#like should i report the killer now for being in the match as well

[xiuhunsoo]

some people's stupidity really is astounding

[zizzy-rie]

Another AU I've been thinking about for the past several days now

Here are some close ups of the second pic

More info under the cut

Lucifer Morningstar

His main job is creating toy designs and inventing them. Despite what people might think, he actually comes from a very wealthy and famous family, having owned several companies and lands in different parts of the country. Even though he has his wealth, Lucifer chose to live far from his family and start a life on his own, much to the disappointment of a lot of his relatives. From time to time, he does contact his father and siblings to catch up and know that they're okay.

Lilith Magne

She is a famous fashion model. Not much is known about where she came from as she rarely speaks about her past. Some say that she's bossy and unapproachable (men) but others see her as soft spoken and understanding (women and children). No one in society knows what she does behind her fame, except those powerful syndicates from the underworld. Lilith is a seductress killer who targets men as her victims. She lures them during huge gatherings and parties, wearing a purple gown paired with a black mask over her eyes. She leaves nothing but a black rose on the scene of the crime.

Alastor (??)

He is a radio host from an obscure radio show. Not many know who he is, much to his delight, as he prefers not being traced back to the monthly deaths happening in the city, most of which was his own doing. Alastor is quite organized with the way he chooses his prey, to the way they should be killed. In the underworld, he is well known, both by amateurs and by powerful and huge syndicates, yet no one dared to touch him or report him to authorities (they know what happens if they do, or even try to).

Relationships

Radioapple

No one knows how Lucifer and Alastor met, not even their close friends and family. One day, Lucifer was just suddenly seen arguing with Alastor on the street while holding some plastic bags filled with different things. Complicated is what can be described about their relationship. One minute, they're arguing and trying to hit each other with anything they can hold on to, then the next, you'll hear them cackling at each other's corny jokes. Their relationship got more complicated when the two got drunk off their asses and swore off and made a bet to make the other get laid.

**It would probably go something like this: Alastor and Lucifer, both very drunk and incomprehensible to anyone eavesdropping on them, somehow talking about relationships and partners (how their topic of conversation led to that is up to everyone's own interpretation).

Lucifer: Pppfft- I'm definitely a whole package! I mean just look at me! Charming, rich, handsome, great with the ladies~ Who wouldn't want that? Ehh? Eh?~

Alastor: Well, I don't see anyone hovering around you like an annoying pest now, do I? I guess you're not as charming or great as you think you are, sire.

Lucifer: You're one to talk! You've never even been on a date once!

Alastor: That's because I chose not to, Lucifer. Relationships are messy, and only complicate things. I have no time dealing with such feeble emotions such as love everyone oh so desperately craves. That is clearly not my cup of tea.

Lucifer: Pft, bet I could find you a partner that matches you.

Alastor: oh? Is that a challenge I hear, sire?

Lucifer: oh! How about this? you find me a partner to date, and I find you one as well. If one of us gets to find a match for the other in a matter of 6 months, then the winner gets to receive a reward. Sounds good?

Alastor: hhmmm, tempting, but what would be the reward, sire? If I may ask.

Lucifer: the winner gets to choose his reward, how about that? Doesn't that sound nice? Hhmm?

Alastor: Alright then, challenge accepted Lucifer. Although you're only making this easier for me, as I have never ever fallen for someone and I can assure you that it will never happen. Good luck with finding me a partner.

Lucifer: oh I definitely can, just you wait.

The current situation on their challenge so far: difficult is one word to describe it. No one has found a suitable date or partner for the other yet. [Until Lilith comes into the picture]

Radioqueen

Lilith is a witness to one of Alastor's murders. While disposing of the body, she had accidentally walked into the scene, much to Alastor's disappointment. This is their first meeting with each other, although they have heard rumors about the other from amateur criminals and rookies. Alastor, not wanting to kill Lilith because of his moral code of not killing women and children, bribed her into getting a date with one of the rich and chivalrous men in their city, Lucifer Morningstar, in exchange for her silence. Pleased with the idea (and perhaps another prey to feast on), Lilith agreed. The two exchanged contacts and have been in touch ever since. They are acquainted easily as the two share sentiments on not harming women and children in their murder spree. One detail Alastor forgot to take notice though is, Lilith's victims are men who she had a date with before their deaths.

Lucilith

The two bumped into each other in a cafe. Lucifer was getting a latte for himself, stressed out on the list he is making (names of random people he has heard of who he thinks are the type of people Alastor would go out with). Lilith was getting coffee, just finished from her modeling job in a nearby building. Their meet up was merely a coincidence, which was a delight for Lilith. This way, she could gain more information about who the person Alastor is setting her up with. Lucifer, mesmerized by her voice and stunned by her brilliance, tried to ask for her name. Unfortunately, he blurted out a different question as he was mulling over other problems in his head, such as the list for Alastor's possible dates. Asking someone to date their friend is not the kind of question anyone should be asking to a stranger, and yet it still happened to Lucifer, no less. Being possibly one of the most socially awkward people to exist, he could only sit on the ground and hide his face in shame and horror. Lilith, not expecting this kind of behavior from a rich and supposedly charming man, had found him quite cute and endearing. This is when she decided to leave her original plan of killing him, and instead vowed to marry him someday in the future.

[sketchehm]

[ #my guess if that Serpias wanted to kill the guy much earlier#like. when he asked Sapnap about the numbers there was this sharp clever glint in his eyes and then this dickhead RUINED IT#no one outside the mafia should be able to precieve or talk to Sapnap ever Serpias thinks#Sapnap has been trained to stand his ground and not escalate a situation because in Dream's family everything was like defusing a bomb#cuts had to be precise and you couldn't be picking fights#here Team Mafia *really* wanna see Sapnap kill a guy with his bare hands and teeth#also. aughhhh Sapnap probably hates talking sooooo much.#because Dream also really valued his opinion but he didnt need to *talk*#he would just look at him and Dream would get it#but now he has to explain everything and its clunky and bad. so he talks less ] @rat-rosemary

[ #aaaaa i want to see the rest of team mafia too for their reactions about sapni#i bet they would cheering sapnap if he kill a guy and sapnap is confused af if he messep up or something ] @lazy30

Hello hi guys hehe

SO! The Team did actually call dibs to see who would get to watch Sapnap kill first. They’re excited by it! 

(Shadoune saying he already won cause he’s watched Sapnap beat people to death in some of the underground fights, but that doesn’t count. Shadoune fights with them that it does. No one listens to him lmao)

Sapnap is in… “training”…..with them for about a month, learning how the Team works and getting to know everyone. (That month is all he needs to fall in love with them….) However, actually going out onto the field is a whole different story.

Serpias did end up winning the Team’s gambling match to get Sapnap’s first kill haha. The asshole they’re going out to meet was already marked for dead, they found out that he’s been scamming some of the lower associates and Serpias was already tasked to investigate and take the guy out. Sapnap is just his +1 hehe (None of this is explained to Sapnap…which proves to be the cause of many issues…)

So Sapnap was kinda right in thinking this was a kind of “training”. He didn’t…fail per say. Serpias just got pissed off and couldn’t hold back.(That's /his/ Sapni. Its what he tells the others, he couldnt help himself.) Though, Serpias will report back to the other guys and says that Sapnap was extremely passive for most of the interaction. Which is…not the Sapnap they’ve gotten to know so far. He’s loud and cocky. Yes he’s smart and they know he could take on a more leadership position if he keeps learning under them directly (they know he was in charge of his own division at the least when with Dream, so they know he can hold those kinds of responsibilities). They think maybe just cause it was his first time? (They know that’s not true. Especially Serpias, having witnessed Sapnap speak with the bastard..Sapnap was way more professional than he’d given him credit for. It’s not what they’re looking for in him though.)

After a few times of going out with the guys and Sapnap not…being their reactive aggressive attack dog, they just start putting him in more….dangerous situations. Nothing they know will harm him seriously, but they need to see what actually gets him to /kill/. They’re eager for it, almost desperate. They’re all killers, Shadoune knows for sure Sapnap is one too. But they’re wondering if maybe that’s just not the kind of guy Sapnap might be? There seems to be a kind of switch flipped in Sapnap whenever they go out on business with him…

Sapnap…well he can tell something’s up. And he feels like he’s doing something wrong….He’s still not exactly used to how they operate, he’s not used to tagging along and having to speak up as well too…He assumes it’s them trying to get him to learn Spanish faster, but he’s shy and hates the idea of stumbling on his words and embarrassing not only himself, but whoever he’s tagging along with. And every outing he’s a part off, the other guy is always an asshole, there seems to be no shortage of them. He wonders if it's because the Team’s territory is so much larger and that’s why there just seems to be more idiots they have to deal with…The Team are the only group he’s comfortable talking back to (when the time calls for it) and just being himself. He’s had years of learning on how to act when with dealers and opposing mafiosos. It was always a pain having to tiptoe and figure out what dance each guy wanted. And its even worse here cause he doesn’t even understand what the other party will be saying. He misses Dream the most during this. Dream was always so much better at speaking than him, always knew what Sapnap wanted to say and expressed it for him…..

Sapnap did pick up on the pattern that anytime he’s with someone from the Team and they’re out to meet some other asshole, the guy ends up dead. Maybe it's his fault? Maybe he can’t get his words out correctly and the business deals fall flat cause of it? Sapnap has seen his fair share of corpses, caused many deaths himself, but it feels odd. He feels guilty.

He also picked up on the pattern that he seems to be a sort of punching bag at these meetings. Not a physical one per say… It’s never to whoever he’s with, only he seems to be the target. He can understand most insults and while it seems to be just common to use them every other word, the opposing person always seems to be directly insulting or mocking him. He tries not to mind. Though it does start to get to him, wondering if the Team are doing this on purpose. Maybe he isn’t their beloved guard dog….these meetings are just a reminder he’s only a mutt to them, useless…and then they force him to talk just to add onto the embarrassment…

The Team are slowly noticing Sapnap becoming more reserved even with them. The worst they’ve seen Sapnap do is break someone’s wrist after they tried to take a punch at him, but never kill. (He even refused to leave his room after that meeting too. They all were distressed.) Anytime a gun was pulled on Sapnap, he always managed to disarm the person and asked for the meeting to continue. It was extremely frustrating for the Team.

They decide maybe enough with taking him out. There’s something they’re clearly not figuring out. It’ll be Shadoune and Conter who end up actually speaking with Sapnap and asking about everything. But Sapnap is not….the best with his words in English either…. When with Dream and George, they all just /knew/. It was from years of growing up together. Sapnap doesn’t know how to explain himself and ends up just saying he’s….shy….he won’t tell them about his anxieties, he thinks its dumb, he rarely ever shared them with Dream or George.

“Ah! Espera, yo pienso que está estresado porque cada compromiso ya está marcado a fallar, y él no lo sabe.”

When the two reveal to Sapnap they’re not gonna be taking him out anymore, it's basically confirming his anxieties. They’re gonna kick him out cause he’s worthless. He’s gonna have to return to Dream empty handed too, having failed him as well….Sapnap can feel himself spiraling. He begs for another chance. He’ll practice his Spanish more, he can make a deal go well, he promises!

Conter says something to Shadoune that Sapnap doesn’t understand at all. Shadoune looks like he’s realized something as well…

Shadoune chuckles before saying, “Ya, ya, entiendo. Pues..que vaya con Farfa mañana, no?”

Sapnap recognized something about tomorrow and Farfa…? He’s never been out with Farfa before. Fuck if they’re sending him out with Farfa that’ll be worse he thinks….

”Farfadox…?”

They both look at him. He feels nervous.

“Yea, tomorrow. It will be good for you!” Conter looks excited by this. Shadoune is nodding in agreement.

”O-okay.” He won’t refuse an order. Not right now. Not when he’s feeling…like /this/. He won’t fail Farfa tomorrow. He swears it to himself….

And when the time finally comes, it’s… easier…? Farfa is making sure Sapnap knows what’s happening in this meeting. Explaining everything in English. But isn’t asking him for an opinion. He’s not being asked to speak. It’s such a relief.

The meeting is wildly different to what he’s used to. Everyone is curt, straight to the point. There is no yelling or arguing, the opposing party barely looks at him, he’s practically ignored. He counts his blessings.

Sapnap is trying to calculate everything in his head and tries to take note to as much as he can….There’s a small detail he notices that he thinks Farfa may have missed. It must mean nothing but….it’s screwing with his internal calculations, something is /wrong/. He doesn’t think these type of people would try to wrong Farfa either…? The environment is so different from what he’s been going through recently, nothing wrong is /happening/, its all so professional, like when he accompanies Dream…but even Dream has missed some vital but almost ignorable detail in contracts before. 

“Farfa…?” He interrupted the two. They were speaking about something, he thinks the meeting was about to close…? But…he needs to make sure first. 

Farfadox is looking at him, expectedly. Not annoyed, patient, it helps builds Sapnap’s confidence. He can do Farfa proud.

“El…uh. Uno dos tres cuatro cinco... says….siete..? El siete uh pa...page? Es mal. Número malo? I think…?”

He gets through his broken spanish and looking from his hands where he was trying to recall his numbers, looks back at Farfa. There’s a small grin on Farfa’s face. Sapnap feels like a kid…..

Farfa understood though. He goes to the 7th page of the contract, its the one that had a listing for some new drug Sapnap has never heard of. But he swore the listing for weight compared to the amount of product they were supposed to receive for their men to sell was…off? And that caused the pricing to skew drastically in his head. He looked over Farfa’s shoulders, reading the numbers himself to make sure he wasn’t wrong and he wasn’t! 

He pointed to the discrepancy, “Aquí! Aquí!”

He noticed Farfa’s brows frown. He looked back at the dealers. So did Sapnap. They were looking at Sapnap, angry. Oh. Did he mess this up again….? Surely not though…

Farfa starts talking, his voice is louder than it was before. It booms. The dealer is raising his voice too, Sapnap assume’s trying to justify the error or something. Now they’re arguing. Fuck, he really does just cause issues….

He’s watching the dealer. He’s furious, his face is red and staring at Farfa. He’s cursing, Sapnap can tell. Farfa is looking back at the contract, continuing to argue. He notices…the dealer’s hands are going into his jacket….

His head is yelling DangerDangerDangerDANGER.

It’s dead quiet now.

Sapnap shoots. Not even realizing he’s taken his own gun out. 

”Sapnap.” He jumps and drops his gun. He’s fucked it up again. It’s worse now. He /killed/ someone. He wasn’t ordered to. He hasn’t been ordered to kill anyone this entire time and now he fucked it up. Oh fuck. Oh /fuck/.

”/Sapnap/.”

There’s hands on his face, “Mira me, mira Sapnap. Respira, breathe.” He’s locking eyes with Farfa now. His hands are gentle. Farfa is smiling.

”He was- He was gonna shoot. He- I saw him. He-“

“Ya, ya. Te creo.” Farfa believes him. Good. Good… Farfa is so nice to him right now. He’ll take it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’ll soak it all in. Before…before whatever punishment they decide (He hopes it’ll just be a punishment. He hopes it isn’t worse)

“Good job. Buen perro.” Sapnap lights up. Oh. Oh! He knows that means he did good. Like really good! They rarely ever say that to him. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Farfa say it himself.

Its crazy how all his worries seem to vanish from the past few weeks. Like just that small reassurance was all he needed. He did good. He smiles.

“Hermoso.”

Sapnap doesn’t know that word.

“Casa?” He asks instead. Farfa laughs.

Sapnap will be getting settled to go to bed when the rest of the members rush into his room(except Spreen he realizes. But he’s at the doorway with Farfa smiling at him). They’re basically dogpiling him. Cooing at him and hugging him and petting and praises and kissing and snuggles and he doesn’t understand, he doesn't get it. 

He slowly realizes they’re all congratulating him. His first kill. His first kill? He tries to tell them he’s killed before. They don’t listen to him. They start talking about setting up a fight with him, so they could all watch next time. Sapnap feels his face getting red. They're all gushing over him....But! He feels like its been forever since they’ve all mobbed him like this. He feels so warm. 

(The next morning he gets breakfast in bed. It all feels very silly to him)

[novankenn]

Spin-Off Snippets from "A Mafia Au"

Inspiration / Original Post / Follow-up Post

Blake plastered a plastic smile on her face, and pushed a cheery attitude as she wave while Jaune left, with a blush Pyrrha, who was now wearing a matching Pumpkin Pete Hoodie, aside from the emblem on hers was neon pink. Once they were out of sight, she sighed, and started to make her way to the door.

She froze when a rather string hand clamped down on her shoulder. She cursed at herself for tossing away her weapon. While she was a skilled assassin, and very effective with unarmed-combat, she was considerable more effective with a blade. But she tenses her muscles anyway, and prepared to fight.

"So... you're my co-worker?" the slightly unhinged voice floated through the air to Blake's ears. "What's you name?"

"Blake. Blake Belladonna?" she replied while turning her head just enough to see with whom she was speaking. The sight of the deer faunus woman standing next to her, made Blake shiver. The young woman looked good. She appeared to be in decent shape, had a nice figure, a small set of antlers protruded up through her orange-brown hair, plus a warm smile... but it was the eyes. Her eyes looked cold, dead, soulless.

"Well, Blake my name is Deandra Thistle, but my friends call me Deery... you can call me Deery."

"Hi, Deery?"

"So I saw you serving those two customers there." Deery continued without giving Blake a chance to speak. "You did good work, but you need to become more professional, and you SHOULD be wearing your uniform."

"Uniform?" Blake let her eyes wander, and shivered. Deery she assumed was wearing the uniform. White flat sneakers, no socks. Orange-pink cargo shorts, which showed off her calves. She had nice calves, Blake thought for a second, before taking in the remainder of the uniform, which was a purple-blue tee shirt with the Pumpkin Pete logo on the left breast.

"Did they give you a uniform?"

"No?"

"Bastards!" Deery swore. "Okay I think we have some spares in the back, but it's just about closing so, once we cash out, we'll get you one. Sound good?"

"Cash out?"

"Yeah. Run end of day reports. Count the cash in the tills, balance the debit machine. Cash out." Deery eyed Blake with her cold soulless eyes. "Did NO ONE give you any training? Who hired you?"

"Bob?"

"Gods damn it Bob! As if I don't have enough on my plate, you send me people to train and on-board too! Son of a bitch!"

"Sorry?"

"Not your fault Blake." Deery patted Blake's shoulder. "We'll get you all set after end of day. Head to the counter. I'll lock up."

"Okay?" Blake was scared. Her a world class assassin. I hired killer was scared of a retail-wage-slave. It was the eyes. Definitely the eyes.

Cash out and end of day went smoothly, though Blake didn't understand half of what was being done. But after that hour of work, she found herself sitting in the staff room, as Deery handed her a uniform, before sitting down.

"So any questions?"

"Um... I don't think this will..."

"PLEASE DON'T!" Deery cried as she grabbed hold of Blake's hands with vice like strength, while tears fell from her now sorrow filled eyes. "PLEASE Don't leave! I'm here alone... all day... I... I... I need help!"

"It can't be..."

"This place is open from mall open to mall close! That's ten hours, not including opening and closing that I'm ALONE!!!" Deery started to bawl, using her ungodly strength to pull Blake from her seat, and into Deery's crushing embrace. "I need help! I can't even take bathroom breaks!"

Blake didn't know what to do. Of course she could kill Deery, and from the sound of it, doing that would probably put the poor girl out of her misery, but that wasn't how Blake conducted business. She prided herself on never having any colleterial damage on her jobs.

"Maybe I can try for one more day?" Blake whimpered out, as Deery was slowly starting to suffocate her.

"Really?" Deery sobbed out, releasing Blake from her deadly embrace. "Really?"

"Yes?" Blake replied, still trying to catch her breath and get the feeling back into her limbs.

"YES!" Deery cheered, jumping from her seat, and pulling Blake off her knees into another crushing hug. Blake was starting to feel like the antler's were fake, and Deery was in fact an Anaconda Faunus. Luckily this hug was not a tight or long.

"So nine... am?" Blake asked hesitantly.

"Wait." The soullessness returned to Deery's eyes. "What training did you have, and what is you schedule?"

"None, and I don't have one?"

"Damn it Bob!" Deery snorted, and then took a calming breath. "Did they tell you anything at head office?"

"No?"

"Okay. Put your stuff in a locker, the key will be taped on the inside of the door."

"Okay?"

"Then we are going to have a little staff slash team meeting at Junior's."

"We are?"

"Yep. We are."

(A/N - I never do much with B lake, so I figured why not. World Class assassin scared into working retail by a desperate and soul broken "co-worker"... what could go wrong? )

[vqrtualheartss]

CCan you do one where miles find out reader is literally obsessed with art and has a room alone for her drawings and paintings one of them being him

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

9:12 pm This is my first request and I love you for it. Anyways, I'm trying to keep this one short and cute because I just realized I cannot make a story short for my life so yea lol.

The like, plot about the senior partner programme is taken from a book I read on wattpad called 'His Tesoro' by sjpwell and I heavily recommend you read it. heavily.

For fem readers, no specific race disclosed

Warnings — idk, bad grammar

In all honesty, deadass, I would've been asleep by now if not risking my hands to ink poisoning or that our teacher was picking the pairs for the annual senior partner programme. You'd basically share classes, be expected to hang out and by the end of the year write a report based on what you learnt about them. There wasn't anyone I was against being paired with but there wasn't anyone I was looking to either, all of them were the same people just different fonts, nothing interesting.

"And lastly we have Miss Valentine and Mr. Morales. Until your new schedules are emailed to you, you are expected to interchange the order of classes starting with the male's in the pair. Happy bonding"

Before I could get up, someone tilted down my phone screen, shifting my attention from it to them, the Mr. Morales— Miles. My nose slowly twitched, as I tried to fight the tug on my lips.

"Hi angel" I sighed, smiling at the nickname. Apparently my last name reminded him of Cupid and because Cupid's somewhat an angel, it makes me one

"Good morning Miles" pushing out my phone gesturing for him to hold it, I gathered my stuff preparing to head to his class. "Formal as always" he shook his head looking down at me with my bag on one shoulder, the other strap swaying freely. I shrugged at his comment, bringing out my hand to retrieve my phone, instead of handing it over, he held onto my hand, intertwining them as he examined the free-styled drawings.

"Talent much? Cool if you could put some on me?" He smiled widely, dangling my phone in his other hand as some type of persuasion. The smile grew evident in my voice, "Alright". I mean, why not, for his half of classes I didn't have to do anything in them so might as well.

"These dopee. Y'know low-key we should get matching ones sometime" . I smiled, "Maybe"

Annoyed at my frequent one word responses he turned around to face me as I slipped from underneath his arm " I hope you're not gonna be like this when I come by later."

Standing infront him with my mouth slightly agape, I questioned, my arms mirroring his crossed ones. "When you do what?"

"How else are we supposed to get to know eachother? And I'm guessing you're eager to kick me out and wrap this up" Narrowing my eyes, I pinched and rubbed my nose bridge.

There weren't many reasons why he couldn't stay over but they held alot of weight, one being my art room and two I'd probably make a fool of myself.

Looking up at him to protest, he swiftly transferred his initialized chain from his neck to mine before walking off and shouting, "Text me the directions and I'll be there" .

I dragged a hand down my face, I was going to send him them but that bitch.

knock knock, the door creaked open as a faint light faltered to the floor

"Miles? If that's you come in" "Woww, now imagine if I was a serial killer" Taking off his jacket, he continued "You would've been dead by now"

I shrugged , eyes never leaving the sketchbook propped on my right knee. He turned around, a dead expression on his face as he dragged the book from my lap "Nah, you gave your word" I most definitely did not

"Okay, fine, my attention's yours and yours only. Happy?" I gave him a tight-lipped smile as he sat on my bed, flipping through the pages "very" .

I remained a neutral expression as if my heart wasn't waiting to jump outside my chest.

Recently he's been the center of attention of my art and obviously I don't need him to see that. My heart rate calmed, his eyebrows furrowing, the pages seemingly went blank "I thought you drew more than this?" "I recently started that sketchbook,"

My expression softened, smiling internally as relief took over my body. However, my mind went as blank as the pages. Where the hell are those drawings then ?.

He hummed, moving from the bed to the office chair. He slid it over beside me before holding onto the chain with a finger of his, bringing me even closer to him.

"This makes it look like you belong to me in some way".

I copied his 'hm' in response despite my stomach flipping on end. He tugged on the chain releasing it. "I swear to god I'm going to make you talk. One way or another" leaning back into the chair manspreading, I smiled while maintaining a scowl. "Ew, you look like a man"

"Oh so now you speak?" He scoffed before continuing "Where's your bathroom" "Straight down, first door on your..." I paused a bit unsure of the direction to tell him ".. right, first door on your right"

He leaned on the door frame, crossing his arms "Don't know your directions by now?" "Get out"

Glancing at the time on my phone a few times, it took me a while to register that Miles was gone for more than 20 minutes "That's weird". Heading outside, I shuffled to the bathroom that he would've went to find it empty. I stood with my hands wrapped around my torso trying to figure his whereabouts. Shit. I went to the one place I hope he wasn't, my art room.

Approaching said room I saw the door slightly ajar, his shadow lingering on the walls. Without a plan I went inside, harshly biting down on my lip to brace myself for future embarrassment.

"You really weren't going to show me this?" I nervously laughed, eyes darting around the room inspecting for any sketches, drawings or paintings with him as the centerpiece. My eyes lingered on a drawing of Miles a little longer than I should've, he sent himself in the direction of my gaze. I shut my eyes, squeezing my fists tighter with each passing second. He took up the sketchbook situated on the desk, twirling through the recent pages before turning.

"Is this me?" His eyebrows drawing nearer as he grinned. I bit harder onto my lip before attempting to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, even if it was just on my side. "No?"

"Looks an awful lot like me" Placing the book into its original position he folded his arms, sitting infront the desk

"I do not have the mental capacity for this" I sighed, shaking my head. A bead of blood formed on my lips.

Looking up and down my frustration filled body, he replied "Got me on your mind a lot, huh?" Laughing at his own teasing, I used the base off my hands to rub my eyes viciously, an honest attempt to push in my eyeballs.

Morphing into a ball of embarrassment, a smug expression splashed on his face. Hissing my teeth, the colours of his eyes went onyx as he stared. I returned his challenging gaze before he stood up, walking over and standing dangerously close.

Towering over my height, he smirked holding my chin between two fingers. What the fuckk. In that second I felt.. wierd, warm and fuzzy on the inside.

IDK HOW TO END THIS SO I DIDN'T.

©vqrtualheartss 2023 ©dae 2023

[liminalpebble]

Sex and Death: Chapter 13, Theories

Masterlist link

Chapter 13: Theories

The next morning was a groggy one. The team sat around the table clutching their coffee cups for dear life as their six sets of bleary dark-circled eyes watched for the gurgling percolator to finish. As it did Magnus grabbed the carafe and went around filling each mug, risking a sweet little grin to Noura when he reached her. It had only been mere hours, but he had missed her. His large, empty, messy apartment had never felt more barren and unfamiliar and his bed had never felt colder.

Wallander tapped the table and inquired, “Alright, what have we got?”

Madsen from forensics spoke first. “The DNA results are back from the blood trail,” he explained, dropping a mugshot on the table; a ruddy middle-aged man with close cropped blond hair and the neck and jaw of a bulldog stared up at them. “Jens Larson, 51 years old, Swedish citizen. As you can see, he's been arrested multiple times for several misdemeanors; drunken brawls, angry public outbursts, that sort of thing.”

Noura turned the picture to face her, asking, “Martinsson, does this match the description Yasmin gave you?”

“Yeah...yeah it does, but we can check with her to be sure. And I get the impression from what she told me that he's a racist piece of shit.”

Kurt glared. “Well as of right now he's a missing person and potential murder victim, so let's show just the tiniest bit of sympathy and not jump to conclusions, okay?”

Svendsen spoke up. Noura, couldn't help but noticed that he still, somehow, looked fresh and sharp despite being as sleep deprived as the rest of them. “He's probably right though, Kurt. His file does list affiliation with hard-line conservative and Neo Nazi groups known to be active throughout Sweden and Denmark.”

Magnus gave a crooked grin, proud that his hunch turned out to be right. “Told you so,” he quipped lightly, as everyone started at him.

