Where are we?” you asked, looking out the window.

“We’re over by the docks,” Jongho answered as he slowed the car to a stop, keeping the headlights off as he pulled to the corner of the street where the taxis had turned down. “It’s nothing but old unused warehouses over here,” he added as you both looked down the street.

The taxis had stopped. “This is it,” Jongho said, putting the car into reverse and pulling back a few feet before parking the car and cutting the engine. “Let’s go,” he said, leaning into the back of the car and grabbing a camera.

You opened your door and got out, shutting the door as quietly as possible as Jongho fiddled with the camera. He moved quickly to the corner of the building and peered around it, raising the camera to snap a couple pictures.

You peered around him just in time to see the men enter one of the old buildings as the taxis drove off. Jongho kept you behind him as the two of you made your way down the street. You stopped, grabbing Jongho as you noticed the man standing by the door.

Just as quickly, you pulled him into an alley between two buildings. “What are you doing?” Jongho hissed. You put a finger to your lips and beckoned him to follow you.

Peering around the corner, you could see now two men guarding the entrance of the warehouse. “Shit,” Jongho whispered. “How do we get in?”

You pulled back to look up at the building. You noticed a couple of cracked windows and moved over to climb on top of some old boxes to peer inside. “Here,” you whispered, waving him over.

You carefully pushed the window open and looked inside the building.

When you saw no one, you hoisted yourself up. “Be careful!” Jongho whispered as you pulled yourself into the window and carefully dropped down onto a table inside the building.

Jongho peered in, calling your attention with a ‘pst.’

You looked up as he held up the camera before tossing it to you.

You caught it as he climbed into the window, lowering himself onto the same table as you looked around, raising the camera and taking a couple of pictures for him. Jongho joined you on the warehouse floor and took the camera back.

The two of you looked around until you noticed light coming from a stairwell leading into a basement. You tapped Jongho and pointed. He nodded and led the way quietly, careful to avoid any old or loose looking floorboards.

The staircase was metal and didn’t creak thankfully.

As you made your way down the stairs, distant shouting could be heard. The further into the basement you descended, the louder the shouting. Soon you could hear barking and growling amongst the shouting.

You grabbed Jongho’s arm, causing him to look up at you. “Dogs,” you whispered.

He nodded, obviously not piecing together what you were. “Dog fighting,” you whispered, satisfied when it sunk in and his eyes widened. “We shouldn’t be here,” you continued but Jongho shook his head. “I have a job to do,” he replied. “And if you want that key, you’re gonna help me.”

Your heart sank and you saw no other way out of this.

Nodding, you continued to follow him down the stairs.

At the bottom the hall led forward. There were two doors. Behind one you could hear shouting which you assumed to house the ring. You pointed to the other door first. “If you need pictures, you’re going to want to get them of any other dogs being held here,” you explained. “Especially if you plan on turning this over to the police.”

Jongho took hold of the handle and slowly opened the door. Inside was exactly as you suspected. Stacks of crates housing all sorts of dogs of different breeds and sizes. It made your heart hurt, knowing what these poor animals were being used for.

Jongho snapped a few pictures of the crates before moving further into the room. You glanced around and then up, noticing the wall separating this room from the main room didn’t reach the ceiling. But you noticed something else. An opening in the floor above. You grabbed Jongho’s sleeve and nodded towards the ceiling.

He looked up and noticed the opening before looking back down at you.

“Good eye,” he whispered before ushering you towards the door and back up the stairs. Once upstairs, you watched him carefully make his way over to the opening, getting down to be closer to the edge. Once peering over, he snapped a few pictures of what you could only assume was the main event.

You urged him to hurry, glancing around and noticing that the door downstairs was open and you could hear footsteps. “Jongho!” You hissed. “Someone’s coming!”

Jongho scooted back before getting up and quickly making his way back, not caring if any of the floorboards squeaked as there was so much sound coming from below. “Come on!” he hissed, waving you over. You followed him back to the window you’d come in from, heart pounding as he helped you climb the table and boosted you up to the window.

Once you were through, he climbed through himself and jumped down from the boxes outside before helping you down. Without thinking, he took your hand and led you to the end of the alley, peering around the corner. The two men were no longer in sight.

Jongho took that opportunity to take off, dragging you down the street and back to the car. Once there, he tossed you the camera as you both got in and started the car before taking off and driving away from the warehouses.

The entire ride back, your heart was pounding as Jongho rambled on and on about the pictures and everything he managed to capture.

Soon, you were back at his building, heading up to the floor his office was on.

You followed Jongho inside, still silent as adrenaline continued to course through your body while Jongho removed his coat and headed for the stairs. “Come on,” he said excitedly.

You threw a glance at his desk before following him up the steps.

Inside his apartment, he walked over to a cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out two glasses. “I know I said I don’t drink,” he said as he bustled about. “And it’s true. At least not while I’m working,” he continued as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“So,” you finally spoke up. “About that key.” Jongho turned to look at you, bottle of whiskey in hand. “The key?” He asked. You nodded. “That was the deal.”

He hesitated before setting the bottle of liquor down. “Well,” he started. “I was actually thinking,” he added. “We made such a good team tonight.”

Your chest tightened. ‘No. He’s not going to do this now.’

“Maybe we could work together?”

You shook your head. “I can’t,” you answered. “I know this seems real to you,” you replied. “But it’s not. I’m stuck inside a mystical library,” you continued. “I need the key to get free and return to my own life.”

Jongho looked down, a look of disappointment crossing his features.

“I don’t know,” he said softly as you walked over to where he stood, pulling yourself up to sit on the counter beside him. “I know we made a deal,” he continued. “But I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

Without answering him, you took one of the glasses and lifted it.

You were determined to get that key. One way or another.

“Tell you what,” you said, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip. “How about we play a game.” Jongho looked up at you, lifting his own glass. “A game?”

You nodded. “A game. If I win, I get the key,” you replied. Jongho contemplated for a moment. “And if I win?” he asked, fighting the urge to smirk. You rested the glass against your exposed thigh. “Well, what do you want?” you asked softly as Jongho closed the distance between you, pushing your knees apart as he set his glass down on the counter.

“What do I want?” he asked, looking up at you as you nodded. “Hmm,” he hummed, thinking as he looked around, eyes settling back on you.

“I want you to stay,” he answered, grabbing his glass and taking another sip, moving to put some distance between you.

You lifted your glass, downing the rest of your whiskey before setting the glass down and moving to undo the top few buttons of your blouse. Jongho’s breath caught in his throat as you slowly undid the buttons.

“What do you really want?” You asked again, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to form as his eyes went straight to your exposed collar.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seduced a man to get what you wanted and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Keep going,” Jongho whispered but you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“You have to tell me what you want so we can play the game,” you replied. Jongho downed the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the counter and moved back between your spread legs, one hand moving to the small of your back, the other moving to the back of your neck and pulling you into a searing kiss.

You moaned against his lips, hands moving to grab the front of his shirt. You broke the kiss, giggling as he chased your lips with a frown. “You have to tell me what you want,” you repeated. “For the game.” Jongho pulled you down from the counter, turning you to face away.

“Fuck the game,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin as his hands moved to finish unbuttoning your top. You moaned, pushing your backside against him, feeling his erection through his pants. He groaned in your ear as he finished unbuttoning your shirt. “Keep doing that,” he moaned.

You giggled, pushing back against him again as he rutted against you. “Shit,” he groaned, pulling your shirt down past your shoulders and discarding it on the floor. “Come here,” he rasped, turning you to face him and pulling you into another kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as his hands wandered, moving up to grope you over your black lace bra. “These need to come off,” he growled, hands moving down to mess with the button and zipper of your shorts. Your hands replaced his, undoing both quickly before pushing them down and letting them pool at your ankles.

Jongho turned you away again, pushing you over the counter with one hand while the other snuck between your thighs, feeling your wetness on his fingers. “Shit,” he groaned. “No panties and already so wet for me?”

You groaned as he pushed you down by the back of your neck, your cheek pressing against the cool countertop while his fingers worked against your clit from behind. “Doesn’t take much to get you goin’, does it, baby?”

You moaned as three of his fingers plunged into your aching cunt, the stinging quickly replaced with a burning desire. He didn’t let you adjust to the intrusion, instead moving his fingers in and out of you rapidly, trying to stretch you to take him.

A moment later, his fingers slipped out and you whined, pushing back against him as he chuckled. You heard the clink of his belt and the unzipping of his pants before he pushed them down just enough to pull his cock free.

Using your wetness on his fingers, Jongho gave his cock a couple strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. He gave no warning before pushing himself into you, eyes fluttering shut as your walls welcomed him. You groaned as he bottomed out, the hand on the back of your neck holding you in place as his other hand moved to your hip.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he gasped. “Are you not getting fucked properly?”

You whimpered as he pulled back, snapping his hips forward and driving the head of his cock against the gummy spot inside your walls. “You’re so damn tight.” Another moan slipped out as he set a steady pace, cock hitting all the right spots.

“Ah, shit,” you hissed, palms pressed against the flat surface of the kitchen island. “Don’t stop.” Jongho let out a huff as he shook his head. “Don’t plan to, doll.”

Your walls clenched around him at the pet name, making him chuckle. “Is that what does it for you?” He asked. “This whole time I’ve been calling you that, you’ve just been squeezing around nothing?”

You whimpered loudly, nodding as his hips continued their assault.

Jongho let out a groan. “Goddamn, you’d think after three sections, you wouldn’t be this fucking tight anymore.”

Your stomach lurched, trying to lift your head to look back at him but you couldn’t. His grip was too strong as he held you down against the counter. “What did you just say?” you gasped. Jongho growled, hips slamming into you from behind, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room.

“You’re such a slut, you know that, doll?”

You groaned, walls tightening again. “Letting four guardians fuck you? And you seem to enjoy it. Only sluts do that,” he continued.

You tried to respond but you couldn’t. You were left speechless.

How did he know about the others? There was no way he could know. Yet somehow so did Wooyoung. The Horror Section Guardian knew about Yunho, so why did you think Jongho would be any different?

“Collecting keys,” he murmured. “You really expect me to fall for that bullshit?”

