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sailoryooons · 1 year

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The Wood | JHS | (m)

☾ Pairing: witch!Hoseok x female reader

☾ Summary: From the moment you step foot in Kill Devil, you know something about the town is off. Determined to find out exactly how your sister went missing in such a small town, you receive unlikely help from the man staying in the motel room next to yours. But there is so much more than what meets the eye with Hoseok and the citizens of Kill Devil.

☾ Word Count: 16,786

☾ Genre: supernatural, psychological thriller, southern-gothic

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Creepy town vibes somewhere in the south, unreliable narrator because she’s a dumb bitch, missing family member, descriptions of nightmares and night terrors, allusions to toxic citizens and intolerance in the southern US, cryptic exchanges, being attacked and choked by a strange entity, sleep paralysis, depictions of anxiety and panic and deep fear, manipulation, cat Yoongi.... sort of, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, slight hand job, a lot of spit and cum, fucking in a nasty ass motel room, mean Hoseok at the end, I don't know why I reference frogs so much please forgive me, ambiguous ending/unexplained ending, implied death of a side character off-screen

☾ Published: May 29, 2022

☾ A/N: Not only is this absolutely a million weeks late, it also is the longest it has ever - and I mean ever - taken me to write a fic. This was so hard for me to write, and I have deleted anad re-written thousands of words for this. The end result is something that I absolutely did not plan. This fic is ENTIRELY different from the original outline and idea, so at times it might seem where this piece doesn’t know where it’s going because it wasn’t until I got to the end of the smut scene last night that I realized what the hell this story needed.

I want to thank @here2bbtstrash because I could not have written this fic without them, but also for the amazing and thorough beta they gave this. This was one of my choppier/messier pieces and they helped fix this so much and I have giant feelings for M that are very normal. Also a special thank you to @gimmethatagustd for keeping me somewhat sane while really struggling with this piece.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | To Love A Monster Collab | Song Inspiration

Only God can save us!

It’s probably the tenth sign of the like that you’ve seen. Your palms feel sweaty on the wheel, the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you drive through God’s Country increasing. For some reason, as you catch glimpses of old abandoned churches at the end of red dirt roads and leaning fruit stands with no seller in sight, you think that perhaps God has forsaken this place.

The drive has been unremarkable, but the closer you get to Kill Devil you think perhaps the town is aptly named. You can’t help but get the sense - especially when you stop at a gas station with no one inside and a single working pump - that there is a reason the town sports such a unique title.

It’s hard to imagine why your sister would ever move here, even temporarily. Outside, the locusts whine, a high-pitched buzzsaw hidden in the boughs draped with Spanish moss. The paint on the road has long since faded, single lanes stretching North to South in an endless strip.

Sticky heat prickles your skin. Though there’s no one else around save for you and the locusts, you can’t help but look around nervously, eyes scouring the oak trees. The door to the gas station is locked, and the other side of your single-station pump has a red bag on the handle.

The sk sk sk of the pump is a slow heartbeat. Pulling out your phone while you wait, your stomach flips when you see that you have very little service. You’re about thirty minutes away from Kill Devil and an hour away from any major cities. Peppered along the map are small towns like Kill Devil, home to pecan farms, corn fields, and cotton gins.

You feel a long way from home.

A tingle slides down the back of your neck. You look up from your phone, gaze sweeping back and forth through the trees and over the cracked pavement of the station. There’s nothing else there, but you have the sense that the trees have eyes.

The pump clicks loudly and your heart lurches, hand flying to your chest as you shriek and turn. For a few moments, your heart beats so loudly in your ears you can’t hear the chirping of the locusts or your ragged breathing as you close your eyes, trying to level out your moment of panic.

“Fuck,” you mutter, pulling the handle and jiggling it lightly to ensure any dripping gas is shaken off.

Naturally, you’re a pretty calm person. The jumpiness belongs to your mother, who screams every time someone turns a corner in the house unexpectedly. It’s something about the feeling that clings to you like a second skin as you get in the car that has you shaken.

Or it’s the fact that your sister has been missing for two months.

On instinct, your hand goes to the necklace around your throat. It’s a heart-shaped locket, which would seem cheesy to anyone else. But for you, it’s one of the few coveted items you have from her.

It’s also something that you swear burned you in the middle of the night two months ago. You’re not sure if you believe in spiritual intuition or connection between family members, but what you do know is that you haven’t heard from her, and the local police have been no help.

Trust your gut. That’s what she’s always said. And you do trust your gut on this, this knowing that something is wrong.

On the road again, your tension continues to increase. The land has turned to steep up and down hills, pines lined on either side of the road, pocked with deep canyons.

Orange tire tracks appear and disappear on the highway, turning off onto clay roads with washed-out shoulders and deep ruts from all of the rain over the summer. Your sister had mentioned the house she was renting was nearly impossible to get to when the rain was bad.

A green sign that says Kill Devil City Limits passes by. No welcome sign, no little plaque announcing the population. Your music skips in and out, the connection to your phone weak. You switch to FM, flinching at the roaring static that comes through, finger jamming on the arrows to skip through to something passable.

Country. Country. Church. Country. Rock. Pop.

You leave it on the pop station, turning your eyes back to the road. A logging truck comes roaring up the hill, blasting by your sedan at top speed, making your car shake. Your heart squeezes in fear. You’ve passed over two dozen of them and they never drive any slower or any safer each time.

You’re going to kill Hanna if you find her lounging in her house, making you come all this way.

She had taken up a story there, investigating the town's eerie occult background for the media company that she worked for. Her editor had stopped receiving updates from her around the same time you’d stopped hearing from her.

When you called the landlord she was renting from, he was no help. Some idiot who owned seventeen houses dotted around the country, renting them out for twice the price they were worth.

The local police station had been worse. They’d done a wellness check several times after you called but insisted she wasn’t home. No signs of a break-in, no signs of a struggle. No reason to be missing. They refused to make it an official report, as there was no reason for her to be missing.

Have you considered she just doesn’t want to talk to you? they’d laughed on the phone.

It was a joke. Somehow you could not believe they refused to file a report, and you threatened to take it to the state police and anyone who would listen to you. The woman you had spoken to had chuckled then, her mirth sending a chill up your spine.

Have fun on hold, sweetheart.

You could not fathom how not a single person cared. Not the news, not any authority that you could get in contact with, and certainly not the lawyer you reached out to.

Let law enforcement handle it. Your pleas fell on deaf ears and it was like it didn’t even matter that an entire person was missing. You’d heard about the blunders of the law enforcement system before, but this was a new level of ignorance and oddity.

It was… unexplainable.

Which was why now, you were driving into the backwater town of Kill Devil in the southern part of the United States.

Dropping your speed down, you take the chance to look around. There are a few houses on the outskirts of the town, their yards sprawling with kudzu and their homes leaning heavily with brown vines climbing up the eaves. There are several old, broken-down trucks in the middle of the kudzu fields, swallowed by the invasive vine-like devil’s snare.

You’d heard of one-stop-light-towns but you had never seen one without. Kill Devil is made up of all stop signs. Everything is built around the courthouse, a red brick building dropped in the middle like a fungus growing its roots outward.

The sheriff’s office is just across the street with Crown Victoria model patrol cars. A taxidermist is right next door, the gold cursive font on the front of the glass door telling you it’s been there since the 70s.

Kill Devil has everything you expect. Antique shops with dusty windows and dry-rotted awnings, a convenience store that looks straight out of retro America, closed-down shops with empty shelves and shattered glass, and a single diner with station wagons and mud-slicked trucks in the parking lot.

A single motel stands at the edge of the town center. When you pull into the parking lot, you look up at the sign and frown. Like something out of a horror movie, the Lodging Motel is missing several letters in long-burnt-out neon, three letters blinking in the fading afternoon sun: Lodging Motel.

Die.

With one look at the crusted, three-paneled windows and mold-covered brick face, you think that you just might die.

Pink sun sinks behind the rolling hills of pine. You get out of the car, stretching and popping your joints as you look at your lodging with a sour taste in your mouth. You pass the ‘vacant’ sign as you walk to the small square building at the end with ‘front office’ on the window.

“Yeah no shit,” you mutter. You cannot imagine who would stay here out of anything but necessity.

In fact, it seems like there is no one staying at the hotel. This fact makes you jumpy as you approach the office, which is just a clerk's window and a woman with sunken eyes and a scowl on her face watching you. You swallow thickly as you give her a weak smile and nervous wave, trying to get past the sudden anxiety trembling in your hands.

“Hi,” you say. “I have a reservation for-”

A small window that’s about six inches tall and a foot wide pops open. She hacks, fluid-sounding and phlegmy before saying, “I can’t hear you with the damn window closed. What do you want?”

You clench your jaw. Slowly, you begin again. “I have a reservation.”

“ID and credit card.”

You slide the materials through the window. She holds them up close to her face, scrutinizing them. Crickets join the singing of the locusts. Mosquitos fly around your head and you cringe, swatting at them as you wait while she rolls her chair over to a cabinet.

Wordlessly, she puts your credit card on a manual credit card imprinter. You raise your brows, unsure of the last time you’ve seen someone do paper credit card printing instead of sliding it through a machine.

While you wait, you look past her into the office. It’s dingy inside but you can see a box TV and a window unit air conditioner rattling in the window. There are metal cabinets that form their own little skyscrapers around her office. An episode of I Love Lucy plays on the fuzzy TV screen.

“Here’s your room key.” She tosses it through the window. It’s room three, the key hanging on a diamond-shaped, acrylic keychain with Lodging Motel written in Sharpie. “We don’t got room service or maid service. If you need more towels, the launder-mat is down the street. Don’t run the hot water more than twenty minutes or so. If the AC ain’t on, hit ‘er a few times.”

“Great,” you deadpan. “Anything else?”

She scowls. “Mind the raccoons. They got rabies.”

“Thanks.”

Inside the room is just as expected: peeling wallpaper, red shag carpet with questionable stains and the unmistakable stench of cigarettes, sconce lighting with lampshades that look decades old, a twin with a horrible patterned blanket, frayed at the edges and moth-eaten, and a single, square dresser with a box TV on top and a white, corded phone.

The bathroom is no better. The tub is stained with limescale, cracked tiles, and a lamp that buzzes when you flip it on. You scream when you see the massive roach hanging out in the tub, gagging and running out to look for anything to kill it with.

You settle on a sneaker, and it’s a battle involving your high-pitched scream as you try and kill it. You do win, but you’re covered in sweat and shaking after your victory.

A sharp knock on the door startles you further. You drift to the front door, looking out the peephole to find that it is cracked and you cannot see the person standing just on the other side. You slide the chain lock in and open the door tentatively, peering out into the now early night.

“Everything okay?” a male voice asks. “I heard screaming.”

The voice belongs to someone who absolutely does not belong in Kill Devil. He’s dressed in jeans with large rips at the knee and a plain white shirt that hangs off his frame stylishly. He has a few necklaces on, a single hoop hanging from his right ear that catches the flickering parking lot light.

And he’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that stuns you. He has a slender face with smooth, flowing skin. His eyes are kind, glittering brown with flecks of lighter shades throughout. The slope of his cheekbones and jawline makes you think perhaps he’s into modeling, which would explain the taste in clothes.

But it does not explain what someone who looks like that is doing in this shithole town.

“I had to kill a roach,” you admit, a little hesitant. Your skin tingles under his gaze, your instincts picking up something that you can’t put your thumb on. “I don’t like them very much and it was fast.”

“Disgusting. I had to buy killer for them - it came in a two-pack if you want?” You don’t answer, watching him warily. He picks up on your anticipation and smiles, disarming. “Sorry - my name is Hoseok. You can call me Hobi, if you’d like. I’m staying next door which is just as gross as your room is I’m sure. I heard you yell and I got worried.”

“That’s kind of you. This doesn’t seem like a place where people would care if they heard screaming.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not from here.” He looks around the parking lot and his eyes focus on a raccoon meandering near the trash. You grimace, thinking about rabies. “Thank fuck, this place feels right out of fucking Deliverance.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling better at his distaste. “One sec, let me slide the lock off.” You close the door and slide the chain before opening it a little wider this time. “Yeah, this place gives me the creeps. Hopefully, I don’t have to be here long.”

“A night is long enough. You want that spray?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Hoseok grins and holds up a finger, asking you to wait as he jogs to his room. He’s only gone for a moment, leaving you in the poorly lit lot with the tk tk tk of the raccoon pilfering through trash and the crickets creek creek creeking.

Hoseok’s door opens and he’s back, handing you a large, red can of lemon-scented Raid. “Just make sure you drown them. They did outlive the dinosaurs. Makes you wonder what the hell is in that stuff.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem…” He drifts off, unsure what your name is. You laugh, a little flustered by the way his entire face lights up when he smiles, and give him your name. “I like it. Well, I don’t know how long you’re here, but I’m your neighbor for a few days. Try not to catch any infections while you’re in there and holler if you need me.”

“Thanks,” you grin. You hold up the can and add, “Especially for this.”

With a wave goodnight, Hoseok returns to his room. The buzz of something instinctual fades with him, replaced once more with the unsettling frequency the town seems to vibrate at.

Closing the door firmly behind you and flicking the lock, you shiver. The eerie feeling that had been following you lingers.

After changing the sheets, inspecting the rest of the room and setting the spray can firmly on the pillow next to you, you lay on your back in bed, mattress lumpy and air conditioner rattling.

Moonlight streams through the curtain, catching dust motes floating in the air and turning them into diamonds. You stand in the middle of the room. Cold but humid air clings to your skin, the air conditioner rattling and dripping as it cools the room but does nothing to suck out the moisture. You don’t know why you’re standing in the middle of the room and you don’t remember waking up and getting out of bed, but you face the window, the curtains open just enough to face the empty parking lot.

Silence blankets the world. The hum of the air conditioner fades and you stare out into the silver-painted parking lot. Above the lot, a street light flickers on and off weakly. It goes out for a minute and flashes back on.

Someone leans against the pole. You can’t make out any features, just that there is a person there, perhaps facing you. The hair on your skin stands on end but you can’t move. Your instincts begin to prickle and there is a sharp feeling in your chest.

Belatedly, beyond your hypnotized stare, you realize the feeling is fear.

Your ears start to ring. You stare out at the shadow and the shadow stares back. Something is telling you to run run run but you don’t know how. Can’t move your feet. Panic begins to rise, your heart beating so fast that you can hear it over the steady whine in your ears.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thumpthumpthumpthump.

You can feel your pulse skyrocketing, your chest squeezing tight with terror as the beating gets louder and louder -

Awareness hits you like cold water. You lurch forward in bed, hands flying to your chest as you gasp for air. It takes a moment to get your bearings, the pounding in your heart so hard it feels like you might vomit. Battling the sheets, you rip them off of you, legs sticky with a sheen of sweat.

The lamp is still on in your room, the curtains are closed just the way you left them, and the bug killer rolls on the bed as you get up. Several paces away from the window, you catch your breath, running a hand over your face.

“Fuck,” you pant, realizing you were dreaming.

When your breathing levels out, you glance at the closed curtains. Something niggles at your brain. Slowly, you walk toward the window, feeling the hairs on your arms tingle and stand on end.

Lifting your shaking hands, you grip the curtain tight. Taking a deep breath, you hold it in and pull open the curtain just a bit.

Unlike your dream, there’s no moonlight outside. It’s so dark you almost can’t see anything in the parking lot. When the lot light flickers back on, your heart squeezes, expecting to see a shadow leaning against the pole. There’s nothing there, just empty lot and a dumpster. Not even the raccoon is around.

Blowing out your held breath, you close the curtain again and shake out your hands, trying to get rid of the jitters. Rolling your neck and shoulders, you try to work out the tension as you sit on the end of the bed, staring at the faded wallpaper.

The dream felt so real. You swear that if you turn your head, you’ll see silver moonlight through the curtains. That you’ll see that person - that shadow - standing outside of your window.

Exhaustion weighs heavy on you. You crawl back into bed, mattress damp and smelling like mildew even with the sheets that you put on it. You’re under a lot of stress and you hate this motel room as much as you already hate this town that you’ve barely started to explore. It makes sense that you’re having weird dreams.

Blanket pulled up to your chin, you eventually let your lids flutter shut until you’re taken by dreamless sleep.

Morning sun chases away the dregs of your strange dream from the night before. With daylight streaming between the curtains, the room looks no better. It’s a futile hope, perhaps, to keep thinking that the room will suddenly not look nearly as questionable as when you checked in.

At least there are no bugs.

Outside, the balmy air is filled with the voices of the locusts. You lock the door behind you and glance toward where Hoseok vanished the night before. His windows are closed and there’s no sign of him anywhere in the parking lot, so you head to your car, stomach begging for food.

Kill Devil is small in both size and population. The Diner is easy to find, tucked in the southwest corner of the town across from the courthouse. Folks wander about the parking lot, shaking one another’s hands and laughing as the weekend rush of people meanders up the steps for breakfast.

Your arrival is noted immediately. Eyes turn your way as you walk through the lot, loose gravel crunching under your feet. The lot is more packed dirt than pavement, full of holes and mud softened by rain.

Seeing a new face in a wretched little town like this probably isn’t common. Though you’re not familiar with growing up in such a small population, you remember what it was like knowing everyone at school. The same theory applies here when a portly man with raised brows stands, screen door in hand as he stares at you.

The man blocks the way to the inside of the diner. You pause and look up, noting the confusion on his face. After clearing your throat, he realizes that he’s completely frozen from opening the door and coughs, bowing his head and apologizing.

“You uh - visiting?” he asks, holding the door open for you. When you nod, he seems surprised, though that had to be the only answer. “Well, that doesn’t happen often. Welcome to Kill Devil.”

There’s a small host stand with a pile of laminated menus on top. A girl who looks to be about your age stares back at you, wiping her hands on a red apron tied around her waist. She’s in jeans and a t-shirt that says The Diner across the chest, her hair pulled up and stabbed through with a pen.

“Just you?” she asks, eyes fluttering to the man who shrugs behind you. You nod. “Right this way.”

The wooden walls are painted white, some of the paint peeling. There are miscellaneous animal heads with plaques underneath stating the names of their killers with a stamp of Jason’s Taxidermy. You try not to make eye contact with their black, glass eyes as you sit in a chair that wobbles from side to side.

You thank the hostess as she wanders off to get you coffee. The family at the table next to you does their best to whisper about who the hell is that as you look over the menu, flipping it to the breakfast side. The laminate is sticky and peeling at the corners.

It’s a pretty standard breakfast menu. You put it down on the table, nudging the container holding different colored sugar packets and sweeteners while you wait for your coffee. There’s a breakfast bar with people bent over steaming eggs and sitting atop cracked vinyl seats.

The door opens behind you at a steady rate as people pay their bills and leave while new customers are sitting. A presence at your back sends a cool tingle up your spine, making you straighten and look over your shoulder.

Hoseok stands in a shaft of sunlight coming through the window, turning him gold. For a moment, the diner around you falls to a hush of murmured voices, muting the clinking of spoons against ceramic and scraping chairs.

He’s dressed well again, in a simple white button-up with the button undone to reveal a strip of golden chest. His hair is slightly damp and styled back, an outrageously good look on him. The same hoop earring dangles in his ear but today he has on a few necklaces and rings on his fingers. Somehow, he makes the delicate pieces carry an edge.

“You survived the night, huh?” he says by way of greeting and then gestures to the chair across from you. “Would you mind company for breakfast?”

You shake your head, forgetting words for a moment as he smiles, radiant as ever. Hoseok pulls out the chair and sits down, a twinkle in his eye that makes your heart flutter as he plucks a menu from the holder at the center of the table. You can smell his rain and lavender scent from across the table.

“Thanks again,” you say, realizing you haven’t spoken yet. His brown eyes look at you over the top of the menu, and you can’t help but admire how beautiful they are. Warm, both dark and light, with flecks of chipped gold. “For the bug killer. I haven’t seen any more but I just know they’re there.”

“That’s the shitty thing about the South. All of God's least favorite creatures are here.” He glances at the table of scowling men next to you to emphasize. You hide your laughter with the plastic menu. “What brings you to this shit hole?”

“I’m… visiting my sister.”

“You sound unsure of that. Does she not know you’re coming?”

“She doesn’t.”

While they aren’t technically lies, you don’t know how much you can trust him. Instinct makes you hold the truth from him. After all, you don’t want him to know you’re in a town where no one knows you, and where no one knows you are. By yourself.

Hoseok looks at you again, his eyes narrowed. You feel tension creep into the air between you, your mouth drying out as he watches you silently.

The arrival of the hostess who is also your server saves you from another question. You both place your order, and you note the way the girl cuts her eyes to Hoseok, wary. Her hands shake a little.

When she leaves the two of you, you ask, “How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks.”

“Enough to win over the locals, hmm?”

His grin is sly as he drums his fingers on the table. “I’m their favorite - you’re perceptive.”

“My sister is an investigative journalist. She’s made me watch all kinds of shows and read books about psychology and body language with her. I picked up a few things.”

“An investigative journalist, huh?” Hoseok plucks a sugar packet and rips it open with his teeth. He shoots the ripped piece onto the table with a huff of air and dumps the contents on the table. Leaning on one elbow, he begins to trace patterns in the sugar. “So you’re not from here. No one here is smart enough for that.”

“No, she’s been living here since July.”

“What’s she investigating?” You hesitate again. He doesn’t look up from the patterns he’s tracing on the table, finger steady as it cuts through the white sugar.

“I don’t really know.” He does look up when you say that, gaze razor-sharp. A chill slides up your spine. So you add, “Something to do with the occult.”

Hoseok stops moving his finger through the sugar. He doesn’t look at you, but he’s fixated on the mess he’s made on the table. You chew on your bottom lip, eyes dropping to his little sweetened artwork. You don’t understand the pattern that he’s traced, but it buzzes your brain when you look at it.

The silence stretches on. He remains unmoving and silent. Anxiety starts to creep in and you wonder if he thinks you’re crazy or is going to get up and leave-

With a huff of laughter, he leans back and smiles at you.

“The occult huh? Interesting subject.”

“Know anything about it?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, what is really considered occult? Most of these Bible thumpers around here would consider being queer witchcraft.”

“You have a point there. Don’t tell them I’m a witch.”

He grins. “You can join my coven, then.”

“Do you think they know there’s more than two genders?”

Hoseok’s laugh is infectious. You laugh along with him, visibly ruffling the feathers of the table next to you.

For a moment, the two of you share a secret smile at your little table, wedged between the people who go to church every Sunday and swear by Fox News at brunch. It feels good to know you’re not the only person completely out of place in Kill Devil.

The arrival of your server with steaming plates breaks the moment, but you feel better about your morning nonetheless. Especially when the conversation switches from stilted exchanges about your sister and the occult to things about you and Hoseok.

Over runny eggs on toast and crunchy bacon, you learn that Hoseok is a shop owner in a small town very far from Kill Devil. He brushes over the fact that he’s visiting family to tell you all about his small corner of the world and all of his favorite plants.

“Fiona is a venus fly trap,” he giggles with a snap of bacon. “She’s my second favorite, but what I really love is my pitcher plants. They eat bugs, mostly, but they like to devour frogs too. The frogs love to hide in them, but sometimes the pitcher plants take kindly to them and don’t eat them. It never lasts.”

“I would hate for them to eat the frogs.”

“Hmm, circle of life.”

“But the poor frogs!”

Hoseok isn’t swayed. “There has to be a balance to everything. The pitcher plants will kill the frogs eventually. Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey. Their ecosystem doesn’t make sense. In order to pay back the food the pitcher plants bring them, the frog must die. It pays for power, in the end.”

“How do you mean?”

“Everything has a give and take.” He pauses to sip his coffee. He makes a face, opens a sugar packet, and empties it into the coffee. “In order to have life, we must have death. In order to have water, we must have fire, for earth, we must have air. There is a give and take in existence, and it has to stay that way.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“Chaos.”

“You know, a lot of theology believes that chaos created the world.”

“And perhaps it did. But in order to make the world, chaos needed…” Hoseok takes his butter knife in one hand and sticks out his pointer finger with the other. You watch as he places the knife horizontally across his finger, sliding it just so until he slowly lets it go, leaving it teetering back and forth, but never falling. “Balance. There has to be even weight on the scales to make it work.”

“Interesting. So you think there is true balance in the world.”

“Not always, which is why we must make it.”

“Hmm. You have some interesting opinions.”

“I am an interesting person.”

You like Hoseok. Conversation flows easily and it seems that he either doesn’t notice or does not care that he draws glances around the room, particularly when he gives a high-pitched laugh, leaning backward on the metal legs of his chair to clap his hands excitedly. You swear you see the table next to you flinch, though you can’t imagine why.

Hoseok insists on paying the bill, though you fight him all the way to the register. The elderly woman behind the till jams the pricing in from the ticket and slams the cash drawer shut when Hoseok hands over the bills. She makes sure not to tell you to have a good day, and you feel her sharp stare as you leave the interior of The Diner.

In fact, the stares of the citizens are just as intense outside. Hoseok rattles on about a time he got really high and forgot to feed his cat. “Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”

“What?” you ask, distracted by the way a group of men leaning against a red pickup glare. “Your cat talks?”

“Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”

“No, but I’m sure he was very vocal.” Hoseok smirks, toeing the gravel of the parking lot as you reach your car. You glance over at the pickup truck again, seeing the four sets of eyes fixated on the two of you. “Why does everyone around here stare?”

“They’ll ignore you soon enough if you ignore them.”

“They don’t seem to ignore you.”

He gives you a wry smile. “I guess you’re right. Going to visit your sister, then?”

Digging around in your bag, you search for keys. “Yeah, she lives out in some place called Grave Hollow. How creepy is that?”

Silence is your only answer. You look up, pausing the search for your keys to find him staring at you with a blank expression. Your heart skips a beat - it’s the same wiped-clean face he had when you mentioned your sister investigating the occult.

Licking your lips, you ignore the feeling of a weighted stone dropping into your stomach. Hoseok says nothing.

Then, he’s chipper again. “Well have fun,” he chirps, shrugging and giving a wave as he backs away to leave. “Hopefully she has some cool occult stuff to tell you about. You know where to find me!

It’s hard to keep track of the way Hoseok’s mood flips on a dime. You stare after him, but he’s all smiles and sunshine again before turning on a heel to walk out of the parking lot. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he tilts his face toward the azure sky, whistling a tune with a happy cadence.

Something sticks to you as you watch him leave. You don’t know what it is, this feeling that you’re missing a critical detail. It’s like your instincts are scratching lightly at the door, but you have no key to flip the lock and no crowbar to force it open.

Anxiety returns when you remember the weight of the eyes still focused on you. Hurriedly, you snatch your keys from your bag and get in your car, tossing your bag on the seat and starting the engine. As soon as it purrs to life, you feel instant relief.

You hope that it lasts.

According to the research you’d done on Kill Devil, the town had been officially founded in the 1700s. Of course, being ‘officially’ founded didn’t mean much in the way of Western colonization. You had little doubt that the migration of people to the South chased out Native American tribes, as was the story everywhere.

Kill Devil has been named such since its inception, which occurred a little after Georgia had been named an official state. The abundance of soil for cotton and peanut fields made it a wet dream for the expansion of cotton gins and eventually, peanuts - there was even a rumor that peanut butter had been invented in Kill Devil first, but you knew that to be untrue.

A small town with a small impact. That was Kill Devil at the heart of its existence. It has always had a small population of sleepy folk. No stop lights, one church, a lot of paper companies coming in and cutting down trees, and some farming fields for various reasons.

There’s no reason that for a tiny little dot on the map, the town should be significant.

And yet it had called your sister here.

The car bounces, the suspension whining as you drive down the dirt road. A clay wall comes up on either side of you, roots of trees sticking out periodically. There’s no shoulder to the road, the rain has deepened the ruts on either side. You’re careful to keep in the middle, slowing down as the road tightens on corners.

Pine stretches as far as the eye can see. You pass the occasional neon tape, marking sections of trees for the paper company to let grow a little longer before hacking them down. Several metal gates with keep out and declaring different hunting clubs flash by. There’s even a sign that says Rucker’s Meat Processing.

GPS is unreliable out in the sticks where the cell towers don’t quite reach. You keep an eye on the flattened paper map in the passenger seat, marked with your red marker to make sure you take the right road.

A sigh of relief escapes you when you see a little metal post with a turn-off sign: Kill Ditch South. The house that your sister is renting lives off of that, only a mile down the road or so. Long drives appear between the trees, houses parked at the end of them. You feel a little less alone in the woods now knowing that there are people around.

Though you’re not sure how helpful they would be if something was wrong.

Worry creeps into your stomach as you slow the car. There’s a little mailbox with the address your sister gave you. It’s at the end of a short drive that’s been layered with gravel to make the incline easier on tires. It crunches beneath the tires as you drive toward the modest, white house. Your sister’s Four Runner is parked outside, making your heart thunder.

Turning the car off, you slide out into the humid air, hands trembling. Locusts scream, hidden in the trees. The sun is at its zenith, beating down on you as you slowly walk toward the house. It’s a single-story with two sets of windows facing the front. A wrap-around porch that leans to the side stands empty, save for a single bench.

As you pass your sister's car, you notice that the grass underneath is dead and dry. As if the car hasn’t moved for a while, denying the grass any sun to live. It makes you feel nauseous, feet like anvils as you take your first step up the stairs.

The creak of the wood makes you flinch.

“Hanna?” You call, voice shakier than you want it to be. “Hanna, it’s me! Don’t freak out!”

No one answers. Your stomach bubbles like acid, the slow drip of sweat down your neck making a chill rattle up your spine. You reach the door and swallow thickly, lifting your hands and knocking loudly.

“Hanna?”

Nothing but the sound of the locusts answers you.

Your palms feel sweaty as you knock again. This time, your voice cracks when you call, “Hanna? Please answer the door.”

Wind sweeps across the trees. One thing about the wind in a land of pines and hills is that it’s loud, making a whooshing sound as it’s picked up by the boughs of the trees, rattling and letting their needles shake to the floor.

It’s cool at your back and you feel your lip wobble when you lower your hand to the doorknob. When you twist, the door opens immediately, swinging of its own volition when you let go.

Inside the house is the kind of silence that terrifies you in horror movies. The air is heavy. Your ears ring, searching for any rasp of sound to tell you that your sister is home. Licking your lips, you step over the threshold, the wooden floor cracking beneath the weight of your feet.

To the immediate left of the door is an open kitchen. There are dishes on the dry rack and plants in the window, though they are wilted and dry. You chew your lip as you step further into the house, eyes sweeping around.

A blue, painted table stands in the middle of the kitchen. Piles of mail sit on top of it with a fake plant centerpiece and your sister's car keys.

Across from the kitchen is an open doorway with a stacked washer and dryer, and a folding table. It smells faintly of detergent, clothes folded in neat piles as if Hanna had just completed a laundry day.

Everything is silent in the living room. The couch looks cozy, with piles of blankets draped across it. There’s a faint smell of vanilla, though the wick on the candle doesn’t look like it’s been lit in a while. Dust collects on the TV stand and there are sandals by the door that leads to the back porch.

Chewing your lip, you gently press your fingers to the door of Hanna’s bedroom, holding your breath. The sudden fear that it’s going to swing open and you’ll find your sister dead in her bed nearly incapacitates you, making the room spin a little as the door fully swings open.