“Jesus, Magnus!” Noura scolded, crossing her arms and frowning although she was also secretly glad to see a bit of his playful irreverence resurfacing.

Noura asked, “Wait, do we know that he was the one being dragged? Isn't it possible that he was  injured in some sort of struggle with...well...with whoever he might have been dragging, causing him to bleed all over the snow.”

“That's the thing,” said Madsen, “The boot prints are too small to be his. Also, he was reported missing by his employer this morning. He works for the city driving a snow plow. There's been no sign of him since yesterday and the plow was left, empty and abandoned in the building's front lot.”

Svendsen turned to look between Magnus and Noura quizzically, trying to parse something out. “Magnus, you said that from Noura's window the snow was clear, and then about 30 minutes later, you looked out and saw the tracks, right?”

“Correct,” he said warily. Worried that he might have to tread carefully here.

“Did either of you hear anything as well? Larson was supposed to be on shift in the area during that time period. Did you hear the engine of a plow cut off? Maybe the sound of a struggle?”

Magnus looked him coldly in the eye and said, “No. It's not likely I'd hear sounds out front from the back of the building and on the 4th floor. We've been over this when we gave statements.” There was an edge to his voice. He was already beating himself up for not paying enough attention while he was there. He could have seen the man himself if he hadn't been so distracted. Now Svendsen's questions only highlighted this lapse and, he worried, might beg the question of what he was distracted by when he should have been more vigilant.

Five pairs of wide eyes met his. “Sorry Svendsen...everyone...I'm just really really tired.”

“No worries, mate,” Svendsen said with an easygoing smile; mood as unruffled as his shirt.

Kurt sighed, “We all are. I know. Well, we're getting a permit to search Larson's apartment, it might give us a bigger picture.”

Noura spoke up. “It doesn't seem like our serial killer. If it was, we would have gotten another letter by now, and probably found a body. Also, the victim isn't a woman, isn't of Middle Eastern descent. Could this be some kind of vigilante action? Maybe someone was building the same kind of profile we were and jumped to the conclusion that it must be Larson?”

Magnus shook his head, drawing a finger pensively over his lip. “ It's possible, but if that was a vigilante's conclusion it was a piss poor one. He doesn't fit our statistical profile for age range anyway...among other variables.” He scanned the report page in front of him quickly, “And it doesn't seem the groups he affiliated himself with were the specific ones indicated by our profile. Whatever the case, I doubt the killer is Larson...even if he is a racist piece of shit. We're looking for someone younger who moves in younger white nationalist circles.”  

Svendsen rebutted, “but he does fit my psychological profile pretty closely. Racist men in that age group harbor a lot of resentment towards women of their target subgroup. I would suspect a sexual element, desiring such women and feeling shame about it. Several killers like this have lashed out at women of a certain ethnicity as a means to purge themselves somehow...to make amends for the sin of attraction to those whom they see as lesser people. ”

Kurt and Magnus both rolled their eyes. Magnus said, “And do you have any actual evidence for this or are you just guessing, Dr. Freud?”

Josef just gave a good-natured laugh. “Look, I know how you think of profilers like me. I won't take it personally, but I figured it was worth voicing the thought.”

Wallander considered for a moment then deferred to Director Holgersson. “Are you comfortable bringing the residents back into the neighborhood, calling off the patrol, since this doesn't seem to be our guy? Its interesting, but I don't think it gives us anything for the serial killer case, and I'm sure that neighborhood would like to get back to normal.”

“Yeah. I would say it's likely safe...well...as safe as it ever is there. We have to think of where to put our resources. We'll get a different team on it.”

“Wait, Kurt, I just don't know. I don't see Larsen as the killer but, call it a hunch, it all seems connected to me,” Magnus pondered aloud. “This serial killer knows Noura's name and face from the news. It's hard for me to call it a coincidence that something which would draw her professional attention would land right in her lap. Maybe this is a message for her.” “Do you have evidence for that?” Svendsen asked, unable to resist poking Martinsson for his his dismissal on the same grounds. Josef gave a tired huff and addressed his superior. “With all due respect, you don't know that neighborhood. Noura and I do. Half of it lives in those apartment blocks with a clear sight line to that backyard. And it wouldn't exactly be the first time for a homicide or missing persons case to show up there.” Noura shrugged in reluctant agreement. He had a point.

Kurt gestured to Svendsen and nodded. “Exactly, and we can't justify taking too many task force resources away from this serial killer case to scour for a missing Nazi. We'll keep the uniforms on it and hand it off to a different team. We need to go back and refocus on our solid leads.” He turned to Noura and Magnus, “Have you two gotten all you can from those letters? If our killer holds to his pattern, then the clock is ticking on another woman's life.”

Noura nodded and said, “We're fairly certain we have all we can get from them. Decoded, it just turned out to be more disjointed rambling about race wars, etc. It's hard to see any solid leads there, but we'll comb through it again.

“Do it. And everyone, if you still see some connection between these cases, by all means, keep considering it, but don't let it distract you. Stick to the evidence. We have lives in our hands.” he said the last part looking pointedly at Magnus.

Taglist: @peacefulpianist @peaches1958 @icytrickster17 @sired-to-hybrid @mjsthrillernp @acidcasualties @loz-3 @annoyingsweetsstranger @alexakeyloveloki @marcotheflychair @muddyorbs @smolvenger @sweetsigyn @goblingirlsarah @lovelysizzlingbluebird  

[henriiiii-1001old]

time to do a silly over here hey is it okay to ask u to pick one au u have, how would the aus cast do in among us. like who the fuck rages. i shit you not someone ran to the emergency button in a game i was in instead of reporting a body, i was very mad. werent even the imposter either. also hi other person who knows who i am. -silly

anyways i have the PERFECT THING to explain how theyd play among us :33333

introducing: tmc as the morning lobby/hafu lobby!!!!!

you dont need to know who they are to understand, just know that i am insane over them and i love among us videos sm still <333333

SO FIRST!!!! we have mark and sarah as 5up and hafu. 5up and hafu are noted as an iconic sibling duo, very much like the heathcliff siblings. they are also MASTER among us players, most notable for their incredible impostor plays (esp when together as an impostor duo). but besides that, mark and sarah play EXTREMELY well and like order to balance out the chaps of the lobbies.

next up we have jonah and adam the iconic dumb and dumber duo, dk and steve, respectively. they mostly do a lot of trolling. dk is mostly known in his older days for “throwing” a lot of the games, which i just have a feeling jonah would do a LOT. he does get a lot better overtime though!!! as for adam, he gets steve bc steve’s demeanor just 100% matches w adam man. and the lobby has claimed that steve can “roleplay as himself”, which is kind of what adam has been doing his entire life. dumb and dumber can be a powerful duo if they dont throw each other under the bus in the first round and have had some killer games!!!

next up i have thatcher as dumbdog. dumbdog is usually seen in a dark green color, which my brain just went “oh yeah thatcher lol.” however, dumbdog is a mix of a serious and silly player, going along with bits that he thinks are funny but also still being serious when he needs to be. i just think that captures thatcher SO WELL. also dumbdog’s laugh is just so good i might just make it thatcher’s laugh i love it sm.

next we have dave as junkyard. the entire thing with junk is that he’s the oldest in the group, and i think dave would play that role very well even if he’s not necessarily the oldest.

and this is where things get blurry. im not sure who would be who at this point, so i’ll just give a lil rundown of everyone else’s playstyles.

ruth is also a serious and silly player but leans more towards silly. maybe she’d be a good kara? idk

WAIT EVELIN IS MAYBE JANET. i mostly know janet for being so focused on being her role, especially snitch, and its just really entertaining imo. i just feel like evelin would be the same way, hyperfocusing on playing her role and such.

the alts are. okay at the game ig. gabe’s mostly alright but when he’s crew he’ll just get sussed for no reason and it pisses him off to hell and back. six is a VERY silly player. he’s probably a really good jester ngl. stanley i’d say is the best one! very tactical and plans out a lot of their actions. plays really good as both crew and impostor. puppet can be a REALLY good impostor if he knows how the specific role works. he does like to do a bit of fuckery here and there though bc he just likes being so silly goofy.

i didnt almost forget eden (lying) and soeaking of i feel like he’s still getting hsed to the game, likes to call too many buttons, gets caught too often, and misreads a lot of situations. but hymn’s still learning!!! he’s got a long way to go!!!!

uuhhh thats kinda all i have for now ig! also i probably should have clarified this is mostly for unholy gift.

[teecupangel]

From @thewolfprince

offers my chapter 1 for the finishing of this so I can see my favorite blorbos Jacob and Evie

(in my best Isu voice) I require no offering (although I would never say no to them) for I am a benevolent ‘god’. (normal voice) Usually, asking works XD

Anyway, so, let’s end this longer than I expected it to be fic idea with both Unity and Syndicate + some extra!

The Non-Desmond-Ancestors Part 1:

So the immortality gang decides to go to Paris after Altaïr receives reports of someone matching Haytham and Shay’s description making problems for the Parisian Brotherhood. At this point, the Adrestria ship is known as the ‘legacy ship’ of the one who takes the title of Altaïr (although there are rumors abound that Altaïr is immortal). Kassandra likes to tease Altaïr about it and calls him ‘oh dear captain’ just to annoy him.

Anyway, they get to Paris and find out that the Templars and the Assassins in Paris (and really all of France at this point) are split into two faction each. Those who want to have a truce/alliance with one another led by the Templar de la Serre and the Master Assassin Mirabeau and those who don’t want anything to do with their enemies led by an unknown Templar (but is rumored to be Haytham) and the Master Assassin Bellec. Paris is currently having a three-way battle between Assassins and Templars who sorta have a rocky truce, Templars who want to keep fighting the Assassins and think that the other Templar faction are traitors and Assassins who refuses to ever be allied with the Templars and think the Assassins who do are deluded.

The Templars are in a worse state with there being a sorta brewing civil war between the two factions. The Assassins aren’t that far behind but Bellec’s call for blood is still being veto’ed by the other Master Assassins and it’s really just a matter of time before everything becomes ugly.

The Immortality gang gets suckered in because, well, the Assassins in their gang feel a responsibility for all these. There’s talk of which side they should take and there’s pretty much debate about it that boils down to ‘can we unite with the Templars?’. No became the final answer mainly because Desmond reminded everyone what the Templar’s mission is: to create a brand new world without free will (although he did falter a bit when Ratonhnhaké:ton suggested they try).

Anyway, the immortality gang tries to help out and unite the two Assassin factions. During this entire thing, Arno, who has been raised by the de la Serre for maybe two to three years before he was taken in by Bellec after Bellec heard of the boy who saw Charles Dorian’s killer and looked for him, is part of Bellec’s faction and is looking for his father’s killer. Élise is her usual self and she remembers the sweet boy Arno had been, wondering just what kind of life he had to desire vengeance so badly. Then her father is killed and she starts looking for the killer, matching Arno’s own flames of vengeance with her own. They still fall in love but it’s a more… destructive kind of thing built on a foundation of grief and rage.

Arno also serves as the immortality gang’s main contact and ‘support’ from Bellec’s faction and that’s how he grow close to them (mostly Ezio who tried to mentor him to use his thirst for vengeance in a less destructive way and Desmond who just treats Arno like a friend and Arno enjoys it). The four-man co-op missions of Unity now become Arno’s official Assassin missions and he gets helped from the immortality gang. Always three people but different people with Ezio, Desmond, Altaïr, and Ratonhnhaké:ton being the usual ones. Bayek also likes to help out a lot but he’s the main mediator for the two Assassin factions so that usually keeps him busy. Eivor helps out if it’s not heavily stealth-centric or if they all need a distraction. Alexios is there if they all need a ‘destruction’ (bad joke, please ignore). Kassandra usually joins when it sounds fun. Mary and Edward help out whenever they can but they’re mostly working with Bayek and Altaïr with Mary usually dragging Edward to look for Altaïr as he tends to leave to join the missions without telling Bayek. Also, Eivor is busy trying to look for any descendants of her old friends in Paris.

Anyway, no one asked Élise to live in this one so she dies in Arno’s arms once more after they learned that the leader of the Templars and the one who ordered de la Serre’s death is Germain who dies by Arno’s hands.

After Élise’s death, Arno leaves the Brotherhood just as it’s being united with the Templars under de la Serre joining the Assassins instead and the ones under Germain scatter in the winds. Bellec thinks it’s too risky to accept the Templars but he gets veto’ed by the new council helped set by Bayek. (Whether Bellec does his canon betrayal is up to you).

So Arno does the whole Dead King DLC but Ezio and Desmond comes with him while the others are stuck with helping the Parisian Brotherhood. Same deal happen but, this time, Arno dies saving Leon. He wakes up to Ezio and Desmond carrying his dead body out of the rubbles and he learns he’s immortal.

He asks why it’s just him. Why not Élise as well? And he carries this survivor guilt around him for centuries, how he wished that Élise had been the immortal one instead of him.

The immortality gang leaves Paris with Arno and they all continue to hear the rumors of Haytham Kenway being alive but saw no ‘evidence’ of him. They do believe that Arno really did see Shay Cormac and they think Shay survived the deadly fall Liam had sacrificed himself to take Shay down and that Shay is the one ‘trying to keep Haytham’s legacy alive’.

Unknown to them, Haytham and Shay had been helping the Templars in the shadows but there had been a slight disagreement on who to help. Shay had helped the de la Serre faction while Haytham helped the Germain faction. They reunited after the destruction of the Parisian Rite and took the remaining Templars out of Paris.

The Non-Desmond-Ancestors Part 2:

So, in this scenario, they get to London after they learned the… well… chaos that the Frye twins had done. This would mean that they would get to London maybe around Twopenny’s assassination and the riots that followed after.

Arno is still down so Ezio suggested that he takes Arno to help the local Assassins. Which, in turn, makes Ezio and Arno be what Evie calls ‘Jacob’s caretakers’ because Ezio saw the Rooks and was immediately “Oh, no, it’s worse than Hope’s gang”.

Evie and Jayadeep get support from Altaïr and Bayek while Eivor takes this time to check Ravensthorpe together with Kassandra and Alexios.

Desmond and Ratonhnhaké:ton go check out the Kenway mansion together with Edward and Mary because they heard Templars had ‘infested’ it and, fuck that. That was still Kenway property.

The British Brotherhood had been trying to gain tracks and the Kenway team actually learned that descendants of Edward and Mary (and Anne) had been trying to take back the Kenway mansion from the Templars. They do admit they didn’t coordinate with the Frye twins and only left a ‘this is our mission, stay back’ because the current mentor of the Brotherhood was hoping the one with the title of Altaïr will take care of them. They do get the Kenway mansion back but they can’t turn it into a headquarters because it’s too risky. They think the Kenway team (especially Edward and Mary) are also descendants of Edward and Mary. They also think Desmond is a Kenway descendant and Mary immediately goes “Yes! He’s my brother… half-brother! Right?” “I like to think of myself as adopted.” “Hahahaha, always the joker, my dear little brother is.”

Funny thing. Bayek gets mistaken as the one with the title of Altaïr a lot. Bayek just sighs while Altaïr usually goes “he’s the real Altaïr” whenever he doesn’t want to deal with what dumb thing the Assassins need him to deal with… or he wants to play hooky with Desmond and the others. XD

Anyway, Starrick is an anomaly because he’s a Templar who blatantly shows he’s a Templar even though the usual modus operandi of the Templars is to stay underground to not get the Brotherhood’s attention. This makes Jayadeep believe that Starrick is a decoy and the real Grand Master is someone else.

Jacob gets close to Ezio and Arno. Maybe even see Ezio as kinda like a father figure. Romantic inclination for Arno optional but, if he does, poor Jacob does not know what to do with his budding feelings for a man. Evie grows close to Bayek and Altaïr on the other hand and both men become a father-figure to her, especially Bayek. Their daddy issues still fucked them up though and they have this wall between them and the immortality gang.

Oh, Desmond the Corgi gets saved by Desmond this time who was just taking a walk and found the dog. The Blighters that tried to take Desmond down got their asses beat because the others got to Desmond’s location quickly because Desmond. Should. Never. Be. Left. Alone. For. Too. Long.

Eivor and the others return just in time for the big finale and with information about how the other branches have heard the same rumors: Haytham Kenway is still alive. They believe that “Haytham Kenway” is a title of the Templar Order the same way Altaïr is believed to be a title as well.

Anyway, Jacob still partners up with Roth behind the gang (if he has feelings for Arno, that might be the reason why he tried to splinter off) and he actually dies in the fire while saving the last children. Jacob revives after Arno and Ezio takes his corpse out of the burning building.

Evie dies during the final confrontation with Starrick because she was pricked with poison during their dance. She actually dies in Jacob’s arms and they’re all surprised that she got reborn. Jacob had hidden his immortality from her and that… sorta fractured their relationship a bit.

Evie joins the Adrestria but Jacob stays behind to keep an eye on the Rooks, promising to join them once he’s certain they’d be okay without him.

They return to London later on when they receive a message from a Kenway descendant (Anne’s descendant) about how Jacob Frye disappeared and how there are Assassins gone rogue who believe in the manifesto of fear of an Assassin only known by the name of Jack.

The Jack the Ripper DLC is where Evie and Jacob finally reunite and Jacob joins the gang officially.

Lydia is still born but she’s not immortal.

Congrats, guys, this is an idea where Evie has to watch Jayadeep die of old age and leave her behind. I hope you’re happy.

Random Modern Day Notes That I Have No Idea What To Title:

Even though they tried to stop it, Abstergo still got build and they don’t know it was actually Haytham who founded it this time

Altaïr gets the fun idea of building a rival company and uses Desmond’s memories of the future to get funding and ensure its success. It’s sorta his baby and the constant headache of Bayek who thinks it’s too risky. Kassandra loves it because they got a new more modern and high-tech ship thanks to its success.

Depending on how much they had screwed up the timeline, it’s highly possible that William Miles (and the Miles bloodline in general) wouldn’t be born in this one.

Juno gets destroyed and the whole Solar Flare thing is solved in the background because I think it would be funny if they get relegated into… well… a bit character and a d plot.

Still have no idea what the Singularity Point is and, at this point, Altaïr’s company is more or less preparing for all possible catastrophes instead. They’re still looking though because they’re stubborn.

They would probably learn that Haytham and Shay are immortals in the modern day. Maybe during Layla’s time or something. It’s an awkward reunion, that’s for sure, and Arno still wants to avenge his father.

Okay okay so.

Your thoughts on a Time Travel-ish fic where Desmond gets yeeted back to a little bit before Altaïr’s time and Bayek, Kassandra, Alexios, and f!Eivor become basically immortal bc of POE/Isu bullshit?

And then all the main characters after that become immortal bc of POE/Isu bullshit (including Desmond) so they’re just slowly gathering a bunch of immortal Assassin/some Templars and winging it til they hit the modern day era.

If you like to add a vampire spin to it, here’s the vampire idea a while back that does include a lot of main characters (but not all) getting turned into vampires.

Now, for this idea, let’s set up some things first.

Desmond is the primary immortal and nobody knows how it works.

They stop aging once they die and are revived for the first time.

There will always be a minute of death before their revival. (spawn rate)

Since we want to cover all main AC characters (although I love the fact that we didn’t include Basim in that list. Mirage isn’t out yet, Basim doesn’t count yet, I guess XD), I know you asked for Desmond being yeeted a little before Altaïr’s time so I’m hope you’re fine with Desmond being yeeted before or during Kassandra and Alexios’ time period. (I mean how 'little' is open for interpretations I say)

And how about we make this a little bit more interesting?

Desmond gets yeeted into the time of the Isus. To be more specific, he gets thrown into Minerva’s ‘temple’ during the final days before the Solar Flare.

He’s disoriented and maybe just ‘a bit’ traumatized because of the pain he felt when he activated the device so all he could do was try to understand what Minerva was saying.

About how she’s trying to save his life. That he must do what they all fail to do.

Find the true source of this anomaly, this singularity point that ensures a catastrophe hits Earth every few millennia regardless of what they do.

Because, and this is important, Desmond, even if you save the world from the Solar Flare, another catastrophe will happen. It is inevitable.

But you can find the reason why it has to be that way.

Desmond…

No matter what happens.

Never give up.

Keep looking.

I will do all I can to give you as much help as possible.

Good luck.

And Desmond falls asleep when Minerva pushes him into some kind of device that looked like a water bed.

When he wakes up, he finds himself staring at a confused-looking woman clad in armor.

The Layla Trilogy:

Desmond has no clue what this singularity point is meant to be but he assumes that he’s meant to find it now that he’s woken up… 2 millennia before his time, Jesus Christ.

Kassandra was just looking around the supposed ruins of Athena’s first temple. She believes he’s a demigod or a human turned demigod by Athena. She also thought he might even be Erichthonius but that idea was scrapped when Desmond showed her just how little he knows of the Ancient Greek world. He joins her because it’s not like he has any other clue and Kassandra traveling made it clear that he could cover more grounds if he stayed with her.

It’s because of Desmond’s intervention that Alexios (as Deimos) isn’t killed and the siblings’ relationship is rocky but Alexios stays with them in the Adrestria even if it usually comes down to Kassandra and Desmond making sure Alexios’ temper doesn’t get them into trouble. (Whether the other family members survive is your call).

In the end, it’s the whole Atlantis DLC that makes Kassandra and Alexios accidentally (or is it an accident, Minerva?) immortal. Desmond’s inclusion into the ‘vision’ screwed up the Isu tech and whatever is keeping Desmond immortal is copied into Kassandra and Alexios. They don’t realize it until later on when Alexios dies during a very fierce battle. Then a minute passed while Kassandra cradles her baby brother in her arms as she cries, Alexios opens his eyes and gasps loudly. Kassandra and Desmond would realize they’re immortal as well later on. No matter what they ask, Aletheia in the staff (Desmond doesn’t trust her one bit) doesn’t say anything at all. Desmond believes that their immortality might have been caused by one of the many POEs he had with him at the moment (he’s been hoarding every POE they find).

In this setup, Alexios would be Aya’s ancestor and it’d be more of a one-night stand that happened because Alexios was feeling a bit off that day and wanted some company. Whether they learn Aya is Alexios’ descendant is up to you. They meet Bayek during the Curse of the Pharaoh DLC while they were checking out the ‘curse’ and this is another case of Desmond’s immortality getting passed into Bayek while the POE is shrouding all of Thebes. Maybe even during the time they were in the Duat and Desmond is seeing people who haven’t even been born yet and that’s how he believed his desire to destroy the lies being shown to him caused Bayek to be infected by his immortality. They don’t know Bayek is immortal though but Bayek knows they’re immortal (maybe make one of them die in front of Bayek? They’ve become quite prone to risky actions because they know they can’t die) so when he realized he was immortal, he starts looking for them.

Eivor met them on the Isle of the Skye and Desmond’s immortality infects her during that time as well (maybe during the final confrontation with the POE?) but, as usual, they don’t know that yet. What happens is that Eivor returns to Ravensthorpe and the story continued until the end of AC Valhalla, maybe a few days later, Reda (who may or may not be an avatar of Minerva or her sage or something, the point is his immortality is not connected to Desmond’s… maaayybbee) introduces her to an old friend of his who is looking for someone who looks a lot like Randvi, a man going by the name Amun. At that point, Eivor already knows she’s immortal, Basim slicing her throat during their final confrontation was a dead giveaway, and Reda introduced them as ‘two people of similar circumstances’. They both realized that they’re immortals and Bayek (who Eivor knows as Amun) believes that the answer to their questions is with Desmond and the Spartan siblings (they’re not, they don’t even know they’ve been leaving immortals behind) so Eivor leaves Ravensthorpe to find Desmond and the other with Bayek, promising to come back once she has all the answers.

They finally catch up to Desmond and the others around late 1100s and Desmond doesn’t know how but he’s sure he’s the reason why they’re all immortals now. Without any other information, all they can do is be cautious and, later on, they decide that Desmond shouldn’t get too close to other people until they’re sure on how this entire immortality thing gets activated. Of course, that only means Desmond would feel bored (and maybe have bad reminders of his life on the Farm) so he was just walking a busy marketplace to take some time off his own spiraling thoughts, just looking around and that’s when he bumps into Altaïr.

Desmond’s Ancestors (Part 1):

Desmond didn’t even know Altaïr would be around these parts. Why would he? All he knew during this time was that Altaïr went with Maria to go travel, he didn’t know just how far the two had traveled during that time. Desmond desperately tries to get away because, fuck, there’s no way that he was going to mess up Altaïr’s life even if he desperately wants to because he has no idea what will happen to him if he messes Altaïr’s life so badly that Desmond Miles wouldn’t be born centuries from now. This only makes Altaïr interested in him and it ends with Desmond joining Altaïr and Maria in their travels, sorta forgetting to tell anybody else that he might have been half-kidnapped/half-went along with it?

So the current immortality gang is out looking for him while he’s making a life in Masyaf, becoming like an uncle to Altaïr’s children. Desmond keeps trying to tell Altaïr that Abbas is too dangerous to keep alive but Altaïr won’t listen, thinking that Abbas would not stoop as low as Desmond says, especially when the Apple doesn’t show him anything bad happening with Abbas. By this point, Desmond had told Altaïr everything so Altaïr know Desmond knows of a future but he insists that that future is no longer their future because they have changed things.

Altaïr and Maria still go with Darim to assassinate Genghis Khan but Desmond stays behind to keep an eye on Abbas. Unfortunately, this gets him captured and it’s only because of Desmond’s warning that Malik survived, taking Sef’s wife and children out of Masyaf on Sef’s orders while Sef stays behind to save Desmond. It ends in tragedy as Sef dies in Desmond’s arms instead even though Desmond begs for whatever is keeping him immortal to save Sef, to make him immortal as well. Desmond is taken deeper into Masyaf and tested on to find the reason for his immortality instead.

Altaïr’s return is heralded by a civil war between those who sided with Abbas and the Assassins Malik rallied. In the battle, Maria dies in Altaïr’s arms as well and, if you really want to hammer in the pain, Malik falls as well. When they finally took Masyaf back, Altaïr finds Desmond in the deepest part of Masyaf alive but… well… it’s not a pretty sight. Just as he frees a catatonic Desmond, Abbas stabs him from behind and Desmond snaps out of it, screaming as Altaïr falls into his arms. Remembering how Sef dies in his arms the same way breaks Desmond. Altaïr dies in his arms and revives a minute later, much to Abbas’ surprise. In the end, Altaïr kills Abbas and takes Masyaf back.

After the funerals are done and Masyaf starts healing, Altaïr tells the new mentor (Malik if he’s still alive or Darim if Malik is already dead) that he and Desmond are leaving Masyaf. That this place is simply too painful for Desmond right now and the only way he can heal is to be away from this place. The mentor agrees because they both know how much Desmond blames himself for the death of the people he and Altaïr loved. That not even Altaïr telling him it’s not his fault could reach him.

So they leave and a few days later the immortality gang reaches Masyaf but everyone is tight-lipped about what happened and if they know anyone that looks like Desmond (there were rumors that the people of Masyaf were experimenting on how to achieve eternal life and such). So it took them a long time for the mentor to confide what had happened (that’s fine with them though because they trust Desmond can take care of himself (oh boy) and they’re immortals, they have all the time they need) and the mentor isn’t sure where Desmond and Altaïr could be.

They’re in Monteriggioni. Of course, they’re in Monteriggioni. Desmond talked and showed Monteriggioni to Altaïr and his sons so Altaïr knew how much Desmond loved the town. They stayed there because Altaïr was hoping Desmond could heal there and Altaïr accidentally sorta-maybe bought the place while it was just a little thing and started expanding and stuff. They’re always known as descendants of themselves and they’re rumored to be brothers or cousins or something, anyway, the point is the town’s connection with the Assassins is a very hush-hush affair and the Italian Brotherhood grows with Altaïr’s assistance while Desmond just… does whatever he wants.

Desmond meets Ezio as a child when the Auditore family visits the town to pay their respect and Altaïr sees how happy Desmond is to play with Ezio and his siblings. He suggests that they vacation in Florence once in a while to visit the Auditores and Desmond agrees.