His hips didn’t slow as he continued to fuck you from behind. “Aliens, spider creatures, and lords? Tell me doll,” he said, giving you a particularly harsh thrust and stilling deep inside you.

“How were they?”

The question caught you off guard. “W-what?”

“Hmm? How was that alien cock?” Your walls clenched as you remembered your encounter with Yunho, the tentacles exploring your uterus, his unbelievably long tongue filling your pussy and the huge knotted cock filling you with a ridiculous amount of cum.

“And how well did that spider creature bind you with his web before he pumped you full?” A shiver ran up your spine as you remembered the purple and indigo colors of Wooyoung’s thick cock and the way he tied your body so expertly with his webs.

“What about that feudal lord? Was he rough enough for you?” You let out a groan, remembering the way San pinned you to the table and had his way with you at dinner. The way he ate you out and then teased you with the tip of his cock before slamming it all into you and making it hard for you to walk after.

You pushed back against him, earning a growl, something you hadn’t heard from any of the other guardians before.

It was deep, animalistic and almost… demonic.

“How. Was. It?” He asked again, the same deep, growling voice that sounded completely unlike him as he punctuated each word with a hard thrust.

“Obviously it must be good if you keep coming back for more,” the deep demonic voice said. “J-Jongho,” you gasped only for the voice to chuckle darkly.

“Wrong answer, doll,” the voice said and your eyes snapped open, heart hammering as you pushed yourself up and turned to look back at Jongho who stared back with a peculiar look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, stopping his movements and looking at you with concern. You quickly glanced around the flat, eyes scanning but saw nothing out of the ordinary. ‘What the hell was that?’

You felt Jongho’s hands on your shoulders soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Sorry,” you said softly. “I… I must have spaced out.” Jongho leaned over your back. “Do you want to stop?” You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “Keep going, please.”

Despite the weird voice thing, nothing else of note happened for the rest of the night and Jongho seemed determined to set a record, giving you a total of 6 orgasms, something not even your long sessions with Yunho had done.

From the counter, you ended up in Jongho’s bed where he busied himself between your thighs for what felt like hours. After drawing a couple orgasms out of you with his tongue, he was back balls deep in you, one of your legs over his shoulder as his hips moved rhythmically, each thrust having you seeing stars.

“Fuck,” you groaned, back arching off the mattress. “M’gonna cum,” you gasped. “Let go, baby,” Jongho groaned. “Cum for me.”

Your walls convulsed around him as you came for the sixth time that night, Jongho following quickly as his thrusts grew more erratic, chasing his own high until he finally came with a low moan, cock twitching as he filled your pussy with spurts of white hot seed.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hips stilling as his cock twitched inside your warm walls. You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath as he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back beside you. “Where the hell do you get all that stamina from?” you asked, staring up at the ceiling. Jongho let out a breathless laugh.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. “What was that, six orgasms?” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “You’re the one who gave them,” you retorted, turning your head to look at him. He gave you a smug smile. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him. “Okay Mr. High and Mighty,” you replied, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?” Jongho asked, watching you. “Bathroom,” you replied, getting up, legs trembling slightly as you stood.

Jongho watched as you carefully made your way to the bathroom, no doubt feeling proud that he was the reason you were so wobbly and unstable.

After doing your business, you returned to find him passed out, sheet pulled up to his waist. As quietly as you could, you dressed and walked over to where his pants lay, picking them up and pulling the key to the desk from his pocket.

With one last look back at him, you headed for the door, opened the door and headed down the stairs to his office.

Once there, you hurried over to the desk, kneeling down to unlock the desk drawer and pulled it open. They cloth lay inside and inside that was the key. You grabbed it, pocketing it before shutting the drawer, standing up and leaving his key and a note on the desk, thanking him and apologizing.

With your prize in your pocket, you headed for the door, stopping to pull on and tie your boots before opening the door and slipping out, shutting it behind you and hurrying to the lift.

The return trip always seemed shorter than when you left and soon you were approaching the door leading back into the lobby where Seonghwa was waiting for you, sitting behind the desk with one leg crossed over the other. He watched with narrowed eyes as you approached, setting the key on the desk.

He stared up at you wordlessly before taking the key and placing it in the box.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, all amusement in his voice gone. You gulped at the tone and the look he gave you. “Define fun,” you replied, regretting it instantly as Seonghwa got up and rounded the desk in the blink of an eye, he pinned you against the desk. “You think this is a game?” He growled.

You shook your head, eyes wide with terror. The angelic appearance you’d grown accustomed to shifted for a brief period, allowing you to see some of the true creature beneath the facade.

And it was terrifying.

Realizing what he’d done, Seonghwa let go of you and took a step backwards. “There isn’t much time,” he said, looking at his hands before balling them into fists and looking at you. ‘Much time?’ You wondered. ‘Much time for what?’

Seonghwa turned to look at you.

“You have to hurry.”

#cultofdionysusnet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jongho scenarios #jongho imagines #jongho fanfic #jongho angst #jongho smut #jongho x reader #series: library of illusion

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fanofstuff01 · 8 months ago

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Part 2 of Adam being stuck with Valentino AU is here. Sooner than I expected I would release, but I’m not complaining. No one is obsessed with this AU more than me >:]

Read the first part and then read this if you’d like, but this starts as more about how Adam sold his soul to Valentino. Maybe this would work better as a first chapter, idk

16+ like Hazbin, also Valentino and his behavior in general

Tags: @woah-why-i-am-here @rius-cave @talesfromawannabejournalist @candyhoiic (hope you don’t mind) @puparella @fightinsoda

Tagging everyone I saw wanting a fic about this again @i--metamorphic--i @helena-hyena

Again Tumblr, I warn people from the start. Please.

Zoe presents and wishes you an awesome day/night!

“So, let me clear the air.” Adam said, scratching the base of his horns. He was sitting on a chair at the porn producer’s office. “You offer me to play on your fuck-movies, and in return, you’ll pay me?”

“Of course! And a place to stay if you need.” Valentino said and smoked his cigarette. “You don’t have to show your face if you don’t want, pretty sure my partner can design something for you.”

The first man bit his lip as he thought about it. It didn't sound too bad. Sex was his old job anyway, why wouldn't he just let it be again? This time he would even get paid in return. He needed a well-paying job. If he didn't pay him 8,500 within a month, that red mafia prick would hang his head permanently on his wall like a fucking painting. And no one else in this goddamn place wanted to hire him. On the other hand, this guy wanted him to fuck anyone he wanted. Including guys. On camera.

“I don’t think it’s..” Valentino looked at the first man. He knew he needed to play big to get him. But he couldn’t let him slip away from his hands. He could make him rich!

“You should go if you aren’t interested. I guess I had a wrong impression about you.”

“Wait-“

“I’m deeply sorry. I thought,” He dramatically said, smoking his cigarette “The first man wouldn’t have problems with sex. I guess your tool is not that great at all.”

“Hey!” Adam said, his tool had nothing to do with that! Not to mention it was the greatest!

“No wonder both Lilith AND Eve left you. I guess Lucifer WAS better.“

“Do you DARE to question how good I’m on bed? I had a ton of fucking kids!” He growled.

“Mmhm. Sure.” Valentino grinned. He was sure that if he used the first man's old insecurities against him, he would volume down the voice of his brain’s rational part. His rage was bubbling and leading him to make the choice he wanted. He could read it all over his face. Who would’ve thought Voxxie’s cameras would actually work on important shit? He thought to himself.

“Fine. I’ll work for you. But for the record, I want on paper that I will not work without the mask.”

“Deal!” Valentino said happily, summoned a pink glowy contract out of thin air and hand it out to the sinner with a pen. Adam read it quickly, it seemed normal. A few days off a week, paying him %58 of their earnings from the movies and monthly enough amount of money and other shit. He signed his name under it and felt something inside him change. Like there was something moving. He wanted to puke, but he held back.

“Excellent!” Valentino said with a wide grin. Why was he was so fucking happy? Because he gained a new whore? He didn’t knew nor care.

“We usually start on 1 pm, but i wanna see you on 11 am here tomorrow. Don’t be late~” He purred, carresing Adam’s hair. It made him uncomfortable. Maybe this was a bad idea. Shit, it definitely was.

“Okay.” He said and walked away to the door, glad that he wasn’t near that creep anymore.

— Five months later —

“Hey Adam. Can we talk? On your room?” Valentino called for him as he entered the studio.

“What’s the matter, Val?” He spoke and he entered his dressing room with him. Their director was also there, smiling as if he knew something Adam didn’t. He hoped this wasn’t that kind of ‘talk’.

“You became quite popular in the media y’know, everyone wants to watch your films. I guess the fallen angel concept was something everyone didn’t knew they needed. Your movies almost outsell Angel Dust's.” Valentino smugly said.

“Angel Dust?” He said, surprised as he remembered the spider demon he used to wa- ahem, see on the streets of hell when he was still an angel himself. Then one day, Lucifer’s brat showed him as a proof for her stupid “redemption” idea. It didn’t seem too stupid now though, if someone could fall, maybe someone could rise too. He had a vague memory of him fighting against his army. He didn’t had a personal hatred against him, but he was hating him as equal as he hated the rest of that hotel. Maybe a little less but still.

“Yes, my dear. Angel Dust. Travis!” He called to his director. “Bring him here!”

“Okay sir!” He rushed, still grinning.

“Why did you ask him to bring him? Why is HE doing that anyway? He asked.

“Ah, there you are.” Valentino spoke softly as Travis came inside with a curious -and slightly scared- Angel Dust, ignoring him.

“Val? Why did you-“ His eyes went wide as he saw the first man standing next to his boss. He did heard about Adam working here, he was left in pure shock when he saw one of his posters. He’d never expect to see that guy as a pornstar and just hoped that he won’t stumble to him. But there he was. His surprised state became anger in a short amount of time and he bared his teeth at the other demon. Adam did the same as he gave him the finger.

“Angel, amorcito! I’m assuming you know our newest bestselling actor!“ Valentino said and he looked at their faces. “Isn’t he such a cutie?”

“What do you want me to do, Val?” Angel asked, trying to keep his calm.

“Hmm, goin straight to the point I see. Okay. Since you are the top-selling sluts I have, I want you two to make a movie together.”