Nothing. No Hanna, no rotting smell of a dead body. Just an unmade bed in a room that smells vaguely of her cherry perfume, a bathroom with the door open, and a pile of clothes near the hamper.

The sight of the clothes on the floor and right next to the hamper slams you with a wave of nostalgia. You walk into the room and you unceremoniously plop yourself down on the edge of the bed. It sags underneath you but you don’t care, letting your face fall into your hands and letting a sob rip through you.

Hanna isn’t here. You knew she wouldn’t be, but the relief that you don’t find her dead is so poignant that you can barely breathe past the snot clotting your nose and the way your throat constricts as you let out the fear.

The sobs subside and you wipe your face, hands coming away sticky and wet. Through swollen eyes, you look around the room. With a wipe of your hands on your jeans, you get up and start looking around, pulling open drawers and looking for evidence of the last time that Hanna was in this home.

It’s slow going. You’re unfamiliar with the space and you don’t know what to look for. It doesn’t seem like she had packed anything, but then again, how would you know if she did?

There are signs that she hasn’t been in the house in weeks. Rotted food inside of the fridge, molded bread in the pantry.

Outside, weeds grow around the steps. A cricket pops from the railing to the grass where its green body vanishes. The yard isn’t much of a yard - it’s open to the trees and a kudzu field to the west.

Back inside, you grab Hanna’s keys and open her car. There is nothing inside that looks like she was trying to make a quick getaway. An extra pair of shoes shoved in the back, and an empty grocery bag she was using for trash - all normal things.

In the passenger seat, you strike gold.

Hanna’s journals and folders sit in the passenger seat, stacked in a leaning tower with pages sticking out from the edges of her books and slanted handwriting scrawled on the folder tabs. Gathering all of it, you head back inside and deposit the stack on the kitchen table before looking around the house again to see if there’s any sign of her.

Something in your gut tells you that Hanna hasn’t been in the home for at least a month, if not more.

Dread creeps into your stomach as you gather items and pack a bag. Your intention is to keep it on you at all times in the event that you find her cold and alone somewhere. The thought of needing it leaves a sour tang on your tongue, but you pack it nevertheless.

Bag over your shoulder and stack of Hanna’s investigative work in hand, you head off to your room at the motel. The afternoon sun still burns hot over your head, but you have no intention of sitting in the empty house that carries the scent of your sister’s absence.

… While most historical accounts and official state documents indicate that Kill Devil was founded in 1730, journals buried deep in the city’s crumbling library have written records of townsfolk living in this settled town long before it was declared an official town. The journals reference the town as Covenstead and are filled with generations of the same family names.

Booth.

Park.

Warren.

Kim.

Jung.

Jeon.

Min.

Generations of these families settled in Covenstead and built what is now Kill Devil. From the description of the town in the collection of journals, it appears that the general layout of the town is similar to Kill Devil’s current city map.

Throughout the journals, there is a reference to the Wood. It seems to be a place mentioned in reverence, and there are allusions to celebrations in the Wood with entries dated in alignment with sabbats on the Wheel of the Year.

Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe seeing him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter.

Your finger traces over your sister’s writing. She still writes in her cramped, crooked way, with the sabbats of pagan holidays crammed in the margins. You smile, biting your bottom lip again as you go through the written notes of her study. It is dizzying and you’re unsure what exactly you’re looking at, but something tickles the back of your mind as you reread the entry she copied from the long-dead Yoongi Min. There’s something you're missing.

This time, your eyes snag on a word.

“The Covenstead,” you murmur, reading it over again. “Why would he call it the Covenstead? Is that just an older way of speaking?”

A tingle pricks your neck as you stare at the entry. You can’t understand what made your sister think this entry was odd besides the old-fashioned writing and reference to Mabon, because she writes nothing more on her analysis, and none of the journals she had been studying were anywhere you could find.

Sighing, you push away her notebook and pull out a collection of folders and papers that she had on the town. It’s mostly renderings of the town in its heyday with maps and newspaper articles. There seems to be no correlation between her clippings of new business openings and random town news.

Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building

Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies

The Grove Neighborhood Building Plans Accepted by Mayor

Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident

Something catches your eye in the article about the mayor’s son who fell into a well and died at the bottom. You reach for your sister's notebook and flip to read the small dates shoved into the margins.

Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident

June 19, 1781

Litha: Summer Solstice

June 19-23

Grabbing the other newspaper clippings, you climb off of the bed and lay them flat against the sheets, each crinkling under the excited press of your fingers as your brain whirs. It’s a puzzle your sister seems to have figured out already, and one you don’t expect to understand.

But you do.

Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building

February 14, 1899

Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies

March 19, 1899

Ostara: Spring Equinox

March 19-22

You suck in a breath as you look at the next clipping, using your pointer finger to keep your place on the sabbats calendar your sister has written down to see that the article for the new neighborhood The Grove is dated only a month before the mayor's son fell tragically in the well.

“Holy shit, Hanna,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your mouth and staring with burning eyes at the dates. “They match with pagan rituals? Something good, followed by something bad… like revenge? Punishment? Payment?”

The question bothers you. A flutter in your gut tells you that you’re asking the right questions as you stare at the pages, unseeing and trying to understand what your sister is getting at. She didn’t write down her thoughts explicitly - in case anyone stole her work, she’d said - and now you’re wishing she weren’t so paranoid. Or that she at least used a computer.

It isn’t an easy answer to puzzle out. An ache has settled deep in your temples and your half-eaten dinner has long gone cold. You decide you’ve earned a shower, though you don’t go into the bathroom without the bug spray armed and ready.

Briefly, you think about Hoseok. Such an oddity to the town. You can’t help but think about the way he changes from light to dark so quickly, face becoming shadowed and eyes masked, expression there and gone so quickly that you’re unsure if you saw it at all.

Strange. It’s all very strange.

There is a shadow in the parking lot again. This time, it’s closer. The bulb burning above the lot flickers, but stays on. The shadow stands just beyond the silver halo of light it distributes.

No moon hangs in the sky. It is dark dark dark - impossibly dark. You stare through a crack in your curtains, watching the shadow as it watches you. Dread weighs down the pit of your stomach and you feel a fresh wave of terror-laced nausea sweep through you.

You slide a foot backward gently, preparing to step away from the window. The shadow twitches and cocks its head to the side, not unlike a dog curious about something it’s heard. You suck in a sharp breath and hold it in, air screaming in your lungs, heart racing a frantic staccato.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck it seems to say, beating until it’s all you can hear and feel, pumping your system so full of adrenaline that you feel light-headed.

Your heart turns into a drum, frantic. It beats louder and louder and you feel rooted to your spot on the carpet, the soles of your feet surgical-stitched to the ugly shag carpet. You stare and stare and stare at the shadow and your heart is hammering so loud boom boom BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM-

Sweat-drenched and gasping for air, you sit up. Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it under the palm you have pressed against your chest. But the banging is coming from the hotel door, a steady stream of closed-fist hammering and Hoseok’s voice calling your name.

Peeling the covers back from your damp skin, you stumble to the door, nightmare-drunk and disoriented. You forget to remove the chain from the door, yanking it open and immediately slamming it to a stop as the chain pulls, refusing to let the door open.

Hoseok is on the other side, hair slightly disheveled, brows pulled together. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, a casual look by anyone’s standards but still effortlessly put together.

“Shit, hold on,” you slur, tongue heavy in your mouth with sleep. Closing the door, you slide the chain out, then reopen it successfully. “Sorry, is everything-”

“What’s going on?”

“What?”

His gaze is thunderous as he looks past you into your room. “You were screaming at the top of your lungs.”

Heat flushes your neck and face. “I-I’m sorry. I was having a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m not mad. What’s going on?”

In the shadow of the night, he looks dangerous, made up of edges and eyes narrowed. “Can I come in?”

You open the door and move out of his way. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Out of habit, you latch the door when you shut it.

Hoseok is a little out of place in your room. Even when dressed down, he looks like he belongs on a private jet, lounging among soft, polished leather and sipping exotic coffee. Not in a rundown motel room with peeling wallpaper and smoke-stained ceilings.

“What’s all this?” Your stomach plummets when he sees the journals and papers on your bed. you rush to shove it all under the blanket but Hoseok is fast, plucking a sheet of paper and looking over it, face pinched. “Is this what you meant by your sister studies the occult?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just um- looking over her work.”

“You know about the occult?”

“Not at all.”

He glances at you, razor-sharp. “Then why would you be looking it over for her?”

The atmosphere shifts. It occurs to you that he doesn’t know your sister is missing. Has no idea that you’re desperately trying to put together pieces of a broken puzzle, without any clue on where to find the remaining parts to view the entire picture.

You weigh the options of lying, losing precious time as the silence hangs heavy and awkward between the two of you. He watches, brows raised and expectant, fingers gripping the paper.

“My sister is missing.” It feels weird to say it. Your tongue feels heavy and as you stare over his shoulder at a fixed spot on the wall, it feels like someone else enters your body to tell him, “I came here because no one would help me find her. She was here studying the town's occult myths for work and vanished. I had this… horrible feeling when she stopped calling and answering.”

“Have you contacted the authorities?”

You scoff and throw a glare at him. “Of course I have. It’s useless and frustrating. No one seems to give a shit that there is a missing person, and every lawyer, law officer and city official I talk to don’t fucking care. It’s like they’re all programmed to give me the same answer. They keep telling me that they’ve seen her around or that she’s probably ignoring me on purpose. They make me seem crazy.”

You expect him to tell you to leave it to the authorities. That’s what Hanna’s boss had told you to do. No one seems to be alarmed, no one cares. But you do. Desperately. And you cannot wrap your head around them looking the other way.

You’re preparing for the same reaction when Hoseok surprises you by saying, “You’re not crazy.”

“I’m not?”

He quirks a brow and his rosebud lips twitch in a smirk. “Well, you probably are. But not for this. Have you asked around town about her?”

You shake your head. “I only went to the house that she was staying at. I wanted to see if maybe she really was ignoring me or maybe just… I don’t know. In the zone for work. She wasn’t there and it doesn’t look like there was any sign of distress.”

“Take me there.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” He tosses the papers onto the pile on your bed. “We’ll be safe.”

“First of all,” you hedge. “How do I know that? I barely know you. Second of all, what is going there in the middle of the night going to help?”

“I’m good at investigating. Maybe I’ll see something that you don’t.”

“Sorry, are you a cop now?”

“No, it’s hard to explain but I promise I’m trying to help you.” When you don’t move, Hoseok grimaces. “Look,” he explains evenly. “I really am trying to help you. I haven’t been entirely honest about why I’m here in this town. I came because I was also interested in some things happening here. Now I’m worried your sister is involved.”

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. “Involved how?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping it’s a coincidence. Believe it or not, those do happen. But I’d like to visit her house to see if there’s anything at all that sticks out to me.” You hesitate, chewing on your lip. You don’t really know him, and now you trust him even less with his reasoning. “Please,” he adds.

You relent. “Fine.” Hanna is your main goal. You don’t trust Hoseok, but you wonder if he really can help you when no one else has. “Let’s go.”

Damp air rushes through the open windows of your car. You lowered them as you got in for a quick escape if Hoseok attacks you while you drive. He says nothing in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the pine trees rushing behind you.

Outside, the world is painted night-blue from the moon. There’s a weird hue to everything, making it feel as though you’re wading with heavy limbs through a dream. It’s no better when you arrive at the dark house.

It looks terrifying at night. There’s no street light to guide you, only that of the silver moon and the bright halogen lights of your car. You turn off your vehicle but switch the headlights on, turning on the high beams to shine on the house.

On the edges of where the light fades to shadow, your fear lies. The trees look taller than in the daylight, their branches like craggy limbs and reaching fingers. Anxiety bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach.

Each crunch of the grass beneath your feet falls too loud against the heavy silence. Here, you notice that the crickets are no longer singing. It’s just the hush of the wind gusting through the canyons and the far-away swell as it blows up the hills.

Though it’s not cool outside, there’s a chill on your skin. Hoseok walks up to the house, the beams of the car’s headlights throwing his shadow across it in jarring, monstrous shapes. You keep your eyes focused on him and your keys tucked in your hand, ready to use them as a weapon if needed.

Hoseok doesn’t seem concerned about your anxiety or the silence thrumming around the home. He walks up the steps and opens the door, vanishing into the dark mouth of the threshold. For a moment, you stand in the front yard, getting tunnel vision as you stare at the darkness in the doorway.

You imagine stepping over the threshold into that cool dark, letting it suck you in. You imagine that as soon as your shoes hit the creaking floor, Hoseok will snatch you by the waist and pull you into the belly of the beast. Once in his clutches, he’ll throw you to the ground and the last thing you’ll remember is-

Hoseok reappears in the doorway. You blink and the waking nightmare melts away, so vivid that you’re shaking where you’re standing, looking at him in confusion. He hops down the stairs, scowling as he crosses the front lawn in a few long strides.

He pauses when he sees your face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“I…” you shake your head, trying to dispel the weird vision you had a moment ago. “Nothing. I just don’t like the dark very much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you find anything?”

His lip twitches. It’s almost impossible to detect, but you’re so focused on his face and trying not to picture him as the man in the terrifying thought you had moments ago, that you see it. “No.”

Lying. He’s lying. You clutch your keys and your breath quickens. He moves to round the side of the car and take the passenger seat, but you step in front of him. He pulls up short, eyes narrowing as you stand between him and the vehicle, blood pumping.

“I think you’re lying.”

“About what?”

“A lot of things.”

“What gives you that impression?”

“My instinct.”

He hums. “Instinct isn’t always a good thing.” He looks you up and down. “I didn’t find anything,” he says again. “I just got a really weird feeling inside of the house.”

“And?”

“And it’s the same weird feeling I’ve gotten in other places where people visiting went missing. Including the motel we’re staying at.” That makes you recoil. You feel the blood drain from your face, making you a little dizzy. You don’t know what’s going on, don’t understand what he’s getting at. “Your sister’s notes were about the covenstead here.”

That word again. The covenstead and not Covenstead, like a town name. “It was the town name before it was Kill Devil.”

“No,” he corrects. “It was a landmark. A covenstead, for people who lived here. A coven.”

“A coven.” He nods. “Like vampires and witches?”

Hanna’s notes had included all of those pagan holidays crammed in the margins of her work. Marking dates of occurrences that coincided with sabbat holidays. “Hoseok,” you say slowly. “Are you telling me that a bunch of witches live here and have kidnapped my sister?”

He regards you for a moment, eyes flickering up and down. His face is unreadable and dark in the night air, eyes shadowed and haunting. “That’s actually exactly what I’m saying.”

“Witches aren’t real.”

He frowns. “I can prove that they are.”

“How?”

He gestures to the car. “Let’s go.”

When you were younger, your sister always believed in magic. You remember spending all of October huddled on the couch with crocheted blankets, watching Halloween movies with the blanket pulled warm over scabbed knees, with popcorn-greased fingers tucked under heated thighs. Hanna always picked the movies - Halloween was her time of the year and you were happy to indulge.

Hanna’s choices were always superb. Hocus Pocus received more airtime than anything else, replayed between Halloweentown one and two, Practical Magic, The Witches and The Addams Family among others. Every night of the month was crammed full of magic and spells and haunted houses, sweetened by candy corn and Butterfingers.

Those were the nights that you loved the most. There was no fighting, no whining and crying over Hanna stealing your hair clips or you breaking her hair dryer. It was just the two of you, pressed skin-to-skin and spelled by the scrolling movies.

It’s as close to magic as you’ve ever been. You don’t think you were ever closer to her than in those moments. Under the blankets and the dim candles your mother lit, you were one being, melded. You knew when she would gasp at every jump scare and whisper each one of her favorite lines.

Thinking back on it, you wonder if Hanna was onto something. She always insisted that parts of the movies had to be true. Stories are rooted in history, and though myth and legend changed with culture, colonization and the introduction of new religions, science and ideas, there was something about the concept of magic and spirit that felt real to her.

It was why she went to school and majored in journalism with minors in folklore and history. She had even started a master's program for occult studies and folklore, spending late nights studying between traveling across the country from haunt to haunt for her job.

Staring at her work on the bed of your hotel room as Hoseok adds some of his own notes and findings, you have never missed her more. There is a sudden ache inside of your chest, so strong that it takes your breath away. Your hand goes to the necklace at your neck, feeling flushed, heart pounding.

Hoseok is explaining how there used to be a coven of witches that lived in the Wood long before Kill Devil existed. The Wood, Hoseok explains, is like a living and breathing conduit of power. It was something that gave the coven power but also needed to be fed.

The Covenstead. You remember the journal entry that had called it the covenstead. A place where witches commune and live together as one functioning body of magic. That much power does things to a place, skews the way the world works a little bit. He gives examples of places all around the world with similar experiences: the Bermuda Triangle, Door To Hell, Reed Flute Cave. All places where an abundance of magic and energy warps the way life functions.

But the Wood was strange before the witches got here. Hoseok rolls out a map, fingers tracing the lines of the city. Clarity snaps like a rubberband stinging against skin as you stare at it, lips parted, inhaling sharply.

The city roads make a pentagram, and at the very center is the courthouse.

“This is on purpose,” Hoseok explains. “There are other places in the world where the way the city or town or village is built is like a pentagram. Usually, these are called portals. They’re different from faerie rings which have their own power and distortions. These portals are for practicing witches and those who know how to use them.”

“Portals for what?”

“Creatures of great power that exist in worlds that don’t belong to us. Part of what gives witches their ability to perform magic is their energy. They are attuned to the world around them in a way that humans are not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you understand the concept of third and fourth dimensions?”

“Third dimension is what we live in,” you answer mechanically, somewhat familiar with the idea. “If a fourth dimension existed, we wouldn’t know because it moves in a way that we are unable to perceive. The fourth dimension, in theory, is movement and sight we would never have.”

“Exactly. But witches are attuned to that. These pentagrams,” Hoseok murmurs, tapping the map. “Are made to connect to the fourth dimension. Pentagrams are not inherently evil or even paranormal, but similar to sacred geometry, they… radiate at a frequency that other dimensions do. Powerful symbols like this have existed since Mesopotamia.”

“I… how does this prove that magic is real?”

For a moment, you’re distracted by the way Hoseok’s artful fingers pluck your sister's notebook from the bed. He flips until you’re looking at her journal entries and the newspaper clippings with dates and headlines.

“Witchcraft is different in every culture and part of the world. These holidays have roots in Celtic and Welsh craft. It was brought over by the pilgrims when people fled England and traveled here. This is old - not as old as whatever lives in the Wood, but old enough that it’s powerful. These dates you’re looking at? They’re sacrifices to keep the Wood powerful.”

“How do you even know all of this?”

“I’ve studied it my entire life.”

“Why?”

“It’s just something that runs in my family. We’re very spiritual people.” Something about the way his voice wavers makes you look at him sharply. Hoseok isn’t looking at you, busying himself with sifting through papers. There’s a pinch in your gut that makes you think he’s lying, but you’re afraid to push the matter.

“Get some rest,” he says, breaking your exhausted train of thought. “We can talk more in the morning when you’re not exhausted.”

“Yeah.” You rub your weary eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

With Hoseok gone, you crawl into the bed, leaving the light on, staring off into the distance as your hand clutches your necklace. Your lip trembles and your throat constricts painfully. When you close your eyes, you feel tears slide down your face.

Tucking your face into the pillow to hide your tears, you let out a small, aching sound. You just want to know where your sister is, and somehow you’ve landed in the middle of a hateful little town with strange little people and a strange little fantasy.

Crying is inevitable. But at least it puts you to sleep.

This time, you know you’re dreaming. You don’t know how you know, but you do. There’s a watery feeling to the hotel room when you open your eyes. As though you’re both there and you’re not.

You glance at the clock but the numbers are all wrong. You rub your eyes and look again, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t make sense of them.

You want to sit up. You move your arms - no, you try to move your arms. They don’t move, suddenly too heavy to slide under the covers of your blanket and peel it back. Panic sparks in you as you try to shift your legs, but though you can feel them, you can’t move them.

Terror as you’ve never known slides between your ribs, sharp and poignant. You can’t breathe and you know you’re dreaming and yet you can’t move. You close your eyes, brain repeating the same words over and over again: wake up wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP-

It doesn’t happen. You open your eyes and your room still has the dream-glazed light to it, and you still can’t move. Something shifts in your peripheral vision. Your heart seizes in your chest so sharply you think you’ll die.

You cannot turn your head to look at the shadow that moves just beyond your sight. Tears slip from your eyes, hot, wet and burning. You can’t wipe them. They blind you, turn your vision into an opaque, watery mess as something slides to the foot of your bed.

When you feel the mattress dip, you try to scream. The sound is locked in your throat, with so much force behind it that you wait for your vocal cords to explode. The fear is raw now, your eyes wild, tears leaking as you mentally thrash and thrash and thrash.

Weight shifts on either side of the bed and you have the sense that there is someone crawling on you but you can’t see beyond your crying, can’t hear beyond the pounding of your own heartbeat slamming in your ears, blocking out every other noise and-

Something invisible to you grips your throat. You still have the instinct to move, driving you to madness as your brain signals for your hands to fly to your assailant and yank and remove the hold on your neck.

It’s crushing. You gasp for air, no noise coming out as the grip tightens, and you know with certainty that this is it. Whatever dream this is will kill you, this time.

The realization that you’re going to die suddenly mutes the terror. It slides behind a glass door, beating its fists, but it's duller now. You have sharper clarity, and briefly you think of what Hoseok said about beings from the fourth dimension, and how the witches summon them through their craft here. To this place. Where you cannot perceive them.

You wonder if this happened to Hanna. You miss her, your sister, with big dreams and fast smiles and a head full of magic and wondering. This, you think, is how you go. And perhaps you’ll join her.

Thoughts blend together, sloshed wine in a glass. They’re warm and liquid and have no shape to them, no real purpose. It’s like you know you’re thinking, but you don’t know of what. Darkness pools at the edge of your vision. It feels cold and alone but you drift toward it, away from the pain.

And then you can breathe.

Air comes sweeping in, forcing its way into your mouth, into your lungs. Your lungs inflate so painfully that for a split second, you think they’re on fire. Oxygen burns its way through you and bursts of color explode on the canvas of your closed eyes - you don’t remember closing your eyes.

You roll over in bed, coughing, mouth wet with spit and phlegm as you try to gulp in as much air as you can.

High-pitched ringing whines in your ears, and there are muffled sounds on the other end of it. The motel room tilts back into vision, melting into place. You think that the room has reloaded into your world wrong - everything is crooked.

Then you realize you’re laying on your side, gagging and gasping for air. There is a hand against to your back, palm cold, fingertips freezing. The touch, you realize, feels full of energy, your spine tingling where it’s pressed against you.

Lurching away from the touch, you roll to the side of the bed, looking at the person whose hand had been pressed against you.

Hoseok’s tangled in the sheets, hair a mess, shirtless and in sweats. He’s panting, flushed, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his body. But it’s his eyes that stop you from scrambling away. They’re dark, burning like two pieces of coal as he looks at you, kneeling with his hands in his lap, palms facing the ceiling.

Hoseok says something. The ringing in your ears has just started to die down and you shake your head, unsure of what he means and not confident in your ability to speak.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck just happened to me?”

“This is my fault, I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

He lifts his hands and you flinch. The look on his face is pure heartbreak, shrouded in golden light. “Please,” he murmurs. “Let me help you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s quiet, save for the sound of the humming air conditioner.

Trust your gut, your sister had said.

So you do because he’s offered to help you thus far. You nod, giving him access to you. He sags in relief, shuffling forward tentatively as he takes your face in his hands. His palms are impossibly warm. Your eyes flutter shut at the touch, unable to look at him this close, this boy of light and something, as he cradles your face.

Warmth pools in your face, saturating down to your neck and chest. The ache in your lungs eases, and the lump in your throat continues to recede. You don’t want to ask what he’s doing. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel the terror of moments ago ever again, and with the way Hoseok is touching you, so close that his breath fans your brow, and you can smell him like rain and lavender, you want to embrace it.

There’s no thought process to the way you lean up into him. Your eyes are closed, your breath shaking as you seek him. Hoseok makes a surprised noise, but it vanishes as you press your lips against his.

Relief sweeps through you. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before, every drop of terror fading away, momentarily forgotten. Every ache vanishes. It’s just Hoseok and the way he burns brighter than the sun, and the way it doesn’t hurt anymore.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he kisses you back. It’s sweet and soft-lipped, his fingers pressing into the side of your face gently as he pulls you to him. You follow his pull, both physically and something like a tether, getting up on your knees to get closer.

Hoseok breaks the kiss, nose brushing yours. You open your eyes, half-lidded and feeling dizzy from just the gentle press of lips. His eyes are dark, but you see the light flecks of brown in them, like an entire world of sun and stars exist in their depths.

“Make it go away,” you whisper.

You don’t specify. The pain, the nightmares, the fear, the weird town, the worry about your sister. You want it all to stop and this person you barely know - you feel as though he can take it away. Or mute it.

He nods, eyes closing as he kisses you properly. You forget what you were worried about, and it’s all you can do not to fall headfirst into Hoseok. His mouth is warm and wet, tongue soft but greedy as he pries your mouth open, drinking you in.

Hoseok’s lips tingle against yours, sending a shiver skating down your spine. You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers tangling in the silky strands there. He hums appreciatively when your nails slow-scratch at the base of his scalp.

Carefully, Hoseok shuffles you into his lap. Your knees dip on the mattress on either side of his hips, straddling his waist. His hands find the hem of your sleep shirt and pull upward. You break the kiss, a string of spit connecting your flushed mouths before the garment breaks it.

The room is cold, air hitting your bare chest and hardening your nipples immediately. You whine but Hoseok is fast, pressing your chest to his as he attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking at the tender flesh sharply.

“Fuck,” you whisper, letting your head drop backward heavily. Your eyes are shut and the world feels like it’s spinning. He has one hand on your hip, the other on the small of your back, pressing you to him to keep you warm and to rock your hips gently into his. “Feels good.”

He hums in response, sucking wet stains onto your flesh as he moves toward your chest. You push your tits out to meet his searching mouth, gasping lightly when the rough drag of his tongue swipes across your nipple.

The sensation is overwhelming. Your fingers dig into the back of his neck as Hoseok sucks your peak greedily. You’re grinding into his lap on your own now, panties clinging to your hot, sticky folds as you seek friction. He’s hard beneath you and you want to feel him.

Letting you rut in his lap, Hoseok drags delicate fingers over the curve of your ass and thigh, and his nails leave goosebumps in their wake. The feeling between your legs and at the base of your spine is heady as he lets go of one nipple with a sharp pop, tongue tracing a sloppy line to the other.

Hoseok’s teeth tease the tight bud and you whine. “Oh?” he asks, voice rough and low. “Gonna be a baby about it?”

You shake your head, but your lip juts out as you look at him, dazed. “Want more.”

“Tell me.”

Dropping one hand from his neck, you take the hand resting on your thigh, guiding it between your legs. Hoseok presses the pads of his fingers to your underwear and you let out a keen. It’s not nearly enough, but the pressure sends another wave of arousal flooding through you.

“Hmm,” he hums, dragging his fingers back and forth over the damp cloth. “Soaked from just that, huh?” You nod and he bites your collarbone. Fuck, he’s going to kill you, sending another tremble down your frame. He hooks a finger in your underwear, sliding against your glossy folds experimentally and he curses, “Fuck. Pussy is already messy and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please.”

“What do you want? I already asked.”

“More.” Hoseok presses your clit, letting you drip onto his fingers, but he doesn’t move them. You grit your teeth. “Want your fingers,” you ask through clenched teeth. “Fuck me with them, anything. Please.”

He grins, face wicked before he kisses your nose. “See, you just had to tell me.”

You’re tense as he pulls your underwear to the side, shoving the fabric against your thigh. Cool air hits your cunt. You can’t recall ever wanting someone like this, vibrating uncontrollably as he traces your slit with his fingers, lazily circling your clit.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you drop your forehead on Hoseok’s shoulder. He lets you sag against him as he plays with your pussy, fingers barely dipping to tease your hole and gather juices before coming back to trace your clit, applying delicious pressure.

It feels so good. It’s mind-numbing, letting him do what he wants. Hoseok pants in your ear, breathing stilted between chaste kisses against the side of your head.

Painfully slow, Hoseok inserts a single finger into your wet heat. The sound you let out is high-pitched and loud. It’s not nearly enough, but you lose all sense of asking for more as his finger slides in deep, pressing against your front wall to massage that delicate spot inside of you.

“Oh shit,” you stutter, unable to help it.

He laughs, voice deep when he asks, “Yeah? That the spot?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He slow-drags his finger in and out of your pussy, fucking you slowly. He curses, teasing you only for a moment before he gifts you another. The stretch is so much better, and you melt. He thrusts leisurely, not hard and fast but deep. Your walls swallow his fingers, gripping them and begging him not to stop as a tight coil winds in your stomach as he presses hard against your g-spot.

It’s messy, the wet drag of his fingers in your cunt. You feel the slow drip of arousal every time he pulls back, soaking his hand. It drops down your thighs as he picks up the pace. You lift your hips a little, adding a bounce to his motions.

“Oh? You wanna do it?” He stops moving his hand and you let out a desperate sound. He laughs. “No, go ahead. If you’re so eager, do it yourself. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Seeking balance by holding his shoulders, you grip him tight, face tucked in his neck as you maneuver yourself, using your knees to lightly fuck yourself on his fingers. It feels so good, and you adjust the angle until you feel him hit that spot again, making you see stars.

It’s electric, this feeling rippling in your bloodstream. It feels different with Hoseok and you can’t place why, but your orgasm is building so sharply in your stomach that you nearly stop thrusting, overwhelmed by the sensation.

The pressure in your stomach winds and winds and winds until it snaps, every muscle in your thighs and ass squeezing tight, your hands turning to an iron grip, breath stuck in your lungs as you let out a strangled sound, squeezing Hoseok’s fingers as you come.

Hoseok is whispering something in your ear, but you can’t hear him over the thundering heartbeat of your pulse, shaking as you come down from your high. When you do, you’re vaguely aware that he’s pulled his fingers out, but he’s massaging the tight ring of muscles, making you shiver.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Wanna see you stretch yourself on my cock like that.”

“Wanna,” you mumbled.

Your limbs are heavy and lazy as you shuffle, uncoordinated. Hoseok laughs, finding you endearing as you scowl and shift off his lap. His touch is featherlight as he pulls your panties off. You need him, completely naked and shivering as your eyes drop from the smooth, carved planes of his chest and abs to the heavy imprint of his cock in his sweats.

And the wet stain mess you’ve made.

Flushed, you watch as he looks up at you, smirking. “Go on.”

Scooting toward him with eager hands, you rest with your feet tucked under you. Dipping your touch below his waistband, you grasp him firmly, cock heavy in your hand. He sighs, head tilting back a little while you slide your grip along his shaft.

Brushing your thumb over his tip to collect hot, sticky precum, you spread it, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you stroke him gently, testing the waters. His hips twitch and his mouth parts, gold light of the lamp turning him into Giovanni’s Apollo. He is ethereal, a burning sun and you suddenly understand why Icarus flew to his demise.

Maybe you will too.

With your other hand, you push Hoseok’s sweats down. Though you could feel the size and swollen weight of him in your hand, it’s still a marvel when you see his thick length, dark tip oozing precum.