The Auditore execution doesn’t happen because Altaïr’s presence makes the Italian Brotherhood be more incognito. Giovanni is still loyal to Lorenzo (an ongoing headache of Altaïr’s) and he’s the mentor of the Italian Brotherhood while Altaïr has more of an advisory role but his connection to the other Assassins was great enough that he was able to coordinate a rescue mission when Giovanni was arrested. Federico and Claudia (who learned enough to fight in secret thanks to her Tio Desmond) were in the house and they got the others out while Giovanni stayed behind so he was the only one arrested and the Auditore family is given asylum in Monteriggioni.

Of course, the whole rescue plan had been in the making for a while now as a ‘last resort’ since Desmond told Altaïr what would happen and this pushes Ezio, Federico, and Claudia to join the Brotherhood in hopes of avenging what has happened to them.

Same thing happened as canon. The actions of the Italian Brotherhood (really, Ezio and his siblings) catch the attention of the immortality gang who finally catches up but they accidentally thought Ezio was the immortal with Desmond named Altaïr and that’s how Ezio learns about the whole immortality thing.

Ezio finds out he’s immortal after Rodrigo stabs him and he dies but revives. He believes his other siblings aren’t immortal though because he saw Minerva’s message for Desmond and it’s already changed. She’s speaking to Ezio and she tells him to “keep Desmond in check”. To make sure he remembers his mission. Ezio believes it’s not Desmond who gives immortality to random people but Minerva. That this immortality thing is something Minerva prepared to keep Desmond ‘safe’ and ‘focused’.

Desmond would have easily said that Minerva is going by a list of people Desmond cared about but he didn’t even know about Kassandra, Alexios, Bayek and Eivor before his death so that idea gets thrown out before it even fully forms.

Anyway, it ends with the immortality gang going on a newly refitted and upgraded Adrestia to start looking for this singularity point with Altaïr giving Monteriggioni to Petruccio who had been taking care of the finances and the little details for a while now. They stop by Constantinople as well and Ezio falls in love with Sofia, maybe he stays with her for a while and have two children? Idk. Anyway, the Auditore line continues…

Into the Kenway line…

Yeah, see that part one? Yeah, it’s because this got too long and I only answer/reblog on tumblr on a specific time frame to make sure I get things done. Sorry XD

I’ll get back to the others tomorrow (if work wills it) but if anyone wants to take a stab at this, feel free :)

(ngl, I was debating if I should make Malik/Maria/Darim and Sef immortal. I’m still on the fence with Malik being immortal. It would be a good angst fodder “Why you but not them?!!” kind of deal)

[boldlyvoid]

touch me

spencer reid x reader

Summary: Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.

warnings: mentions of cases, insecurity issues, female reader, smut, blowjobs, riding, praise, emotional hurt/comfort. emotional sex, strangers to lovers, hook-ups,

word count: 5.8k

They had been in New Mexico for almost a week, solving a series of murders that seemed to have no end in sight. There was nothing they could do but go back to their hotels to sleep, hoping there’d be a connection in the morning.

Spencer and JJ were sharing a room as the small town hotel didn’t have accommodations for everyone that was visiting to help with the case. They didn’t mind, it was like a long sleep-over.

They did their own thing, kept their space and Spencer really did enjoy overhearing her on FaceTime with her kids. It was refreshing happiness in the middle of the madness murder sadness and despair they were swallowed by.

When his phone rang at 6 am, just shortly after he returned to his room for a quick rest, he sighed deeply, “Dr. Reid.”

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but another body dropped and I need you to go to the ME,” Prentiss explained softly down the line. “It’s weirder than the other’s and you’re the only person who would be able to work it out with the examiner.”

“I’m on it,” he replied with a tightlipped smile. He hung up and looked over at JJ, already peacefully asleep on her bed. He closed the door softly on his way out, not wanting to disturb her any further.

At the other end of the hallway, Spencer stood and waited for the elevator. It seemed to be taking forever, everything he was doing lately dragged on and on with no end in sight. He was exhausted, still struggling with his PTSS, just all around not having the best time.

He was in the middle of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when the elevator opened with an equally tired woman waiting inside. “Hi,” she said before covering her mouth to yawn, “sorry.”

“I get it,” he smiled as he stepped inside. “Lobby?”

“Yes please,” she smiled. “Are you here for the case too?”

“Uh, yes,” he answered softly, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, with the FBI.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the medical examiner,” her face lit right up. “Agent Prentiss said you’d be joining me I just didn’t think this quickly.”

She was adorable, bubbly and happy in a way he envied. He missed the feeling of random giddiness, smiling at her as he felt the butterflies swirl in his stomach. “Do you need a ride? I have an SUV from the bureau.”

“Yeah,” her smiled got bigger. “That would be really nice.”

They walked closely together through the lobby and towards the parking structure, he hit the unlock button a few times while trying to figure out which SUV his keys matched to. Finally getting in and watching her climb in the passenger seat.

“Do you know anything yet about the body?” Spencer asked as he turned on the ignition.

“Yeah hold on,” she pulled her iPad out of her bag and started sliding through emails.

“Your tech girl sent me the initial police reports, witness statements and overview,” she began to explain. “Like the others, she’s a 25-year-old female, blond, blue-eyed, athletic.”

“Prentiss said it was a weird one?” Spencer added.

“They think she was embalmed before the unsub staged her,” Y/N added with a tone of disgust on her voice. “Do you have your tech girl’s number?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Spencer dug his phone from his pocket and dialled the number.

“Penelope Garcia, the 8th wonder of the world at your service,” she answered after just one ring. “How are you doing on this fine morning, my fine furry friend?”

“Not so hot,” Spencer replied. “I’m with the ME right now on the way to the body, she has a question for you.”

“Oh hello, ask away.”

Y/N was smiling on the front seat, enjoying the show they put on for her. “Um, hi I was wondering if you could look into anyone in this town buying embalming equipment, or if any has been stolen from the funeral home? This town is so under-resourced already, I don’t know where this guy could get this stuff.”

“Absolutely, I’ll add that to my parameters,” Garcia’s voice was lovely and soft. “I’ll call you back if I find anything!”

“She’s lovely,” Y/N exclaimed as Spencer place his phone back in his pocket.

“Yeah, she is.”

Spencer pulled into the morgue’s parking lot, the lights were all on and the Coroners van was parked by the loading doors. Inside there was just 1 officer, waiting beside a body bag as Spencer and Y/N walked in.

The officer gave them both a quick rundown of the crime scene findings, as well as information about where all the equipment was before leaving them to their work.

“Have you ever examined a body?” Y/N asked Spencer.

He nodded, “I’ve been present during a few, held some organs, but I’ve never done one myself.”

“They’re pretty gnarly,” She scrunched her face and giggled. “Let’s get you all geared up.”

She handed him a hairnet, a white plastic suit, goggles and a mask. “Gloves are on the wall, pick your size.”

He felt like a lunch lady standing beside her, taller than her by almost a foot, dressed in all white with a hairnet. He could tell she was smiling at him under her mask, her eyes gleamed up at him in a way that made his heart melt.

He had to remind himself multiple times that this was nowhere close to the time appropriate to want to flirt with someone. They were about to examine a dead body, and potentially solve a case. There would be time to flirt later.

But he was just so amazed by how she worked, being able to tell everything that was going on by just looking at the body. Making notes on her own and only occasionally explaining things to Spencer. In her own little world, solving the puzzle with expertise.

“The other 4 vics were just strangled and staged, dressed up and left in different areas around town,” she ran the case down more for herself, needing to hear the words to make a connection.

“Yes,” Spencer followed her train of thought, tilting his head as he listened.

“She was murdered, embalmed, staged and sexually assaulted. His MO is completely different and it’s only been 2 days since the last body dropped. I think he’s found his signature,” She explained her thoughts. “His sexual aspect comes out only when they’re dead and cold, we’re dealing with a necrophile.”

“While most serial killers start with small animals before moving on to humans, he started with women and then eventually grew to what he really wanted. That’s what we were missing,” Spencer’s eyes lit up.

“He’s a lot younger than you hypothesized in the original profile,” She added.

“You read it?”

She nodded, “yeah I like to know what you’re looking at to see if I have answers.”

“This is really going to help us,” Spencer smiled, his eyes mimicking hers now.

“I can finish up here if you want to go back to your team? I can get a cab,” She offered. “Go catch this guy.”

“Okay,” Spencer said, backing up from the table and taking his equipment off. Placing them in the hazmat garbage. “Are you sure?”

“Yes Dr. Reid, I’ll be fine,” She laughed. “Can I call you if anything comes up?”

He smiled again, “call me even if something doesn’t.” He dug a contact card out of his pocket and placed it on top of her purse. Waving as he walked out of the room.

—

He thought about her smile for the rest of the afternoon, leaving his findings with Prentiss before heading back to his room to sleep for a few hours.

He finally found his way back into the police department 5 hours later, coffee in hand as he tried to absorb all the new information. They had a lead, stolen embalming equipment from a funeral home a few towns over was reported 4 days ago.

He stayed back during the apprehension of the suspect. Simmons, Lewis and Rossi were closer and they didn’t think the unsub would be dangerous. No one was missing and he wasn’t expecting them, should be easy to get him to come in for some questions.

Much like the rest of this case, it didn’t go to plan. They found another woman in his home, having to shoot him in the process. Ending the spree, ridding the world of a necrophile. It just didn’t feel like justice was served when another person had to die.

Spencer sat on his bed, calming down slightly from the end of the case. Saving a woman, killing a murderer, it was all a lot to process in such a short time.

JJ was in her bed on the other side of the room, scrolling through Facebook as she looked at photos of her kids. It was a much easier way for her to calm down, remembering that she could go home to pure, unadulterated happiness at the end of a case.

They heard a small knock on the door, Spencer volunteered to answer, opening it only a small amount as he looked out.

“Oh, hi,” surprised to see Y/N behind the door.

“Would you like to come and drink with me?” She asked, holding up a bottle in her hand. “In my room,” she added.

“Yeah, yes um, hold on,” he closed the door on her softly.

“Who’s that?” JJ smirked at him.

“My friend,” he replied quickly, running to the bathroom to look at his hair and fix his shirt. “I’ll be back later.”

He grabbed his wallet, making sure he had a condom first, before opening the door only a small amount to slip out into the hall. Hiding Y/N from JJ as she tried to look out the door.

“Sorry, my co-worker and I are sharing,” he explained.

“It’s okay,” she smiled, heading towards the stairs. “I’m just a floor up, and the elevator takes a million years.”

Spencer held the door for her, watching her head up the stairs as he noticed the bottle in one of her hands and her shoes in the other. She walked up the steps in her socks, exhausted from the day.

“Did you get any sleep?” She asked him softly as she kept climbing the steps.

“A few hours, did you?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, “I woke up just before they called about the body this morning.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go to bed? You’ve been working for 12 hours,” Spencer worried for her.

She reached the door for floor 3, pulling it open with the hand she held her shoes in, “Sleep is the for weak.”

He laughed lightly, “do you want me to hold anything?”

“Here,” she handed him the bottle, “thanks.”

She dug the keycard from her pocket as he followed her towards the right door. Excitement bubbled in his chest as she opened the door and welcomed him inside.

It was exactly like his room downstairs, only there was just 1 queen bed and a few couches by the window. She set her things down on the bed, sighing deeply as she sat on the edge.

“Do you have any cups or mugs?” Spencer asked, reminding her that he was holding the alcohol still.

“Yeah, on the bar table over there,” she pointed. “I’m just going to change in the bathroom quickly, you can pour yourself a drink.”

“Okay,” he smiled awkwardly as he crossed the room.

She dug through her suitcase quickly. Spencer saw from the corner of his eye as she took out some shorts and a shirt, not even slightly worried about being so casual in front of a complete stranger.

He inspected the bottle, it was just a cheap scotch, nothing too special. He poured about an inch of the golden liquid into two cups, not a big fan of drinking but tonight he felt a little risky.

She came back looking more refreshed, very cozy, and still breathtakingly beautiful. He hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time, the tightening in his chest as he wondered where the night was going to go.

Not to mention the longing he felt.

Even before prison, he wasn’t one to spend a lot of nights alone with a beautiful stranger. The added isolation in his life changed him on a fundamental level, he realized just how much he craved contact, and just how much he’s deprived himself over the years from both men and women. He just wanted to be loved properly.

He silently handed her one of the cups, smiling at each other softly as they tapped cups. Taking the whole drink, “oh, yep that was exactly what I needed.” Y/N’s eyes watered as her face scrunched up, coughing a bit.

Spencer felt the same, only being able to hide it a bit better. The burn was nice on his throat, it made him feel alive. “Did you want to order some food or anything or?”

She laughed, “that would be the smart and responsible thing to do.”

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

She looked up at him, her shoulders dropping as she released the tension in her body. Looking into his eyes with care, it was so different from the way his co-workers looked at him. She didn’t think he was broken, she had to reason to believe he was even damaged.

“Yeah,” she smiled, placing her hand on his chest as she stepped in closer to him. “Do you like mushrooms on pizza?” She giggled, even this close to him with every opportunity to kiss him, she chose to just make him smile. Something that didn’t happen too often lately.

“I do, it’s my favourite topping actually.”

She took his tie in her hands and dragged him to the couch, “I enjoy topping sometimes too.”

She sat down on the couch and looked up at him, waiting for him to sit beside her. Patting the cushion beside herself while he swallowed sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, making her smirk.

“I won’t bite Spencer,” she laughed finally. “I’m sorry if that was too much?”

“No,” he said, sitting down beside her quickly. “No, it’s fine honestly, I’m just not used to it.”

“Too busy with the FBI to find anyone to hit on you?”

He shook his head softly, pushing his hair out of his face. “I uh, I was framed for murder and in prison for 3 months. I haven’t really had a conversation with anyone I don’t work with in a while.”

“Oh,” she didn’t look surprised or scared. “That makes sense.”

“What does?”

“You’re soft,” she leaned in to press her hand against his chest once more, eye level with him now. Seeing his eyes dart from her lips to her eyes every few seconds as he licked his lips. “You don’t look like you want to hurt anyone, but something about your aura is changing. You know how to protect yourself now, and you’re stuck thinking you’re still in danger.”

“How can you tell all that just from looking at me?” He asked softly.

“If I showed up at any other man’s door with a bottle of alcohol and the offer of a night alone, I would have been pushed against that door the second we got here,” she explained. “You respect me, almost a little too much.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His face was soft and curious and proving her point.

“You see me as a person, but I can tell you’re touch starved. Every time I get close to you, it’s like you don’t want me to move away,” her voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in even closer to him.

She could feel his breath on her face, her nose was close enough to brush against his as she stared at his lips, “but you won’t make the first move. You want to protect me from you.”

He nodded his head lightly before rubbing the tip of his nose against hers and making her smile. He let out a sigh, relaxing his shoulders as she straddled his lap, leaning him back against the couch. He bit the bullet and let his hands rest on her hips, looking at her softly in the hopes it was okay.

“Tell me?” She begged, holding his tie in her hands, running it through her fingers as she waited. “What do you want? What you miss? Let me be that for you,” she begged.

“Anything,” he finally tells her. “Just touch me.”

She loosened his tie, freeing his neck finally. She slowly undoes every single button on his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants as she opens it up.

Her fingers are warm on his skin, but he still gasps at the touch. Her fingers were so soft, like angel kisses as the pads of her fingers traced the skin. Gliding over every freckle, raking through his chest hair, bumping along the barely-there abs.

His thumbs rubbed against her bare thighs, where he held her lightly. “You can touch me too,” she whispered.

His hands travelled up to her waist, he gently pulled her in closer. No longer resting on his legs, but pressed close to his chest. Her hands landed on his shoulders, looking down at him with nothing but pure lust as her breathing hitched.

She cupped his face, gliding her thumbs along his cheeks softly as she stared at his lips. He opened his mouth to breathe, his bottom lip was plump and beautiful and she couldn’t help herself from rubbing her thumb over it.

He kissed her thumbprint before taking it in his mouth, sucking on it softly making her hips buck into his lightly. The suction on her thumb was more erotic than she expected, the feel of his hot mouth, his wet tongue swirling around it before he let her go with a pop.

She accidentally let out a moan that excited him, “like that?”

She immediately felt her heartbeat in her clit, she nodded feverishly. Suddenly at a loss for words, wondering where this Spencer suddenly came from.

“How far are we taking this?” He asked softly. “We can stop and order that pizza at any time?”

There he was, the soft and sweet man that she brought here in the first place. “Pizza is even better after sex,” she couldn’t stop the giggle from erupting from her, even as she bit her lip.

He smiled at her like she was the world. A complete stranger making him feel more than anyone had in the last year. “I’m going to need longer than it takes to deliver a pizza,” he admitted.

“Luckily they’re open late,” she compromised, leaning in and finally kissing him.

It was soft at first, then he pulled her in even closer. She was chest to chest with him as he breathed her in deeply. She melted into his grasp as if he had just stolen her soul right out of her body.

She was his now.

She kept his face in her hands, holding him as he broke the kiss to explore her jaw. Kissing every inch of her neck and chest as she gripped his hair, making him moan as she used her nails to comb through the long locks.

“Does that feel nice?” She cooed, running her nails along his scalp as he tilted his head back.

“My favourite thing,” he explained as he closed his eyes, letting her repeat the same motion again and again.

He looked so peaceful, running his hands over her back and sides softly as she massaged him. She leaned in and kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, both eyelids and his forehead.

He wanted her to touch him everywhere, her delicate touch made him feel worthy for once. Every self-hatred of his washed from his body as she explored him with care, care only one would receive if they were a most prized possession.

He felt loved.

It was overwhelming, he didn’t realize a tear had slipped down his cheek until she was wiping it from his skin. Shushing him softly before kissing him quickly on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, what’s on your mind beautiful?” She asked softly as she brushed through his hair once more.

“I just,” he looked in her eyes ever so innocently. “I’m not used to feeling cared for, no one pays attention to me this way.”

“That’s shameful,” she looked utterly perplexed. “Look at you? You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re powerful. You’re kind and lovely and soft?”

“But I’m also weird and too much to handle,” he interjected.

“Not to me,” she corrected him. “this morning you could have said nothing in the elevator, you could have driven by yourself and awkwardly waited till I was finished my work. But you didn’t, you had a conversation with me, you helped me many times, you cared about me making it back here safely and you didn’t even know me. You’re a special kind of person Doctor Reid, and anyone who doesn’t see it is an idiot.”

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and furrowed his brow, “do you ever give out parts of yourself to everyone because you know how hard it is to feel appreciated?”

“All the time,” she laughed softly. “But not now.”

“Me either,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done and I’ll tell you mine,” she offered. “Even the playing field.”

“How so?”

“Right now you think I’m super nice and kind right? And I just told you how I feel about you, but you hate yourself and outside of here I hate myself too. Share a secret, we can be fucked up together,” she smiled.

“In order to keep myself safe in prison, I poisoned a batch of heroin and almost killed a lot of people,” he responded without thinking.

“Okay,” she was a little shocked that he gave in so fast. “One time I stabbed a guy who tried to touch me after I pushed him off me twice already. He didn’t die, it barely even went in.”

“Both are technically self-defence,” he shrugged.

“See?” She smiled. “You’re not as bad and scary as you think you are. You’re smart and cunning.”

“Are you sure you’re not a therapist?” He teased her, “because this has been better for me than any therapy appointment I’ve ever gone to.”

She laughed again, kissing him softly. “I think it would be against the rules for your therapist to do this, I guess that’s why some men cheat.”

“How so?” He just liked listening to her speak.

“It’s easier to be open with someone you’ll never see again than it is with your therapist or wife because there are no consequences. They can’t judge you or hold anything against you, they do what you paid them for and they leave,” she explained herself.

“I’d like to see you again,” his voice barely a whisper. “If you’d like that?”

She nodded softly, “maybe I’ll move back to Virginia, finally.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Born and raised. I moved to Albuquerque with my girlfriend 5 years ago, and she left me about 2 years ago now,” Y/N explained. “I liked my job too much to move all the way back there and start over.”

“I can put in a good word for you where ever you want,” he offered before he could stop himself from looking too desperate.

“I’ll look into it,” she smiled.

He kissed the centre of her chest again before pulling her into a hug. Hearing her heart beating in her chest softly as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head and rubbed her hand over his back. Soothing him so completely, he felt beyond amazing.

And then she was gone, pulling back from him and standing up. “Wh-?” Before he could even ask, she was lifting her shirt off.

He stared at her breasts, eyes wide and jaw dropped. She walked over to the bar, taking another shot before she pushed her shorts down and climbed onto the bed. Completely naked in under a minute.

He stood then, pushing the opened shirt off his shoulders and immediately undoing his belt. He took a condom from his wallet before kicking off his shoes, dropping his pants and underwear to the floor and stepping out of them.

She was laying back against the pillows when he crawled over her, resting his naked body against hers ever so slightly. She just smirked as she looked up at him, “hi.”

“Hello,” he whispered.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“You.”

He kissed her softly on the lips, or at least he planned to. Y/N wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down against her. Swiping her tongue across his bottom lip, begging to make out with him, finally.

Grabbing and tugging at each other as everything started to heat up, she could feel his erection against her leg as he ground down on her. Sucking on his tongue, lightly making him moan into her mouth.

His hair kept tickling her face, every time she’d push it away it would just fall right back against her skin. She pulled him off by his hair, gasping for air as they stared at each other again.

“Can I be on top?” She asked lightly.

He wrapped his arms under her, holding her close as he rolled over. Watching her settle more onto her knees as she sat on his hips. “Better?”

“Much,” she said as she sat up, taking a hairband off her wrist and putting her hair up. Raising her arms in a way that made her tits perk up. He reached up and cupped them, rubbing his thumb lightly across her nipples before giving them a squeeze.

She just laughed as she finished her ponytail, “having fun?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled up at her.

His hands followed the curve of her body, from her boobs to her waist and down over her hips. She was stunning, confident, everything he ever wanted and more.

She found the condom in the sheets, the bright purple packaging making it easy to see. She played with it in her hands, seeing how long it would take before he got desperate, but he never did.

“How long have you had this?” She asked, trying to tease him.

“Not long,” he was honest. “I just got out of prison, remember?”

“So you haven’t had sex since before you went in?” She looked excited.

“No, why?”

She smiled, “so I’m taking your free man’s virginity.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing?”

“It is now,” she giggled before leaning down to kiss him once more.

Trailing kisses down his neck, stopping only to suck a mark near his Adam’s apple. Hearing the sweet little gasps he made every time her tongue came in contact with his skin. She kissed his clavicle, his shoulder and down his chest. Making her way across his abs and over his lower tummy.

He gripped the sheets, not knowing what she had planned or where she was going. Spreading his legs, she kissed his groin, his right hip bone and the inside of his thighs. He couldn’t believe it, the way she explored him so delicately.

She ignored his cock for a while, kissing and sucking at any and all the visible skin she could find. He felt her smile against his thigh then, getting closer and closer before she took his cock in her hand and kissed the base.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, settling into the bed like water filling a glass, he was liquid in her hands. Her mouth was a blessing and she chose him to worship.

“Fuck,” he moaned as she took all of him as far as she could. Dragging her tongue along the shaft as she pulled back up. Swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him all the way in once more.

She pulled off with a pop, sitting up now with his dick still in her hands. She tore the condom open with her teeth, taking the package off and rolling it over him.

His dick bounced back against his stomach when she let go of it, hard enough that it had a mind of its own now. She bit her lip as she lifted herself over him more, setting herself down softly where it laid against him.

The head of his cock brushed her clit as she ground down on him, his hands found her hips once more as he instinctively helped her find a rhythm.

He could feel how wet she was, the way she glided over him so easily. Her breath hitching every time her hips bucked, she was enjoying herself. It made him even more excited. She leaned back down then, kissing his neck once more as she continued to push down on him.

“I need you,” Spencer gasped.

She smiled against his skin, lifting her hips enough for him to line up with her before she started to sink down on it. He watched himself disappear inside of her, feeling the way she took him in like he was always meant to be there.

“Fuck,” she gasped as she sat down fully, her hands resting on Spencer’s stomach as she tried to get used to it all. Listing herself up and down little by little to get the rhythm going again.

Spencer pulled her back in again, arching her back so she could bounce easier. She held him close, tucking her face into the crook of his neck as she started to move faster and faster on him. Hearing his breathing pick up as his grip tightened on her asscheeks.

She kept one hand in his hair as her other hand reached for her clit, pleasuring herself slightly the way she knew she liked it. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered against his skin as she fucked him.

It had never felt like this before, it was so personal for the first time. They worked together perfectly, not having to communicate at all, following the other person’s rhythm like a well-oiled machine with a task.

He felt her everywhere. Her hands in his hair, her lips on his neck. The way her hot breath tickled right under his ear as she tried to catch her breath against him. The way she pulled off him and sucked him back in, again and again, her breasts against his chest and her ass in his hands.

He couldn’t believe it. That a real human being cared about and appreciated him, even after learning his worst secret. She was special and different and everything he needed.

He could feel himself getting closer, wanting to savour every moment with her that he could. His hands roamed her back, over her shoulders and arms. He wanted to touch every single inch of her while he had the chance.

“I’m so close,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and resting her open mouth against his.

They weren’t kissing, they were panting over each other with their foreheads resting together. Euphoria filling the empty spaces between them as she came, gasping and shaking violently over him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, bending his knees and driving into her a few more times before he finished.

She tugged on his hair then, biting his bottom lip as she felt him twitch inside of her. Letting out the smallest gasps and whimpers as she pulled her hand out from between them and pushed herself off him.

Dropping her body against his, resting her head on his chest as they caught their breath.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a hug as he repeatedly kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he was still out of breath as he said it.

She smiled, laughing against his skin again as she hugged him back.

—

He woke up to the sun in his eyes and the feeling of lips against his skin. He blinked as gained consciousness, finding Y/N laying against his chest again. Her face in his heck where she was placing lazy kisses, trying to wake him up nicely.

“Good morning?” His voice was groggy and deep, it made her smile against his skin. A feeling he didn’t realize he missed so much during the night.

“What time is your flight back?”

“10:30, why?” He asked softly, rubbing his hand over her back softly.

She held him tighter, breathing him in deeply as she did so. Not wanting to let him go any time soon, “it’s 9:45.”

“Is it bad I’m hoping there’s a secret serial killer in Albuquerque?”

She laughed again, sitting up this time so she could look at him again. “Maybe I’ll come to visit my parents soon a find a reason to stay in Virginia?”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, pulling her into a kiss. Never wanting it to be the last one.

He waited till the last possible moment to finally peel himself out of her grasp, trying to find all his clothes and belongings from the night before

He kissed her quickly at the door before taking off down the steps and back to the room he was supposed to be sharing with JJ. He knocked on their door lightly, hoping to every god on earth she hadn’t left yet.

She opened the door and just stared at him with her mouth open, “oh my god?” She laughed.

“What?” He asked, completely oblivious to how he looked.

JJ dragged him inside, pulling him towards a mirror and pointing at his reflection. “What happened to you?”

His hair was a mess, he had hickeys all over his neck. His shirt was barely buttoned, definitely not untucked and he didn’t even have his shoes on. “oh.”

“Oh?” JJ couldn’t believe it. “Who is she?”

“Um, the ME from this case,” he explained, scratching the back of his head as he squinted.

JJ just laughed then, “hurry up and look somewhat presentable, pretty boy, the team is going to eat you alive for this.”

Sure enough, when he finally sat in his little corner of the plane with his glasses on and a hickey still visible above his collar, all eyes were on him. No one wanted to ask, they all just made it abundantly clear that they were curious.

Alvez even took a photo to send to Penelope, who sent it to Derek, who texted Reid only 20 minutes into the flight asking who she was. He rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. About to get really pissed when a second text came in.

555-0623: if you’re still serious about that recommendation, there is a spot available at the DC medical examiner’s office… I’d probably be closer to you than your therapist’s office 💋

He smiled then, saving her number and starting his letter.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Here’s My Problem: I Can’t Get You Out Of My Head

Seventeen + BTS Detective!Jeon Wonwoo x Actress!Reader Characters: Jeon Wonwoo, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Mingyu, Chwe Hansol (Vernon), Seungcheol (S.Coups), Chan (Dino), Yoon Jeonghan Summary: Wonwoo’s cold and calculating personality makes him a top detectivee. He’s currently in the middle of a murder investigation when he meets you, his favorite actress. His mind goes gooey when you’re near him though, and it messes things up for everyone. Can he deal with his dilemma? Word Count: 5k+ Warnings: Mystery, fluff, angst, detective au, actress au, TRIGGER WARNING graphic depictions of violence, stalking, killing, obessession, etc.