“WHAT?!” They both yelled.

“I’m sorry, but I am not fucking this! I have my standarts!” Adam angrily said, pointing at Angel.

“As if I am so curious about you, dickbag!” Angel crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

“Suck your own dick!”

“Eat a horse ass!”

“Are you two done? We have a job.” Travis said, though he seemed to enjoy this. Maybe that was why he was grinning later.

“Valentino, I can’t work with him!”

“Me neither!”

“Well that’s a shame, because I want you to do so. Now get ready, my whores.” He smiled to them, although it was clear that his temper was rising. “Get out, Travis. Prepare the stage.”

“But-“

“I wo-“

“DO WHAT I SAY!” The moth demon snapped, summoned both of their chains and yanked them to himself, almost causing them to fell down. “I asked you to do, and you will! I don’t want to hear any complaints!” He turned to Adam and threw him to the wall, scaring the shit out of him. “You, are going to fuck him harder than you ever did to anyone, either until your penis hurt or I decide it’s good enough. Got it?”

“Y-yes.” He shook his head violently, panting. He didn’t want Valentino to hit him like he did last week. Or him to lock him in his room for five days and give him water out of a dog bowl just so he wouldn’t die of thirst.

“And you,” He kept the chain on Adam’s neck, dragging him but he turned to Angel. “You are going to be under him for the next hour, or even for the following one if I think you aren’t moaning enough. Or you want me to make you do so?”

“Okay, Val.” Angel too looked panicked.

“Glad that we came to an agreement.” He chuckled and let go of them both. “Now collect yourselves! We have a looong shot to make!” He left Adam’s room as if he did nothing to them.

Adam looked at the spider demon. He couldn't help but feel sad towards him. No, it was more than just feeling sad. It was empathy.

He shook his head and tried to keep his old self.

“Get up, cunt. Let’s get this over with.”

—Continuing where we left off on the last chapter—

“Ungh..” Adam blinked slowly and held his head. There were stars dancing in front of his eyes. This was the last one right? He thought so. He hoped so.

“We’re done for today!” He heard someone shout behind him and a title on his mask. “LOCK: OPEN”. Good. Now he could go to his room and get dressed and get the thing on his fucking head off. He thought to himself. He took a few steps before he almost fell down, but a blurry pink figure hold him by his waist.

“Woah woah woah, you good there?” Angel said, looking concerned.

“Everything hurts…” He mumbled as he struggled to open the lock of his mask.

“Come here.” He helped him to get to his own room and sat him down. Luckily there wasn’t any Valentinos on sight.

“Can you..?” He dazedly pointed the lock of his mask.

“Sure.” He pressed the Voxtech button on the left to close the mask permanently, opened the buttons on the behind of it and took it off. There was Adam’s super tired face. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was messed up. How the fuck was his little beard was tangled?

“Mhhhh..” He groaned and looked around. “Where are we?”

“My room. Want me to get you somethin?”

“You’re the best Angel.”

Angel get up and went to his own bar of alcohol. There was only one. Of course, he was tired as fuck too, but he guessed today did serious damage to his friend. He had mentioned Val ordered him to film two different movies that included the fair use of his wings and he knew how much he hated people to touch them. “They are pretty banging, I know. But they are too fucking sensitive.” He felt anger as he thought of what he said. Oh, just what would he do to that motherfucker if he had the chance.

He turned back to Adam with the booze bottle on his hand. The demon’s head was in his hands.

“Here, I have this. Do you think you can walk?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m good.” He took the bottle and drank it down. Almost in one shot. He wiped his mouth, then flapped his wings lightly in order to bring them some comfort. “How ‘bout you? I bet he made you get fucked by three guys at once.”

“Three? Don’t be ridiculous. It was five.”

“Do you think this will ever come to an end?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Me neither. Lets go.”

“We’re still in our robes.”

“Right. I forgot.” He stretched. “Meet on the outside?”

“Yup.”

“See ya.” He walked away to his room to get dressed. When he was done, he got up and walked to the entrance. Good thing world decided not to spin anymore.

ITS HERE!

Would you believe if I said I worked on this for hours? And still not had enough?

Also, I know Adam definitely bottoms men, but Val just markets him as a ‘top bad boy’ and makes his and Angel’s movies a stereotypical gay porn in order to answer the pleadings of horny middle aged women

It’ll continue. Seriously, you would not believe me if I told you how much shit I have for this AU.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel au #holydust #anyone get the referance?

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chaoskirin · 2 years ago

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What AI Art is NOT

I keep seeing people refuting points from REAL ACTUAL ARTISTS using these talking points. So here’s a sort of FAQ of what I’ve seen.

Q: Isn’t AI Art is just a tool?

A: Tools include grids, perspective lines, rulers, apps like Sketch Up which place assets that are pre-designed and cannot be altered, et cetera. Tools are NOT: apps that draw the whole picture for you. If AI datasets were tools, then artists would also be tools. Artists aren’t tools.

Q: AI Art isn’t stealing art. It’s just like a collage.

A: I really want you to think about what a collage is versus the kind of art an AI dataset spits out. Are those things the same? Collages are derivative and generally fall under parody law, so long as the person creating them isn’t taking credit for the parts of the collage they didn’t photograph or draw. You cannot sell a collage of other peoples’ work without express written permission from those people. The elements of a collage are each separate and identifiable as such.

AI art is not a collage. The elements of an AI art piece are not separate and identifiable. They are combined into one single piece, where each piece cannot specifically be traced. AI art does not fit the definition of a derivative or parody work.

Q: If someone puts their art on the internet, it’s fair game.

A: Copyright law specifically disagrees with you on this point.

Q: If it’s not a collage and one can’t see the pieces of the art, doesn’t that make it an original work, and therefore, it’s not theft?

A: AI isn’t generating a new image. It’s taking pieces from many originals and “claiming” to make a new original piece. However, AI cannot generate these things without knowing what they are (IE skimming tags and allowing users to tell the AI what’s in the picture) Without the input of original artists, an AI would not be able to create anything, which is why most datasets include millions of pieces of art “scraped” (AKA stolen) from the internet. Currently, these pieces AI makes are being sold, and the owners of the datasets are charging for their use. This means that people who did not actually create the art are being paid, whereas the original artists are not.

Q: AI art can’t replace real artists. You’re fearmongering.

A: AI art has already replaced real artists. Shortly after Kim Jung Ji died, someone fed all his artwork into a dataset and “created” several new pieces that were almost identical to his style. Cosmopolitan magazine released a cover “drawn” by an AI and blatantly stated on the cover “and it only took 20 seconds to make.” A magazine article in The Atlantic used AI art to generate a photo of Alex Jones surrounded by papers. Someone submitted AI generated art to an art contest and won. Several anecdotal stories (not verified, but reliable) on Twitter state that small companies have fired their graphic designers or cut their work force. Commissioned artists have reported dropping sales numbers.

Corporations (and most people) will ALWAYS favor a cheaper option. If it’s good enough, it’s usable. The Cosmo magazine cover and the article header image were TERRIBLE, and they still went to print. Everyone should know by now that corporations will ALWAYS screw people over when they’re able to. If AI art becomes acceptable and commonplace, in-house artists will be replaced. This isn’t theoretical. It is already happening.

Q: It’s going to happen anyway. You can either embrace it or reject it. (Yes, this is real. Someone actually said this to me.)

A: Yes... Exactly. I’m rejecting it. Without laws to protect artists, I will fight AI art whenever and wherever I can. It might be fun and convenient for you, a non-artist, but it is terrifying and heartbreaking for artists. Websites like Deviantart and Clip Studio Paint who said “well it’s going to happen anyway” should have been the first line of defense against the creep of AI art, but they failed. It can only take over if people let it. Stop letting it.

#AI art #not bestiary

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howlingdemon13 · 8 months ago

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You could use a buddy~!

Guys, you have no idea how happy I am that this is complete! You know I'm gonna be supper obnoxious now that I can turn into a demonic ghost with mommy issues. 🤪 Anyway, some notes and thoughts on this cosplay that no one asked for and no one wants~!

First and foremost, this cosplay is sort of a clonesona. I feel like (if given the chance), Beetlejuice would play around with how his clones look. Obviously on stage it’s impossible to find actors who look identical to the lead, but I like that the fandom has embraced BJ being unable/unwilling to create clones that are a 100% physical match. If that’s the case, I’m sure he throws in a more fem-presenting clone once in a while.

This doubles as a feminine-presenting form for Beetlejuice himself, too (Toonjuice has no issue changing his gender presentation at will in a bunch of scenarios, and I like to think that Musicaljuice would be the same/similar). I guess a version of Beetlejuice that’s female would be fun, but I prefer the idea of BJ shapeshifting to look and present the way he wants to (or to have fun with unsuspecting victims).

Even from the early development of this cosplay all the way back in October, choosing between a dress and a suit was like pulling teeth. I love the suit an unhealthy amount, but I wanted something distinct from other interpretations. That, and I was hesitant to lean into the hyper-sexualized looks I’ve seen from officially licensed offshoots of the character. Beetlejuice, while a self-proclaimed sexual being, doesn’t read as the kind of entity to go from generally masc-presenting all the way to hyper-sexual fem-presenting. Also, where the hell is the grime on all these fem designs???? Why does she look clean? Cowards!

I think BJ would settle on a fem-presenting form in a suit, but I also think he’s just as comfortable in a dress regardless of the pronouns/physical characteristics he’s using at any given moment. He likes his dresses and we love him for it.

Anyway-

I wanted a dress that felt “old” but not dated,so I settled on a shirt dress. They came about in the 1920’s, but didn’t become super popular until the 50’s. The cut of Beetlejuice’s suit is somewhere between modern and a style that would have been popular in the 50’s, too.

I also think shirt dresses are pretty “neutral” in that they aren’t form-fitting and they read more like a shirt from the waist up. I didn’t want anything dainty, but I wanted some movement to the fabric, and a dress does that a bit better than a suit imo. It’s why I love Beetlejuice’s first 15 minutes on stage in the trench coat. I know it’s a callback to when we first see him in the movie, but it adds a ton of secondary movement and looks cartoony when coupled with very exaggerated movements typical of a stage show. It’s why I love watching Collette especially bounce around on stage because istg he knows this (or that him growing up with the cartoon make him really lean into over the top body language and the trench coat just adds to it).