A hiss escapes his teeth when you give him a firm squeeze. He lets you pump him lazily, and your mouth catches the underside of his jaw, teething and sucking sharp marks into his skin. He tastes like something electric and a little bit of sweat, your tongue buzzing.

“Hmm,” he hums, fingers gripping the back of your neck to pull your mouth back up to his. It’s more spit and him gasping into your mouth more than anything. “You know how stunning you are?”

You feel heat creep up in your cheeks. Hoseok shuffles away from you and you let go of your grip on him, watching his dick slap against his stomach, smearing precum. He sits near the headboard, leaning against the wallpaper and staring at you with hungry eyes.

“You’re going to make me shy,” you say softly, though you still crawl toward him. You can feel the slick slide of your inner thighs. He pumps his cock lazily, giving you a look that says he doesn’t believe you. “You’re pretty.”

“Think so?”

You nod, a little light-headed and uneven. You tilt toward the side and he catches you, hands sticky from your mixed arousal. Bending down, you capture his lips. Hoseok runs the crown of his cock through your folds and you moan, lips parting. He drinks in your sounds, licking them from the roof of your mouth.

For a moment, it’s just the teasing and sloppy kissing, pausing to pant into each other's mouths, slick from sweat. He presses the blunt head of his dick into your hole, dipping only a little before retreating and sliding back up to tease your clit.

“Hoseok,” you growl, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the iron tang blooming in your mouth. He hisses out a laugh and does it again. This time, you lower your pussy, trying to catch him on an angle to sink down on him. “Stoooop.”

“Whiny baby,” he teases again. “Cock-hungry, huh?”

“Wanna be full.”

“Mmm.”

Hoseok repeats the motion, but this time lets you sink slowly on the length of him. The stretch stings, hurt-laced pleasure as you suck in a sharp breath and hold it. It feels like your lungs might burst, shaking as you slide down until your ass rests on his damp thighs and you feel the tip of his cock deep in your gut.

“Fuck,” you gasp, leaning forward, palms pressed to his shoulders. They slide a little, his skin warm and sweaty. You dig your nails in for purchase and he sucks in a sharp breath, but lets you claw your way back to sanity from the feeling. “Deep.”

His hands find purchase on your ass, digging in and massaging. “Come on, then. You were so eager for my fingers.”

You lift your hips a little, the slide delicious against your warm walls, and drop down with a wet smack. You both moan at that and you grin, putting the weight into Hoseok’s shoulders as you lift your hips again, hypnotized by the wet schlick of your cunt sliding on his length.

Everything fades away again. Your thighs burn as you increase your movements, chasing the buzz that has settled deep in your stomach. Hoseok lets you use him, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt drips into his lap.

His nails bite into the meat of your ass and you feel dragged under by the pleasure, the sting of his grip and the pressure of his cock hitting your g-spot sending you further and further.

Your legs grow a little tired, movements sloppy. Hoseok doesn’t mind, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting upward to meet you, hands supporting your weight under your ass. He helps lift you, pulling you up and down until you’re mumbling incoherently.

It feels mind-numbingly good, and the tension in your stomach grows taught and tight, your second orgasm oncoming.

“Come on,” Hoseok demands between clenched teeth. “Give it to me.”

You nod, sliding a hand between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure and speed to get you shaking again. White spots appear in your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut, letting him take over and fuck up into you, cunt gushing as you come hard enough around him that you fall forward.

Hoseok lets you lay on his chest, dead weight as he claws at your ass and thighs, rutting up into you. You’re dimly aware of the soaked mess of your smacking bodies, but your ears are ringing and you feel lighter than you’ve ever felt before.

You begin to whine in oversensitivity just as Hoseok slams into you as deep as he can, cock twitching and filling you up. You shiver as he grunts, hips bucking with a wet squelch as he gently fucks you through his orgasm.

Both of you lay there in a messy pile as his cock softens inside of you. Cum pools between your pressed bodies, but you don’t care. The room is humid, the light dim with the haze of how far gone you feel. Hoseok traces soft circles on your hips with his fingers. Your mouth is pressed against his jaw, breath kissing his skin.

You could fall asleep here, you think. It’s nice to forget for a while, to let your body feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, the shaking of his thighs against yours, the ache in your muscles.

Heaviness tugs at you, so close to pulling you under, but Hoseok stirs. You feel drunk, letting him peel the two of you apart until you’re stumbling to the shower. The air makes your tacky, cum-covered skin cold.

It’s hard to fit both of you in the shower, but you manage it, rotating under the rough spray of the hot water, hands exploring and kneading sore muscles. Your lips are abused and feel bruised, but it doesn’t stop you from seeking the comfort of his mouth, the world turning to static every time you kiss him.

The motel room smells like sex and sweat when you return to peel clothes back on. Wordlessly, Hoseok takes your hand and leads you to his room on the other side of the wall. It has the same faded wallpaper, the same dusty and stained lampshades, but it looks more lived in.

There are added pieces in the room. A dehumidifier hums in the corner, and there is a hamper full of clothes. Hoseok has added plants near the window, plasticky leaves vibrant green and shiny. Burnt-out incense sits on the plastic folding table he’s erected, books and papers splayed out over its surface. There’s a collection of crystals you can’t identify.

An inviting bed beckons you. You both fall into it, heavy-limbed and sighing. It smells like Hoseok, a mix of rain and lavender. There’s a sense of trepidation as you roll over on the mattress.

Carefully, Hoseok pulls you to him. He presses your back to his chest, one arm going under his head as he yawns and smacks his lips lightly, the other looping over your waist.

“No one is going to bother you,” he sleep-slurs. “I got rid of them. And they won’t go against me.”

You hum, sleep crawling up and stealing your thoughts. You wonder how he got rid of them and why they’re afraid of him.

It isn’t until he mumbles a response that you realize you’ve spoken your question out loud. “Because,” he sighs, words slow and soft, as he drifts off to sleep. “I told them you’re mine.”

Hoseok’s words are lost on you because you’re long asleep.

No dreams disturb you. When you wake up, you feel the weight of the night before on you. It’s cool and empty behind you as you startle, realizing you’d fallen asleep with Hoseok there. You look over your shoulder, blinking away sleep, and see that it’s just you in the dark room.

From the bathroom, you can hear the shower. You relax a little, groaning as you roll to your back and stare up at the popcorn-textured ceiling. Your thighs still burn with the soreness from the night before and you bite your bottom lip, trying to conceal your grin.

Gently, you bring your hand to prod at your neck where it had hurt so much last night. You remember the lock-limb nightmare, the feeling of needing to scream. The thought that you were dying.

Hoseok had saved you, but it begged the question of how. You remember asking him last night, but you cannot remember what he answered. You’re also surprised to find that you’re not in any pain from whoever or whatever had attacked you.

Unease turns your stomach but you decide to crawl out of his bed, wandering around his room. A salt lamp casts an orange glow on his makeshift desk. You’re drawn to the mess on top of it, looking at the stacks of books and frowning. They’re not in English - or any language that you know, embossed symbols and shapes on the covers and cracked spines.

Lifting a heavy, green canvas book, you flip it over in your hands. The edges of the paper are yellow and oxidized with time and there is a gold symbol pressed on the front. Your fingers trace the groove, remembering what Hoseok said the day before about sacred geometry.

Putting it down, you select another book. It has a pentagram on it. When you flip the book open, the pages are filled with slanted writing, diagrams, and shapes. You recognize sabbat dates and stop when you get to a picture of interlocking shapes. You trace the symbol absently, wondering what it means.

Why does he have books like this?

A current of electricity slides up the finger that’s tracing the symbol. You squeak in surprise and drop it, cringing at the loud clatter that it makes against the table. The shower flips off and you look at the shut door. Hoseok moves around before opening the door, sticking his head out. He’s dripping in water, hair slicked back, golden skin glistening.

Despite the night before, you avert your eyes, shy. He doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything, instead asking. “You okay?” He glances down at the books. “Good luck reading those.”

“Yeah,” you answer absently.

He grins. “Be out in a second.”

When Hoseok shuts the door, you feel unsettled. Rubbing your arms to fend off a sudden chill, you continue looking through the things on his table. There’s a small glass case with the exoskeleton of a frog. You cringe, thinking about Hoseok’s pet frog awaiting death in his pitcher plants.

Hoseok’s phone starts vibrating on the desk, making you gasp. Your hand goes to your chest, feeling the way your heart pounds violently against your rib cage. Looking at the screen, you see that someone named Yoongi is calling him.

You hesitate, cocking your head. The name rings familiar, and you watch as the call goes to voicemail. The screen fades to black but you keep staring at it. Not for the first time on your trip, you get the sense that you’re missing something, that there is something right there.

A text from Yoongi comes in, lighting up the screen.

Jung, you better not be fucking around with your prey again. We need to prepare.

It doesn’t sit well with you. When the screen goes dark, you tap it, bringing up the preview. What the hell does Yoongi mean fucking around with your prey? And what are they preparing for? You swear you remember the name Yoongi, retracing your thoughts.

You feel the blood drain from your face. You do know that name.

“Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”

“What?” you had asked him. “Your cat talks?”

��Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”

Slowly, you stiffen, remembering Hoseok’s words after breakfast. It had seemed silly then, that Hoseok was talking about a cat. But it’s not the only place you’ve seen Yoongi’s name.

Trust your gut, your sister always said.

You look at the bathroom door once before turning on your heel and creep from the room. You pull the front door open slowly, wincing and holding your breath as the outside world makes noise. Slipping through, you’re careful not to let the door click loudly before running to your room.

With the same care, you shut your door, flipping the bolt lock and sliding the chain in the door. The room feels like it’s spinning, your tunnel vision making you dizzy as you sweep your gaze back and forth, looking for the piles of your sister's research. It’s sitting on the floor, shoved off the bed where you let him fuck you last night.

The urge to vomit flips your stomach as you dive for the papers, riffling through them and scanning, feverish and sweaty. You find the entry you want, finger pressing to the page as you read it multiple times, fear making the words tangle.

Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe to see him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter.

Yoongi.

A sick feeling coils in your stomach as your hands tremble, eyes scanning the list of names your sister scribbled out as old families in Kill Devil. There’s another one you remember, the one that Yoongi used in his text to Hoseok.

Booth.

Park.

Warren.

Kim.

Jung.

Jeon.

Min.

A shaking hand presses to your mouth. Jung. “Fuck,” you squeak, looking at the wall separating you from Hoseok’s room.

It occurs to you that all this time, you thought the citizens were looking at Hoseok with contempt. How easily hatred can be confused for fear. Hoseok, who had shown up every time you were having a night terror. Who seemingly knew all the right things to do to ease you.

Hoseok, who had flashes of darkness that terrified you. Whose expression could go blank as he thought about something, but flip on a dime to a bright, sunny boy. Hoseok, whose presence always gave you a weird tingle, triggering some sort of instinct you couldn’t place.

Something happens then. With absolute certainty and a razor-sharp resolve that you’ve never experienced, you know your sister is dead. Perhaps you’ve always known. The sudden burning of your locket that night two months ago, the way that it looks like she ceased to exist. The eerie feeling dogging you, nipping at your heels.

Hanna is dead. The pain is only sharp for a second, a slice of agony as you bend over, arms wrapped around your stomach as you let out a silent scream. The grief is powerful but abrupt as you hear Hoseok call your name on the other side of the wall.

You stand. Because now you can’t mourn. Now, you must leave as quickly as possible. Because you hadn’t been trusting your gut, ignoring that weird little sense of something wrong.

Now isn’t the time to scream over what you know. Now you must get away from-

“Was it the books or the phone call?”

You whirl around. Hoseok is leaning against the wall by the door. The bolt is still flipped and the chain is still in place. You’re frozen to the spot, staring at him. He looks at the papers on the floor and back to you, smirk razor-sharp. Of course, he could get into the room without opening the lock.

All of the features you thought were beautiful are suddenly terrifying. “It took you way too long to puzzle it together, but I guess you’re not nearly as smart as Hanna.” You open your mouth but nothing comes out, throat constricted. “You were so easy to convince though, so I guess that’s something.”

“I don’t…” your voice is raspy, shaking.

“When you kept calling the city officials, I knew it was only time before you showed up here. I’ve been living in this fucking shit hole waiting.” He tsks and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you forever.”

“The citizens?”

“Stay out of my way and stay out of the Wood. They’re the frogs I let live, so long as I find other ones.”

“Why?” you ask, shaking your head. It’s the only question you can think of. It’s the only question that matters: whywhywhywhy. “Why help me?”

“Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey.”

It dawns on you that he had said as much at breakfast while he was tracing symbols on the table. He had been talking about his frogs, but he had been talking about you too. How many signs had you missed because he fucking smiled at you? Something dangerous lurking behind light flirting.

He points to himself. “Pitcher plant.” He points at you with a grin. “Frog. Ribbit.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl, fear replaced by a hatred that burns so hot the edges of your vision flash red. But it isn’t him you’re mad at. It’s you. For being so easily deceived. For being so casually influenced in a matter of days. “Fuck you, and your fucking town.”

“I did fuck you. You were special, though. I hope that makes you feel better. Didn’t fuck your sister. You’re cute, and I had time to spare.”

“All of this for what? To get off on the chase? The manipulation?”

He scoffs. “I already told you what this place is. It isn’t my fault you didn’t put it together. I almost hand-fed it to you. The Wood gives us power, and the Wood needs sacrifices.” Hoseok pushes himself off of the wall, his smile like the first light of the morning sun. “I’m taking you to the Wood.”

#hoseok smut #hobi smut #j hope smut #hoseok fanfic #j hope fanfic #bts fanfic #hobi fanfic #hoseok x reader #j hope x reader #minors dni #j hope x you #hobi x you #sailoryooons

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lanawinterscigarettes · 4 months

Note

requesting fluff with dhawan!master x their gn! companion

I tried to make this extra cute and fluffy because I'm such a sucker for those kinds of things (also shout out to my bestest bud @your-next-daydream for helping me come up with this corny ass pun of a title. I love you sm <3)

The One Who Rocks My World (Dhawan! Master x reader)

Warnings: soft! Master (he might be slightly ooc due to a part in this where he gets a little emotional), teeny weeny bit of hurt/comfort, but mostly just lots and lots of fluff

"Ooh, let's go there!" You said in excitement, pointing at a random alien marketplace that popped up on one of the TARDIS console's many screens.

The Master merely sighed, knowing you wouldn't stop pestering him until you got what you wanted. He usually wasn't a fan of random, one off trips (he wasn't The Doctor) but something about you always made it so hard for him to say no.

"Fine, but we're staying for no longer than two hours, three tops. And I'm not buying you anything there." He said sternly, glancing up at you while he punched in the coordinates. "Do you understand?"

You simply squealed happily in response, clapping your hands together. "Yay! I knew you'd say yes!"

Less than twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the marketplace. You'd grabbed The Master by the hand and were already starting to drag him towards it before the TARDIS had even landed properly.

"Slow down, the market's not going anywhere in the ten minutes it'll take us to get there," he grumbled, though he made no real attempt to stop you, something he could very well do if he so pleased.

He lingered a little behind you, following you around from vendor to vendor as you oohed and awed over the different wares being sold.

"Remember, I'm not buying you anything, so don't pick anything up if you don't have the money to pay for it," he called after you, watching as you picked up a piece of fabric that was similar to a scarf.

You frowned slightly before putting it back down, knowing full well that even if you did have the money, you most likely wouldn't know how much to give them, and you had no interest in being scammed by some random alien seller, again.

The Master shook his head at your antics, smiling softly to himself. As irritating as you could be sometimes, he did have to admit he found it to be pretty endearing.

He turned to say something else to you before realizing you'd run off again, though to where he wasn't entirely sure. He was about to start tearing apart the entire marketplace looking for you before you suddenly popped up again, this time holding something in your hands.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to figure out what you had. "What's that in your hands?"

"Oh, I found it on the ground over there!" You said while pointing to a beachy area that was littered with small, multicolored stones. "It's for you."

He looked at you in confusion as he took the stone, not quite sure what to say. "What is this?"

"It's a rock." You stated plainly, doing nothing to actually answer his question.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that." He did his best to supress an eye roll. "I mean, why are you giving it to me?"

"Well, because I care about you," you stated as though it should've been obvious. "And you give gifts to people you care about."

That made sense, he supposed, though The Master never really did view himself as someone other people would care for. But, still. A rock?

"Why a rock?" He asked curiously, turning it over in his hands.

"Because it's purple," you simply replied, an unwavering smile on your face. "And you wear purple a lot, so I figured it must be one of your favorite colors. Plus, it reminded me of you."

Your words made him want to cry. You thought about him enough that you were reminded of him in even the smallest of things?

"It's- it's very nice," he choked out, blinking back a sudden onslaught of tears.

You frowned slightly, your forehead creasing in concern. "Aw, don't cry." You immediately wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

He wasn't nearly as stiff as he was the first few times you showed him physical affection, but he was obviously still a little awkward about it, holding his arms out to the side while you hugged him.

He glanced yet again at the rock in his hand, watching as the mixture of colors shined brightly in the sun, like his very own kaleidoscope.

The purple color of the stone made him smile, and he very slowly did his best to hug you back properly, not missing the way you seemed to hold on for a bit longer after that.

If this was always what happened when you went on trips together, then he'd have to make sure to plan them more often.

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

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lazyneonrabbitt · 8 months

Text

Sick day

You woke up feeling like absolute shit. Today was you three's day off and now this crazy headache was ruining the fun.

After your painkillers were deemed useless the boys decided yo treat you even more like a princess. You were already their everything but today it was even worse.

"Gonna have to stay in all day and I cam't even continue my game because of this freaking headache.." you whined dramatically, rolling onto your back with a loud sigh.

"I'm sure you'll feel good enough tonight to play some more." Lip came walking towards you and set a fresh pot of tea and an empty mug on the coffee table. "Now quit whining and drink something, yeah? You're probably starting your period soon, you always get these headaches before it."

Meanwhile, Carmy laughed to himself at how easily Lip shut you up. Taking some mental notes since he still always folded easily when it came to you. "Treating her like a princess, huh?"

"What. Princess is just a fancy word for a spoiled brat, which she is. ..which is also our fault for spoiling her so much." They both looked over at you. Sitting there in their clothes, blowing the steam off your hut mug of fresh brewed tea. You hadn't lifted a single finger today. The painkillers were brought to you in bed by Lip. Carmy made you a smoothie to get your strenght up and brewed you a pot of tea without you having to ask for any of it.

After a moment Lip returned to the couch with a large mug of coffee and sat down next to you. He snatched the TV remote and controller off the side table, reaching rudely past you in doing so and booted up your game. "Hey!" You protested until he opened a new save slot on the title screen. "You can't play, so you'll have to live with watching me fail at playing."

"What? You hate this game." You point at the TV to make a point. "You say it's unfair and it sucks because it has no difficulty settings and you 'die way too easily'" you air quote that last bit to recall his earlier statement on your new game when you were playing the week before.

"I know, baby. But I know how badly you want to stare at the pretty goth twink puppet kill other, less pretty evil puppets." His mocking tone was hard to miss.

Carmen walked past behind the couch and ducked down to kiss both of you on the cheek in passing by. "Alright, I'll be making a grocery run if you two are gonna be bickering like an old married couple." With his bag slung over his shoulder he grabbed his keys from the bowl and headed out the door. "See you in a bit, Bear!" You waved bye and made kissy noises as he closed the door behind him.

Carmen couldn't get the smile off his face.his two partners being idiots did that to him. You three were happy, in love and things were good. He felt good.

His quick grocery trip turned into a larger run, getting the freshest ingredients from local markets and stopping by the herbs shop to get some more tea blends for you. He knew your favorite store bought flavors and worked with the seller to mix up a few different bags for you to try.

On his way back he stopped at the local smoke shop and picked up some of the expensive brand cigarettes Lip loved to smoke but only got on special occasions because they're so pricey.

Carmen's love language has always been acts of service, and usually came together with gift giving as soon as he learned his partners' interests. And now with his bags full of items for dinner and his little surprise gifts he made his way back home.

"Oh motherfucker. I clearly dodged that!"

"You clearly didn't. He hit you on that last swing, else you wouldn't be dead now."

Lip's cursing and your arguments could be heard through the front door, having that fond smile creep back on Carmy's face as he walked back into the apartment.

"Hey babe, how was shopping?" "Welcome back, Bear!" The joined welcomes warmed his heart as he walked up to them and kiss them both, "Brought you something." ans hands them their gifts.

"What's the occasion? We got something to celebrate?" Lip was truly curious as to why he was given these cigarettes. "You never got them when we first started dating."

"Carmy, these teas smell amazing. Did you mix these yourself? That's your writing on the labels." You held a bag to your nose and breathed in the blend of red fruits. "Yeah. I know how much you love your fruit teas, so I went to that herb place to check out their stuff. Thought you'd like some personal blends."

You lifted your arm to catch his head as he leaned on the backrest and pull him into a loving kiss. "Thanks, Carmy."

When you pulled apart Lip took the oportunity to grab hold of him too and repeat the affectionate kisses. "Yeah, thanks, Bear."

Carmen took off to the kitchen to prepare soup and some sides for dinner while Lip kept you occupied with his failed attempts of playing your game again.

Dinner was set up beautifully on the kitchen island. Three sets of beautifully plated sides next to bowls of steaming soup, stuffed to the brim with veggies and meat.

Every little detail about this dinner was praised by you and Lip, thanking Carmy with every first bite of every bit of food on the table. You shared details of your couch hanging time, video game frustrations and shopping trip until every last bite of food was gone.

You and Lip insisted on cleaning up so Carmy could relax, but he kept swooping in to carefully clean his expensive knives that he disn't allow anyone else to use. Apologising constantly and immediately making excuses to help clean afterwards.

By the time you were done cleaning and standing in each others' way the sun had set and you found yourselves moving back to the couch. You draped yourself over the boys' laps to watch a movie of their choosing.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: Who knows what game Lip is playing?

#sometimes i write #gallzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #lip gallagher #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #lip gallagher x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Helping Hand 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Andy, I'm on my way to work," you say, almost breathless as you charge across the parking lot, "you know, I gotta pay my rent, my water, my electric--"

"Not that easy, is it?" He sneers.

"Excuse me!" You bluster, barely dodging a car as you go to cross to the sidewalk embankment in front of the store, "how dare you--"

"I did you a favour. Accept it. You needed to grow up, be out on your own--"

"Why the fuck did you even call?!" You throw your hand out as you pace along the window of the store. Only he can get you like this. Good riddance, it really is a favour.

"My mom's party--"

"Oh, fuck off. I don't have time for that. I'm working overtime trying to scrape by because you gave me nothing, Andrew! You took everything and gave nothing!"

You tear the phone from your ear and hit your finger against the screen. End call. Bastard. He has you all worked up before a twelve. Probably exactly what he wanted.

You stop and force yourself to catch your breath. You can't walk in like this. You're close to tears. You don't even realise until your nose tingles and you feel the sheen threatening to spill over. You cover your face and huff.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?"

You don't move at first, hoping the voice is talking to someone else. It's too familiar. You slowly drop your hands and look at Jonathan. He must have quite the library if he's here so often. You swallow.

"Yeah, yeah," you like. You are not okay. You wasted twenty years on a man who never loved you. "I'm just about to get started."

You force a smile, cheek twitching as it bulbs. You turn to peek over your shoulder at the purple logos behind the glass. Thank god the barriers hide you from view.

"Ah, well then, shall we go in together? I'm just headed in myself."

"Uh, sure," you nod and drop your purse from your elbow to your hand, stuffing your phone inside. "Thanks."

"Allow me," he rushes ahead of you to the doors, "darling."

He gestures you in first. You precede him, hiding the chagrin that tugs at your forced smile. You see Heather, another trainee, and give her a small wave. She's behind the till doing her morning half-shift before classes.

"Well, uh, I should go put my stuff in the hub," you say over your shoulder, "I have to clock in for the--"

"Mr. Pine," Marcia, the morning manager appears from the Best Sellers display, "how are you?"

"Oh, hello," he greets her brightly, "just another check-in. Holidays are fast approaching. Any word on the truck?"

"Not yet but we're scheduling for it's arrival--"

Your head turns buzzy as you short-circuit. Pine. As in Pine Shelves, the story. He's not a customer at all, he's your goddamn boss. Oh god, as if the day couldn't get worse.

"Pardon, we'll discuss that later," Jonathan tells Marcia, "I was just speaking with this lovely employee. Always so helpful. I see training is going well."

"Ah, she's one of Giselle's, but thank you, sir."

He nods and she takes her cue. She retreats as he faces you. You can't speak. You're stupid with shock and embarrassment.

"I hate to make you late," he grins handsomely, "I wanted to tell you though that my sister loves the bookmark, no word on the book yet."

"Your sister?" You blink.

"Ah, yes, she had a birthday recently," he explains, "I must thank you for your suggestions."

You nod, fighting back the blaze behind your eyes, "no problem, Mr. Pine."

"Oh, dear, Jonathan suits me fine," he fixes his pocket square.

"Alright, um, sorry, I..." you look pointedly at the clock, "can't leave them hanging... sir."

"Hard worker," he praises, "as you will."

He stays as he is as you back away. You spin, nearly walking into the shelf of pens that stands centre of the wide aisle. You quickly skirt around it and scurry into the forest of paperbacks and hardcovers.

You get it. It was all a test. You just hope you past. Certainly, you will know once your probationary period is up. For now, you'll just painstakingly agonize over every word you said to the man.

💙

Your shift finally ends but brings with it little celebration. There is no relief in going home to an empty apartment. The rush of customers kept your mind off of the disaster of your life and now you have nothing to keep you from facing the mess.

You cross the lot, checking the time on your phone as you head for the stop right at the edge of the road. You see the orange letters of the bus banner approach. Shit, it's early.

You break into a run. Oof, you're a bit old for this. As you get to the curb, you're left in a fog of exhaust. The driver doesn't see you as he pulls away and you curse at the moonlight. Of course.

You deflate and fall onto the bench. Your feet hurt, your hips hurt, your back, neck and shoulders. Forty minutes for another bus or you could walk down twenty minutes and catch the connection.

You don't know which is better. Once more, indecisive to a fault. You lean forward and cradle your head. You can't even afford an uber or taxi home. You're better off walking for two hours.

So that's what you'll do. You get up and drag your feet down the unmaintained and crumbling sidewalk. You get to the large intersection and wade through the chaos of lights and impatient drivers.

On the other side, you head towards the light of the Walmart with several stops outside. It will at least be safer than standing in pitch black. As you come up to the edge of the large shopping plaza, a pair of headlights flash over you. On, off, then on again. Then a short toot.

You squint at the sleek black paint and the interior light flicks on. Oh god. You cringe as you make eye contact with Jonathan and he gives a small wave.

Just what you need.

He rolls down his window and sticks his head out, "need a lift?"

You shake your head, "my bus is coming." You point over him.

"Bus? Darling, I insist." You hear the locks slide back, "do get in."

You stare, a deer in actual headlights. You can't afford a taxi, so you sure as shit can't afford to tell your boss no.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #the night manager #helping hand #series #drabble #au #bookstore au

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ikemenomegas · 1 year

Note

in light of gojo's unsealing, ive thought about diff cute scenarios

gojo being the type of person to get his mate's phone and snap hundreds of pictures of his face

this would probably never happen given gojo's privacy when it comes to his marriage but in a different world i can see this happening Gojo naming his alpha as "mochi seller' on his phone and Itadori seeing the message pop out from the lock screen and accidentally somewhat outing gojo's rs when he asks him in front of the other students why the mochi seller sent an ily message

the tender moments where gojo lets his infinity down or lets his alpha inside his infinity and he gets to relish in the warmth of their skin

the sappy things gojo's alpha has to sometimes do whenever gojo gets too rowdy and they need to placate him for whatever reason (re: alpha reading a map together with nanami scenario)

gojo sending his alpha a picture of two rocks by the sidewalk with the caption: 'us'

gojo asking his alpha if they would still love him if he was a worm and the alpha saying: "no<33"

Awww! These were really cute anon! Very happy ending which I feel like we're going to need a lot of in the coming weeks...

(Also I ran with it but why is their name "mochi seller" haha)

[Ao3 link for those who prefer chapters]

⬖ Photomaton

"Device storage insufficient, please move or delete files to make room?" you read, nonplussed.

Nobara sighed. "Sensei, I showed you how to do that weeks ago."

"I did do it." You frowned, opening up your files. Why were there so many pictures...

Nobara rolled her eyes at you and beat a hasty retreat when your hand went to your mouth as your face went warm.

There were rows and rows of photos, none of which you had taken.

Most of them were selfies, but some of them were obviously the result of Satoru propping the phone up and attempting to pose for the camera.

He must have been swiping your phone every time you left it sitting out or went to sleep. He didn't rest much, but there were so many, more probably than you'd been able to take in the last five years.

There wasn't much thought for such things when you only saw one another a handful of days every month. The focus had gone to managing the present, not on taking pictures. You'd only really thought to regret it after that terrible Halloween, when you worried you'd never see him again.

Some of the photos framed Satoru inside one of your homes. Others were almost ugly shots, taken way too close, or blurred with motion artifact. There were pictures of him haloed in the night glow of streetlights or washed out in the halogen light of a konbini. There were those made grainy with low light and some that took your breath away because he was nice looking.

Furtively, you looked up but were alone and you silently thanked your student's exasperated impatience. A few of the photos showed just too much skin to be exactly proper.

You thumbed down. The pictures were a story all their own revealing some of what Satoru did when alone and you savored the honesty. You had to keep apart from one another for so long.

The last thing in the camera roll was a video.

It opened with the shuffling sounds and the wobbling display of someone walking. Satoru wound around furniture in the darkened interior of your apartment.

"I'm home. You're asleep right now," he said lowly, "probably won't be later. I don't know how most people can sleep so much." He spoke half to himself, the deep night laying over his words like velvet.

There was the sound of the door to the little balcony opening and then the faint tinkle of the glass bells hanging from the eaves.

"Must be nice," he mused, "you get to miss a lot."

The image on the screen steadied as he rested your phone on the rail. The familiar view of the city resolved as faint golden starbursts of light. The rustling of Satoru's clothing faded until all you could hear was the faint rush of night wind and his breathing.

The video went on for over a quarter of an hour. You scrolled your fingers across the screen. He didn't move, the picture stayed the same. You leaned against a wall and listened to the last few moments, your heartbeat low and slow, your breath in sync with his from some time both here and long ago.

Satoru spoke, amused over the night-sounds:

"Don't delete this. I'll know."

⬖ Daifuku

"Good job," Gojo congratulated his dust-stained students as the veil fell.

Maki and Toge glared while Yuuji gave him a tired thumbs up from where he was laying on the ground.

"Dinner is on me tonight." Gojo ignored their halfhearted grumbling. "Decide where you want to go."

He anticipated a larger than normal ding to his wallet, but they'd earned it (and it wasn't as though he couldn't afford it). Beating this curse was no minor feat and it had been a particularly crafty one, which was why Gojo had gone with them just in case.

The students made noises of acknowledgement with varying levels of anticipation, but to no one's surprise, Yuuji was the first to roll over and dig around for his phone.

He tapped the screen and groaned.

"Sensei, mine's dead. Can I use yours?"

Gojo unlocked it and passed it over without a thought. He wasn't particularly hungry, the kids could figure this out without his interference for once.

"Um, Gojo-sensei?"

"Hm?"

"Why is a "mochi seller" reminding you to stop at the pharmacy and sending you heart emojis?"