A/N: I’m going for that fall out boy/the 1975 kind of song title, ya feel me. And just like my Hoshi fic, I made Jungkook and Wonwoo siblings just because they have the same last name hekhek

And in case you start thinking otherwise, yall this is a work of fiction that does not represent reality at all.

Playlist:

Forget About It - All Time Low

Oh My! - Seventeen

Dream Girl – SHINee

I Love You 3000 – Stephanie Poetrie ft. Jackson Wang

Red Moon – KARD

Love U – Monsta X

Touch – NCT 127

Focus On Me – Jus2

Blue Flame – Astro

Psycho – Red Velvet

Let’s Not Fall In Love – BigBang

Slow Dancing In The Dark – Joji

Try Again – d.ear ft. Jung Jaehyun

Guess Not – eaJ

You Calling My Name – Got7

The Jeon brothers were popular in their neighborhood for being swoon worthily good looking. They were so popular in fact that girls from other schools in their proximity came around just to glimpse at them on the school bus.

The younger of the two, first name Jungkook, was an all around remarkable fellow. He was good at sports and academic, making him popular not only for his looks but as well as his athletic achievements.

The older Jeon on the other hand, Wonwoo, was far more reserved and mysterious. He excelled in his classes and was a top student in his class, but whatever loudness or extroversion his dongsaeng had, he did not possess.

It was somehow a match made in heaven for the brothers. They complimented each other and helped where they could.’

It was unsurprising the two began extremely different careers after graduating, Wonwoo having studied criminology, and Jungkook, filmography. Never did the two brothers think they would get an opportunity to work with each other having left the academic scene, until Jungkook finally got the greenlight to start production on his childhood dream project: a murder mystery film.

To be honest, it was an old, black and white mystery film that shaped the brothers into choosing their careers. Having been so fascinated with solving puzzles since he was younger, Wonwoo remembers vividly how amazed he was at how intricately woven the movie he watched with his brother was. And his said brother, Jungkook, found so much splendor in being able to watch such things, that he told himself he wanted to be someone who made those for a living.

And now here they were years later, working on a murder mystery film together.

Jungkook hired his brother to be as a specialist on set. To be honest, Jungkook thought his hyung would be a little bit more excited about it when he was going to be helping Jungkook not only live out a childhood but as well as be on set for a production he actually enjoyed the genre of.

In fact he had to beg Wonwoo to agree to work with him. Wonwoo argued he was in too deep with real life cases to be focused on the fictional case Jungkook wrote about.

And to be fair, Detective Jeon did not reach his rank for nothing, but neither did Director Jeon earn his reputation for nothing.

Still, the only reason why Wonwoo agreed to his brother because of you.

His favorite actress.

"Hyung," Jungkook calls his brother from the couch, "you should watch this drama. It's really good."

Wonwoo was too busy with his English homework to care.

Jungkook ate some chips and turned to his brother that was sat by the far off desk, "Hyyuuunnnngg!"

Said hyung grumbles, "I'm busy."

"Ya, the girl is really pretty."

"Good for her then."

Jungkook scoffs.

After Wonwoo had finished his homework, he decided to watch with his brother, not before scolding him of course. "You know, you'll be in the last year of your college soon too, so you better stop wasting your time watching dramas."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "I'm literally studying filmography. This is studying for me."

"Aish, what do I know," Wonwoo hisses, grabbing some chips from Jungkook's bag. Once he turned to the screen, Wonwoo felt his eyes widen slightly. "You're right, she's pretty."

"Right? I'll hire her for my murder mystery movie," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

It amazes Wonwoo, even after months of working behind the scenes on this film, that he gets to see you in real life.

Even right now as you acted out a dialogue with another famous actor, Kim Mingyu, it felt surreal when he remembers you're actually just a few steps away.

Jungkook was initially baffled by how star struck Wonwoo was to meet you. I mean, he expected his brother to maybe fan girl, but he flat out blanked when you introduced yourself. For the first time in Jungkook's life, he saw his brother had no wits with him. It's still so hilarious to him that Wonwoo lost his so-called mysterious grace when you smiled.

"Cut! Good take," Jungkook called. He then went over to his brother who was holding a paper bag. It was obvious to anyone Wonwoo was holding some lunch.

Jungkook smiled. He extended his hand out, clearly expecting whatever his brother bought was meant for two, "what is that?"

Wonwoo scowled and moved the brown bag away, "it's not for you."

"Aw what? You bought food just for yourself."

"No. I bought this for-"

"The country's sweetheart," Jungkook teased and wiggled his eye brows.

Wonwoo deadpans and replies dryly, "Yes. Mingyu asked me to buy the sandwich I had the other day."

Jungkook raises his brows and crosses his arms.

Wonwoo clears his throat, "and yes. I bought an extra for her. Why? Can't I?"

Jungkook sneers and slaps his brother's shoulder, "homie is whippedt, with a T."

"What are you? A prepubescent teen?"

"I am cool."

"Ya, is that the sandwhich?" Mingyu calls, suddenly near them. Wonwoo's breath hitches when you smile and wave his way.

Jungkook sniggers softly and decides to watch it play out.

"Thanks, hyung," Mingyu states. Wonwoo and he were close because Jungkook and Mingyu were friends after working so often with each other.

Wonwoo turns to you but looks away when you catch his eye. He clears his throat and finally gains the courage to turn back, "ya... I got you a sandwich too."

Mingyu, who had gotten his sandwich at this point turned to the remaining one in the bag, Wonwoo, you, then pushed the sandwich your way.

You gratefully take the bag and turn to Wonwoo with a grin, "you didn't have to get me one."

Wonwoo scratches his nape, "... the thing is, I wanted to."

Mingyu and Jungkook turn to each other with wide eyes. You chuckle and feel blood rush up your neck.

"You know actually--" Wonwoo starts but gets cut off by his phone ringing. Jungkook eyes him hotly, trying to telepathically tell him not to answer it, but Wonwoo does anyway.

Mingyu rolls his eyes as Wonwoo begins to get into a deep conversation with whomever is on the other line.

Once he's done, Wonwoo turns back to his brother and says, "there's been another murder, I have to go."

Jungkook only nods and doesn't stop him, not that he would, not thay he could. It was terrifying to know that his older brother was so close to bringing a serial killer in.

It started long before production to Jungkook's latest project began. Missing person reports for college girls began to get filled, soon after these girls would be found dead. Initially, theses cases were treated separately since the incidents were scattered all over the city and were seemingly random. It had only been a few months since authorities announced the murders were done by the same person.

It was Wonwoo who spearheaded the investigation.

Wonwoo was on his way to his car to get to the latest crime scene when he was pulled from the back of his coat.

He quickly turn to see what it was holding him back and felt his cheeks burn at the sight of you panting and smiling, "hi."

Wonwoo raises a hand.

You huff, "detective Jeon."

"Yes."

"To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure if you like me or not. You don't really pay me much attention, but when you do you're awfully sweet when you're not avoiding eye contact."

Wonwoo opens his mouth but closes it right after.

"I understand you're a very busy person, and again I'm honestly not sure if you even like me, but I wanted to aks anyway: would you accompany me to a party next week?"

Wonwoo audibly gasps to which you gasp and giggle to. At this point, Wonwoo's face is burning, he can feel it, but he manages to nod, "I would love to."

You break into a smile and nod, "okay? Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay. Next week, friday, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay good."

tIt was honestly not tha good, considering Wonwoo couldn't stop thinking about it. How was his brain going to get through this crime scene before him when all he could think about was you. It was a real problem. Every time he looked into the room, he found something that reminded him of you, the laundry scattered in the bedroom floor, the posters of celebrities on the wall (to be fair there was one of you in the room), the trinkets on the table. Your everything was fogging his head.

He was lucky Hansol was as sharp as ever because it seems not even the putrid smells in the air was snapping Wonwoo out of his trance.

The date- was it a date (YES IT'S A DATE HYUNG -Jungkook)- came both quickly and agonizingly slowly.

Wonwoo wore a new suit he brought just for the occasion, and for that he was grateful, because this party you took him too was a lot fancier than he had anticipated. It was apparently one of those exclusive events that select people got invited to.

To say Wonwoo was intimidated and out of place would be completely accurate. He was never a party goer, even in college, but if it meant he got to see you dressed up in a rose gold dress and red lipstick then count him in.

Wonwoo tried to stay as close as you as possible-- not for any perverted reason, but so he wouldn't lose you and to protect you from anyone who would dare attempt anything perverted.

You forced him to dance though he never really danced much, but much like the reason why this party was appealing, he enjoyed dancing because of you.

Bless your soul you noticed how awkward Wonwoo looked and decided to call it quits for the dancing. The rest of the night was then spent drinking champagne in the venue's tiny balcony. It was honestly the first time you two had talked by yourself, and though it was awkward, your heart skipped at how Wonwoo described his passions with his deep voice and how he clumsily complimented you.

Honestly, you thought Detective Jeon was the most attractive man you had ever seen, both outwardly and inwardly. He had been nothing but a gentleman around you and never treated you like a distant celebrity, though the many times you've been told how much a fan of yours he was. You wanted to kiss his lips as he continued to speak, but you controlled yourself.

The most that you gave him was a kiss on his cheek when he called a cab for you. Wonwoo would've drove you home had you not specifically told him not to bring a car cause you two would be drinking.

It was still an amazing night regardless.

Page 6 of the newspapers thought so too, Wonwoo learned, as he walked into the station when he got to work.

Hansol rolled over with his office chair, wiggling his eyebrows, "how you doing there, chief."

Wonwoo pretends like he isn't all smug about it when he is, but when he thinks about how this may be impacting you, he doesn't feel smug at all, "mind your own business, Chwe."

"Ya. It is my business because you're dating my first love!"

Wonwoo snaps at him and sneers, "ya! Focus on your work."

Hansol sneers, "so protective."

Wonwoo mutes him out by putting on headphones that played the soundtrack of his favorite mystery film. As he tapped his foot to the beat, he reviewed the file of the serial murder case he was on.

There were a total of 13 victims-- that's how many films you've been in--

Wonwoo screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. That was the most inappropriate thought he could've suddenly thought of.

He reviewed the latest profile of the victim. She was in her last year of high school and played the flute. Wonwoo recalls how you attmepted to play a flute in a variety show.

Wait.

Stop it.

Shit.

Wonwoo increases the volume of his music. He reads that the victim is from your hometown. This actually makes him shiver. Wonwoo rips his headphones off and decides to take a bathroom break, taking his phone with him. This is where he sees a text message from you that reads: are you coming on set today?

Wonwoo quickly replies: yes.

Can you buy me a sandwich?

Yes.

The rest is history.

From that moment moving forward, Wonwoo's confidence is through the roof.. he not only manages to have a decent conversation with you with other, but even when it's just the two of you. He asks you out, to which you agree. He takes you to an ice skating rink, when he flaunts his skating prowess to your shaky legs. Don't tell him though, but you were faking it so that you can cling on to him tightly and closely. But no one mention either that Wonwoo totally saw through it.

Soon enough you became comfortable enough to cook to take him to your place to hangout. This was were Wonwoo finally addressed something that had been bothering him.

"Are you okay with what's happening?"

You knit your brows at his question.

Wonwoo clarifies, "I mean there are a lot of articles about us. At first it was pretty vague, but now they are mentioning my name in the papers. Are you okay with that?"

You pout and raise your brows, "are you okay with that?"

Wonwoo shakes his head, "I've never really cared about what people thought about me, only my friends and family."

You nod. Wonwoo looks in expectation. You can't help but chuckle, "if you want the truth, it's good publicity. You're a famous detective and the netizens are actually in love with you now because you're so handsome."

"... wait really?"

You pout and cross your arms, "I can't believe you're enjoying that."

Wonwoo can't help but laugh at your faintly jealous reaction. He pulls you to his chest and kisses the top of your head, "well, what I really enjoy is being close to you."

You relax against him and unwrap your arms just so you could cling on Wonwoo's torso.

"But you know what I would enjoy more?"

"Hmm?"

"...if... you became my girlfriend."

You pull away slightly and turn to him. You break into a smile, "I thought you'd never ask."

You then take his cheeks and pull him close to your face. You plant your lips on his and his pulls you closer by the small of your back. The kiss encloses the both of you in warmth. It's electric and so calming all at once. It just... feels right, y'know.

It's just pure bliss for the two of you.

At some point, Wonwoo really wasn't need on set anymore, and yet he came around to visit you and Jungkook. Who were you fooling, clearly Wonwoo came around to see you.

He would sometimes be able to take you out to lunch, depending on both of your schedules.

One this for sure was, you clearly both loved each other.

But that shouldn't have been affecting him so badly at work. It perturbed him that everywhere he went, too often even on his case that he thought of you. It disgusted him so much. He pushed all these thoughts away whenever it sprang into mind.

Wonwoo leaned back on his chair and turned from the evidence board he had been staring at for the last ten minutes, to the cup of coffee on his desk. He begins to recall one early morning he spent drinking some hot brew with you.

He smiles. Now that is a welcomed thought.

"I still don't get the correlation," Hansol spoke, making Wonwoo turn to him. He continues, "I'm starting to think that maybe the killer is just fully psychotic."

Wonwoo sighs, "the chances of him being a random picking killer is pretty slim at this point. Some of these girls are the same height and build, and some of them play the same instruments."

"Yes, but they have nothing collectively in common."

Wonwoo shakes his head, "there has to be. My gut is telling me there is."

Wonwoo's phone rings, except it's not his handphone but his work telephone.

"Hello, Detective Jeon from Seoul district 1 station."

No one replies, but there is heavy breathing from the other end. Wonwoo stands from his chair and presses the record button on his phone.

"You can't get her!" he growls in anger. He begins to scream and throw things in the background. Wonwoo pulls the phone away at the loudness.

The man on the other end heaves again. Wonwoo asks, "who is this."

"you know exactly who I am, you bastard!"

"No. If I did, you'd be in jail."

He laughs, "you think you're so good, huh?"

"Who and where are you?" Wonwoo asks, turning to Hansol pointing to the phone. He immediately understands and runs off to try and track who's calling form the other line, or at least where he is.

The man is shuddering in anger, "you will never have her. She's mine!"

Wonwoo feels bile rise from his throat, "who is she? Did you kill another girl?"

"Not yet, but I will if you don't back off. She's the only one I've actually loved and you want to take that away from me?"

"If you love her, why would you kill her?"

"SO YOU COULD NEVER LAY A FINGER ON WHAT'S MINE!"

"Women are not posses--"

"I WARNED YOU. STAY AWAY, OR SHE DIES!"

Hansol couldn't trace the call fast enough. And Wonwoo couldn't sleep that night.

This was when his visits began to lessen. He began to fully focus on his work again, no distractions, and for once, he hadn't thought of you. This was a direct consequence however of both sleep deprivation and not seeing you for a whole eight days.

The next day you visited him at work. It caused quite a commotion and Wonwoo's exhausted mind didn't take kindly to that, which was why he snapped at you and was super cold.

Hansol told him off for rudeness, but he just couldn't rest easy when he could do something at work that could help fins that lunatic serial killer. Chief Seungcheol agreed however that Wonwoo should take a break though.

The moment his head was put on straight, he felt extremely guilty for taking out his emotions on you. Wonwoo apologized profusely and of course you couldn't stay mad because you understood how much stress he was in.

But the thing was, he just couldn't get you out of his head. Again and again, everything he did reminded him of you. The evidence even lead him back to you like a compass and it was too much for him too handle.

This was exactly why it hurt so much when Wonwoo decided to let you go for the sake of the case.

He explained everything to you so neatly. "I am so madly in love with you that I see you everywhere. I see you in the sky. I see you in my coffee. I see you in the breeze. I see you in my sweaters. But I see you too in the evidence I have for the case. I see you in the files and the map board, and it's seriously messing with my head."

It was a line out of movie. It didn't mean it didn't hurt. You were crying your eyeballs out. You didn't understand what breaking up could do to help.

"You wouldn't be mine anymore, so that would incline me not to think about you."

You so badly wanted to slap Wonwoo for saying that, but you couldn't, because he was breaking up with you to catch a killer and prevent anymore murders from happening. If he was that bothered, he probably shouldn't be on the case anymore but you couldn't ask him to leave it when he was distracted because of you.

So instead, you turned away and left.

Wonwoo almost ran after you; it took everything in him not to.

"Don't worry, Jeon," Seungcheol comforted, placing a hand on Wonwoo's shoulder, "the sooner we catch the lunatic, the sooner you can get back with your girlfriend."

"Not unless I get her first," Chan from forensics chimes in, walking with new files of evidence.

"Dude," Hansol barks.

Chan gives an innocent face, "what? I'm trying to lighten the mood." He then hands the file over to Seungcheol, "here you go chief. The killer branded the latest victim's neck with three squares."

Wonwoo spins on his office chair.

Hansol knits his brows deeply, "has he done that with the other victims?"

"No. This is the first time."

Seungcheol places a hand on his chin, "wait. Why does this seem so familiar to me?"

Hansol watches Wonwoo begins to spin the other way around.

Seungcheol shakes his head and rattles his brain for some answer. He suddenly turns to Wonwoo, "ya. Do you know 'The Sleeping Tower'?"

Wonwoo turns to Seungcheol, "yeah, the killer in that drama marked his victims with three squares."

eSungcheol has goose bumps. Hansol turns to Wonwoo, "wait, what is The Sleeping Tower?"

Wonwoo says faux nonchalant, "a drama my ex is in."

Hansol pulls his head back.

Seungcheol moves to the evidence board, "wait just a second, Wonwoo. Did you say all the evidence point to her?"

Everyone shifts their attention to the chief. Wonwoo stops spinning on his chair, "are... are you telling me wh-"

"What do you see, Wonwoo?" Suengcheol asks.

Wonwoo stands form his chair and walks over. He begins to explain the correlation between you and the evidence and the... victims' personality. He argues with himself as he explained what he saw. As he pointed out one thing, he disagreed it could make sense. Wonwoo continued on like that until he actually hears himself say it. This is the first time he’s ever said all this aloud.

Hanson and Chan turn to each other in bewilderment as the detective being to point out strong points.

Wonwoo nearly falls down when he realizes it. Seungcheol turns to him, but Wonwoo's already bolted out the door.

Wonwoo is calling you nonstop. He's gripping the steering wheel so hard.

It all makes sense now. The shirts, the hobbies, the physical attributes, they were all yours. The victims had your merchandise, liked things you did, had procedures done to look like you-- they were your fangirls

And the killer was obsessed with you.

Wonwoo stepped on the gas and turned the siren on.

He screamed your name when he got to your home. You lived in a quiet apartment complex. The good thing about that is the people would be alerted by suspicious people and noise, there were bound to be at least eye witnesses, and there would be cameras in the area.

Wonwoo still had the keys to your apartment. His hands quivered as he jammed the key open.

Once he stepped in someone screamed, "YOU'RE TOO LATE!"

Wonwoo fumed as he saw a long haired man laughing as he stood an open window. He took a moment to assess that he has nothing but a twisted look on his face, he had nothing on his hands or clothes. He charged for him, which in hindsight may truly have been a bad move because he got kicked in the gut.

"I have nothing to live for anymore," he whispers as Wonwoo recoils at the assault. It enrages the detective, and it drives him with enough adrenaline that when the psychopath tires to jump out of the window, he catches him and sequentially bashes the guys face into the sill. He pulls him away and begins to assault his face.

Wonwoo is screaming with tears running down his face when it dawns to him the psychopath said it was too late. He pulls away from the knocked out man. He is shaking.

He screams your name and looks for you in every room. His mind is racing. He’s just too frantic to even begin to think what could have happened to you. He falls to his knees when he reaches the bathroom. There is red scattered everywhere and tub full of it. He makes a desperate sound.

He can't see properly from all his tears. He quickly crawls to the tub and heaves heavily when he sees the body in it.

Wonwoo's hand his trembling when he takes on of yours and feels for a pulse. His lips quiver when he can't find it. He turns to your submerged face and gently moves it to try and get a pulse from your neck. He reels back and makes a horrible sound when he finds a long slice that is gushing out red. Wonwoo at this point is sat on the wet ground, trembling with tears.

He is out of his wits.

He has no idea what to do.

He doesn't even notice that the police team is already here. The next thing he knows is he isn't in your apartment anymore. He is inside a police car, he thinks.

Wonwoo is numb to it all-- the sounds, the flashing lights.

He wonders how he wound up in his brother’s house, and how they both ended up crying in each other’s arms.

"Breaking News: After finally a week's worth of trial, the Supreme Court rules 25 year old Yoon Jeonghan triple life sentence after finding him guilty of the murder of 14 women. He admitted to his crimes and claimed they were out of love. He was a deeply obsessed fan on one if his victims, the actress who was recently given a memorial three days ago. Detective Jeon Wonwoo, who was head investor of the serial killing case, was awarded a medal of honor for apprehending Yoon, which he declined. Detective Jeon was also the boyfriend of the late actress, and was seen with his brother, Director Jeon Jungkook, at the service saying a few words in memoriam of the country's sweetheart."

[whetstonefires]

in the shadows

hey guess who has two thumbs and just spent 5 hours straight writing another batman AU?

-

Batman wasn’t a person.

He faked it very well. When the League gathered, the line of his mask against pale skin looked natural and human, a little more perfectly fitted than the Flash’s but not quite as perfect as Green Lantern’s, which was an energy projection and not a real object and thus lay against his face flawlessly, without shift or gap.

His mouth didn’t bend into many expressions and his body language wasn’t voluble, but the emotive gestures that he did make were pretty normal. The rare smile seemed honest. He had a heartbeat, perfectly steady. His shadow (almost) always matched the shape that was blocking the light.

The stories that came out of Gotham, about the Bat—those could be exaggerations, born of terror and manipulated perception. Clark, of all people, knew how much you could convince people to believe things that weren’t real, because they made a better story. Even the scraps of photography and film showing a towering thing of black fog and long fangs could have been some clever trick with projectors.

The fact that Superman couldn’t see through his suit just meant it was well made.

He’d had to pool his observations with Diana and J’onn before he’d been sure he wasn’t imagining things. But Martian Manhunter knew shapeshifting, and said the block against his mind when he tried to touch Batman’s thoughts did not feel quite human. And Superman knew what posing as human looked like. And Wonder Woman knew truth, and its absence.

Batman wasn’t human. Which wasn’t the problem, of course.

The problem was that he was pretending he was. Pretending it rigorously in a situation where there shouldn’t be any need, unless he had something worse to hide. Pretending it in a way that overlaid on a certain inhuman predatory grace began to look very dangerous indeed.

Superman could see both things in him now, watching narrow-eyed through a roof into the room where Batman bent over a child’s bed, cape swirling up larger and darker than he let it get around them. The man and the hungry creature, flipping in and out of focus, neither ever gone but superimposed, like a trick picture that was two things at once.

Knuckles ghosted over the boy’s cheek, claws turned inward, and the child sighed softly, and sunk deeper into sleep. Batman’s heart wasn’t beating, but Clark could monitor the child’s vitals easily from here.

Batman drew his hand back, and tipped his head up—looking back at Superman as though the roof was no more a barrier to his perceptions than to Clark’s. Waited a beat, as if making sure his attention had been noticed, and then passed soundlessly between the other beds to the window, slid it open, and launched himself out through it and up onto the roof.

He didn’t bother to restrain himself to even a plausible approximation of human limits, now. The arm he reached up to the edge of the roof to pivot himself up by was too long, and his shoulder rotated further than it should have been able to, and he landed with impossible soundlessness in a billow of cape that was far, far larger than any cape that only reached to his heels should have managed, and which faded out at the edges into shadow. He knew he was found out.

Superman took the obvious invitation, and sunk down to join him. It was better, sitting like this, facing the same way on the ridgepole of a two-story building. Batman hadn’t hurt that child, that he could tell. There was no need to make this a confrontation.

“I don’t understand why,” he said at last. Out of deference for sleeping children, he kept his voice soft—he would have worried about a human being able to hear it, but now he knew he didn’t have to worry about that with Batman. “Why go to so much trouble to deceive us? We haven’t kept secret what we are. Not from you.”

Alien, alien, user of alien weapon, magical princess…

Batman sighed. He spoke almost as softly as Clark had, and his voice sounded the same as ever, except for the fact that a human voice couldn’t get this quiet without falling into a whisper. “I’m not like you.” He turned.

He’d let some of the details of his human mask fall away—what must have been the exhaustively rendered texture of skin, the flakes of dry skin on chapping lips, a crease at the corner of his mouth that had suggested he scowled or smiled more, outside of his costume. There was no pretense of a jawbone, under the skin, though the jawline externally hadn’t changed. The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

“You’ve visited that kid every day for weeks,” Clark said. “Why?”

Batman stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Batman…”

“You’re confronting me now because you’re worried about my intentions toward Dick. He changed your mind about something. Ergo, you’ve been sitting on this for a while. How long have you known I wasn’t real?”

That was such a bizarre choice of words Clark almost skipped answering the question to chase it down, but he held himself back. This wasn’t a story, and Batman wasn’t even a hostile source so far, if it had been. “Wonder Woman, J’onn and I pooled our observations about four months ago, in April. We were pretty sure by the time we finished comparing notes.” He shrugged. “I suspected something a long time before that, but it’s hard to say when it started to be more than…a feeling.”

“A feeling,” Batman echoed. “Yes, it would start there.”

“So?” Superman prompted. He had liked Batman. He was the last person who could insist that someone hiding the truth of his own nature was reprehensible, though the sting he’d felt about it was an uncomfortable reminder of how much most of his friends would resent him, if they knew the truth. So he’d meant to let it lie, until Batman chose to trust them, or gave them a reason not to trust him. “Why have you been visiting…Dick?”

It wouldn’t be suspicious on its own—well, not very suspicious, all things considered, in context—except that Batman had changed, around the same time. Diana said his presence seemed deeper, Clark thought he seemed to be having trouble staying within the outlines of his human mask. J’onn agreed that he seemed somehow more powerful.

Batman stayed silent a long time. Eighteen heartbeats from the boy below them, slower than those of his peers because he had an athlete’s conditioning already and was more deeply asleep than most of them. At last, the being beside him confessed, “He’s carrying me.”

“What?”

“You noticed I’m stronger now,” Batman said matter-of-factly, in a way that almost managed to cover up emotion. “That’s his doing. I was…fading, when you met me. Not up to capacity. I’m not really meant to exist that way.” He glanced over at Superman again, as though evaluating his reaction, and Clark wondered if he had really needed to do that—if he really only saw out of his eyes. J’onn could make eyes anywhere he wanted some, but he needed them to see. Batman seemed somehow less constrained by biology than that.

“Is it hurting him?”

“No! No. It…shouldn’t.” Batman ghosted a sigh, voiceless, inhuman as the wind. “I don’t know that it’s good for a child to be around me. But I’m not…taking anything from him. I’m not…feeding on him, if that’s what you think.”

It was what Clark had feared. And probably anything that would eat a child would also lie about it, but Batman was his teammate and very nearly his friend. So it was reassuring to have it so firmly denied. He’d come braced for only a little and no lasting damage and he said it was fine.

“Please,” he said. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I suppose I have to.” Batman tipped his head back, to look up at the few stars that smudged themselves visible through the red blanket of light-polluted smog overhead. Clark could make out more of them, even with his ordinary visible-light vision, than a human could have. He wondered what Batman saw. “Will you tell the others for me? Your little conspiracy?”

“Not Green Lantern and Flash?”

“Hal and Barry can figure me out on their own.” That dry sense of humor was the same, even if it was bending amusement onto a mouth that could no longer pass as human.

A breath Clark suspected he didn’t need was drawn. “A different little boy made me up,” Batman said. “Bruce Wayne. You can look the story up in the newspaper archives.

