#the stronger he gets the harder it gets to investigate him

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Thinking about a version of Danny who actually has the good sense to hide his identity. He has an astronaut helmet with stars reflected on the screen and a spirit box on his hip that acts as a kind of voice modulator; he only goes by Phantom rather than Danny Phantom and he actually puts some effort into lying.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Kitsune + Child Reader Part II

Part 1

Usually the morning is spent waiting for the head maid to feed you your breakfast after they wake you up

But they aren’t there instead you’re struggling to put a shirt on yourself and it’s not the nice ones you usually have

He sees you drag a stool around as you grab food and different tools around the house

And then with unknown urgency, he goes to meet you as you struggle to crawl over the wall of your home

“I’m on a journey. My parents have been taken and I have to get them back.”

“Oh, really by who?”

“I don’t know but I only have a month so I have to get started.”

He’ll join you on your journey 

Both at your side and away from you

Watching in the trees

He likes getting to watch up close now

Without the reflection of a crystal ball or the pane of glass in the way

That and he can pull on your cheeks however many times he likes

He can also see how cute your fingers are in comparison to his

How did he not notice before

How cute it is to watch you hop on rocks to cross the stream 

Or how you have to argue with adults who get in your way

It isn’t until you get nearly finished in your journey that he actually begins to intervene

The obstacles have gotten harder

He had to carry you over the ravine with an unstable rock passage 

it is only then he stops messing around and investigates without you

Specifically after making a hearty meal for you

He puts a protective seal and a tracking seal on you while he goes ahead 

At a kitsune’s speed

He finds out quickly that your parents are alive but they have much less than a month

He doesn’t know why he searches with such speed

Finding the culprit to be none other than another kitsune 

an older one

A stronger one

She claims it was all a game citing specific moments of the journey he endured with you

Full on belly laughing as she recalls when you almost fell into a pit of spikes

He really doesn’t like this

But he pretends to not be disgusted asking for the parents she confiscated

Come to find out the souls were carefully picked out leaving them lifeless husks

She laughs about the futility 

Saying she’ll be gentle when she eats your soul

He kills her without restraint

Something snaps like he’s never known before 

Ravishing her body with a force he didn’t know he had he leaves nothing

Only really snapping out of it when you meekly call him by the fake name he’s given you

Turns out you did trick him 

Encouraging a tanuki to take your place

He’s impressed but he’s horrified

You know everything asking that he put them out of their misery and help you bury them

He does so 

Finding that he has to encourage you to grieve

You’ve worked so hard

 overcome so much

 grown-up despite still being the same little one who liked to play

You do cry 

Crying into his yukata as you both prepare to set out lanterns

After some more crying-induced nights he elects to take you home

To his home

Which you struggle against

Despite you being a child you feel like you can take on the world now understanding the adults' job so much better

But Ryo, the kitsune won’t have it

When you passionately argue your point he only sighs

Before wrapping you up in silk and tying to his chest

He takes you back to his shrine where he makes some big changes

Less parties, less friends, and more research

Now he only focuses on extending your life specifically your childhood

You're a clever kid

He doesn’t know if he can handle a clever teen let alone an adult

So that’s his goal 

Searching relentlessly for 'a cure' before your childhood runs out

But when he’s not doing that he dotes on you

Settling into this way of life he finds that Yuki Ona’s words to be quite true

He couldn’t imagine ever caring so deeply for anyone let alone a child 

but he does

And he’d give the world to keep it this way

[lisired]

i thought you were dead

pairing: yuta x (f) reader

genre/warnings: murder, angst, violence, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), choking

summary: after investigating the activity of a local gang, your boss abruptly disappears, and it's up to you to find out what happened to him. you almost immediately suspect the reapers, one of the most infamous gangs in seoul. and yuta is willing to lend a hand in your operation, but only at a cost; forget him in the end.

word count: 20k

a/n: part 2/3 of my wanted: dead or alive series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

“I want him dead, woman.”

Every bone in your body was itching with the overwhelmingly extreme urge to roll your eyes. Though rather than lose your job, or potentially your life, you held back and replied, “Got it, boss.” 

You knew this conversation had been long overdue, but that didn’t mean you were any more eager to have it with him. Your boss could be a pain in the ass sometimes. He never cut anyone any slack and he took retribution way too seriously. 

That said, you supposed he had his reasons. As an inner circle member of one the most infamous gangs in the country, he had as much to lose as he had to gain. It made perfect sense, you knew, that he wanted his marks completely dead. Not barely on the cusp of consciousness. 

As if you gave a damn what he wanted.

“Jaehyun giving you a hard time?”

Coming out the door of the arms building, directly beneath the entire two floors of the narcotics trade happenings, you turned when you heard a familiar voice behind you. “When is he not?”

Jeno snickered and shoved his hands in his pockets. “He can be a pain in the ass. And he’s even harder on the noobs. I think you’ll get used to it though.”

You snorted. “You have that much confidence in me?”

Jeno nodded. That notorious grin was still on his face to express his amusement, but he seemed authentic as he replied, “Yes, because you’re stronger than the other recruits I see come in and out.”

Your brows furrowed together. In your three months under this gang, barely anybody had spared you genuine kindness. “What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t tried to slap the shit out of him yet.”

That was the last answer you were expecting to hear, so it made you burst into laughter. 

Pleased by having made you laugh, Jeno smiled a little wider. “May I tag along?”

“Please do,” you told him, the tone in your voice dangerously close to desperate. “When I was told I was being assigned to the arms unit, no one told me the head motherfucker of it all is also the one playing God.”

That was a lie, of course. You knew early on that Jaehyun juggled both the arms trafficking operation and the responsibility of getting rid of anybody who slighted the syndicate. Your real boss’ leftover notes were thorough and neat.

But that was nothing Jeno needed to know. As far as he knew, you were merely another newcomer anticipating to make dirty money by illegal means. And you had every last intention of keeping that dirty little image in his head. You had a role to play. 

Pulling a pair of keys from the pockets his hands had been buried in, Jeno chirped, “I’ll do the driving.”

You made no argument, following him to his car and climbing into the passenger seat. 

After giving him the coordinates of whatever location Jaehyun had sent you off to, Jeno drove you halfway across the city to an abandoned warehouse. The whole structure looked a whole breath away from giving in on itself. 

Jeno grimaced. “I’d hate to die here.”

You laughed at that, heading for the door. 

Jaemin blew out an exasperated breath when he saw you entering the warehouse and stood up from a crate he had been sitting on. “Fucking finally. Jaehyun never mentioned that you’d be bringing company.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t blame him for being vexed. The drive here had taken a good minute and if he had been here since you were informed of your assignment, he had been waiting even longer. 

“Nice to see you too, Jaemin,” Jeno replied sarcastically. 

Surprise flickered onto your face for a split second. You had no idea how they knew each other, but it was far from impossible. They both worked for the same bastard whose bidding you were doing right now. 

Jaemin was annoyed. “I would be happier to see you if you both were on time.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jeno pointed at the back of Jaemin’s pants with a sly expression. “You’ve got a little something there.”

With another irritated breath, Jaemin dusted off his pants. Most of his current frustrations seemed aimed at the fact that this warehouse was barely holding itself together. “This place is old as fuck. I think something crawled and died in that crate. Like seven years ago.”

Even though you wanted to giggle, the urge was overcome by the one to get this over with so that you could do something meaningful. “Where’s Kang Hangyeol? I’m trusting you didn’t leave him alone.”

“Do I look like an amateur to you?” Jaemin asked, waving you off. “He’s in the back. There’s no way he’s moving out of that position, dead or alive. Follow me.”

You trailed closely behind as Jaemin led you through the old warehouse. There was a clutter of dust-laden boxes and a slew of spider webs in every available corner. Graffiti that looked maybe a few years old was the only proof of recent human activity. 

“What’s this guy dying for anyway?” you asked, disguising your concern as innocent curiosity. You didn’t want to make it obvious that you were trying to justify your inevitable actions. 

Jaemin, on the other hand, didn’t seem as worried. This was a life he had led for years and no one would expect anything other than him to be committed. “Apparently, he’s a brother. He was caught sneaking on our turf.”

Your brows furrowed, imagining what a brother was doing on Reaper playgrounds. They had no business being even remotely near this gang and any of its less than luxurious locations. “You’re sure he’s a brother?”

“Yeah, they found him in one of those ugly masks.”

Jeno snorted.

Nearing the forthcoming doorway, you reached for the switchblade you had tucked away, unsure what you were going to do with it in the first place. At times, it was less like a weapon and more like a comfort tool. And you needed comfort right now. Your involvement as an undercover cop didn’t legally or emotionally justify taking someone’s life. 

No doubt, it was the worst part of being undercover. You advanced your way through the ranks most times, meaning you gained enough authority to convince your new peers to spare innocent lives, but this syndicate was something bigger than you had ever experienced. It would take years to infiltrate their innermost hierarchy. And you didn’t have years. 

Jaemin reached for the door knob and pulled it open, expecting to see a half-conscious man bound with his arms behind his back. Imagine your collective shock when you saw nothing but an empty wooden chair next to a pile of rope. 

“Where’s Hangyeol?” Jaemin stammered. 

“I was expecting you to know,” you mumbled, inspecting what all was leftover. There were a few drops of blood on the chair at best. You clutched your switchblade tighter.

At least Jaehyun wouldn’t be pissed at you this time. You could already imagine the verbal backlash Jaemin was going to get for this. Not even you had messed up this badly before. 

Jeno leaned on the wall, entertained by everything as always. “Nah, you don’t seem like an amateur, man. Total pro.”

Jaemin groaned, “This is serious!”

Not a second later, you heard a gunshot echoing out in the main entrance of the warehouse. This felt like a setup somehow. You clutched your switchblade tighter, hissing, “You had one fucking job, Jaemin!”

He opened his mouth to say something about how this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t have to babysit you to make sure you went through with the kill, but you all froze when you heard a second gunshot. 

Jaemin grabbed the bag slung over his shoulders and set it down on the chair where your mark should have been instead. He handed Jeno a gun and took one for himself, then pivoted towards you. “You sure you don’t want one?”

You shook your head. The knife in your hands would suffice. They always had. “I’m good.”

“You know what they say,” Jeno chimed in. “Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

That was true for someone maybe. But even though you had gone through your annual firearm training with the academy, you were stubborn and preferred your blades. “She’s my baby.”

“That’s even worse. Who brings a baby to a gunfight?”

You were tempted to laugh, but you could hear the chaos unfolding practically right outside the door and it unnerved you. “I do. Let’s go.”

The dark hallway outside the old storage closet led you back to the main entrance of the warehouse through a little opening. You could see brothers rummaging the place and took a wild guess that they were here to take back their own. 

A little headcount went on in your head as you noted the number of armed, masked men you saw lurking expectantly around every inch of the unloading site. The three of you were definitely outnumbered, that was for certain. 

“I counted fourteen,” you whispered quietly. “Are we good?”

Jeno nodded, gun close to his chest. He looked more serious right now than ever. “I’ve got your six. Let’s move.”

That was all you needed to hear as you dove headfirst into the bloody sea of chaos. While Jaemin and Jeno immediately started to fire their weapons, stealing all the attention, you hid close on anything you could find and ambushed, coming up behind and dragging your blade against the cold necks of your enemies. 

Your ears went deaf to the cacophony of masculine shouts as men dropped like flies around you. The sound bled into choked noises with every throat you impaled. 

They were strong men, but you were swifter. Both were lethal and dangerous, but they couldn’t touch you if you didn’t let them. You were too nimble for them to keep up with, too quick.

But the one time you didn’t move quick enough, you rolled onto the filthy floor and looked down the barrel of a gun. You groaned, raising your head a little higher to meet the bloody eyes of your mark. 

He was right there in the flesh, hovering over you with a sly grin as if he was proud of what he had done. You were insulted to even be held at gunpoint. Every desire to spare him immediately fled your body and you raised your switchblade, penetrating his throat without hesitation. 

Not stopping to watch him bleed, you turned your head just quickly enough to see Jeno’s gun be kicked out of his hands. You wiped the blood from your knife and furtively approached his aggressor, briefly catching him off guard and kicking the gun back. 

Jeno scrambled towards the gun and quickly opened fire, the sound making your ears ring obnoxiously. 

“Goddamn,” you said, shaking your head in disapproval. 

Jaemin came over panting for breath, glancing around to make sure the entire room had been cleared. “I think I should be getting paid extra for this.”

Jeno snorted and came to a stand, directing his attention back to your face. “Remind me to never again invite myself on one of your assignments.”

Your shoulders shook with a laugh. That was fair enough. But there was definitely bigger fish to fry right now. How in the hell did the Brotherhood know where Kang Hangyeol was being held?

The three of your phones beeped collectively. With all the fighting and being thrown you each had done, it was a miracle they were still functioning. You glanced down to read a message Jaehyun had sent. 

Several bases have been attacked. Going incognito. More details later. Lay low until further notice. 

Your brows furrowed. “What the hell?”

“Vague as fuck,” Jeno replied, as if he had read your mind. “He must be in a meeting.”

Jaemin scoffed. “So what do we do then? Just wait around to die?”

You closed your blade and shook your head, reminding, “You’re already going to die. You let Kang Hangyeol get away. Remember?”

“That’s not the version of the story I plan on telling Jaehyun.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you start being nice to me, I’ll leave that part out of my report.”

Jaemin hummed, as if he was mulling it over. “Deal.”

You nodded with a tiny sigh. Nothing good was going to come out of rival gangs taking turns exacting revenge on each other. You knew that like you knew the law. 

Jeno safely returned you to the headquarters with a little farewell and warning to be safe before you went your separate ways. Normally, you would meet Jaehyun in person to briefly discuss the happenings of your task, but he wasn’t in his office. He would have to settle for the paragraph you sent to his phone. 

Upon entering the tiny apartment you had surprisingly been offered by the Reapers, you almost immediately collapsed on the bed, worn down by exhaustion. 

You had nearly dozed off completely when the sound of your phone ringing made you jolt awake. “Hello?” you answered weakly. 

“Is someone sleepy?” Ten teased. 

You groaned. If not for the fact that you had recognized your co-worker’s number, you would be sleeping right now. “I had a very, very long day.”

That piqued Ten’s interest. “You did? Tell me everything.”

You sat up, trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. Stifling a yawn, you replied nonchalantly, “Oh, you know. The usual running around the city, trying to look like a loyal employee, and nearly getting shot to death.”

“Nearly getting shot to death?” Ten’s voice was loud as hell, repeating your words with shock. 

Well, if you weren’t awake before, you definitely were now. “I’m fine. No more bullets for me. It wasn’t the first time and it probably won’t be the last either.”

You couldn’t recall the first time someone had attempted to shoot you, but the memory of the first and last time they successfully did so was something you would always remember. Across the world in the United States, on a mission to track and detain a gang leader moving in and out of the country to evade arrest. 

Surprisingly enough, with it being an open case, that wasn’t even the mission that made you quit being a spy. Until now. 

“You got lucky the last time you got shot,” Ten replied, hating how casual you were about it but almost somewhat impressed. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I’ll try,” you replied quietly, fully awake but still mindful of the fact that these walls were thin and you had no intention of exposing yourself. You switched the topic. “How’s the birthday boy?”

Ten wanted to talk more about the hectic day you had, but he supposed he could let it slide this once. “He’s twenty-five and drunk as all hell.”

You shook your head in amusement. You had expected nothing less. “I remember when I turned twenty-five.”

“I don’t,” Ten retorted. “I was blackout drunk too. He’s not going to remember either.”

You snickered. As long as Mark was having fun, that was all that mattered. “He should go wild. At that age, life becomes more about experiencing and less about surviving.”

“I assume that’s why you think barely dodging a bullet is no big deal?”

You resisted a roll of your eyes. Leave it to Ten to be utterly dramatic when it came to all things big and small. “No, actually. I call that focusing on the things I can control and not dwelling on what’s behind me.”

Ten sighed. You were insufferably stubborn, and even when you had gotten shot your first priority was still your work. They had to more or less chain you down to make you rest. “Whatever,” he replied, tone laced with disapproval. “Do you want me to put him on?”

“Yes, please.”

There was a moment of shuffling as Ten went to find Mark, not that it took very long. In a matter of seconds, you heard Mark enthusiastically greeting you by your name. 

“Hey, birthday boy,” you said happily, content to hear your co-workers’ voices. It brought them peace too. Knowing you were still alive and breathing somewhere. “How much did you drink?”

Mark chuckled. You could imagine he was rubbing his nape right now. “Not gonna lie, I have no idea. But I’m feeling good.”

“As to be expected,” you replied, leaning back a little against the headboard of the bed. “How have you been?”

“I’m honestly bummed that you’re not here. But hey, I did finish this case I was working on. I kept asking myself what you would do.”

You snorted. “And that’s how you solved the case?”

“Well, Ten and Jisung helped too,” Mark confessed. 

You laughed. 

“What about you?” Mark asked. “How’s the case going? I heard Ten screeching something about you almost getting shot. You good?”

Your mind brought you back to that moment for a second, being knocked underneath the mark and coming face to face with the barrel of a gun, but you banished the thought away. “I’m good. Not a nick or bruise.”

Mark hummed. He chose to believe you had everything under control. It wasn’t that he didn’t worry about you sometimes, but he knew what you were capable of and admired your strength. “And the case. How do you feel about finding Kun?”

Something about the mention of your boss made you frown. After retiring from being an undercover spy three years ago, you decided to make yourself useful in other ways, and had been transferred directly under his unit. You had mainly adjusted to handling organized crime without being on the field yourself. 

A few months ago, Kun had been investigating a gang called the Reapers. He’d been playing it close to the chest and you only found out because he had been acting suspiciously lately. He made you swear to secrecy, which you did. Until he disappeared into thin air. 

The worst part was that he had been missing for literal months and you didn’t feel like you had made any significant progress. You knew deep down that his chances of being alive were slimmer than ever, but you wanted to have faith in the odds. Kun had dedicated his entire life to the force, but he wanted to settle down someday. He wanted a wife and maybe a couple of kids. 

The thought that he would never get to do those things chilled you to the core every time it crossed your mind. You sighed and replied honestly, “I feel like it’ll be a while, but I’m doing everything I can.”

Mark would have to be content with that answer for now. He knew you would find Kun, whether it be dead or alive. He just hoped it would be the latter. “I have faith in you,” he told you sincerely. 

“Thank you,” you replied, somewhat comforted by those words. “I’ll hear from you again soon. Happy birthday.”

Mark smiled as he held Ten’s phone to his ear. “Thanks. Talk to you later.”

The very next day, you woke up to another message from Jaehyun that had less to do with details about the attacks from yesterday and more to do with something about a weird buddy system. According to him, you would new a partner from now on. 

You didn’t exactly have many friends here, so your first instinct was to call Jeno. 

“What do you mean you already have a partner?” you asked, flabbergasted. Something told you that he had chosen Jaemin over you. 

Jeno was trying his best to let you down gently. “I mean, I already have a partner. You called a little too late. It’s a shame we can only choose one. The three of us would’ve made a good team.” 

You sighed exasperatedly. You were on a to-and-from lockdown, no detours. And you needed a partner for whatever fucking reason. This gang was impossible. “Do you have some kind of humiliation kink? That fool almost got us killed yesterday.”

Jeno tried to stifle a chortle and failed miserably. “He might be a fool, but he’s my friend. I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me when you’re in cahoots with Na Jaemin of all the people in the world.”

You could hear Jeno sighing from the other line, contemplating the situation carefully. He didn’t want to leave you hanging. “Hear me out,” he started. 

Although you were glancing down at the phone in the palm of your hand with a blend of disdain and disappointment, you answered reluctantly, “I’m hearing you.”

“I heard around that some of the high-ranks are taking in their best soldiers.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly, not sure if you liked where this was going or not. But you chose to think about it pragmatically. If you were closer to the high-ranks, you had more access to hidden intel.

“I know a guy who knows a guy, who knows a guy. He’s the gang’s tracker. The one who can find anyone and everyone. If there’s anyone who can keep you safe, it’s him,” he continued. 

So he was a dangerous man. Not that you were any afraid. You had met many lethal men and yet you were still breathing. “Okay. When can I meet him?”

“Right now.”

Your head snapped behind you. That voice didn’t belong to the one on your phone. It belonged to someone merely a couple feet away from you. If you thought you were stealthy, this man gave you a run for every dime you owned. 

You stumbled back. Your eyes went wide. The blood drained from your face as if you had seen a ghost. And to be fair, that was exactly what was happening. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Yuta told you indifferently. The sound of his voice did nothing to put your nerves at ease. Your shoulders were cold. Your heart was thudding. 

You had been located by the tracker. You swallowed sharply. It took every bit of your strength not to collapse in front of him. “You’re the third-in-command.”

“That’s me,” Yuta replied calmly. He took your phone and hung up the call. You hadn’t even registered Jeno’s bemused voice calling out to you worriedly. 

To be frank, it felt like you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. This was the last man you were expecting to see. Ever. “I can find another partner.”

Yuta chuckled. “You will find another partner in a group of people who hate talking to strangers whose intentions they don’t know?”

“You don’t know my intentions either.”

That seemed to amuse Yuta more than the last response you gave him. “Kim Yeongsu. Ahn Dongil. Cho Geonhan. You still want to play dumb?”

That had your attention. Your work always came first. You would follow the trail of breadcrumbs if it meant there was a chance they would lead you to success, even if it was a trap. 

Yuta didn’t wait for your answer. Apparently the look on your face said more than enough. You were game. “Go to housing. Pack your shit. I know you didn’t bring a ton anyways.”

That was a little too true, but a thought crossed your mind. He was helping you, and you couldn’t imagine why. “What do you want in return?” you asked skeptically. 

The little grin on Yuta’s lips fell. You felt something gloomy inside you stirring, but ignored it the best you could. There was no time for old emotions. After a small pause, he replied darkly, “Forget we ever happened.”

“Consider it already done,” you said, cold as ice, and paid the throbbing emptiness in your chest no mind. 

After you gathered what few things you had from the apartment you’d been given, you went straight to Yuta’s place. He was none too happy to see you, at least from the less than warm look on his face, but he opened his doors for you and let you inside. 