With uncanny synchrony, Maki and Toge's heads turned to look at their teacher.

The phone in Yuuji's hand buzzed faintly.

"I love you?" he read, sounding alarmed.

Toge's eyes went a bit wide but a grin that curled a bit too much at the edges and showed teeth took over Maki's face.

"Text back," she said, scrambling to her feet.

With all her quickness, she swooped in and snatched the phone when Yuuji hesitated.

The phone buzzed once more.

"I'll be home by 8:30, probably," she read.

Gojo took advantage of Maki's triumphant look to slip the device from her grip.

"I knew it!" she pointed at him. "I knew you were hiding something."

"Grown ups hide lots of things," he replied blithely. He was confident none of the students could tell that moment had been more like someone walking over his grave.

It was not as though he intended to hide his relationship with you. Hide implied shame, concealment on the other hand had been security and was harder to let go of. There would come a moment when the kids prised the truth from him. He was not about to have that moment with his kids now, or hopefully ever, because they accidentally read his texts out loud.

Maki reached for his phone and he easily tipped out of her way, walking off and heading towards a neighborhood he knew (and the students did not) had a lot of very good restaurants.

He was silently very thankful when the implied threat of no food at all distracted the students. Or at least had Yuuji barreling past Maki and kindly dropping the matter in favor of promising to "only look at the map this time, was there a good katsudon place nearby?"

⬖ Goose Down

Satoru spotted you hunched over a rail with your umbrella open overhead, held in the crook of your elbow.

He could tell from the set of your shoulders that the summer sun was getting to you, despite the cursed tool taking a majority of the pressure off.

Your energy was butter yellow and burnt red and lithium pink, mixing slowly around your body as you slowly cycled power into the umbrella and the short sword held loosely in your hands.

Satoru ducked around a corner and took a peak at your face. Your eyes were closed.

Smirking quietly to himself, he crept around, Infinity a barrier between himself and the world. For just a little longer...

You jumped when he dropped it, nearly dropping your sword and automatically holding the umbrella high enough for him to fit under it.

"Hah-"

"Speechless?"

You gaped at him, mouth hanging open.

He nodded as if you'd just confirmed it. "This is what they don't tell you about marriage. Making someone's heart race is important even after the wedding. We'll probably be together forever at this rate."

You mouth closed and then went a little wobbly.

"It's hot," you finally said, miserably. "And it's too sunny."

He couldn't hold back his laughter as he stepped closer and folded himself around you. Your scent tingled pleasantly in his nose and your skin was warm from both heat and light, like a sun-warmed blanket.

"Oh," you said faintly, "you're cool," and you all but melted against him.

"You could just go inside," Satoru said. "I sent the students off on an adventure. We wouldn't be bothered."

"That sounds nice," you murmured, but didn't make any move away from him.

He didn't either. He didn't feel much like letting go yet.

⬖ Orange Kazoo

Sometimes, you reminded yourself through your already strained patience, Satoru just needed to be left alone to make noise.

For a moment, you considered begging him for just a little peace, but you knew he was doing this for your benefit. Shibata Kin was a difficult pill to swallow.

"I never expected anyone to send Six Eyes to join us."

It was the weakest and most recent of Shibata's barbs. The oily way he said it and the implication that anyone would dare to subordinate Satoru to this boot licker rankled.

Satoru crinkled the package extra loud on a bit of melon bread and smiled. "I was in the neighborhood."

He took a bite, chewed and swallowed while you flipped through the mission report on a clipboard.

You sighed, exhaling your worry, and handed it back. "Let's go then. It looks like all the victims disappeared from the same place so we should start there."

That place was a building that straddled a moderately busy subway station and stacked part of a shopping mall, a cluster of private clinics, and a cram school all on top of each other.

Satoru trailed behind through the store, stopping at kiosks and chatting with saleswomen, picking up and putting down objects.

You could feel Shibata's irritation transform into something far less internal as he turned to you.

"He's like a child," he remarked coolly. "Sure we shouldn't just ditch him? The curse doesn't sound that hard to deal with since I've got you."

When you ignored him, he kept talking.

"He shouldn't even be here," the man drawled.

You shrugged. "Well he is."

Shibata sourly appeared to swallow whatever else he wanted to say. You turned around to see where Satoru had gone to. The thought of being stuck with the bitter other sorcerer was worse than waiting for them to pick their bickering back up.

He waved a stuffed cat in sunglasses at you and nodded eager agreement when you pointed out a cute little sparrow holding an umbrella on a shelf behind him. Sometimes, it was best to just humor Satoru and play along.

When you turned back, Shibata Kin was gone.

Since you were all concealing your residuals from the curse you expected was in the building, you had no idea where he went.

You looked over your shoulder. Satoru was gone too.

Well.

You tapped your fingers over your pocket and then decided to let them go. Satoru always seemed to know where to find you and Shibata had called you here as backup. You should probably go kill what you were looking for before it nibbled on him.

Many fewer curses than you expected lingered in the shopping mall. They were bizarre places with as many secret passageways as an ancient castle. Away from the popular shops and crowds, it quickly grew quiet and the bright gleam of displays gave way to more neglected halls.

On your way, you passed a small bank of capsule machines. You crouched down, and smiled faintly to yourself. Abandoned in the furthest reach of the shopping mall, almost near to where a service entrance lead to another stretch of winding halls and tunnels, the items here were both ancient (by city standards) and ridiculous.

Packages of candy that still held their shine but were likely far past their expiration date sat beside tiny figurines of a frog-shaped toddler in a little red hat. You grimaced back at those and moved on.

Near the end of the row was a machine that sold tiny musical instruments, plastic and paper and probably terrible sounding, but it wasn't expired food or frog children. You stuck a few coins into the slot and turned the dial.

An acid green ball spat out from the slot.

You picked at the latches on its side while you found your way further and further into the little used corridors.

There was a flash of something, like a burst of camera illumination from behind a door on your right.

You slipped through it, pulling your blade free from its sheath at the small of your back, and emerged into a tunnel that looked to be connecting to the nearby subway station. Not far ahead, the darkened path split into two.

You flipped the sword around so its blunt edge rested against your forearm and sprinted, dashing across the intersection.

A blur of motion came at you. As it grazed by, you snatched at that movement and sprang into the air, high enough to crouch on the ceiling of the tunnel.

The curse was a near perfect twin of the one a little ways down the way the attack had come, which should have maybe been your first hint. The one that had come at you was grinning, its face a rictus mockery of a theater mask.

They both sat, crouched like toads. You feinted toward the one that had come towards you, and at the last minute flew down to the other, its mouth bent in a painted looking frown.

It backed up in surprise, but not far enough and your blade nicked through the face, which was hard like dense wood. The air around your other hand shimmered in heat, as you struck for the thing's cavernous eyes.

It emitted a furious, scolding gurgle that almost reminded you of some of the window teachers from high school, and swallowed the burst of heat before it could crackled around it into full flame.

You hardly had time to reinforce your body with cursed energy before you were blasted from two directions, letting the momentum carry you and trying to wrap the more opposing forces and the roaring sound of displaced air into your own cursed energy. But something about it resisted you, and you were unable to absorb as much of the attack as you usually would.

A racking shiver radiated through your body right before you were caught by a broad hand on your back.

"Hi," Satoru said sweetly.

"Hi," you panted, automatic, eyes still fixed on the curse.

"What's going on?"

You looked up at him with incredulity.

Hoisted in his other arm was the limp body of your other companion.

Satoru's head cocked to the side, curious as he looked at the curse.

"I don't know yet. I hit it and then--" the mask of the frowning curse was ash blasted and the notch from your first strike still there, but it was not as damaged as expected.

You regained your footing and stood upright.

"If I give it another go I think I can figure it out."

He tilted his head.

You sized up the two curses waiting outside the reach of Satoru's infinity.

"Oh." You reached into your pocket and handed him the green orb.

"What's this?"

"Dunno," you said with a faint smile. "I got it for you."

"Aww, you shouldn't have."

Maybe not. Satoru thinks gachapon are funny, you should show him the line of machines if you get out of here the same way you come in, then he can choose something himself. You still have a few coins on you.

You flew at the grinning curse, both hands on the hilt of your blade, cursed energy flashing into a point a good six inches out from where the metal itself ended.

You held, crystalizing your own movement for a moment and stared deep into the thing's empty eyes.

It twitched, and then its arm moved and you slashed downward, intending to cleave the limb away.

The blade hit, you knew it did. You were able to dodge the attack you anticipated from the smiling curse. The frowning curse in front of you struck back, almost at the same time.

You pulled on some of the reserved momentum you'd held back in your initial strike and barely twisted out of the way.

You lifted the gleeful cackles of the twinned curses from the air and tried to twist them into a crackling rope of flame to surround the grinning one again. As you had expected, the damage did not seem to completely take and you were forced to duck when a bolt of heat tried to sear your back, culminating in another blast that shook the tunnel and thew you once more.

"That's enough."

Satoru appeared at your side again, pulling you back behind the shield of his power when the curse's retaliation threatened to cut through you.

"This one's a bad match for your technique," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Is it reflecting through the faces?" you asked, catching your breath.

He hummed.

Absently, you realized you could scent the sharp, fresh smell of citrus on his breath - the smell of the biting orange flavored candy you'd shared with him on the train ride here.

"If it reflects yours too--" you trailed off. What you did was firmly in the realm of the "real" and Satoru's abilities were not. If this curse were to reflect back blue, or red, or heaven forbid purple... well you'd never seen or asked up until if Satoru could stop his own techniques. It seemed a tactical oversight in this moment.

Satoru stepped forward.

"Stabilize him," he instructed flatly. He'd tossed Shibata Kin's still body where he had been standing barely a minute before.

The curses had moved closer and pressed together, beginning to meld into one another before your eyes. The damage you had already done was fading further.

You knelt at Shibata's side, shaking back your sleeves. "You know this is going to poison him."

You carefully set two fingers underneath his right collarbone, and three a few ribs below his heart on the left and focused in on the flickers of electricity that powered a human body.

"Oh well." Satoru's grin was a baring of teeth. "He'll get over it better than being dead."

You could sense the arrhythmic flutter of Kin's heart, like the popping scatter of an overloaded lamp, like a fractured version of that flash you had sensed earlier.

"You know he was trying to set you up right?" Satoru asked as he batted away an experimental chunk of rubble the curse tossed his way with a flick of his wrist. The stone was aimed right for the face of the smiling curse and even as it hit, it seemed to bounce back, hitting Satoru's shield and falling to the ground.

You sparked a bit of your energy to pure electricity, sending it jumping from one side of Shibata Kin's chest to the other.

"It crossed my mind," you admitted, murmuring as you concentrated. "But I didn't pursue the thought."

Satoru snorted. Yes, alright it was more likely you'd decided thinking about it too hard was going to distract you from the mission but you were here anyway.

You counted the pulse of electricity between your fingers to your own heartbeat until Kin's matched, or at least matched better than before.

When you pulled your hands away, Satoru cracked his knuckles. It looked like he was going to go in for physical attacks.

"You might need to manage the tunnel," he said.

Yet another reason this was a bad match up, not just for you but for him. Satoru did best in wide open spaces where he had room to move and didn't need to worry too much about collateral damage. Dropping a ton of rock on your heads and collapsing the buildings above sounded like a thing that could happen.

You had barely pressed your hands to the ground when Satoru was off like a shot.

The curse wasn't that strong - a high end second grade or low level first grade at best given that it wasn't itself attacking to provoke a response - but it split into those two halves of itself and reformed again as needed to minimize the impacts Satoru rained upon it or flank him.

Limitless lay against his skin between each strike so he remained unmarked, but the cavernous space still rocked with noise and dust shook from the gaps between tiles. You steadied it best you could, absorbing the oscillations and dampening the noise.

It did not take long for the frowning curse to realize what you were doing and send the smiling one racing for you. With one hand on the ground and one on your sword, brimming with unspent potential, you raised the point.

"Nah ah." This seemed at once to you and the monster charging your way. Satoru appeared in its path and bodily kicked it away.

It did not take long after for the twinned curses to be dispatched. Although the only reason you weren't holding your breath is because you were gritting your teeth with the effort of holding the ground together and trying not to shake apart yourself.

Satoru in motion, in a fight, particularly when physical constraint demanded more of his ingenuity, was always a sight to behold.

He came back to you looking unfairly dewy post exertion, with his hair in a sort of windswept disarray, the fabric around his shoulders bunched up. He shrugged out the wrinkles and dusted off his hands.

Your briefly pressed a hand to his knee after you steadied the last tremor from the ground.

"Thank you."

Satoru tapped his forefinger twice against your temple as he walked by. "A feedback loop between you and that thing would have been very messy."

You stood up, swaying slightly.

Even though Satoru would have happily dragged Shibata to the exit point, you insisted on tugging him upright and at least moving him through the air to a place where the three of you could safely rest and call a car.

You had settled him against a wall and were calling Akari when he finally stirred.

"What happened?" Shibata asked weakly.

You turned around to look at him and from Shibata Kin's tepid expression and the sound of shifting cloth behind you, you assumed Satoru must have copied your movement.

Still, you gave him a faint smile and couched down beside him. He didn't have the strength to move away as you grabbed his wrist and felt his pulse. It was thready, but he'd be good enough to get the rest of the way above ground until an actual doctor could take a look at hime.

"We're all alive," you explained unnecessarily.

Shibata Kin's eyes moved from your face to over your shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip.

From behind you came a buzzing hum, somewhat approximating a sad tuba. Waa wa wa waaaaaaaa, it trailed off.

Satoru had a the wide end of a grape purple kazoo held between his teeth, his sunglasses already exchanged for the bandages he'd had wrapped around his eyes.

Only just in time, you ducked your face into your shoulder and hid a smile.

⬖ Pet rock

You were walking down some quiet residential street, trying to match the map to the trail of the curse you were tracking. It was not very intelligent, but it had a pernicious little ability to draw other curses to it under the banner of a powerful command. You'd been swatting third and fourth grades out of the air as you chased it, trying to wear down its arsenal.

It wasn't a terribly good strategy however and the thing had been winding its way through side streets to buy time. If you could get in closer, you could chop away at more of its train of screaming fears, maybe get a head start on the main peril. Thus the attempt at navigating and figuring out its destination so you could cut it off.

At least Hirano-san would be happy. Maybe. Culling curses required balance; they were their own little ecosystem. As long as the things aren't eating anyone, a certain amount of apex predators in an area could be a deterrent, like the old practice of putting powerful relics out like roach traps. Have the inevitable critters fight and eat one another rather than their human hosts.

A notification popped up over the map, and then another after it.

You felt your shoulders drop as you recentered yourself with a faint smile.

At your hotel later that night, you recalled that Satoru had sent you a message. You fell onto the bed, wrapped up in the hotel bathrobe.

It was... nice, knowing that someone was waiting at home for you. Or if not at home, he was still busy as ever, out there in the world somewhere, thinking of you. Weirdly normal.

The message was a picture. You blinked up at it. Two little rocks and a flower growing out of a crack in the pavement to shade over them.

>> ?

Almost immediately you saw three dots appear.

<< it's us!

Is it? you thought skeptically, looking at the picture again.

The dots again.

<< You don't think so :(?

Your phone was buzzing in your hand before you had even a moment to answer.

It startled you enough to drop the phone.

Owww

"You took so long to answer. This is photography, are you discouraging my new passion? It could go on a greeting card."

The word salad was meaningless and silly, weightless.

"I dropped you on my nose," you said, eyes closed as you rubbed the spot the corner of your case had hit.

"Were you that surprised by it?"

A pause.

"It's cute." The notion of it and the fact that he'd sent it to you was cute.

"It is cute right?" His voice was bright but not overly loud through the phone, for which you were grateful, already settling into warmth. "The flower is poisonous too."

You curled up on your side and held the phone close. Maybe he'd get lucky and you would find something cute to send back to him.

⬖ Puddle jumping

a/n: You have no idea how much googling I had to do to figure out what the prompt meant. I am not on the tick-tock app lol or, I've found, a fan of this meme... the implication that girlfriends ask useless questions as a rule seems sort of meh. So I mostly kept to my original response to this which was "i don't know what that is and honestly probably neither does alpha"

Satoru was herding you down the sidewalk, occasionally listing one way or the other to get you out of the way of other pedestrians. Sometimes he did it for the simple fascination of how you swayed along by him like you were on a tether. Even while you eyes were all but fixed skyward, you stayed roughly the same distance from him.

It was the first day of sun after days of rain and also one of the first days he had off with you in so many apart. He had been too restless the day before, back off a bad mission that had more to do with the desperate unpredictability of people than the intrinsic darkness of curses. You had not resisted him when he drew you out, stifled by the low clouds and humidity and longing for openness. Even with Infinity blocking the rain, it had felt like being closed in again.

Relieved of their burden, the clouds had gone from iron grey to diaphanous white and pealed up and away in swaths like billowing curtains. This is what you were watching - their retreat from the earth. They had come so low they wrapped around skyscrapers and telephone poles on their back to their usual place.

Satoru watched the drowned earth. You had cut through a tree lined walk. The rich soil was churned and muddy and the long bodies of worms that had been washed out or crawled up were strewn about.

Your and Satoru's steps made no mark as he stretched Infinity over and around the two of you. Neither of you tread upon those blind, waterlogged creatures.

Satoru stepped behind you to allow a cluster of high schoolers to pass and hid a faint wrinkle of his nose as they squealed and ran by, realizing they were stepping on some of the remains.

Your umbrella was folded and carried at your side, and you tilted your head back at him, looking a little sun-drunk. He smiled at you. He could see the reflection of the sky in your gaze.

He adopted a pout, snickering internally as you immediately seemed to regain some awareness and a wary anticipation entered your expression.

"Would you still like me if I was a worm?" he asked.

You blinked at him. "Is this one of those things you learned from the kids?"

He slouched a bit, crowding into your space. "Would you still love me if I was a worm," he wheedled.

"Are you turning into a worm?" you asked, slightly panicked, hand going to his arm as though to check if he was going as wet and floppy as the poor things on the ground.

"I'm going to turn into one if you don't answer my question."

The last of the distracted fog lifted from your eyes as you shook yourself. You took his hand and pulled him close to let another couple pass you on the walk. They inclined their head in thanks.

There was no rush to get where you were going and you tugged him along a smaller path that cut under a row of thick-branched trees so you could walk side by side unimpeded.

"I still liked you when you were a semi-sentient six sided die," you pointed out, smiling slightly.

"It's not the same," he whined a bit, drawing out the words in a sing-song fashion.

"Isn't it? I'm not sure a die eight kilometers under the ocean is more useful than a worm."

"Hmph."

"Although I really hope the worm thing is hypothetical."

"Why?"

"Because with our luck that would mean I'm a worm too."

Satoru huffed a faint sound of amusement. "Nooo. You'd still be some kind of bird." He patted your back. "Don't worry I'll make sure to crawl out late so you can still be in time to eat me all up."

"... Are you propositioning me or telling me to hurry up?"

"Walk faster or I'll step on the backs of your shoes."

You did. The two of you walked faster and faster until you were all but chasing one another out of the park, laughing lightly as you dodged the spots of wet on the ground.

#ask answered #thanks for the little prompts #i started writing these when I felt a bit drained and it was nice to have some short things to work on #...I might have gone a little nuts with the banners whoops #also battle scenes always take forever to write it's good practice but ugh #that's why orange kazoo is so long #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #lots of cellphone use for these 21st century kids #jjk #omegaverse #but no mention of omega/alpha so it's like another implied omegaverse thing i'm bad at this #alpha!reader #got it in before midnight my time so still Wednesday!#from the notebook

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frostironfudge · 4 days

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Silhouettes In The Spotlight - Bucky Barnes - Epilogue

Summary: Bucky Barnes has worked immensely hard to have a filmography expanding across genres and garnering accolades from critics, peers and fans. Y/N Y/L/N, with her debut novel (fan-fiction turned New York Times Bestseller) has two other best sellers under her belt. Next is her highly anticipated fourth book lined up for release. SHEILD Productions has acquired the film rights to her debut novel and they want Bucky Barnes to play the lead (aka himself) by any means necessary. This story is about angst, lust, heartbreak, and love. After all fairytales only exist in books and movies right?

Warnings: fluff, feels, sm/ut, dirt y-talk

Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Playlist

Chapter Sixteen

HEADLINES:

Oh, Oh, Looks Like Sharon Carter and Brock Rumlow Are Building HYDRA For Themselves. All Eyes Are On Them.

EXCLUSIVE! Pictures From The ITIMYIMDO Filming Wrap Up After Party. You Will Not Believe Who This Actor Was Found Kissing!

Author Y/N Shares Pictures From Vacation. Ma’am Where Are The Shirtless Beach Pictures Of Bucky Barnes? Can We Peek Inside Your Phone? Pretty Please?

Steve Rogers Shares Pictures With His Dog And We Cannot Help But Melt. Eight Times Our Favourite Blonde Man Gave Us Puppy Vibes. (Yes Even All Sweatered Up As Ransom Drysdale)

Loki Laufeyson Spotted Returning To The Stage For Shakespeare. Shows Sell Out For First Month.

Natasha Romanoff Shares Trailer For ITIMYIMDO Release Date Announced!

Top Ten Moments From The Book We Wish Are In The Movie

Six Months Later

“Everybody please put your hands together for the Dark Prince of Hollywood,” Erik introduces to an elated crowd, “Bucky Barnes!”

The band plays a beat as the curtains part revealing a grinning Bucky. He waves at the crowd making his way to the familiar couch. Erik and he shake hands and share a hug. The crowd still cheers and they watch as Bucky smiles, cheeks flushed at their admiration.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He says to the crowd sending them flying kisses.

Erik gestures for him to sit and the crowd to calm down. Once things settle down the two men grin at each other.

“So good to have you back on the show. How have you been my friend?” Erik smiles.

“Always happy to see you man, I’ve been good, getting by.” Bucky shifts a little in his seat, unbuttoning his jacket.

“We recently saw you were on vacation,” Erik gestures to the screen displaying the picture of Bucky at the beach and shirtless.

The crowd hoots and hollers, the crimson on his cheeks deepens.

“He’s a taken man you people!” Erik feigns chastising the audience.

Bucky chuckles, “My girl actually took most of the pictures.”

“Tell us about her, we want to know how it feels for an avid reader as you to date an author?”

Bucky takes a deep breath considering his words, his nervous gestures of fiddling his glove clad fingertips manifests.

“She is listening, you know,” Erik teases to ease some of the nervousness.

“I know, but the thing is I don’t know what to tell you because there is so much I adore about Y/N. Not just her skill as a writer.” Bucky explains, “We’re quite private and what we share online is just a little glimpse. A glimpse we control to protect ourselves and close friends.”

“I see, how was the experience filming with Steve Rogers again? I know you did a cameo in his movie. So is it all water under the bridge?” Erik raises his eyebrows and the crowd ‘oohs’.

“We’ve worked to revive our friendship, it’s good to have each other back. I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once; was one of the best experiences filming for me. I got to work with incredible people and amazing friends.” Bucky smiles in fond memory.

“That is sweet, how was it working with Y/N? How did you go about it, an experienced actor like yourself and her debut?” Erik watches Bucky carefully for any tidbit of information.

“It goes as any film goes with experienced actors and ones who have a debut. I was once a newbie surrounded by seasoned and far skilled actors. I’m immensely proud of how hard she worked to hone her skills. She wasn’t willing to take the role, but the team behind the movie and the test audience couldn’t see anyone else play the lead.” Bucky explains, he licks his lips before continuing,

“She almost gave up, doubting herself, hell even I doubted myself when I took on this role and so many others. She rose to the challenge as she always does. I have yet to see the final cut of the movie but when I watched her scenes with others and even scenes with myself? She took my breath away.” He smiles.

“On that note, you take a deep breath, Bucky. Everyone put your hands together, may I call upon Y/N Y/L/N, author, executive producer and now actor.” Erik stands gesturing with his hands to the parting curtains as you stand there smiling.

Waving at the crowd you make your way to the centre stage. Bucky steps down reaching to you after Erik greets you with a handshake.

You take Bucky’s hand as he helps you up the step, his hand on your lower back, a grounding gesture. You smile up at him, squeezing his hand.

When you both sit down on the couch your hands are intertwined, he brushes his thumb over your quill tattoo. The two of you part hands.

“Oh no you lovebirds keep holding hands we don’t mind.” Erik grins, you smile at him. The nerves that are eating away at you on the inside stay at bay.

“My first question to you, Y/N. How much media training did you get?”

You chuckle out of nervousness, “Um, quite a bit but it was mostly to speak more rather than keep quiet.”

“It's funny. I got the same lesson.” Bucky adds with a laugh.

“Well you both are damn reclusive and secretive.” Erik declares and the crowd agrees.

“I mean we value our privacy, after the very public ordeal anyone would want that for themselves.” You defend politely.

“True, true. Now what was it like being in front of the camera rather than your favourite device for writing?”

“For one, I couldn’t wear my most comfy hoodie and curl up with my laptop. It was different, difficult but overall a memorable experience. I have newfound respect for actors and the crew that backs them.” You look down at your palms, “I remember one night all of us were hanging out at the hotel, playing UNO. Kate and I were still playing and the guys were off to one corner with Nat. The next day we went in and they did the sweetest thing for the crew, food trucks and other things. It was so very sweet. Our crew is one of the best. I knew them from when I was just an iexecutive producer. So it was nice seeing them rewarded.”

Bucky is about to add onto the topic when Erik cuts him off,

“What about minimum wage and the horrible working conditions? Given the regulations and now with the writer’s strike?”

“The crew working on our movie is paid more than the minimum, a good enough sum and timely payments. It’s contractural. The terms stated before signing on. Former SHIELD had the stipulation clause that the crew is paid first then the actors. The new house formed has the same rules applying.” Bucky recounts to Erik, “About the writer’s strike, indie production houses are agreeing to the terms and conditions from the writers, meeting them with everything required by them. It's the big corps searching for loopholes. As actors we support the writers.”

“The production houses that won bids for my book adaptations have new contracts given to them which stipulate they can only use the filming rights if the writers have their demands fulfilled. I’ve returned advances and dissolved the film rights with two houses that rejected my demands to help respect the writers. Other houses who do agree will get the filming rights.” You explain, Bucky nods. He was proud of you.

“What are you doing for your show writers Erik?” you ask the host.

“I’ve agreed to their terms.” He says, “Of course I’m on their side, you think my jokes would land without them?”

“That is good.” Bucky commends.

“How was it working with Bucky?” Erik smoothens over the little rudeness in his tone.

“Oh god,” You look towards your partner, “Nerve wracking. He is immensely talented. I think Nat has a whole roll of tape that is me just so blown away by James’ talent that I stare at him forgetting my lines.” You smile sheepish, Bucky laughs.

“Oh Nat doesn’t have it, I do.” He tells you.

“Yes and we got a little bit of the tape.” Erik grins.

You cover your face, “This is why I will not be acting ever again.”

“Aw, Feather.” Bucky pulls your hands away from your face just as the clips play.

The dialogues are the ones from the trailer so no spoilers are there. You’re just staring at him, obviously overcome with emotion. You want to look away but every time you’re lost in his talent. Bucky brings you out of it with tenderness.

“Oh and Bucky,” Erik grins mischievously, “Here you are getting absolutely floored by Y/N. Natasha gave us this one.”

Now you watch on with delight as a camera is trained on Bucky watching you act and him completely taken by you and your craft.

“It's the same look I have when I read her books.” He comments.

“It’s true I’ve seen it.” You agree.

The topic shifts back towards the movie and the story. A few more questions about what is next. The interview ends after reading a few thirst tweets for both of you.

Bucky and you both are left red faced.

“I can’t believe there are thirsty tweets about me.” You shake your head, getting out of your very expensive designer jacket and placing it on the hanger.

The bed calls you both, tiredness of the interviews back to back seeping into your bones.

Bucky pauses while taking off his shirt, “Feather, I’d write thirst sonnets about you.” He pulls you close, the dress underneath was with thin straps with sequins upon them. His lips trail along the strap and then the neckline over your breasts.

You feel your nipples pebble in response to his teasing.

“Bucky,” You breathe, your fingers carding through his now shorter hair, “I’m still mad at you for cutting them.”

Bucky nips at your collarbone, leaving his mark upon you. He trails his lips up your neck.

Shivers run down your spine, he hums appreciatively, when you tug on his hair for more of him, “It's long enough for you to hold onto, while my mouth devours my delicious pussy.”

You pull him closer, your lips brush against his, for a breath your lips stay apart and then his tongue peeks out, tracing your bottom lip.

Bucky presses his lips to yours the need to taste every bit of you overriding every rational thought.

Your curves decadent in his large hands, roaming over you.

“You feel perfect in my arms, fuck you’re beautiful Feather.” He praises and you keen as his hands make you sit on the table. Your legs spread apart to accommodate him.

In the haze of the kiss you tug at his hands, he gives them to you. Foreheads touching. You gently take his left palm between yours, slowly taking the glove off. Your lips press to his bionic palm.

Bucky closes his eyes focusing upon the feeling of your lips. No one ever showed his arm so much affection. Treating it as if it was normal. No difference between the flesh and metal.

You repeat the same with his flesh hand.

Then look up at him, “You’re perfect, James.”

He presses his lips to yours once again, hands moving to the straps tugging them downward.

The dress pools at your waist, pushed up as well to expose your thighs for him. Bucky bites his lip, hungry eyes raking over you.

“Fuck I’m the luckiest man alive.” He says sinking to his knees.

Nose brushing along your inner thighs. The scruff of his beard leaves a pleasing sting.

Bucky groans against your cunt as you tug him closer by pulling on his hair. He loved it, loved when you allowed him to please you.

His aching length calls for attention but the scent of you has his mouth water.

“Feather, I’m a starving man.” He warns, your panties pulled down your legs by his teeth. You take him in, eyes dark pools of lust. Shirt half off his shoulders, the scars he carries beautifully on display. Thin blue rims eager for a taste of you. Lips kiss bitten and shining because of your arousal upon them.

You moan, “You’re a fucking divine sight.”

Bucky wastes no time, lips latched around your clit sucking upon it. Your moans and pleas are music to his ears. The taste of you floods his tongue. He groans, tongue greedily demanding more from your sweet walls.

Two fingers curve inside you, while his tongue spells his name on your clit. Your lips part in a prayer of his name. Every fibre in your being tightening and then breaking, then being put back together for Bucky. At his mercy.

He smirks as your arousal floods his mouth, he laps at your folds, your thighs shake and attempt to close. He growls, throwing your right leg over his shoulder and pushing the left to keep his access to his pussy uninterrupted.

His scruff over your folds, his tongue teasing your entrance and his nose rubbing at your clit— you preen, words failing you, pleasure seizing you again.

Bucky pulls away in the slightest, cheeks flushed and chin glistening. None of your erotic fantasies come close to this sight. Not one word you could ever write would do justice to the way this man, you man worships you.

“Bed?” He questions, you nod. Your brain has yet not connected to your mouth, making him laugh.

You hit his chest with a breathless huff. You push at his shirt. He discards his pants somewhere across the floor.

Bucky carries you to the bed, settling between your legs, “I told you I’m starving and my cunt is fucking delicious.” He presses a kiss to your clit, just when you finally find a word to say to him.

It dies on your tongue, a mewl leaving from your throat instead.