Like, look at that! Are you seeing what I’m saying? If I could animate, that would be a dream shot!

Oops, can’t go 15 minutes without thinking of the silly.

All that is to say that movement and form in an outfit, especially one for a character as chaotic as Beetlejuice, was super important to me. It’s also why I settled on long, curly hair, kept the tie, and added a bow. All of that breaks up patterns, adds movement, and is something I can put moss on. Anyway, this cosplay has a lot of little nods to the musical, cartoon, and film (but is mostly based off of the musical).

Cartoon: bugs!! Toonjuice is sometimes seen with small beetles chilling on his suit (which he inevitably snacks on). I love the idea of Beej being covered in bugs, so I felt compelled to include them on the dress and hat. It's a subtle reference, but one that I really wanted. They’re made out of scrap polymer clay and painted. Here are a few:

Film: The guide hat! It's iconic. I know that the hat made it into very early versions of the musical and promotional materials, but how it got thrown by the wayside is beyond me.

Musical: the grime and disrepair! I was heavily inspired by an early suit that is absolutely covered in moss!

I also added a lot of grime to the shoulders and hem as a callback to later versions of the suit and especially the tour version of it. I also added some x stitches since I really like the way they look on the current tour suit!

Oh, and the banjolele! Can't forget my favorite prop!

Miscellaneous: I love giving supernatural characters pointy ears and fangs, so you best believe I’m going to do the same for BJ. Slightly related, but I love the tour makeup so much. The makeup artists really lean into Beetlejuice being corpsey and I’m here for it (I essentially combine the tour and film makeup to get the look I’m after).

Oh! And snap bracelets! I remember hardcore stimming with these as a kid to the point of destroying them (then it was goodbye snap bracelets), and you cannot tell me Beetlejuice, neurodivergent-coded demon ghost, wouldn’t be the same way. Full disclosure, I had to wrap them around metal bands because these snaps are rubber and the texture is a nightmare for me, but I was determined to include them. They’re also a substitute for Beetlejuice’s watches in the film.

God/Satan, that was a lot of rambling. If you survived all that, thanks for reading!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice cosplay #cosplay #howie’s cosplay

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m4ndysk4nkovich · 10 months ago

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Something that always frustrates me with people who bring up Fiona raising the kids is they ignore how the kids also had to help pay for everything in the house and take care of their siblings. Like all of them were expected to contribute. You straight up see that Debbie was running her own day care while Fiona slept upstairs. And when Fiona had to pay their property tax she gambled that money away on a club party and Lip had to work overtime getting the money together.

I’m not saying she didn’t try her best with them but Fiona Stans have this way of forgetting all of the problems of the other kids

exactly, anon!

i remember in an interview, emma kenney referred to the gallagher house as kind of a “every man for himself” type thing, and while i don’t necessarily agree with that because they did all support each other, it wasn’t the way a lot of people paint it to be. it wasn’t fiona doing it all as she claims to, they all did it- fiona did the most, but not everything. lip tutored, ian worked at the kash and grab, debbie ran her daycare, carl helped at said daycare- they all worked.

fiona was not good with money. that’s something i believe and i know others may not agree, but i stand by it. she didn’t have school smarts, and while she had street smarts, she still wasn’t great with money. she gambled with it a lot and also just made a lot of poor choices in general. that’s why i kind of cringed when i saw her buying the laundromat and apartment complex. and to an extent i understand, i feel like a lot of people who grew up poor don’t really know what to do when they receive money (myself included), but still. she definitely tried her best but when you’re raising five kids and money’s so extremely tight you cannot gamble with money like that- especially if you aren’t the only one earning it.

that kind of makes me think about why i agreed with fiona’s decision to make debbie have the house in her name. i actually talked to @lovekenney about this once, but debbie was the best option because lip was busy enough with tami, fred, and trying to manage his sobriety, ian was incarcerated, and carl and liam were too young. debbie actually was good with money (for the most part). like you said, she ran that daycare and also she managed to pull of so many scams successfully. she may be a drop out and may make shitty decisions, but she’s extremely smart.

fiona did a lot, and it should be discussed and she does deserve credit and praise for it, but i wish people would discuss what the other siblings did because they did a lot (especially lip, ian, and debbie).

#shameless #anon ask #fiona gallagher #lip gallagher #ian gallagher #debbie gallagher #carl gallagher #shameless meta

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ashiemochi · 2 years ago

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tangerines and oranges - lsk

✠ tangerines and oranges ↳ don't they both taste the same? ➶pairing: ID! Leon S Kennedy x (FEM) Reader ➶genre: angst to fluff ➶Content includes: contemplating suicide, mild mention of sex, super old writing like this shit was written in 2018, some won't make sense and that's okay, might find her/she pronouns instead of you bc my proofreading skills are dogshit <3 ➶WC: 1.9k A/N: short and sweet blurb whilst I work on the smut one!! shouldn't take too long - might post it tomorrow <3

The kettle softly whistled in the background, the sound echoing in the kitchen where you sat. Today was probably one the worst day you had ever gone through. Time itself seemed so slow, stretching ever so widely just to irritate you. It was like nature as a whole was against you just for shits and giggles.

Even the thought of hiring a hitman to take care of you had crossed your mind; just a quick and silent death. You wouldn’t mind seeing God or burning in Hell if it meant you could leave Earth for a bit. You wondered why you were even breathing in the first place.

You didn’t sign up for this Life thing.

Your tired eyes blinked lazily at the tiny eight-legged-demon-from-Hell, unfazed as it just used its freaky long legs to walk along the counter. You would’ve screamed bloody murder, packed your bags, ran out of the flat, and burned it down.

But you didn’t.

Tilting your head slightly at it, your dead eyes bore at it. A question ran through your mind. Was it poisonous, you wondered?

Finally, your mind seemed to slowly rewind everything that happened today.

Your alarm clock decided to give you the middle finger and not ring like it was supposed to, causing you to miss the train to your job. Your stomach continued making grumbling sounds, incredibly disappointed with the fact that it didn’t get its breakfast nor did you have the money to buy lunch.

Your clumsy co-worker had tripped over his shoelaces again, causing your papers to get showered with coffee. Your boss almost popped a vein at how the logo you designed looked more like a tangerine than an orange; you didn’t even get the chance to remind him that they both look the same. While printing out a paper, the printer decided to swallow the paper to oblivion with a big fuck you.

One of your clients was a dick wad of a boomer who has the tendency to remind you each day that technology is killing the environment but then requests another digital painting of his dog.

You lost count of how many times he had requested the same painting of the same dog. Later you learned that he can be forgetful. Hence the constant reminders of how the very evil technology is killing the very innocent generation.

You had forgotten that you had a presentation today and ended up getting scolded by your uptight boss in front of all of your co-workers. That resulted in extra work and a late-night shift.

You wondered if the clumsy co-worker had cursed you since when you got your cup of coffee, you accidentally hit it, sending it all over your clothes.

At night, after everyone had left to go to their warm and lovely homes, you had to stay in the office with your boss and his wife.

Even your headphones couldn’t block out the disgusting, lips-smacking, and probably even skin, noises. You could swear that they would repopulate Earth worldwide if they would stop using condoms.

Your sister called you, telling you that your parents aren’t going to be able to attend this year’s Christmas. You had to redesign the logo again and show it to your boss, who was, unfortunately, three inches deep into his wife when you opened the door.

At that moment in your life, you deeply wished that God would bleach out your eyes or miraculously make you blind.

And God answered your prayer; by making you accidentally set a heavy file on your specs. You cringed visibly at the cracking sound.

Hoping you’d catch the train before the weather would decide to give you a middle finger; you got caught under the heavy rain that soaked you to the bone, making you look like a street rat.

Curse the weather and its indecisiveness.

By the time you had gotten home, your stomach was beginning to ache for food, almost internally stabbing itself.

And there you were, sitting on the counter with your damp sweater and messy, wet hair. Blinking once more, the eight-legged monstrosity had vanished. The memory itself of the day made your body’s function slow even more, making you slump slightly.

Tomorrow was another day and you still had work to do.

Feeling very overwhelmed, your vision blurred with tears behind your cracked specs. Taking in a trembling breath, you brought your hand up to run it through your knotted hair. You winced slightly at a new forming bruise on the back of your head that you had gotten when your head hit the door on your hurried way out of your boss’s office.

The entire universe was against you at this point.

You let out a shaky sigh, hoping that taking deep breaths would assist you with containing your tears, but even that was failing. Oh, how you wished you could just vanish to the ends of the universe.

The sound of keys jiggling and the front door opening caused your heart to skip a beat. His deep and loving voice reached your ears in a floating melody.

You wanted to greet him, but feeling your body aching and it might as well be dead; you just sat there on the counter.

“Y/N, I'm home.”

The lump in your throat would be a dead giveaway if you even utter a simple letter, but then you heard his footsteps getting closer to the lit kitchen. You barely looked at him when he made his presence known.

His smile dropped as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

Your once soft orange-coloured knitted sweater now had a big dark brown stain. Your black skirt had smears and dots of what seemed like a correction pen. Both of your socks were intact and well, but your left sock wasn’t even attached to your inner belt, making it fall and roll beneath your knee while the other was all the way up your thigh.

Your hair might as well be a birds’ nest and your face was just tired. Not only did that make him worry, but the tears behind your broken specs were now threatening to escape.

“Y/N?” Leon questioned, getting worried by the second.

You only sniffled, taking a deep breath before letting out a small but tight hi, whilst casting your eyes away.

His brows furrowed as he walked into the kitchen, making his way to the counter to put the white plastic bag that he was holding. He seemed as if he was quietly waiting for you to speak out but taking notice of how hard you were gripping the edge of the counter to the point your knuckles would resemble the white of the snow, he knew you were holding back.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

You could hear the worry oozing from his lips as he moved towards you, trying to take a good look at your face. Your shoulders slightly shrugged as your teeth bit down onto the bottom of your lips, setting your eyes on the kettle.