Leading you down the hall to an extra bedroom, Yuta skipped the greetings and niceties. “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t bother me and don’t leave on your own. I don’t feel like getting shit from Taeyong.”

You nodded. Yuta turned and headed out, and the second he was out of earshot you grumbled something under your breath. Did he really have to be so rude?

Maybe you deserved it. Not that you would ever admit it to him or yourself. The way you saw it, you had only done everything you knew to do best. You had made no commitments. The only thing you ever promised was absolute and unwavering loyalty to your work. 

Fuck’s sake, you were still in shock. You had spent the past three years of your life believing something that couldn’t have been more false. Three years of your life you would never get back. Didn’t you deserve to be angry too?

Aggravated, you started to unpack your things and put them away somewhere safe. Yuta was right about you not having many belongings. You never did when you were on missions, or even in the very rare event that you were on vacation. They would only weigh you down. 

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand when you were done, knowing Jeno would most likely be demanding some kind of explanation for your abrupt hang-up, and sent a text his way. Yuta is taking me in or whatever. Take care of yourself. And tell Jaemin to be safe too. 

Jeno sent a message back after a few moments. Well, you thought it was Jeno, but considering the content of the message, someone else had gotten ahold of his phone. I’m always safe, princess. Don’t worry, I’ll take perfect care of Jeno. 

You immediately typed a response, After what happened yesterday? Doubtful. 

Will you ever let me live that down?

Unlikely. 

Jaemin was probably somewhere rolling his eyes at your message. In a few seconds, he answered, Are you a human or a magic eight ball?

You laughed a little at that. Some of the stress elevated from your chest, though not by much. You were still fighting in a close battle with your feelings - shock, anger, bitterness. All of the above. 

They were becoming almost uncontrollably strong and the last thing you wanted was to be unable to put a rein on your emotions. You stood up and headed out what was your room for the next who knew how long, checking out the apartment to distract yourself. 

You had been here before. Once. You had gotten hurt and since it was the closest option, Yuta opted to bring you back to his home for the first time to take care of you. The other times you only met in hotels. 

He had taken you to his living room and prompted your legs up on the coffee table, gingerly tending to your injuries. You remembered the guilt in his eyes every time he heard you hiss and saw you grimace. You remembered the way he tried to kiss it better. 

Even now, that same coffee table was still here three years later. The apartment was more or less as you remembered, but Yuta wasn’t. He was so much colder than he was before, but maybe you had done that to him. 

None of it helped. You were still emotional. Remembering the way things used to be only strengthened the tremor in your heart. The only reasonable thing you could do now was focus on your work. At the end of the day, you had a job to do, after all. 

You spotted Yuta with a cup of coffee in the kitchen and mustered the courage to approach him, announcing, “I have a question.”

Yuta winced his eyes closed. “What about ‘don’t bother me’ was confusing to you?”

You took his annoyance in stride. “This group and the Brotherhood are basically at war with each other. Why?”

Yuta shrugged, sipping from his coffee. “We’re their only competition. Do the math.”

You hummed. You had learned that the Reapers dominated the drug market and it was their most lucrative branch of business. Even though you worked beneath its entire two floor levels, you were never allowed to become too privy to the operation itself. It was forbidden knowledge if you were too new. “Have you ever run into one?” you asked curiously. 

“Nope,” Yuta replied nonchalantly. “They’re all mousy about showing their faces and they wear weird masks and stuff.”

That you had learned from your encounter with them the other day, which you wondered if was worth mentioning to Yuta. You decided against it for now. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“You want to know who killed your beloved department chief,” Yuta sang knowingly, setting his mug of coffee down on the counter. 

Those words made you shudder, wondering if he had been keeping tabs on you, but you kept pressing. “Was it the gang?”

Yuta initially shook his head, but then he seemed to genuinely think about it for a second. The silence only served to make you anxious. There was a small pause before he answered, “Well, if someone did, neither of us signed off on the decision. We don’t kill cops. It’s too messy. I don’t like messy.”

You believed him. Though the decision to meddle with cops not being greenlit by the inner circle didn’t mean that any low-ranks weren’t involved. You had to keep digging. “I’m assuming all the names you gave me were low-ranks then,” you replied, piecing things together. “I haven’t ran them through the system yet.”

“They’re low-ranks who had pretty bad prior run-ins with cops,” Yuta explained. 

You were surprised they would knowingly even take in anyone like that, considering how much they seemed against it. “One of them probably did it, then.”

“When you find out, let me know so I can hang them on a billboard in town square,” Yuta said coolly, to no one’s surprise. 

“Or you can let me bring them back to the station and we’ll persecute them to the highest extent of the law,” you suggested instead.

Yuta shook his head, none too enthusiastic to let you do things the legal and proper way. If someone in his gang had done this, they had violated a highly important rule that was more like a law of his own. “My way’s quicker.”

You rolled your eyes while he wasn’t paying attention. There was never any use arguing with Yuta Nakamoto when he wanted something. You learned that early on. He was unshakable in his ways and couldn’t be bent and manipulated into shape like the other pawns you’d hunted. 

But that was what you had liked about him. At least, one of many things on his abundantly long list of attractive traits. The others had only been deliberately chosen expendable tools to leech new intel off and dispose of when you got what you wanted. 

When you met Yuta, however, you knew he could never just be another pawn in your twisted game of survival. He was too intuitive, too perceptive for his own good and yours. You never had the upper hand for long with him. You both had something to lose in mingling with each other, and strangely enough, that made things more exciting. 

Yuta dismissed himself first as if he sensed more questions approaching and knew to disappear before you could conjure them in your head. “Sleep well. I’ve got an early meeting with the boys tomorrow morning, which means you have to come too.”

You watched his back sadly as he left. It was impressive you had gotten him to speak so much, considering he seemed to want nothing to do with you. Though if that was the case, why did he go out of his way to be partners with you?

That was the one thing giving you hope - the single most dangerous thing for someone like you to have. 

Tomorrow rolled around, and like he said you would, you accompanied Yuta to an inner circle meeting. More accurately, you waited outside for him to finish while they discussed the gang’s next steps and back-up plan if their biggest rival challenged them again. 

Nothing you were interested in. You only cared to know who was responsible for the fact that your boss was presumably dead. So far, there was no body, which gave you even more ammunition to keep searching rather than readily move on. 

In your thoughts as you stood outside the door of the conference room, you jolted out of them when you noticed someone coming. And to your surprise, it was Jeno’s footsteps you were hearing. 

Jeno had been looking at his phone, but acknowledged your presence with a baffled look when he glanced up at you. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were here too.”

The shock was mutual. You waved at him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you either.”

“Yeah, Jaemin’s here too,” Jeno replied, slipping his phone into his back pocket and giving you his undivided attention. “He’s downstairs looking for coffee. He really wanted an Iced Americano.”

You shook your head, pretending to be disappointed. “Fish found in the ocean. Who’s surprised?”

Jeno was shaking with laughter. “No one, I guess. I’m also not surprised that they’re kicking us outside instead of letting us listen in on the meeting.”

There was no surprise there. Reapers were painfully stingy with important information, as you had come to know. “I know,” you groaned in annoyance. “Like we don’t deserve to know what the fuck is going on.”

Jeno nodded along, bobbing his head in agreement. He leaned in, mindful of the fact there were a number of dangerous men right behind the door, and whispered, “That’s what I’m saying. Jaehyun ended up more or less adopting Jaemin and I. If you think you hate the guy right now, imagine living in his house.”

You winced, feeling sympathetic. Between his housing situation and yours, you didn’t know which was worse. “Damn.”

He looked behind him to the conference room, hidden behind a glass wall. You could see in all you wanted, but couldn’t hear a word of the conversation. “This buddy system is weird as all fuck. Meeting like this is even stupider,” Jeno said, blunt as ever. “Everybody knows the best time to strike is when they’re all together.”

You hadn’t thought about something like that. In all truth, you had been thinking about Yuta. Nothing he was doing made sense right now and you sensed an ulterior motive behind his seemingly kind actions. He had never helped you for free, after all. There always came a price. 

The price didn’t seem so bad back then. You could have signed your life away to him and wouldn’t have even noticed. He helped you, feeding you intel on an underground fighting gang in Japan, and in return you helped him, giving him special access to cop affairs. 

It cost more now. Or at least it felt that way. The tension was unbearable and the memories leapt at every opportunity to weigh on your mind as well as your heart. Once upon a time, you only felt Yuta’s weight on your body. Things were so much easier before. 

“I guess so,” you told Jeno, forcibly grounding yourself back in the moment. “But I think that all depends on the Brotherhood’s motivations for attacking and what they plan on getting out of this.” 

“A few people are gonna have to die before that gets figured out,” Jeno replied darkly. 

That was very true. Naturally, you had already come to that conclusion too. At this rate, you were expecting a hefty number of casualties on both ends. 

The meeting droned on for what seemed like an eternity before Yuta finally stepped out of the conference room with most of his fellow members in tow. A few had stayed back for whatever reason, but the ones that headed out barely paid you a lick of attention as they made a beeline for the elevator. 

Not that you were complaining, of course. The fact that you were a mere blip on their radar was a good sign, all things considered. But it made you realize that Yuta had never told them what you were. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around why he was helping you. Every time you tried not to worry about the intent behind his deeds, it backfired immediately. And so when you were alone in his car, you asked, “Why are you helping me if you hate me so badly?”

“I’m not helping you,” Yuta told you, buckling his seat belt around his waist. His eyes were nowhere on you. Like you didn’t concern him at all. “I’m helping myself. The sooner you find the bastard that killed your boss, the sooner I can tie up loose ends, and the sooner we can both move on with our lives.”

He didn’t deny hating you. Something about that made your stomach churn. “Well, at least you’re honest,” you mumbled. “And we don’t know if he was killed or not.”

You knew better than to think that he was alive, but you wouldn’t accept it until you saw his corpse for yourself. The people in your unit had come to mean a lot to you over the years. 

Yuta scoffed. If you looked closely enough, you could almost see something bitter in his expression. “Your boss has been missing for what? Two or three months now? You know the statistics better than I do, baby. He’s dead.”

“Statistics aren’t foolproof,” you reminded. 

“I thought they would be to you. Glad to know I was wrong.”

You caught it this time, mainly because he wasn’t cloaking it. The resentment covering his words from head to toe. He wanted you to know he hated you. You swallowed sharply. Message fucking received. 

The ride back was silent. You had everything to say to him, but even more pride. It would do you no good with someone as stubborn as Yuta Nakamoto himself. What would it fix if you admitted you’d done him dirty? Not a goddamn thing. 

You raced into his apartment without another word when you both arrived. There were bigger problems than whatever was going on between the two of you. No issue, big or small, would be allowed to come between you and work and anyone who dared try ultimately faced your wrath. 

Once in your room, you opened your laptop and entered the names Yuta had given you along with additional information you had stumbled across and cross-referenced them against the unit’s current findings. And you came up empty. There was nothing that lent any support to either of those three men being the perpetrators, other than their history of assault on cops which Yuta had already informed you of. 

To say nothing of the fact that the crimes seemed very spontaneous, according to the incident reports available. Like they were simply doing whatever they had to do to remove themselves from the corner they’d been backed into. They were apprehended immediately. No repeats and nothing that screamed violent disdain of cops. 

It was unlikely that their behavior would escalate from second-degree murder to a deliberately executed abduction of a police chief. You shut your laptop, groaning. Yet again, I have fucking nothing.

Nightfall came and a lot of time sped by doing even more research, but to no avail. You weren’t any closer to solving the disappearance of your boss and it was making your skin crawl. Three years away was starting to make you think that you’d lost your touch as a covert. 

Uncontrollably, your mind started to wander to the past. The case that earned you your rep as a prolific undercover agent and simultaneously the last one you ever worked. A memory held you hostage, one of many. 

The room was so hot you couldn’t breathe. It didn’t help that Yuta’s naked body was tangled with yours, refusing to let go after a few long rounds of love-making. At the very least, the luxurious hotel room on the top floor had comfortable bedding and a beautiful window outlook of Yokohama. 

Though your breath was more taken by the view of the gorgeous man in your grip. And the intimate moment you had shared together. “Yuta, I’m scared,” you told him quietly. 

Not more than a few words had been exchanged since you two finished, so Yuta was surprised to hear you speak. “What are you scared of, darling?”

Your heart raced by a thousand miles per hour as you sucked in a breath, willing yourself to remain calm and level. It was not often you were made nervous by something, so Yuta had assumed whatever was troubling you was more or less life-threatening. In a way, he was spot-on. 

His eyes were squarely on you, giving you his undivided attention. Which only made your heart flutter quicker. “I’m scared because I like you,” you confessed in a whisper. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

Yuta’s eyes flickered in surprise. Not by what you had said, but the fact that you’d said it aloud. The two of you had been dancing around the subject of romance for a couple of months now, focusing on the main task instead of the love inadvertently developing between you more quickly than you’d hoped. He hummed. “That scares you?”

“It’s not just that,” you replied, knowing how it sounded. “We’re on two separate sides of the law. After this operation inevitably ends, I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore. I will go back to my way of life and you will go back to yours.”

That had always been the plan. Once you ultimately exhausted your purposes for each other, this little alliance would break. Though Yuta’d had a change of heart. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, cradling your face. “We don’t have to live completely separate lives forever. You’re obviously good at keeping secrets. No one has to know.”

“But it’s wrong.”

“Playing with my dick when you’re supposed to be looking for a serial killer is okay, but secretly being in a relationship with me behind your handler’s back is where you draw the big red line? That cuts deep, babe,” he joked. 

“It’s a thin gray line,” you corrected, matching his humor. “And I think I found the serial killer.”

Yuta playfully rolled his eyes. He’d told you just enough about his job that you didn’t paralyze with fear whenever he touched you, in spite of knowing he had taken lives and would do it again in a heartbeat. He was a protector, a defender. “Yeah, wrong one, baby.”

You giggled. The noise made Yuta’s heart swell in his chest like never before. He wanted to defend you with everything he had, destroy anybody who dreamed of laying even the tip of their fingers on you. He would crush entire worlds in his palm for you.

“I like you too,” Yuta admitted, as if it hadn’t already been obvious. The man fucked you like he wanted to consume you right after. “More than I ever thought I would. Five months ago, I would’ve never imagined I’d be holding you in my arms like this right now, but I wouldn’t have you anywhere else. So tell me what I gotta do to keep you here.”

His words nearly had your head spinning. Your eyes were brimming with affection. “Just hold me like this forever,” you replied softly. 

Yuta smirked. “I think that can be arranged.”

The memory seemed so close, yet so far away. Sometimes you wished you were still somewhere in a hotel in Yokohama or in the alps of Hakone with him pressed into your side. You pictured cherry blossoms and scenic lakes with a view of mountain peaks touching the clouds. You pictured Yuta enthusiastically showing you to all his favorite stops, hand in yours. 

You couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely smiled at you now. The promise to take you to his hometown was one of the last things he’d told you. You remembered how excited he had been. And now he wouldn’t even look at you. 

That hurt like a bitch. 

Something else was bothering you. You more or less always knew Yuta was a powerful gang member, but you never realized he was one of the most influential members of the Reapers. The two of you had been too focused on what was ahead of you to look behind. 

It made you wonder what you really knew about each other. You had seen him as an oasis away from dreadful work, someone who was passionate and intuitive. Someone who got more and more interesting every time he spoke. Someone who kept his heart under lock and key, but loved you with all of it.

Yuta had taken months to get to know. Intentionally. He preferred to take his time when it came to sizing people up and understanding them before they could do the same to him. And he was very, very good at doing so. He guarded his heart and only allowed you to see what he wanted you to see. But you knew how to disarm him.

Like you, he was also obstinate as all hell. It was immovable object meets unstoppable force meeting him. Things were still that way now. You would have to fight like hell and then some if you wanted to prove that you still deserved to be in his life, because he would fight even harder against it. 

You knew he was not one to forgive or forget and he could take a grudge to the grave if he so pleased. Scorpion was his name and stinging was his game. Viper and venom. No wonder his job was to hunt and kill anybody who slighted the gang enough. He was revenge personified. 

Tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep even after a steaming hot shower, you swallowed your pride and paraded straight to Yuta’s bedroom. The door was unlocked. You poked your head inside, the movement not unnoticed by Yuta. He was still awake. 

“The day is already over,” Yuta said dismissively, glancing away from you. “You can bother me with questions tomorrow.”

“I’m not here to ask questions.”

Yuta raised a brow, turning to you again. “Then why are you here?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. This was going to make things awkward. “I don’t want to sleep alone,” you whispered.

“You don’t want to sleep alone,” Yuta repeated, as if he had misheard you.

You nodded slowly. When he echoed your words back to you like that, it only made you feel stupid for thinking he would let you share a room with him, let alone a bed. 

Yuta contemplated your words for a while, mulling a decision over. After a moment, he sighed, relenting. “Come here.”

That surprised you thoroughly. You were half expecting him to tell you that he didn’t give a damn and ask you what you wanted him to do about it. You took a few tentative steps over to him. 

Yuta quirked his brow, patting the spot beside him. His skin looked like honey in the golden-yellow hue of his lamplight. “What are you waiting for? Get in the bed.”

You hesitantly crawled into the bed, underneath his sheets. You were scared of something. You didn’t want to make any more mistakes when it came to him. 

Yuta could practically smell your fear like the musk of an animal. He couldn’t help it. He had seen all of your emotions, especially the ones you pretended not to have in front of others. And he knew them intimately.

He suppressed a smirk. Was it wrong to bask in it a little? “What are you scared of?” he asked. 

Those five words made you freeze, remembering where you had heard them before. That night you confessed your feelings to Yuta in a Yokohama hotel. “I’m not scared of anything,” you lied through your teeth. 

Yuta knew you were lying. He always did, after all. “Tell me the truth.”

You swallowed. He was always so good at reading you. The words were at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say them. “I… didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’ve had women in my bed before, you know,” Yuta replied with a snicker. “I think I’ll be okay.”

You almost rolled your eyes, but then you started thinking about how many women had slept beside him since you weren’t in his life. Your mind was picturing Yuta with some faceless girl, giggling naked underneath the sheets as you had done three years too long ago. 

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, turning around with your back to him. “Goodnight.”

Yuta called out your name sternly. “Look at me.”

You slowly faced him. It was hard to look him in the eyes, but you did it anyway. You wanted to seize the control back. 

Never in a million years would you have assumed that of all things, Yuta would kiss you restlessly. You reciprocated without hesitation, falling into the kiss as if you were picking up where you’d left off. 

Yuta tangled his fingers through your hair, lips moving against yours with something that was dangerously close to pining. Your heart raced at the thought, wondering if he missed you the way you missed him. Three years was too long to be without the only man you’d ever loved. 

Full of surprises, Yuta pressed his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling and marking you as his possessively. He would never admit it to your face, but that was his intent. You couldn’t resist a moan. Yuta knew exactly what to do to get you falling apart in his arms and begging for more like you just couldn’t get enough. 

Your entire body burned with fever. Your eyes winced closed when Yuta sank his teeth into your flesh, the sensation teetering somewhere on that thin line between pain and pleasure. You knew he would leave behind a number of bruises by the time he was finished with you, and you weren’t complaining. 

Yuta had gotten a taste of you and now he couldn’t will himself to stop, against his better judgment. The part of him that wanted to loathe you with every fiber of his being would have to be put on hold for now. He wanted you too badly. His ever-growing resentment for you be damned. 

You missed kissing Yuta to the last breath. Your body remembered what it was like, tasting and sucking on each other’s tongues, and it started to shudder with excitement at the memory. Amongst other things. 

Yuta recognized the telltale signs of you becoming aroused and decided to take things a step further, testing the waters to see if they would slam him against rocks. He brought a hand to your thigh where he knew you were weak and defenseless, tenderly kneading the skin. 

Like clockwork, you were tensing underneath his hands, needily pressing your thighs together. Goddammit it, he still remembered what your weak spots were and how to use them to his advantage. There was something about his warm hand on your skin clashing with the cold nudge of his rings that made you shudder. 

“Yuta,” you called out, reaching your breaking point. 

He didn’t say anything, having too much fun teasing you and watching you get worked over something so simple. “Hm?”

You stifled an irritated groan. He knew exactly what you were going to say, and you knew he only wanted to hear it from your own mouth. “I want you,” you confessed, as if it wasn’t obvious. 

Yuta watched your face, recognizing the look of absolute dwindling patience, and chuckled. “You want me how?”

“However you want.”

Yuta’s eyes flickered in astonishment for all of two seconds. Given the circumstances, he hadn’t expected to hear you say you would let him have you however he wanted, but it damn sure did wonders to turn him on. More than he was already, that is. 

You were less surprised when Yuta stole another steamy and borderline erotic kiss, his hands settling firmly on your jaw instead of combing through your hair this time. His tongue in your mouth had your heart fluttering and your body scalding with relentless desire. 

Yuta withdrew from the kiss to toss his shirt above his head. You mirrored him, and in the few seconds it concealed his face from your view, you were oblivious to where his darkening gaze had sunk. It wasn’t until your shirt was cast into oblivion that you realized he was staring at your belly. 

You glanced down, having forgotten about the long red gunshot scar. You opened your mouth to speak, but Yuta beat you to a word. 

“Who did this to you?” he asked almost threateningly, switching on a dime. 

You shook your head, reaching out to soothe him. “Yuta, it was two years ago.”

“I’m not going to ask again.”

You sighed through your nose. The man responsible was already rotting in prison, for life most likely. You were satisfied. “Some guy named Levi Clark,” you told him. “He’s an American. It happened when I got invited to the States on a classified that went open.”

Yuta hummed. The response was nonchalant itself, but you could see the little gears turning in his head the way they always did when he was up to no good. 

“He’s in prison,” you continued, sensing it would be worth including. 

Yuta nodded. “Okay.”

Your brow raised with suspicion. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

Much, much worse, Yuta thought grimly to himself. But rather than have you worry your pretty little head off, he kissed the corner of your lips and lied, “Of course not.”