Bucky moves his tongue against you in a way that has your hips lifting up from the bed, almost grinding over his mouth for more.

“My dirty little greedy girl.” He nibbles on your clit, your thighs shake, he only continues till you fall apart over and over satiating his hunger when he watches the mix of you and him, coating your inner thighs.

Bucky keeps thrusting into you, gathering his cum and rubbing it on your clit you shudder, sobbing in the overstimulated pleasure. Your nails leave crescents upon his shoulders down to his bicep.

“One more, I know you have one more in you my good fucking—,” he hisses as your walls clench around him, “Greedy girl doesn’t want to let me go is it?”

You feel the pleasure begin to spark across your body.

“It’s your cock baby, take all that you need, milk me all you want. I’m all yours,” Bucky’s mouth descends upon your pebbled nipple, your back arches and his cock meets the spot that has you cum undone for him.

Bucky watches as you still float in the pleasure, his soft kisses over your face, neck and chest ground you to him. You whine when he pulls out, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Just two minutes Feather, need to clean you up.” He promises, covering you with the blanket.

The little sleepy haze is broken when you feel the warm cloth cleaning your thighs.

Your eyes move over his naked form, god he’s perfect, and so damn handsome.

“Why, thank you.” He chuckles, eyes crinkling.

Prettiest smile, you never want it to fade.

“Never will fade as long as I have you in my life.” Bucky kisses your nose, “Yes you’re talking out loud and yes, you’re possibly fucked out. I’m proud.” He helps you sit up and drink some water before he pulls you close to snuggle.

Am I speaking out loud?

You hear his beautiful laugh, reaching up to trace his beautiful face with your palms.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, voice slightly hoarse.

“I love you.” He replies, drawing you closer to his warmth.

“I can't believe you’re the blanket thief.” You comment after a moment.

Bucky loved to cuddle, so much so he hogged the blankets most of the time.

“It’s a trick to have you not move away from me in the middle of the night.” He grins, tapping his temple.

“Smart man, though your grip on me is enough. Plus you’re warm so I wouldn’t move away.” You let him know.

“Absolutely not true this one time you did move away from me.” He recounts the first week.

“I was sweaty!” You defend.

“So was I.”

“Bucky—,”

“Feather—,”

“Well I don’t move away now do I?” You raise a brow and he nods.

“Water under the bridge.” He nods, “Now go to bed or Yelena will kill me for keeping you up.”

“She’s going to kill you anyways for the lovebites and then our make-up artist will.” You giggle.

“You will be on trial for the same thing.” Bucky shrugs, “I mean people wanna talk they will talk. Unless we give them something to talk about and do not speak about it at all.”

“What is on your mind?” You ask as he reaches for his phone.

Bucky grabs his phone and sets the camera to the square orientation. Making sure only the two of both your lips, your love bite clad neck and his love bite clad chest are seen he takes the picture and throws a black and white filter upon it.

And shares it on his stories. You look at him in disbelief. It hardly takes ten minutes before you see the silent notifications roll in and Bucky deletes the story.

“Well we’re getting murdered.” You giggle as Sam’s face takes up Bucky’s screen. He silences the call and puts the phone aside.

“Sleepy time now.” He declares, kissing you deeply.

“I just pack a lot of colour correctors for them.” The make up artist, May sighs at the magazine interviewer covering the backstage process for the premiere.

“Why?” The interviewer questions.

May tilts your head so the gift Bucky left is visible. You blush deeply at the sharp intake of breath.

“This is after three rounds of icing.” She sighs, slathering more colour correctors to cancel the red tones.

“It isn’t that bad.” Bucky comments from his chair. May affixes him with a glare.

“At least she kept her bites in non visible areas.” May still glares at you too.

“You love us.” You pout at her batting your lashes.

“Don’t test that theory too much.” She begins blending.

—————-

You watch the live red carpet on the tv screen. Celebrities who were invited to walk the carpet of your movie. Your movie in so many ways than just one.

The dress for the night is a play on Doll’s blue dress, the one you own. Now reimagined into a gown with a split. That reached your thigh.

The neckline was off shoulder. The sleeves were full and it showed off your curves.

You stare at yourself in the mirror one more time. Nervousness pooling in your stomach. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. Nor of Bucky or Natasha, Loki, Steve, Kate or anyone who worked upon the movie.

There is a knock on the door, it opens with Loki peeking inside. He was wearing his signature colours, a deep green suit with a yellow pocket square to represent his mother. You smile seeing the gesture.

“Hi.” He says, “Is it okay if I come in?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

“You’re visibly nervous and that is completely okay. I’d be worried if you weren’t nervous. I threw up on my first co-star's shoes right before we walked the carpet.” Loki recounts with a laugh.

“Oh god,” Your hand goes to your queasy stomach.

“No, you won’t throw up on Bucky, or any of us for that matter. Y/N, tonight is the culmination of all of your hard work for getting your book out into the world. Tonight please try and enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about the reviews, the comments or anything. Focus on your family alright? We’re all focused upon you.”

You pull Loki into a hug. He returns it with equal happiness. The two of you had become the best of friends as filming went on. Often pulling pranks on set which only Loki was famous for on any movie he did.

“You’re going to do wonderful.” He murmurs before pulling away from the hug, “I’ll see you inside okay?”

You nod, feeling much better. Another knock follows and it's Yelena telling you to head down to the entrance so the car can take Bucky and you to the premiere.

Steve helps your mom into the car she was going to walk the carpet with him. The two of them had bonded over the course of time as well. Her healing something within Steve and him absolutely adoring her and even calling her Ma on several occasions. She loved having a whole roster of kids she had adopted.

Her treatment was going well, the response was good. You all were hopeful of good news once the course of treatment would be up. The doctors themselves were confident at each check up.

Steve turns to you, running over and giving you a hug. Before running back to your mom and their vehicle heading out.

Hayden opens the door for you, you smile at him. Extremely happy that he would drive you to your biggest moment as well.

Bucky stands beside you, he had a meeting right before the premiere. Needing to be in the UK in the next two days to begin his next project.

“How was the meeting?” You ask once the two of you settle into the car.

“It was good, they have accommodated my request to travel back and forth. I know you can’t travel because your book is getting read and your mom’s treatments are on. I’m okay with travelling.” He shrugs, stroking your tattoo with his thumb.

“How did I get so lucky to find you?” You ask him with a smile.

“You were a silhouette in the spotlight and I saw you. And only you saw me. That is all it took.” He smiles, kissing your cheek, “I don’t like how May covered up my marks.” He pouts cutely.

“I don’t either.” You press your lips to his quickly kissing his pout away.

The car stops, Bucky exits first, rounding the car to help you out. He fixes your dress, you fix the skewed lapel.

“Remember what I said to you?” He says over the crowd and the noise that awaits.

“That, I need to focus on you?” You ask, he nods.

“And also to be proud of yourself. This all is what you began all those years ago. Embrace the moment, don't let your nerves get to you. I’m right here but this is your night.” He kisses your forehead.

“Ready?” He offers his hand to you, you take it.

“Ready.”

Flashes so many flashes, you pose with everyone involved. Loki, Steve, Nat, Kate and you absolutely love this one picture of you all with your mom, enveloping her in a hug. Her at the centre feeling all of the love.

There is one picture of her patting your head. Another of her cupping Bucky’s cheeks. Another of her hugging Steve and patting his head.

You take pictures with so many fans, signing books and posters. The entire experience was so surreal. Taking it all in you feel your heart burst with love.

On carpet interviews questions, about the outfits, expectations for the movie. Any small bit of gossip, a whirlwind of faces, smiles and laughs.

Once you cross the threshold to the theatre you sigh. Bucky presses his lips to your temple.

“Do you want to drink something?” He murmurs, you nod.

You smile at him, he always knew to watch out for you. He kisses your temple again before he heads to the table lined with food and beverages.

A tap on your shoulder has you turn. A red haired woman stands there with a smile on her face.

“Um, hello…” you greet, not liking her proximity.

“Hi, I’m from TMZ. I wanted to ask you a few questions.” She explains.

“Oh, um the press docket isn’t until we get inside, you can ask—,”

“How does it feel to finally get what you want? I mean you did use your body for gaining all of this…” she gestures with her hand towards the event.

“Excuse me?” Your brows raised and baffled at the notion.

“Why are you surprised? First you’re associated with Steve Rogers then you conveniently get with Alexander Pierce and suddenly you have Bucky Barnes? Amidst that you falsify your clear consent as an assault by Alexander Pierce? Jeez, where is feminism with you?” She lists off and you can’t find the words to say anything to her.

“I didn’t know we got together?” Steve tilts his head walking towards you, “Also Alexander Pierce did assault her and take advantage of her. It has been proven in court. You can look up the trial to update yourself.”

“Also, Buck, remind me isn’t this MJ? The disgraced reporter? The one who was fired? What was it for?” Steve pretends to think.

“For invasion of privacy, the only reporter with the most restraining orders. Currently breaking the one she has placed upon her by Natasha and myself.” Bucky adds.

Steve nods towards someone on the side, two security personnel come in, grabbing her recording devices and making sure everything is deleted before escorting her out.

“This is always going to follow isn’t it?” You ask both of them.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, Steve doesn’t know how to tell you.

“It will, but at one point your achievements will outweigh it all. He will be a part of your history, that history in which you helped bring to light his crimes and helped victims fight him.” Natasha says, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t publish anything. She’s been a thorn in our side for years.”

“Thank you.” You hug her, “That helps not dwell on it too much.”

“Yeah I couldn’t have said it that way.” Steve agrees.

“Yes because you have all the stupid with you, punk.” Bucky teases him.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Jerk.”

“Last question to our author and lead,” All eyes turn to you.

You nod, grabbing the mic, “Sure.”

“There is a countdown on your author website, as of today it has changed to hours and right now it says two minutes. You haven’t explained anything.” He leaves it open ended.

You waste a few seconds contemplating the answer, “Oh that countdown was two fold actually, it is for the premiere and well, my next book. A steamy age gap romance with mafia vibes…” You grin as the fans sitting in the audience cheer.

“Do we have a name yet?” The reporter questions.

“We do but that will be announced in a month with the cover.” You grin as everyone groans.

“How spicy is the spice?” Another reporter questions, “I mean I was floored by the third book.”

“There might be a bit more than that one.” You tease, “You should ask James though, he’s read a snippet of the spice.”

Bucky visibly blushes, shifting in his seat.

“Lucky ass.” Steve whispers into the very functional mic.

Bucky runs a palm over his jaw, fixing you with a feigned glare, “I read the snippet and your favourite author and I didn’t leave her little study for a few hours.”

A chorus of ‘oohs’ rang out.

“What? We were editing!” He looks at the audience in feigned scandal, he turns to you, “You have spawned dirty minded people my little—,”

“James!” You cut him off.

“I wasn’t going to say that!” He defends.

“Don’t lie.” You narrow your eyes. He just grins sweetly.

“Well, avoiding the truth isn’t lying…” He chuckles.

“Alright that's enough, your moms are here.” Natasha says in her director voice.

“Sorry mom.” All the cast sing songs to annoy her.

“With that we close the press meet and the movie will begin in five minutes.” Maria announces.

Loki, Bucky and Steve line up at the edge of the staircase, helping everyone get down the steps.

“Men written by women!” A voice declares.

The three of them chuckle but you wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment.

Soon enough the lights are dimmed, and you all wait with bated breath to know what the thoughts are, you couldn’t stomach watching the final cut.

Natasha, Maria and Nick are the ones inside. Joined by Sam, Kate and Yelena. The rest of you head to the hotel to hang out in the room back at the hotel.

More than an hour after the premiere you all venture online. The hashtag is typed across several platforms.

‘When you watch ITIMYIMDO you realise that the book was given absolute justice. It is one of those adaptations that you cannot complain about. The raw performance was delivered by Barnes, with Laufeyson being the understanding best friend. This duo is wonderful across all roles they play. I do not think any awards committee will ignore these two and if they do they would have to have some serious explanation to offer.’ – The TIMES

‘Debut Novel turned Debut Movie— Author to Actor and you can see the work put in by Y/N. Though some scenes where light hearted tones felt put up, her emotional delivery and comedic timing is stellar and worth exploring should she choose to shut down her laptop and cast aside the pen.’ — Vanity Fair

‘Their chemistry in real life, though limited to the public, explodes on screen. Rhys and Doll make a pair that puts your favourite romance couples to shame. This is the modern romance we were waiting for and we got it.’ — Rolling Stone

@.imetbuckyonce: okaY LISTEN I LOVED THE MOVIE I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY SLANDER TOWARDS MY QUEEN Y/N. SHE IS PERFECT. BUCKY IS PERFECT. KATE IS PERFECT. LOKI IS PERFECT AND OH MY GOD WHY DID STEVE ROGERS PLAYING A BAD DUDE FEEL SO SHIVER INDUCING YUMMY?????? WHEN HE SAID THAT LINE???????

@.booksandbarneslover: @.imetbuckyonce I ABDOSLYELT AGREE IM FERAL FOR VILLAIN STEVE *LOGS ONTO AO3 FOR BADBOY!STEVE X READER*

‘In Steve Rogers’ history of playing the good guy we have him play yet another villain and something about Hollywood’s notorious good guy being oh so bad it is a wonder to watch. There is no redemption for his character but we love him the way he is and the portrayal will be a feather in his cap.’ — Buzzfeed UK

@.stevierogers: IWUEEHNADJDOEOEJ STEVE

@.upallnighttogetloki: LOKI LAUFEYSON YOU ARE A DREAMBOAT. SUPPORTIVE BESTIE CHECK LOOKS AMAZING SHIRTLESS CHECK A MAN WRITTEN BY A WOMAN CHECK. FUCK I DONT HAVE A SONGLE BAD THING TO SAY

‘A good attempt at a book adaptation, however if a seasoned plus size actress was taken instead of the author in a pseudo-nepotistic manner this movie could be worthy of more praise. While the seasoned actors and actresses are brilliant to watch the movie falls flat when the debutant is on screen. Meh, Dolores would have been better.’ — Sharon Carter, HYDRA.

“Of course she’d criticise you.” Yelena clicks her tongue.

@.dolores: just saw ITIMYIMDO and honestly? Y/N fucking killed it. Jealous fuckers shut up.

“And Dolores just defended me.” You look up from your phone. The opinions were across all spectrums. You just hoped it would be a success for the sake of the friends you made.

Maybe even line up prestigious awards for Kate, Bucky, Loki and Steve. They deserved it. The recognition, the opportunity for more roles that made them happy.

Bucky wraps his arms around your waist. Chin resting on your shoulder, watching you read praises specific to himself.

“I think you should stop reading about me and read the praise about you.” He grabs your phone typing in your name and watches as you read the praise. Each word makes your chest feel tighter with emotion.

“You did more than good, Feather. You are phenomenal.” Bucky praises.

“Couldn’t have done it without you all backing me and being by my side.” You kiss his cheek.

“Are we getting kisses for being supportive?” Steve grins, Bucky glares at him.

“On the cheek, yes.” You giggle as Steve leans towards you. Bucky pushes Steve away. The blonde only laughs at his friend.

Your man leads you to the small balcony overlooking the city.

“You’re cute.” You kiss his jaw again. Bucky grumbles, protectively pulling you closer.

“I’ll show you cute.” He warns hand moving the slit of the dress.

“James.” You warn, but don’t say anything to stop him.

“I’ll just taste you, I know you’re still sore.” He kisses the spot on your neck, “You remember that bookmark you got me?”

You nod, breath hitching as he continues to kiss and nip at your neck.

“I got you one too. I saw your tagged posts. You know I adore the edits your readers make for your books. I came across these bookmarks that double up as handcuffs.” He smirks as your hips seek him.

“I’m going to cuff your hands, my dirty little writer. You’re going to look so pretty, dripping for me. Then,” He cups your breast with his right hand and his left cupping your cunt,

“I’ll fill you up with my cum. Keep you still cuffed and make you warm my cock.” He tugs on your earlobe.

You moan softly, hips moving against his palm for friction. His words make you needy.

“You want to know why, Feather?” He questions, hands moving away from where you need him, instead turning you around.

His index finger tucked under your chin, making you look up into the most tempting storm of darkened blue, “Because while I’m gone, I want you to feel me.” He presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

You set the pen down. Moving your wrists for a much needed break. The signing was successful. The display of your latest book is done wonderfully by the independent bookstore. Three months passed by in a blur, a beautiful, happy blur.

Your phone was silent, save for the occasional texts from your mom. You frown, Bucky was supposed to text you. He had a day off from filming, you were worried he had fallen ill working himself too hard.

Sam had told you to make sure most of the video-calls happened along with dinner or lunch. Bucky tended to skip eating out of his nervousness and body dysmorphia when scenes that required him to show his body were scheduled. You were proud of him for trying to push through the negative self talk and getting the help he needed.

Some days all he wanted was you curled up by his side. Other days he craved for you to show him how you saw him. Your touch, your words, you being there for him.

The line outside is welcomed in, doors opening after a brief recess. You pick up the pen again. Book after book and conversation after conversation.

“Just give me a second please,” you request the oncoming person. You quickly shoot a worried text to Bucky as they place a familiar book on the table.

You stare at the self-published version of I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once. Your eyes get misty at it, the book has sticky tabs and other type of annotations all across itself.

You look up at familiar blue eyes. Bucky sheepishly smiles at you.

“Remember when I said I haven’t read your book? I hadn’t read the publisher’s version. I have read yours and I want you to sign it.” He smiles.

“What should I write?” You open the book.

“I’ve written a question, just answer it.” He shrugs.

You look down at his writing and back up at him.

A watery grin on both your faces. You hide what you write, closing the book and handing it back to him.

You watch him as he reads it. His eyes finding yours and your favourite crinkles by his eyes smile gracing his features.

@.winnies: Hello Everyone! Winnie’s will remain closed for the next two nights in view of private events. We are open for brunch till 3 PM on these two days. Please make sure you have made your reservations and confirmed them.

We look forward to serving you regularly following these two special nights.

HEADLINES:

All The Stars Descend Upon The Trail To Winnie’s For Celebrating The Continued Success Of ITIMYIMDO! The Entire Crew Was Invited!

Awards Season Is Here! And The Nomination Committee Did Not Disappoint In This Year’s Nominees. Check This List Out!

Bucky Barnes, Loki Laufeyson, Steve Rogers All Nominated At This Year’s People’s Choice and Emmy Awards. We Cannot Wait To See These Men In Suits and Swoon! Here Are Their Best Looks Ranked!

The Women On Board ITIMYIMDO All Secure Nominations As Well.

Clean Sweep At Securing Nominations In All Award Shows. The ITIMYIMDO Cast And Crew Overjoyed.

Extended Scenes and Director’s Cut Of ITIMYIMDO Releasing Soon.

Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N Share The Sweetest Picture Of Their Silhouettes At Sunset At Winnie’s.

Insiders Say Night Two At Winnie’s Was A Private “Close Friends And Family Only” Event But We Have The Scoop!

A.N.: thank you for waiting for this one, I'm sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for all your love on my story.

Taglist: @stevesmewmew @elle14-blog1 @crazyunsexycool @sebsgirl71479 @pandaxnienke @slutforsexyseabass @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @pandaxnienke @vampire7595 @buckyinluv @almostcontentcreator @calwitch

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sokkastyles · 3 months

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ATLA LA Ep2 Let's go:

I love that they kept a lot of the original music, but one thing I could have done without is the generic three-note chord to signal a cut to a scene with a villainous character. Those specific notes have been parodied too often for me to take it seriously. It's one thing that always jarred me in the original and it is especially jarring in live action to hear music that signifies a cartoon villain is about to walk on screen.

Zuko throwing things and chewing the scenery my beloved

"He ran! He's a coward!" I do love the angle of Zuko being confronted with the reality of what he thought would be a glorious destiny. There are two reasons Zuko associates not fighting with cowardice. One is because of what he believes about the fire nation as a whole, but also because of what his father made him believe about himself.

I do like that Aang is identifying that controlling the Avatar State is a problem he needs to solve. It gives me hope that the writers are trying to actually flesh out that plot point where the original failed. I don't like that there's been no mention yet of him needing to learn waterbending. Which brings me to...

Yes, Katara, it IS unbelievable that you've learned waterbending in a day all because Aang said some mumbo to you about energy. That's why I don't believe it. Katara does grow fast in the original, too, but it still feels organic. Here it doesn't and once again, it feels like they are giving that credit all to Aang and I hate that. I also hate that this is Katara's motivation rather than the Katara who took it upon herself to make sure the Avatar learned waterbending whether he wanted to or not.

There is something missed by Kanna giving Katara the waterbending scroll. Idk, trying not to compare to the original because I did want Kanna to be more active in Katara's life. But I get the same feeling of loss here as Aang already having Appa's whistle. Those two things in the original were part of a point about the tragedy of cultural attrition, that Aang has to buy back a cultural artifact that the seller does not even know the true meaning of, that Katara has to steal hers from pirates who already stole from her culture. It also begs the question that if Kanna had that scroll the whole time, why didn't she show it to Katara before, who was so desperate to learn waterbending?

Zuko talking about being gone three years, clearly ecstatic at the thought that his banishment will come to an end, while Iroh looks like he's about to send his son to his death for the second time. Kudos to the actors' faces expressing so much in that one scene.

The actor for Sokka is very good-looking.

Aang and Katara playing in the water was cute, but they seem even farther apart in maturity here than in the original. Even that scene comes across as a much older sister honoring a young child. I don't get a sense of Katara as someone yearning to be a child.

She's not wrong about the Avatar bringing connections, but Aang showing off isn't really the best illustration of that concept.

Okay, so, I saw some people complaining about Suki wanting to leave home "because of a boy" and like, that also happened in the original. What feels kinda pat here is that we've also added overprotective mom to the mix, which I don't love. When I said I wanted Suki's mom I meant I wanted to know how Suki became a warrior, I wanted to see more women bonding with other women and women's autonomy being treated as normal. Not whatever this is.

So they don't already know Zhao here? That's less interesting. Also "actual royalty." Another log to keep the "Zhao is a royal bastard" theory burning. Heh, burning.

Sokka is still a prick about girls fighting, everyone can rest easy now. Also his reaction when Suki tries to flirt with him the same way he does with her is exactly how that would play out in real life.

Aang avoiding fighting out of fear of his own power adds an interesting dimension to his character which is only briefly touched on in the original.

Zuko and Katara 1v1 yes!!!

Katara flashbacking to her mom's death during her first real fight is a nice touch.

KYOSHI!!!

Zhao wasn't very impressive until Zuko accidentally gave him a foothold, then that shit-eating grin was great.

I'll hold off on really commenting on this because I haven't gotten that far yet, but I heard that Ozai is more willing to praise Zuko here and it just does not make a lot of sense to me, not only because that is not how that kind of parent works, but also because hearing the news from Zhao, who would 100% play up Zuko having discovered and then LOST the Avatar, would just make Ozai see Zuko as more of a failure for having come close. Unless Zuko does something spectacular in the next few episodes I don't see Ozai being impressed.

#atla live action

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 9 months

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The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6407 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

~~~

Spencer stared at the blank screen, mortification petrifying him in place. He was unable to tear his eyes away from where'd he'd last seen your face just before Walter Khan's boot crushed their feed.

Him, Hotch and Kate had arrived back at the station by the time you'd been placed in the car. The further you were driven, the more glitchy the feed became. Some words didn't come through, images flickered every now and again. The camera wasn't able to catch all of what went down during the meeting, but you'd made sure to get a good look at the big seller, knowing your team would use his image to find out who he was and find out where he would be hiding out.

Spencer had to hold back vomit whenever Khan went close to you, no doubt putting his disgusting, murderous hands all over you. Even more so when you'd been taken to the Warehouse and saw the girls, saw the torture display in the middle of the room. How many girls had dangled in the middle of that room and suffered his torture? How young had they been?

When you began walking to the meeting room, Spencer had thought you'd made it out of there. That you were finally coming home.

But you had turned around, ran back for those innocent girls. You had been caught, your pained cries whenever Walter punched you still ringing in Spencer's ears.

The worst part, though, was Khan had known the whole time.

'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

That's when the line went dead, squashed under Khan's boot. But not before he caught a glimpse of your face. Blood gushing from your nose down your chin, hand clutching at your ribs where you'd been punched. However, a fire of defiance burned bright in your E/C eyes, visible even from the low angle.

But that did nothing to quell the rising wave of anger and fear in Spencer, raging like a tsunami higher and higher with each passing second the screen remained dead.

Where you had disappeared from in the blink of an eye; and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.

'Get it back up,' Spencer found himself demanding. To who, he really didn't know. When no one answered, the wave rose higher. 'Get it back up!'

'I-I'm trying!" Penelope cried over the speaker phone. 'Wherever they took her, they did well to make sure no cell towers were near it. Or they have really good cell blocks that pretty much render them invisible. That's what made the feed so glitchy, they're like in the middle of nowhere.'

'What about the camera? Can you track it?'

'Yes, but again, the cell blocks blocked that signal too. I can't tell you where they went outside of lower Manhattan.'

The urge to scream was almost unbearable. Instead, Spencer drove his fingers through his unruly hair, pulling at longer strands harshly to get his mind to focus on something else momentarily. This couldn't be happening. You were safe, you were home free. Damnit, why did you have to go back?

'Alert train stations south bound that drivers and passengers should keep their eyes out for those girls along any tracks,' Hotch commanded to Holt. 'Send as many officers out along those tracks from the nearest stations. Those girls are the key to finding L/N, but they're being hunted so we need to find them first.'

'Of course,' Holt managed to get out, his face pale with terror. Good, Spencer thought. Holt at least had half a mind to look guilty, considering he was the one that put you there.

'I'll go with you, we'll need as many people on the ground as we can,' Derek offered, to which Hotch nodded his approval and Derek jogged after Holt as he ran back into the office.

Spencer's feet moved before his mouth did, halfway to the door before he said, 'I'm going, too.'

'No,' Hotch said. 'I need you to stay here and work with Garcia on a geographical profile on Walter Khan. Find out everything about him, more importantly whether he has any major properties south of Manhattan he could be operating out of.'

Spencer opened his mouth to argue. How could Hotch expect him to sit idly by a map while you were with the unsub being beaten or worse...

A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him to look down at a concerned-looking JJ. 'Don't worry, Spence,' she said softly. 'Kate and I will go help as well. You and Pen are the only ones who can figure this out, so the sooner you do that, the quicker we can bring Y/N home, okay?'

Usually, the logical answer presented itself in Spencer's mind first. What JJ said was the most logical explanation, he knew. Even so, his heart yearned to find Walter Khan and wring his neck for all he was worth. It was an overwhelming urge, similar to the one he had when on his dilaudid addiction many years ago.

The memories of what that addiction did to him - how it almost destroyed his life - was what brought him back to his logical conclusion.

He nodded at JJ and stepped aside so her and Kate could follow Derek. Kate gave him a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of his upper arm, then her and JJ were gone. That left himself, Rossi, Penelope on the phone, and Hotch.

'Dave,' Hotch said, 'You and I are going down to the Chateau and questioning Madame Lacroix. She's got to be back there by now. And she's going to tell us everything she knows about the operation this time.'

'Whether she likes it or not,' Rossi added, nodding at Hotch in agreement as he made to pick up his coat from the chair he'd previously been sitting on.

'Waitwaitwaitwait!' The high pitch urgency of Penelope's voice halted Hotch and Rossi's movements as her face appeared on the huge screen, scrunched with worry.

'What is it, Garcia?' Hotch asked.

'I've been trying to track Y/N's camera location since she got to wherever they're holding her,' she explained, her voice a little high-pitched in desperation. She continued typing furiously on her keyboard as she did.

'You found her?' Spencer asked, his voice desperate, hopeful.

'I wish I could say yes, boy wonder,' she apologised. 'However, while tracking, an unknown window popped up. Check this out...'

Another few clicks on her end and a window - the one she found - popped up beside Penelope's face. The image in that window, however, had Spencer's stomach plummeting through the ground.

You hung with your hands above your head by a chain in the middle of a room, your now bare feet just scraping along the hay that lay all around the floor. You were back in the Warehouse, in the place where you'd shown Spencer and the team where the girls were held and-

'Oh my God,' Penelope breathed out, voice trembling with horror at your beaten state. The camera appeared to be setup on a tripod, keeping your entire body in frame. They'd all seen you fight, but only now could they see the damage you'd taken.

Blood dripped from your nose, down your chin and had already stained the front of your dress a deeper scarlet. Your breaths were laboured, as if you were concentrating on keeping yourself from passing out. You were too far away to make out any other injuries, but Spencer had no doubt the bruises hadn't come out just yet.

'Garcia,' Hotch began, but even in her shocked state, Penelope answered.

'Already on it, sir,' she said, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks to type into her keyboard. 'Triangulating where the feed is coming from.'

It was like the world was slowing down for Spencer the longer he looked at you hanging there. The team had always joked that his IQ always slashed in half whenever he was around you. But that was usually because he couldn't find the words to talk to you properly, how to articulate in the right words just exactly how you made him feel.

In a way, the same thing was happening to him right now, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think because of terror. Because of Walter Khan, who finally strolled into frame, suit jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His rings glinted under the fluorescent lights as he waved at the camera, a smug grin on his face.

'Hi there, FBI,' he said in a sing-song voice. He looked over his shoulder, shuffled so the camera could see you again. 'Say hi to your friends, Y/N. I'm sure they're just... so happy to see you.'

You didn't respond, keeping your gaze just south of the camera, barely blinking. 'She's disassociating,' Rossi stated, recognising like Spencer, that far away look in your eyes. 'She's preparing for torture.'

Spencer gulped as Khan walked over to you slowly, prowling around you like a predator admiring his catch for the night. He remained silent as he did, and Spencer wondered for a moment if that was all he was going to do.

With the speed of a striking snake, however, he gripped your chin with one hand, the chain holding you rattling as you tried and failed to pull away. Grunts of effort escaped you as he forced you to look at the camera.

'Now, now, Y/N,' he cooed, brushing your loose hair away from your face with his free hand. 'There's no need to be shy. Say something.'

Before you could even react, he slammed his fist into your stomach, ripping a pained groan from you. But not a scream. You bit your lip hard. You probably didn't want to give Khan the satisfaction of hearing your pain. A small, hopeful part inside Spencer warmed with pride at your resilience.

Khan let go of your face and took a step back, eyes raking you up and down with a sick, sadistic admiration. 'So you think you're tough, huh?' he challenged, walking to stand behind you and place both hands on your right shoulder. 'Come on, don't hold back those beautiful sounds, baby.'

In one sharp motion, he pressed either side of your shoulder in opposite directions, causing a loud pop to echo through the room. A sharp squeak escaped your lips, but you bit down on your lip again, allowing nothing else out. The light glinted off the tears that brimmed your E/C eyes, but they did not fall. You would not let them, Spencer realised.

Khan's lips split into a sadistic grin, one that clearly revelled in the pain he brought to you. Fire stirred in the pit of Spencer's stomach, which then spread through his limbs, to the tips of his fingers, toes and head.

Never in his life had he had the greater urge to physically harm someone than Walter Khan in that moment.

'So beautiful,' Khan continued, his gentle strokes across your bloodied chin a stark contrast to his previous harsh movement. 'I knew you'd be my favourite the moment you walked through the door. You're not like other girls...'

Bile rose in Spencer's throat when Khan leaned in close to you and tried to kiss you on the lips. You still had enough strength in you to turn away so he brushed your cheek instead. When Khan tried to tilt your head to kiss you properly, you lashed out with your teeth, catching his upper lip and yanking on it. Hard.

Khan pulled back at the sudden attack with an agonised cry, clasping both hands on his lip. Blood seeped through his hands, and when he pulled away, Spencer saw that Khan's teeth and chin were covered in blood.

'Bitch,' he swore, slamming a fist a little higher than your stomach this time, no doubt breaking some ribs. You sucked in air loudly, your gasp masking the cry that Spencer could tell wanted to come out. God, she must be in so much pain. It sickened Spencer knowing what was happening to you and not being able to do anything about it.

'Garcia, anything?' Hotch asked, his usually steady voice cracking with worry as he continued to look at the screen.

'I'm trying, sir. I'm trying!' she cried.

As if sensing their urgency, Khan looked back to the camera and walked back over until only he was in the frame. Drops of blood stained his white shirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he grinned maniacally into the camera. Although Spencer knew he couldn't see them, he felt like Khan was looking directly at him, taunting him, challenging him.

'By the time you find her,' he began, 'she'll be dead. And I'll be long gone. Until next time, FBI.'

Walter Khan's smile was the last thing Spencer saw before the screen went black and the window closed and now it was only him, Penelope, Hotch and Rossi again.

'I-I'm sorry, sir,' Penelope managed out, her voice barely higher than a whisper. 'I-I-I couldn't f-find her. The signal was being rerouted all across the world.'

'We've got to move fast,' Hotch said, and him and Rossi were gone.

Spencer didn't say a word to begin with, unable to get the image of you hanging in that torture chamber out of his head.

By the time you find her, she'll be dead.

He never thought anyone of his team mates would go out being killed in action. Plenty have come and gone from the team, but not been killed. In some naive way, he figured you all were invincible - that nothing would tear you apart.

But after discovering Gideon dead only a few weeks ago, that fantasy of the team staying together forever was cracked. With your life now on the line, too, the cracks were starting to get bigger, with some pieces falling away entirely.

'Spencer,' Penelope's gentle voice brought him out of his own bubble of despair. 'I'm so sorry.'

The overwhelming urge to scream welled up in him - he didn't quite know for who or for what he wanted to scream at, just that it sounded like a better action to take than punching someone. But he didn't scream.

Instead, he gathered himself and turned to look at Penelope, face steeled by sheer will because he had to keep it together if he wanted to bring you home. 'It's Khan who should be sorry,' he replied, voice steady with threat. 'Let's get to work.'