“It was a little over twenty years ago, in Gotham. A mugger shot his parents in front of him.” Another slanted glance, and then he looked away again. He certainly acted like he needed his eyes to see. “It wasn’t more terrible than things that happen to a hundred other people every day, really. But he was the right kind of terrified and angry, in the right place, at the right moment…the police reports all say he tackled the mugger from behind, and got lucky that the man hit his head. But it was me. I took him down.”

He raised his face back toward the smudged stars. “I was such a small thing, then. If that vengeance had been enough—the killer taken in and sentenced, brought to justice—I would have faded away again. Things like me are summoned and dispelled that way all the time. Or he could have taken me back into himself—the danger was past, it wasn’t a chronic part of his existence, so I would have reintegrated, probably, and not hung around rising up to protect him for the rest of his life, and probably disrupting it in the process.”

That amused quirk to the horizontal slash of a mouth, again. “But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He clung. He brooded. He wanted to protect everyone. And I grew.” Bittersweet and fond. “I grew until I really could help. Until anyone could see me, any time I liked. Until I was solid enough to get in half a dozen fights in one night without my blows starting to go right through the enemy.”

There was no way Batman was letting him know these things about how he worked, when he wasn’t holding back, by accident. They were being given.

“Where’s Bruce now?” Clark asked. Knowing it was probably a painful topic, but hoping to hear it was some rule of magic out of a storybook, that only a child had the right kind of belief to sustain a projection of this nature. That Bruce Wayne had grown up and moved on and had a career and a family, and perhaps didn’t remember that Batman was something he’d made.

Batman’s eyes closed, and vanished completely into the black of his head. He’d kept unspooling all the while he’d been talking, Clark realized, and the gouts and folds and flame-like flickers of his cape now sprawled over more than half the roof, leaving a great circle of open space around Superman himself, and a broad open route away from Batman, as though he couldn’t just go straight up if he wanted to get away. The billows of it had now collapsed in on themselves. His voice, when he spoke, was hushed and solemn, but calm. “He didn’t make it to sixteen. He died tackling a gunman who’d been holding up a corner store where he happened to be, buying junk food he wasn’t supposed to have. The cashier fumbled the register key and bent over to pick it up, and the man panicked and started shooting. Bruce saved lives, that night. But he didn’t survive. Because I wasn’t there. I was away protecting other people, like he’d asked me to.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Inadequate as always, but more so, when he’d pushed for this truth and didn’t even understand enough to know how to offer comfort. He reached out to offer a comforting, boundary-respecting brief pat on the shoulder, like he might have when he had less idea what Batman was, and his hand hung still in the air, as the face Batman turned toward him was human again, so abruptly that even to his accelerated visual perceptions it looked like some sort of glitch.

“This is his face,” Batman told him, and the grief that hadn’t been in his voice before was worn on it, in the pull of the mouth and the bend of pain around the blank white eyes. He looked like he might cry. “The way he would have looked. He never…grew this far, but…”

“In memory of him, then,” Superman said, soothing, and was able to deliver the pat on the shoulder and withdraw. It sounded like Batman was in some ways the only surviving part of Bruce Wayne, and as such had every right to his appearance, but he clearly didn’t think of himself that way, and it wasn’t Clark’s place to try to alter his self-concept, or even make comment when he’d only just been introduced to it. “That seems appropriate.”

Batman shrugged. It looked very human, except for the way the cape parts of him reacted. “I knew it best.”

Had he held the memory of his…creator’s face in his head, updating it carefully to how he would have looked with every year or month that passed? That couldn’t be healthy. It also might be unavoidable, considering Batman’s origins.

“You went on protecting Gotham, afterward?”

“What else would I do?”

“And you joined us. When Starro came.” Batman nodded, as though that was only obvious. Clark supposed it was—when you were a supernatural entity created to protect human beings, why would you not answer a call to band together with other superpowered beings to save the world? “Why did you pretend?” he asked. “To be…”

“Human?” Batman asked. He snorted in derision, either at Clark’s inability to choose a word or his own deceit. “It wasn’t the first time. I talk to the police like this, sometimes. Witnesses. It reassures people, to be talking to a…person.”

That was the same reason J’onn made himself look more human, even in blatant green—it wasn’t entirely unlike why Clark kept his own life as Clark, why Superman didn’t wear a mask. “But why…” He’d gone to such lengths, to maintain the façade. Human jaw and teeth, sculpted solid to catch X-ray vision behind flesh he’d carefully made permeable to it, when even now with the image of Bruce Wayne’s face restored he wasn’t bothering. Consistent physical proportions. Always running close against the edge of normal human limits, of strength and speed and length of jump—not hanging back, but not throwing himself onto the front line either, contributing as much with tactics and analysis as actual combat. “Why try so hard to convince us?”

Batman shrugged. “I wasn’t holding back that much. I told you. I was fading. I was never meant to last. Once it turned out the team wasn’t a one-time thing, I still didn’t want to go through the whole…process of revelation.”

“But you’re doing it now.” Clark found he was grinding his teeth, because he was putting together a picture he didn’t like. “Because. Now you’re expecting to survive.” Batman had been dying. He hadn’t thought it was worth the stress of being honest with them, because he hadn’t expected to exist long enough for their relationships to matter.

Superman glanced down through the roof at the sleeping children, and one child in particular.

“I wasn’t there in time to save his parents, either,” Batman said, and Clark knew that feeling—all this power and yet you could still arrive too late, and be too little. But Batman was defined by that feeling, founded upon it almost, so it probably struck him deeper. “But I was there afterward. I protected him from the followup attacks, meant to stop him testifying about the sabotage he’d witnessed.

“And he clung to me, whenever I came…I do try to comfort them, especially when it’s children, but usually they’re at least a little bit afraid. He wasn’t. And he didn’t have anyone else to cling to. They wouldn’t let his parents’ friends in to see him more than once, and then they left town. And then, after I came to tell him that Zucco and his men were taken care of for good, when I left I felt the distance opening…I realized I was…his, now.”

There was a strange, wondering ache in the way he said it that made it easy for Clark to repress his own discomfort with the idea of anyone belonging to anyone else, and of something that looked like a grown man asserting an intimate personal bond with an unrelated child. Batman was supposed to belong to a child, it was how he’d been made, and he’d expected to die by inches in the absence of the one who’d made him, and now he suddenly wasn’t. This little orphan was the most precious thing in his world, that was plain, and to Clark at least it was equally plain that he felt a deep guilt at replacing the boy who had been his world before.

He wondered, suddenly, if Batman had ever been this honest with anyone in his existence. Had he been this open even with his Bruce, or had his need to protect led him to put on a front, and conceal every uncertainty?

The pale smudge of Batman’s face was still and remote, and his voice was nearly calm, but the darkness of his cape had spilled out over the whole roof now, and it was gently writhing. The route out for Superman, opposite Batman’s main body, had shrunk to the merest footpath. Was that there out of instinct, or a more conscious courtesy?

“You don’t have to leave that,” Superman said quietly, flipping his thumb toward the corridor of open shingle and beam. “I know you aren’t trying to trap me, and it won’t anyway.”

The path snapped shut almost instantaneously, and a little of the strain in the atmosphere faded—Batman had been holding himself back from encircling him completely only with continuous effort. Why? Did he naturally expand to fill the available space? Or was expanding in the form of the cape an expression of emotion that was uncomfortable to suppress, in the same way it was hard to sit still when you felt anxious, or hold your tongue when you got mad?

His teammate’s whole torso was turned away, now, and this too was easy to read—shame at his own inhumanity. In front of Clark, of all people. But then, Clark made it look easy, didn’t he? It even was easy for him, when it came to things like looking like he fit in.

J’onn should have been the one to come. But it disconcerted him not to be able to pick up anything Batman did not intentionally share—Clark didn’t think he’d learned to read human body language yet, beyond the most obvious things—and Batman had been known to use fire.

“It didn’t seem wise to seem to be trying to threaten you,” Batman said flatly, into the night.

“Thank you,” said Superman, because while he didn’t mind at this point, it would definitely have made him uncomfortable earlier, before Batman had made himself so vulnerable. “Could you, do you think?”

A sidelong look. “You’re less invulnerable to magic,” Batman said. “Probably.”

Something to keep in mind. The Flash was the only teammate he had now that he was reasonably sure he could take three falls out of three. Maybe they could start practicing against each other, if they could find somewhere they could risk making a mess on that scale. Sparring—he and Diana had tried it out, gingerly. If Batman wanted to stretch out his re-expanding powers in a secure environment…

“Do you have any plans, going forward?” Now that he had a future to plan for.

“I have someone who helps me,” Batman replied. “Bruce’s guardian, after his parents died. He wanted to leave Gotham, after…but he stayed. To try to help the city, in Bruce’s memory. And to keep an eye on me.” The amusement this time was bitter. “We don’t really get along. He thinks Bruce died because of me—that I made him feel invulnerable, and then didn’t protect him. He’s projecting. But I suppose that’s what I’m for.”

Clark made a face; he didn’t like the idea of people being for purposes. Even people who’d been made. This wasn’t the time to argue about it. “But he helps you?”

“He helps.” Batman glanced down, toward Dick’s bed, as though once again he could see through the roof. “I’m trying to get him to agree to take Dick in. He did a good job with Bruce, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Will that be the best for Dick?” Clark asked, as neutrally as he could manage. He could tell Batman’s intentions were good, but he didn’t know if putting a child entirely within the influence of a supernatural being that had latched onto him, without an external line of support, was a good idea. On the other hand, putting him in the care of an adult who would know he wasn’t delusional could only help. And Clark could be the outside support, if necessary—not that he wasn’t under Batman’s influence himself, but he wasn’t within his circle of it the way this Alfred seemed to be, resentment or not. The resentment might be the most dangerous part.

What part of this train of thought Batman sensed, he couldn’t tell, as his comrade only retorted, “It can’t be worse than here!”

A group home with four beds to a room certainly wasn’t the best environment, but surely he couldn’t be here much longer. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“He doesn’t get much privacy. He agreed to meet with Alfred last time he ducked into a closet while I was there, so now Alfred’s the focus of the plan.” Batman sighed again. “He’s so brave,” he said fondly. “It worries me. I wish he were somewhere safe.”

The wild impulse rose to offer to step in, to take the role of legal guardian if this Alfred wouldn’t. Clark sat on it. He didn’t want a child, he wasn’t equipped to care for a child, CPS would be able to see that perfectly well in a single reporter in his 20s living in a one-bedroom apartment in a somewhat run-down building. He didn’t even live in the same state, and child placement was handled on a state-by-state basis so even petitioning for custody would be horrifically involved, never mind obtaining it. Also, he had a secret identity to protect.

He couldn’t always help. The hardest lesson in life, and one he had to keep relearning.

“So your plans are…to get Dick into a safe home environment.”

“And keep him alive,” Batman affirmed. Quick, and firm, and almost not obvious about what a vital goal this was to him. Keeping this child alive, the way he’d failed to keep the one before.

“Of course.” Clark nodded. If everything he’d been told was true—and he thought it was, it felt true—then there was no need for the League to intervene. Gotham was probably safer than it had ever been. “Can I meet him, sometime?” Partly to do his part as an outside support network. Partly because he was curious, to meet this child who’d been able to reach his hand into Batman’s chest and close his fingers around his heart.

Batman glanced over, and then seemed to relax. Even the endless piles of his cape seemed suddenly to behave more like ordinary fabric. “I passed, then?”

“What?” Oh. Of course he’d known. Clark had hardly been sneaky. “Yes.”

“Not that I know what you were planning to do if I hadn’t.”

Clark didn’t know either, other than get Dick away of he seemed to need it.

“All of this is off the record, of course,” Batman added. It was a testament to how distracted Superman was by Batman’s problems that it took a long second for him to realize the potential implications of that choice of words, and read in Batman’s posture and the way his cape had developed hooks of tension in some of its folds that they were entirely intentional.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“You attended a press event in Gotham two years ago. You still feel like you, no matter how you dress.”

“Well.” Superman tried to shake the sudden tension out of his shoulders. Batman was a good detective and data analyst, that hadn’t changed with the rest of it. He’d certainly tracked down the name of the gentleman from the Planet. “I guess that’s fair. And of course it’s off the record. I won’t even tell J’onn and Diana anything but the basics without your permission.”

“Oh.” Batman clearly hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“You have a right to your privacy.” Clark thought back over his own approach to the whole situation and said, with a gentleness born somewhat of guilt, “You are a person, after all.”

“I’m really not,” Batman said, corner of his mouth ticking up just slightly to underline the easy irony in his voice. But the great spread of cape had fallen into easier, more geometric wrinkles, and Clark was beginning to learn to trust that over what he said with his borrowed face. Though he could almost definitely lie with the cape part of himself, too, if he needed to.

“Don’t…” His tongue flickered across the back of his teeth; be brave, Kent. “Don’t talk about my friend that way, huh?”

[get-your-fics]

Hungry Like the Wolf

Summary: Women who closely resemble you are being brutally stabbed, and a man has been watching you like a hawk. Could they somehow be related?

Paring: Dark!Diego Hargreeves x reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: Smut, non-con, choking, knifeplay, blood kink, mentions of murder

A/N: so here’s my first foray into writing dark!diego fic. if you like it, let me know if you want to be added to a taglist because i have lots more ideas!

You weren’t sure when you first started to notice it.

Maybe it was when you were on your way to work, rushing down the sidewalk. You narrowly dodged people walking the opposite way, shooting you glares as you passed by them. You muttered apologies under your breath, never pausing long enough to make any of them truly count.

You passed by a newsstand, and the front page of a newspaper caught your eye. You slowed your step and got closer. Your eyes scanned over the headline printed in big, bold letters:

KILLER STRIKES AGAIN IN LONG LINE OF GRUESOME STABBINGS

You picked up the newspaper. Right underneath the headline was a photo of the victim. It was a woman. The longer you stared at her face, a sense of unease settled in your gut. There was something vaguely and oddly familiar about it, and yet you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Hey, are you gonna pay for that, lady?” Your head snapped up to meet the eye of the man running the newsstand. “This isn’t a library.”

You immediately put the newspaper back amongst the stacks. “Sorry,” you murmured. You ducked your head and continued along the sidewalk, hoisting the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder.

You brushed off the pit that had formed in your gut. New York City was teeming with crime; you had grown used to the grisly reports long ago. Any murderer who wanted to make a name for himself ought to pick a different city to stand out.

🔪

“Again.”

You raised your fists in front of your face. You didn’t take your eyes off of the boxing pads hovering in front of you. You took a step forward and aimed directly for them. Your right fist made contact with the pad before you immediately snapped your hand back. Pain blossomed through your knuckles. You hissed and shook your hand, trying to ease the sensation.

“Good.” Your personal trainer, Dani, nodded approvingly. “Again.”

You hunched over with your hands on your knees, panting to catch your breath. “We’ve been at it for the past thirty minutes.”

“Don’t look now, but someone else has had their eyes on you for at least that long.” She smirked, looking past you.

You stood up and furrowed your brow. Immediately ignoring her warning, you craned your neck to look behind you and followed her line of sight. Sure enough, she was right. Someone did have their eyes on you, that someone being Diego Hargreeves.

He sat against the wall, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his broad chest. You locked eyes. He wasn’t fazed when you caught him looking. He unabashedly continued to stare at you, the corners of his lips curled into the hint of a smirk.

You quickly averted your gaze back to Dani, your cheeks heating up. You hoped you could pass off the blush as a consequence of your workout.

Dani knew better. “I told you not to look.” She chuckled at your expense.

You cast your eyes downwards. “I hate you,” you mumbled.

She laughed harder, slapping a hand on your shoulder. “I think that means it’s time for a break.” She slipped off the boxing pads. “There’s a coffee place around the corner. You up for it?”

“Yep.” Anything to get out of here.

You unwrapped your hands and grabbed your towel, wiping the sweat from your brow before draping it over your shoulders. You and Dani gathered your belongings and ducked under the ropes of the boxing ring.

You followed Dani around the outside of the ring. You didn’t realize what she was deliberately doing until it was already too late and you were ensnared in her trap.

“Good work up there, ladies,” Diego called out to you as you passed by him.

Dani grinned at him. “Thanks, Diego.”

He shifted his gaze to you, and his eyes lingered on you as you walked away. His eyes were so dark, they didn’t exactly match the smile on his lips. He winked at you and licked his lips.

You shivered and looked away. You uncapped your water and downed half the bottle in one swig, nearly coughing from drinking so fast. Dani stifled a laugh, and you shot her a glare, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Diego Hargreeves was somewhat of a fixture at the gym. From what you knew, Al, the owner, let him reside in the basement in the boiler room as long as he mopped the floors after closing. During the day, he played detective, catching the bad guys and putting them behind bars. He was well liked by people at the gym, although you had never once seen him train there.

You had, however, sensed his eyes on you more and more often recently. He was always just lurking in the shadows, watching as you moved around the gym, never saying anything to you. It was unnerving, the focused concentration in his eyes as he watched you work, worse than any lecherous leers you had gotten from drunks walking down the street. You knew you should confront him, you just didn’t know how to go about it.

Dani, however, had other ideas.

“Aren’t you ever going to say hi?” She walked down the street next to you, bundled up against the cold. “He clearly likes you.”

You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, wishing you could disappear into it. “Then shouldn’t he be the one to say hi first?”

“Don’t be like that. He’s a good guy.” She nudged your side with her elbow. “Easy on the eyes, too.”

You swatted her away. “I hardly know him.”

“Isn’t that what dates are for?” She quirked a brow at you. “To get to know each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always trying to set me up.”

“Forgive me for trying to help you get some.” She held her hands up. “In that case, guilty as charged.”

You laughed along with her, but your laughter quickly ceased. Your face fell. “I don’t like the way he looks at me.” It was like he was undressing you with his eyes, but worse than that. “It’s like he wants to eat me alive.”

She smirked at you. “I could use a man who looked at me like that.”

You entered the little coffee shop and ordered. You waited until your names were called before grabbing your drinks and retreating to a table in the back corner. You took your seat, unraveling all of the layers you had put on to shield yourself from the cold.

“I swear you avoid any man who shows interest in you like the plague,” Dani teased you, sipping her latte. “When are you going to give in and settle down? Aren’t you bored? Aren’t you lonely?”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I have my work and my hobbies. It keeps me busy.”

She snorted. “Spoken like a true workaholic.”

Suddenly, a voice on the TV in the corner drew your attention. Both you and Dani looked up to watch it.

“In the ongoing investigation as to who is behind the stabbings, another murder was discovered last night by Detective Eudora Patch,” a professional-looking woman sitting behind a desk said. “Her name was Jennifer Springley. She is the twelfth murder authorities have found in the past two months as the killings appear to have been increasing in frequency.”

“Holy shit,” Dani muttered under her breath.

“I know,” you agreed. “This is getting out of hand.”

“No, not that.” She pointed up at the screen. “You notice anything similar?”

You looked up to see a photo of Jennifer alongside photos of the eleven other victims. Seeing them all lined up side by side made your breath catch in your throat. Their hair, their eyes, their lips… They were all distinctly the same and terrifyingly familiar.

Dani softly said your name. “They all look like you.”

🔪

Music blasted in your ears as you smacked the hell out of the punching bag in front of you. Your knuckles hurt, and your muscles were sore, but you didn’t stop until it was swinging off the chain it hung from, threatening to break and plummet to the ground in an explosion of sound.

You usually went to the gym after work to blow off some steam, but lately you’ve been going twice as often as was normal. You’ve been on edge ever since you saw that news report at the coffee shop: triple-checking the lock on your door when you’re home, glancing over your shoulder when walking late at night, clutching your keys between your fingers in case you had to fight off an assailant. You had brushed it off as a coincidence at the time. After all, every killer had a type. But that didn’t stop you from worrying and biting your nails down to the quick.

It was a good thing your go-to hobby was boxing. One thing was for sure: if anyone tried to catch you off guard, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You heard a muffled voice over the music, and a hand waved in front of your face. You stepped back and ripped your earbuds out of your ears, not bothering to pause the song. “What?” you snapped a little too harshly.

You no longer regretted your tone when you saw who had interrupted you. Diego stood next to you, a wide smile plastered on his face. “I asked you if you wanted a sparring partner.”

You swallowed hard. It was the first time he had ever addressed you directly, and this time you had no choice but to answer him. “I don’t think it would be a fair fight.” You eyed the knives strapped to his back.

He noticed what you were eying, and his smirk grew. “Because of the knives or because I’d beat you?”

You shrugged carelessly. “Take your pick.”

“Then I think we both know what I’d choose.” He rested one arm on the punching bag. “If you don’t want to spar then, maybe you’d like some tips.”

He struck up position. “When you go in for a punch, you put too much momentum into it.” He mimed a punch at the punching bag. “Anyone could dodge you, and you’d just topple over all on your own. You gotta keep your weight on both feet.”

You pursed your lips. “Thanks for the tip.”

He stood up straight. “Any time.” He looked apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You looked like you were in the zone.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

He rested one arm on the punching bag. “What’s got you all worked up?”

You furrowed your brow, confused as to why he was still interrogating you. You looked around and noticed that outside the windows was dark, and there was no one else in the gym. You must have been so distracted, you lost track of time. Now, it was just you and Diego.

You looked back at him. “Sorry, am I keeping you from doing your job?”

“What? Oh, no.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind the company while I work.”

He stepped close to you, and you were suddenly aware of his close proximity to you in your lack of clothes. You were just in a sports bra and shorts, your usual boxing attire.

You backed away from him and glanced down at your Fitbit on your wrist. “Actually, it’s getting late.” You stooped down to gather your things. “I should be getting home.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you going to walk? At this time of night?”

You shoved your arms into the sleeves of your jacket, hurrying to get out of there. “I live just a couple blocks away.”

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I’ll drive you.”

You blinked at him. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Please? It’ll make me feel better, what with all those murders recently.”

You froze, your blood going cold. “Murders?”

“Yeah?” He quirked a brow at you. “All those stabbings on the news? You haven’t seen them?”

You nodded. “I have.”

“Then you should know it’s not safe out there for a girl like you.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “I can handle myself.”

He looked you up and down and laughed. “I’m sure you can.” He reached out and grabbed your hand. “Please, just humor me then.”

You stared at him. It was clear he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, even if that meant hauling you into his car himself. And you’d rather not push him past that point.

You slowly nodded. “Alright.” Let’s get this over with.

His face broke out into a big smile. “Great. My car’s parked just out front.”

He kept his hand on yours as he led you out of the gym. His touch felt hot, like a brand on your skin. He let go to open the door to the passenger’s seat for you. You got in his car, and he rounded the front to get in on the other side.

You sat with your arms crossed and your bag in your lap, staring straight out the windshield. He tried to make conversation with you as he drove down the city streets, about where you grew up, what brought you to New York, what you did for a living. You indulged him with one word answers, his voice filling the gaps in between. You weren’t exactly eager to get to know him.

He pulled up in front of your apartment building and shifted the car into park. He looked over at you, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on the console between you, like he was expecting something.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said what you thought he wanted to hear. You shrunk back towards the door, grabbing the handle.

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled at you a little too widely. His gaze was dark. “Let me walk you to your door.”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he got out of his car the same time you did. He followed you into your building and up the stairs to your floor. You walked down the dimly lit hall. You didn’t live in the nicest area of town, which was a given for anyone making as much as you did. But the lights flickering above you and the stained carpet seemed even more nefarious than usual with him behind you.

You stopped in front of the door to your apartment. You dug your keys out of your bag and twisted them in the lock until you heard a click. You pushed your door open and looked back at him, wondering if he would wait until he was in your apartment to kill you or settle for here in the hall with no one around.

He smiled at you. “Get a good night’s rest.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Anytime you need a ride home, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

You forced a smile back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stepped inside and closed the door shut, immediately turning the locks. You backed away and ran your hands through your hair. Maybe you were letting your paranoia get the best of you. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if not a little oblivious and couldn’t take a hint. Being single for so long must have made you cynical.

Suddenly, you got a shiver down your spine, like you were being watched. You turned around and pressed your hands against the door, peering through the peephole. What you saw on the other side made you gasp.

He was still there, standing in front of your door, just staring. He was no longer smiling. He had that same look in his eyes he had while watching you in the gym, except ten times worse. It was intense. He looked like he was deciding something and he hadn’t yet made up his mind, still weighing his options.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing in case he heard you. He stood there for what felt like hours. You wondered if he could sense you on the other side. You were sure not even the three locks and the chain on your door would be enough to keep him out if he wanted in.

Whatever he had been deciding, he must’ve come to a conclusion, because suddenly he retreated down the hallway, his footsteps so quiet you wouldn’t have heard them unless you had been listening for them.

When you were sure he was gone, you spun around and pressed your back against the door. You slid down it, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees to your chest. The fear that seized you was made even worse when you realized you hadn’t told him your address when he drove you home.

🔪

You marched through the gym with a determined look on your face. You ignored people you usually saw who greeted you. You didn’t stop at the locker rooms like you normally did. You kept on through the main area of the gym, looking as if you were on a mission and nothing could stand in your way.

You knew it was Diego.

You had stayed up all night, staring out the peephole, waiting for him to return when he thought you were asleep and break in. You didn’t catch a wink of shut eye. You were glued to the door, going through all the possible scenarios in your head of how you would defend yourself. He never came.

But you knew it was him. There was no other explanation for his peculiar behavior. He had had his eye on you for months now. You were clearly his next target. You were surprised he had waited this long to make his move.

Or maybe he liked watching his prey panic. He drove them to the brink of madness and, once they were vulnerable, found the perfect time to strike. You suppressed a shudder.

You needed to find something to confirm your suspicions. Plus, if you were going to try to turn him into the police, you couldn’t show up empty-handed. You needed proof, and quickly, before he got bored of toying with you.

Lucky for you, you knew where the dragon’s den was.

You turned down the hallway away from the gym and bumped straight into a chest. Your heart leaped in your ribcage when you thought you had run into the exact person you were trying to avoid, but relief washed over you when you looked up and saw Al, the gym owner.

“Whoa, where you going?” He raised his brows.

“Um, I was looking for the bathroom,” you quickly fibbed, fidgeting with your fingers.

He narrowed his eyes at you, but if he noticed you were off, he didn’t mention it. He pointed behind you. “Over there, on your left.”

“Thanks. I must’ve gotten turned around.” You laughed awkwardly. “Hey, by the way, have you seen Diego around today?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, kid. He’s out on detective business right now.” He smirked at you. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear you were looking for him, though.”

He passed by you. You waited until he was out of your sight to continue down the hall. Hopefully, when he told Diego, you’d be long gone and at the police station by then.

You spotted the door to the boiler room. You walked over to it, looking both ways down the hall to make sure no one was coming your way. Then, you grabbed the knob and twisted it. Fortunately, it was unlocked.

You slowly pushed the door open with an ominous creak. Light from the hallway spilled into the room enveloped in darkness. You reached inside and felt around for a light switch. Once you found it, you flipped it on, flooding the room with light.

It wasn’t exactly the villain’s lair or dungeon you had expected. Instead, what was most surprising was that it looked like a teenage boy’s room in his parent’s basement rather than a place that belonged to a grown man, full of organized clutter from the floors to the walls.

You wasted no time closing the door behind you and going through his stuff (and there was a lot to go through). You searched high and low, through his drawers, his shelves, under his bed, being careful not to leave any sign you had been there at all. You weren’t quite sure what you were looking for, exactly. A bloody knife, maybe? A severed limb, perhaps? You were sure you’d know when you saw it.

After rifling through all his belongings, you came up with nothing to show for it. You were starting to feel crazy. Had you misjudged him? Jumped to conclusions? You had officially let your paranoia reach new heights. Regardless, you were still getting a restraining order. He gave you the heebie jeebies.

You made to move towards the door when your foot caught on the rug in the middle of the room. It got messed up in the process, revealing what looked like a square indent in the floor. You furrowed your brow and bent down, feeling along the edges of the indent until you were able to lift it up. It was a secret compartment in the floor.

You peered into the hole in the floor. There were a bunch of assorted bracelets and necklaces and rings inside. You reached down and picked up the one closest to the top. It was a heart-shaped locket inscribed with a J. Your mouth went dry. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the J stood for.

Jennifer Springley, the twelfth victim.