You didn’t believe him at all, not even for a half second, but you weren’t going to say anything. Especially not when he started to kiss his way down your body from your supple breasts to your inner thighs, making sure to be extra tender when his lips brushed against your scar. 

His lips sank even lower, fingers raveling in your underwear and yanking them below your ankles. They were right between your legs yet still not where you needed them, pressing sweet and slow kisses on your thighs, which was nothing like how you remembered him. Yuta was hard and fast. 

You let him have his way, kissing and biting at your sensitive thighs while knowing the sensation drove you wild, your body visibly exuding arousal. It was enough for him to effortlessly slip his fingers inside, but he didn’t dare, thumbing your nub with his hand solely to watch you writhe and squirm. 

“Yuta,” you called out, voice teetering toward a whimper. “Don’t tease.”

Yuta raised a brow, pretending to be confused. Like he wasn’t deliberately trying to get a rise out of you. “You said I could do whatever I want with you. And I want to watch you get worked up over me.”

“I know, but…,” you trailed. “Please?”

Yuta knew how much you hated begging, so for you to say please meant you didn’t just want him - you needed him like you needed blood in your veins. And it turned him on even crazier. 

He made a spur of the moment decision to get a hold of your hips and pull you onto him, making you sit on his face. You released a shaky noise when he began to suck and lick at your neglected bundle of nerves without warning, his hands gripping your thighs for purchase. 

Yuta ate you out skillfully, pressing all the right buttons. Literally. His tongue was giving your clit ample attention, expertly doing everything he knew to have you moaning loudly and riding his face for more. Your arms were on either side of his head, gripping the sheets for dear life. 

You could hardly breathe. You moaned a breathless, “Fuck,” as he continued to go to town, obviously keen on eating you out until you went limp and couldn’t keep yourself upright. 

Yuta gripped your thighs roughly, scraping them with his nails. He didn’t mind how they were suffocating him at the moment, the sides of your knees pressing into his head every time you tensed and shuddered. Yuta kept going, nose brushing against your clit every now and then. 

“Holy fuck. Shit. Fuck,” you swore, all other previously existing vocabulary exiting on the right. 

Yuta was satisfied by that reaction. You tended to do that when you felt too good - forget everything except him and his uncanny talent for making you unravel. Something about knowing he was more or less the only thing on your mind made his already stiff cock even harder. 

You needed this more right now than ever. You could physically feel the tension escaping your mind and body, unshackling your bones and letting you breathe. Even Yuta could tell you were in dire need of relief and he took it upon himself to make sure you got enough to make your toes curl. 

“Yuta…,” you whimpered, grinding into his mouth like nothing would ever satisfy you. 

Fuck’s sake, you were going to be the death of him. The way you called out Yuta’s name made him want to shove you onto his mattress to fuck the breath of you and then some. He resisted for now. Knowing how rough he could get, he wanted to be certain you were ready to take him. 

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. This was the first time in three years you had experienced sexual contact from another human being and it was safe to say you were touch-starved. Your entire body tremored with the excitement not only of being touched again, but of being flush against Yuta once more. 

Yuta couldn’t lie. Well, he could and he most definitely would try, but he’d missed you too. The romantic aspect of his longing aside, you were a goddess in his eyes and he always worshiped your body the way it deserved. Which, after long hours of being hard at work, you had never not appreciated. 

After having been with Yuta, you knew no one else would ever satisfy you or get you off how he did. You each had been with your fair share of sexual partners, but Yuta was the only one who ever made you see stars and the whole damn moon. When work got especially stressful, you always had urges, but you took care of yourself just fine. 

This was a far cry from just fine. This was mind-numbing pleasure that had you clinging onto his hair and whimpering his name over and over as if it was the only word you knew. As if he was the only thing you knew. 

“Yuta, I’m close,” you told him shakily. 

Yuta could tell, but hearing you say it made him push you off his mouth none too gently and onto the bed as he had wanted. When you whimpered in disapproval, Yuta playfully chided, “Don’t complain.”

Your core throbbed with need, but your eyes flitted between his handsome face and his beautiful v-line, wondering if you should’ve focused on how he licked your arousal from his lips or how hard he had gotten from getting you off as he shuffled out of his pants. 

Both. Both is good, you thought to yourself, licking your own lips. 

Once his clothes were off, Yuta knocked your thighs apart and gripped your jaw with one hand as he steered himself to your entrance with the other, growling, “Look at me.”

You did as told. You would steal a soul in a heartbeat for him if he so bade you. His dark eyes were staring into yours, watching your contorting face as he began to take you. And you watched him, tightening at the way his mouth hung open. 

Yuta noticed your eyes wincing closed as he filled you inch by inch and when he was fully seated inside you, he slackened his grip on your jaw in favor of your hair. “Keep your eyes open,” he told you assertively. “I don’t want you to miss a fucking second.”

You whimpered, but obliged him. Your eyes were tempted to water at the sensation of being stuffed full of his cock again and it didn’t take long for him to stretch you out. 

“Good girl,” Yuta said, smashing his lips against yours. It was the only time you were allowed to close your eyes and you did so immediately, kissing him like it was the last time. 

Yuta started to move, pressing himself in and out of your slick pussy with ease. You were so fucking wet and it was making him lose his mind. Your body took him back with every deep thrust, accepting him, little wet squelches echoing off the bedroom walls as his hips smacked into yours at a quick yet steady pace. 

You were in a different world. With Yuta’s weight dangling on top of you, you couldn’t help but fondly remember all the times you had been here before, all the times you had surrendered your body to him for him to do as he pleased. You were another person with Yuta. Someone free and wild and reckless. 

For a long time, you thought that version of you was dead and buried. But here she was, eating her heart out for him, ready to kill for him if he so asked.

“Oh my fuck,” you moaned almost at the top of your lungs, grabbing Yuta’s shoulders to anchor yourself, as if you were afraid of sinking too far without him. 

Yuta lowered his head to your chest and began to cover every inch of your naked breasts with love marks that eventually would fade a dark color. They stung vaguely, but Yuta knew you were a sucker for pain and he was more than happy to give it to you. 

You didn’t feel human anymore. Rather, you felt like two feral and ravenous animals in a back and forth game of trying to intimidate and tame one another, clinging onto your survival instincts like they were all you had left. You would never back down, but you would never give chase either. You just kept taking turns circling each other in the wild. 

Yuta wanted to deny the hold you still had on him, but the second he felt the way you throbbed and tightened around his cock, he knew he would forever be a slave to his feelings for you. He continued fucking you at this pace, nice and hard, deep and fast. “Fuck,” he groaned. 

You yanked his hair and pulled him onto you, stringing your legs around his hips to keep him close as you kissed him endlessly, never wanting to cease your hold on his body that burned with sweat and insatiable hunger. Kissing it better again. You wanted to be sore when he was done with you, to feel the leftover ache of him in your very bones. 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Yuta grumbled when your lips separated, almost as if he was upset about it. You had enticed him like a siren, lured him to a death he would die a million times for another night with you. 

You weakly shook your head, but grinned at the compliment. “That’s all you,” you whispered, slowly trailing your fingers down his back. 

Yuta could see it in your eyes that you were right there, on the edge he’d dragged you almost over, but not close enough to let you slip. This time he would give it to you. He wanted to make you come on his cock, pulsing with climax. Sex was power to him. He loved being in control of your pleasure, knowing that it was entirely dependent upon him. 

You didn’t even have to tell him you were close. Yuta got a hold of your throat and limited your air flow, craning his head to whisper in your ear, “Come, baby. Come all over my cock.”

It was almost instantaneous. In a matter of seconds you were crash-landing from the atmosphere and slowly grounding yourself back into the hard rough dirt. You suddenly shuddered with orgasm, clasping his hair in your hands and sharply crying out his name. 

Yuta chuckled, knowing that would happen. In a weird way, it was comforting to know that all his old tricks still worked on you, that he still knew your body as if it was his own. “That’s my girl,” he sang with satisfaction. 

You had barely recovered from your climax when Yuta pulled out and flipped you over, then buried himself some inches deep inside you again all within a blink. “Oh my god,” you stammered, tangling your hands in the silk sheets and thick blankets. 

His hips moved quicker than ever, roughly fucking you into the mattress while he chased relief, and you loved every second of it. There would never be a time where you wouldn’t be happy in allowing Yuta to use your body as a means of getting off. 

Yuta smacked your ass and the sound of your soft whimpers made his dick twitch with excitement. He willed himself to pull out of you and finished himself with his hand, a stripe of his cum landing on your back as he groaned deliciously in climax. 

“Stay still,” Yuta said after taking a pause to catch his breath, pulling his pants back up to his hips and meandering towards the bathroom. 

Not that you had any intention of moving as much as an inch. He had literally fucked the will to do anything out of you. You were going to lay right there on his bed where you had fallen limp until further notice. 

Yuta returned with a damp cloth to wipe his release off your back. His shirt was still on the floor and he didn’t seem like he was eager to put it back on. You staggered to the bathroom to clean yourself and the moment you came back you collapsed on the mattress. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered, getting comfortable on the opposite side of the bed. 

Yuta switched off the lamp on his nightstand and did the same, heart still trembling with the afterhighs of what you had done together. Or maybe it was out of affection. “Goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to drift off. You were sated, and it was all the relaxation needed to put you to sleep. 

When you woke up in the morning, admittedly somewhat later than normal, Yuta was no longer perched on your side. Your heart throbbed a little with ache, but you ignored it. This was Yuta Nakamoto, for fuck’s sake. You should have expected less.

You found your shorts and slipped them back on, more or less limping out of his bedroom to the kitchen where you figured Yuta would be hiding. And you were right. There he was with his morning coffee. He looked right at you for half a second, but said nothing.

Fine, asshole. If you won’t, then I will, you huffed to yourself, tenacious. “Good morning,” you said to him, leaning onto the counter. 

“Morning,” Yuta replied quietly. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked. You had trouble believing that was all he had to give after the night you’d shared together. 

“Hm?”

You shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance, but you both knew what you were getting at and you were trying to play your cards accordingly. “I just feel like you’re keeping yourself from me.”

Yuta played dumb. For now. “What makes you say that?” 

You stifled a groan of frustration. His passive aggressive behavior was starting to get on your nerves. You would take direct confrontation over this if it meant he would stop hiding his heart from you. You knew he had something to say to you, which only made this all the more unbearable. 

“You know why,” you replied, snappier. “You’re acting like nothing has happened.”

Yuta sipped from his coffee, barely a single thing off in his composure. “Am I?”

You studied him, looking for a defect in his perfectly crafted demeanor, some hint or clue as to his genuine emotions. You didn’t buy his indifference. “Yes, you are. Is there something you want to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Yuta retorted, continuing this back and forth game. The game of survival. “It meant nothing. You looked like you needed it. I was just lending a helping hand.”

You didn’t want to believe him, because that would mean you were alone in the memories, in the thoughts of what you had together once upon a time, so close to a happy ever after. “You seem to be really into helping me, for whatever reason,” you mumbled, suspicious. 

The doubtful undertones in your voice weren't lost on Yuta. He knew you were trying to figure him out and check him for ulterior motives. “Is that a crime, miss undercover?”

You groaned exasperatedly. “God’s sake, Yuta. Just spit it out. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Yuta lied, rinsing his cup out in the sink and placing it gently into the cabinets before stepping out. 

You exhaled loudly. He had no reason to be this goddamn difficult when he was perfectly capable of speaking about his feelings like a normal human. Like hell you were going to put up with his insufferable bullshit. Did he expect you to be some kind of fucking mind reader? 

Five minutes later, almost the very second you had set your mind on following and confronting him, Yuta whirled back into the kitchen, hissing, “Why didn’t you look for me?”

Your eyes flickered with shock. “What?”

Yuta was too fed up to tolerate you playing dumb. He didn’t raise his voice, but he was firm as ever. “Don’t play dumb. You let me fade away. You never looked. Why?”

The anger disappeared from your body for a second, and guilt swept over in its place. “I thought you were dead.”

Yuta shook his head, unaccepting. “That’s not good enough. Your boss is more than likely dead, but you’re still risking your life to find him.”

You stayed quiet, unsure of yourself. Why didn’t you look? Were you leaping at the opportunity to undo the damage you’d caused by eating the forbidden fruit?

“Did I ever mean anything to you? Anything at all, dear?” Yuta pressed, approaching you like he was trying to intimidate you. To make you fear him. “Or was I a pawn in your perpetual pursuit of justice?”

In any other circumstances, you would have been amused by how poetic he sounded, in spite of how sharp his voice was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. “Yuta, you were never a pawn. You were so much more.”

Yuta grabbed your hair, but he didn’t yank. He simply held it firmly in his hands and tilted your head up to look at him. “Did you use me?”

“We used each other,” you whispered. 

“No, no, no, dear,” Yuta sang almost sweetly. “You did all the using. You got what you wanted from me and left me for dead. That’s the cold hard truth, isn’t it?”

“You know it’s not,” you said, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. 

Yuta snapped, “Then, what is?”

You were rooted in memory, traveling back in time three years. The last dance. The underground fighting gang in Japan you’d hunted like prey and chance met Yuta. The same gang had killed one of his own and he planned on exacting his revenge. In his own way, he had also been undercover.

The case was essentially over and it wouldn’t have been possible without Yuta’s help. After a typical long night of your bodies meeting, you had woken up one day to him gingerly prying himself out of your arms, whispering apologies for waking you and something about how he was going to head over to the fight club. 

You didn’t think it would be the last time you ever saw him. The opposite. You smiled in his burly arms as he veered down and gave you one final kiss of affection, daydreaming of how you would keep your illicit affair a secret from the law and betray your oath. 

The next thing you knew, you were receiving a call about how the entire fight club had burned to a crisp. With a handsome number of people in it. Your heart thundered in your chest and you waited all day for Yuta to return, but when morning came and he still didn’t show, you assumed he never would. 

But duty still called. You successfully carried out an operation that culminated in an ungodly number of convictions. You got your glory and fame. And only after mourning him for months did you slap on a brave face and pretend Yuta never meant anything to you. 

“You want to know the truth?” you asked, fighting tears as your temper rose. You had things to get off your chest too. “The truth is that I mourned a loss that never happened and when I saw you standing there, perfectly fucking fine, I thought I saw a ghost. Now you’re punishing me for grieving you and I can’t take that shit.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t play the victim. We both know that if you wanted to look for me, you would have. You didn’t. Your work is all that ever mattered. It still is.”

That cut deep. Is that really what he thought of you, after all this time? That you only cared about money and power?

You stepped away from him, recoiling. “That hurts, you know.”

“The truth tends to do that sometimes.”

You shook your head in disbelief and laughed hollowly. “Is this seriously all you can bring yourself to say? After I thought you were dead for three years?”

Yuta shot back, “And I thought you didn’t care about me for three years. Who has it worse?”

Running your hand through your hair, you sighed exasperatedly and asked him, “Does it have to be a fucking competition?”

“Yes.”

This was more complicated than any case you had ever solved. It was impossible to wrap your head around in spite of how desperately you longed to make sense of this. “Why are you faulting me for this?” you asked, paralyzing. “You could have come to me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your work,” Yuta said, a hint of something rueful in his voice, but it was gone in a flicker. 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Stop doing this. Stop making it seem like everything you do is for my sake. Like you never had bad intentions.”

Yuta simmered with frustration. Was it genuinely so hard to believe that he cared about you? You were everything he ever wanted and everything he never had.

“Oh, I had intentions,” Yuta replied with a chuckle. “I had intentions of whisking you away and taking you across the world with me. Intentions of showing you off to my friends and doing everything I could to see you smile. But you had me fooled, baby. You manipulated me.”

You shook your head vigorously. “I did not!” 

“You did,” Yuta hissed. “I have to commend you, sweetheart. It’s not often someone tricks me the way you did. You really were something else.”

The tension in the room was becoming too much even for someone as strong as yourself and you crumbled underneath the surface, loudly confessing, “I couldn’t do it!”

Yuta paused, caught off guard. He had been slowly pushing you to the edge, but he wasn’t expecting you to break. “You couldn’t do what?” he asked. 

You inhaled a few deep breaths, knowing you were on the verge of tears and not wanting to sob in front of him. “I couldn’t move into your world and out of mine, over and over. I wanted to, but I knew the guilt would eat me alive. It had to be one or the other. And when you died, or when I thought you did, I mean, I thought the universe had made the choice for me.”

That only made things worse. You had essentially just admitted you were never going to allow yourself to be with him, dead or alive. “Is that why you never looked?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, outstretching your hand to grab his, but he wouldn’t let you.

Yuta bristled. He loved you more than anything, but right now, he hated your guts. “You’re not sorry. You made your choice.”

And you were regretting it more and more by the second, wondering how you could account for lost time. “A choice I don’t resonate with anymore.”

Yuta had no sympathy. “That’s too bad. The damage has already been done. So just double down and bleed me dry like you always have, and we can both move the fuck on.”

The gears were starting to turn in your head, quicker and quicker. “That’s what this is about?” you asked, everything finally starting to click. “You want to see if I’ll take advantage of you?”

Yuta crept closer, running his fingers over your cheek almost with affection. Your body caved instantaneously, but your mind couldn’t fall for it. “I want to see exactly how far you’re willing to go to help your boss. The things you’ll do, the lies you’ll tell. The truths you’ll bury. I want to see you for what you really are.”

You were sick and tired of him acting as if he knew everything and snapped, “What am I then? Please enlighten me.”

“The death of me,” Yuta replied, seconds before closing the tiny gap between your bodies and kissing you. No matter how greatly he despised you, the weight of his desire would always overpower. 

Your lips moved in fearless sync as you kissed each other breathless, as if you were in a competition to see who would suck the life out of the other first. But until one of you died, you traced your hands along any bare skin you could set your fingers on and held onto each other’s bodies, keeping yourselves close.  

At least when you were like this, the odds evened out. You made Yuta insane with your body and he made you arch into his hot touches. You breathed a little less when he touched you and he died a little more when you pushed him to his high’s end. Then you brought him back to life and took his soul all over again. There was no losing or winning here. Only life or death. 

Without warning, Yuta gripped your hips and hoisted you onto the counter. You gasped, clasping his shoulders. He stole your shorts from underneath you and yanked them down your ankles, tossing them into the deep end, and stuck a hand between your legs to feel your arousal growing around his fingers, a deep, guttural sound springing from the back of his throat when he felt how wet you were from his kisses.

“Yuta,” you called out, running your hands down his chest from his shoulders. “Fuck me.”

“No.” 

You gawked. The next thing you knew, he had one hand around your throat and the other pressing a knife against it. “You don’t get to be the boss of me anymore. You lost that privilege. You don’t get to control me,” he said, cold as stone. “You don’t get to act like I’m yours.”

The knife flush against your neck did nothing to unnerve you. None of your survival instincts were on edge. Your muscles weren’t tense. Your breath was mostly level. You asked coyly, “Aren’t you?”

Yuta clenched his jaw. You were right and he knew it. He was completely and thoroughly owned by you - mind, body, and soul. And heart. No matter what lengths he went to deny it, you were his salvation. In beautiful life and in sweet death. 

“No. You have to earn it,” he told you, quiet but fierce. 

For the time being, you played submissive. You already knew he was eating from the palm of your hand, all yours. There was nothing left to secure, but you wanted to appease him. “How can I earn it?”

Yuta stamped the knife harder against your throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still and pliant. “When you said you loved me, did you mean it?”

You thought back to all those little memories, swimming around in the deep end of your mind. There weren’t many times you’d whispered the three word confession into his ears, but that made it all the more special. You remembered all of them. Walking through those secluded streets of your dropsite, hand in hand. Shielding your face in his chest as he fucked you within an inch of your life. Waking up in his arms the morning after. 

When you had sex last night, it took everything in you not to say you loved him. Your heart broke itself with the effort. “Yes. I would draw blood for you.” 

That still wasn’t enough. Yuta knew you could be ruthless if pushed. He wanted to know where your love for him started and ended. And truth be told, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted it to overflow. “Would you die for me?” he pressed.

You exhaled, “In a heartbeat.”

That was the right answer. Yuta briefly forewent the knife and slackened his grip on your throat, unfastening his pants just enough to take out his stiffening cock. You gripped it in your hands and pumped him fully hard in no time at all. With a painfully hard cock, needy and aching for you, Yuta gently brushed your hands away and slowly coaxed himself inside. 

You gripped the bottom edge of the counter when he was finally rooted inside to the hilt. Yuta began to move and when he found a comfortable, hard pace, his hand leapt for his knife again, dragging it against your skin. 

Yuta had ample opportunity to hurt you, time after countless time. Yet he never had any more than you’d asked for. You could be staring death squarely in the eye and not an inch of you would paralyze with fear as long as Yuta was there to hold you tight.

You liked to pretend you were fearless, but Yuta made you feel like you really were. I can do anything as long as I have him. He’s my strength and my empire. The whole world doesn’t stand a chance against us. And we’ll burn it to ashes for trying. 

“I…,” Yuta started, his breath distant and faint. “Would die a million deaths for you.”

These kinds of confessions stopped startling you a long time ago. Yuta was intense and deep, and passionate. When he loved, he loved till the last minute. “I would bring you back every time,” you told him, shuddering. 

“What if you couldn’t?”

“Then I’ll follow you to hell close behind,” you whispered, clasping onto his forearms. You wanted to hold him until kingdom come, and you had every intention of doing so. 

Yuta was conflicted. The result of you tearing his heart in more than two pieces. Part of him wanted to resent you forever, to tell you to fuck off and stop toying with his imperfect feelings. Another was ready to stain the walls in blood, not yours, if it came to keeping you close. And the other accepted that you were the only woman in the world who could manipulate him, but chose not to. 

It wasn’t just the sex that made him weak, but it sure did help. You were tightening around him like a noose, taking his cock like a champ as you had done countless times in the past, and Yuta wanted to reward you for it in any way you wished. If you asked for the universe, he could pull a few strings. 

“You’re mine,” Yuta said possessively, teasing the knife down every available inch of your bare flesh. He was wholeheartedly obsessed with you and he would continue to be for as long as he breathed. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“You’re mine,” you taunted in between soft moans, attempting to hide the flutter of your heart. “And I’m yours.”