~~~

Pain. It's all you felt. Even three hours later after Khan's beating, you still felt the ghost of his fist pounding into your stomach, into your ribcage. A sharp, piercing pain ricocheted through them whenever you inhaled too quickly. Definitely two or three broken, you concluded.

You laid on the hay on the floor. Khan had lowered your chain which alleviated some pain and pressure from your dislocated shoulder and bruising wrists. But he hadn't done it to help you. 'Don't want you breaking too soon, Y/N,' he had whispered to you when he'd laid you gently to rest. And from his accompanying smile, you knew it was just all a game to him.

He'd been gone for three hours - counting the time helped you forget the pain and terror wracking your body. Despite that, you hadn't allowed yourself to sleep. Daylight seeped through the top windows, bathing you in a warm glow that made you shiver with momentary bliss. You didn't realise how cold you were until the rays hit you.

The metallic taste of blood still haunted your lips even now that your nose had stopped running with it. It still throbbed though, but it was a dull ache in comparison to your shoulder. You could only imagine how rough you looked, and not in a good way.

The thought made you smile, if only for a moment.

The soft patter of footsteps made you sit upright despite your pain, made you pull your hands close to your chest and look at the door as it opened. You kept your face neutral as you watched Walter Khan walk in alone. He wore a new suit today: navy blue with a lilac undershirt and a navy tie with lighter blue and purple flowers embroidered onto it randomly. God, he was pretentious in every manner of the word.

He didn't walk to you straight away as you expected. Instead, he walked over to the table of torture devices to a remote hanging from the ceiling just above it. He pressed the upper button and suddenly you were jerked upwards as the chain retracted higher. You couldn't contain the yelp of pain that escaped you as your arms were pulled harshly over your head once more, placing intense pressure on your throbbing shoulder once more. He let go of the button just before your feet left the ground entirely.

Satisfied, he grabbed a clean towel and a bucket that sat underneath the table. He picked them both up and walked over to you, placed them both on the ground as he continued to look you over. He did that for a minute in silence before you couldn't take it anymore.

'What?' you asked in mock confusion. 'Have I got something on my face?'

You hated how that brought a smile to his ugly face. 'You really should lay off on the moxie, sweetheart,' he said, crouching to wet the towel in the bucket before standing back up to continue talking. 'I really do like that in a girl.'

'Girl, huh? That your preferred age?'

He shrugged, bringing the towel up to your face. Before you could lean away, he used his free hand to grip your chin, keeping you with a firm hold in place as he dabbed the wet towel across your chin, around your nose, and across your lips.

He was cleaning you up.

You were more confused than disgusted. Perhaps a little relieved to be rid of the taste of blood finally, but you would never admit that. If his goal was to kill you, why bother cleaning you up?

His dabs at your face were uncharacteristically soft. 'You've done this before,' you said, only now realising how hoarse your throat was from dehydration and the cold air.

He nodded, his eyes never straying from his task. 'I prefer my girls to be... cleaner than other ones.' He meant other prostitutes, other establishments, you realised. It was a compulsion, even knowing you weren't one of his "girls".

'Would you have to clean Roxy and the others up, too?' you asked despite knowing the answer. 'You get off on seeing others bleed, don't you Khan. It wasn't enough that you would use them, strip them of their dignity, as if they were just toys.'

One second you were breathing air, the next you were choking underneath the crushing pressure that was Khan's grip. His hold was so strong it had you seeing stars in seconds.

'I would stop talking if I were you, bitch,' he hissed, venom dripping from every word. His calm demeanour remained intact, but even with your blurred vision you saw an animalistic rage burning in his eyes.

A caged animal just waiting to be unleashed.

'You don't know anything about me,' he continued. 'And you don't know the half of what I am capable of.'

His grip on you eased a little but not completely. However, it was enough for you to find your voice again. 'I know,' you started, voice slightly wheezy from the lack of air, 'you must have suffered under the hands of someone, probably a woman in the prostitution business, when you were younger. Otherwise... why would you hate women so much?'

He gave you a strange look, one that was sceptical, angry, and intrigued at the same time. Good, if he was off guard, he might slip up and give you something of value.

'Was it your mother?' you asked. 'A sister, aunt?' When he didn't answer you continued. 'Whoever it was must be the reason why you feel as if you've been let down your entire life. That's why you built this empire, isn't it? But even now, successful and thriving off others' pain... that person made you feel you are not enough, and so nothing ever will be. But that person is gone, and you can't show them how successful you've been. That's why you hurt others, right? Because, not only can't you hurt her, you refuse to hurt the one person you hate the most... yourself.'

He stepped back from you completely, and, for the first time, his calm facade breaks to show slivers of horror and shock at your observation. Looks like I hit the nail on the head.

He looked at you for a moment longer, that haunted expression on his face making him look more sick as he shadows of birds flew over his face. You became concerned when he suddenly ran out of the room, leaving you hanging with a clean face and more questions than answers.

You had gotten under his skin; he'd shown you a weak point in his life that you could use against him. He'd looked rattled, which made you more scared than when he was calm. Walter Khan didn't strike you as the kind of man that didn't always make sure he had the upper hand in every situation he walked into. But when he didn't, when he was backed into a corner...

Caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

'What have I done?' you asked into the empty room, but you were still surprised when no one answered back.

~~~

When his vision began splitting in two, Spencer rubbed at his tired eyes. He'd been staring at the map the police station had provided for over five hours now. Him and Penelope had found nothing - no properties in his name, no previous history in the areas, nothing.

But Spencer had kept looking though, refusing to believe that Walter Khan's trail went cold here. Not when he was doing who knew what to you. It was the only thought that kept him motivated, kept his tired eyes from closing entirely on him despite their great protest.

The rising sun wasn't helping with his vision either. After being awake all night, the introduction to natural light and blue skies was a shock to the system he was still adjusting to.

'Any updates from Morgan, JJ or Kate?' he asked, his voice rumbling with exhaustion.

Penelope had remained on the video feed since the others had left, refusing to leave Spencer alone. Maybe she thought he would do something reckless without supervision. If he was being honest, he couldn't blame her for thinking that, not when the murderous urge to strangle Khan with all Spencer's might tingled the tips of his fingers.

Or maybe that was the twelve cups of coffee he'd had in the past five hours finally kicking in.

'Not yet, sorry.' Penelope said wistfully, blinking several times as she continued looking at a screen off to the side of the camera. Even in her tired state, she refused to rub at her face like Spencer in order to preserve her glorious makeup. Spencer had to admit it was impressive. She had a lot more self control than she gave herself credit for.

Just the thought alone had him rubbing his eyes again. 'Are you sure there isn't anything we've missed? What about Q25, Garcia? What's there?'

'Nothing but trees once more, boy wonder.' She heaved a sad, frustrated sigh. 'We've been looking at the same area for hours now and still nothing! What am I doing wrong?'

'It's not you, Garcia,' Spencer offered politely. Truthfully, he simultaneously felt no one was doing enough to find you, and yet they were exhausting everything they could to do so. But he was the one who promised to bring you home, who said it would all be over soon.

It was his fault you were still not found. There was something he wasn't seeing, and every second his supposedly big brain spent trying to figure it out was another second you could be being tortured.

He didn't let the thought that maybe you were already dead linger too long. Not when Hotch and Rossi stormed into the room, exhaustion and anger lining their weary faces. Spencer glanced behind them to see Madame Lacroix and two other men - one older with grey hair, the other much younger - being escorted into holding cells down the corridor.

'Madame Lacroix was a dead end,' Hotch explained before anyone could ask. 'But we managed to expose them for their involvement in Khan's business, and also the other illegal trades they've all been dealing with on the side. L/N's reports and photographs should be enough evidence to charge them on at least that.'

'But we can't bust them just yet on Khan,' Rossi added, his tone defeated. 'Any luck on the geo-profile?'

Spencer shook his head regrettably. 'There are no properties or anything that may indicate he has ties in the direction we think he's operating out of.'

'It's either just woodland or innocent estate living,' Penelope added. 'All names check out, they're not aliases.'

'Morgan, JJ, and Kate better find those girls soon then,' Rossi said. 'They seem to be our only guide to where Khan is hiding out.'

'The thing that is odd to me though,' Hotch started, 'is why he is hanging around. Why not kill L/N knowing she's an agent? Why not skip town or relocate as soon as possible?'

'Because it's a compulsion now,' Spencer found himself saying. He wasn't sure if it was from lack of sleep that he sounded delusional, but he kept talking. He needed to talk, anything to keep his mind off the alternatives. 'Y/N engrained herself so much into his operation that he may have deluded himself into thinking he can make her one of his girls for real.'

'So he'll keep her and use her just like the others,' Rossi said grimly. 'And when she eventually lets him down - as they all have - he'll kill her.'

'We'll find her before it gets to that point,' Hotch said so assuredly that Spencer almost believed it. But the odds were against them, and time was running out.

As if the universe was listening in, Penelope's gasp sent tremors of terror through Spencer as they all turned to her on the screen. 'Guys! The feed is back online!'

'Pull it up and start tracking it,' Hotch ordered, and Penelope didn't need telling twice as she did just that.

You were hanging again, but the blood that covered the lower half of your face was now gone. Your dress was ruffled and dirty in some places, and straws of hay were tangled in your messy hair. He must've lowered you for the remainder of the night, but from the dark circles under your weary eyes, Spencer guessed you hadn't slept.

'He cleaned her up,' Rossi noticed too.

'That's a good thing right?' Penelope said, pausing her tracking for a second.

'No,' Spencer replied. 'It means he's got more in store for her.'

'You were right, Reid. It's a compulsion,' Rossi added.

'Keep tracking, Garcia,' Hotch said.

And there he was.

Walter Khan entered the frame, but instead of taunting them through the camera like last time, he walked straight over to you as if the camera wasn't even on. He grasped your chin, causing you to jerk backwards with a gasp.

'How did you know that?' he asked, voice tight and restrained. When you didn't answer, he pulled you closer with a harsh tug that caused the chains to rattle. 'How did you know?!'

'Lucky... Lucky guess, I suppose,' you replied, eyes flicking from Khan to the camera and back. Something had happened between the last feed and now, Spencer concluded. Some interaction that has brought out the frantic Khan.

'No!' He slapped you, sending you spinning around on the chain. When you swung back towards the camera, the sun highlighted the blood on your lip, how it trembled as you did. 'You knew about my life! No one does! So how would an undercover agent of all people know?'

'Maybe you're just... not as slick as you think you are,' you said in between haggard breaths. Spencer could only imagine how much pain you were in. He was both extremely proud of and extremely terrified for you.

Khan let out a growl that rattled the conference room it was that loud. He lashed out with a hard punch to your gut, then a slanted punch on your knee, receiving a loud crunch and crack in return.

For the first time since being caught, you screamed. It was the most horrible sound Spencer had ever heard in his life - even worse than the gunshot that killed Maeve. It echoed through the Warehouse, a guttural, pained sound that would haunt not only Spencer's dreams but Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope's too.

You gathered yourself quickly and bit down on your lip, silencing your cries. Sunlight showed the tears that gathered at your eyes, still refusing to fall. But Spencer could tell it was taking all you had to keep it together. You knew they were watching. You probably were holding it together for them.

The pride and terror he felt for you was overwhelming to a point his knees almost buckled. But if you could keep it together while being tortured, he could do it too.

Once you'd calmed your breathing, you looked back at Khan, hate in your beautiful E/C eyes. 'Beating me... will get you nowhere... I refuse... to break to you.'

Everyone held their breaths as you held your stare with Khan, and Spencer realised it then.

It hit him in consistent waves that made it hard to catch his breath or even fully realise what was happening. It was how you stared down the crook man, unrelenting, unwavering, unbreakable. It was how, even at you most vulnerable, you made sure to put on a brave face for the team, for him. He hadn't dared think it before - not after Maeve. But the heavy thuds of his heart couldn't be mistaken.

Khan contemplated you for a moment, and then pulled out a pocket knife from his pants. He was calm again which Spencer didn't like one bit. 'Very well, then. You want to act tough?' He didn't wait for a reply as he sliced the top button of your dress off expertly. Then another and another, until almost the entirety of your bra showed. 'Let's see how tough you really are.'

Your eyes blew wide in terror finally realising what his intentions were. Spencer realised a second after, and his blood boiled painfully.

'Garcia,' Spencer managed out, unable to take his eyes off you as Khan sliced off another button and another. By the time he got to the last one, exposing your underwear too, Spencer was on the verge of a panic attack. 'Garcia!'

'I'm honing in on it now!' she called back, but it wasn't enough to quell his fear.

Khan slipped off the dress with a few more slices of the knife, then proceeded to pocket it and press himself against your back. You tried pulling away, but Khan's arms were around you already, feeling you everywhere, violating you.

That's when the tears finally fell. A broken sob escaped your bloodied, trembling lips as Khan's hands dragged all over you, brushing away the hair on your neck to press a sickeningly gentle kiss there.

But instead of completely crumbling, you looked directly into the camera and said, 'I would've said yes.'

For a moment it was just him and you. You words were so soft he almost didn't believe you said them. Spencer saw out of the corner of his eyes Hotch and Rossi didn't understand, but this wasn't about them. You were speaking directly to Spencer, probably with full faith that he was watching and that he was on his way to save you already.

Khan paused his ministrations at the odd statement, giving you a confused look. 'What?'

'I would've said yes,' you repeated, but this time there was a resignation to your words. As if you accepted that those would be the last words anyone would hear you speak. Spencer quickly realised that, as much as you believed he was coming, you didn't believe you would be alive when he finally did.

Khan followed your gaze to the camera, his expression changing as he realised you weren't talking to him.

'I would've said yes,' you said again, not once looking away from the camera.

Khan's hands retracted from you.

'I would've said yes.'

He walked over to the camera.

'I would've said yes.'

'You disappeared behind his huge frame.

'I would've said yes.'

He reached out to switch it off.

'I would've said-'

The feed went dark. The room fell silent, but only for a second. As Spencer stormed out of the room, slamming the door open as he did. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of that room.

I would've said yes.

The way you'd said it was like you were trying to make sure he heard you - that, as your last words to him, you wanted to let him know of what could've been.

He stormed into the break room where thankfully nobody resided in. He slammed his fist on one of the tables, and kicked at the chair residing at it. Anger coursed through every fibre in him, at Khan, at Holt, at himself.

I would've said yes.

'Reid.'

Spencer turned to find Rossi standing in the doorway, concern wrinkling his weathered features more. 'You okay?' he asked, slowly walking into the room fully then closing the door behind him. 'What was that about?'

'She would've said yes,' was all Spencer could manage out in his wild state of mind, finding it hard to breathe he was so wound up. 'She would've...'

'I heard that,' Rossi said gently. 'I don't know what that means. But you clearly do. So spill, boy genius. What did she mean by that?'

Spencer tugged at his hair in frustration. 'Before she left I asked her out,' he explained, voice rising as his worry did. 'She was never able to give me an answer because she was sworn to secrecy, and I thought that all this time she never liked me liked that because we've been friends for so long, but she would've said yes. You heard her! She would've said yes! And now she-'

'Okay, okay, okay,' Rossi interrupted, gently grabbing Spencer by his arms and guiding him to the chair he'd kicked just before. Spencer didn't have the strength to fight the older man, allowing himself to be guided into a seat.

Rossi crouched in front of Spencer, holding Spencer's shaking hands in his steady ones. 'Just breathe, Reid. Just breathe.'

Spencer followed Rossi' instructions as best as he could, but panic and despair had already crept in. 'Do you know,' he started, lips trembling, voice quaking with emotions he couldn't quite understand, 'that friendships that last longer than seven years... that they are meant to last for life? Y/N and I... we've been friends for a decade.'

'I know,' Rossi answered gently. 'You, JJ, Penelope and Y/N are quite close.'

'Yes, but,' Spencer continued through the sniffles, 'Y/N's always been there. Not just for me, but with me. I never realised how integral to my life she was until she left. I never realised that my love for her was something more until it was too late.'

'You love her?'

Only when Rossi pointed it out did Spencer realise what he'd admitted. But it wasn't a casual slip of the tongue - it was intentional, it was true, it was the only thing he wanted to say because he hated how long it took him to realise it for himself.

He nodded slowly, tears running down his cheeks. 'I didn't know it at first, but it didn't just happen overnight. Truth is... I think I've loved her from the day I met her. Platonically at first, but it's grown as we have, and she is so precious to me Rossi. I can't lose her. I can't.'

Sobs wracked his boney body as he broke down. Rossi pulled him into an awkward but comforting hug, and Spencer couldn't express how grateful he was for such comfort. Rossi had grown into the father figure he'd made Gideon out to be; and while Spencer had learnt to stand on his own two feet, it was reassuring knowing he had someone older and wiser to rely upon.

'It's like Maeve all over again,' Spencer found himself saying, still clinging onto Rossi like his life depended on it. 'Just when I glimpse happiness, it's snatched away. And there is nothing I can do about it.'

'No, no,' Rossi said, pulling back to look Spencer directly in his amber eyes. 'You listen to me, boy wonder. We are going to find her, and we're going to bring her home. And you are going to tell her how you feel and finally take her on a date. Is that understood?' When Spencer didn't answer, Rossi continued.

'Remember how when Maeve died, you holed yourself up in your apartment for weeks, and didn't talk to anyone?' Spencer nodded, but only because he didn't quite understand why Rossi was bringing it up. 'And remember how we all came by to visit, but mostly Y/N? That was because she believed you were strong enough to get through it. She never doubted you, never gave up on you, Spence. Are you really going to return the favour by giving up on her?'

Spencer stared at Rossi for a moment, perplexed that he even would suggest such a thing. He quickly wiped his tears away, though. 'No,' he answered, voice stern and hopeful.

'Good,' Rossi replied, standing back up. 'Now use that big brain of yours. There's got to be something that we missed.'

Before Spencer could answer, the door to the break room swung open to reveal a flustered Derek Morgan. 'We found them,' he said between heavy breaths. 'We found the girls.'

87 notes · View notes

corey-beepington · 7 months

Note

Hello! After re-watching your Deltarune short film, Eviction Day, I can confidently say that I:

Am SO happy to find that you have a tumblr blog! :D

Absolutely LOVE that film, despite not being in the Deltarune fandom but still intrigued by the concept/story of Spamton and the Addisons - I genuinely think this is perhaps the BEST interpretation of Spamton's story (and possibly the best Deltarune fan project) I've ever seen!

I'd like to ask a couple of questions regarding the short film if that's okay with you:

What parts of the Addisons' personality did you want to show through your designs (the way they wear their jackets, their eye colour, body type, hairstyle, etc.) and why?

What inspired you to focus on Blue Addison's perspective for the film?

While I understand the references to Spamton Neo with the 'twisted angel' imagery, am I correct in theorising that 'Big Shot' equated to the whole angel thing Spamton became obsessed with (please correct me if this is not the case)?

(Btw I absolutely adore your design of Blue Addison - he's adorable and looks like he'd give the best hugs! And I think he definitely needs a hug after what he witnessed in the short film.)

Thanks for enjoying my silly short film...first time ive ever gotten a big ol string of questions about it sooooo -puts on my reading glasses screen or whatever would be the equivalent for a silly little television-

There we go, i do love talking alot about what goes into a cartoon sooooo

here goes the Ramble

I love the addisons, and I LOVE when people give them individual body types instead of copy/pasting the same skinny twink..I think it adds alot more personality to them..especially since their entire personality is...I guess having no personality. I like to think they have an "advertising" personality which is copy/paste but once theyre off duty, they're themselves. I wanted to show this with one scene in Eviction Day where Blue Advertises when trying to rehearse what to say.

As for each Addison's design itself...Well..I knew the full group of addisons would have very very little screentime, yet I wanted the audience to FEEL for them ya know?

Actually, in the first first first draft of Eviction Day, the diner scene was MUCH longer...but it made Pink WAAAAAY too unlikeable...and I didn't wanna animate all of it.

So I had to make the designs count

In general, I love them with blacked out eyes, it makes them feel more...robotic...even a tad bit frightening...also a fan of their eye's being glowy and think a black scalera would amplify it. I remember seeing blacked out eyes for addisons one day when scrolling instagram..I don't remember the artist sadly, but I latched onto that hc almost instantly.

Their suits are pretty copy-paste with the exception of Pink who doesnt wear an undershirt and lets his fluff sort of hang out...it feels very Pink to me...speaking

Anyway, each design individually

Pink

Pink is..well Pink, very sharp, probably the one who gets the most sales and thus designed to be the most "conventionally attractive" out of the bunch. As mentioned above, I wanted to show how proud he is by him being the only addison who doesn't wear an undershirt and preferring to let his fluff hang out.

He's only in a few shots..but he exists to well...foreshadow...I mentioned in another ask, I don't see Pink as a jerk, more as a guy overcompensating on his hate towards Spamton to cover up deep down missing him and being worried. He worried once Blue shows signs of distress.

Very superficial.

Yellow

My yellow, unlike popular hc, is far more chill, a gentle giant if you would...like he's a guy you can depend on, but very shy despite his looks. He never appears until the end at the Trash Zone so this gives me the "he's shy" hc...or he's also not much a seller. I see Yellow as a guy who sets up his group's store front...and probably beats up viruses with his bare hands, you know the behind the scenes backstage guy.

He's dependable and friendly, and that's why he is how he is.

Orange

He exists.

Like...I'm not super attached to Orange...So he's just...Orange...generic...I see him more as holding a managerial position over the group over selling (he does try to scam you)..but he was never doing anything major in the short so he just...Exists I guess.

BLUE

BOY BABY BOY. HE IS MY FAVORITE.

Blue strikes me as the friendliest and most huggable of the group, in game he doesn't scam you....or even try to...he just gives you free samples...and you can take as many as you want!

I wanna think he's not a great salesmen, but he's built at "marketable plushie" size so he can at very least draw people in...considering your intent to hug him, I think it's working.

For some weird reason, a handful of people have asked in a "is this a fetish" way or even been upset at me for making blue plus sized and to that I say

go outside.

You'll find that people of all shapes exist in the real world <3

Just for you anon, here's some old concept art. I wanna give a big big thanks to my friend SPAMiGO who helped me tie down their designs. I'm not the best character designer, so he was a huge help in making these designs nice!

2. Why Blue?

Awhile ago, I made an animation called "Spamton's Biggest Deal"

Alot of people liked it for some reason.

I wanted to do something like that again...I honestly didn't quite like this cartoon, it was rushed and ew old spamton art...

I didn't want it being my only contribution to the Deltarune fandom...I was feeling...quite ambitious....

So it crawled so Eviction Day could run.

I'm a horror artist by nature, I LOVE horror and I wanted to MAKE another horror deltarune cartoon because it was VERY heavily requested...but i didn't know what

Over the summer in 2022, I ended up cosplaying the Blue Addison..in my research...I found the line about garbage noise...

I think every scary thing that could be done with spamton has been done.

But this

This detail was so overlooked.

There was SO MUCH horror to be had in this scene that I just HAD to do something with it.

And so I wrote the first script in august...I really fell in love with the blue addison around this time and wanted to share my love of this overlooked character with other people.

Also I ship blue addison and spamton really hard and struggled to find Content

(disclaimer because someone will ask: I do not headcanon the addisons as brothers)

So this was another way to spread my gospel...albeit subtly....

Ships do things to a person.

When Undertale's anniverssary came around, I re-posted it to twitter and asked

"why the hell did you guys like this"

I got alot of good answers, i asked what was good, what was bad, what you'd like to see

And then weaved it all together.

I officially began on the short in september of 2022.

but tldr: i liked the character, i liked the horror, 123 addisons making out cyber cafe.

Ah...the mural....

Ok I'll spill the beans, the mural was the very first shot that beamed itself into my head when Eviction Day was barely a thought...just the image of Blue Addison staring at something...horrible...

It was the sole reason I made the film

I plan on doing a more elaborate post on my patreon in the future about it because there was SO MUCH thought that went into this one 5 second shot.

as for your question specifically

There's many ways to interperet the mural tbh...I wanna think Spamton saw himself as a savior...an angel...one who would bring the light and become big..bigger than anything

A God.

or something like that.

That's all the time for now anon. I hope this answered your questions....as I said I will ramble on and on about pre-production stuff, sometimes ill throw stuff up on the patreon as well (the animatic is there now actually) if you wanna support more stuff like it too!

Now go take a rest...your eyes must be so sleepy reading all this

#corey speaks

35 notes · View notes

j0kers-light · 1 year

Text

His Lighthouse: Love In The Club (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Love In The Club

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Girl's night has finally arrived bringing more issues and drama for both Joker and Y/n to face. More separation will put their growing relationship to the test or will an unknown variable bring them even closer?

author’s note:

Hey hi! Thank you for patiently waiting as I crafted this looong chapter! It's over 15K!! I thought about cutting it in half but again, where's the fun in that? Sit back with a snack and a drink and enjoy the ride!

PLEASE READ: I recommend listening to "Love In The Club" by Jvck James both his original version and the Apple Music Home Session release to really immerse yourself in the inspiration for this chapter. You won't regret it!

Taglist!

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angell @kaidennnnn @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @nanalover00

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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Joker was on the move the second you entered the florist center.

He considered the grocery trip over and hauled the cart full of goods towards the checkout area. He tossed some junk food into the cart along the way knowing you would scold him out for it later but honestly, he didn't care. Late night munchies hit him hard and at the most random of times. If he didn't have pop tarts or something equivalent, well.. you didn't want him blowing up buildings to fight off a sugar craving now did you?

It was either sweets or citywide destruction. The box was $4.98.

He did find it odd that an organic and healthy food store like EverFresh sold fattening products. He'd contemplate that contradiction later.

He approached a cashier dreading this portion of the trip. Even though he flirted with various customers and employees in the store, actually talking to one person for an extended period of time would be more than what he signed up for.

Joker just wanted to stay by your side but you denied him that simple request. He was not going to patiently wait around while you talked to your friend. He had better things to do like worry about tonight's festivities.

Like hell he was letting you leave Gotham's city limits without some form of security. You didn't understand just how serious Dent's bounty on your head was. Hiding at Wayne's Manor for eighteen days did absolutely nothing but get on Joker's nerves.

When you had beef with a crime boss, it was for life. You would never be safe until Dent was removed from the picture because Joker refused for you to be killed by the former district attorney.

Your safety remained a top priority to Joker even though you considered the situation officially handled. He didn't expect you to know any better (especially since you were a civilian) so he made it his responsibility to look after you.

It was kinda like his way of paying you back for barging into your life and for letting him use your penthouse as a hiding place. You were already risking so much for him. He wouldn't know what he'd do if you died on his watch.

Joker slammed the cartons of milk on the conveyor belt too roughly just thinking about it.

The cashier jumped but still smiled sheepishly at him. She took her sweet time enjoying the view, i.e Joker, although he hardly noticed. Bright and cheery blondes weren't his type. You ruined him for any future women.

"Find everything okay?" The repetitive beeping noise was amplified when Joker didn't reply.

He watched as each item appeared on the display screen and calculated up the total in his head. His mask covered his lips from view as he mouthed each brand name as a stress reliever. The cashier eyed her coworker who was bagging the groceries. Antisocial, but he was still hot.

"Would you like to opt in for our same-day home delivery? It's ideal for members that live further– Excuse me? Sir?" She got Joker's attention by shaking a bag of granola before scanning it.

His glare pinned her to the spot. She never saw eyes so complex. A chill went up her spine at the vibrant pine staring straight into her soul.

She spooked when she heard his voice, "That sounds.. lovely."

It was low and raspy yet she could hear the power it held. Authoritative and captivating; she was instantly weak in the knees.

"O-oh-okay um wow. I-I, um do you have your member's card?"

Joker twirled your white EverFresh card in between his fingers and quirked an eyebrow.

He had to sell the mysterious musician or whatever you said he looked like. It didn't make a difference to him. As long as he wasn't discovered. Joker could tell this bimbo of a cashier was buying into his disguise. The bagger too. All because he looked like their dream man he was able to avoid detection. Pathetic.

"I need to scan it sir. Can you–" She reached out to take the card from Joker but he kept it out of her grasp all because he wanted to toy with her. He hummed when she blushed and eventually snatched the card from him.

Sexual frustration was oozing off of her. Easy prey. Joker thought.

Her eyes widened when she read the profile assigned to it. "Oh! This is Y/n L/n's card. What's your relation to her?"

"She's my.." Joker stopped himself. What is Y/n to me? He pondered. An asset? Lover? A means to an end?

Joker wasn't one to put labels on things but he felt you were worthy of one. "She's my roommate." He replied. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

The cashier made an unsure noise and typed something on her register keyboard.

"I'm sorry but Miss L/n is the sole user. I can't use this card without her verbal authorization when she's not present."

This woman was gonna be a pain in the rear it seems.

Joker sighed and out of the corner of his eye he spotted the bagger walk off, hopefully not to bring unwanted attention to the scene. A noisy manager was the last thing Joker needed. He couldn't blow his cover but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve to get his way.

He curled his fingers for the poor cashier to come closer. As much as she knew it was a bad idea, she did, and Joker quickly leaned over to whisper in her ear.

Good thing you were distracted with your friend. Joker didn't know if you would've been intrigued or jealous. In two seconds flat the cashier was giggling uncontrollably and bypassing the block on the card.

"I'm so sorry! Haha! Don't worry about the home delivery, it's free on this transaction but keep that between us. Blythe!" She signaled to her coworker who was returning with more recyclable bags.

"Contact delivery and let them know they have an expedited service to complete." She winked at Joker and tapped her screen again.

"Alrighty then, your total is... $382.41. Cash or card?"

Joker grinned behind his mask. "Cash."

Joker stepped out of EverFresh vowing to never return. The healthy conscious cult-like store sucked the last of his patience dry and he had half a mind to level the establishment to the ground with explosives.

Today he learned that organic toilet paper existed. It was a fact he could have gone without. He really needed a cigarette or something to get his mind off of committing acts of violence. He patted his pockets but remembered that he wasn't wearing his suit with its infinite pockets and secret stashes.

Joker rolled his eyes to the sky and let a string of curses fly from his mouth. A lady walking by covered her son's ears and scoffed. He held back the urge to flip her off. Or worse, stalk her back to her place and kill her and the rest of her family in their sleep. It was a good idea the longer he thought about it...

No! What would Y/n think? It's not worth it.

He didn't want you thinking so poorly of him. He couldn't return to your side with their blood smeared on his hands and expect your love. He didn't want to scare you away; this dark side of him always scared people and yet his mind continued down a dark spiral.

Monster. Freak. She'll never love you. Why should she? It spat into his eardrums and he almost believed it.

It wasn't healthy to listen, however he was powerless to stop the voices once they began. He needed a distraction. Then he remembered one. He had to protect you somehow tonight. Your safety was important. You were important. No matter how loud the voices were, he could never forget you.

You didn't see him as The Joker but as a normal human being. No matter how broken and twisted he was, you still looked at him with those adoring eyes of yours. You always gave him your undivided attention. Your patience and kindness were everything to him. You gave Joker a sense of meaning. A sense of peace. He gave you nothing but pain.

Regardless of that fact, you let Joker in. Not just into your life, oh no. Joker knew he had a place in your heart as well. He didn't deserve to but he was a greedy man. He'd fight tooth and nail to get what he wanted.

And he wanted everything you could give and even then, it still wouldn't be enough.

Joker exhaled from his nose and finally calmed down. What would he do without you? He couldn't thank you enough for being the buffer between him and his more.. violent self.

You knew who Joker was and what he represented and he wanted to maintain that façade you created of him. You saw Joker as a roommate. Not a monster. So he would play the part. But behind your back? He was evil personified.

Joker moved off to the side and pulled out his burner phone. He dialed the only number programmed on it and waited. It rang exactly four times before someone answered. They knew not to speak until Joker said something.

"Did you pick up the dry cleaning?" It was an average conversation to the untrained ear but the person on the other end knew the code.

"I forgot, but I can." They replied before hanging up.

Joker placed his phone back into his pocket and made his way to the meeting spot. It wasn't far of a walk but he didn't want to rush and bring unwanted attention to himself. He had to keep in mind he was still on the run from the authorities and Batman.

He kept things low key as he walked towards the back alley of a laundromat business twenty minutes after the call.

Joker walked in and acknowledged the workers on duty washing, folding, and steaming linens. The place reeked of bleach and other cleaning chemicals. The temperature was stifling but Joker chose to ignore it and walked to an unmarked door and knocked thrice. It opened and Frost stepped to the side for his boss to enter. Since it was a last minute meeting, only need-to-know personnel was there which consisted of the top three.

Mac's blond hair was tipped back and hanging over his chair but he sat up when the main man walked in. "Nice fit, Boss!"

Neo was texting on his phone but took the time to smack Mac upside the head. The latter flipped him off until Frost's hands slammed on the cheap folding table in the center of the room. "Knock it off." He warned.

Joker rolled his eyes at their antics.

He made himself comfy at the head of the table and then proceeded to rip his mask off. All three men were shocked to see him sans makeup. It was rare that Joker went around without his signature makeup and out of everyone in his organization, only the three men present had the pleasure of seeing his bare face.

Frost was the veteran of the group and he still shifted in his seat at the sight. "So what's on the table? Is Two Face acting up again?"

Grumbles and expletives erupted from the table. Everyone had a bone to pick with the binary burn victim. Joker smacked his lips and waved off their concern.

"Now that? ThaT.. would be easy to handle but no. I need a lit-le favor. It's Y/n again. Ya see—"

Mac sighed, earning Joker's curiosity, although he didn't miss a beat filling them in on your plans tonight. The other two goons nodded along and even shared some good insight but Mac wasn't having it.

"Great, so now we're beefing up our security because little Miss writer wants to party? I call bulls__t."

Only the sound of laundering done in the next room could be heard after his outcry.

Frost shook his head. Neo's hazel eyes darted back and forth between Joker and Mac before he focused back on his phone.

He didn't want to see this. It was finna get ugly real quick. That would've been the case before when Joker didn't have any patience. Now he just patiently waited and that was even more terrifying.

"I didn't know you had issues with Y/n. Care to tell me the source of that, uhh, frustration?"

Mac was the most opinionated of the top three but the pretty boy knew when to keep his mouth shut. The bad blood between you and him must've really bothered him to speak up about it.

It was becoming a big inconvenience that Joker wasn't wearing his normal suit. His ripped jeans and long sleeve shirt couldn't conceal all the knives and other goodies he used to carry around to intimidate people with. That's not to say he couldn't harm a person without a weapon. Joker's glare alone had Mac squirming in his seat.

And he quickly backtracked to save his skin. "N-No it's nuthing like that I promise, Boss. She and I exchanged some words back at her publisher's office that I feel she ain't redeemed herself from."

Neo tossed his phone on the table and rounded on the blonde with an attitude. "Come off it my guy. I pointed a gun at her and we still on speaking terms!"

"You did whaT?" Joker growled. Neo paled, realizing he let that slip out.

Frost face palmed. They were asking for Joker's wrath at this point. Out of these three you had more cause to dislike him the most. But did you see him complaining about it?

Frost decided to bring order back to this meeting. "So.. is this club here in Gotham? We'll assign some goons around the place. No biggie."

Green eyes flickered away from Mac and Neo to his right hand man. Deep breathes. No need to blow a fuse. Maybe he wasn't explaining the situation properly because they weren't seeing the issue here.

"No. It's out of state." Joker saw when the lightbulbs clicked on. Finally everyone was on the same page.

"I want this kept between us. Under-stand? Yes?" He looked around the table for any naysayers.

Light brown eyes hesitated and Joker zeroed in on it. "Will thaT be a problem, Neo?"

He sighed. "No Boss. I had plans but I can work around 'em."

Frost raised an eyebrow to tease his fellow coworker. "I'd cancel them if I were you"

Neo seethed. "It won't be a problem."

"Great!" Joker clapped his hands once. All eyes were back on him. "Now that's settled. Frost, I trust you with the finer details. The rest.. I'll leave to the two of you. I don't want anyy mistakes." Joker looked down at an imaginary watch. "Well. Gotta run!"

His jester smile was more unnerving without his red paint on. They all watched Joker place his mask back over his face and stand. If they didn't know beforehand, their Boss looked like an average citizen. It was his best disguise to date.

Each of them waited until he left the room to finally relax. Mac breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was off the hook for now. Frost and Neo shared a look and took pity on their fellow henchman. Were it so easy.

Joker wouldn't forget any grievances against Y/n. You were a touchy subject best left alone. The blond would have to tread carefully for the next few weeks to get back on Joker's good side. Not like there is one to begin with.

Nevertheless, it would be a long night and it was almost two pm.

The subway ride back to your place was excruciatingly boring. It was completely uneventful if you ignored the fact just about every male catcalled or eye raped you on the way there.

You were instantly self conscious of your dressy outfit and blamed Joker for giving you the initial confidence to walk to the grocery store with Louboutin heels and a halter top in broad daylight. Make no mistake you felt amazing when Joker shadowed you. Now that he was gone, you questioned your tight jeans and exposed shoulders.

You ducked behind corners, stuck with the crowd, and kept your head down all the way to your place. The tall white building welcomed you back with open arms.

Your heels clicked loudly on the lobby's marble floors and you jumped when the front desk employee called your name.

"Just a second Miss L/n! There's a delivery from EverFresh here for you." Henry said.

You glanced at the person standing near the front. It was a male wearing a white polo with an EverFresh logo printed on its collar. He waved at you expectantly.

"Is it alright to bring your groceries up?"

How did he beat you here? Then you remembered they had a van whereas you were stuck to public transit and then forced to endure even more walking. You almost agreed but then stopped yourself. You didn't know if Joker was back or not.

"Yes well.. actually. I need to check and make sure my cat isn't out. He's not too friendly with strangers."

Using that little white lie again? Classy, real classy, Y/n. You shushed your subconscious.

They both watched as you power walked to the elevator. With a mash of a button, the shiny doors opened with a soft ding. You stepped inside and stared at your reflection in the mirrored walls as they boxed you in.

You looked stunning yet you felt the exact opposite. Your mental state hadn't fully recovered from the last twenty four hours. The physical reminders were hidden under concealer and tight smiles but the memories remained. Tonight would prove to be a much needed reset for you. Eight o'clock couldn't get here fast enough.

The trip to the twelfth floor was done in silence and you stepped onto your private floor, rehearsing your lines. You were gonna read Joker to filth for charging your card to high heaven. But as you unlocked the door, the foyer was vacant.

You prowled the open space searching for your green haired roommate. He wasn't in the massive living room nor in the dining space that flowed into the kitchen. A peek inside your spare room and the main bath turned up empty. You checked the storage room, laundry, and your empty fourth bedroom that Joker didn't know about before stopping in front of his guest room.

The door was closed but that didn't stop you from barging in with an insult hot on your tongue. However it died on your lips when no Joker was found.

He wasn't here. Your heart skipped a beat.

You blinked back your tears and spoke aloud to calm your nerves. "No need to get all bent out of shape Y/n. Joker is a big boy, he can handle his own. A heads up would have been nice.. but worry about your missing roommate later. Call the front desk. Focus on getting ready for tonight. Joker can wait."

You nodded to yourself and closed his door, mentally and physically pushing him into a corner of your mind, before pulling your cell out.

You scrolled until you found the front desk logo and hit the dial button. It rang a bit until Henry's voice answered the phone. "NGR front desk, how can I assist you today?"

You smiled at his kind voice. "Um yes hi. This is Y/n, you can send the delivery up. Thank you."

He hung up to authorize access.

You tidied up the kitchen a bit knowing the groceries would be brought directly in here. You and Joker cleaned the dishes before leaving but it was a nervous habit to clean. You couldn't stand a dirty environment.

Your nervous tick spread from the kitchen to the living room as you straightened up the couch pillows, groaning at the layer of dust on your furniture, and you considered hiring housekeeping downstairs to clean your place back up to your standards.

The two weeks and four days hiding at Wayne Manor did quite a number on your place. You could start cleaning now but Florence would literally murder you if you called and cancelled tonight's plans. And there was no way you could cook lunch, wash and style your hair, find an outfit, get dressed, and clean up before eight.

The clock in the kitchen ticked closer and closer to the top of the hour. Hopefully the girls would overlook the one time your home wasn't picture perfect.

You did however pick up Joker's ridiculous panda suit and shove it in the back of the coat closet in the hall. And just in time. The doorbell rang and its posh tone sent a shiver down your spine. You hated your doorbell. Your closest friends knew to knock.

You opened the sleek black door to the charming fellow you saw downstairs. He waved again and you swept your arm, gesturing for him to come in. He pushed a delivery dolly inside loaded with white crates that held your groceries.

He must've noticed your look of confusion. "Hi. This is just the first load. I couldn't carry everything up by myself."

"Oh no worries. If you set that down in the kitchen I can start unloading while you go back down and grab the next trip."

"That'll be great! Good idea." He parked the dolly and heaved the crates onto your counter. Then he scanned the barcode on the side with his powerpad before stepping out to retrieve the next load.

You rolled your eyes at the advanced delivery system EverFresh had. You dreaded the survey they would send to your email to rate your experience with us so we can improve! Times like this you wonder why you didn't shop at a regular store.

'I'm supporting Morgana and I like their selection of meat. Hang in there, Y/n'.

The logo painted crates opened up to recyclable boxes lined with dry ice. You took care not to touch them as you took out the dairy, meats, and vegetables to stock up your barren fridge. The front door opened again and the delivery guy wheeled in another load of groceries and also sat down a handheld tote on the island counter containing fragile goods.

"That's everything. Do you mind signing off?" He looked up from his pad at your backside sticking out the fridge. "D__n.."

You poked your head out of the veggies drawer to blink at him. "Did you say something?"

You didn't hear him. It would've been awkward if you did. His nervous laugh made you eye him warily "Ah nothing Miss. Can you sign off on the shipment?"

You fixed your face and signed your name electronically before walking him to the door. He hesitated but spun around, preparing to ask you out when you cut him off. "Have a great day!"

The door closed right in his stunned face. You didn't need that in your life. Joker was M.I.A and you were getting worried.

"Okay... lunch. What to make for lunch?" You said to distract yourself. It made no sense how you always drew a blank on what to cook after spending so much on groceries. And since Joker was the one that checked out, you wouldn't know the total until you got the monthly statement.

Just thinking about the delivery fee made you want to choke him. "Tsk. He probably thinks it's funny."

You put the last of the groceries in their rightful place and decided on making chicken salad sandwiches once you spotted the artisan bread Joker picked out. That way no matter what time he returned, nothing would go to waste. The leftovers could keep in the fridge.

You made another cheeseboard to go along with the girl's portion of sandwiches, knowing Barbara's motherly instincts would ensure that everyone was hydrated and fed before hitting the streets. It doubled as lunch and dinner since you didn't feel like making anything heavy. Plus if Joker didn't bother to show up why bother cooking for him?

You chopped the green apple a little too aggressively and the dill was practically microscopic in your anger.

It was funny how he scolded you for running away but he could disappear at a moment's notice and it was totally fine. And heaven forbid if you brought it up then you'd be instigating things! You stopped chopping and rested your palms on the counter. The apartment was too quiet and that only made your current mood worse.

The dull sound of chopping echoed in the kitchen as you prepared lunch. Alone.

It was nearing two in the afternoon when you finished up the sandwiches.

They were placed on your favorite glass serving trays and placed in the fridge right next to the cheeseboard for the ladies. Florence thought you were such a housewife for calling it by its actual name, charcuterie board, but she secretly loved them. You always picked the best cheeses and fruits and you designed them around your friend's favorites and what was in season.

You were washing your hands when a loud thud hit your front door. It made you turn off the faucet and back away until you heard keys in deadbolt turning.

It was too early for Florence and Barb to be here and the front desk would've called beforehand rather than just barge in.

You grabbed the chef knife from its holder and braced yourself for anything. Joker did a great job making you forget for the time being that Two Face's men kidnapped you from your home. You couldn't lower your guard not for a second.

Much to your relief it was Joker who walked in like he owned the place. He said nothing, just barreled straight towards your balcony like a man on a mission.

You didn't know whether to be glad he was back or insulted by the cold shoulder. Then you remembered, he left you at the store and racked up a hefty fine with the delivery cost. That alone made you stomp barefoot out onto your private balcony.

Cindy always wondered why you chose the top floor of such an average apartment building. When she came over and saw your massive balcony she understood why.

The large space was divided in half; one portion was protected by the building's glass roof almost like a sunroom but much bigger. It was easily mistaken as an extension of your living room since you kept the sliding door open most of the time. Your houseplants dwelled here amongst a reading hammock, wicker couches, and ottomans.

The actual 'balcony' was beyond another set of glass sliding doors and was completely open air. A custom dining table similar to the one indoors sat atop a platform and a built in grilling area sat nearby itching to be fired up. It wasn't hot enough for it yet. A string of lights made this part of the balcony cozy and intimate on dark nights and when needed, you and guests could retreat to the enclosed space. It was quite handy for Gotham's notorious rainy days.

But getting back to the matter at hand. You made sure to rattle the door on its track so Joker could hear you coming. If he did hear it, he didn't bother turning around. He remained hunched over the stone railing looking down at the view.

"You forgot something at the store, not like you care about how I made it back but still. Joker? Hello..? I'm talking to you."

You reached the railing and turned him around by his shoulder. Your argument fizzled away once you saw a plume of smoke leave Joker's mouth. You were in awe. He took another drag and respectfully blew it over the edge. The wind carried it away before you could comment about the smell.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He mumbled after an extended period of silence.

"N-No, I just.. I didn't know you smoked. I mean. I never smelled it on you."

The tip of the cigarette glowed a fiery red in light of your discovery. You were still fascinated by the sight.

Growing up smoking was a nasty habit your mother imprinted in your brain. You tried it once with your poetry club just to know what it was like. One hit, a few coughs, and more laughs from your friends and you were banned from rotation. They never let you take a hit again. Whenever Florence lit up she never did it in your presence although she would accidentally leave her grinder lying around for you to find.

But seeing Joker breathing in nicotine as if it were second nature was hypnotic. Paired with his bad boy attire, he looked every bit the guy you didn't bring home to mom.

He smirked and let the smoke escape his nostrils like the dragon he was. "Hmm. Then whaT do I smell like, doll?"

He let his plume of smoke curl around your head. You weren't standing close enough to get second hand smoking, but it burned your nose a bit. It had a unique smell actually. Nothing like the cheap smokes that clogged your senses and made you gag, no. Joker's was more robust. Along with actually smelling good, it triggered a key sensory response.

You were so dumb.

"You smell like gunpowder, lighter fluid, and something metallic with a hint of peppermint. Wait, that's what it is!" You pointed at his cigarette. "I mistook it for peppermint but it's more akin to cinnamon or that of a cozy fire during the winter. Spicy and heady. I.. like it. It suits you."

Joker froze like a statue. That's what he smelled like to you? He never thought about it honestly.

He worked with knives and blood and his greasepaint at times had a strong smell to it but the way you described him, all comforting and alluring, had Joker's chest tightening up. You made it worse by walking up to him and running your hands from his chest up to his broad shoulders.

He felt you loop your arms around his neck and he held his cigarette away thinking you were planning on kissing him.

"I was supposed to be mad at you for charging my debit card but I can't stay mad at you for long." You sighed to yourself and gazed up at him affectionately.

Joker found himself becoming bashful. Which was a first.

"It wasn't that much Bunny.." Joker mumbled in his defense. Your e/c glare said otherwise.

"They charge by mileage. It might not seem far but to my building, delivery averages out to about a hundred dollars? And with how quickly they got here you probably selected the expedited service. On top of the groceries itself that's what? Five hundred dollars you swiped?"

Joker sighed and flicked his cigarette bud over the balcony. He wasted no time wrapping his arms around you. His scars caught your eye when his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"Don't. Worry. Your. Pretty. Little. Head." He exaggerated each word with a tap on your nose. You blinked wildly and frowned up.