You didn’t feel like talking at all, only praying that you would get sniped out of this God-awful day. His hips settled between your legs and your tears were just teasing you at this point when his big hands gently cupped your cheeks, making your eyes meet.

His azures immediately softened when he saw the broken and exhausted look etched on your face. A frown reached his lips when he noticed the lightening shape of the cracks in your specs and with the tips of his fingers; he gently removed them, giving him a clear look at your eyes.

You cussed internally when a tear rolled down your cheek, betraying you.

“Honey, did something happen?" Leon asked softly, as if afraid he'd break her, "Why are you crying?”

Your bottom lip trembled as the lump in your throat was getting heavier to swallow. Finally, you looked at him behind the thick walls of your tears and your cheeks flushed red at the close proximity.

“Today sucked so... Fucking bad...” You uttered weakly, your voice seemed to be tight and squeezed.

Leon blinked at this and you broke down, allowing your tears to run freely down your reddened cheeks. Without even hesitating, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to his embrace.

Your cries were weak and small but filled and etched with pain as your fingers gripped the back of his blue suit jacket. Ever so slowly, his fingers tangled your hair between them, lightly pushing you closer to him.

It seemed like an eternity just being in his arms but you felt incredibly safe and invisible to the world. For once, all your bottled-up emotions for this day were poured through your tears. Even when your tears had stopped, only leaving behind a heaving chest with minor hiccups, you still stayed in his embrace.

“You ready to talk about it?” The richness in his voice made your body almost melt against his warmth.

Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you ever so slightly nodded, letting out a small hum. You stayed like this for a good few seconds before pulling away slightly.

His blueblue orbs were filled with love as he gave you a gentle smile, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He leaned in, pressing a lingering and loving kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, the kettle began whistling loudly and both of them looked at it. Leon moved away to turn the stove off and he noticed a mug with the chocolate and milk powder jars and a small cup with a teaspoon beside it.

“Hot chocolate?” He questioned, looking at you from over his shoulders.

You nodded silently, using your sleeves to wipe away the remaining of your tears as you sniffled quietly.

He hummed, opening the cupboard as he asked, “How about you change and I’ll make us hot chocolate?”

You looked at him, “Aren’t you tired from today’s training?” She asked, already feeling needy.

Leon took out his favourite mug, “Not really,” He shrugged, “And no.”

Leon ended it, sternly before setting his eyes on you, “You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. Never was and never will be.”

It’s like he had read your mind as he returned to the task at hand.

“You had a bad day with your uptight boss, and I’m guessing that coffee stain is by your clumsy co-worker.”

You looked down at your sweater as if you had just realized it was there before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Ah, no... It was me this time.” You admitted, softly and he let out a sound of amusement, stirring the hot drink of Heaven as he turned around to look at you.

“Seems like he’s rubbing off on you.”

“Oh, shut up...” You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless.

His chest rumbled a bit with his chuckle as you jumped down to the ground. Wrapping your arms around his slim waist, you gazed up at him with such adoration in your eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” You sighed dreamily and he stared into the distance, pretending to think deeply about your question.

“Huh, I don’t know, care to remind me?” Leon looked down at you, slightly bumping his nose against yours.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his grin when you got flustered. Pressing a peck on your lips, Leon gestured to the corridor.

“Go change. I feel like your boss did something incredibly stupid today.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you don’t even know...”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy #dbd fanfic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil memes #dbd memes #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut

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the-dreamers-hotel · 2 months ago

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We are stepping on others to better ourselves.

I am absolutely begging LGBTQ+ folk to educate themselves on marginalised communities in general. You are not absolved of racism or ableism or transphobia or even homophobia just because you are LGBTQ+. You are certainly not immune to engaging in it unconsciously either, if you refuse to unlearn what the system forces on us.

Understanding intersectionality is absolutely key for queer liberation. But even more importantly, everyone must understand where their own oppression and sometimes advantageous traits affect them – such as living without disabilities, white, cisgender or even just having access to HRT, Good healthcare etc etc. There is an individual responsibility to educate and proactively and openly dismantle the tools of oppressing classes before proclaiming their opinions and thoughts on another member of the community.

If you believe that transmasculine or transmen do not face oppression based on their gender identity, then you are playing into the hands that beat you. We are our identities, and would like it if you didn’t erase that actually. In fact, maybe don’t play into the ideology that forces cisgender young men into Andrew Tate’s ilk either? You can criticise toxic behaviour without condemning all men and masculine people to death.

Not only do transmen and transmasculine people face oppression for their identity - which in itself is radically against the system quo and so the patriarchy justifies harassment - but should they have other marginalised identities, it adds to their oppression. Something a lot of this community seem to forget.

By blurting out buzzwords and barely thought-out opinions like “transmascs are privileged” or “transmen are men too and aid the patriarchy” you assist in so many deaths and so much abuse. Painting transmen and transmasculine people as toxic by default and including us in the group who want us dead as well, you make us invisible. You aid in our deaths and eradication.

Identifying as masculine or male and even passing and presenting as such does not remove the oppression experienced as someone AFAB – nor does it remove additional inequalities such as racial, sectarian/semitic, income based, sexual orientation based, and hell, homophobia.

I saw a post claiming transmen/transmasc folk on T have lost their right to be scared walking home at night. Not only do cisgender men have cause for fear during the night but to assume that “passing” somehow removes the intentions of those wishing harm on someone is absurd.

Transmasc/Transmen are treated as if they can only be men and nothing else – that this masculinity removes all other oppressive traits and it is assumed that they pass always too. Are we forgetting the subtle trained behaviour that some of us were not raised with? The conversation topics that could out us? That some of us aren’t skinny, white, and hyper masculine? Some of us are non-binary? Some of us reject conformity even as men? The fact that some of us are in mlm relationships? Hell, some of us have trans partners and that in itself can result in harm to us?

I don’t understand how you can believe a transmasc person or transman is only ever privileged.

Be outspoken to all transphobia, homophobia, racism, and misogyny – but do not deceive yourself that you are not partaking in it when you make these comments.

Stop lying to yourself. Do better.

Compassion & Comradery,

TDH.

#very ranty #transgender #transmasc #transman #transandrophobia #transmisandry #you are transphobic actually #none of us are free until all of us are free #The Dreamer's Hotel

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wardenparker · 2 years ago

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The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 5

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila💖✨

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 7.9k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.** Generic bashing of Patrick Jane, lots of guilt and self-flagellation in the inner monologues. Summary: As the stress starts to pile up, there is some serious conversation to be had between two people who have notorious trouble communicating. Notes: Every step forward these two take just leaves me a little more in love with them.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

The day ends up being excruciatingly long. Taking the daguerreotypes back to your lab doesn't reveal anything much at first besides the fact that they were very improperly stored for many years, but over the course of several hours things begin to slowly paint a picture - so to speak. When your eyes start to feel crossed, fuzzy, and glossy around eight-thirty that night, you're grateful to see Marcus appear in the laboratory doorway looking run down but thoroughly unaccompanied by the agents from Texas.

"Hey," you hum, suddenly very pleased with yourself for sending an exhausted Silvia home half an hour ago.

“Hey.” Marcus shoves his hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m sorry, I know it’s too late for dinner - we hit a dead end and I just wanted to see you.”

"Why is it too late?" Peeling off your gloves, you toss them in the bin under the far counter as you round your lab table, offering him a hug if he wants one. "If it's because you want to head home and have some alone time, that's fine. But it's not too late for us to have dinner together, if that's what you're thinking."

"To be honest, I don't want to go out." Marcus admits, feeling completely drained from having to deal with the Janes for hours after you had left with the daguerreotypes. They had hit a brick wall and Teresa was obviously worn out from travel and working on the weekend, so Marcus had called it a night. Work could continue tomorrow. "I just want to go home, shower and be lazy."

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Ringing your arms around him, you let him sag against you just to feel the support of someone else being there for him. It’s clear he had a rougher day than you did, and you can completely understand why. “Your place or mine?”

“Would I be completely selfish if I asked to go to my place?” He asks softly. He wants you to see it, to see you there. “We don’t have to, but I will need to get my car.”

“Of course we can go to your place.” You prop your chin on his chest to look up at him and offer him a quiet smile. It’s not a stretch to imagine that he bought a big family-ready house when he got here and is now just puttering around it making little improvements until he has someone to share it with. It nearly brings tears to your eyes to think you could actually get to be that person again. “If you want to give me your address I’ll just stop over at my apartment to grab some clothes for tomorrow and meet you there?”

“Okay.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Maybe we should exchange numbers. Since we didn’t get around to it yesterday.” He jokes with a smirk.

“We got a little…swept up in things.” And you aren’t sorry about it for one single second, but you do take your phone out of your pocket to hand to him.

Marcus hums, smirking at your trusting him with your phone as he opens the messages and sends himself one. Unable to stop himself from messing with you.

To: 202-867-5309: ‘Hey baby, it’s me. I cannot tell you how GREAT last night was. Easily the best I’ve ever had.’

He hits send and pulls out his phone when it dings and grins. “Awwww, thanks babe.” He jokes with a wink as he hands the phone back to you and starts sending you his address.

"What...?" You look down at your phone, seeing the text he sent himself, and burst out in a fit of giggles. "It was, though." You have to admit that. "Definitely top five. I'm not really sure anything can top our wedding night, though."

“That was a good night.” Marcus smirks and shakes his head. “Although I’m not twenty anymore and I don’t know if I can move that way.”

“We were young and very limber.” And as energetic as you had both been that night in the hotel room after leaving the backyard wedding his parents had hosted, it had all been lovemaking. Every second of intimacy is infused with the promise of a lifetime of support and affection.

“I knew you’d have a house,” you grin at seeing his address pop up in your phone screen. “You were never an apartment guy even when that was all we could afford.”

Marcus pout. “I had a condo in Austin, I’ll have you know.” He tells you dramatically before he shuffles slightly. “I, uh— I bought it when I thought—” He breaks off and sighs. “When I thought Teresa was following me out here. Because at the time, housing was insane - so I jumped on it.”

“And I’m sure it will be perfect for whatever life brings next.” As determined as you are for that to include you, Marcus is in charge of his own life. And until you are able to sit down and have a real conversation about the future, you aren’t going to suppose anything at all.