There was something on the locket. It looked like rust. You scraped at it with your nail, and it flaked off. Your eyes went wide when you realized what it really was: dried blood.

You dropped the locket as if it had stung you. You looked down and counted twelve in total. You scrambled back from the compartment, fighting the urge to retch. They were souvenirs.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

“Find what you were looking for?”

You craned your neck to see Diego standing in the doorway behind you. He wasn’t smiling. He closed the door behind you with a slam that reverberated in your ears. You didn’t think you had ever heard a louder sound in your life.

He walked down the steps, his footsteps against the concrete like the ticks of a bomb about to go off. “You weren’t supposed to see those.” He stopped before you, and his shadow loomed over you. “Put them back.”

You hurried to replace the top on the hidden compartment and covered it with the rug. You stood up, shrinking away when you found yourself too close to him. “I can pretend I didn’t see anything.”

He took a step towards you. His eyes seemed to devour any light that hit them, like two blackholes in the center of his face. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

You knew he was backing you up against the wall, but you had no choice as he walked towards you, trying to put more distance between him and yourself. “Please, don’t kill me,” you murmured, your voice impossibly small.

He stopped in his tracks, arching a brow at you. “You think I’m going to kill you?”

Your back met the brick wall as you froze, your knees threatening to buckle underneath you. You were too scared to answer. Maybe he was still playing with you.

Suddenly, his face softened. He gently said your name. “I could never hurt you.” He reached out, and you flinched when he grabbed your shoulders. “That’s what I needed them for.”

You stared up at him, slowly growing more and more perplexed. He looked at you with so much adoration, almost doting like a lovesick puppy. “I don’t understand,” you stammered.

He cupped your face in his hands. Your skin crawled at his touch. He leaned down to stare directly into your eyes. “I knew it from the moment I saw you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You were the one for me.”

He ran his hand over your jaw and down your neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how beautiful you are.” He ran the tip of his finger along your throat, tracing an invisible line you couldn’t see. “About peeling back your skin and seeing what your veins look like, about holding your beating heart in my hand.” He settled his hand right over your heart. “About what color your blood is.”

Your heart was racing faster than the flap of a hummingbird’s wings, and you were sure he could feel it. This barely restrained psychopath had murdered other women to satisfy his urge to torture you, and now you were trapped alone in a boiler room with him.

You were supremely and royally fucked.

You mustered a thimble of courage and used it to push his shoulders, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble back a step. “Get away from me,” you snapped.

He raised his brows. “So, that’s how it’s gonna be.” He smirked. “Fine, I’m up for a little sparring match.” He paced back and forth in front of you, like a lion pacing the length of its cage. “Try to make it to the door, or – maybe that’s too much,” he taunted you. “To start, try making it past me.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. The knives strapped to his back glinted in the light. There was no possible way you could overpower him, especially if he decided to fight dirty with his supernatural abilities. You were outmatched. But, there might still be a way you could slip past him, and if you got enough of a head start, you could make it to the gym before he caught you. Regardless, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

You stepped forward and swung your fist, aiming for his jaw. He easily sidestepped you, but your momentum continued, and you sprawled out on the floor.

He darkly chuckled above you. “Looks like you should’ve taken my advice.”

He curled his fingers into the back of your shirt and hauled you towards the twin bed in the corner. You flailed your legs, trying to grab onto anything you could and shrieking at the top of your lungs.

He tossed you onto the bed, and you bounced on the mattress. He immediately crawled on top of you before you could sit up. You bared your teeth and reeled your arm back to scratch at his cheek. He grabbed your hand before it could make contact and pinned it by your head.

He whipped out a knife and held it to your throat. “I would recommend keeping still, or I can make this worse for you.” He dug the edge of the blade into your skin enough to sting. “I wouldn’t make a sound, either.”

You swallowed hard. He had you beat. All you could do now was lie still and take whatever he gave you. Hopefully, he decided to have mercy on you.

He moved the knife down your body and started his work on undressing you. He straddled your thighs and tore down the center of your shirt, splitting it in half with a gut wrenching rip. You sank your teeth into your lips to keep in the sobs that wanted to spill out.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he told you as he cut the straps on your bra. “I was going to win you over eventually. But now you’ve found out, so I guess there’s no turning back.”

You scowled at him. Part of you was pretty sure he didn’t mind taking a shortcut to get what he wanted.

He let go of your hand to strip you of your shirt and bra, discarding your tattered clothes on the floor. His eyes were glued to your heaving chest as your breath quickened, flushed pink. You resisted the urge to cover yourself with your arms.

“Look at you,” he whispered huskily. He cupped your tit in his hand, his thumb stroking your nipple until it stiffened to a peak. “So beautiful.”

He was practically salivating at this point. He looked hungry, like a wolf that had been starved and kept in captivity its entire life until now, when it had finally been set free.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” He held the knife above your tit. “I need to taste you.”

Before you could protest, he pressed the knife into your skin. He made a neat slice right underneath your collar bone, about an inch long and just deep enough to draw blood. Your back arched on the bed, and you couldn’t hold back the pained yelp that escaped your throat.

“Shhh,” he shushed you. He pinched your nipple roughly, and you went still. He dipped down and ran his tongue along the cut he had made, lapping up the slow trickle of blood leaking out. He pulled away, red staining his lips. “You taste even better than I dreamed of. I can’t wait to mark you up more.”

He placed the flat of the knife underneath the button on your jeans and popped it off, shoving them down your legs. He cut off your panties and ripped them off, baring yourself to him. He tossed your underwear and the knife to the floor. Once he had gotten a taste of you, it was clear he was desperate for more.

He grabbed hold of your legs and spread them wider for him. He spat on your cunt, using his finger to spread his spit around your entrance. Your eyes went wide when you realized what was about to happen, and the fight was ignited inside of you once more.

You tried to sit up and push him off. “Stop! Don’t–”

He grabbed hold of your wrists and pinned you back against the mattress. “What a shame,” he tsked. “You were being so good for me.”

He shifted so he held both your hands in one. You wriggled in his grasp, but he remained strong. He used his free hand to undo his fly and push his boxers and jeans down his thick thighs in one swoop. He stroked his achingly hard cock dripping with precum before positioning himself at your entrance.

“I need to claim you,” he growled, rumbling deep in his chest, before he pressed into you.

You whimpered as he forced himself inside of you. He didn’t stop until the head of his cock pushed against your cervix. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pulling back only to sharply snap his hips against yours again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his face contorted with pleasure. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. “You feel so good.”

He set a fast pace, hammering into you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaming down your cheeks, and bit your lip so hard the copper taste of blood flooded your mouth. His hand closed around your throat, and you gasped.

“Look at me,” he commanded, giving your throat an experimental squeeze. “I want you to look at me when I come in you.”

Your eyes shot open and were met with his dark ones. He stared down at you as he rammed into you. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his chest was pressed flush against yours. His breath hit your lips in small bursts of air as he panted. You could tell he was close when his thrusts grew sloppy and uneven.

He spilled into you with a growl, fucking his seed deep inside of you. He rested his forehead against yours and softly kissed your parted lips, a contrast from how roughly he had treated you before. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, licking the blood from your self-inflicted wound.

He pulled out of you, but his hand remained on your neck. “I own you now.” His dark eyes bored into yours. “You belong to me.”

You could only hope he never tired of you.

🔪

Masterlist | Ko-fi

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Informant (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing much! Flirting, mentions of voyeurism(?), drinking, hangovers. 

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: Bit more background this week, not that exciting but some fun moments with Javi and Steve. Alternative title: Meeting your killer and flirting with the boss ENJOY

<-- Previous Chapter  // MasterList //  Next Chapter -->

---

Two months passed quickly and you were settled in well. You were comfortable in your job; you, Javi and Steve made a great team and you were learning a lot from the both of them. You tried to avoid interacting with Carrillo directly where possible, he was still as icy about you as your first meeting. You met Steve’s wife, Connie, and became fast friends with her. She had become one of your closest friends, and a welcome break from the machismo that radiated from your two teammates.

You had even managed to make a few friends outside of work. You met María Parreño at the cafe you visited nearly everyday for lunch. What started out as a little wave, now was lunch together nearly everyday, and the occasional shopping trip at the weekend. María was a sweet girl, funny and very sly when she wanted to be. 

You were careful, giving a fake name and lying about your job. You could never be too careful in Colombia. Plus, with how rich her family were you wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed paths with one of them during your investigation into Escobar’s dealings. So, Maria knew you as Isabela Serrano, you worked in the American embassy on the phones. You had lived in the USA for ten years, hence the accent, and moved back to Medellin after your abuela died. María didn’t take much convincing. 

You enjoyed her company. It was a lot nicer to have a conversation about books you’d both been reading over nice food, than trying to eat over photos of blood crime scenes. Plus, the coffee here didn’t taste like soap. 

“Isabela, can I tell you something,” María turned to you, set her cutlery down and looked over at you seriously.. Puzzled, you put down your drink and smiled.

“Of course, you can tell me anything,” 

“Diego got a new job,” 

Diego was María’s boyfriend. Her father’s mechanic. A total cliché, her father had forbidden them to date but she did it anyway just to piss him off. You didn’t know much about Diego, you’d only met him once or twice in passing when he came to pick his girlfriend up  from a shopping trip. 

“You’re saying that like it's something scandalous,” You laughed nervously, “What? Has he become a stripper?”

“He’s working for Escobar,” She whispered. 

“What?” You nearly choked your coffee in shock. You set it down on the table carefully and leant in a little to listen to her, not believing what she said. It was not an impossible thing, lots of people worked for him in lots of different capacities. You hadn’t expected it so close to home.

“I know! That’s what I said!” She said, “He came home the other night saying he got this new job doing something for Pablo! I said Pablo who, I know lots of Pablo’s. The man just looked at me like I was an idiot! Pablo fucking Escobar!”

“What does he do?” You asked, you had to know how dangerous this could be for you. Or how helpful this could be, you thought. Being close to someone close to Escobar could be invaluable.

“Escobar?” Maria asked.

“No! What does Diego do for him?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “He said something to do with cars,” You relaxed a little at that. Escobar’s mechanic was not a very useful lead. 

You glanced down at your watch and sighed. Your hour was up. Just as you had got to something useful! 

“Shoot I’m sorry María I’ve got to head back to work,” You drank down the last of your coffee quickly and stood up. “But you’ll keep me updated with this Escobar business right? It’s just all so exciting!” You put down your share of the bill on the table and threw on your jacket.

“Of course!” María smiled, “One of Diego’s friends is having a party! You should come!”

“I’ll be there,” You nodded, “Same time Saturday?”

“See you then!” 

Before you left the café you bought two coffees to go for Murphy and Pena as a way of apology for being late back. You had promised to be out less than an hour as Pena had important things he needed to go over with you and Murphy. By the time you got back, he had already started explaining the new information to Murphy in a conference room.

“Then we have-,” Javi was speaking as you walked in carrying coffee for the two men. You instantly recognised the face in the photograph and interrupted him.

“Diego Castillo,” You said. The two men turned to you, confused. Unfazed you passed them  the cups and sat down next to Murphy on the end of the table.

“How’d you know that?” Steve asked. 

“I know him. Or rather his girlfriend,” 

“What?” Steve nearly choked on his drink at your confession.  

“I didn’t think I had to tell y’all everything I do in my spare time,” You laughed.

“Hanging out with Narcos would have good to tell us,” 

“He’s not a Narco, he fixes Escobar’s cars! He’s not anyone important. It’s chill,” You waved him off. He was being ridiculous, ”Besides I’m friends with his girlfriend who has no idea what’s going on. I’ve met him maybe twice” You explained, “María’s a sweetheart, we talk about romance novels and go shopping!”

“Castillo doesn’t fix the cars. He runs the whole road operation,” Javier said. Your jaw dropped.

“Well shit,” 

“Anything else you wanna share?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t know but Monday I might,” You sipped on your coffee before continuing, “I got invited to a party, I was going anyway but-.”

“No, no you can’t go now we know who he is,” He exclaimed.

“This could be invaluable!”

“You’re not allowed to have an informant,” 

“It’s not an informant if I am the one with the info!” You argued.

“Javi? Gunna chime in at any point?” Steve turned to his partner, desperate for some help as you had already spiralled far enough on this idea. You turned to Javi with a determined look.

“They don't know my name, they don’t know where I work,” You explained rapidly, “I know what I am doing, just trust me, please?” 

“Fine,” Javier broke easily. The idea made sense.

“What the fuck! Javi she-,” 

“She’s right. Neither of us is going to ever get that close and she’s new here, people don’t know her and you said you gave them a fake name?” Pena explained, you nodded, “Technically she won’t be breaking any rules if she’s the one feeding us information directly,” 

“If anyone finds out-“ 

“No one will find out, it stays between us, in this room,” Javier said gravely, “I trust you Y/n,” 

You smiled and nodded, a sense of pride washing over you. Steve muttered and grumbled under his breath but he didn’t outwardly complain so the decision was made. You were going to feed information you found out through Maria to the DEA, going undercover. Nobody had ever mentioned no undercover work, the idea of sending a rookie into that kind of situation was insane, but you wouldn’t be technically breaking any rules. 

--

The party was a bust. There was nothing of interest apart from the attendee’s themselves. Everybody was civil, there was no talk of business- as explicitly called for by the hosts, and apart from one fight between two guys over a soccer match there really was nothing to report. You spent the evening with Maria and her friends, drinking and dancing. Having a good time. 

They were decent enough people if you ignored the way they all got their wealth. A little hard to relate too at times- you didn’t have a private jet or a house with a huge pool but Maria’s friends were surprisingly friendly and once the jokes about being a gringa were out the way they seemed to like you. 

There was no information but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a well worth evening. You had their trust now. That would be invaluable moving forward. 

--

It was payday. Everyone you worked with was going out for the evening to let loose. You were with a large group of people from the office. Some you recognised, some you didn’t but either way you were having a great time chatting to people. The alcohol was cheap, the music was great and the company was perfect. Nobody here complained that their dad wouldn’t let them import Italian handbags anymore or that their pool wasn’t big enough. You felt much more at home here, amongst peers and friends.

After a few hours of chatting to people, you retreated to a table with Javier and Steve. Eventually even Steve left, leaving just you and Javi alone. You were drunk, no other word for it. Your eyes were heavy, a grin plastered on your face and you swayed in your seat to the music listening to Javi talk. 

You rested your hand on your head and watched Javier for a moment. He looked very handsome, as he did nearly every day. He wore a blue jean jacket, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top showing off his tan skin. You watched as he smoked a cigarette, watching girls at the bar. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, you wondered if you weren’t sitting here as his rookie if you would catch his attention. Before you could think, you asked the question aloud. 

“If I was just a random girl in the bar, would you hit on me?” You asked, sipping your drink.

“I’m not answering that!” Javier laughed, “I know you,”

“I’m hot! Why wouldn’t you?” You exclaimed, “Hot girls not your type?”

“You’re not my type,” Javier corrected you. You gasped dramatically.

“I’m taking offence to that! Your type is anything that breathes,”

“You think so little of me,” He shook his head solemnly.

“Baby I’ve known you for months now. You don’t have a type!” 

“Baby?” Javi smirked at you. 

“Shut up I’m drunk,” You dismissed him. 

“Well what if I ask the same question to you?”

“Would I hit on me? Absolutely!” You exclaimed.

“No! Would you hit on me?” 

“Nah,” You shook your head and screwed up your nose.

“Liar!”

“Am not!”

“Come on don’t pretend like you wouldn’t,” He said, “You’d be all over me,” The energy shifted as he looked at you. Immediate eye contact, his dark eyes looked you over quickly drawing you into him. He leant forward slightly as he readjusted himself on the chair and brushed his bottom lip with his thumb drawing your attention to them. Your breath hitched, lips parted and your eyes flickered to his lips. Was he going to kiss you? Suddenly he broke the eye contact and laughed, settling back in his chair. “See! You would,”

Dazed you shook your head and cleared your throat. Javi smiled smugly.“No, No! That's not fair! You being smoother than fucking peanut butter doesn’t mean I would hit on you if I saw you! You’re old and grumpy looking, I like my men young and energetic,”

“So I heard,” He said as he tipped his drink into his mouth.

“Hey! That’s gross,” You exclaimed when you finally realised what he meant.

“Goes both ways, Baby, if you can hear me I can hear you,”

“So you listen to me fuck?” You countered. Javi choked on his drink.

“N-no I-,” Javi stuttered ands tumbled over his words, blushing slightly

“You do! Dirty bastard!” You exclaimed. “Do you get off to it?” You asked, quieter now leaning in closer to him. Javi didn’t reply, taking a gulp of beer and breaking your eye contact. You laughed again, “Javier Peña speechless! Wow! Pretty sure I can retire now and I’d be happy,”

“I’m getting another drink,” He grumbled, getting up from the table.

“Tequila please, Baby!” You called after him. 

—

You woke up with the worst hangover you had ever felt. Before you really opened your eyes you darted to the bathroom to throw up. You groaned into the toilet bowl, annoyed at yourself more than anything that you had gotten so drunk. You didn’t remember coming home, didn’t remember leaving the bar. The last thing you remembered was sitting with Javi drinking tequila like it was water. The memory made you gag again, how did he ever get you to drink tequila?

You padded into your tiny kitchen to get a glass of water, and start your usual fix all hangover cure. Salted chips and Coca Cola. The sugar and salt combination would do wonders and had saved you multiple times after a heavy night before training back home. You found a bag of chips in the cupboard but no cola. In fact, your fridge was practically empty, bar an old jar of salsa that you were pretty sure had been sitting there since before you arrived in Colombia. The idea of having to go out to the shop made you want to cry. You rested your head on the fridge door and groaned as another pulse shot through your skull. Then you had an idea, the Murphy’s would probably have some! 

You could tolerate seeing other humans at least for a few minutes. So you pulled a pair of shorts on and a vaguely clean t-shirt, took your keys and went across the hall to your favourite couple. The hallway was bright as sunlight streamed through the open window, you winced and shielded your eyes. You knocked twice on the door, the established knock for friends, and took deep breaths as you tried to not give into the need to throw up again. After a moment, Connie opened the door, a wide grin on her face when she saw your fragile state.

“Good night?” She teased you. You frowned and pouted at her.

“Remind me never to go out with Javi alone ever again,  I can’t remember leaving that bar,” You groaned. “Do you have any pain killers? And some cola,”

“Cola?”

“Yeah. Cola and salted chips, the best hangover cure. Got the chips but no cola and the idea of going outside today makes me want to off myself,”

“Come on in I’ll see what I’ve got. The boys are in there,” She let you into the apartment and disappeared into the kitchen. Javi and Steve sat on the couch watching TV in the living room, the noise made you wince.

“Afternoon Rookie,” Steve greeted you smugly. You grimaced and leant on the arm of the couch next to him.

“What's the score?” You asked, watching the soccer match on screen for a few moments. 

“3-3,” Steve answered.

“I’ve got Pepsi, that's okay?” Connie called from the kitchen. 

“Yeah! Anything’s fine,” You called back.

“Can’t you go buy yourself cola instead of stealing mine?” Steve complained.

“Your wife said I could have it Murphy, suck it up,” You shove his shoulder weakly, “Besides, I’m pretty sure if I step into direct sunlight I’ll burn to ash. I’m taking your cola and retreating to my bed,”

“What did you two even get up to after I left?” 

“Ask him, I cannot remember,” you laughed. 

Javi looked up briefly, took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged. He looked as rough as you felt. Neither of you had come out particularly well.

“Here you go sweetheart,” Connie returned to the living room with a bottle of Pepsi in her hand and a small box of painkillers.

“You’re a star Connie what would I do without you,” You stood up from the couch and took the items from your friend. “Later boys,”

“See ya Monday Rookie!” Steve called after you. 

Next Chapter -->

--

oop Rookie and Javi flirting?!? Could never. Also coming next week this ish is getting a whole lot angstier again. I can never keep things nice for long haha

Tagging:  @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls​ @urbankaite2​ @whataloadofmalarkey​ @ahsofka​​ @yeetus-my-feetus​ @sara-alonso​ @lesbianlena​ @xiao-lusi​ @all-good-things-have-an-ending​ @eternallyvenus​ @ajeff855 @mayangel19​ @1950schick​

[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - First Mission

 She was late.  She was late. She was sooooooooo late. Stupid last minute fabric misorder that caused a backup in production, which left everyone scrambling and rushing to figure out a solution.  Bright side, they figured out a solution that was better than the original and Marinette was a huge part of it, gaining her accolades from her supervisor and the director of design.  Down side, Chimera was now extremely late for the mission briefing. Her first mission briefing.  She would be lucky if she made it there before it was over.

Marinette ducked into an alley close to the zeta tube and transformed. She grimaced as she stood in front of the opening.  There was no way to make this discrete.  It was going to announce her lateness for everyone to hear.  She couldn’t portal in just to avoid embarrassment because that was considered “personal use” and she didn’t know how much time they would have before they had to leave so she couldn’t take the chance that she would have to detransform, feed Kaalki, then retransform.  So she was just going to have to deal with the extreme embarrassment. She took a deep breath and walked through the opening.

“Recognize Chimera B12”

Chimera let out a deep sigh.  Yeah, there was no way they didn’t hear that.  She looked at the Team and noted their expressions.  Not as bad as she had been expecting, but she still felt terrible. She rushed over to the Team, standing behind everyone and trying to give Batman’s image on the screen her full attention.

When Batman paused to pull up a schematic of the area they were focusing on, Superboy leaned over to her.  “You’re late.” He said in a quietly gruff voice.

She looked up and scowled at him.  “I’m aware,” she hissed back.  “Couldn’t get away.”

“Right.  It’s not like we’re doing anything important here.” He sniped quietly.

“I know we are.  But my personal life is important too.  If I don’t keep my… outside deal happy, I don’t stay here. I get sent home and I am no longer on the Team.”  He furrowed his brow in surprise.  She frowned at him, feeling guilty for not being faster and looked back toward Batman. “It’s a balancing act.  A balancing act I’m clearly failing at.  Sorry.”

He watched her for a few more seconds before returning his attention to Batman as well.  “Sorry,” he grumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Now that Chimera has arrived, I’ll review roles.  Aqualad, Artemis, Kid Flash, Robin, and Superboy, you will all be on tracking duty. You will work together on the ground to track the subject.”  They nodded at him.  

“Chimera, you will be on distance reconnaissance, observing the team from a distance.  I don’t want you interacting unless necessary.  Nobody knows about you yet and I want to keep it that way.  I want you calling out positions when needed and using mirage if necessary.”  She nodded at him.  “When you find him, report in, and I’ll recover him.  DO NOT ENGAGE.  If at any point you need assistance, CALL IT IN.  Don’t try to prove yourselves by doing it on your own. Everyone needs help sometimes. Make sure you are reporting your movements.” His voice made clear there was no room for argument or leeway in his statement.  He stared at each of them to make sure they all understood how serious he was.  “You leave in 5.”

The ride to the site was shorter than Chimera expected.  As soon as they landed, they tested out their coms and moved off the ship.  Aqualad and Superboy led the way off the ship. Artemis and Chimera followed behind, with Kid Flash and Robin bringing up the rear.  After a few seconds they heard Kid Flash over the coms “What do you think I need to do to get Aqualad to pair me up with Chimera on the next mission? I’d kill for some alone time with her.”

Everyone froze immediately. Kid Flash’s eyes went wide in embarrassment looking at each of them as they reacted.  Aqualad shot him an exasperated look.  Superboy stared daggers at him.  Robin chuckled and moved away from him, leaving him to deal with the repercussions on his own.  Chimera stared straight ahead, her eyes wide in shock.  Artemis continued looking straight ahead as well, but instead of staring at nothing like Chimera, she stared at Superboy.  “If he gets alone time with you, I get alone time with Superboy.” She grinned at him when he gave her a confused look.

Chimera groaned and let out a frustrated breath.  "Are you guys kidding me?” She exclaimed loudly looking at them.  “It’s like Felix all over again.  Can we focus on the mission, please?"

Robin stopped walking and turned back to her.  "Felix?"

Chimera’s eyes bugged out for a second chastising herself for giving away that clue to her identity, before her face went slack.  She turned away from the group and started walking away.  "How about we agree whatever personal information we find out about one another during a mission we ignore?  Now let's track this guy down.  I’m moving to my position."  The rest of the Team looked at each other and nodded.  They would table that conversation until later.  Right now, they needed to focus on the mission. Once Chimera was in her position, they’d move to their own positions.

After about 5 minutes Chimera still hadn’t checked in.  The Team gave each other anxious looks.  They were ready to get moving and didn’t appreciate having to wait to move.  “Chimera, are you in position?”  Aqualad asked through the coms.  

There was a full 20 second pause before her response came.  “Having a bit of trouble getting into position.  I’ve come across a problem.” She grunted.

“If you are lost, you should be able to follow the map on your flute.  Get in position.  We can’t start until you are.” Aqualad chastised her.

They heard a few noises coming from Chimera’s com but no response to Aqualad’s question. “Chimera! Stand down and get in position.”

“Your first mission and already disobeying orders?” Artemis snorted. “Damn, I’m not even that cocky.”

Chimera’s com finally crackled to life again.  “To be clear, you want me to stop fighting the guy that jumped me and is currently trying to kill me?”

“There’s a guy attacking you?”  Robin whipped around toward the direction he thought she was in.

“You thought I was making these noises for fun?” She huffed at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”  Superboy demanded starting to run towards her position.

“I’m just getting my breath back.  He caught me by surprise and got in a lucky hit.” She grumbled.

“Who is it?” Aqualad asked sternly moving toward her as well, but slower than Superboy.

“I’m not sure.  Hey scary looking guy trying to kill me, my teammates want to know your name… uh huh. Really?  I would have thought… I mean, not to criticize,” she grunted a few times as she jumped away from him or struck him, “but isn’t that a little… You know what, I really don’t have the right to critique names as being too on the nose.  He says his name is Killer Croc.”  She paused for a few seconds giving a grunt before speaking again.  “He says to say hi.”  She said slightly strained.

“Damn it.” Robin cursed.

“We’re on our way.”  Aqualad assured her and nodded to the Team to start moving.

“Here already.” Kid Flash reported.  “He’s not even part of the mission!  How did you find him?” He asked incredulously.

“I didn’t go looking for him!  I’m just lucky apparently.” She chuckled out wryly. “Look out, Kid Flash!”

“I’m almost there.”  Superboy called to her.

“Take your time.  We’re just getting to know each other.  He said he wants to have fun with me later.”  Chimera commented with a fake casualness.

“I think your definitions of fun might not match.” Robin remarked drolly.

“Only one way to find out.” She shrugged.

“We’re super excited you’ve decided to come out from the sewers.  We’re looking forward to chatting with you.”  Kid Flash added coldly, running to hit him.  Killer Croc turned just out of his reach and caught him with his tail instead, sending Kid Flash flying down the street.

“Kid Flash!”  Chimera yelled moving toward him.

“I’ll be there in about 20 seconds.”  Superboy stated.  

Chimera nodded even though none of her team could see it and turned back to Killer Croc.  “I’ll have him ready for you.” She whispered to her coms.  “Hey evil killer guy, I heard you were difficult.  You’re really embarrassing yourself here.  I expected better.” She loudly taunted Killer Croc.

“What are you doing?” Superboy yelled into the coms.

They could hear Killer Croc growling at Chimera before she whispered, “Mirage…” but nothing around her seemed to have changed.  Slightly louder she said, “Superboy, expect him from above you in 3, Voyage…. 2, 1.”

Killer Croc lunged at her, throwing his full weight at her in an attempt to break as many bones as he could with his impact.  Instead of hitting her, he found himself falling from a portal in the sky a few stories up.  He braced himself to hit the ground, but it never came.  Instead, he got hit from the side with the force of a building collapsing. He hit a nearby building with a sickening crack.  The force of the impact crushed the bricks where he hit and caused cascading cracks radiating out from the impact site.  

Killer Crock shook his head as he fell to the ground on all fours and looked over where the first hero had been.  Everything looked exactly the same until suddenly she disappeared and a portal stood where she had been.  She reappeared a few feet away at Kid Flash’s side.  He shook his head to try to make sense of the change and looked back to the building that had hit him.  He barely had time to take note of a boy in a black shirt and red ‘S’ stalking toward him, eyes glazed with rage, before the boy raised his arm and punched him again, knocking him back into the building.  