Yuta was burning alive with his own passion, scalding from the inside out. “Fuck,” he grunted, tossing the knife into the sink. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I know,” you whispered. 

“You own me.”

“I know that too.”

“You wanna know what you don’t know?” Yuta asked through pants, but he wasn’t stopping. Not until you were both surely sated. “Not a second went by where I didn’t think of you. Of what you were doing and who you belonged to.”

Well, I know now, you thought to yourself, but the admission drove you mad. You couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts kept him up at night in your wake. Did he picture your face whenever he got hard? Did he pretend he was inside you when he fucked his fist until he came?

“I’ve always belonged to you,” you told him sincerely. You wanted to kiss him again, but you held back for now. 

Another groan sprung from the pit of his throat and he put a tightening grip on your throat. “Say it again.”

Your legs wrapped around him, wanting him more in spite of the lack of blood flow. Wanting him deeper. “I belong to you. And only you, Yuta,” you rasped. 

The way you said his name had him reeling. With how you reacted to every graze of his fingers, light or rough, Yuta knew there was a throbbing void in you being filled at last now that he was in your possession once more. It was the same dark and empty void in him. “I hate you,” he hissed, slapping his hips into you harder. “For making me love you when you never cared about me.”

You had been taken aback by his words, but eased a little with relief when he finished his statement. Only a little. “That’s a lie.”

“Admit it. Admit you never cared,” Yuta barked. His grip on your throat was harsher and he had another calloused hand winding your hair around his fingers.  

You couldn’t say that. It wasn’t true. “I was wrong,” you choked out instead, face tensing in a heavenly blend of pain and pleasure. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Yuta.”

Yuta all but stilled when he heard you say those words. Finally a fucking apology. And now he was going to make you beg. Or better yet, he was going to see if you meant it. 

You gasped loudly when Yuta abruptly pulled out of you and hauled you off the counter into his burly arms, carrying you to the living room. You clung to him tightly the entire time, although you knew Yuta would never let you fall. He sat you on the couch, sitting beside you to your right, and pulled you onto him. “Prove it.”

Yuta watched you grip his cock and steer him to your entrance without hesitation. Like it was routine. You made a high-pitched noise when he penetrated you again and clawed at his chest and shoulders for purchase, prepared to give him every ounce of your strength and vigor. 

You watched his face contorting with ecstasy, not minding the way your nails dug into him. Yuta had always been the bigger pain freak. Your legs still ached with the passion of him and they would even more when you were finished with him, but you didn’t care. You rode him to hell and back. 

“Fuck. Holy fuck,” Yuta swore, watching you bounce on top of him with a vengeance. He should have known that when he told you to prove it, you would take that as a challenge. He cursed your name between expletives. “Slow down.”

You smiled contentedly, proud of yourself for ruining him to the bare bone. This was a man that prided himself on power and control, so snatching it from underneath him surely gave you an ego boost. “You wimping out on me, babe?”

Yuta mumbled something under his breath. More dirty words, certainly. He wanted to fight it, yet he couldn’t help but surrender. “No.”

“Then, take it,” you hissed, grabbing his jaw gently and stealing his lips in a hot kiss. Yuta’s fingers bruised your hips as your lips met with a reverberating wet sound.  

Yuta looked dizzy from lust and pleasure, and passion when you pulled away from his lips in favor of his neck, sucking and nipping at the raw empty flesh. His breath went faint as you left your mark. He was moaning like a bitch underneath you, overwhelmed by your mouth on his skin and his cock in your warmth. 

It was taking a toll on him, making him shake and bite his swollen, bleeding lip. “Stop. I’m gonna come, baby,” he said breathlessly. 

“Come inside me,” you told him softly, riding him even harder. You wanted to finish him. 

Yuta’s throat went dry at your words and he couldn’t stop the indescribably erotic noise that escaped him. He had fucked you raw more than once, but he had never been allowed to fuck you full of his cum. Now you were handing him the privilege on a silver platter and he was about to come on the spot like a virgin.

Your hips smacked down against him, brutal and quick. Yuta couldn’t help but thrust up into you, matching your movements with the intention of finishing you and himself. You were bruising and breaking beneath his rough hands, but it didn’t matter. He would seam you back together. 

It quickly became more than he could handle and Yuta came with a groan of your name plus an additional slew of curses, his body writhing from the hot sensations. His eyes went wide when you kept riding him at this rough and hard pace, chasing your own climax. 

You hummed, satisfied. That’s it, baby. You might not want to say it to my face, but your body has never lied. You are just as owned by me as I am by you. You are bound to me by a ball and chain. 

Not far behind him, you shuddered with orgasm from the constant pounding of his cock against your sweet spot driving you over the edge. Yuta could feel you throbbing and pulsing around him and it drew him another deep noise from him. You went slack, draping your arms over his shoulders, and felt his cum leak from your cunt. 

You weren’t in any hurry to move. Yuta was as close as humanly possible, every inch of himself buried inside your pussy, and you wanted to keep him there indefinitely. You tilted his jaw, watching his cute face. “Are you tired?” you asked softly. 

Yuta scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe you were asking him that. Though you knew he always had more to give you. “We just fucked for an hour.”

“What are you talking about? We spent most of the past hour arguing.”

“That was foreplay.”

You burst into laughter. That was a very Yuta-esque answer. “For you, maybe,” you murmured. 

Yuta arched his brow. “Oh, really now? Then please explain why you were so wet by the time I’d only kissed you. Riddle me that, beautiful.”

“There’s a simple explanation,” you said, in spite of knowing you had none. None too inclined to admit it to him, you opted to kiss him again instead, still holding onto his jaw the entire time. 

Yuta let you get away with it just this once, hands roaming your back underneath your shirt. It was still damp with sweat and the thought of licking away every last drop with his tongue made Yuta stifle a groan. Most likely for the best. The sound would have made you clamp around him if you heard it. 

And you would’ve fucked him all day long if you could, but duty called and though the state of your relationship with Yuta was mending, you still had other problems to solve. 

After a makeout session that lasted way longer than intended, you both begrudgingly retreated to your separate rooms. You had work to do, and Yuta needed time to think about what you meant to him. 

You were surprised to receive a call from the station a few hours later, recognizing the number though it was unsaved. Figuring it was probably about the names Yuta had given you, you answered the phone. “Hello?”

“I’ve got news,” came Ten’s voice. You knew from his grim tone that it was nothing good. 

You sighed. “The bad kind, I’m assuming.”

“We identified a body today on the side of the highway. It’s Kun.”

You were silent for a long moment. No words would come. You weren’t surprised he was dead, but the fact that you couldn’t deny it anymore stung. 

Ten knew you were hurting, but he continued, “He was mostly bones. He’s been dead for months. And before you ask how we know it’s him, he died in uniform. His badge says his name.”

“Any idea what the cause of death is?” you forced yourself to ask. 

“Forensics are running tests right now, but we’re pretty confident it was a gunshot wound,” Ten told you softly. “He had a single one to the head. He didn’t suffer.”

“How nice of them,” you replied, but your voice was armed with pained sarcasm. It didn’t make sense. Why kill a man and release his body three months after the fact? 

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I have something else to tell you,” Ten said, quiet as a mouse. 

You swallowed your darkness and listened. No matter what, it was paramount that you found the bastard who did this. And, if given the chance, ripped their head off. “Yes?”

Ten’s voice was soft, as if he was telling you a secret of some foul nature. “There was a witness description that matched one of the guys I saw you ran through the database last night. But he’s been locked up for a couple of days. There’s no way it’s him.”

You hummed in confusion. “That’s suspicious as hell. Who gave the witness description?”

“Some random truck driver,” Ten replied, obviously none too convinced. “We’ve tried interviewing him about it, but he insists that’s who he saw and that he’s not being bought or coerced in any way into giving false statements.”

You didn’t buy it. Not even for one second. It was literally impossible for someone who was currently in custody to have dropped off a body on the side of the highway. And if he had a solid alibi, there was clearly someplace else you needed to look. “He’s lying like hell. And he’s likely being intimidated. The question is, who has that kind of power?”

Ten took a wild guess. “A gang.”

You glanced in the direction of Yuta’s bedroom, as if you were trying to signal him through the wall. You had believed him when he said that the Reapers didn’t kill cops, but a situation like this required the influence akin to the kind a gang would have. “That’s true, but I think we can rule out the Reapers.”

“You have an informant?” You could hear the confusion in Ten’s voice. 

I have something much better, you said solely to yourself. “Something like that, yes. I think we’re looking in the wrong place. Or maybe there’s a part of the picture we’re missing.”

Ten hummed, clearly deep in thought. “What about the Brotherhood?”

“What about them?”

“I know these two gangs have conflicts about their drug territories and the like. Kun was investigating the Reapers’ involvement in a few drug deals gone south, but we know now that it was the Brotherhood’s mark.”

That was a valid point. The instance was one of many crimes Kun had been looking into, but it could have been his unlucky ticket to death. He had investigated crimes involving the Reapers and promptly went missing, which turned you to the same gang. Though as it turned out, it was the Brotherhood’s responsibility. 

What if this whole time, you had been looking into the wrong criminal empire?

“That… changes a lot of things,” you replied, connecting the dots in your head. 

“I have to go, but remember it’s just a hunch. Don’t get unmotivated. Keep looking,” Ten said encouragingly. “Someone will check in with you tomorrow as usual.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you murmured. 

Before you could hang up, Ten called out your name one last time and added, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you reassured him, not wanting him to worry too hard. You knew the loss of one prominent member of your team put additional stress upon the safety of the others. And with that, you bid each other goodbye. 

Yuta had a few errands to run the next day and as protocol decreed, you had to tag along with him. Nothing too dramatic. You imagined that with the gang’s current focus being on determining the next course of action to take against their rival, Yuta was more useful here rather than going from country to country eliminating threats.

His job was much like yours in that regard. Your former one, at least. You bounced from place to place, no one location being too safe, taking on new identities in foreign cities. In the middle of almost losing sense of who you were, all in exchange for recognition and praise, Yuta had been the one to sweep you off your feet and help you remember. 

That was why it hurt so much when he was gone. You lost him, and you lost yourself. He had reminded you how beautiful love was, how liberating it was to not think of the aftermath of missions. With every heartless criminal you locked away, another piece of your soul chipped away too. 

Yuta had made you realize that you weren’t broken. You were still whole and you still had a soul. And you knew, because you had bore it to him. 

You snapped out of your memories when you heard the car door click open and quickly close beside you. Yuta handed you a dark sheath, made of leather. “This is for you,” he said quietly. “If you still use them, that is.”

“I still use them,” you told him with a nod, unsuccessfully ignoring the way your chest flooded with warmth. He remembered. 

“Good,” Yuta said, fastening his seat belt around his waist. “And by the way, we’re not going home like I thought we were. I just got a call. We’re having an impromptu meeting.”

You stifled a groan, none too eager to sit around outside while the higher-ups had private discussions behind a glass door. But you said nothing as Yuta pulled out of the parking lot. 

Though as you followed him through the building to the designated door on the far end of the hallway, you complained, “I just don’t understand what you guys are talking about that you didn’t get done in the past two meetings this week.”

“This is important. And besides, I don’t make the rules, baby,” Yuta replied, totally amused but hiding it with a poker face. “He does.”

The man in question was already patiently sitting at the head of the table with a poker face that could kill if he tried hard enough. Lee Taeyong, you recognized. The leader. 

His second-in-command was right beside him and with Yuta being third, he didn’t hesitate to snag a seat directly across from Johnny. The only thing that surprised you was Yuta dragging you inside, seating you squarely beside him in a chair of your own. 

It wasn’t long until the room filled with enough high-ranks to make anyone nervous and after doing a mental headcount, you quickly realized all eight of them had come.

Taeyong seemed to be doing the same count and once he counted an adequate number of heads, excluding yours, he spoke up loudly. “Yuta, was it necessary to bring her?”

“Yes,” Yuta chirped without explanation. 

“Alright, then,” Taeyong said swiftly, commanding total attention with the tone of his voice alone. “Now that we’re all here, firstly I wanted to apologize for calling last minute. I realize you are all busy with your respective responsibilities. But in light of recent events, I want to extend our incognito another week.”

Haechan nodded in approval. He was the head of their prostitution business. “Good idea. The ladies are scared shitless. They don’t wanna work and I’ll raise hell if anything happens to them.”

“This is slowing down our income,” Doyoung chimed in, disgruntled. Likely thing for the guy in charge of money laundering to say. “We can’t make money if we’re all hiding. We need to fight fire with fire.”

“We've been trading hits back and forth. What more do you want?” Johnny asked. 

Doyoung shrugged. “We need to do something that will make them realize we’re not to be fucked with. Right now, they think they have the upper hand.”

Yuta shook his head. “No, they don’t. This all started because of drugs. It’s common knowledge that we own the market around here. If they weren’t intimidated, they wouldn’t have made any moves.”

“Then what do you suggest, Nakamoto?”

“I agree that we need to blow all their heads clean off,” Yuta replied like it was the most normal response ever. “But for the right reasons.”

Jaemin was the hacker and he didn’t exactly understand why he was here. Or why they were arguing. “I don’t really think it matters what the reason is. We need to stop them willingly or by force.”

Yangyang groaned. He was the one directly over the gang’s entire drug trafficking operation and you could imagine he was none too pleased. “Our drug operation is our most lucrative branch and they’re not touching that. We’re fine.”

Haechan insisted, “My ladies still need to work. And I’m not letting them until it’s safe for them to do so.”

Doyoung half-agreed, “The ladies need to work so we can make as much money as possible. This incognito is only hindering us.”

“My guys are dying,” Jaehyun announced. “If we lift the incognito, imagine how many more of us will be dead.”

Taeyong exhaled a sigh, rubbing his temple. You resisted a laugh. They were stressing each other out when every last one of their problems could be solved if the Brotherhood was removed from the picture. 

Noticing his boss’ exhaustion, Johnny changed the topic. “The incognito aside, we’re still not fine. I’ve been hearing that the police chief who was investigating us and disappeared before we could pay him off was found dead. Now it looks like we’ve got cop blood on our hands.”

Yuta deadpanned, “Exactly what we needed.”

You tried not to stiffen as Johnny mentioned your boss. Then you thought deeply about his words and reflected on the phone call you had with your co-worker last night, and your blood went cold. You mentally chastised yourself for not thinking of it before. 

Yuta raised his brow at you when he felt you attempting to subtly capture his attention. You mouthed, “Outside.”

You stood up abruptly and he excused himself, following behind you.

 When you were both on the opposite side of the door, you asked, “What exactly happens when you collectively sign off on decisions?”

Yuta was taken aback by your question, but gave an honest response. “The eight of us gather around, much like right now, and try to make a unanimous vote.”

“I’m assuming that doesn’t happen often?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yuta replied, tempted to chuckle. “What’s this all about, baby?”

Now completely certain they had nothing to do with it, you took a deep breath, revealing, “I don’t know why it’s just now hitting me, but I think you’re being framed.”

Yuta didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure?”

You slowly wound a hand through your hair. “I don’t know, but all the evidence points to this gang. Not just the fact that you were the last thing my boss investigated before he died. As it turns out, one of the cases he was looking into was the Brotherhood’s work. When he was found dead yesterday, we got a witness description identical to one of the guys you gave me.”

Yuta furrowed his brow. “You’ve lost me.”

“Yuta, that guy has been in jail for three days now.”

You watched the shock color his face in real time. “Who in the hell gave the witness description?”

“It was a truck driver,” you told him, remembering the conversation you had over the phone. “He was obviously lying and my co-worker and I think he’s either being paid or pressured. But we thought about who would have that kind of sway over someone.”

“A fucking gang,” Yuta finished for you, bristling with frustration. His hand was on his head, attempting to think this over. 

You felt guilty somehow. Like you should have known this was coming. 

The second Yuta turned to the door, prepared to come armed with news that would surely anger his co-workers to no end, you both heard gunshots echo out from downstairs. Instinctively, Yuta pulled you into his arms without a care, glancing around. “What the hell?”

You shuddered, words suddenly resounding in your memory, and chided yourself for being too stupid to not comprehend them until it was too late. Everybody knows the best time to strike is when they’re all together.

They were all together. 

“They’re coming,” you whispered.

“Do you have the knife I gave you?” Yuta asked, borderline frantic. You had never seen him so worried. 

You nodded wordlessly. 

“Thank god. We gotta go,” Yuta replied swiftly, not wasting a breath to get a hold of your arm and lead you down the hallway. You heard his co-workers barreling out the conference room from behind. 

You let Yuta steer you away, trusting him wholeheartedly. He knew this building better than you did, and better than his opponents did. That was his advantage. 

Moving door through door with you in his arms, Yuta clasped onto your body like the thought of letting you go would send a shiver down his spine, gentle enough to cause you no pain yet firm enough to keep you exactly where he wanted. You both remembered what happened the last time you were separated. 

The thought made you shudder. Second turning into minutes, minutes turning into hours as you’d waited for him to come back. For a goddamn phone call. Something. Anything that would indicate he was still alive. 

Like he could sense your prevailing thoughts, Yuta stopped you, glancing both ways like a child crossing the street, and whispered, “Listen to me, baby. I’m right here. Okay?”

“I know,” you replied, quiet as a mouse. Your natural instincts were flaring up and your whole body was tempted to paralyze with fear, but none for you. Only for him. 

“We’re going to make it out of here. I know we will.”

You believed him, but for safe measure, you grabbed his face in your palms and pressed your lips against his feverishly. Yuta kissed you back without restraint, his hold on your smaller frame tightening more with every passing moment. It felt like seconds until it was over and though you wanted more, you knew you had to settle. 

When he heard a noise emerging from a none too distant hall, Yuta reached for your hand and continued to drag you towards the closest exit he knew. You did your best to keep up with his hurried steps, almost tripping over your own legs every step of the way. 

Even more gunshots echoed against the walls, too close for comfort, and rather than potentially rush into something dangerous, Yuta caged you behind him as you hid on the opposite side of the closest available corner. You were able to cock your head just long enough to see a figure dressed in all black, their head cloaked in a beastlike mask. 

Brothers. 

There were masculine wails and screams everywhere. You recognized the sound of death and chaos when it touched your ears, and it made you cling to Yuta harder. The only thing you didn’t know was whether or not it was the blood of his gang members or his rivals staining the walls. 

“They’ve got this bitch surrounded,” Yuta murmured irritably under his breath.

That wasn’t reassuring at all. “Then what’s the plan? If we can’t leave, then what are we gonna do?”

You could see a flicker of something dark flicker in Yuta’s eyes, followed by something like resignation, and you knew what it meant instantly. “We have to fight.”

Fight didn’t startle you. Your hand immediately went for its weapon. Flight was officially off the table. 

This was a full-blown war. 

Yuta poked his head around the corner. When the coast was clear, he took you down another corridor, a touch darker than the others. You recognized the hallway and knew you were close to the rear side of the building. 

You didn’t see it. Not until it was too late. And by the time you heard it, there was already a brawny pair of arms wound viciously around Yuta’s neck, yanking him back with force. He dropped his weapon, reaching up behind him out of instinct, and endeavored to pry his attacker’s bloody, calloused hands off. 

“Yuta!” you called out. You didn’t hesitate to go after him, but another person snuck up behind you and put your wrists in a vice-like grip behind your back, dragging you off into another room as you desperately tried to writhe out their arms. 

The last thing you heard was Yuta shouting for you before the door slammed closed in your face. 

Your body tensed with the anger of a heartbroken woman at being separated once more from your lover, who you knew would move mountains to see you again - or die trying. And you would never, ever let that happen. 

In the split second of freedom you had while the faceless enemy locked the door, you snatched the blade Yuta had given you from its sheath and sprung into action, landing an unexpected attack in the back of his head. Over and over.

You were just about to drag the man’s fallen body out of the way enough that you could sidestep towards the door when you heard another one open from behind you. You jolted for your weapon, spinning on your heels. 

A person came out. This one had a face. And you recognized him. 

Jeno raised his hands in innocence. “It’s just me.”

“Get. The fuck. Back,” you hissed, holding your blade to announce that you were armed and very much dangerous. 

Realizing you didn’t trust him, Jeno switched on a dime. “You finally figured it out, huh? How clever of you.”

You knew Jeno wasn’t who you thought he was the second you finally pieced together the true meaning of his words. “Who are you?” you forced yourself to ask. 

Jeno shrugged, smirking to himself as if something was funny. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a brother.”

“I know that, but where do you fall in their hierarchy? Who do you take orders from?”

Jeno scoffed, his evil little smirk widening in unwavering amusement. “Take orders?” he repeated, incredulous. “Babe, I’m the one who calls the shoots.”

You stilled for all but a second. You were staring into the eyes of a gang leader who was conniving enough to infiltrate the ranks of his rival. There was no way in hell he was easily backing down from a challenge. 

The glaringly obvious shock on your face made him laugh out loud. “That’s right. I’m the leader. You look surprised.” 

You sneered, “You son of a bitch.”

If not anything else, Jeno looked proud of himself. He was so damn smug. “Don’t play innocent, beautiful. You’re not exactly a saint either. I doubt Taeyong knows there’s a cop mingling in his affairs, and his trusted third-in-command is just allowing it to happen under his nose.”

How in the hell did he know you were undercover? You had to assume everything he knew about you right now was equally as dangerous and lethal as his potential. 

Your eyes narrowed. Your body was twitching with unadulterated anger and twitching to do something deadly. “Did you kill Kun?”

“Nah. Well, I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, I mean.”

That didn’t make it any better. He was the one calling the shots, after all. He said so himself. “But you consented to his abduction and murder. Why?”

Jeno played with the edge of a blade of his own. He sounded thoroughly bored as explained, “He was getting too close for comfort. Looking for the Reapers was inadvertently bringing him closer to us, and we couldn’t just give him a two for one combo. It was nothing personal, you know.”

You shook your head. Then you slammed on brakes. “How do you know about Yuta and I?”