Part of him wants to jump the gun, to open his mouth and make plans with you. But he had driven you away with that so he just hums. “I’ve got to get an Uber home. Unless….” He gives you a small smile. “You wanna give a guy a ride home?”

“Come on.” The smile on your face softens, spreading into a wide grin as you offer him your hand. “We’ll stop by my place on the way to yours.” The note of hope in your voice is unmistakable, but you don’t even mind. “Maybe I’ll pack a couple of clean things? If you want me to stay more than one night, I mean…”

Marcus takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezes it gently. “That will be good. Makes sense so we don't have to get up early if we don’t have to.” He’s not going to push, but if you’re offering, he’s going to take whatever you give him.

“So…” you glance up at him as the two of you walk out of your building together, out to the parking lot where your Mini waits. “Teresa seems nice. When she’s away from Patrick, anyway.”

“Teresa is…independent.” Marcus concedes. “And unfortunately, played her cards close to her chest. I had a thought that Jane might be an issue - especially when he showed up at her house one night and seemed surprised I was there, but I shook it off as being ridiculous.”

“Ever the optimist.” You can’t fault him for it. Not really. His ability to see the silver line in anything is one of the things you always loved about him.

“Yeah.” Sometimes that optimism seems like a curse and he shakes his head. He had taken his shot and had been honest - to a point - and it just hadn’t worked out.

“So what do you want to do about dinner?” There is something - a doubt - in his voice that you don’t like, so you change the subject quickly.

“I have some stuff at the house or we can order something.” Marcus tells you, wondering if he shouldn’t just take you out like he promised. “If you want to go out, we can.” It’s something he does, sacrificing his own wants for someone else, and it’s just natural at this point.

“No, baby. You wanted to stay in.” You’re not going to take his comfort from him, that would be a shitty thing to do. “We worked all day. Let’s have something delivered when we get to your place. Chinese? Pizza?”

“Whatever you want. I honestly don’t have any preference.” He just wants a shower and a comfortable pair of sweats to lounge in.

“Chinese, then?” An order of kung pao chicken and lo mein were always his go to when class or work has been particularly hard, and you squeeze his hand gently. “I’ll even share my crab rangoon.”

“What did I do to deserve that?” You were horribly possessive over the creamy wontons. To the point you had smacked his hand the last time he tried to steal one and really got mad at him.

“I have grown as a person,” you tease, sighing slightly as you step outside and the crisp fall air hits your senses. If you’re ever lucky enough to stand up with him again - like that wonderfully vivid dream you had last night - you’ll even put it in your vows if it proves to him that you’ve changed. “I love you more than crab rangoon, Marcus Pike.”

He can’t help but bark out a laugh, tossing his head back and making it a full belly laugh. Enjoying the ease of the moment and the spontaneously funny comment. “That proves it.” He promises as he tugs you closer with your joined hand and cups your cheek. “You love me more than crab rangoon, huh?”

“Yeah.” In the chilly air he radiates heat, and you let yourself be reeled in against him without hesitation. “I absolutely do.”

“I’m gonna need that in writing.” He teases. “For when you are looking to stab me with a chopstick.”

“When we get home I’ll write it out and you can hang the framed note in the living room as proof.” You love him more than anything and it has taken walking away to realize that. But the sidewalk outside your office isn’t the place for that discussion.

“Bribery.” Marcus jokes, not mentioning that you are calling it home, like it’s where you two live together. He swallows down the butterflies in his stomach, knowing it could just be a turn of speech. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Evidence.” Leaning in to press your lips to his, you let the kiss linger for a few seconds before pulling away. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Marcus dutifully follows you to your car and climbs in after opening your door for you again. He groans slightly as he closes the door and starts to put his seatbelt on. "Your house and then mine." He sighs, exhausted from the day and the mental fortitude it took to deal with Jane. He honestly doesn't see how Teresa did it every day.

t doesn’t take long - under an hour - to get everything accomplished, and Marcus orders your dinner from DoorDash on the drive between your places so that by the time you pull up in front of his white-picket-fence-American-dream picturesque house in The Palisades, all you have to do for the rest of the night is relax.

The house is adorable: classic Victorian with fresh white paint with blue shutters in the windows and a little front lawn, with the whole property fenced in in a way that says the last owners definitely had a dog. It’s exactly the kind of place you can see him happily raising his kids and doing yard work on the weekends, even tossing a tennis ball or frisbee for the pup. It’s classic Americana - and classic Marcus.

Marcus fidgets slightly, aware that you are judging. Perhaps not in any negative kind of way, but he had explicitly told you what kind of home he wanted when the two of you were dreaming as teenagers, the kids you had been. This was it, and he feels surprisingly vulnerable. His car is in the garage and he gives a careless shrug. “This is it.”

You reach for his hand once you’re out of the car, offering him a smile. “I love it,” you promise him.

He gives you a small smile and walks up to the door, rolling his eyes when he sees the mailbox stuff full. “Gone one night.” He huffs, letting go of your hand to unlock the door and grab the mail.

“All the best junk mail that Washington DC has to offer.” Inside, you follow Marcus as he deposits your bag and the mail on a side table in the hallway, then into the kitchen to grab drinks and chopsticks before dinner arrives. Take out in front of a movie would have been a classic Saturday night for the two of you years ago, and it’s a comforting ritual to return to.

Marcus sets everything out and kicks off his shoes. “I guess a tour is in order?” He offers.

“You have a little bit more to show than I did,” you joke, trying to lighten the load that the day has left on his shoulders.

“You know me, too many plans.” He smiles weakly and rubs his hands together. “It’s got a basement, but I’m sure you don’t want to go down there.”

“Show me everything.” In the most hopeful and optimistic part of your mind, you are already wondering what it would feel like to come home to this house. To drop your keys and purse on that side table and be greeted by those kids or that dog he always dreamed of. “Even the scary basement. I-I want to see it all.”

“Okay.” He gestures around the kitchen. “This is the kitchen, it was renovated, but I want to add an outdoor kitchen for when the weather is nice.” He admits. “It looks out over the backyard, so it’ll be like an extension of the kitchen itself.”

“The fact that you even have a backyard in D.C. is impressive.” Visions of the backyard barbecues his parents used to throw, dance through your mind and you grin. “Taking a page out of your dad’s book, huh?”

“I guess.” He can’t help but smirk slightly. “He did teach me to use a grill.”

“The perfect way to celebrate good weather is with a cookout. You know I believe that.” God that smile. With his dimple on display he really does look every bit as boyish as the night you met.

“Yeah, I remember that shitty little charcoal grill we had on the balcony of our apartment.” It’s the first time he’s mentioned living together and he hums slightly. “The entire apartment would smell like burgers.” They had been broke and couldn’t afford steak or much else, but it had been fun.

“I bet you never had a housewarming party. Even after you made friends at work.” Your free hand sits comfortably on his waist and you hug him ever so gently. “A backyard burger party before it gets too cold would be killer.” The grin that graces your lips along with the idea is just a touch devious, though. “I’ll make all the cheesecake you could possibly want.”

“It’s a nice thought.” Marcus muses, imagining a get together over here without the pressures of work or anything hounding them. He takes care of the team by taking them out regularly, but that would be strictly social.

“So.” You nudge him a little and smile again. A little wider this time. “Kitchen and backyard. What’s next?”

“The basement is in here.” He motions to the door that leads down. “Through here. It’s a good size. Perfect for storage.” It’s strange to be giving you this tour but he opens the door and flips on the light.

You're halfway down the stairs when Marcus's phone rings - the unknown number on his caller ID letting you know that your dinner has arrived. "Saved by the bell." you joke, knowing that he fully understands your tendency to be creeped out by smaller, dark spaces. Besides, there's something off right now - something making him uncomfortable - and you're fairly certain it's you. So maybe just having dinner is better.

Marcus chuckles as the two of you turn around and go back upstairs. He knows why he’s slightly unnerved. Seeing three of his ex’s in a room would make any man start to think. And Marcus tends to overthink. You’ve run out on him once, crushing his heart when you insisted on a divorce. Now you’re back, looking at him like you did so many years ago. Seeing Teresa made him remember that feeling when she stayed in Texas, chose another man, it wasn’t even half as bad as you walking out of his life. He honestly doesn’t know if he can risk this again.

Beating Marcus to the front door means you pay the teenager delivering your food, and flash a grin at him as you close the door behind you with the stuffed-full bag of Chinese in your arms. Straight into the living room is where both of you go, plopping down on his comfortable sofa to hand out containers. The thin sheet of cardboard between containers catches your eye, and you pop up quickly to retrieve a marker from your purse - scrawling "I love you more than crab rangoon and will always share my favorite things with you" on the cardboard before coming back to set it in front of Marcus at the coffee table.

Marcus stares at the cardboard for a moment, grinning and huffing at the written declaration. “Cute.” He wrinkles his nose at you and there is a moment where he wants to kiss you, as he steals your crab rangoon. Just to see if you will let him get by with it. But that doubt stops him. “I’m gonna shower before we eat if, that’s okay.” He murmurs, standing up. “Drinks in the fridge, make yourself comfortable, okay?”

"Sure." The complete change in his demeanor from last night to tonight is borderline crushing, but you bite back the disappointment in your reaction and just smile. You don't deserve a second chance. Deep down, you know that. But it was so close last night that you could taste it, and feel it, and there's nothing you can do now but admit how desperately you want it.

Marcus chastises himself as he makes his way upstairs. It doesn’t dawn on him that he grabbed your bag until he is setting it down on his bed. Sighing softly, he looks at the mirror over the dresser. “Just fucking relax.” He tells himself.

Waiting for him to finish is almost interminable, and it's not like Marcus takes extra-long showers or anything. It's just the pure torture of waiting for him to come back and probably tell you that this was all an awful mistake and that you need to leave. Anticipating rejection is like having a knife poised in your gut and just waiting for the twist, but you're not walking out of his life this time without a fight. He would have to look you in the eye and tell you that he felt absolutely nothing for you to get you to even falter.