Superboy hit him again and again until Killer Croc passed out from the beating. Superboy raised his arm again but stopped when Chimera laid her hand on his shoulder.  “It’s okay,” she said softly but firmly.  “He’s down.  He isn’t a threat anymore.”

He lowered his arm breathing heavily, still glaring at the villain.

“Where do we want him to go, Aqualad?” Chimera spoke quietly into her com.  “I need a destination to move him.”

“We’ll do it the old fashioned way today and call the police.  I’ll make sure they show you Arkham later.” Aqualad stated calmly coming around the corner to observe the scene.

“Guess you’ll never know if your definitions match up now.” Artemis commented coming up next to Chimera.

“Shame.  He looked… interesting.”  Artemis let out a quiet laugh.  

“How’s he doing?” She asked nodding toward Kid Flash as she moved to check on him. He was now starting to push up onto his knees, though he was still swaying a bit.

“He seems okay, more dazed than anything.  We’ll have to give a better checkup when we get back.” Chimera reported. “I have to recharge anyway. Should I take him back to the ship?” Chimera asked Aqualad.  He nodded.

“Artemis, go with her.  Robin, I want you here to deal with the police.  This is your town, I’m sure you know them.  I’ll call it into Batman and see what he wants to do with the original mission.  Superboy, I want you to keep an eye on him until the police get here.  Do not hit him again unless he wakes up.”  Superboy nodded, never moving his glare from the villain’s collapsed body.

Superboy waited restlessly to check on Chimera, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists the entire time they spoke to the police.  After about an hour, Superboy, Aqualad, and Robin returned to the ship.  Superboy automatically sought out Chimera.  She was sitting with Kid Flash and Artemis, Kid Flash talking and making wild gestures while Artemis and Chimera laughed at him.  Superboy looked up to meet Chimera’s eyes and kept eye contact for a few seconds.   When she smiled at him, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding since she was first attacked and relaxed his hands. Chimera walked over to him and gently laid her hand on his arm.  “You okay?” Her eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m fine.” He growled.  “Are you okay?” He looked her up and down, searching for any signs or injury.  “How could you let him get you like that?”

“I’ll be fine.  I’ve had worse and still won the fight.”  She gave him a small smile.  “He hits hard, but not as hard as some super teammates I’ve gone up against.” He huffed at her, his eyes still furrowed and frowning at her.  “He got a lucky hit in.  It happens.  I recovered and I had teammates there to help.  Thank you.”  Her eyes were shining with gratitude and softness.  Superboy’s eyes softened too and nodded at her.  

She could see he was still tense.  Watching a teammate get hurt had that effect on people.  She certainly had that reaction when Adrien or Alya or Nino or any of her old team took a hard hit.  “Can I give you a hug?” She asked tentatively.  Hugging her friends after the fight had always calmed her down. She hoped it did the same for him.

He stared at her uncertain how to respond for a few seconds but finally nodded again and opened his arms to her.  She smiled at him and walked into his embrace, holding him tightly.  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her firmly to his chest.  He rested his head on hers, holding her close for a few minutes, slowly relaxing in the knowledge she was safe and close.  

<><><><><> 

Superboy watched Chimera as she sketched in the common room.  She sat with her back against the armrest of the couch, her legs stretched out across the couch.  Luckily, she was short enough that it still left room for Superboy. She had turned on some old looking movie she was barely paying attention to.

He walked in, sat on the free cushion, and watched the movie for a few moments.  “What even is this?  This is terrible.”

She looked up startled like she hadn’t noticed him sit down.  “Hey.  This is Highlander.”  He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.  She gave him a sheepish grin.  “One of my friends is a movie guy.  He thought I might like it.  Good period costumes, he said.  Fun sword play and light shows.”

He nodded and looked back to the movie.  After a few minutes of glancing at Chimera from the corner of his eye he finally asked the thought that had been on his mind since their mission.  "So… who's Felix?"  He didn’t look away from the movie when he asked.

Chimera glared at him.  "I thought we agreed we forget any personal information we find out during a mission."

He finally looked over at her with a dubious look.  "No, you suggested that. None of us agreed to it."  He leaned back and rested his elbow on the back of the couch.  "So, tell me about Felix and how do I find him? I just want to talk to him."

She snorted.  “You’d be the first.  Most want to punch him in the face.  Which is exactly what I did and I can assure you it is in fact as gratifying as you hope it would be.”  She gave him a grin.  He huffed out a laugh before turning his attention to the movie.

After a few more moments, she looked back up at him.  “So… are you excited for school?”  

He groaned.  “No.”

She furrowed her brow.  She really wished she could go with him to help him at school.  She was nervous about making friends in her new school too, but at least she was used to school.  This was going to be Superboy’s first time going to school at all.  She really wanted to forget about the whole identity issue and go with him, or get them to send him to her school so she could keep a covert eye on him, but they wanted to keep him close.  “Sorry,” she mumbled instead.  “Do you know what you’re going to wear?”  

He looked at her for a second or two as he thought about it.  He motioned to his shirt and gave her a confused look.  She looked back at him in horror.  “You can’t wear that!  Secret identity.  You have to wear something different.”

He groaned and huffed at her.  He thought for a second then took off his shirt, turned it inside out, and put it back on that way.  Her eyes opened wide in surprise and she blushed heavily before turning back down to her sketchbook.  “Yeah, um… No.”  She stammered out, focusing solely on the blank page in front of her and willing her blush to go away.  This is not how teammates react to other teammates.  “I’ll come up with something else for you.  What colors do you like? “

He furrowed his brow and looked down at his shirt.  “Black… red…dark.”

She nodded, “Broody colors.  Got it.”  He scowled at her.  She gave him a cheeky grin.  “I’ll have something for you tomorrow.  We’ll work on what your style is as you decide what you like.  I should get your measurements though.”  She looked down at her notebook and started sketching again. After a few moments of sketching, she looked over shyly.  “But, so you know, maybe don’t do that at school.”  She said motioning toward his shirt.

He frowned at her, “Why?”

She stared at him incredulously for a few moments, trying to decide if he was serious or not.  She finally realized he was when he continued to frown at her, confused about her concern.  She wasn’t sure whether his innocence was incredibly sweet or concerning.  “Oh, my sweet summer child, I really wish I could be there to protect you tomorrow, but… identity, you know?  So I’m going to need you to protect yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, turning to the movie.

She continued to stare at him a bit longer before speaking up again. “You know you’re handsome, right?”

His head whipped toward her, his eyes wide.  “You think so?”

She let out a disbelieving laugh and smiled at him.  “I know so.  Extremely handsome and broody.  A bad boy with a good heart.” His cheeks started turning pink as she spoke. Every word turned them darker.  “People are going to be falling all over themselves to get close to you.  Boys, girls, thems.  You’re going to get all of their attention.  Some will show it like Artemis, some more subtle, some less subtle. You’re going to get a lot of attention at school, people wanting to get close to you because you’re handsome, not everyone, but some.”  She paused to look at him earnestly.  “Just be careful.  Make friends with people who make you feel better, happier, lighter.  You don’t have to make friends with anyone, but if you meet someone you like, you should.  Although if it seems like something someone says is too good to be true, it probably isn’t.”  She warned him with a dark look crossing her eyes quickly.

“I don’t need more friends.  I have enough friends. Friends who think I’m extremely handsome.”  He grinned at her.

She burst out laughing not expecting him to be that bold.  She rolled her eyes.  “You don’t need more friends, but more friends can make life better sometimes.  If it’s the right people.”  He grunted and turned back to the movie.  

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Chimera sketching different outfits for Superboy, Superboy watching the movie and frowning occasionally.  The silence was broken occasionally with Chimera asking him if he liked some element of a character’s costume or not.  About half an hour into the movie Superboy grumbled, “This movie is depressing.”

Chimera looked up from her third sketch and took notice of the movie again.  “What makes you say that?  The effects aren’t that bad, not for that time anyway. I mean the sword fighting could use some work and the accents are terrible, but… I think it’s fun.”

Superboy continued to watch the movie for a while longer.  “I don’t age either.”  He said quietly.  Chimera looked at him questioningly.  He sighed and looked down.  “I’ll be this age, physically at least, for the rest of my life.  Part of the cloning process.”

Chimera gave him a sad look and reached out her foot, the only part of her body that was close enough to touch him, to pat his leg.  “At least you’ll be hot.”  She offered with a sympathetic smile.  He huffed at her and returned to watching the movie, but he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips.

She watched the movie with him for a while longer watching as the main character’s wife died of old age in his arms while he was still the same age as when they met.  She frowned at the screen and said quietly, “I’ll age, but much, much slower than everyone else.”  Superboy looked over at her in surprise.  She offered him a mirthless smile.  “It’s part of the powers I have now.  I’ll live for centuries if I want to.”  She looked back to the movie and frowned as the main character buried his wife.  “I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.”

Superboy nodded at her.  “At least you’ll be hot.” He offered with a smile.

She laughed out loud at him.  Once she settled down she gave him a crooked smile.  “I’d take that more to heart if you had any idea what I look like.”

He gave her a small smile and watched the rest of the movie in silence.  When it was over, he looked over at Chimera to find her examining him with her eyes narrowed as though sizing him up.  “What?” he demanded.

“You should use the name Conner for school.”

“Like the guy in the movie?”

“Yeah.  You need a name.  Conner’s a good name.  I think it suits you.”  She nodded as she said it, like it was decided.

He fought the blush that wanted to appear again.  If she liked the name, that’s what it would be.  “I can live with Conner.” He nodded nonchalantly, trying not to give away how significant he thought it was.

“No, I live with Conner.”  She gave him a cheeky grin and started laughing at her own bad joke.  He groaned and threw a pillow at her.  Thankfully, she was in her suit because he threw it with enough force to burst the pillow open when it hit her.  She laughed harder as the fluff rained down on them.

“But, so you know, maybe don’t tell jokes like that at school.” He said in mock distain.

She smiled wistfully at her sketchbook.  “Yeah, I think my old partner rubbed off on me.  He would have loved that joke.”

“Old partner?”

“Yeah… um… I don’t think… identity secrets, you know?”

“Okay.  Can you say, is he still alive?”

“Yes, he is.”

“What happened?  Why isn’t he your partner anymore?”  He paused for a few seconds to gauge her reaction.  “If you can say.” He added quickly.

“I can’t…identity.”  She gave him an apologetic look.  They sat without looking at each other for a while.  “He’s not a hero anymore.” She whispered after a few minutes.  He looked up at her with wide eyes.  “Oh, no.  He didn’t become a villain.” She rushed to reassure him.  “He just… he went through a lot and decided to walk away.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Um…I miss…” She thought how to word her response.  She wanted to answer him honestly, but it wasn’t safe for anyone to know they were still close.  “Yes.”  She answered instead.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  He was my teammate, my best friend.  I’m happy he did what he had to do to take care of himself.  He’s happier now, or he will be eventually.  And now I have a new team and more friends.  We both did what we had to do.”

Conner nodded and looked around the room trying to figure out how to make the air feel less awkward.  His eyes landed on the end of the credits.  “He’s not the guy that recommended this movie is he?  Because that is not a good friend.”

She barked out a laugh.  “He’s not.  But the one that recommended it is like a brother, so watch it.” She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed her pencil at him in mock threat.

“Maybe I’ll get to meet him someday then.” He kept his voice light but gave her an uncertain look.

She gave him a brilliant smile and nodded.  “I hope so.”  He smiled back at her and helped pick up the pillow fluff that surrounded them.

 Tags:

@mickylikesstuff @mystery-5-5 @roguishredaxion

[sodone-withlife]

icarus fell, and blood stained the ground

i'm back!! (but not really—the new school year literally starts in an hour and it will be back to my pathological dependence on academic validation. at least i can say i've technically published another fic before summer break ends)

anyway, here's the fic in response to part 1 of sumayyah's post. i published a companion poem for this some time ago. as per usual, i gave up on proofreading so hopefully any mistakes don't detract from the story. also, i hope the formatting and jumping back and forth between italics makes sense—let me know if it doesn't, though it might be easier to read on ao3 (it should go up on there by 4pm PST because school)

warnings: murder, major character death (may potentially be classified as suicide-by-proxy, depending on your interpretation), guns, canon typical violence, slight gore at the end, mentioned substances

word count: 1.9k words

The damned man thought of everything, Jessica thought as she scowled at the damned folder that sat innocuously on the large mahogany desk.

The desk that would soon be cleared, all traces of the previous owner gone.

She lifted a shaky hand and brushed it through her hair, shuddering at its greasy and unkempt state that hinted at the state she had been in recently. Weary to the bone, she forced herself to sit back up and grab her phone, dialing the number that was written on the sticky note placed on the inside cover of the folder. It didn’t surprise her to hear an unfamiliar female voice answer the phone with a “Ms. Brooks?”

He had thought of everything, after all.

Really, the only thing she was surprised at was the sheer extent of his connections—but thinking back to her phone calls with Haley back when he was still practicing law, the talks about extravagant offers from top corporations and firms, she really wasn’t surprised. Thus, it made sense that her call to the top law firm in the state would be answered within two dial tones and by someone who already knew who she was.

And within minutes of talking with the woman who introduced herself as Ms. Stevens, Jessica became even more aware of just how prepared her brother-in-law had been before he walked to his dea—

Not an in-law anymore—her brother. He had long since earned that designation, that spot in her broken family, no matter how much self-flagellation he put himself through in regards to her sister’s murder and no matter how much abuse her father hurled at him in the years before the man who once viewed him as a son succumbed to dementia.

Hours later, despite having already reached her limit twenty minutes into the call, she finally hung up the phone with only funeral arrangements as an immediate concern. Slowly, she stood up from the chair and mechanically made her way into the tiny bathroom that had once been a familiar sight, when her nephew was still a child—

She forced her mind away from that minefield; she wasn’t willing to spend another sleepless night thinking about what had gone down in the past month, what had happened a week ago in that apartment, what her nephew was doing and thinking in the cell that only seemed to become colder and crueler the more she thought about it.

How many prisons had he visited? How many interrogation rooms, holding cells, general population cells, max security cells, death row cells? Did he ever get used to it? Could he allow himself to get used to it, to forget that these people are also human no matter the crimes they’ve committed?

A careful hand fell onto Jessica’s shoulder, and she shuddered under the warmth that seeped into her body, a warmth that had been lacking from her life for a long time now. She turned to see Morgan staring back at her, concerned.

“You didn’t pick up your phone,” he explained neutrally, flicking his eyes towards her phone—and sure enough, there were ten missed calls, each from a member of the team. She looked back up but avoided his concerned gaze only to latch onto her reflection in the mirror and internally winced at her haggard appearance.

“Did you—“ she coughed, clearing her throat, “have you figured out what happened?” Morgan’s unspoken question about her well-being went unanswered, and she continued to avoid looking at him.

She watched the man shake his head through the mirror, unsurprised and once again cursing her brother for his incessant habit of playing his cards close to his chest, especially when it came to personal issues.

How else is—was—he one of the best at poker in the bureau, often even beating Reid?

“He hasn’t talked, either,” Morgan informed her quietly, saving her the pain of asking the question herself. “Forensics is still struggling to put together a cohesive picture. To be honest, I doubt we’ll ever find out what actually happened in that apartment.” He shook his head, frustrated at the man he considered his brother.

If either of them bothered to ask, they would have found that both were truthfully unsurprised at this outcome, given what they only recently learned about the factors and circumstances that led to it. The few established facts about this case in addition to speculation based on systematically organized notes left in an even more meticulously organized folder painted a clear enough picture of the events preceding the fall.

But it wasn’t really an accidental, flailing fall.

In all truthfulness, he didn’t fight it.

Icarus let himself fall to his death in an attempt to compensate for his hubris, to suffer the consequences of his mistakes, and it was both a cowardly attempt to escape the hellish burns caused by the boiling, melting wax and a selfless attempt to teach posterity to avoid ending up like him.

Jessica remembered the warmth of Morgan’s embrace when he ignored all protocol and took it upon himself to inform her of what had transpired in the past two months, regardless of the still-ongoing investigation. It didn’t do much to soothe the cold that had threatened to swallow her whole as she listened to the details in silent horror.

He had sat her down in her apartment, the one she had taken care of her ailing father in before he finally died and the one she couldn’t bear to move out of for all of the memories that had been formed inside—with her father on his good days, with her brother, with her nephew

“A week ago, we were invited by MPD to consult on a series of killings that happened over the course of a month. We had an eye on the situation since the second murder, and there were two more victims in the span of a week before we were finally called in,” he began quietly.

He had suspicions as to what was happening by the time the team was invited in on the case at the personal request of the MPD chief. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had come across this profile before, but there were simply too many puzzle pieces with matching edges for the connections to be brushed off as a coincidence.

“Based on the rate at which bodies were popping up, we anticipated another one within two days of us being called in, but the killer had gone suspiciously silent. We went through crime scenes, forensic reports, and things weren’t adding up.”

"It’s a local case and we’ve coordinated with MPD multiple times, they know the drill. I’d like to take a personal look as well, the brass has been all up in my business about this case given its proximity to the Hill."

That’s what he said to the team regarding him suddenly taking the initiative to go to the crime scenes despite his responsibilities—it had been a while since he last went out to crime scenes, often taking care of the office politics and coordinating the investigation back at whatever precinct or office the team had taken over.

“There were odd inconsistencies, missing pieces of evidence… There was evidence to show that the killer was an amateur, but ultimately the profile we ended up building was nowhere near as detailed as we hoped it could be—but it ultimately went a long way in helping us figure out what was really happening.”

Old case files going missing from his home office, growing interest in his job, sudden mood swings happening long after the worst of puberty, increased isolation, dropping grades…

Absentee fathers of Georgetown students being stabbed and shot to death as if the killer was unsure about what to do, an innocuous Jack-in-the-Box takeout bag sitting near the last three bodies…

Numerous signs, and yet it was the outwardly irrelevant piece of trash, perhaps a sign of the killer’s gluttony—a sick joke that only he could have recognized—that led him to put all of the horrifying pieces together. It’s been over a decade, and yet the memories of that damned day remained as clear as ever, dogging his every footstep. Nightmares in which the worst happens still often visit him in his sleep, sometimes even combined with the effects of Peter Lewis’s drug concoction, effects lingering even after all these years.

“Somehow, we completely missed the fact that he fit the victimology. Maybe it was because of his efforts to distract us… If we had put it together earlier we might have been able to figure it out much earlier, and maybe everything could have turned out differently.”

Only after intensive counseling and careful editing of his case reports was he allowed to continue in the bureau after Lewis and his targeted attacks, and yet he knew he was still being watched. It was with that thought in mind that he made a decision on how to handle the situation. Either way, his life would be irrevocably changed, and there would be casualties alongside him.

All he had to do was figure out how to minimize them.

“He never came in that morning; Reid was the first to notice the lights off in the office. We were headed towards his apartment complex as soon as we saw a cleared-out office with a retirement letter being the only thing left on the desk. All of the pictures, trinkets, law books, messy stacks of paperwork—gone.”

A retirement letter for formality's sake, one copy emailed directly to the director and one printed on his desk, to simplify some things for the bureau and to ensure that Jessica and his son get his pension should the worst happen. All of his decisions, meticulously recorded and justified, except for this last one to protect the team from the consequences of his choice. All of his notes, all of the claimed evidence, carefully stored in the file box he left next to the retirement letter back in the office. Favors accumulated since law school called in, contacts throughout the local justice system ready to step in and deal with the fallout.

All of this, an attempt to compensate for the mistakes he’s made over the years and his hubris, to protect the remnants of his family and the team.

Morgan couldn’t finish telling Jessica what had happened, voice somehow caught in his throat and refusing to cooperate. He simply shook his head, and she folded in on herself, the weight of the last week too much for her to hold up. Slowly, he pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back but not doing much more to soothe her.

This is a wound that wouldn’t ever heal.

The story ends like this:

Icarus burned, and Aaron Hotchner said nothing as the hand that held the gun against his temple shook with uncertainty. Everything he wanted to say was written—one might call him a coward, but writing had always been so much easier for him—and he knew that he would be the final casualty, that the killings would stop after tonight.

Icarus fell, and Aaron Hotchner was flung sideways, the unyielding bullet from his gun fired by his own son shredding the brain that thought had of everything but the emotional and psychological effects his final decision would have on his family and friends.

Daedalus grieved over his son’s crumpled form, and Jack Hotchner would be found with his father’s dead body in his shaking arms as he stared blankly at sights unseen to the team, who had come hours too late.

Blood stained the ground, seeping into the cracks and crevices of grasping fingers, and nothing would ever be the same.

[yoontopia]

𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: detective au; fluff, a smidgen of angst, childhood friends to lovers

rating: 18+ (mentions of assault, domestic abuse and suicide; minor character death, serial killers are mentioned, minor mention of alcohol and weapons, most likely an inaccurate portrayal of policework)

word count: 7.7k

summary: when a case forces you to re-visit your hometown, you’re also forced to re-visit your past and one particular jeon jungkook, your childhood friend, and the man you’d fallen in love with -- while he’d been been engaged to someone else.

author’s note: whew this is me coming back to writing for the first time in a WHILE.  happy (belated) birthday jungkook! I’m sorry for being 8 days late T_T

The first thing you do when you get into work is make coffee. The lieutenant has recently invested in a rather pricey looking coffee machine after giving the entire team a loud and exasperated lecture about “leaving the precinct to take too many coffee breaks”. You can’t say that you complain about this new arrangement.

The second thing you do when you get into work is check the files on your desk. It is when you’re rifling through these, a mug of steaming black liquid next to you, that your partner slaps another folder on your desk.

“What is this?” you ask, looking up at his tired demeanour. Min Yoongi is an excellent detective, but talent and success come at a price. You don’t think the man has ever gotten a good night’s rest.

“A 16-year old girl found murdered by the piers in Busan,” Yoongi says, pulling the chair from the empty desk next to you and subsequently collapsing in it. “The fishermen found her early this morning.”

“Busan?” you ask, the name of your hometown heavy on your tongue. “What business does that have with the Seoul Major Crimes Unit?”

“It becomes our business when you see how she was killed.” Yoongi states, leaning forward and flipping open the file for you. You look down at the medical examiner’s report, light finally shedding on your situation.

“Legs and hands tied with plastic cable ties, throat slashed, face carved into a permanent mangled grin – its Him. The age and description of the girl match with his previous victims and Busan PD asked us to come down since we’re handling The Joker’s case.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “What did I tell you about enabling him?” Yoongi shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

You stare back down at the photos of the crime scene, your brain trying to piece together the information. This particular serial killer – nicknamed The Joker by the general public for the way he dismembered his victims’ faces – had been at large for a couple years now and had murdered five young girls. Well, you muse, the count is up to six now.

“He’s never struck outside Seoul before,” you murmur. In your periphery, Yoongi nods, taking a sip out of his own coffee. “This is so out of his way. Are we sure its not a copycat?”

“I considered that,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “The lead detectives in charge of this case want us to check it out and see if we can figure out of it’s the real deal. If it is The Joker, the case is ours anyway.”

“I know some cops in Busan,” you say, closing the file. You had grown up there and worked there before transferring. “Who’s in charge?” Yoongi stares at you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper with names scribbled on it.

“Let’s see—the man who called this morning – a Kim Taehyung – do you know him?” You blink.

“Yeah, we-we went to college together,” you say, your voice suddenly hushed.

“Aw that’s cute, a little reunion,” Yoongi grins but then studies your expression. “Is it not a happy occasion?”

“No no,” you laugh weakly. “Taehyung is fine – great actually! He’s good at what he does too. I’m grateful he’s in charge of this one.”

“Great, we leave tomorrow first thing,” Yoongi says, electing to ignore your high voice and nervousness. “I got us KTX tickets for the first train out.”

You nod, swallowing. Kim Taehyung isn’t the problem, it’s who he’s partners with that has your stomach in knots.

Your train pulls into Busan at a very early hour that even coffee can’t fix. You heave your duffel bag over your shoulder and wait for Yoongi to grab his before stepping off onto the platform. Yawning, you look around.

The dawn has left behind a slight fog around the city and the morning October air has a slight chill in it. You haven’t been back in Busan since the day you left, some two years ago. Your parents had moved to Seoul recently, taking with them the only reason you’d ever have to visit this seaside city.

Yoongi hops off the train next to you and looks around. He’s a Daegu native, but knows this city like the back of his hand.

“I booked us a hotel near the crime scene,” is the first thing he says.

“That’s not morbid at all,” you chuckle, and he rolls his eyes. “But first I’m guessing we head straight to the precinct?” Yoongi nods and the two of you opt to share a cab instead of taking the public transport.

Before you know it, you’re getting off at the police department. Two officers at the entrance have been alerted of your arrival and show you the way. Yoongi shoots you a surprised look, but you grin back. Busan has always been known for its friendly and amicable citizens.

When you enter what is obviously the homicide department, Taehyung is the first person you see. He shouts your name from across the room, turning several heads, and bounces towards you like a golden retriever reunited with its long-lost owner.

“That is Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks and you’re not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed.

“Its so good to see you!” he says, a boxy grin painting his face. You take him in. Taehyung hasn’t changed much since college, but the dyed blonde hair he used to sport when he was younger has now been swapped for his natural black curls, which bounce every time he walks. “And you must be Detective Min, we spoke on the phone”

“Ah—yes,” Yoongi utters, thoroughly thrown off. You hide a smile.

“Come in, come in! Ah you can leave your bags by my desk for now.” The two of you do as you’re told, and Taehyung then leads you to a small conference room which holds a projector screen, a small round table, and a few chairs.

“I assume you’ve read the case file?” he asks and when you nod, he continues. “We haven’t had anything quite like this before – at least not during my career. I realize the two of you are the leads on The Joker right now, so any help you’re willing to provide is appreciated really.”

“Any new developments?” you ask, pulling out the file from your backpack. Taehyung hums before sitting down across from you.

“The toxicology report came back right as you arrived, I got a text from my partner,” Taehyung says, and you try to keep a straight face. “He’s over there right now he should be here soon, by the way,” You’re thankful that he doesn’t dwell on the topic for too long, most likely out of respect for you. “They found morphine in her system, so we’re inclined to believe that she was drugged before being tied up and killed. Your raise your eyebrows at this piece of information.

“The Joker doesn’t drug his victims.” You state. “They’re all very much awake when he ties them up and slashes their throats. The carved smile is always scratched in post-mortem.”

“Well there are inconsistencies then,” Taehyung says, running a hand through his hair. “All the wounds here were caused after he actually killed her – and that includes… whatever he did to her face.”

“So, we’re looking at a copycat.” You state.

“Or he’s changed his MO.” Yoongi adds.

“He hasn’t changed it for his first five victims what was special about this one that he had to drug her to knock her out first? No, this sounds like someone plotting murder and covering it up. Either way let’s explore all avenues.” You say.

“I agree,” comes a voice from behind you and you almost jump out of your seat. You turn to see the very person you’d been dreading running into since stepping foot on the platform this morning. Jeon Jungkook walks in, two cups in his hands, setting one down in front of Taehyung. He leans over to shake hands with Yoongi, giving you a mere side-glance. He sits down across from the two of you and takes a sip of his drink. Distractedly, you wonder if its coffee – as far as you know he was never a big fan.

The again, you muse, you’re not sure you really know him anymore.

There’s an awkward sort of silence and Yoongi’s body language tells you he’s noticed something’s off. Taehyung clears his throat.

“I’m assuming the two of you will want to check the crime scene out?”

“And the body.” You add. Taehyung nods and stands up.

“Do you want to split up or do both together?” You look at Yoongi.

“Together,” the two of you say at the same time. Yoongi’s smiling. You smile back.

Getting into the back of Taehyung’s sleek black SUV, you watch Yoongi jump in from the other side, dark hair slightly tousled from trying to get some sleep on the train. He’d been your partner for the entirety of your career with the Seoul PD. The two of you had started as rookie cops and had spent the first few months catching small-time criminals. Yoongi was easy to work with, and you’d found a fast friend in him, being alone in a big, unfamiliar city. You closed cases like no one else and before you knew it, the two of you were promoted to Major Crimes as detectives. The Joker was one of your first cases and it was a real thorn in your side that you hadn’t managed to catch the bastard yet.