His mocking tone wasn’t lost on you as he teased, “I think you’ve lost your touch, spy. My guys wanted to take you out, you know. They were certain you were a threat and you would figure us out.”

So he not only knew that you were affiliated with the police force, but the covert agency too. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeno snorted. “Surely you remember Yokohama. I’m realizing it’s very easy to pin things on other gangs. You swept in to investigate their activities and lover boy came along to figure out who was killing off his buyers.”

This was unforgivable. The entire time Jeno had this much dirt on you and your personal life and discreetly used you to expand his illegal crime syndicate at the expense of another, and another. And you had no idea. 

“You recycle all of the same shit,” you pointed out, seething inside out. 

“Maybe,” Jeno replied carelessly. “But you know what they say. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

You shook your head. “So that day the three of us were together. It was all fake. You killed your own men?”

“They served their purpose,” Jeno said darkly, lifting his blade. “And you’ve served yours.” 

Your entire body stiffened with alarm when you heard someone attempt to push open the door closest to you. Stepping inside after kicking away the corpse of the man you’d fatally stabbed, Jaemin came in armed with a gun. And you were to assume it was fully loaded. 

This shocked you less than Jeno’s betrayal did, if you could even call it that. He wasn’t some guy you’d trusted. He was some guy you’d underestimated. “Of course you’re involved too,” you murmured, positioning the sharp blade in front of yourself. 

“Of course,” Jaemin repeated with a sly little laugh. “Who do you think cleans up his mess?”

Jeno didn’t bother to roll his eyes as you would usually expect from him, going with it. “And I’ve made a big one.”

You knew what that meant. They wanted to exterminate you like some troublesome little pest in their happy home. 

As if to confirm your suspicions, Jaemin smiled menacingly and crooned, “You have to go, sweetheart. You know too much now.”

Your heart was racing. Even you seemed to accept that you were overwhelmed and outnumbered. You knew that with one wrong move Jaemin wouldn’t hesitate to empty his chamber into your head, but for once, you had no idea how to get out of this. You just knew that you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

Yuta entered your mind again and wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t hear his voice anymore, but you hadn’t heard any more gunshots either. Rather than resign yourself to defeat, you were going to assume he was still alive until proven otherwise. 

“Wait!” you shouted when you saw Jaemin cock his gun, obviously ready to paint the walls with your brains. “Where’s Yuta?”

Jaemin shrugged his shoulders. His smile was ominous. “Your little boy toy? No clue. He’s probably bleeding out somewhere, princess. I think he might be dead.”

“Not yet.” 

The three of your heads snapped in the same direction when you heard that familiar voice. Relief flooded your veins when you saw Yuta standing in the entrance of the door, having snuck up unheard. 

Before Jaemin could even get the opportunity to fire his weapon, Yuta raised and cocked his own, and a loud clap rang out in the air just before you watched Jaemin fly backwards from the impact of the piercing hole in his gut. 

And to your surprise, Yuta didn’t immediately kill him. He had his reasons. Rather than stick around to give a message, Yuta hurriedly reached for your arm and tugged you out the door. You could see in Jeno’s dark eyes when you took one final glance at him that he wanted to give chase, but saving a life was more important. 

You used all your strength and speed to keep up with Yuta’s steps, his fingers intertwined with yours as you paced wordlessly through the seemingly endless corridor. The two of you ran and ran until you had descended at least two more floors, wanting to ensure there was a safe gap between you and your enemies. 

Like hell Yuta was going to let you get shot a second time. 

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Yuta said frantically when you were in the clear, running his hands over your cheeks. “Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”

You shook your head. “No, they didn’t lay a finger on me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine as long as you are,” Yuta told you, relief washing over his face. You had lost each other once and neither of you were keen on suffering that hell ever again. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your heart speeding quicker than you knew it ever could. This was nothing like that first time you thought you lost him. Fear struck you tenfold. “I told you I would die for you.”

“If you ever risk your life for me, I’ll die right after you,” Yuta told you, more grave and serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re not leaving me. Ever.”

And you didn’t leave him. As soon as two weeks later, you were in a hotel in Osaka after dark, tangled in silk sheets after a long night of making love to each other. Yuta made it abundantly clear that he wanted to make up for lost time, and you both mutually agreed there was no better way than doing all of the things you’d always wanted to do together. 

He wanted to whisk you away on romantic trips and show you to all his favorite places in his hometown, and you were slowly making your way down the lengthy list. You wanted an oasis away from the dark reality of the world, to lose yourself in a world that only consisted of you and the man you loved. 

You missed nights in Japan. The country never slept. Neither did your heart and your feelings for Yuta.

Ironically, he was fast asleep when you received a call from a familiar number. 

“I know I’m not supposed to contact you anymore,” Mark started without greeting. 

You snickered, wondering where this was going. You were still under the sheets right beside Yuta, knowing he would immediately stir if you even attempted to sneak out of the comfortable bed. “And yet you’re calling me anyways.”

“I have a good reason,” Mark replied reassuringly. “So you know how you got shot?”

“I think I may remember getting shot in the stomach, yes. I'm not too sure.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you imagined Mark was playfully rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, that guy who shot you - Levi Clark - he disappeared from prison.”

You gawked, but tried to keep your voice to a murmur. “What?”

“Yeah. And he was found dead two hours later. Like, really dead. I saw the photos. It’s ugly.”

You glanced at the man sleeping beside you with extreme suspicion, but told Mark levelly, “Thanks for informing me.”

Mark sounded chipper. “No problem. And if you ever need anything, I’ve got you.”

You broke into a wide smile at those words. Though you knew it would only do everyone involved no good to continue contacting your former co-workers. “Take care of yourself, Mark,” you whispered softly. 

“You too,” were Mark’s last words before he hung up, letting you resume your new life. 

You placed your phone down and crossed your arms, knowing something was very off in this picture. “Yuta?” you called out. 

“Hm?”

So he wasn’t asleep. You crossed your arms tighter. You suspected as much. “I know what you did.”

Yuta’s voice was groggy. “Which thing did I do?”

“You know the one.”

A small sliver of a smile tugged at his lips. “You would die for me. I would kill for you. We’re even, dear.”

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a few kisses to Yuta’s devilishly handsome face, not mad about it. His hands snaked around your waist and you sighed contentedly. “I guess we are.”

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hey, neighbor

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f)Reader

Summary: Jason has no choice but to investigate the cute grad student in the apartment below his.

Tags: some blood & gore (for the plot), mystery, eventual smut, pwp, incorrect science (im so sorry to women in S.T.EM.), morally ambiguous Jason Todd, neighbors, nerdy reader, smoking, forced proximity

Chapter 2 - One of your experiments inadvertently gets someone killed. You have no choice but to go into hiding. Good thing the red hood has a safe house!

Jason tailed you and your friends on your nighttime walk to the club.

He stealthily smashed the window to the back room, sneaking by staff as they carried crates of alcohol and hid in the shadows above the dancefloor where you were.

You had quite a bit to drink. It showed that when the music hit, as you began freely to move to the beat.

Some people enjoyed the music. Others actually felt it, allowing themselves to let go. You were one of those, Jason noted as he watched you close your eyes (which was a dumb decision, you were so lucky he was there to protect you) and swayed your hips whichever way the melody carried you, moving your arms in elegant waves around your body. When you knew a song, your performance would get more passionate as you'd mouthed the words.

Several times, some creep brushed your waist, and someone even grabbed you by the hand and pulled you towards them. Jason reached for his knife, ready to slice the asshole's fingers clean off, but thankfully, you woke up, just as one of your friends shoved the guy who touched you, and the rest formed a tight circle around you. He'd noticed that was a ritual you girls would often do to save each other from creeps.

Deciding he could leave you to your circle for a bit, he took some time to go out of the club, check the area, and, you know, patrol until he got a ping in his earpiece and Oracle spoke, "Your girl’s leaving the club."

Jason, having just shot a guy, he caught palming himself outside of a schoolyard soccer game, let out a dark chuckle. "Are you tracking her?" He was turning in the direction of the club.

"Aren't you?"

“Touche,”

He'd thrown a small chip into your purse when you shoved past him earlier that evening. So long as he still saw a green dot flashing on the corner of his lens, he wasn't worried.

He found your group walking out of the club, shadowing from the rooftops, unnoticed by the girls enjoying their evening out.

As you all turned into a dimly lit alley, Jason's instincts went on high alert. The urge to grab you and drag you out of the obviously sketchy area was stronger than hed expected.

Someone emerged from the shadows, leering at the girls and making vulgar remarks about their dresses.

You and your friends exchanged nervous glances, your laughter fading into unease. One of the three men who'd surrounded you reached for your bag, you pulled it back, actually managing to land a punch into his face, which made him grasp at your bag harder, the contents of it spilling out.

Jason had seen enough. Dropping silently from the rooftop, he landed in front of the thugs with an intimidating presence. His combat boots barely made a sound as he approached them with practiced silence.

"Gentlemen," he drawled, "You've wandered into the wrong alley."

The thugs turned their attention to the intimidating, masked figure, who warfed them all, and worse had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

"Shit, it's him!" One of them shook the other, whose mouth had nearly dropped to the floor. The third thug reached for his gun.

Jason moved swiftly, incapacitating them one by one. The fight, if you couod call it that, was quick and embarrasingly one-sided, a testament to his years of training and their obvious lack thereof.

You and your friends watched in awe as the last thug crumpled to the ground.

The masked figure turned to you and asked, “Are you alright?”

You blinked at him, wide-eyed with the wonder of a child in a museum. “You’re the Red Hood!”

He nodded.

You wiped your hands on your dress before reaching out to offer a hand shake, stammering, “It’s uh… it’s- I mean - You’re my hero!"

You gave yourself a mental facepalm. Speaking of your face, you were certain that by the heat you were feeling, it was probably red. Great, you were off to a great start with him. You dreamt about meeting him ever since that night, and you finally got your wish, but you had the conversation going differently in your head. Your friends beside you stared at him.

He found your star nervous mutterings rather amusing. Wondering how you'd react if you only knew that the man in the Red Hood was none other than your next-door neighbor.

He indulged your delusion, his gloved hand completely covering yours as he shook it firmly. You looked back at your palm when he drew back, vowing to never wash it again.

As you recovered from the commotion, you caught something out of the corner of your eye that made your heart race. You felt a sharp sting on your side and realised that a vial you had carried had broken inside your purse and spilled onto the ground. Confusion clouded your mind. You were certain that you left the vial in your fridge in the hazard container...

Panic surged through your veins as you shouted. "Everyone, get back!" You rushed to tear off your sleeve.

Your friends were confused, unwilling to leave your side. One of them reached out to you, and you jerked away, tears welling up in your eyes. "No! Nicky i’m serious! Get away from me!"

One of the criminals, emboldened by the chaos, grabbed your discarded purse off the ground and pulled out the vial. He taunted, "This? Honey?"

Your eyes widened. "Put that down! Im not kidding! This is dangerous!" You went to reach for him, but the Red Hood was there in a second, holding your back.

The thug cackled, turning to his men. "I told you guys, these rich kids always got good stuff! What is it? Heroine? Shrooms? Something new?"

"No!" You shook your head. "God, please listen to me. It's - "

Ignoring you, he swiped his tongue across the vial.

You struggled against the Red Hood to try to get to him, which was futile. He held you steadily, hard muscle a wall against your limbs. He lowered his head, his mask brushing your cheek when he asked. "What's in the vial?"

His closeness sent you spiraling in confusion and heat. You swallowed nervously, opening your mouth to answer, but at the same time, you wanted to pay attention to the thug.

He clicked his tongue, waiting for the effects to kick in. All of a sudden, he began to choke and scream in agony. Vines burst forth from his body, twisting and turning in grotesque contortions until he resembled a nightmarish hybrid between a human and a tree.

You screamed as you watched the substance you had worked endless hours researching tear a man apart from the inside.

The sight sent chills down everyone's spines, and the thug’s buddies fled in terror. Jason pulled you behind himself, shielding you from the scene as he aimed his guns at the... thing, prepared for a fight. Eventually, it stopped sprouting until it was the size of a small tree. His gaze fixed on the horrific transformation. The screen in his helmet ran an analysis on the scene, bringing up overwhelming results.

The transformed man lay lifeless on the ground, a grotesque showcase of the power contained within the vial. Tears gathered in your eyes as you realised the consequences of your inadvertent actions.

The vigilante turned to the others, growling, "Leave,"

Your friends turned to you while you couldn't rip your eyes away from the scene. You swallowed down bile and gave them a faint nod. They walked off, leaving you alone with the red hood.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason tapped his comms device. "I need backup and containment on my location," he relayed the address.

Nightwing's voice crackled through the intercom. "On my way."

Jason fixed his eyes on the grotesque tree-like figure that was all that remained of the man who had fallen victim to the vial's contents.

You, paralyzed by fear, had not moved since the horrifying transformation had occurred.

Just as he was about to break the silence, your voice trembled. "I can't be here when the cops show up,"

Jason’s tone was stern. "This is exactly where you should be. You're a witness. You need to give a statement. Most importantly, you know what was in that vial."

Desperation filled your eyes as you begged, "You don't understand! The vial, it's part of a project at my university. If I'm found with it... oh no, and my professor... she'll…."

Jason inquired, "What kind of project?"

You hesitated, your gaze locked onto the tree-like creature before you. you knew you had to trust him, even if he was the intimidating vigilante you had heard about.

"It's a genetic experiment," you admitted. "The vial contains a modified plant DNA with regenerative properties. We were studying its potential for recovery after wildfires. If- if it could be contained."

Jason frowned, piecing together the puzzle. "So, your professor was involved in this? Is she the one who gave you the vial?"

You nodded, then shook your head, your voice trembling. "No, I- it's my formula. I only started running tests this week... I didn't know..." You looked over your shoulder at the horror before shuddering and turning back to face him again. "You have to believe me. I didn't know!"

"I believe you." His tone sounded genuine, but you still didn't feel the relief you should have.

You flinched at the sound of sirens in the distance. "... are you gonna take me in?"

"I dont know." He admited after a long pause.

You looked at your discarded purse. "I could have sworn I left it in my fridge." You said to yourself. "And even if I haven't, why would I take it to the club?"

Jason noticed something off. "Why aren't you moving?"

You carefully lifted your arm to reveal a cut above a small, bleeding wound. "When the vial broke, that guy cut me."

Jason froze, taking a step away from you. "Why is what happened to him not happening to you?"

You shook your head. "My guess is it has something to do with the way he ingested it. But im not sure."

His mind raced as he considered his options. He couldn't let you become a plant-like creature, but at the same time, he needed information to understand the extent of the danger posed by these vials.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"y/n."

"I can help you, y/n, but only if you promise to give me answers. Tell me everything you know about these vials and the experiments."

You nodded fervently,your fear mixed with relief. "Okay, I can do that."

Jason carefully approached her, holding out a small device. "This is a freeze tool. It will keep everything in place, but we need to act fast. You might get frostbite. You may need medical help. I don't know. Once I use it, there's no turning back."

You took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Do it."

With precision, Jason used the freeze tool on the wound, encasing the cut and preventing any further damage. You gasped, twisting in agony as you tried your hardest not to flinch. When he finished, you relaxed slightly, as much as the ice would let her.

“Do you know how to handle this?” He nodded towards the wound.

You nodded, “I need a kit. We've got one in the research center.”

A figure jumped from the roof, making you squeal when he landed perfectly on the ground. Jason turned to see his brother in his patrol armour.

Your mouth gaped. “You're Nightwing, aren't you?"

“The one and only” Dick gave his signature flashing grin. “Well how can I help you tonight, miss…?”

You registered to kate that he was addressing youm “Uhm, Y/n-”

“You can help by staying here and assisting the cops while they quarantine the area." Jason cut in. "Im taking her to get her wound treated. You didn't see her.”

“... okay." Dick muttered, his voice raising in question. "Quarantine?”

Jason pointed his gun at the dead man tree thing.

Dick followed his direction, eyes focusing on the corpse. “Jesus... I thought it was a tree.” He approached it, assessing the impact. “Ivy?”

Jason took you by the hand. “No."

Dick turned to him. "Who else then?"

You swallowed nervously, turning to the Red Hood and expecting to be given up, but his response surprised you.

"That’s for us to find out," he said, steering you towards his bike.

As the Red Hood seated you on his bike, placing a helmet on your head, he turned to Nightwing. "Tell Gordon that Batman is taking over this case."

"Says who?" Nightwing returned.

"Me." Was all he said before getting on the bike in front of you.

As you two rode off, you couldn't help with your confusion, and you whispered the question in a panicked tone. "Why didn't you tell him it was me and not Ivy?"

He didn't respond as he sped away from the scene.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason stood in the dimly lit laboratory, his eyes fixed on you as you slowly and carefully sterilized your wound of the vial liquid, careful not to let it intro your bloodstream.

The silence made you anxious. You felt like you were the one under inspection. You spoke up, your voice quivering, "I didn't know that the nectar was so dangerous… We were just studying its regenerative properties." You weren't sure why you sounded so defensive. He hasn't even said anything.

"Regenerative properties of what?" His voice cut into your thoughts.

You looked uneasy under his scrutiny. "My thesis was to research a potential solution for ecological restoration. To be used to help regrow trees after woldfires." You were babbling.

"Yes, you've mentioned that,"

You blushed. "I know, sorry."

"Who patroned this research?"

"Our department head. Elizabeth Langstrom." You supplied. “She's brilliant... ever since I was a kid, I read every paper she's written." You sniffled, thinking you turned out to be a criminal instead of someone whose research helped others.

Jason itched the name you said into memory to look into later. A movement behind the door caught his attention, and a second later, a woman in her early forties entered the room.

The woman's eyes widened when they landed on you. "Y/n, what are you doing here so late?"

You jumped when you heard your voice, eyes searching the room for Jason, though he'd hidden pretty well behind a nearby book case, using the darkness the blend in with the corner.

It was for the best. The professor, he assumed that's who the woman was, would find it less suspicious to see her chemistry-loving student working in the lab at three am, than to see said student working in said lab at said time while talking to the fucking Red Hood. He'd trusted you to lie your way out of this one on your own.

You hid your wondered wrist behind your back and cleared your throat. "Doctor Harrison! I just needed to test out a new theory... I couldn't sleep until I did it. You know how I get."

Good girl. Jason nodded behind the bookcase, knowing you'd catch the movement.

"That I do." Your Professor smiled fondly. "I understand your enthusiasm, hun but it's three in the morning. The research can wait until tomorrow,"

You nodded, begininv to clean up. "You're right. I'll just clean up and go on home."

"Good," Harrison smiled. "I'll leave you to it."

She headed out the door, leaving you alone with him again.

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After the tense confrontation in the lab, Jason told you to meet him a block away from the center entrance. He went out the window himself in case you'd run into Harrison in the halls on your way out.

When you two met up again, he handed you a helmet and motioned towards his motorcycle.

"Get on," he instructed, his voice low and commanding.

You complied, straddling the bike behind him and securing the helmet in place. He sped through the city streets.

Being so close to the Red Hood was a bittersweet experience. On one hand, his presence made you feel safe. On the other, you knew his usual M.O. with bad guys. And after tonight's events, you definitely felt like a bad guy.

He winded the streets through alleys and passageways until finally reaching what looked like a loft. He helped you down from the bike, placing his hand on your back to guide you towards a single door at the back of the the building. He tapped in a long code into the keypad near the door, and the two of you entered the safe house.

The space was tidy with minimal and simplistic furniture and a large window overlooking the lit up block at night.

You were still processing that these were the Red Hood's living quarters. As you entered the kitchen, your nerves got the best of you, and you blurted out, "You know, if it weren't for the circumstances, this would be a dream come true."

He didn't respond, but you could almost sense a hint of amusement in his posture. He pulled out a mug from the pantry, filling it with water and handing it to you. You accepted, sipping much needed water eagerly.

"You need to stay under the radar for the next couple of days while the investigation goes on." Jason nodded curtly, giving you his phone. "Type in your address. I'll bring you your stuff tomorrow. You should keep your distance from thebresearch center and from your professor too. I dont trust her."

You nodded jerkily to whatever he said, your heart still racing from the adrenaline of the night's events. "Believe me, I don't wanna touch another beaker ever again..."

He stayed quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Don't say that."

An image flashed in his mind. He recalled the way your eyes lit up when you were explaining the work to the neighborhood kids.

"Clearly, you love what you do." He went on. "Don't let someone else's mistake ruin it."

You shook your head, tearing up once more. "What about someone's death."

His gloved hand took your chin and lifted your face to his. "Dont you dare blame yourself." He nearly growled. "You've given him ample warning, and he ignored you. He willingly drank the contents of the vial. He killed himself."

You swallowed back your tears, nodding up at him, partly out of persuasion, partly out of fear.

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You had finally fallen asleep, exhausted from the evening's traumatic events.

Jason left you in his oversized t-shirt, tucked into his couch, and locked the safehouse as he got back onto his bike. His night far from over.

After a quick exchange with Barbara, which resulted in his requested coordinates, he dropped by Harrisons’ apartment to take a look. The woman was clean, unmarried, and with no children.

As he went through Harrison’s research notes on her desk, Jason discovered her calendar, filled with meetings involving yourself, Elismzabeth Islington, and the vials. Jason scanned the calendar with his lens, along with a few notes he'd found interesting. He walked around looking for more.

His mind ran with the following: Harris saw you tonight. He didn't know who she was instructed to notify about your whereabouts. He had no idea who she was loyal to. That made her a liability.

He weighed his options. Killing Harrison would be both cruel and counterintuitive. It would cast further suspicion on you, the last person to have seen her alive. That left out murder. Jason seldom took such mercy, already disliking the circumstances.

He decided he'd leave it to good old-fashioned blackmail. He set out to find whatever dirt he needed to guarantee Harris’s silence and your safety.

[sunderwight]

Thinking about the weird camaraderie that exists between demons but not angels in GO.

Have we ever seen two angels who are actually friends? Or even friendly to one another? We have met angels with a capacity to be friendly in general, but I think the closest we've come to two angels actually getting along would be Gabriel making a point to laugh at Sandalphon's terrible "can't have a war without War" line in S1.