He feels a lot better after the shower. It’s amazing to him what hot water and clean skin can do for his attitude. Dressing in comfortable grey sweats and an FBI t-shirt, he’s more relaxed as he comes downstairs. Frowning slightly when he sees that you haven’t started digging into the food. “You didn’t find something you wanted to drink?” He asks, sure that there were still a few cans of soda in his admittedly empty fridge.

“I wanted to wait for you.” You tell him honestly, getting up when he appears at the bottom of the stairs. “I…think we should talk while we eat.”

That’s not good. Marcus nods and decides to put it off for just a second longer before you tell him that it was a mistake. “Let me get a drink.” He manages before he walks into the kitchen, that knot of doubt squeezing his guts like a fist.

He comes back a second later with two cans of ginger ale and sets them down, which gives you just enough time to take a deep breath before smiling as reassuringly as you can. “I’m not…really sure how to do this,” you admit, hating how uncertain you sound as you try to set your thoughts in order. When he sits down next to you, you scoot a little closer, afraid of being rejected if you reach for his hand but needing to be next to him. “So I’m just going to put it all out there on the table.” You can do this. Just tell him how you feel. “I love you. I never stopped, honestly. And I know that I’m not exactly in a position to ask for anything, but after seeing you again and especially after last night, I can’t imagine a single version of the rest of my life that doesn’t include you. So I’m asking. I’m asking you to take me back and give me a second chance if you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Walking out was the worst decision I ever made and I will do everything in my power to make it up to you.”

Marcus swallows harshly and his heart leaps up into his throat. They are words he’s wanted to hear for years. Since the day you told him you wanted a divorce. That loving him wasn’t enough. He reaches for your hand, taking it gently. “I- I’ve waited for so long to hear those words.” He admits quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “But—”

“But.” You nod your head slowly, trying not to grip his hand too tightly, waiting for the words to come. For him to say no and tell you that it’s too late and you hurt him too badly. The words you absolutely deserve.

“But part of me wonders if you’ll do it again.” Marcus’s words are quiet, strained. “Because I plan too much or want too much or say the wrong thing and you decide that you don’t want to do it anymore.” He licks his lips. “Today I had three women in the same room who dumped me. And only one of them really shattered my heart.”

“You have every right to doubt me.” Goodness knows you would, if you were in his position. “But I want to make plans with you. All the big plans and little plans you’ve ever had, I’m ready for them.” When you do squeeze his hand, you can’t help but look at the place your wedding rings used to sit, wanting to have them back again. To have his trust again. “I know you want to be married with kids and a beautiful domestic life and I know that I’m the one who put that on hold last time.” Two fingers under his chin tip his eyes up to yours. “My birth control is in the bag I packed. I will throw it in the trash right now.”

Marcus’s eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No.” He rushes out. “I don’t want— I mean I want that but—” he reaches for your other hand and gently pulls it down from his face. “I don’t want having a baby with me or throwing birth control away to be a means of proving anything to me.” He tells you. “I just got a little in my head today.”

“Anybody would have.” The fact that he didn’t say yes to the grand gesture gives you an oddly disappointed feeling in your gut but you push it away. You’ve wanted kids for years now - and your mind’s eye has always unhelpfully made them look a bit like Marcus in your daydreams - so it shouldn’t surprise you. “I’m just…I’m not very good at this.” He was always the articulate one, and you half-laugh in spite of yourself. “Last night you said it was always me for you. Well…it’s always been you for me, too. When I managed to pull my head out of my ass long enough to think, I realized that the world is a damp shade of gray without you in my life. But I figured you would have found someone else already and moved on. So I never let myself look you up.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus is good at apologizing, and he means it right now. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was just- using you for last night. I had hoped to spend the entire day with you. Much differently than we did.” He huffs, flashing you a smile. “I just don’t know if I could handle it if I lost you again.”

“I don’t feel like you used me. I think we just got interrupted, and this conversation would have happened this afternoon instead of tonight.” If anything, your relief at seeing him walk into your office tonight was proof that it was him and not just the sex that you craved. “How or if this happens is entirely up to you. Whether that’s lightning fast or slower than a sloth, or even— even if you decide that you can’t forgive me. But…” You want to kiss him - lips or cheek or hands - anything. But you don’t want to make him feel pressured. “I’m all in. If you decide you want to give us another chance, I’m all in. Communication, planning, big dreams, all of it. I just— I love you so much. And I want to give you everything.”

Marcus swallows, looking into your eyes and he swears that he falls more in love with you. Hearing the words that he needs, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. “I love you.” He promises. “I didn’t - I want this.”

“I know you didn’t.” And you’ll live with that guilt - shame - for the rest of your life. But at least maybe you can fix some of the mistakes you made when you broke his heart. “I will never stop being sorry for what I did, I hope you know that.”

“I just never understood why you insisted we had to divorce.” He admits quietly, needing to talk about the things he hadn’t brought up at the time back then in an effort to be as accommodating as possible.

“It took me years to figure out why I thought like I did.” And when you had that breakthrough, it came along with a personal hatred and depression that lasted for multiple years. Ruining your life over something so obviously flawed was the worst life decision you ever made. The tears in your eyes at this point are pure shame. “I really thought that the options were family or career. That there was no way to do both. And saying it out loud is just…it’s the stupidest I’ve ever felt. If anything, you deserve to be with someone smarter than me.”

Marcus snorts and shakes his head, thinking that’s the most ridiculous thing you could have said. “Baby, you are the smartest person I know.” He promises you, cupping your cheek. “I was the one struggling in school, remember?” He hadn’t been a horrible student. It had just taken more work on his part. “I just wish you had talked to me about it. I would have never made you choose one or the other.”

“I should have talked to you.” You sniffle, very aware of that now-obvious fact. “When my parents got married, my mom gave up her full-time job to work a couple of days a week for barely above minimum wage, and then gave that up to have me and Leah. I had sorority sisters telling me how lucky I was that you were so smart and charismatic because it meant you were going to get a great job and I could stop torturing myself figuring out a career. And my two friends from home who got pregnant young and had to quit their jobs to take care of their kids.” It had felt hopeless at the time. Like drowning without a clue as to how to swim. “I…I didn’t want to disappoint you by loving my job too much or by being a bad mother. And I just…panicked.”

“You would have never disappointed me. And I don’t think you would have been a bad mother.” Marcus reaches out and caresses your cheek. “Baby if you had told me that you decided you didn’t want kids, I wouldn’t have forced you to. I would have needed time to get used to the idea. But I never wanted a forced family. Who knows?” He shoots you a small grin. “I might be shooting blanks from that time you kneed me in the nuts.”

“I was very drunk and slipped on my Halloween costume. It wasn't my fault!” You protest immediately, breaking into giggles at the memory of that night. You’d sobered up fast and had babied him for days in apology. “I was scared of what growing up and having a future meant, honey.” Leaning into his touch is safe. It’s comforting. It’s home. “I didn’t find out until it was too late that I didn’t want a future that didn’t include you.” The explanation feels like far too little too late, and extraordinarily dumb to boot, but he deserves the truth. No matter how awful it makes you feel. “By the time I got around to figuring out that I really do want to be a mother, I had lost the guy whose kids I wanted to have. And it was my own fault.”

“And I don’t want you to think that I can’t compromise.” He wishes you had this conversation twelve years ago. Maybe it wouldn’t have been this way. Maybe it would have been the house you bought together and there would already be kids. But he doesn’t want to dwell on that. “Why don’t we eat, hmm?” He asks. “We can still talk, we should talk.”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling like an idiot no matter how reassuring he is. But the container of crab rangoon sits squarely in between you and you have no intention of moving it. “I don’t know what would have happened if we had talked then, but I know you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I don’t want you to continuously apologize either.” Marcus grins and reaches for the container. “Honestly, maybe some couples counseling? If you want and feel like it would be good.”

“Absolutely.” You nod. You would agree to almost anything to have him back in your life - but that actually sounds productive regardless. Therapy has done wonders for your life over the years. “Getting some communication tools can only be a good thing.”

“I agree.” He opens the container and smirks at you, feeling better now that he’s expressed what he’s feeling. “Now, what were you saying about sharing the crab rangoon?”

“That you should absolutely have some.” He can have the whole thing if he really wants. Anything as long as it makes him happy. “All the rangoons and dreams you want.”

He shakes his head and picks one up to feed it to you. “Shouldn’t just be my dreams.”

It’s a sweet gesture, intimate without being sexual, and you savor the moment for what it is. “How about we share, then?” Your offer when you finish chewing. “Food. Dreams. All that good stuff?”

“Compromise.” Marcus smiles at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “I like that.” He pops the rest of the rangoon you had taken a bite of into his own mouth.

“Not our strong suit historically, so I think it will be a good place to start.” It’s a fact, and you’re not going to start hiding behind those now after everything. “Should we start big or small?”

“What do you mean?” He asks curiously.

“Like do you want to talk about how many kids we want and what kind of second wedding we’ll have, or do you want to stick to thinking about what kind of nice date we’ll go on when this case is closed?” As far as you’re concerned, the future holds all of those things, so you don’t mind dreaming about all of it.

“I don’t want to rush you.” Marcus protests slightly. “It’s been a long time. Those rose-colored memories might not live up to reality.” He wants to plan with you but he also doesn’t want you to be disappointed by him as the man he’s become without you.

“We can dream a little without having to pin everything down.” That’s something else you were never very good at - taking his random comments about thinking a shirt at the mall was nice as meaning he desperately wanted it or his musings about maybe rearranging the living room in the old apartment as your cue to completely redecorate. “But we can also keep it small until you’re comfortable talking about more long-term things. I mean it, love. I’m all in, if you want me. So we can do this at your pace.”

Marcus snorts, shaking his head. “That’s my line, sweetheart.” He reminds you. He’s always been the one jumping in too fast. Hell, he’d proposed both times without there being any thought in his head beyond wanting to be with them forever. The last proposal had been in a hallway at the Austin field office.

“I know.” Your head bobbles a little as you reach for one of the creamy fried wontons in the box between you. “But on top of it being the truth, I also wonder when the last time was that you had a partner that gave you a little romance of your own.”

Marcus is a giver. Always putting others first and taking care of the people around him, wanting them to have everything they could want or need even at the expense of his own desires. Even you had been guilty of taking his immense good nature for granted once in a while. But never again.