Jungkook gets in the passenger seat next to Taehyung. He hasn’t so much as addressed you yet, except for agreeing with your previous statement. You had expected as much. He’s still sipping on his drink. Taehyung is talking to one of the officers by the main gate and you take this time to really take in Jungkook’s appearance.

He hasn’t changed – gotten broader maybe. His hair is slightly longer, falling into his eyes. His ears are still pierced in multiple places, although right now he’s only wearing simple rings in both ears. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt, which you recognize is from the Busan Police Academy as you own the same one. His right hand is littered with tattoos you can’t make out, and they disappear into his arm. That is new and you wonder when he got them done. Unable to help yourself, your eyes travel to his left hand, his ring finger. You’re surprised to find it empty. The last time you saw him, there was definitely a ring there. It was the last time you were in Busan. You haven’t returned since.

“Did Namjoon text you?” Yoongi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. You look at your partner distractedly. “He said he was going to.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked.” You mutter, before pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. There is an unread message, surely enough from your co-worker.

“Yeah he says Holly’s fine,” You tell Yoongi, scrolling through the message. “He was a little shy last night but seems to have taken a liking to Joon.” Yoongi heaves a sigh of relief. Yoongi was also your roommate back home, and his dog meant more to him more than anything else. You secretly were also extremely fond of the little brown poodle. “He says he’ll send pictures later.” Yoongi scoffs at that.

“He better, I do not trust that man with our dog.” Yoongi says and you smile at his wording. Holly was definitely Yoongi’s dog, you had just moved into his apartment when he was in need of a roommate to help cover the rent. It was so easy to be platonically domestic with Min Yoongi.

“Why didn’t you just leave him with your brother?” you ask, putting your phone away, looking out through the window to see if Taehyung is done.

“Geumjae’s in Daegu for my Mom’s birthday.” you turn to Yoongi in surprise.

“It’s your Mom’s birthday and you’re here?” you ask in surprise. Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe we should stop in Daegu on the way back.”

“I considered it,” he says. “If we have time.”

“I’d like to meet her.” You say warmly.

Jungkook clears his throat and you look at him, having forgotten he’s in the car too. He’s about to say something when Taehyung opens the door and gets in on the driver’s side.

“Sorry,” he says. “We have another ongoing case.”

“It’s not a problem,” Yoongi says. “You could’ve just left us to go do all this by ourselves.”

“No this case takes precedent for us too,” Taehyung says, starting up the car. “Plus, we’re here to help you if you ever need anything.”

The rest of the drive is silent, but its an almost-comfortable type of silence. You look out the window, taking in the familiar streets from your younger years. Nothing really has changed but then again, two years isn’t a long time at all. Or maybe it is. You’re not sure anymore.

“You say she was found near Haeundae?”

“Near the Haeundae market, yes.” Jungkook answers, surprising you. “She hadn’t been in the water and no water was found in her lungs, so she wasn’t drowned. No blood or signs of struggle in the surrounding area meaning she was killed elsewhere and brought to the market. We aren’t sure why this particular location was chosen--”

“The killer wanted her to be found,” you say, your voice soft, cutting him off. “The markets open before anything else. Everyone who lives here knows that.” Jungkook turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he’d walked into the conference room.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think so too.”

“ID?” Yoongi asks, and either he’s pretending not to feel the tension in the car, or he doesn’t notice it. Knowing Yoongi, it’s probably the former.

“16-year-old Park Sohee,” Jungkook says, turning back to look at the little black notebook he has open. “Attended high school in Haeundae, grew up in the area too.”

“Have you spoken to the parents?” You ask.

“Yesterday,” he replies. “She was on the swim and dive team at school. Had excellent grades and many friends. A popular kid. Parents say she had no enemies, and no boyfriend, and wasn’t involved in anything ‘bad’.”

“Yeah well a parent is always going to say that,” you muse. “Have you spoken with her school? Friends? Swim coach?”

“Not yet. We waited for you.” You nod at that.

“I’d like to see the body after this if that’s okay. Yoongi can go talk to the school.” Yoongi nods beside you.

“Sure, one of us can go with you and the other can go with Detective Min.” Taehyung says, pulling up near the fish markets. You step out of the car, the smell of fish immediately overpowering you. You wrinkle your nose and look around. The market is exactly the same as you remember it. The familiar stalls selling everything from fresh produce to seafood to small trinkets and jewelry. It isn’t too busy right now considering it’s a weekday, which means you can look around easily.

“Nostalgic?” Jungkook asks stepping in beside you. You smile slightly.

“Only a little,” you answer him. “We used to come here a lot.”

“I still do to be honest,” he jokes. “The naengmyeon here is unrivalled.”

“Still?” you ask surprised, and he nods.

“Have some while you’re here,” he says, tossing his now empty cup in the nearby trashcan. “I know you like it.” He’s looking at you once again looking like he wants to say something. You understand, there are so many words left unsaid between you after all. You’re not sure you want to open that door though. Jungkook has always worn his heart on his sleeve.

“Over here,” Taehyung motions from some distance away and the two of you make your way to him. Yoongi is already standing there and he hands you a pair of gloves. Pulling them on, you lift the yellow police tape to make your way to the scene.

“They found her in front of this stall, on her back.”

“On display,” you say, kneeling near the chalk outline of the body. “Killer wanted us to see her face and neck.” You looked up at Jungkook and Taehyung, who were looking at you in confusion.

“It’s another inconsistency,” you say, standing up. “The Joker’s victims are all found face down. This guy totally didn’t do his research considering he was trying to be a copycat.”

“He wanted us to see the slashed throat,” Yoongi says. “He’s an amateur at this.” You nod.

“The cause of death was the morphine, I’m guessing. The wounds were all inflicted post-mortem”

“She had no other inflictions,” Jungkook says. “You can look at the tox screen when we go see the body and talk to the M.E. too.”

“Who found her?”

“A couple fishermen,” Taehyung reads off his notes. “Time of death is approximately 3-4 AM and both their alibis check out, they were out on the docks ready to head out.”

“I say we tell the press we’re convinced it’s the Joker,” you say, taking off your gloves and pocketing them.

“I agree,” pipes up Jungkook.

“Detective Min, if you can come with me to go talk to the family,” Taehyung says to Yoongi and then turns to you. “Go with Jungkook to see the body,” he says. You nod hesitantly, half-hoping it would’ve been the other way around. “We’ll drop you off on our way.”

Before you know it, you’re standing next to Jungkook outside the medical examiner’s office. Jungkook pushes the door open, letting you go through first.

“Hey Jin, I’m back,” he says and you hear a crash and a man appears from behind some shelves. He’s wearing a lab coat, dark hair disheveled. He looks at you.

“Oh, the detective from Seoul I’m guessing!” he says, his voice oddly melodious. “Kim Seokjin, MD.” You shake his hand, grinning and introducing yourself. You already like him.

“She wants to take a look at the body.”

“Of course, of course,” Seokjin says rushing around to the many shelves in the wall, popping one open and pulling out the body of Park Sohee.

You and Jungkook make your way towards it. You peer down at the young girl.

“The morphine is likely what killed her,” Seokjin says, watching you.

“She has bruises,” you say softly, staring at her abdomen. “Post-mortem?”

“No.” Seokjin replies. “She got those when she was alive. The coloring indicates they’re old.”

“Swimming and diving aren’t high contact sports,” you say. “Where did she get these bruises on her arms and chest?”

“You thinking domestic abuse?” Jungkook asks from behind you

“The parents said she didn’t have a partner. How did the parents seem?”

“Upset,” Jungkook starts, then stops. “You think the parents did this?”

“Just considering all options. Her team coach is also a possibility. I won’t know until we’ve checked all of them.” You look down at her again. “A pretty girl.” You say. “Can I have copies of the tox screen?”

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, walking over to his desk to print out a copy. “There isn’t much other than the morphine. An overwhelming amount.”

“Where would they get access to so much morphine?”

“No idea,” he says walking over and handing you the toxicology report, which you subsequently put in your bag. “But it was way over the lethal amount. The killer isn’t an expert on dosage. My guess? Someone who has no idea how killing works.”

You and Jungkook walk out of the building. The afternoon sun is peaking out, making you shed your jacket.

“You hungry?” he asks, and you realize you are. All you’ve had since arriving in Busan is coffee. “There’s a galbi place around here.”

He leads you around the corner into a small restaurant and you enter behind him.

“Jungkookie!” comes an excited voice and you see an elderly woman wearing a flowery apron making her way towards you. “It’s been a while!”

Jungkook grins at the woman and greets her politely and she ushers you over to a small table by the window facing the busy street. Handing you a menu, she smiles kindly at you.

“You’re a regular?” you ask.

“I used to be. It’s been a while honestly.”

You scan the menu, your mouth immediately watering.

“The dak-galbi here is unreal,” he tells you and you pretend to throw the menu away.

“Well how dare I eat anything else then!” Jungkook laughs, high and melodic. Its been a while since you’ve heard that laugh. “Let us split the dak-galbi. I also want rice.”

Jungkook gets up and walks over to the counter himself to give your order. You watch him, a small smile on your face. He collapses back in his seat, bringing over two glasses of water.

“So,” he says.

“What’s with the tattoos.” You blurt out, eyeing his hand. He stares down at it too.

“Wanted a change, I guess,” he says slowly. “Life was getting pretty dull around here.”

“So, you got inked,” you say grinning. He grins back.

“I’m happy this isn’t awkward,” he says after a while and you freeze. “I’m glad we can sit and talk like this still.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

“About back then—” he starts, and you sigh. You want desperately to avoid this conversation but Jungkook, ever the straight arrow, has never liked underlying tension, and prefers everything laid out on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” you tell him, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“No, I am sorry,” his tone is firm. “I ruined our friendship, made everything weird and drove you away. I know I’m the reason you’ve avoided this place until now and even now you’re only here because you have to be—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt gently, and he halts mid-rant, his doe-like eyes wide. “Stop talking. I’m the one who’s sorry. I acted immature and it was me who ruined everything, not you. I didn’t come back because-because it hurt at first and then I didn’t come back because I thought you’d be happier without having to deal with me.”

“How could you think that?” He’s gripping the table, knuckles white. It makes the ink on his hand stand out even more. You see a sketch of a small rose, about an inch tall, right below his index finger, and bite your lip. “You were my best friend.”

“It’s different now,” you assure him, still staring at the rose. It’s staring back at you, a silent taunt. It brings up repressed memories you rather not face. “Things are different. I’m happy—in Seoul. Please don’t blame yourself for everything that happened. I wasn’t angry to see you, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to see me. I’m happy now and I’ve moved on from all that.”

“With Yoongi.” Jungkook says, and you’re not sure why he sounds so bitter.

“With Yoongi, yes,” you say. Yoongi’s your work partner and a steady shoulder when you need one. He’s your roommate and best friend. Seoul is lonely and even after two years of living there, he’s one of your only friends. But as soon as you say it, something in Jungkook’s expression shifts, like a door slamming shut. He sits back. “He’s the best partner anyone can ask for, and a damn good detective.”

Jungkook nods once, jaw clenched. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, your food arrives and you’re too hungry to think of much else.

After that, the two of you only make polite small talk. There’s no tension but you can’t help but feel like the wall that was crumbling has somehow repaired itself. Jungkook’s phone rings as he’s finishing his rice.

“Tae, hey,” he says, phone in his left hand as he eats with his right. You distractedly wonder why he doesn’t wear his ring anymore. “Okay sounds good. No, we can just walk to the station its only a couple blocks. Yeah man see you there.”

“They done talking to the school?”

“Yeah they’ll fill us in when we get there.”

“So, what’s the deal?” Yoongi asks, his lithe body curled up on the hotel armchair in your room. His room is next door, but the two of you had ordered room service for dinner. Empty bowls of jajangmyeon lie littered on the small side table next to him.

“The deal with what?”

“Detective Jeon,” You turn to Yoongi and fix him with a stare. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Nonsense,” you reply.

“You two have a history? It got seriously weird at times today.”

“No history—it’s the same as Taehyung, we attended the police academy together. Taehyung was a couple years ahead of us though.”

“And?”

“And I’ve also attended middle school and high school with Jungkook. He was my neighbour growing up.”

“Ah childhood friends,” Yoongi hums. “But what went wrong?”

“What makes you think something went wrong?”

“Because you left behind a perfectly good life here when you moved to Seoul? Because you never talk about these people? Before today I didn’t even know of them. And also, because you were absolutely dreading coming here.” You sigh, hating Yoongi’s astute personality.

“Jungkook found out how I felt,” You say quietly. “About him.”

“Oh.”

“While he had a girlfriend.”

“…Oh.”

“Who he was engaged to.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi’s tone makes you giggle, relieving the pain a little.

“Obviously, he never felt the same way, but then things got so weird. It was like we could never go back to what was. Jungkook skirted around me, his girlfriend hated my guts, I had to avoid our whole friend-group because all of his friends were my friends. It felt claustrophobic.”

“So, you left.”

“Not exactly,” you say. “I wasn’t actively looking to run away, but when the option to move was presented to me, I hesitated way less than I originally would have.”

“And are you still in love with him?” Yoongi asks, voice casual.

“I don’t know,” you reply, thinking of the small rose tattooed on Jungkook’s hand. It’s easier to deny. “It’s been two years and as far as I know he could be married by now.”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Yoongi answers, like the detective he is. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He was head over heels for Jangmi.”

“What a delicate name,” Yoongi muses.

“She was the delicate kind,” you agree. “Kind, pretty, gentle – just like her name—like a rose.”

“Every rose has its thorns though,” Yoongi says wisely. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Who?”

“Detective Jeon. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You’re such a romantic at heart Min,” You tease. Yoongi only smiles softly in return. “It doesn’t matter. Jungkook’s life is here and mine is in Seoul. After we wrap this case up, I probably won’t see him again. I’m happy with my life right now.”

“Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times, it’ll one day become the truth.”

“Anyway, go over what you saw with the victim’s school again.” You sit on your bed cross-legged, your go-to posture when you’re trying to focus.

“Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. Her swim coach is a well-respected man. Usually men in power take advantage of multiple people under them but none of the other girls in the team seemed out of sorts to me. Her teachers all spoke highly of her—she really did have excellent grades. It seemed she was friendly with everyone in her class and on her team. I’ve hit a block.”

“That’s frustrating.”

“The bruises you mentioned are bothering me,” Yoongi adds. “They don’t seem to have an explanation and the parents seemed surprised when we asked them about it.”

“Alibis for the parents?”

“Asleep at home,” he hums. “No way for us to check that. Sohee was on her way back from swim practice and when she didn’t show up at home at the regular time by 10pm her mother started worrying. They claimed they would call the police the next day, but of course it was too late.”

“They didn’t think their daughter not showing up at home was a cause for panic?” You ask. “It’s weird to me. She wasn’t the rebellious type, so this must not have been normal behaviour.”

“You’re set on the parents, aren’t you?” Yoongi grins, stretching his legs out.

“It’s just this feeling, I don’t even have an explanation for it.”

“A hunch.”

“Yes but no proof,” You grit your teeth in frustration.

It rains on your second day in Busan. You roll out of bed to the sound of the tell-tale pitter patter and groan. Getting ready and putting on the jeans from yesterday along with a black dress shirt, you hop around trying to tuck it into the waistband. There’s a knock on your door and you open it to greet Jungkook.

“Oh—hey,” he is not who you expected to be at your door so early in the morning.

“Your partner left your hotel info with Tae.” He says, curious eyes peering around your hotel room. You quirk a small smile and let him in. He sits down on the chair Yoongi was occupying last night.

“So, what’s up?”

“We found a suspiciously large amount of money in a savings account under Park Sohee’s name,” Jungkook is still looking around your room curiously and you don’t know why.

“Suspicious?”

“She was sixteen,” he says. “What’s a 16 year old doing with fifty million won?” Your eyes widen at the amount.

“Do her parents know?”

“We’re going down to see them now that’s why I’m here.” Jungkook stands up. “Where’s Min?”

“In his room probably. He’s not a morning person.” Jungkook blinks down at you.

“You two aren’t sharing a room?”

“Huh?” You pause mid-way of packing your backpack for the day. “Why would we?”

“Because… you’re together—wait what,” Jungkook looks so confused you almost find it adorable.

“What the fuck Jeon, we’re not together – not like that.” You say.

“B-but yesterday you said you’d moved on with him—”

“Yes, as partners – you know? The thing we do for work.” You’re trying not to laugh.

“B-but you own a dog together and live together.”

“We’re cops, Jeon, not billionaires. Rent in Seoul is atrocious, he’s my roommate. Also, Holly is Yoongi’s dog, not mine.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook hides his face behind his hands and sits back down. You’re laughing. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“You know—you should ask Yoongi how Jung Hoseok is doing.” You say, grinning.

“Who?” Jungkook looks up.

“His boyfriend,” you’re trying hard not to burst back into giggles. “Lives in Gwangju on a temporary assignment. The guy whose room I’m technically renting out. They were roommates before getting together. When he had to move out for work, Yoongi needed someone to help cover the rent.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans, hiding behind his hands again. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say laughing. “Easy mistake to make… I think?” Jungkook is looking at you from in-between his fingers.

“So then, are you seeing anyone?” His direct tone throws you off. You turn to fully look at him, but a knock on the door interrupts you both.

It’s Yoongi, and he doesn’t look surprised to see Jungkook in your room.

“Taehyung texted me,” he says. “Detective Jeon,” he adds in greeting.

“Please,” Jungkook smiles, “call me Jungkook.” Yoongi raises both his eyebrows and looks at you in question and you’re trying to fight laughter once again.

The ride to the victim’s parents’ house is quiet. Taehyung drives and you spend the time pondering over Jungkook’s words from earlier. He’d been angry yesterday because he’d assumed you and Yoongi were together. You frown to yourself because nothing makes sense. Had he fallen out with Jangmi? But it’s not like Jungkook had ever thought about you as anything other than a friend. You remember his words from back then, loud and clear, and they come back to you now.

“I’m sorry.”

You remember his apologetic eyes, the glint of his wedding band; he had looked like a child who’d been told off. You hate that look, the pity staring down at you. But most of all you hate the fact that you’d been rejected before you’d even had a chance to explain. A mutual friend had let the cat out of the bag at a party, and Jungkook being Jungkook had confronted you right away. None of it had been on your own terms.

You’d brushed it off as a small crush, defence mechanisms kicking in, but things had never been the same afterwards. Jungkook had always been good at seeing right through you and he could tell you’d been lying about the depth of your feelings.

You clench your fist. Moving to Seoul had meant burying all this behind you, pretending none of it had happened, forgetting about Jungkook and how madly in love you’d been with him. You’d always been good at compartmentalizing, it’s what made you a good cop. You’d ignored everything for two years. Until now.

Yoongi calls your name, breaking you out of your reverie. You’re at Park Sohee’s home, but you can see from your seat in the car that the main door is ajar. Jungkook is already tossing you a vest which you hastily put on. He pulls out his gun and exits out the car. The three of you follow suit.

“Stand guard at the back, we’ll clear the house.” Taehyung tells you and you and Yoongi nod. The two of you position yourself near the backdoor. After about 10 minutes you hear Jungkook shout. The backdoor opens, and his head peeks out.

“Father missing, but we found his wife,” at your expression, he continues, “Dead, in the bathtub. Overdosed, it seems, in an apparent suicide. She left a note.” He holds up a piece of paper.

“Her husband, a nasty man, is our guy.”  

“Where is he?”

“Taehyung is putting a trace on his credit cards and cellphone as we speak.”

You’re reading the note, disgust piling up inside you. Sohee’s father had been an abusive man, and she was planning on running away and going to the police. She sold some of her clothes and other belongs to earn money through the years. The mother, an abused woman herself was complicit in the crime but had been unable to handle the guilt.

“This man killed his daughter and is directly responsible for another woman’s death. We better find him.”

At that moment, Taehyung appears at the door.

“Got him, let’s go.”

“When we said he was amateur at this, I didn’t mean this amateur.” You say, staring at the balding man through the one-sided mirror.

“He panicked when his daughter threatened to go to the police and killed her in a fit of rage. Then he tried to cover it up.”

“Only a psychopath tries to copy other psychopaths.” Yoongi says behind you. Jungkook is in the interrogation room, dark jeans and a dark t-shirt on, looking like he’s going to strangle the living daylights out of Park Sohee’s killer. His arms are bare for the first time since you’ve been back, and you can see the black ink swirling all the way up and disappearing into his sleeve. They’re all little designs, instead of a cohesive piece, as though he got them done separately.

“When are you guys heading out?” Taehyung asks. “We should at least grab a drink before you go.”

“We managed to get in on a train this evening,” Yoongi says apologetically. “Duty calls back home.”

“We’re still going to stop in Daegu for the night to wish Yoongi’s mother a happy birthday.” You tell Taehyung. “Early morning tomorrow, we head back to Seoul.”

“That’s too bad,” Taehyung nudges you playfully. “We barely had time to catch up.” You smile slightly, still staring at Jungkook, who’s coaxing a confession out of the man. You can’t deny that you want to leave Busan as soon as possible, but somewhere deep inside your heart breaks.

Park Sohee’s father confesses not too shortly after that and the case is officially closed. Taehyung suggests a late lunch at a nearby restaurant as a final get-together before you and Yoongi have to leave in the evening. Jungkook doesn’t say much throughout the meal, only offering a distracted smile every now and then.

When the four of you are heading out Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Can we talk?” he asks and you look over at Yoongi who gives you a small smile.

“I’ll meet you at the train station tonight then,” is all he says before pulling Taehyung away towards his car. Jungkook is still looking at you.

“Walk with me,” he says, and you do, falling into step beside him. “I think we need to clear up some misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“I broke up with Jangmi,” he starts and you’re genuinely surprised to hear that. “Actually—she broke up with me. It’s been over a year since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say carefully, hating yourself for the selfish happiness that blooms inside you. “What happened?”

“She left me for someone else,” Jungkook says, smiling lightly. He doesn’t look hurt. “Someone who can love her way more than I ever could.”

“That’s so not true,” you argue back. “You loved her.”

“I did,” he agrees, and you try not to wince. It’s harder to hear it than say it. “To an extent. When she left, I didn’t cry. In fact, I was barely upset, and I hated myself even more for that. But then Jangmi pointed something out that made me see things very clearly.”

“What was that?” you whisper. The two of you are standing beside Nakdong river now, cyclists and runners passing by you in the blink of an eye. The air smells fresh and cold, the rain having left behind a chill and bright blue sky.

“She pointed out that I was more upset when you moved away than I was when she told me there was someone else for her.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Oh.” Is all you say.

“When I apologized yesterday, for ruining everything, I meant that I was sorry that I was so confused. My confusion and indecisiveness ruined everything. When everything became clear to me, you were already gone.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?” you ask, your voice still hushed.

“I tried,” he is being earnest now. “Your parents had already moved to Seoul, and I contacted Kim Jooyoung from school to see if she knew of your contact information, she was your best friend in college after all. All she had was a cellphone and a landline phone number, but it was worth a shot. When I called, your old roommate picked up and said you’d moved in with some guy. When I tried your cellphone, it was dead.”

“Oh I-I changed my number,” you say, your voice shaky. “I don’t even remember why now—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook’s voice is urgent. “Before today I’d made peace with the fact that you were the one that got away. I could look you up using my connections but until today I was under the assumption you’d moved on. But you’re here now, by some miracle, if I can even call it that given the circumstances, but to me its too big of a coincidence to just pass up.”

You watch him quietly. He’s slightly out of breath and the wind ruffles through his dark hair.

“You never got to answer my question from earlier,” he says. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“N-no I’m not but—” You never get to finish your sentence because Jungkook is leaning in and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come up to rest on your shoulders, then your neck and then your cheeks, which he grazes with his thumbs. Once you get over your initial shock, you reach up to tentatively grasp his t-shirt on both sides. He tastes like the hot chocolate he had with his lunch. You feel his tongue tentatively swiping at you and you open yourself up to him. Immediately, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like both, and eternity and a few short seconds, he pulls away. His lips are glistening and swollen and he’s out of breath.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, hands still cupping your cheeks. “Stay here.” Slowly, you pull away, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” you start. “My entire life is in Seoul, Jungkook, I can’t just up and leave—”

“You just up and left Busan,” he says, and you freeze. Studying your sudden shift in expression, he hastily corrects himself, “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong.”

“Jungkook,” you say, hoping you sound more patient than you feel. “Things are different now; I’m almost settled down in Seoul. I love Busan, I do, but I have no intention of moving back here. My family lives in Seoul now too and my lease with Yoongi isn’t even up, and I love my job, I wouldn’t dream to leave it.” Jungkook abruptly pulls away. “And I won’t ask you to leave Busan, I know how much you love it here.”

“Then what now,” he asks, a small smile on his face. “That’s it? You leave tonight and I never hear from you again?”

“I never said that,” you say softly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” he mumbles, and you giggle.  “Do you at least feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do,” you say. “Otherwise I’d have pushed you into the river by now for your advances. Give me some time to think things through alright?”

“But—”

“We have a case back home that needs us, I really do have to go back today. Yoongi’s visiting his family tonight and I’ve made him a promise to come along and they’re expecting me. I won’t go back on that.”

Jungkook is now silent, staring wordlessly at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“Yes.” He answers. There’s no hesitation in his voice. You smile.

Six Months Later

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks. The party is in full swing, loud music almost drowning out his voice. He’s holding a cup of clear liquid in his hands and you doubt it’s water.

“Yeah it’s not a problem, I can watch Holly for the weekend.”

“I’ll drop him off on Friday then,”

“That’s fine! You and Hobi deserve the weekend away.”

“But it’s not a hassle for you? It’s your weekend off too,”

“Yoongi I’m not going to try and convince you to let me take care of your dog in the middle of Hoseok’s welcome-back-bash.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Hoseok slithers in next to you, tossing an arm around your neck.

“Yoongi’s worried about his dog,” you roll your eyes. “This has never happened before.”

“I’m not worried,” Yoongi seethes, making you and Hoseok laugh. “I just don’t want my dog being neglected because you and Jeon are copulating like rabbits all weekend.” Blood rushes to your ears and you grit your teeth.

“Jungkook’s going to be too busy this weekend for that, I promise you.”

“Oh yeah, has he found an apartment yet?” Hoseok asks conversationally.

“Yeah, he’s signing the lease on Friday, and then moving here over the weekend.”

“And he starts work on Monday?” You nod.

“The Organized Crime boys are gonna love him,” Yoongi grins. “Man will fit right in. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since you two arrived.”

“Right here Min,” Jungkook pops out of nowhere, a wide grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes. “What’s up?”

“Yoongi thinks we aren’t responsible enough to take care of his precious dog.”

“I believe the phrase he used was, ‘copulating like rabbits’” Hoseok chimes in unhelpfully. You elbow him in the stomach. Jungkook eyes you, grin fading a little and you recognize the dangerous spark in his eyes.

“Well he’s not wrong—” he starts, but is met by loud interruptions from you, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Too much information!” Yoongi yells, downing his drink. “You two are disgusting! Lets go Hobi.”

Jungkook comes up to you, still grinning slyly and you automatically slip your arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, looking up at him. Jungkook has an arm around your shoulder as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Bit too late to ask me that, don’t you think babe?” You pinch his waist and he yells out loud. “I didn’t move to Seoul for you, I moved here for the job.”

“Ha. Ha,” you roll your eyes, but a part of you knows it’s partially true anyway. Long distance between Busan and Seoul hadn’t treated you too badly and things had been going surprisingly well. You were a good five months into your newfound relationship when there had been a sudden opening in the Organized Crime unit, a real step-up for Jungkook’s career. Jungkook had told you once he’d applied for the job that he’d have applied anyway regardless if you were in the picture or not, and you appreciated his honesty. Both of you had always been the type to put your careers first, but you couldn’t believe your luck that things had just fallen into place like this. You’re happy for him.

“Although having you here is a pretty sweet bonus,” Jungkook adds, making you smile. The two of you stand there in silence, arm-in-arm, enjoying the celebrations from afar.