Most scenes between the angels actually seem to have an undercurrent of absolute hostility. Teeth-clenched teamwork. No wonder it took them so long to notice that Aziraphale wasn't on the same page as the rest of them! The rest of them are barely on the same page as one another, either! When Gabriel goes against the majority vote, no one bats an eye at demoting him and wiping his memory. Michael and Uriel immediately begin vying for his job. The only times we've seen angels team up is when they're working together to bully someone else, like when they're trying to intimidate Aziraphale in S1 or going to the aftermath of the bookshop raid in S2.

Saraqael's overall neutrality towards Muriel is the closest we get to two angels in Heaven getting along, and it's more a lack of hostility than any kind of friendliness. At least until Gabriel loses his memories and Muriel shows up to spy on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale decides to be kind to both of them.

Demons, on the other hand, actually seem to form alliances and even friendships among one another. Hastur and Ligur are awful, but Hastur seems genuinely distraught over Ligur's death, not just fearful of suffering the same fate. Shax and Furfur conspire together and even though the 1940's investigation into Crowley's fraternizing doesn't work out for Furfur, it's not due to any double-crossing on Shax's part. Unlike the angels, who stick almost exclusively to making threats until the Metatron decides to try dangling a carrot at the end of the season, demons actually offer rewards to other demons when trying to work together. Beelzebub offers Crowley a promotion if he can bring them Gabriel, Furfur offers to back Shax up politically if she goes for the Duke position opening, and Crowley successfully stalls Hastur in S1 by pretending everything was a test and he's going to be put in charge of a legion as a reward for passing. They're still not great at socializing, but they're significantly ahead of the angels.

Of course, it's a fact that demons are awful to one another (Eric's treatment is really bad, they throw that random demon into holy water just to test it, "it'd be a funny world if demons went around trusting one another", etc) but they still seem more capable of forming friendships than the angels do.

I think that's because Hell cramps and crowds everyone together to try and increase their suffering and hostility, whereas Heaven isolates angels to decrease the odds of questioning or rebellion. Hell's methods are unpleasant, but it still ends up putting demons together, and some of those demons inevitably forge alliances and make friendships. Because as Crowley and Beelzebub demonstrate, demons are still social creatures with the capacity for love and affection, even if it's strongly discouraged and buried under nine million layers of trauma and a cultural mandate against kindness.

Angels are the same, but isolation makes is harder to form connections than overcrowding. Muriel and Jimbriel are both so eager to make friends, but Muriel's spent the past millennia shut in an empty office, and Gabriel has been distanced from his peers both through his position and also through Heaven's culture of fear and surveillance. He only breaks away from it when he finds something that's stronger than "choosing sides" (stronger than the fear of being rejected by Heaven and Falling, in fact strong enough that Falling seems worth it if he gets to be with someone he loves). Both Muriel and Gabriel are only able to start forming connections when they're away from Heaven.

I just think it's interesting that demons, despite being supposedly devoid of love, have an advantage in forming relationships compared to angels. Angels are supposed to love, but have far fewer opportunities to actually do so. Demons aren't supposed to love, but they make connections anyway.

[ailithnight]

*Whoops. Forgot to title and link previous chapters. Fight me, I just woke up.

A King in Arkham

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

"Tim. Tim you have to get me copies of this footage." Tim is not surprised by the request. In fact, the 'Sure' is already on his tongue when he pauses, a thought creeping into his head, seeded by the notification Tim really hopes Jason isn't paying attention to in the bottom corner of the computer.

"One condition."

"Fuck you, I knew you'd want something. What? You want my cookies? Coffee? For Red Hood to go on camera singing praises for Red Robin? I'll fuckin do it. Just send me the god damn clips."

"Nope, nope, and tempting, but no."

"Name your price, Replacement. I'll pay it."

"Swear you aren't going to go rush in and extract the kid until we're done investigating him."

"What!? Fuck that! I told you was pulling him out next chance I get!" Tim lets himself groan in annoyance.

"Look, anyone that could do that-" Tim gestures to the part of the screen where they'd pulled up The Joker's medical reports following the incidents, showing pictures and descriptions of just how thoroughly Daniel had beat his ass 3 weeks in a row, "without getting so much as a scratch or fucking bruise in return, has got something going on. There may well be a reason they sent him to Arkham!"

Jason's eyes narrow at Tim as he all but growls, "No reason is good enough to put-"

"A fifteen year old in Arkham. I fucking know that, Hood. But we still need to know exactly who we're dealing with when we get him out. What his deal is. If his dangerous. What the hell was so wrong with him that someone thought it was a good idea to stick him in there to begin with."

"He could get hurt while we're sitting on our asses trying to satisfy fuckin Bat paranoia!"

"He took down the Joker! Clearly he can take care of himself."

"Then who has been hurting him!?"

"Maybe him fucking self!" Tim knew he was pushing it. The green growing stronger in Jason's eyes was proof. But he needed to buy them some time before Jason made thing exponentially harder by storming the castle. Still, now he needed to calm Jason down before he went into a full rage. So Tim held up his hands placatingly.

"A few days, Jay. Just give us a few more days. I'm already almost through the Arkham reports, and there are only a handful from Chicago and Oracle is probably going to announce any minute now that she got through the communications blackout around his home town. We just need a bit more time to sort out intel so that we actually know how to help him once we get him out."

Finally, after a tense 34 seconds, green fades back into blue and Jason let's out a heavy sigh.

"Fine. But I get to tell the Bat about Daniel's discipline slips. Wanna see his fuckin face when I do."

"Deal." Tim hurriedly puts a comm in as Jason watches with narrowed eyes.

Batman.

Red Robin. Ready to fill me in?

Not yet, you're about to be busy. I isolated a pattern earlier. Exactly 15 minutes before the locks malfunction, there's been a strange power surge. Always written off. But the surge doesn't seem to be coming from the grid. And like I said, exactly 15 minutes later is when the locks malfunction.

Jason huffs as he catches on. Apparently he hadn't thought to question why Tim was so desperate to buy time before.

Robin responds, since he's on stakeout with Bruce. Mostly because Bruce won't let him watch the asylum alone. Much as the kid hates it, the rest of the family agrees. It's only a matter of time before someone in max security manages to take advantage of theses malfunctions. So far Croc is the only one who had, though thankfully he's not one to start shit on his own. But with Joker, Scarecrow, and TwoFace all inside; any one of them, or god forbid all three, could make for a real bad situation.

Tt. So you can tell before a malfunction happens.

Think so. Last power surge was 8 minutes ago.

And you are only telling us now, why Drake?

Codenames.

Cause he spent those 8 convincing me not to go get our kid out yet.

6 minutes. See if you can stop things before they start.

I'm not far out. Want me to join you?

Tt. I doubt we'll need your assistance, Signal. We shall be done before you get here.

No wait. Signal, head in. See if you can get a read on 26B.

You think he might be meta?

Hood?

Jason glares at Tim betrayed.

"I wanted to see his fuckin face."

Tim just waves him off.

"They need to know. You tell them or I do."

Boys

Jason scowls, but relents.

He put the Joker in the infirmary on his 1st, 7th, and 15th days there. All 3 times took no damage himself. Feral child had to be pulled off and still didn't stop struggling till the clown was out of sight.

All 3 assaults followed by panic attacks, though whether about the Joker himself or what Daniel had done to him, we don't know yet.

The comms were silent for a moment.

A 15 year old...

Did what you've never had the balls to old man.

...I've fought the Joker.

Daniel hits first.

Hnn

I will admit, it is impressive that he can take the Joker down alone. Perhaps he will make for a worthy brother after all.

4 minutes.

We're moving in. Thank you Red Robin, Hood.

The fuck are you thanking me for?

For helping. And giving us time to work this out.

ETA 7 minutes out. Be with you shortly.

.

The advanced warning proved invaluable for Batman and Robin. After alerting the chief of security of their supposed pattern, he had guards already in motion when the doors swung open. Batman took a perch to watch for max security escapees while Robin assisted the guards in keeping inmates corralled. Many didn't even bother to leave their designated areas, having already seen the Bats in the building.

No sign of any max security inmates. Normally, Batman would find this concerning. And while he did file it away to ponder later why no one from max security ever seemed to make it out of that wing, for today he counted the blessing that he would not have to try to keep Robin safe while dealing with someone like the Joker.

Batman tracked motion through the crowds, watching as a black mop of hair moved, seemingly otherwise unnoticed, through the sea of people. He thought to move in to direct the person back towards where people were being herded to, but the small figure merely walked towards the B wing and entered one of the far cells. That gave Bruce a sneaking suspicion of which patient that was. He moved to get a closer look as Signal swooped in.

"Where is he?"

"I believe he just went into his cell. This way." Batman led Signal to the cell he'd seen that tiny person enter. It was indeed 26B and there was indeed a small, too small, frail looking boy lying on the bed there. A red blotch had appeared under his left eye even though Bruce was certain there had been no injury there as the boy had crossed the hall.

Signal froze beside him, breath stuttering. The boy briefly glanced at them through the corner of his eye, mouth twitching into a brief frown. Then his eyes turned back to the ceiling and his face smoothed out. Bruce couldn't help but reach out.

"Hello." The boy said nothing. Signal opened and closed his mouth, seeming to try to say something, but unable to get words out. Batman wondered what he must be seeing. "You seem hurt. Do you need help?" Eyes flickered back to him and away just as quickly.

"Nothing you can help with Mr. Batman." And oh, how Bruce hated the kid's voice. So quiet and so so hollow. Bruce's mind flashed to his children, imagining any them speaking with such emptiness. His heart clenched, wondering what could have happened to this boy to have snuffed the life out of him so young.

Duke found his voice again, just as the doors buzzed and swung shut again.

"What are you?" Bruce frowned, looking at his latest. Who was looking, as Bruce tracked his gaze, not at Daniel but at the space just above him. Daniel himself seemed to take interest all of a sudden, breaking away his upward gaze to roll his head and look at them. Confusion plain on his face, the first hint of life shining dimly in his eyes.

"Signal? Signal, what do you see?" Batman asked. Robin materialized beside them. The daytime hero stepped forward, then back, light sparking and fizzling around his fingertips.

"There's something in there with him."

Daniel looked back up, where Signal still had his gazed trained on something Batman couldn't see. Even Robin seemed confused, though he no doubt trusted Signal's meta sight.

"Don't worry," Daniel murmured, "S'just a ghost. She can't hurt you."

This 'ghost' seemed unhappy either with the teen's words or this turn of events. Daniel's head snapped back to the side again, causing Batman and Signal to wince while Robin watched stoically. 4 red scratches appeared on Daniel's right cheek, as though he had been backhanded by someone with clawlike nails. A light chill brushed through him and Signal tensed, then relaxed, his gaze finally turning from the emptiness above Daniel to the boy himself. Batman took that as a sign that the... entity, was gone.

Daniel did not react to the obvious abuse from an invisible assailant. He mechanically turned his head back, once more dead and glazed eyes returning to the cracks in the ceiling of his cell. "You should go now. The guards will come around soon to make sure I'm still here."

Bruce wanted so badly to say 'Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.' But Batman was more restrained than that. He would get the child out. But he would have a plan first. For now, Bruce placed a hand each on the shoulders of Duke and Damien, guiding them away. Only when they were back outside did Bruce let them go. Only when they were perched on a rooftop half a block away did Batman pause.

"Robin, report."

"No escaped inmates and no sign of any from maximum security."

"Good. Signal, any information on what you saw in there." Duke rubbed at his eyes.

"A ghost, I guess? I don't know. It was weird. She didn't really have an aura. It was more like, an absence of aura. Like she was a black hole, drawing all the light in."

Even behind the domino, Bruce could tell Damien rolled his eyes.

"And what of the patient, Thomas? Was he not the one you were sent to look at?" Batman bit back the reprimand for codenames, more interested in Signal's response. Signal seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head.

"He definitely had a pretty distinct aura. It... felt powerful. But it looked weak. Dim. When the ghost... struck him, it flared up a bit, but died back down almost instantly. I... I get the feeling he was holding it back. Almost like he was afraid of it. Of himself."

"Hnn. Good job Signal. Robin. You two are welcome to head back to the cave. I'll take the rest of this Arkham shift."

At that moment, the comms crackled to life.

Actually B, you may want to come in, also. Arkham should be fine. And I found why they sent the kid there.

[links-in-time]

Whumptober : Wild Visions - Chapter 1

I wasn't going to write anything specific for whumptober. But then this idea came to me and I thought, why not give myself a goal for this month?!

Content warnings for this fic: Manipulation, betrayal, injury detail (not in this chapter) emotional and physical hurt.

Overview: Dark tricks Wild into helping him get to Hyrule in order to resurrect Ganon. Not caring that Wild is going to relive some painful memories along the way.

🍁💚🍁💚🍁💚🍁💚🍁💚🍁💚🍁💚🍁💚

Wild shuddered despite the warmth of the campfire and the blanket pulled tight around his shoulders. The lowlands around the Hebra mountains were significantly warmer than the snow capped peaks, but the night air seemed to have borrowed some of their chill. He rubbed his hands together before stuffing them under his armpits.

A quick look at the sky told him dawn would soon be upon them and he could wake his brothers. Letting his gaze wander over their sleeping forms settled his heart. Nothing made him happier than when they were all together in moments of peace like this. Even when they awoke and the chaos of morning rituals began, their boisterous behaviour always made him happy.

Somewhere behind him, Wild heard a crow squawking. His head snapped around in an instant. It was still far too early for the dawn chorus to begin. Still, a single crow calling in the early hours wasn't that unusual. Yet, Wild felt the need to investigate.

Shedding his blanket and pushing to his feet, Wild moved silently over to Twilight. The rancher lay on his side, pelt pulled up to his ears.

“Hey, Twi,” Wild whispered, giving his brother a firm nudge.

Twilight groaned as he began to stir, though his eyes remained firmly shut.

“I'm just gonna go check something out in the woods. I'll be right back,” Wild muttered.

Without waiting for Twilight to respond, Wild hurried off into the trees, a pale streak of blue among the slowly dissipating shadows.

Morning light grew steadily stronger, filtering through the canopy above. As Wild walked, he could see little disturbance in the forest undergrowth. There were deer tracks and the tell tale signs of wild boar where they had been snuffling for roots. Other than that, he couldn't see what could have startled the crow.

Continuing to meander through the trees, Wild began to notice something else. Tuning out the sound of his own breathing and heartbeat, he listened to the wilderness around him. A brief gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead. The trees creaked as they swayed imperceptibly. He focused harder.

The sound of lightly shifting feet on hard dirt came from up ahead. It was so subtle that Wild was sure I wouldn't have heard it if he had brought the others.

Cautiously, he lifted his bow from his back and nocked an arrow to the string. Staying low and using the trees for cover as much as possible, Wild moved towards the sound. His steps were silent, months of experience gained from hunting kept him away from fallen twigs and dried leaves. Someone would have to look directly at him in order to see him coming at all.

Unless of course, they were expecting him.

“Ha ha ha!”

The ghostly laugh echoed around a small glade lined with large branching oak trees. The hairs on the back of Wild's neck rose, as did his bow. Turning in a small circle he waited for the flutter of crimson paper, or the spark of a magic circle to give his enemy away.

Another shrill laugh sounded behind him and he spun on the spot. A skinny Yiga footsoldier squatted in one of the trees, duplex bow raised and ready to fire. He shot off three arrows to Wild's one. The Yiga missed, and so did Wild. But only because the Yiga coward vanished before his arrow could meet its mark.

Wild hissed in frustration. He took a step backwards, breaking one of the Yiga arrows on the ground. It snapped neatly in two, drawing Wild's attention momentarily. But he continued to stare as he noticed something strange about the grass beneath his feet. Lines had been drawn upon the ground. Runes and circles similar to the ones which appeared when the Yiga teleported. Wild bent to investigate and poked one of the lines with a finger. The paint was still wet, meaning they had only drawn it very recently.

Wild took an experimental sniff of the substance on his finger, but recoiled instantly. The smell triggered a memory. It was the same acrid, vile scent of the black blooded monsters. The smell often lingered after the beasts had been dispatched and their bodies turned to ash. Did that mean that the Yiga had drawn this circle with black monster blood?

Panic flared through Wild's heart.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, turning to run back the way he had come.

This is a trap! His mind screamed at him.

When he turned however, he found his path blocked by two bladesmiths. However, they held no weapons, instead carrying strange pinkish plants cradled in their arms. Wild recognised them immediately. He'd thrown plenty of the muddle buds at his enemies in the past.

He was about to turn and try to escape in another direction, when something soft hit him in the side of the head. Wild coughed and sputtered as the air around his head was suddenly filled with spores. He tried to cover his mouth and nose but it was already too late. He could feel the sticky spores clinging to his throat as he breathed in.

The blademasters advanced, forcing Wild to stumble back into the circle. This time, as he crossed the outer edge, the lines began to glow a bright and vibrant red. Wild tried to lift his bow and shoot at the two soldiers advancing on him, but his arms were trembling and his aim went wide.

Another cloud of dusky pink spores exploded into Wild's vision as the Yiga threw their muddle buds at his feet. In the haze, Wild stumbled over his own feet and landed on his back in the middle of the circle. Choking and struggling to breathe, Wild sensed the tingle of dark magic all around him. The sections of the runes which touched his body seemed to burn like fire. He wanted to get up, to run and get reinforcements, but his body refused to comply.

Wild could already feel his mind slipping from his control. He began to forget where he was and what he had been doing before he got there. Wherever there was. Had he been with someone? He knew he was in danger, but for some reason he wasn't scared anymore. In fact, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be scared of anyway.

Which is why when a pale gray face with burning red eyes waltzed into Wild's field of vision, he smiled stupidly to see another Hylian face. Dark loomed over his prize and great delight. His eyes flaring brightly amid his shadowed features.

“Right now the muddle bud pollen is doing its work, re-writing your thoughts and confusing your emotions. Normally, the effects are only temporary. However, with the Yiga’s rune magic, along with a few improvements of my own, I can make the effects a little more… permanent.”

Dark grinned down at his captive, spread helpless upon the forest floor. Moving slowly around the circle, Dark squatted above Wild's head and looked down into his dazed eyes.

“As unpleasant as this feels for you now, I promise you it will only get worse.”

Dark paused and grinned, now he had a captive audience, who was going to stop him from monologuing?

“This spell binds you to me. When I give you the order I have planned, you will follow it as though your life depends on it. And make no mistake, hero, it very much does. If you fail to bring me what I want, or someone convinces you to do otherwise, you will drink this vial of poison.”

Dark waved a small bottle of amber liquid in front of Wild's face, before slipping it into Wild's pouch. Wild could feel his consciousness slipping away. Though from the spell or the pollen closing off his airways, he wasn't sure. Above him, Dark's voice cut through what was left of his awareness.

“You will bring me the Hero of Hyrule. You will protect him at all costs and bring him to Hyrule Castle. - She is your only purpose, remember, Champion? Princess Zelda is the reason for your existence. You must protect her and return her safely to Hyrule Castle. Her life depends on it. Do you understand?”

As Dark spoke, his voice changed until it resembled the rumbling tones of King Rhoam.

Wild used what coherency he had left to offer a single nod of reply, before darkness claimed him and he was aware no more.

Part 2 >

[merlinfromberlin]

Lost to a Sea of Guilt and Sorrow

The longer Ratchet is missing after the "Synth-En accident", the harder it gets for Bee to reign in his anxieties.

Warnings: mentions of Tyger Pax; Chronology: S01E22 - Stronger, Faster Wordcount: 1,103 words

Written for @angstober - Day 23: Safe/Unsafe Prompt list can be found here: X

Story below the cut or on AO3.

Bumblebee was staring up at the monitors where Ratchet's life signal should have been displayed, where his likeness should have been displayed just below Optimus but above the rest of the team. He had, intermittently, been staring up at the empty space ever since the medic's picture had vanished earlier, shortly after he had stormed out of the Autobot base to do Primus alone knew what. Bee hoped, desperately, prayed really, that the medic had only gone to drive away his emotions, but the longer he stayed away, the less likely that option appeared.

In the background, somewhere to his left, the rest of the team was conversing quietly, but he was too agitated to focus on their words. Their voices had blended into the background noise of a military base, no longer carrying any meaning discernible to him as his whole being had honed in on the unknown status of his carer.

Bumblebee looked up at the monitors again. Ratchet's signal was still gone. He prodded carefully at their sparkbond, but got no response. The medic had blocked it off earlier in the morning, as the team had set out to investigate an energon signal, and never opened the connection up again afterwards. Still, Bee did his best to make himself heard, tried to imprint his desperate, selfish plea for the medic's safe return onto the older bot's spark. He still got no answer. 

His memory banks kept replaying his short interaction with Ratchet earlier, zooming in ever more closely on the agonisingly familiar expression that had crossed the medic's faceplate right before he had run off. Ratchet had been seething when he returned to base after he had accompanied Optimus, Arcee and Bulkhead to assault a Decepticon mine ("It was only a minor dispute between conjunxes," the Prime had answered Bee's question later. "You do not need to worry about it, little one." Although the use of the nickname alone, in front of the humans at that, had alerted Bee that his carer was more shaken by the interaction than he was likely to ever admit).

When his gaze found Bumblebee, however, the medic's countenance had transformed immediately. All the anger had drained from his features as he studied the smaller bot. For a moment, guilt took command of Ratchet's faceplates, drowning the medic in the shame of his past failure. The expression was gone again within a nanocycle, replaced by a grim determination that bolstered the mech's movements as he stormed off, but it had been enough for Bee to recognise it anways. He had, after all, grown intimately familiar with it in the aftermath of Tyger Pax. To this cycle, the medic wore it way too often when he thought the scout unaware of his attentions.

Wherever Ratchet was right now, though, Bee just hoped, wished, prayed that he had not run to try and confront Megatron. Although his optimism and belief in the medic's better judgement dwindled further and further with every millicycle that passed without contact to his carer.

Bee did not need him to try and enact revenge upon Megatron. He did not need the medic to be warrior, a vigilante or an action hero. He just needed Ratchet to be safe and, preferably, to come home soon.