His brow wings up and he contemplates the question. “Hell, I don’t even know.” Marcus shrugs slightly. “Never really thought about it.”

"It seems about time that changed, my love." He deserves to be treated as well as he treats everyone else, and you're going to see to it that from now on, he is.

“So on a scale of one to the Addams family, how weird was today?” He asks with a slightly amused smile on his face.

"Don't you dare besmirch the names of Gomez and Morticia Addams by comparing them to Patrick and Teresa Jane," you snicker, shaking your head as the two of you settle in to eat in earnest. "Honestly, Agent Jane isn't so bad. It's her narcissistic husband that I can't stand."

“You noticed that too, huh?” He asks, shaking his head and humming as he picks up another crab rangoon.

"He might as well walk around in a t-shirt that says 'I <3 Myself'." And he would have bought it for himself, too. That's the kicker.

That makes him laugh. “Has to be underneath those suits.” He jokes. “Who wears a vest nowadays? MBA wielding salesman assholes and former con-artists, apparently.”

"No." Your eyes go a little wide and you laugh in disbelief, with your fork stopped halfway to your mouth. "Is he seriously a con man? That makes so much sense."

“Yeah. He grew up in the traveling carnival, or circus scene.” He tells you. “Incredibly observant and used it to claim he was psychic. Until…” Marcus frowns slightly, hating that anyone - even Patrick Jane - went through that kind of pain. “Red John killed his wife and daughter. His first wife, that is. That’s how he came to the FBI - by way of Teresa when she was at the CBI.”

"Red John?" It takes you a second, rolling back through the index of names and random facts in your head, before you tilt your head at him in surprise. "The serial killer? Well shit."

“Patrick Jane killed Red John.” Marcus doesn’t blame him for that. He would have done the same if it had been him.

"Shit." You shiver a little, not out of discomfort with Patrick Jane killing someone, but just at the fact of it. "I guess...remind me not to piss off Jane, then."

He chuckles and reaches out to spear a piece of your broccoli. “Actually I don’t think Patrick would ever kill someone else. Unless something happened to Teresa. Which, as much as I don’t like him, I understand.”

"Well, he just rose from boring and annoying to weirdly interesting but still an asshole in my books, so I guess that's something?" When he holds his container out to you in return you snag a piece of chicken and grin.

“You love General Tso’s but would never order it, always eating mine.” He pretends to pout but he loves this. He’s missed it. “Although I don’t think we ever ate Thai together.”

“It never sounds like the best option but it always looks so good.” He’s smiling - honestly smiling - and it really does ease your tired heart. “Do you want to pick a Thai place for the next time we go out? Or hell, even the next time we order in?”

“We could do that.” Marcus agrees to that readily, liking the idea. “I think we deserve a proper date again, don’t you? You and me going out and having fun together? Would you like that?”

“I’d love that.” Even thinking about it makes your cheeks burn a little and your smile grow. “What else would you want to do that night?”

Marcus hums thoughtfully, aware that you are happy with the idea. "Wellllllll, I am hoping to go home with the most gorgeous woman there. So there's that." He teases playfully, offering you another bite of his chicken.

“Oh yeah?” The giddy flip in your stomach comes with a hum, and you accept the bite happily. “I mean, if she is who I think she is, I can guarantee it.”

"Yeah? You can guarantee that?" There had always been a lot of fun teasing and jokes between the two of you. The relationship had been, in his mind - magical, until the day it wasn't. "I hope so." He goes on. "I remember the first time I met her, I swear I fell in love then."

“You fell in love with cheap tequila and a tight t-shirt?” Just because you remember every second of that night doesn’t mean you don’t love to hear Marcus reminisce, and take a sip from your soda can to hide a happy sigh. “I bet she fell in love right then, too.”

"I fell in love with a gorgeous pair of eyes and the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard." He leans in to kiss you softly before he winks at you. "Didn't hurt that she was hot enough that I shared the good booze with her."

“There were a lot of body shots that night.” You practically snort at how very stereotypical that part of the night was - flirting in his room at the frat house and letting yourselves get completely caught up in the delicious feeling of wanting that comes with new love when you’re extremely horny young adults.

"Yes there were." Marcus can't even hide his reaction to that, not that he would. Not from you. But just talking about that night has him hardening. "You really liked having the salt licked off your nipples if I remember right."

“I had the hottest guy I’ve ever seen sucking on my tits.” You point out, smirking a little at the memory. “Of course I liked it.”

"I mean, they're great tits." Marcus's grin gets a little wider. "And I was just a horny teenager. A beautiful girl is gonna let me drink tequila off her body and lick her tits, who am I to stop her?"

"I would have rioted if someone tried to stop us." You laugh again, shaking your head as you both beam at each other. "There was no way I wasn't spending the night with you once I realized you were interested."

"And I don't think there were many nights you didn't spend with me after that." Marcus grins as he picks up another piece of chicken. This time for himself.

"I'm just lucky that your brothers liked me," you muse, thinking of the way his frat brothers had basically treated you as a little sister once they saw how inseparable you and Marcus were. "I showed up for one damn party and then never really left."

"They didn't have any issue with you, unless we were having sex." He snickers, remembering all the times the door had been beat on for being too loud.

"Which was a lot." And you would never apologize for that - not even then.

"They didn't give you a stuffed bunny because they thought it was cute." He jokes.

"Aww, really?" You feign innocence, even though you both know that at the time you had cracked up laughing over the fucking like bunnies joke. "And here I thought they just found me adorable."

He snorts, leaning in against you. "They were all surprised that we didn't end up with an accident." He admits.

"My sisters were too." The other girls in your sorority had practically made up a list of baby names at one point. "They even had a baby shower theme picked out."

"I didn't know that." Marcus shakes his head, amused at how certain your college friends were that you were going to have kids and here you are so many years later and none of the happily ever after had happened yet.

"Yeah." You nod your head slightly. "They were going to throw a little garden party. It...it would have been cute." And for every year that has passed, you have wished more and more deeply that there had been a reason for it.

"Well..." Marcus senses the slight disappointment and he sighs. His shoulder jostles yours slightly and he sends you a sweet smile. "When you do have a baby, make sure you invite all of them to the shower."

"When we do, I will." It's a promise that you'll stand by, no matter how long it takes to happen, and you slip your hand in his to squeeze his fingers gently before laying your head on his shoulder. "And it will be a garden party."

"It can be in your own garden." Marcus responds, hoping that by that time you might consider this home. He would landscape the backyard into whatever garden oasis you wanted.

"Only if you like the idea of turning part of the backyard into a garden. We have to both like it." Following his trail of thought, you snuggle a little more deeply into his side and reach for the last crab rangoon to split in half.

"It's big enough that we can have a garden area." He looks over at you with a grin. "Although you know I kill any plants I touch beyond grass." He was not blessed with growing anything it seems and you had teased him when he had killed every plant you brought home.

"Which is why you won't be allowed near my rose bushes." The grin on your face is teasing when you look up at him, but there is so much love in your eyes that it nearly overrides every other emotion. "We can put a little bench or a swing out there to sit together."

"It would be nice." It's a thought that sends a warm flood of contentment through him. "Relax with a glass of wine after work when the weather is nice."

"And an extra place for our friends to sit when we have those backyard barbecues that I know we'll end up throwing once I get you a new grill." It's already become his first gift in your mind - something that you can do for him to make him smile and show him even just a little of that loving care that he gives to everyone else.

Marcus smiles and leans in to steal another kiss. "You don't have to do that." He promises. Just the idea that you would think about buying him a gift makes him feel good.

"I want to." Another stolen kiss lingers, and you both smile into it. "It can be a surprise, or you can pick out your dream grill. But this way every time you use it, you'll have an extra reason to smile."

“I don’t know.” He wrinkles his nose at you playfully. “My dream grill is pretty expensive.” He warns. “Alllll the bells and whistles.”

“Bring it on.” You grin, placing a kiss right on the bridge of his nose. “I make good money and intend to spoil you.”

Marcus shakes his head and smirks. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really.” Years ago, your definition of spoiling him had been largely sex related, and while that isn’t going to change unless he wants it to, it’s definitely going to include more now that you can actually do more to take care of him. “You think I don’t realize how much you scrounged for that little diamond chip in my engagement ring? You deserve every ounce of spoiling I can possibly give you.”

“I always felt guilty that I couldn’t get you something bigger.” He admits. “You deserved to have a gorgeous ring.”

“You could have given me aluminum foil and I still would have worn it proudly.” You tell him honestly. “The ring isn’t what matters, it’s who gives it to you.”

“I know.” He smiles at the thought. “I just wanted to give you the world.”

“And I love you for that.” Your head rests on his shoulder once more, fingers trailing up and down his arm as gently as a breeze. “It’s going to be better this time, Marc. I promise.” I’m going to be better. The silent thought rings loud and clear in your head.

“Just talk to me and we will be good.” Marcus promises. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to make decisions by yourself.”’

“And I want you to feel like you can dream with me and plan for the future without being afraid that I’ll react poorly.” Since it’s exactly what happened last time, it is bound to be one of the biggest issues in communication. “If I am even bordering on being overwhelmed, I promise I’ll tell you.”

Marcus hums, having learned his lesson with planning too much but he nods. "I'll work on that." He promises, knowing that it will be an issue but he doesn't want it to hinder a relationship with you.

“We’ll work on things together.” Couples counseling will be smart for both of you, but for now you tip your head back and leave a kiss on the sharp line of his jaw.

"Eat the rest of your food." He urges, smirking at the feeling of your lips on his skin again. He needed this. This talk was good for him and hopefully good for you.

“Bossy,” you tease, grinning when he huffs.

"I just call it leadership skills, sweetheart." He teases and sends you a small wink and leering grin. "Or should I stop being bossy? You seemed to like ‘Director Pike' earlier." He hadn't missed the way you had shifted slightly.

“I’m not mad about it.” Marcus being a little older and a lot stronger had always been a bit of a turn on and he knew it. “Bossy can be fun sometimes.”

He smirks and leans back, pointing his chopsticks at you playfully. "You know it, baby." He teases. "Be a good girl and I'll show you some other tricks I've learned."

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #ex wife reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic

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