Again, Bumblebee reached out over their bond to be met with distant detachment. Desperately, he clawed and scratched at the barrier between them, but as he had not been the one to erect it, he was now rendered incapable of tearing it down. He shuddered slightly as he finally gave up and allowed his battered consciousness to slump back into his physical frame, a low whine building in his vocoder. Hastily, he shut it down with an unmistakable, raspy click. Even if the sound would still give him away to any Cybertronian, it would at least keep the human children ignorant of his distress for a little longer.

On the other side of the room, Optimus turned his helm slightly towards Bumblebee before gentle tendrils of the Prime's EM field brushed against his charge's protoform, nuzzling the small bot before weaving the edges of their fields together tightly—a steady, comforting embrace in a sea of unbearable uncertainty. He quivered minutely as he offlined his visual feed momentarily, allowing himself to drift in the Prime's warm hope and gentle resilience for a few microcycle before sending back a wave of gratitude. Bee shifted just a little bit closer to the tall bot, basking shyly in the mild aura promising to be his shield from what might be for just a little while longer. 

If not for the humans' presence, he would have long since huddled up close to the Prime to be soothed by the soft rumble of his mighty engine. Without the comfort of physical contact or closeness, however, this spiritual, emotional embrace was a good substitute.

Doorwings flicking anxiously, Bumblebee checked the monitors again. Ratchet's signal was still gone. Bee could not imagine what he would do if the medic actually turned out to be in danger. He prayed to Primus, the Thirteen and every other figure from Cybertron's mythic past he could recall, begged of them really, that he would not have to find out. After a moment, just for good measure, Bee added Santa Claus to his list of prayers. Jack had once explained to the Autobots that he was considered a friend and helper of all human sparklings—he hoped that Santa Claus' good will extended to Cybertronian younglings, too.

Ratchet had to return safely, he just had to.

When Bumblebee's gaze returned to the monitors the next time, Ratchet's signal had blipped back into existence.

[Ratchet! Where are you? Please, please say that you're okay.] 

Beehad opened his private commline with the medic without putting conscious thought into the action. Distantly, he was aware of Arcee talking, but his processor registered nothing but the static that once again answered his plea.

"Bumblebee." Startled from his reverie, Bee looked up as Optimus called his name.

::Hm?:: The Prime's unspoken request confused him for but a nanocycle until he remembered what they had discussed earlier. He was to stay behind and man the groundbridge while the others went to retrieve Ratchet. Bee rushed to open the groundbridge as fast as he could. The sooner they left, the sooner they would return, he hoped. ::Oh. Yeah- Go get him!::

Optimus answered the plea that had accompanied Bee's vocalisation over their sparkbond with a wave of grim determination. The message was clear. The Prime would do anything to bring their medic home safe.

"Autobots, roll out!"

[theamityelf]

The first murderer in the Mini THH AU isn't Teruteru, for a few reasons.

First of all, I think Makoto would successfully convince Nagito not to instigate. He doesn't know that's what he's convincing him of, because he thinks they're having a regular, if slightly weird and intense, conversation about how things are going to go in this killing game.

Makoto takes it as a given that the goal is for no one to die, to which Nagito responds, "They're Ultimates. For them, the point isn't to just avoid hardship; it's to face it and best it in amazing ways that normal people never could. Those of them who do get to leave this island will be all the stronger and better for it."

And Makoto confronts all of this, and over the course of the conversation, he is able to reframe Nagito's idea of a success state to one where "overcoming the challenge" is managing not to kill, instead of beating the killing game by its established terms. This doesn't mean he isn't constantly getting involved in stuff, and he will still make the murders harder to solve once they happen (because the investigations and trials still make the Ultimates stronger/better), but it means he's slightly less of an instigator in-between murders.

Nagito not instigating the first kill means nothing pushes Teruteru to action. Teruteru's kouhai is Yasuhiro, and they both reinforce each other's deep denial, at least until the first kill happens.

Once a murder does take place, though, Nagito probably comes across the scene while it's still playing out and helps the murderer tidy up their tracks a bit, to Makoto's dismay. (Nagito puts him in his pocket so he can't snitch.)

And Nagito will still suggest that he himself should be a murder victim, because it wouldn't be right to let the Ultimates get murdered without offering himself up. He reassures Makoto, "Don't worry; Mikan will take good care of you when I die. You'll be in better hands with her, really." (But also, he sees how...increasingly obsessive Mikan is with her kouhai(s), so he might ask Hajime to take Makoto for him if he dies. Hajime agrees.)

[scaryscarecrows]

Ownership

Arkham City is the latest bad idea in a long, long line of bad ideas. Jason’s really not sure why, exactly, this was allowed to happen (well, money, but still), but it was and it’s making keeping tabs on the Batman a lot harder.

But Jason’s not here for the Bat tonight. He’s here because of the very persistent rumors that something’s wrong with Joker. Morbidly, he’d like to know. Practically, he needs to know; Joker, out of all the freaks in here, is likely to intervene in any of Jason’s plans. His obsession with Batman makes him a dark horse, and while Jason is inclined to kill him, that operation must be handled delicately. Joker’s the sick sort of bastard to booby-trap himself and if Jason never gets another faceful of laughing gas, it will be too soon.

Joker’s hideout is not hard to find. Even a complete fucking moron with no eyes and no ears would find it. It’s quiet tonight, only a few guards and–thank God–no sign of Harley. The guards go down easy, no bullets required, and soon enough he’s slipping into Sionis’ old mill.

…

Huh.

Penguin’s got a big sonofabitch on his payroll now, with one arm. One half of a pair of conjoined twins, apparently. He hadn’t realized the twin had come here. Somehow, the sigh of a ginormous clown is…a lot scarier than it should be. He’s just gonna leave that guy alone. He’s not here for him anyway, he’s just here for a little investigation. He’s even in civvies, to blend in a little better.

Creak.

He hears it too late; before he can turn, there’s a wire wrapping around his throat and pulling, bringing him to the ground and digging into his skin and he can’t breathe–

“Baby boy!”

Nononononononononononono–

Joker leans over him. Flesh is peeling off his skull and there’s pustules and he stinks like somethin’ Croc threw up. But dark spots are dancing in Jason’s vision now and all he can think is, I don’t wanna die here, please–

All at once, the wire loosens and Joker’s straddling him, those purple leather-gloved fingers stroking the brand lovingly.

“I’ve missed you!” He cackles, and it quickly turns into a nasty cough. Jason’s just frozen, gasping for breath and caught in a loop of don’t make him mad don’t make him mad. “Naughty, naughty, running away like that! But now you’re heeeere again, with meeeee.”

NO!

Jason elbows him the face, bursting a pustule and peeling a chunk of skin off. He intends to follow it by clawing the rest of the bastard’s face off, but Joker’s stronger than he looks, even now, and he lunges forward with one arm pressed against Jason’s throat. The other hand opens a switchblade and traces it under his eye first, then down towards his lips, and then back up again–

–and cuts the brand back open.

It’s not fully healed. Jason’s not sure it would matter. He can’t tell if the pain is physical, psychological, or both. It doesn’t matter, anyway: Joker draws the bloody knife back with a wide, wide smile, wipes the blade across Jason’s lips, and tucks it away.

“You’re mine,” he rasps. “Don’t ever forget that, Todders.”

Jason swallows. Old conditioning is pushing him to submit, to nod his head and whisper yes sir, m’sorry, sir, please don’t do it again.

The Arkham Knight, however, isn’t having being a goddamn chew toy. And that’s the side that wins out.

Mostly.

He brings his knee up to the bastard’s crotch and takes advantage of the immediate recoil to shove him to the side, scramble to his feet, and run.

He’ll tell himself, later, that he let the bastard live so he could die slowly and painfully. He might even believe it, after a while. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s not going back, he’s not doing that again.

He can’t live through that again.

THE END

[mandomaterial]

Imagine you climbed up a tree to pick some fruit but once you’re ready to get down you realize- shit you’re stuck! It’s way too high up and you instantly wrap your arms around the bark of the tree afraid to fall off. You didn’t want this to happen, what were you going to do now? You didn’t want to be stuck here, tears started to fill your eyes as it got harder and harder to breathe, you whimper and whine, feeling dizzy and scared. All the while Kyojuro is just walking back from a simple mission, not even a scratch on himself when he suddenly hears soft cries coming from inside the forest, with a worried look on his face he decides to go investigate and what he sees shocks him a little, at first he assumed it was a kitten stuck in a tree because of the whines but it was a young woman, you. He would have stood there, admiring your pretty face for hours if he didn’t have too rescue you. With his booming voice he asked if you were alright or needed help and you instantly whipped your face around to him wailing even louder. “I-I.. I can’t get *hic* d-downnnn *hic*” you cried, tears treating down your rosy cheeks. Rengoku smiled, he couldn’t help it, you really did look like a cute baby kitten that was stuck in a tree. “Don’t worry! I’ll save you!” He easily jumped from branch to branch reaching you in seconds. You were struck with amazement, how was he able to get up here so quick? You looked at him with big, glistening eyes as he carefully turned and motioned for you to get on his back. With a gentler voice this time he said “c’mon don’t be scared. I won’t let you fall.” whilst looking over his shoulder to assure you. You carefully got onto his back, wrapping your arms around his strong, muscular shoulders. Kyojuro reached back with one hand, gripped your thigh “Ready?” You nodded softly into his hair, admiring how it looked like wild flames. And all of a sudden he jumped, you let out a little scream, your heart pounding like crazy, why did he jump?!?! To your surprise the flaming man landed gracefully and set you down carefully, but your knees were shaking and you stumbled back into him. He led you tight to steady you. After a few moments you looked up to him, making eye contact with his gorgeous eyes that flickered like a wild flame. Your face flushed a little, he was so handsome! And he was your age too! He just smiled at you, not expecting you to do anything but was pleasantly surprised when you got on your tippy toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Heat flushed his face as well “T-that’s for saving me… thank you” Kyojuro noticed that your face was still wet from crying so he gripped his sleeve and dried it. “You’re very welcome, do you live near by? Let me accompany you.” You agreed and walked off with him, wrapping your arms around his stronger one.

Masterlist

[marchiiiii]

Learning to laugh.

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Peirings and Characters: Ler/Lee!Fiddleford McGucket / Lee/Ler!Stanford Pines – Fiddautor

Disclamer: this is a fanfic about tickling, so anyone who isn't interested in that kind of thing, skip it.

Abstract: Fiddleford decides to explore the vulnerabilities of his colleague, Stanford and it leads to something more.

For Fiddleford, tickling had always been of purely scientific interest: He was curious to know why light, playful touches on the skin caused laughter. Tickling is maddeningly similar to pain. You want to squirm and scream for mercy, just as you do in painful agony, but why do some people, far from being sadistic, enjoy tickling? In his notes, he constantly speculated about tickling, coming up with the craziest ideas: "To begin with, there are two kinds of tickling. The first, nysmesis, or "moving itch," is an unpleasant sensation of slight movement on the skin, reminiscent of a crawling insect. The insect wants to be swept away and the skin scratched. The second type, gargalesis, is caused by a stronger, intermittent pressure on the skin in certain areas. This is the tickle that causes the laughter. However, gargalesis is not always pleasant, much depends on the situation: who exactly is tickling, for how long, how hard...".

McGuckett had never told anyone about his interest in tickling: it would have been strange to do so, even with Ford.

"Hey, Ford, and I study tickling!!!"

It would probably have led to ridicule and teasing. And he didn't really want to tickle or be tickled. Just a theory. Never practice.

His interest in the subject grew: he was already looking at Ford, trying to guess if he was ticklish. Now the diary entries turned into something else.

Where before there had been something about the hypothalamus and the fact that laughter from tickling was not the same as laughter from a good joke, now there were - unexpectedly - entries about tickles, ticklers, and switches.

The day was like any other. Ford worked at his desk with all kinds of papers, unable to distract himself. McGucket, on the other hand, stood behind someone else's back, looking at the strong and confident body....

Fiddleford wanted to touch him more and more. No, not to pet him, not to hold him, not to rub him. Tickle him.

He wanted to tickle Ford, and he seemed to want to tickle him more and more every minute.

- Ford, - McGucket began, touching the other man's back with his hand.

Pines turned his head and smiled slightly.

- Yes, what is it?

- I need you for experience. Right away," Fiddleford answered, fidgeting slightly.

- Has my theorist gone into practice? - Ford teased and nodded, "I'm at your disposal. What would you like to investigate?

McGucket dropped his hand uncertainly to his friend's side.

- A tickle.

- What do you-

But it was too late: Fiddleford had already begun tickling Pines's side. Subconsciously at first, immediately remembering all his clever words. "Charioteer," "scraping," "fingering," and "poking." All those tickling terms meant something. And there was more to learn today. He was tickled with pokes, poking his sides from both sides. Ford endured. A smile played on his lips, but his lips were chewed with excitement. If McGucket was just exploring, Ford didn't want to be tickled.

- Isn't that ticklish! - Outraged Fiddleford at last.

Ford bit his lip harder and fidgeted in his chair. "Obviously ticklish." - McGucket made up his mind. 'Doesn't poking tickle? Or would it be better to use "charioteer"? Fiddleford ran his fingernails along the side of his companion, and Pines burst into tears.

- Stop it, stop it, you little bastard, - Ford shouted, - just stop it and no one will get hurt AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....

McGuckett liked it a lot. And it's not even clear why. He liked the laughter, he liked dominating Ford, and in the end he forgot that he was tickling for the sake of science.

He was having fun. A lot of fun. Fiddleford pounced on Ford and pinned him to the chair.

- Is this another experiment?

Pines whispered softly and was instantly punished for his question. McGuckett's fingers found his lower ribs and began to run over them playfully. Ford squirmed and laughed out loud. The laugh was guttural and hoarse.

Ford closed his eyes so he couldn't look him in the eye, but that didn't stop Fiddleford from enjoying himself. He moved his fingers to his upper ribs, tickled the sensitive skin there, and then began to tickle Ford's lower ribs again. Ford seemed to whimper.

- Stop, Fiddleford, I'm going to kill you! AHAHAHAHAHAHA, you little bastard....

They'd never been close enough to tickle... But Pines had always wanted that kind of closeness.

- Why are you blushing? - asked McGucket.

- What do you think?

Ford didn't know why he was blushing. It felt like embarrassment, excitement, and terrible shame all at once. Fiddleford shrugged and ran his fingernails up to the other man's armpits.

It's hard to describe how Ford whimpered, laughed loudly, and seemed to wake up the whole village.

- Why are you blushing? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH....

Pines asked mockingly, twitching and trying to bend over. Fiddleford caught himself thinking that he was blushing because he literally liked Ford.

In retaliation, Fiddleford began to tickle even harder, scratching at the man's armpits. Ford screamed and began to beg for mercy.

- I'll do anything you want.... AHAHAHAHAHAHAH, really!!! All the AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH of the world!!!

- Will you describe the sensations for my research?

Ford nodded and the inspired scientist paused.

- Describe.

- Describe it to your senses, - Pines said with an uncharacteristic playfulness.

- What?

Before McGuckett knew it, Ford had him on the ground. Brutally. No way out of this.

- You're going to use the scrubber method to tickle...?

- I haven't studied it like you have.

Ford joked, running all six fingers over his friend's stomach as deftly as he could.

- You have the advantage! That's not fair!!!

- Small price to pay for my suffering.

Fiddleford laughed loudly, wriggling on the ground and squealing from the tickling.

Ford is tickled by McGuckett, tickles his belly and makes him squirm and whimper. Fiddleford tried to remember every sensation so he could describe it later. Okay, it felt good rather than painful, but impossible. He wanted to laugh, squeal and twitch at the same time. It was impossible to restrain himself. All the feelings merged into one.

Ford tickled man's chest, scratched his ribs. McGuckett had a full-on tantrum. Fiddleford was writhing on the floor, pounding on him with both hands, begging him to stop.

- Fordy, please stop!

The frayed nervous system could not take the strain, and the laughter turned to sobs.

Sobbing with laughter, but tears rolling from his eyes, Fiddleford literally continued to squeal. Ford stopped, not wanting to torture.

- I'm sorry...?

- You stopped at the most interesting part.

- Shall I start again? - Ford raised his eyebrows.

- NO!!!

McGuckett shrieked. Pines hummed and kissed him lightly on the face. The kiss landed on his cheek and Fiddleford blushed.

Ford smiled, looked at the his face, and then stroked his cheek with a fingertip.

- If you need me for any more experiments, you can let me know.

He chuckled softly.

Fiddleford stared at the man as if hypnotized. Carefully he caught Ford's hand and smiled at the corner of his lips.

- I just won't let you go.

- I'm afraid you won't, - he replied sarcastically, nuzzling his lips against his.

Who would have thought that tickling would affect them so much? But in the end, there was too much of it in their relationship.

[callisto42]

A moderately qualified analysis and critique of Heretic (the 2024 horror movie) as a former sister missionary

so I saw the movie last night with a nonmormon friend who enjoyed it. I also enjoyed it, but felt like it didn't quite stick the landing, I didn't feel satisfied. He asked what I would've done differently to fix the ending, and I didn't have an answer at the time but I've thought it through and wanted to share my thoughts to all 5 of my active followers (sorry guys)

spoilers below the cut:

So the first half of the movie sets up the second half - building tension, as Mr. Reed asks increasingly uncomfortable questions about Mormon history and points out ugly facts about Joseph Smith and polygamy. The second half has the sisters descending into multiple levels of metaphorical hell, it would seem, but I think each stage represents a different missionary lesson - but turned on its head.

The first LDS missionary lesson is about the Restoration of God's true church. As a missionary, you emphasize God's pattern of calling prophets to restore that population to righteousness. Eventually they return to their ungodly, apostate ways, and the cycle begins again. This is a pattern that investigators need to understand in order to have context for Joseph Smith - accepting that an uneducated 19th century farmboy saw God is a little harder to swallow otherwise. But in the pattern of calling prophets, it makes sense. So Mr. Reed flips this - his first lesson, in his pseudo chapel, is that there are patterns of saviors - miraculous births, disciples, miracles, rising from the dead after betrayal and murder. Again, patterns of stories of chosen ones

The second LDS lesson is about the Plan of Salvation. Why are we here? Did we exist before this life? What happens after? Where do we go? We see this echoed in the basement with the false miracle of the woman coming back to life and describing the afterlife. Mr. Reed even starts drawing circles and lines on a table, which is how missionaries draw diagrams of the road map of existence, although Mr. Reed was off script here, this wasn't planned.

The third missionary lesson is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. What do we need to do? What is the main message of Christ? Have faith, repent, be changed by the Atonement. This parallel is a little weaker here, but Mr. Reed, in the room with caged victims, reveals his gospel, the gospel of control, to Sister Paxton.

I think the parallels here are probably intentional, but in the second half of the movie, Mr. Reed pivots from picking at mormonism to attacking all religions as derivative and controlling. I think a stronger plot would be to keep him focused on psychologically terrorizing sister missionaries by taking their lessons and teaching them back, but twisted and cruel. It seems more in character for Mr. Reed to act like that - he'd want to pull their strings and watch them realize what he was doing. He was flat out giddy when he realized Sister Paxton was on to him.

So how should the film end? In real life, the missionaries ask you to get baptized and join the Mormon church. In the movie, Mr. Reed asks Sister Paxton if she's figured out the one true religion. It's a similar question, and while "this religion is true" is implied by missionaries asking you to be baptized, it's a request for you to take action. Mr. Reed, in turn, should have asked Sister Paxton to decide between killing herself (her choice) or to get in the cage (accepting his religion). However, as Sister Barnes points out earlier in the film, there's a whole spectrum between "belief" and "disbelief" that Mr. Reed ignores. He read them a Hinckley quote earlier that positions the church as either completely true or completely false; but he himself presents his idea of religion as an absolute truth too. In choosing to kill him, Sister Paxton would have rejected both the church's and Mr. Reed's ideas of forcing her into harsh binary options.

(I also would have liked both sisters to survive. I was a missionary who had to deal with creepy, dangerous men regularly; but also I wanted one final conversation between the two as they escaped, as a fitting bookend for how the movie started.)

[autumn-foxfire]

Based on what I just wrote (x) I want to dive more into Psychic!Kaito and Medium!Shinichi.

Kaito barely uses his psychic abilities, in fact he's vowed to never use them when performing magic because he wants to become the best magician in the world through sleigh of hand skills. However he does use them to mess with people in ways that don't involve magic and protect himself from harm (it's so much easier to stop bullets in midair and making snipers wonder how the fuck he did that, funnier too). Hakuba is often a victim of Kaito's psychic pranks, especially because unlike Kaito's magic pranks, he has absolutely no clue how he did it.

Despite being able to speak to ghosts, that does not make Shinichi's job any easier, in fact in some cases it makes it harder ("Yes, I know you two hated each other but that doesn't mean they killed you," is a phrase Shinichi has found himself hissing a lot when ghosts get upset that he's not investigating the "right" people). Not all have the answers so Shinichi still has to use his detective skills and find better incriminating evidence than Brenda swearing on her now dead body that Charles killed because they had a fight over a parking spot.

Only Kaito's parents knew he was psychic. In fact, the closest he said to the truth was when he jokingly told friends he was so when they couldn't figure out how he did certain card tricks. As he had grown older, his powers only grew stronger and stronger. It went from only being able to bend spoons to throwing furniture across the room. Poker Face became an essential tool to him when he realised his powers were reacting to his emotions.

Shinichi, likewise, has only told three people, his parents and the man who became his guardian when his parents were out of the country, Professor Agasa. He was fearful people would think he was insane if he told them, he was already disliked for how death seemed to follow him and for his intelligence. A selfish part of him didn't want people to mistake his ability to talk to the dead for the reason he was so good at solving crimes. Yeah, sometimes he had an advantage over his fellow detectives over who the killer was when the ghost had seen them directly but that only meant he had to work harder to find that proof or else be blinded by his bias.

This was a burden they would deal with alone, they both had decided.

[winniethewife]

You Can’t Always Save Everybody.

(Miguel O’hara x Spidersona!Scarlette Web)

Chapter 1

Words:1467

Warning; Angst, Violence

A new super villain with the moniker Scarlette Web was causing problems. There was no precedent for this in any other universe. But she wasn't an anomaly. She was supposed to be there. But why wasn't the local spider stopping her? Miguel, Peter B. And Gwen go to the universe in question to investigate.

 “She should have been capable enough to defeat this Scarlet Web person on her own with no complications.” Miguel says to the group as they stake out a high up building. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Just then they hears a voice from behind him.

“Miguel O'Hara. I'm surprised it took you this long to come investigate. You're usually so on top of these disruptions in canon.” There stood the Scarlett Web. Her dark red and black suit was quite reminiscent of a classic Spiderman suit, with additions, high heel boots, bracers, and a cowl. What really bothered him was that her voice was really familiar. And the way she held herself.

“Sarlette web, I presume?” Miguel questioned

“In the flesh.” She says with a sadistic tone in her voice. She uses web shooters to stick him to the wall behind him. Something they didn’t expect. Miguel found it impossible to move, this was not normal webbing. He struggled to get out as she fought off the others.

“Woah, Hey wait you like know all my good moves!” Peter exclaims as She easily fights him off and easily webs his arms together and kicks his legs out from under him. Gwen was to busy fighting off some spider-like robots too even have a second to notice Scarlette approach, she puts her hand over Gwen’s mouth and some kind of sleeping agent penetrates her mask and she’s out cold.  

“Nice to see some familiar faces.” She snidely remarks as she walks up to Miguel. “How’s the new web formula I created? Several times stronger than what you use at the society. Plus with the added bonus is the more you struggle the harder it is to get out.”

“No way hang on…Miguel…it’s-” Peter realizes who they were dealing with.

“Valentine…” Miguel is taken by surprise.

Valentine Foxx joined the Spider-society early on, an amazing inventor, she was a little cold a little distant. She had lost her husband just under a year before, they had been together since sophomore year of high school, It hadn’t helped when a man almost identical to her husband had shown up and asked her to become a part of the Spider Society.

Her Miguel was thinner, less muscular, he had several tattoos and piercings, he was a Bassist for a Punk band that was just starting to get popular when the unthinkable happened. A shooting at a concert, Miguel was declared DOA, dead on arrival. Valentine was fighting Green Goblin the night it happened. There was nothing she could have done. Valentine had hardly recovered, when The figure of Miguel O’hara, Spiderman 2099, came into her life.

Although He looked like her husband they had very little in common personality wise. What surprised most that knew either of the two however was they became fast friends. Miguel had a soft spot for her, and she let down her barriers of ice for him. It seemed like they had really found solace in each other’s company. That was until everything had happened with Miles, and Miguel closed her out. No more patrols together, No more quite afternoons in the lab, no more slightly drunken escapades where they got closer than they should have, none of that. Valentine felt like she had lost everything all over again. So one day, She portaled home, threw her gizmo in a drawer and wasn’t seen for months…until now.

 ~

She was so different now, it felt wrong. Miguel struggled against the webs, only to get himself further stuck.

“You’re not Valentine…” Miguel hissed. “She would never do this!” But that voice…

 “Believe it O'hara!” She hissed before pulling her mask off to reveal her face. It was most definitely Valentine. Those piercing midnight eyes, the beautiful raven hair, the porcelain skin. That was definitely her. “How far the mighty have fallen hm? A spider woman switching sides? Inconceivable right? Well here I am.” She continues in that venomous tone with a smirk on her face as she watches his reaction.

 “This isn’t you…” Miguel said “What the hell happened to you?” he questioned, as her voice caused him to flinch every now and then. It was almost unsettling, to hear her voice say such things.

“Oh this is me Miguel. This is the me you created...”she chuckles slightly “what the hell happened to me? You. You happened to me. You got under my skin. Made me think I was doing good for the multiverse. Made me think that all the suffering I went through was worth it. Being spider woman is about sacrifices. The choices we make along the way. With great power comes great responsibility....” She mocks him before coming in really close and turning off his holographic mask. “All that bullshit you tell us right?”

“You’ve lost your way…” Miguel stated, the truth stinging. “You went off the deep end…” Miguel could see it in her eyes, she meant what she said. He was responsible for letting things get this far, he pushed one of his closest friend too far.

“Oh yeah I got pretty fucking lost. Went from having a community, a close friend, someone I thought I could trust with my entire self.” Her eyes glare into his with intensity. “But then I just became a thorn in your side right? I was easily discarded. It's easy to forget about little Valentine.” She sneers at him. “Poor little spider girl, hangs on Miguel's every word, practically worshipped the ground he walked on, wanted nothing more than to be his friend, his confidant…” She grabs his hair and pulls it up hard hitting his head into the wall. “Easy to lose track of her right?”

Valentine was truly gone.

“You’re not Valentine! Where’s the Valentine I know! What happened to her?!” Miguel questioned, as he began writhing. He began to get angrier and angrier with her.

“Oh, at first she just cried...for days. Wondering what she did wrong. One day there was a knock at the door and she thought for sure it was you. There to make everything better. But no!” She pulls his hair again so He's looking directly at her. “After that she hid in the closet for a couple days. Eventually she finally got mad. And once she got mad she got pissed. And now she...is me.” She narrows her eyes at him.

“You… are insane.” he hissed. Every time she pulled his hair or hurt him in some way Miguel felt like he was losing his mind. As she spoke that dark smile on her faces pissed him off. Her words were getting under his skin, and it was infuriating.

“Oh, if you think I'm insane now...”she kissed her teeth. “At first I just wanted you to fucking pay attention. I just wanted you to notice. But I quickly figured out, it's a lot of fun to be the bad guy.” She grins at him as she yanks his head back hitting his head on the wall again before laughing. “If it's so bad why does it feel so damn good?” She pulls his face closer to hers and she grins at him with a sadistic evil glint in her eye. Miguel tried struggling, but the more he tried, the more stuck he got.

“Damn it. She really is crazy…” Peter says quietly.

The way she looked was unsettling. Her dark eyes blood shot, her every word dripping with venom.

“You aren’t My Valentine though.” Miguel hissed. ”My Valentine wouldn’t do this.”

She tuts her tongue at him and releases his hair before grabbing him by the chin. As she made him look into her eyes the smile faded from her face.

“You keep telling yourself that. Whatever lets you sleep at night Miggy.” She uses that nickname the one he only lets her use. For flash of a second he can see his Valentine in her eyes as the shimmer slightly with tears. She closes her eyes and lets his face go. Valentine starts to walk away.

“Go ahead and tell everyone back home that I’m the villain now but please... don’t forget to tell them… you created me.” She says with a sense of finality. She swings away from the scene. Knowing that although the new webbing formula was more dangerous and deadly it only lasted about an hour. And she was running out of time to get out of there before Miguel and the others were free from the webs.

~

Next chapter

Masterlist

Tag: @femmeanonymelives

[afi-mukami]

Did she see something more?

Final Fantasy VII

AerTi

Teen and up

Tifa disagrees with the other members of the Avalanche about the way the organization works, so she leaves the scene to vent her feelings. Her legs take her to Sector 8, where she accidentally runs into a woman selling flowers.

The door of 7th Heaven slammed shut. Harder than I meant. My feet tucked down the stairs to the hard-packed sandy street. Corners of my eyes tried to get wet, but I wiped them with my hand. I had to take a deep breath. It would have been better to even stop for breathing, but my feet pushed forward. Ahead. Ahead. To the station and to the train leading to the upper level of Sector 8. I did not know if some people starred after me. I crashed into the bench just as the train jerked off the station.

A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in my head that did not wanted to calm down, even as I tried to relax and closed my eyes for a moment.

“I already investigated it. The bomb doesn’t have to destroy the entire reactor to shut it down,” Jessie said.

Barret crossed his arms and nodded. Wedge's gaze shone in a strange way. In a different way than ever before. Biggs looked more insecure. I got up from the table and pressed my palm against the wooden board. My fingers swept the pit that numerous pots had slowly consumed into it.

“A lot of people live near Mako reactors. People who can die if something goes wrong. The Avalanche is not a terrorist organization, although Shinra wants to say so.”

I emphasized every word, but Jessie gave me a look that did not require words to support it. I heard her voice in my mind. Don't fuss now. Let us take care of this. I shook my head at her.

“Jessie can do it. It doesn’t go wrong,” Wedge said.

“I think we’d do well to go through all the possible chains of events yet, because there may be factors here that we don’t—” Biggs started, and I just had time to nod to him as Barret slammed his fist on the table so hard that the board popped against my hands.

“Jessie has thought about this and shown her bombing plan to me. It's bomb-proof!”

"We cannot sacrifice innocent people!" I said.

“No one is innocent in this war,” Jessie said. "I thought you were involved in this, that your background -"

"I'm involved with all my heart in Avalanche. I don’t want to see Shinra destroy everything we love.”

“Then there’s no problem,” Barret said.

"If people die because of us, that's the problem."

“No one dies. The plan is perfect.”

I stared at Barret. He had his stubborn look. The hands crossed again, which was an achievement in itself with the weapon that replaced the right arm. Only sunglasses were missing, with them his wall would have been perfect. My throat squeezed, my breathing became heavy and my field of vision began to quiver. No, not in this company. I was stronger.

My legs worked before my mind got along, and the door of 7th Heaven slammed shut. Harder than I meant.

The train pounded at a steady pace from the slums of the Seven Sector. The identity check swept through the cart with red lines, but I barely paid attention to it. I rubbed my temples and focused on staring out the window, even though there was only darkness.

It had been foolish to rushed out this way. Not like me. I wanted to think I was calm and sensible, accepting. I am not a drama queen. My chest was still squeezing as I thought what the bomb might do.

The train slowed down. Arriving at Sector 8, the announcement said in the same voice as on each train. The voice of a faceless woman, probably someone from Shinra. The blackness behind the train window changed into rows of buildings above which the evening sky could be seen. The stars were indistinguishable as they were covered under the orange night light of Midgar. The view was mixed with a green hint of Mako.

Twitch and stop. People got up from their seats. I followed suit and walked to the station now at a much slower pace than I had arrived on the train. The rush flowed somewhere on the tracks as my shoes hit the cobblestones. Some of the hair had escaped from my dark brown ponytail and the wind swept them to my face.

I pushed my hair out of my field of vision and let my gaze run through the landscape. People here were better dressed than in the slums. The scent was more pleasant too. Now a little damp but not stale, the air maybe a little fresher. Admittedly not at all like in the mountains of Nibelheim.

My heart pounded. I immediately pushed the memories aside. I could not stop at them now. I could not stop at all, so I set out to leap off the station. To wander aimlessly through the streets with several cafes. Full of people, whose face had no worries at all. People who did not count their gills when they bought another pint. People for whom tomorrow was a new opportunity, not a struggle.

I stopped at a corner and took a breath. I absorbed the coolness and let it filled me. There was magic in the evenings and nights that was not reached during the day when the rough light revealed every detail. Twilight, on the other hand, wrapped everything above a veil of mystery and made the world softer.

"Are you lost?"

The sound was friendly, even soft, but it had a nasal tone. Customer service voice. I turned around and forced a smile on my face. The green gaze examined me. As the woman turned her head, her long bangs, divided on both sides, waved for a moment to cover her eyes, but soon her eyes watched me again. The light brown braid swinged in her neck, emphasizing the femininity of the delicate red lips. I had not seen this woman before, but a basket of flowers on her arm told me enough.

“I guess you could express it that way too,” I replied and did not even know why.

"Where are you going?"

The woman pressed the flower basket against her stomach, and the hems of her pink dress followed the movement. I quickly looked up back into her eyes, where curiosity radiated. It was impossible to say which part of it was genuine and which was carefully considered. On the other hand, I was not a potential customer, so she had no reason to use her sale tactics for me.

As I changed the weight from one leg to the other, and the woman mirrored my gesture. The braid swung from side to side, and her head turned obliquely. A smile danced on her lips.

“Not really anywhere,” I replied.

“Oh, then you’re really lost,” the woman said, smiling. "Sometimes the right path is found when you wander far enough, and sometimes you have to go far to see close."

I blinked my eyes and smiled again. Something in this woman made me smile genuinely. She made my curled upwards instinctively.

"You’re probably right,” I said.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?"

The woman leaned closer to me, and the scent of flowers flooded against my face. I had to gather all my willpower not to close my eyes and take a deep breath. I did not even remember the last time I smelled something as sweet.

"Aren't you in the middle of work?" I asked and tried to keep my face still. It was hard when the scent of lilies exuded from the flower basket. The scent, which did not suit the urban environment of the Sector 8 at all, not to mention the slums.

"A break would be nice."

I shrugged. Of course, I could measure the streets alone all evening or even the night, but it would hardly make me feel better. Instead, a friendly chatting at the corner table of a nice cafe might be a whole other thing. That would feel normal. Something that had disappeared from my life long ago. Besides, I could not say I would have spent time in cafes with girls ever. My childhood friends were all boys, and Jessie was not the type who I could ask to have coffee with me. Coffee dates among women were things that happened to others.

“Maybe I could use a coffee break too,” I finally replied. Far after too long a silence, but the woman looked as if she had not bothered at all about my quietness.

“I know a nice place. I go there sometimes to sell flowers to customers,” the woman said, pointing to a side street. "By the way... I'm Aerith. I didn't remember to introduce myself earlier.”

"Tifa."

Aerith nodded at me, and her forehead hair swinged again. There was a light laugh hovered on her lips as she steered me away from the hustle and bustle of the main street. The houses were so close together that the alley did not look outright inviting, but 7th Heaven was not in the best possible area either. Still, the bar was more of a home than the apartment building I had been settled into.

A bell tinged as Aerith pushed open the cafe door. The place was lit by lanterns instead of Mako energy lamps. It was hard to even imagine such a place on the upper levels, where much more Mako energy was utilized than in the slums. My heart jumped, there was still hope.

Maybe Aerith had read my previous thoughts as she guided us to the corner table. The waitress immediately rushed to take our order and carried the cups in front of us quite quickly.  There was air of good service and peace in the cafe. I did not want to know how expensive the coffee would be.

I crossed my legs and leaned my elbows on the table. I pressed my chin against hands and a curl of hair ran past my cheek. I did not bother to swipe it back. It was so short that it never stayed put. I breathed warm room air filled with the rich scent of coffee. It mixed with the summer glow swaying from Aerith’s flower basket, which was almost more intense than the dark drink in front of me. Lightness hovered over me and dragged me along as if I had been drinking alcohol instead of coffee, even though I had not even tasted my drink yet.

Aerith spun a spoon in her latte and seemed to have disappeared to another planet. The gaze of the green eyes wandered somewhere beyond reality, but still smile did not leave her lips.

"Stagnant, quiet moments are the best, aren't they?" Aerith asked, and her gaze brightened again. The green gaze stuck to mine, and something warm flowed to the bottom of my stomach.

“Sometimes they are,” I replied, finally lifting the cup of coffee to my lips. Dark and tasty. The products of this cafe were made from quality beans.

"What do you do for a living? You don’t actually look like you’re working here in the Sector 8,” Aerith said. The spoon was still spinning in her latte.

“I work in a bar at the Sector 7,” I replied. I almost already opened my mouth but decided at the last minute not to say anything about Avalanche. I could never know who was listening in the shadows, and besides, I did not know Aerith at all.

"Sounds exciting. I sometimes go to bars myself to sell flowers, but I usually come here to the upper levels.”

I nodded. Certainly, flowers got a better trade here. I could not even imagine our customers buying a bouquet of lilies. When I did not say anything, Aerith started talking about her customers and the nightlife in the Sector 8, which sounded quite lively. But drunks were drunks even when they were rich, and people needed places to relax. It was easy to identify with her stories.

"Well tell me, Tifa, do you have someone special in your life?" Aerith asked suddenly and leaned forward. The elbows dug into the tablecloth and her latte swayed. Her lips curled to a smile the way that made my heart flutter.

"No, not really."

The first months in the slums were the heaviest. I had imagined that in Midgar, Soldiers would appear everywhere, but you did not actually see them in the streets. Still, my gaze fetched blond hair, and I turned my head as soon as one flashed in the corner of my eye. Although the years had rolled by and we had never been immensely close, I wanted to think that our paths could still cross.

Months passed and our paths did not cross. Barret hired me to 7th Heaven, life settled down, I got into Avalanche, helped people in the slums, built a community where everyone cared for each other, I found my place, I found my purpose, I found my own life. I never found him. Maybe he had died in some battle before he had time to rise to the level of Sephiroth. Maybe that was better. After all, we all knew that Sephiroth was not the kind of hero he had been painted in the headlines in my childhood.

One day I realized I had not looked for him in the crowds for the longest time. I focused on what was here and now. That was good.

"And now you lied." There was no accusation in Aerith's words. She laughed but got soon serious. “I had one. A Soldier.”

The word pounded in my chest. The pounding was followed by such a throbbing that I heard nothing else for a moment. The voices in the bar disappeared, even though people were still having their own conversations around us. I swallowed two times and took a deep breath. I should not let my imagination fly. The past was gone, and it was better to focus on the future. And yet the thought tickled my mind downright embarrassingly.

“But he disappeared five years ago, so no more of that,” Aerith said, waving her hand at the air.

A thousand questions raced to my lips at once, but I swallowed each one. Aerith had no obligation to answer me, there was no need to say anything more. We were just two women who had met by chance in an evening in Midgar. We would probably never meet again after this. Still, I wanted to… If I did not ask but just lead the discussion to the right direction… There was nothing wrong in that. Such was only considered polite. If I kept talking, no embarrassing silence would arise.

"A Soldier?" I repeated. "I knew one who came to Midgar years ago to become a Soldier."

“Really? Did he succeed?”

"I do not know. I have not heard from him in a long time nor have seen him in years. I wish we had met again, but…”

"In my experience, the Soldiers are terribly busy… I could have stayed staring at those blue eyes forever, but there was never enough time."

My chest jumped again. I was fairly sure my heart wanted to throb out through my throat. Would it be possible…?

“But that’s about it. It’s not worth longing for the Soldiers,” Aerith continued before I had time to say anything. She reached out her hand over the table and grabbed my wrist. “Believe me, you deserve something better. The world still has something to offer you.”

"Yes, it is better to leave childhood friends as childhood friends…"

"I have heard that childhood friends are special though," Aerith said. She tilted her head like she was thinking. "Maybe it's still better to keep your eyes open for opportunities."

"You're definitely right."

Aerith smiled again. She smiled a lot. The pink lips curled sweetly, seductively even, while the long lashes over the green eyes fluttered. Those eyes were as deep as the world itself. You could almost thought that there was Lifestream swirling in them.

“I think there are plenty of opportunities for you,” Aerith said.

The words floated in my ears as warm fingers brushed my wrist. Should I have jerked my hand farther? Maybe, but I could not even move. There was something hypnotic, soothing, and stopping about Aerith.

I had to concentrate so I could grab the coffee cup with my free hand. It trembled against my lower lip as I lifted it up. The drink had cooled, and the taste refracted in a more bitter direction, but I downed most of the coffee. The cup slammed against the table a little harder than was appropriate at the same moment as Aerith let go of my hand.

I watched how long fingers snatched a yellow lily from the flower basket. Aerith got up, walked around the table over to me. Her scent of flowers danced over me and enveloped me in pleasant memories of a time when I sometimes went to pick flowers from the fields near Nibelheim. My eyelids slid shut and I swam in the scent.

Aerith's fingers brushed my hair, my ears. The flower slid behind my ear.

“Perfect,” Aerith whispered straight into my ear and breathing swept the skin of my neck. As the cold and hot shivers ran down my neck all the way to my toes, I opened my eyes. The green gaze was closer than ever before, and yet I could not get my eyes off her slightly open lips. No lipstick, the glow was Aerith’s own, and was highlighted by a colorless lip balm. Like a pink flower bud that was about to open to its full glow.

“A lily should bring you good luck. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

Aerith's whisper could barely be heard, but still it lifted goosebumps to my skin. The voice wiped my cheek, the heat swept my ear. My heart continued it bouncing.

“Maybe we’ll meet again,” Aerith added and straightened up. She grabbed her basket of flowers and waved her hand goodbye. She had disappeared from the cafe before I had time to properly realize that she was really gone.

"The payment, please."

The waitress appeared as if from scratch next to me.

I glanced at the untouched latte and my half drank coffee. A smile climbed to my lips, though I realized I should have reacted differently. My stomach itched. Aerith had used me, but the anger did not pulsate inside me. Instead, even previous despair had swung away with Aerith.

I checked what I needed to pay from the receipt and counted the appropriate number of gills on the table. I did not wait for the change but rushed into the damp twilight. I did not even see the hem of Aerith’s the pink dress.

My shoes creaked as I headed my steps back to the station. I would still get to the last train of the evening. I already knew I would not find Aerith anymore, so I might as well return home. Maybe she was never there.

When the train arrived at the Sector 7, I was no longer sure of anything. The evening was foggy. Maybe I had not really met anyone, maybe I was just sitting alone ventilating my mind. When I touched my ear, I understood the truth. Aerith had really passed my life. Maybe our meeting had meant to happen. A reminder that there was still a lot of good in the world to fight for.

No one else got out of the cart, and the station was quiet as I stepped into the orange light and was going to head towards the home. I had stepped down the stairs when I noticed someone leaning on the bench. Not sitting on it but leaning on it. A young man laid on the ground with a huge sword in front of him, dangling his head between his shoulders and leaning his back on the bench seat. I had not seen him before, and by nature he looked like a soldier. Maybe one of Shinra’s ranks have had too much fun and zonked out.

For a moment I thought I would pass the man. Shinra had not brought anything good into my life, so I was not in debt. Still, my legs were nailed to the ground. I stared at the light spiked hair, and my chest flicked again. I could not help but squat next to the man.

"Hey, are you okay?"

His head rose, and fuzzy blue-green eyes swayed as they looked at me. I was not sure if the man really saw me. His lips tried to form words, but I could not understand. Words got stuck in my throat as tears popped into my eyes and blurred the view.

Aerith had known something. I was sure of it.