"Joker.."

He bent down to steal a kiss. You expected it to be bitter from his cigarette but an explosion of spice hit your tongue instead. He was changing your perspective of smokers big time.

You wondered if it was exclusively a Joker thing. You weren't gonna go around kissing smokers either to collect appropriate data. Joker would have a fit.

"Stooop worrying. You got your groceries. It's... in the past. Shouldn't you be uh, getting ready?"

And just like that the moment you shared was broken.

You squeaked and gripped your hair. "You're right! I have to start getting ready!" You tried to escape Joker's hold but he wouldn't let go.

In fact, he pulled you closer. "Can I help?" He mumbled on the side of your neck.

You glared at him sourly. He was the reason why you had to uninstall your loc braids in the first place. Yet his kisses felt remorseful so you began to cave.

"Or watch..." He suggested with a flick of his tongue on the shell of your ear. "I'm ~perfectly~ fine with just watchin.'

No one could see you up here but the flush of your skin must've been profound. Joker knew exactly how to rile you up.

"Fine." You pushed against his chest. "Meet me in the bathroom. I'll go grab my stuff."

You spun to go but he dragged you back by your wrist. It felt like a dance; it happened so fluidly.

"Ya know Y/n. It would be easier if you just let meee in your room. So you don't have to, uh, keep hauling things back and forth."

Joker knew he said the wrong thing when you tensed up in his arms. He could really use an undo button right about now because your eyes looked sharper than the knives he owned.

"Good point. I don't need your help. I'll get ready in my room instead." You noted.

You managed to escape his hold and was halfway to the sunroom door when Joker grabbed you again. He hated when you got like this. All defensive and distant. He really had to choose his words carefully around you.

"Let go Joker." You mumbled as he held your back to his chest.

He didn't. "Whyyy? So you can hide in your room till time to go? If I'm not allowed to go with you, at least lemme see my Princess get all dolled up."

He used his new nickname for you and it had the same effect as before.

Now there were some names that Joker made up that you absolutely hated, but something about him calling you Princess, or his all time favorite, Bunny, that sent heat straight to your core. He saw you shift your weight from foot to foot.

"Fine. You can w-watch but I swear if you distract me I'll leave!" You sent him a warning glare over your shoulder.

"Mmmm yes ma'am. LooK but don'T touch." Joker thought it would be an easy task until a few minutes later, he realized just how hard this would be.

He sat on the wooden bench in the main bathroom ready for a show and boy did you deliver.

You came in wearing a bikini the same color as your skin complexion. The illusion of being nude was spot on and Joker had to have his hands on you.

You were busy de-tangling your hair but saw his dark figure approaching you from behind through the mirror. His hands grazed your waist before you slapped them away. "No!"

"Yes."

You brandished your comb like a sword and spun around to face him. "You promised! The plan was to look but no touching!"

Joker sucked air through his teeth and made a show of checking you out. "Yeahhhh, but. Do I look like a guy with a plan?"

You weren't buying it. "Sit. Down."

He grinned and returned to his seat at the entrance to the shower. Here he could watch you while avoiding the spray of water. Not like he cared about getting wet; he actually planned on seeing you dripping wet and crying out his name.

You didn't know that would be happening soon. He liked having the element of surprise. What could he say? Ever since Joker got a taste of you he was hooked. He focused back on the present when you walked past him to hop in the shower.

You locked eyes with him for a brief second. A, don't you dare, warning was evident in your e/c orbs but he wasn't phased by it.

You thought you could order Joker around but he was uncontrollable. Many before you have tried. He wished you good luck. It put a smile on his face to know you'll fail just like the rest.

The water absorbing into your bikini and slicking your hair down your back also put a smile on his face. Joker got to see your natural curls appear in real time. Each one was a perfect coil that he wanted to wrap around his finger. With a pout he remembered he was stuck with watching the game from the sidelines. For now.

Once your hair was wet enough you squeezed almost half of the bottle into your hands and worked the shampoo into your curls. You were so lost in your own world you seemed to forget you had an audience when you started to hum.

Joker was mesmerized as your body swayed to a tune of your own creation. Suds fell from the crown of your hair down to your shoulders after the second round of shampoo. He could watch this all day.

That distinctive scent of yours wafted in the air and Joker almost groaned aloud.

Your hair products would be his undoing. Rosemary, lavender, peppermint, and that elusive fruit he still couldn't quite name, invaded his mind. If you smelling this good had this effect on him then he could only imagine how he affected you with his own.

You drugged his senses and the scent was amplified by the hot water you used.

Sitting by the shower door was torture. The smell hit him dead on as it escaped into the bathroom behind him.

He didn't realize just how much time had passed as you stood underneath the spray of water to rinse your hair. Once the water at your feet ran clear you turned the shower off and applied your conditioner. You were thinking of styling your hair into a natural updo so a plastic shower cap was secured over your head to seal in the moisture like a deep conditioner.

You were about to step out of the shower when Joker decided to make his move. He stood to his full height and blocked the entrance. You actually forgot he was there.

"Geez you scared me. Did you enjoy the show?" You chuckled with a roll of your eyes.

You didn't expect Joker to wordlessly nod his head. His eyes were hooded and never left yours, causing you to look away. "Great. Um.. can you move out the way?" You asked.

He didn't want to. He wanted to advance forward until your back hit the subway tiles and you gasped at him in disbelief. He wanted to rip that stupid plastic off your head— bury his hands in your curly mane and kiss you until you forgot how to breathe. Joker wanted to pick you up, wrap your legs around his waist and make you so late that you couldn't go out with your friends tonight.

Then you would be stuck here with him, tangled in the sheets, begging for him to stop. He wouldn't though. Not until this primal urge, this unknown hunger for you was stated.

But that would be selfish. Joker knew how much tonight meant to you. And since you asked him so nicely, practically begged to go with those teary eyes of yours, it would be cruel of him to foil your plans.

That didn't mean he couldn't get a teeny tiny taste before you left. It would be a long night for him while you were gone. Why not give him something to occupy his mind with until you came back? You had mere seconds before the big bad wolf descended on you.

"Just a little taste, Bunny."

Joker was 'nice' enough to wash your conditioner and comb your freshly washed strands out.

You were going for bouncy effortless curls tamed into a messy, but still stylish updo to offset your dress.

It was the perfect LBD to wear to the club tonight. Not too short that it looked trashy but sparkly enough for the occasion. Florence didn't assign an official dress code so you were following the hot girl summer idea you told Morgana about.

However there was no need for you to dress up when the real party was standing behind you. You were too busy stewing in your seat, mourning the time Joker wasted indulging in his own party. You pleaded for him not to leave any more hickeys before you lost the ability to string coherent sentences together.

Technically he listened. They just weren't on your neck or arms.

Joker ripped your poor bikini to shreds before diving straight into his meal. You swore your eyes rolled to the ceiling and stayed there for the full hour. He stopped to give you breaks and to feed your praise kink before grinning wildly at your dazed expression struggling to stay awake.

Joker was truly a sadist yet in the same breath his aftercare was superb. He helped you wash up in the shower and carried you out when your legs were reduced to jello.

His hands mapped out every inch of your skin while applying lotion and his eyes dared you to move a muscle or stop him. The 'look but don't touch' rule was long forgotten mkay?

All of Joker's sweet gestures were for naught when he dropped you in a chair and ordered you to stay still. He applied the right products you asked him to use and carefully rolled your hair before dragging you to the kitchen. There he ordered you to eat and rehydrate– "Because you lost a lot of fluids, Bunny."

"That you stole." You thought you kicked his leg, unfortunately it was just the island barstool.

That earned you a belly laugh from Joker. You liked the sound of it even if your foot was screaming in pain. It was worth it. Time seemed to fly as you talked about this and that, just enjoying Joker's company as the two of you ate.

His deep hums and short nods were comforting as you discussed something serious and he proved that not only was he listening, but he was retaining the information by firing questions right back at you or repeating something to clarify.

It felt.. nice. Joker soaked up this domestic bliss. He couldn't help but reach over and brush your bottom lip with his thumb.

"You'd look realllly pretty with my red lipstick on baby doll."

You choked on your water. New nickname: unlocked. When you composed yourself and glanced up, Joker was still eyeing your lips. "Y-you want me to wear your lipstick tonight?"

"Yeah. I wanna see it. See you." He left out the part where it was him inadvertently staking his claim on you.

He knew you agreed the moment your eyes dilated.

A jingle chirped from your phone interrupting the moment. You glanced down at the device and paled. "Oh my gosh! It's almost six?!" You pushed your chair back and grabbed the dishes that you and Joker made.

Another chime rang but you were already at the sink, preparing to wash.

"Can you read that new message to me, Joker?" He raised an eyebrow but did as you asked. He leaned over and squinted.

"Mm, poor Cindy can't make it tonight." He sang.

The message came from the girl's group chat and with the girl boss active, everyone else chimed in. He watched your friend Florence send a string of sad emojis followed by Morgana also expressing her disappointment. Then a text came through that he knew you wouldn't like.

He glanced over at the clock and winced. "Uh... Y/n?"

You hummed a yes with your back still turned. It was now or never to tell you.

"Uhhhhh they're coming early. As in. Seven instead of eight earlyyyy."

Joker saw how the information straightened your spine. He eyed your robe and then your hair still in its rollers and knew you would panic. It was an instant reaction. One minute you were washing dishes the next? You were acting like a chicken with its head cut off.

Joker didn't feel awful for grabbing hold of you and shaking you silly. "Go finish getting dressed. I'll handle.. whatever."

You didn't question what his version of whatever was you just ran to your room to get ready.

Joker rolled his eyes hearing the door slam but made his way to the bathroom. If the Commissioner's daughter was on her way, any and all evidence of him being here needed to be erased.

He planned on watching you finish getting all dolled up but the new meeting time put a wrench in those plans. Maybe he could catch a glimpse when you came home.

The first knock came a little after 7pm. Joker had already locked himself in his room for the night. Hopefully none of the girls questioned why that room was off limits.

You were dressed in your mini dress and fastening some drop earrings on when you went to open the door. Morgana was waiting on the other side holding a bouquet of spring flowers.

"Ahh! You remembered. Thank you!" You took the flowers from her but did a double take at her outfit of choice once they were out of the way.

"Is it too much?" She whined. You were speechless. "No. No.."

Her long hair was slicked back with hair gel, giving it a wet look that did wonders for her stunning dress. It was silver and with its drastic plunging neckline, your gaze was drawn to her breasts. She brought more attention to them with a long necklace that was actually a body chain.

"You look..." You trailed off.

She laughed and walked into your apartment with flair. "Sickening!" Her matching heels clicking on the floor confirmed it. Then you saw the back of her dress. Sickening indeed.

"The flowers are gorgeous by the way!" You closed the door softly.

The two of you were talking and munching on fruit from the cheeseboard when the second knock of the night sounded.

"Be right back." Morgana waved you off, too busy checking her phone to care.

You opened the door and Barbara's fiery locks were the first thing you saw. "Okay. I'm feeling super underdressed here." You groaned.

Barbara chuckled and wheeled herself in. "That sounds like a personal problem my friend. We are going clubbing right?"

Wrong answer. Barbara was dressed for the runway. Even seated, you fell in love with her short sequined dress that screamed glamor biker vibes.

When she moved you saw the cut outs traveling down her front. And her shoes!! Black leather thigh highs that glistened in the lights. Various silver rings adorned her fingers and she even added silver embellishments into her high frizzy ponytail. Her natural red mane was the only color to her outfit.

"She is her. Not a crumb left!" She ate up your hype and joined Morgana in the living room.

"So where's the girl of the hour?" She snagged a sandwich and a glass of water that you offered her.

Morgana's focus was on her phone. "Stuck in traffic but almost here. I love how we all coordinated our outfits without consulting with one another!"

The three of you glanced around and sure enough, each of you wore sequins of black and silver.

A round of laughter was shared before Barbara spoke. "Oh wow, I wonder what Florence is wearing then."

"If she's matching we gotta take pictures!" Morgana added.

During their little chit chat, you snuck over to your floor length mirror in the room to add the final touches to your outfit. Joker didn't get to see you before he locked himself in his room and you kinda wanted his opinion on your attire.

Although you matched with the girls you were starting to feel self conscious in your plain dress and heels. Your hair was flawless and came out exactly how you wanted it but something was missing.

While Morgana and Barbara weren't looking you went and grabbed Joker's red lipstick from the bathroom. You held it firmly but for some unknown reason, your hand shook as it hovered near your lips.

Maybe because it was sentimental? It was Joker's. It was his color, his tool to taunt and terrify the city with. Sure it was just an innocent shade found in any beauty store, but the power it held was insurmountable.

You didn't know if it would compliment your skin tone but there was no time to grab another color. The hour was getting closer and closer to eight. You closed your eyes and swiped the hue over your lips.

It was soft to the touch and when you opened your eyes, the opacity was extraordinary. It was perfect. Crazy how a shade of lipstick made you feel powerful. You smirked at your reflection and strutted to the front door to answer Florence's urgent knocking.

The second it unlocked she too sauntered in, a thousand apologies spewing from her dark painted lips.

"Alright b___hes! Sorry I'm late, my Uber driver tried to hoe me. But I have arrived." She raised her arms like an Egyptian and spun in her silver strappy heels.

Everyone's eyes started there and followed the straps up her legs before taking in the scandalous sight that was Florence.

"D__n girl. Is this Euphoria place secretly a strip club?" Morgana whistled. Barbara nodded along thinking the same.

You on the other hand threw your hands up, huffing. "That's it, I'm done. I'm not going. Why bother when Florence shows up wearing nothing! Do you even have on underwear?"

Florence stopped spinning and struck a pose. 'Um yes?" She pointed to her crystal thong. "I am not getting arrested for public indecency."

"Again." Morgana mentioned. Everyone burst out laughing as Flo made her way to the living room.

"Yeah yeah. Real funny. That was one time and I looked phenomenal. Oooh food!" She picked up a sandwich, thanking you in passing for preparing it.

After a bite or two she took a gander at her squad. "Not all of us matching!" Her feathery sleeves danced in the air as she snapped her fingers. "Question. Is your titties buckled in girl?" She asked once she noticed Morgana adjusting them.

"I have so much tape securing these puppies. Trust me, nothing is slipping. Can't say the same for you potentially flashing someone tonight." She tossed back.

"My goodies are covered in Swarovski crystals darling!" She quoted a famous celebrity and flicked her waist length braids over her shoulder.

Her exotic eyes glanced over at you. "Are my eyes deceiving me? Is Y/n wearing makeup?! Oh, and what time is it?"

Barbara leaned in closer to see. "She is! That red looks beautiful on you Y/n and it's... ten minutes til Flo."

If only Barbara knew who's lipstick she just complimented. It would be your secret for the night.

The time however had everyone jumping to action. Everyone moved as a unit cleaning up the remnants of dinner and polishing off the cheeseboard. Everything else vanished in the rush to leave. Barbara was scheduling an Uber to the airport, Morgana magically acquired alcohol from thin air, and Florence was live streaming and taking shots with her for the 'gram.

This was it. The night had officially begun. Your heart was racing, utterly ecstatic that tonight was about to happen but you still cast a forlorn glance at Joker's bedroom door wishing you weren't leaving him behind.

It felt wrong somehow leaving the state in light of your situation but what could you do? You refused to hide forever. That much was certain, plus you deserved to have some fun.

Morgana was holding the door open for Barbara and Florence was yelling at you to 'put ya heels on and let's go! before you could call off the night. It was too late for cold feet. They would drag you to the plane kicking and screaming if you tried backing out now.

With the girls waiting for you out in the hallway you quickly grabbed your phone and evening clutch before locking your roommate inside.

Florence insisted on giving the Uber driver five stars simply because she was a real one and blasted music the entire way to the airport.

She understood the vibes and scored more brownie points for having a handicap lift installed in her SUV for Barbara to use. The night was off to a good start that only got better once the SUV came to a stop on the tarmac.

A private jet stood waiting with a crew on the steps to greet you all. It was dark but you noticed the red carpet laid out for the girls to walk on. Whoever Florence's client was, he meant business.

The crew was very accommodating to Barbara and her disability. She was the first aboard using a modified lift built into the hull and with the open layout of the plane, she didn't have to worry about leaving the comfort of her personal chair to save non-existent aisle space.

Barbara thanked each personnel that helped and asked for names so she could write a stellar review. If only this were the treatment with commercial flights. She wasn't the only one enjoying the experience. Morgana had yet to shut up about the fancy jet claiming she 'wanted one.'

Along with being handicap accessible, the interior was cream against a wood finish and there was a fresh smell lingering on everything. Florence was too busy taking selfies with you to notice that something was wrong.

The crew went over the required preflight safety demonstration and offered drinks to everyone, however twenty minutes had passed since boarding the plane and it had yet to taxi down the runway.

"Why aint we moving yet?" Florence asked in general.

Morgana looked out the window like the answers were somehow out there. All she could see was a sea of blinking lights and another plane landing on a nearby runway. Almost on cue an announcement sounded from the plane's intercom.

"Hello ladies! This is your Captain speaking. There's been a slight hiccup that we're actively resolving. Please enjoy your refreshments and I'll have us airborne in ten minutes!"

"I hope everything is alright." You said.

Barbara flagged down a stewardess who repeated the same message as the pilot but with a lot more reassurance. True to their word nine minutes later, you all felt the plane start to move. And just in time. Florence was beginning to tap her heels on the floor.

"Hello ladies. Captain speaking again! You know the drill, buckle up until the seatbelt lights are off. In roughly two hours I'll have you all safe and sound in ATL."

You struck up a conversation with Barbara for the duration of the flight while Morgana and Flo charged their phones and talked amongst themselves. The flight itself wasn't long and relatively smooth until the landing wheels roughly touched down on the ground.

"Welcome to Atlanta ladies! Hope everyone enjoyed the flight. Please make sure you don't leave any personal belongings on your way out. Enjoy the rest of the night and I'll be here waiting to take you back home!"

"Geez, he is too hyper for a Captain." Morgana joked while riding the lift down to the tarmac with Barbara.

It was a little odd in your opinion but you still thanked the crew for their hospitality on the way out. You all climbed into the sleek Cadillac idling near the plane.

This one also was modified to accommodate Barbara and she couldn't keep quiet anymore. "I can't wait to meet this client of yours Flo. He thought of everything!"

You and Morgana buckled in your seatbelts, a row in front of them. You verbally agreed, having never seen a modified plane before until today.

Morgana turnt in her seat to face them. "Just confess that you and him been f__ing. It's the only explanation for all of this." The florist teased.

"I just might." Florence said to herself. All she told him was that she and three of her friends were coming to his club. This was all a shock to her too.

He was pulling out all the stops and it was another shock when the SUV pulled up to a massive club in the heart of Midtown. From the street view, the party was in full swing with a long line trailing down the sidewalk. A lo fi beat shook the exterior and street, striking one's curiosity of the place.

"Woah..." Morgana awed.

The dark three story building was illuminated with lights ranging in purple and blue with the title, Euphoria, in bold cursive font on the front. It put clubs in Gotham to shame.

The driver turned the car onto a side street and then pulled into a designated VIP/Valet drop off area. There were two cars ahead being greeted and ushered into the club. The driver whispered something into his suit sleeve and Barbara's former Batgirl instincts bristled.

Her green eyes darted to the side door that was blocked by a heavyweight bouncer who intercepted the driver's message. Even though she was disabled didn't mean she didn't have her wit about her. This was top level security for just an average nightclub.

"Did this.. client of yours ever tell you what he did for a living Flo?" She asked. Her question would have to wait because the SUV door was yanked open from the outside.

"Welcome to Euphoria ladies."

It didn't matter who said it, everyone knew to exit the car. Barbara grumbled to herself and decided to keep her eyes open for the night until she got answers.

Entering the club was like stepping into another dimension.

The spotlights matched the ones outside, purple and blue, and the entire place was rather cool despite the large crowd of swaying bodies out on the dancefloor. The floors were some kind of marble and it absorbed the shock of the many heels clicking on it. Fog machines kept the atmosphere mysterious and three long bars at the front of the establishment were pumping out drinks by the hundreds. Everything moved in sync yet nothing was overbearing.

The first few minutes after arriving to a club were awkward. You had to get your bearings of the place, fall in love with the music, etc.

Morgana pointed out a row of tables off to the side and suggested setting up base there to start off the night. Along the way Barbara was scooping out exit points and other key information, a habit Batman ingrained in her mind. You followed along eyeing the crowd in intrigue.

Florence was over the moon. Her body was already moving to the beat all the way to the table.

Ironic how this one offered a clear view of the exits and the dance floor. Barbara approved of Morgana's choice. Everyone got situated and decided on ordering a round of drinks. You were officially assigned as the DD however you protested that unanimous decision.

"No one is driving! An entire private plane is taking us home!" You shouted over the music.

"Doesn't matter!" The trio shouted back. You sunk into your seat dejected yet still with a smile on your face.

A round of drinks turned into several and before you knew it, girl's night was at its peak. Everyone was loose but had yet to venture out onto the dance floor. The current song drew to a close courtesy of the live DJ who hyped up the crowd and introduced a new but familiar beat to the crowd.

You locked eyes with Florence and the spark was kinetic.

"I know this ain't what I think it is!" She hollered. You shimmied your shoulders along to the intro. "Yessssss it is!" The two of you were scrambling to your feet when you heard Barbara shout.

"Go have fun, we'll be right here!" She and Morgana shared a laugh when Florence all but dragged you to the dance floor.

By then the song was playing into the chorus and the two of you immediately stole the attention of nearby onlookers with your moves. The beat was pulsing through your veins and any lingering thoughts about your dress, or Joker, hell even Two Face wanting you dead, quickly evaporated.

I'm just here for the touch and the rush.. Don't wanna make it better.. Don't wanna make it better..

The lyrics spoke to you personally. Florence must've felt the same since she twirled around you in an impromptu dance routine the two of you performed with a purpose.

It brought you back to Friday nights back in high school when Flo snuck you out of your parent's home to a football game after party or wherever the music was jumping that night. The two of you were from completely different cliques. You from the poetry club and she the stereotypical cheerleader but on the dance floor, you moved as one. Music formed the friendship you had with her today.

So it was safe to say personal space was non-existent between you two. You and Florence suddenly faced each other, lips nearly touching to sing the lyrics to the song.

Girl, leave your ex on read! Don't get in your head....

Whistles erupted from the crowd at the tease but you paid them no mind as you whipped around to slowly grind down Florence's front. Her hands guided you down as she held a note. All eyes were on the two of you when you began to throw it back on Flo.

The Haitian even smacked your behind for fun and giggles, much to the crowd's delight.

Morgana choked on her drink and Barbara cackled at her friend's reaction. "They're really getting into it tonight." Morgana commented.

She watched the both of you grind on each other when the second verse came and went. It was hot to watch yet it fit the atmosphere in the room. There was a break in the scene when you tripped up a bit when Flo spun you around too fast. People were too drunk to notice anyways.

The song began to fade out but Morgana still kept an eye on you and Florence, unable to look away.

"Yeah they are.. I'm glad we all came. So! Let's talk about you! How's that new storefront coming along?" Barbara asked.

The crowd broke out in cheers once the DJ transitioned the song into another popular hit. The second their eyes shifted away, Florence felt a tap on her shoulder. She smiled at the newcomer and shouted something in your direction. You were letting the music control you and didn't hear.

The R&B soul beat was strong and it swiftly guided you through the motions. Nothing else mattered. You drowned out all background noise except for the music.

Men and women came and went trying to dance on you after Florence left but they were scared away by an individual keeping an eye on you. Someone had to. You were too lost in the moment and none the wiser to be aware of your surroundings. But one guy was brave enough and stepped forward.

Usually, you only let Florence dance with you but the person behind you could be an exception to the rule. The body felt familiar somehow so you allowed it.

Someone must've dimmed the nights because the shadows grew and cloaked your new dancing partner with an air of mystery.

At first their hands rested on your hips but they grew embolden and slid up the front of your dress to your breasts. If the music wasn't lowering your inhibitions (you did drink a bit, much to everyone's shock) you still wouldn't have told them to stop once you felt their lips on your neck. It just felt too good.

You tipped your head back onto their shoulder and whined your hips harder on theirs.

You earned a deep satisfied groan for your efforts. The hand fondling your body snaked up to your neck like a custom necklace and the thrill of it resting there had you moaning out loud too.

"I wonder... If I weren't here, would you let any man touch you like this, Bunny?" You paid no mind to the voice but the nickname they used had your eyes blinking open in shock.

You tried to turn around but the hand on your neck squeezed in warning. "Don't. Stop. Now. Keep being a slut and work those hips of yours. Noooo one has to know you've been naughty.. 'cept me."

Joker chuckled in your ear before biting down hard on your neck. You cried out in pain. The current song's bass drowned it out instantly.

His hand bunched the fabric of your dress up and he growled on your skin when he found you bare for him. You tensed up at the angry notes creeping in your ear.

"No panties Y/n? You flew to another city with no.. Oh. Princess. My dirty f__ing slut. You want me to lose my mind huh? No much left of it buuuuut. Why else would you be naked underneath this dress hmm?"

Joker kept up appearances and swayed with your body although you hardly cared. All of your senses were on Joker behind you.

Your brain failed to form sentences. "I-I that's not.."

You didn't want any panty lines in your dress so you went commando. He'd flip his ish when he discovered you weren't wearing a bra either but screw all of that. You were still in shock as to how he got here. Once again you tried to turn around but Joker was always thinking two steps ahead of you.

Nothing could prepare you for the feeling of Joker's fingers rubbing your clit right there on the dance floor.

Your hips bucked involuntarily trying to run away from the assault but Joker pushed you back flush to his body. Your jaw hit the floor in disbelief when he rubbed even faster.

It felt wrong yet so right even as you locked eyes with a girl from across the way.

The dim lights reflected off her dyed hair. She winked at you, almost as if she knew what Joker was doing, and your cheeks tingled in shame. You looked away but it didn't help relieve the pleasure Joker was giving you.

"Joker.. stop. This isn't right.." You glanced at the table where Barbara and Morgana sat but found it empty.

A wave of fear washed over you. Where did they go? Maybe that was what Florence was trying to tell you before she disappeared.

You were snatched from your thoughts by Joker inserting a finger inside. "Your lips are tellin me to stop but she's begging me to keep going." Both of you felt how wet you were. You were practically dripping with arousal. It confirmed Joker's teasing.

Your body was working against you and it didn't take long for a knot to build just beneath your navel.

It was amplified by being out in the open. An energetic couple danced into your line of vision, blissfully unaware you were seconds away from coming. "Go on. Do. It." Joker cajoled in your ear.

Right as you were about to let go, Joker and his touch disappeared. You pitched forward until another pair of hands caught you.

"Girl?! What are you doing!? Florence's friend invited us to the private lounge upstairs." Morgana noticed your shaky legs and flushed cheeks and raised an eyebrow.

You probably looked a hot mess under the flashing lights.

"S-Sorry I ah.. ahem. Lead the way." You pulled your dress back down to its original length and cleared your throat.

She didn't say anything but dragged you to the elevators where Barbara was waiting.

"Took you two long enough." The redhead mashed the button to call the elevator and discreetly eyed your dazed state.

She glanced at Morgana who simply shrugged. The three of you rode the lift to the second floor that overlooked the sea of moving bodies down below.

Only a plane of glass separated you from the crowd below. It felt like a completely different club up here. There was another dance floor up here that was flanked by plush couches and tables with important looking people and their entrange sprinkled about.

The same music from downstairs was playing and people were dancing to it but you could carry on a conversation up here and not have to scream in someone's ear to hear them.

Off to the side of the room was an iron spiral staircase leading up into the unknown. The level above was devoid of light and you surmised shady business was handled therein. You hoped Florence's client wasn't waiting for everyone up there.

Thankfully an attractive man dressed in an all black suit approached your trio. "You girls with Florence?"

He eyed the group's outfits, lingering much longer on Morgana's dress and she definitely noticed.

"Yeah. Wanna show us the way?" She leaned forward so he could see the valley of cleavage she sported.

Barbara smacked her forehead at the flirtatious reply. Typical Morgana to flirt with a stranger. Maybe that's why her business was so successful?

He grinned and waved everyone over to a booth. The lights were dimmer on this floor, almost completely dark, so you had to squint to see Florence's feathery sleeves wrapped around someone at the table.

A guy sat in the middle with your friend practically in his lap with a blonde African female on his left, who smiled in greeting when the three of you showed up. Florence was still laughing at whatever that was said but stopped when she saw her friends.

"There y'all are! I told Y/n we were invited up to VIP like, thirty minutes ago!" Everyone stared at you with disappointment but your mind was elsewhere.

Flo paid it no mind and continued. "Barbara, Morgana, Y/n, I'd like you to meet my client...."

Neo.

He acknowledged the others before locking eyes with you. One subtle shake of his head told you everything. Florence didn't know she was sitting on one of Joker's henchmen's lap. It felt like someone shoved your head underwater. Joker was here; Neo's smug grin confirmed it.

You didn't hallucinate your stolen orgasm downstairs. Joker traveled over nine hundred miles just to mess with you. You didn't know whether to be concerned or flattered.

".. and that's Iris. She's his assistant. Which means she's the secret assassin bodyguard. Ooh! Y/n you should interview her for inspiration for one of your books!"

Florence was just babbling at this point. Iris stood to give Morgana her seat but not before whispering in Neo's ear. Both of them glanced at you and she walked off with a knowing smile. Barbara noticed the exchange but without any context she couldn't pry.

She parked her wheelchair in front of the table and struck up a conversation with Neo that Morgana soon joined. It was time she got some answers. Which left you sliding into the booth next to Florence who quickly slung her arm around your shoulders.

The beautician was intoxicated at this point although she was nowhere near her goal of being drunkity drunk. Whatever that meant. You refused to carry her tonight if that was her goal.

"B__ch ain't he fine? Like tall, dark and handsome, reeking of BDE, fine? I might stay the night and get some of that Georgia peach's dick."

You didn't have the heart to tell Florence that Neo lived in Gotham City but nodded along regardless. Flo thought she whispered this to you but judging by Barbara stuttering mid sentence, unfortunately it was said too loud.

The redhead eyed the two of you with a mother-like glare. Strike one. She resumed her discussion with Neo like nothing happened. He paused to wink at Florence. Only Barb would talk business and acquisitions in a club with the owner. Morgana was no better; she was serious when asking Neo what the margins were like for running Euphoria.

And you were the sober one.

You sighed before responding. "Y-Yeah.. sure he's hot and you did an amazing job with his braids, might I add. You are dressed to get laid so.." You gestured at her see through attire as if held the answer.

She laughed, "True, true. And I did go crazy on his hair design." A waiter walked by and she flagged him down to order a drink. "Can I–"

"Hold on Mama, you're with me." Neo stopped Florence from ordering and locked eyes with the waiter. "Bottle service. Top shelf my man."

He kissed Florence's cheek and she melted in her seat. "That aight with y'all?" Neo asked the table. Everyone was in agreement until Florence scoffed. "Y/n doesn't drink!"

You and Barbara just sighed. Did she forget you drank with her and the girls downstairs?

Neo's light brown eyes flickered over to you. And so the staring match began. You and Neo weren't on good terms. Not since he waved a gun in your face outside of Luigi's pizza.

You tolerated Frost the most out of Joker's trusted three and that said something. His driving skills still horrified you. Neo reeked of arrogance. You weren't a fan.

"Is that so? I can order you some juice... water. Some warm milk?"

Morgana snorted at the joke. "That's not necessary. She drank a (insert fav drink) just a while ago. Florence just can't remember cuz she's too drunk. Isn't that right, Y/n/n?"

"Y/n/n?" Neo repeated sarcastically.

Barbara noticed your annoyed eye roll and elaborated. "It's an inside joke between us four. She hates it although it suits her well." She then launched into the story behind your nickname with Morgana adding funny details along the way.

Neo nodded along, learning more about you. In between the story, the waiter returned with two chilled bottles sitting in a bucket of ice with five champagne glasses, the extra one holding lit sparklers. Your order was placed during the grand spectacle.

Other tables looked over at the lively service in intrigue. Neo popped the bottles open and dutifully filled three glasses for your friends before pouring his own. Cheers were being made but someone tapped your shoulder and stole your attention. You were about to thank the waiter for bringing your drink when you locked eyes with green.

Joker was bold. He looked like an average employee, holding a serving tray. "Your drink, miss."

Your eyes flickered to his lips stressing the syllables only to find that he wasn't wearing a mask. You were flabbergasted. It was dark but not enough for him to walk around so exposed!

"Y/n, do you know him or something? He look familiar." You wiped your head around to face Florence.

She sipped on her flute of champagne eyeing Joker pensively.

Neo was too busy staring at her body but he glanced at his boss in shock after hearing her words. Florence was getting too curious about Joker and soon, so would Barbara and Morgana. He was cloaked in darkness but that would only do so much against a native Gothamite. If anyone could identify a wanted criminal it was a suspicious black woman.

Joker narrowed his eyes at Neo. It issued a silent order, one that Neo quickly translated, since he moved to distract his date faster than the Flash on crack.

"Florence baby, you wanna dance a bit?" He suggested.

She readily agreed and off they went to the dancefloor. Crisis avoided. Thank goodness she was drunk. You exhaled but remembered you weren't alone.

At the same time that Florence got curious, Morgana had caught the eye of a man from a different table and proceeded to flirt over the rim of her champagne glass. Barbara was preoccupied with texting on her phone.

You would bet twenty dollars she was texting Grayson. That or she was using her phone as a mobile access point to her PC back in Gotham. Either way, no one was paying attention to you and Joker took advantage of that.

He set your drink on the glass table and whispered in your ear while doing so. "Go up the spiral stairs in five minutes. Second door and, uh, don't keep me waiting."

With that said, he was gone, blending in with the club's shadows.

Play it off Y/n. Don't make it too obvious. You told yourself.

You nursed your drink and scanned the room in fake interest while counting down the minutes. More people were on the dance floor and the vibe was slowly matching the one on the floor below. Morgana left the table to talk directly to her crush and Barbara was nodding her head to the music, practicing glued to her phone.

The low glow from it highlighted her amused grin. She was definitely texting Dick.

"Hey.. uh. I'll be right back." You said in her direction.

"Yeah sure." She didn't spare you a glance and you didn't waste any time making your escape.

You grabbed your clutch and dipped. It felt like the entire floor was watching you rush up the stairs yet you made it there with no issues. True to his word, there was a hallway up here lined with doors. Joker mentioned the second, so you approached it cautiously.

The inside was dark but you could tell it was a finance office of sorts. An ornate desk sat in the center and you walked up to it. The surface was cool to the touch and dust free.

The door clicking shut behind you made you drop your clutch on the floor. Before you could panic, warm hands held you close. You knew these arms.

"Joker! What— seriously you gotta stop scaring me! And have you lost your mind?"

He turned you around to face him and looked up at the ceiling, thinking it over. "Yes."

You frowned. "That's not what I meant. Did you really follow me to Atlanta? What if someone sees—"

He cut you off with a kiss. It quickly turned heated and you soon lost track of what you were upset about. His hands roamed your body in reverence and made you dizzy.

"You didn't get to.. ahh cum downstairs. Are ya up for it now?" He asked while licking your pulse.

How could you forget? You thought you imagined it since it happened so abruptly. "Seriously? Now?"

He seared a yes on your skin and tried pushing your dress up but your hands stopped him halfway. He groaned in defeat and rocked his hips into yours instead.

You were shocked by his sense of urgency. "Joker, quit it! Someone will hear us!"

"Hear what? Hmm? The sounds of you screaming my name or.. the musiC?" Right as he said that, someone turned up the volume.

The crowd shouted their thanks and you had no further excuses to use. His words made your face hot. Just how much control did he have here?

"Dress. Off." Joker ordered. Apparently more than what you were expecting.

"But—"

The clicking sound of a switchblade echoed in the room. "Or I'll cut it off. Looks expensive too." Joker licked his scars eyeing your designer dress.

You knew Joker wasn't one for empty threats. You pouted and turned around to present your zipper to him. His deep hum of approval caused more slick to run down your thigh and you rubbed them together hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Sooo.. needy."

Of course he noticed. Nothing got past Joker.

The sharp sting of the blade nicking your skin was your only warning before he cut your dress off. You hunched forward clutching the ruined fabric to your chest in shock.

"Joker!"

"Ahttt aht ttt. I said take it off, not show me your a** no matter how sexy it is. No bra either? Tsk tsk." He smacked your behind causing you to yelp.

Suddenly Joker was hot and heavy against your back.

"You gonna be my good girl, Y/n? There's still time to.." He reached around and cupped your pussy. "Well. Someone is sopping wet. Does this excite you Bunny?" He circled his thumb on your clit.

He already knew the answer. Joker didn't bother locking the door and anyone could walk in and see your body giving in to his control over it.

You were panting and struggling to keep yourself upright. Your nipples had already hardened to stiff peaks and you were a mess even though Joker had yet to do anything serious.

He was right though. The fear, the overall excitement of being caught, had you wetter than you've ever been. The pleasure he created made you lightheaded and the sensation spurred you on.

"I wanna be your good girl." You gasped. He repeated your sentiment right back into your ear, mocking you for no reason only because he could.

"Yeah? You do? Well good girls don't leave the house without panties or a bra. Goood girls aren't uh.. greedy sluts in public." He slipped a finger inside your pussy, growling at the lack of resistance. "They saw you chasing that high doll. Out on the dance floor. You were so close.. They wanted you to let go. To feel that high. That. Rush. I want you to let go. Right. Now. Can you? For meee? Let go, c'mon on. Do iT."

Joker pumped his fingers faster into you as he talked you through it. His unique voice guiding you was the perfect accelerant to throw you over the edge.

He was notorious for his grand speeches. The way he carefully articulated his words and captivated an audience was riveting. Too bad your head was so far in the clouds you barely understood a single word. A string of yes's tumbled from your lips as you came on Joker's fingers.

His right hand rested atop yours on the desk to prevent your nails from clawing into its wood finish.

The pleasure washed over you leaving your ears ringing. You tried to regulate your breathing but it was all too much.

The music playing in the other room was just buzzing noise in your ear. You weren't a good girl. Even after coming you ached for more. You wanted Joker and he knew your body better than yourself.

"Shhhh shhh. I know. It's never enough." You whimpered as he turned you around to prop you up on the desk.

His hands came up to cradle your head as he devoured your lips. Joker always made you feel small in his arms. And when you parted lips and gazed into juniper eyes, you knew he wanted you to completely submit to him.

Giving that much of yourself was like a drug to him. Joker looked high off the idea alone. When he backed away you reached out for him.

He said nothing as he rounded the desk and sat down in the big executive chair. You looked over your shoulder at him, a question already forming on your tongue. With a lone finger he ordered you to come closer.

The desk was oddly bare but it worked in your favor for what you were about to do.

It was awkward at first since you still wore your heels and nothing else, but you slowly crawled over the desk to face Joker. He looked every bit the Prince of Crime seated on his throne. All that was missing was his—

"Sit on my lap Princess."

The gap between the table and his lap was scary but Joker was right there to catch you.

There was power alluding from his body as you sat completely bare on his clothed lap. You ran your hands against the dark fabric of his chest.

He was wearing a suit but not his signature one. This one was designer and oozing with dominance. Another perfect disguise for him to do what he wanted. It made you squirm in anticipation. You went about unbuttoning the black dress shirt but faced backlash.

"Did I tell you to undress me?" He asked. You shook your head. "Then don'T."

Joker's hands slid up and down your back mapping out your dips and curves while kneading your backside. You braced for the sting that never came. Instead he struck you elsewhere.

His teeth sank into your neck and you keened sharply.

He let go with a wet pop. "Too much? Orrr? Not enough?"

You fisted his shirt and choked out a sob. Joker eyed you hungrily and reached over to flick the table lamp on to see you fully. The area was bathed in warm gold and Joker finally got to see his long awaited treat.

"Look... at you Bunny." His thumb swiped at the stubborn red adorning your lips. Something about you completely nude with his shade of red on, sent him into a state.

You didn't know what had gotten into Joker but he declared no more words were needed and quickly unzipped his fly to free himself.

He didn't bother removing his pants all the way; they were hastily shoved to his knees before he hovered you above his aching cock. Harsh pants were shared in the small space between your lips and Joker's. He interpreted your gentle nod as permission to continue.

Your eyes locked with his lust blown green and your jaw slackened as the slow stretch stole your breath away.

"Oh my god."

"That ain't my name bunny but mmm. Close enough." He pushed you down until you were flush with his hips. You cried out at the fullness. Joker wrapped his arms around you when he felt you shivering.

He wasn't any better. It made no sense how tight you were. He tipped his head back laughing to keep from whining like some virgin schoolboy. It took all of his willpower not to ravish your body for his own pleasure. Instead, Joker rocked your hips back and forth, churning his dick in your insides as payback for making him feel so weak.

Your voice got caught in your throat after a rough buck of his hips. "Jo—ker!"

"That'ssss it. That's my name." Joker buried his head on your shoulder, biting down on it to stifle his moan.

What soon followed was straight out of a fever dream.

If anyone dared to venture up the spiral staircase the distinctive sound of sex would greet them. You let each and every pornographic moan rip from your throat in the throes of ecstasy.

Joker didn't hold back his strength and slammed you down on his cock and teased you in between his own heavy pants. He praised you for being so tight, scolded you for being a greedy slut, and for always running away, don't ever run from him was pounded deep into your pussy.

He laughed at you when your eyes rolled back into your skull and slapped your face to force your eyes back on him in the same millisecond. Your eye makeup was ruined but Joker's line of sight was trained on your pristine red lips moving a mile a minute.

You didn't know what you were saying. "P-Please please oh hmph.. Please!"

It was just mindless nonsense in the wave of pleasure consuming your senses. Yet Joker was always attentive.

"Whatcha begging for, Bunny? Breathe n' tell meee." He growled and grabbed a handful of your hair.

The sharp pain had you staring at him with watery eyes and a pouty lip. Joker never seen a more prettier sight.

You didn't know what you wanted. It was all too much for his pathetic bunny. Joker's grin was horrifying in the limited light in the room yet it was the most beautiful sight to you. Your eyes watered up even more.

"Shush shush Y/n. You ahh.. you knooow.. I hate it. I hate when you cry. Mhm. It. Drives. Me. Crazy."

Each word was pounded into you as Joker finally snapped.

He secured a bruising grip on your hips and rose to his feet. You felt weightless for a spell until the cool surface of the desk hit your back. You arched away from it but Joker's sweltering body forced you back down. There was nowhere to go and Joker's shoulders were your only anchor to Earth. All you had to do was keep your legs pulled back and accept the brutal f__k Joker subjected you to.

He groaned uncontrollably and picked up the pace.

You were uncertain if it was the new angle or simply the level of intensity Joker pounded your pussy with but the moment he shifted and started bullying your g spot, you were done. He knew you were close by the strength you used to push at his shoulders.

Always running away... but not this time.

"Aww right there? C'mon doll, give it to me, give it to me." Joker mumbled under his breath. He held your head still and grinned down at your pain stricken face each delicious time the tip of his dick hit your sweet spot. "You can do iT.."

Your lips, stained his signature red, opened in a silent scream as the final cusp of pleasure tipped you over into the nether.

Joker hissed at the death grip your pussy had on his dick. He managed to fight through it although he was seconds from coming undone too. He didn't know why he kept talking; you wouldn't understand a thing. It was mostly done to chase his own high.

"Your pussy is gonna take everything I give her, mkay? T-Take everything I give you Bunny." Maybe it was best that you couldn't hear.

Joker was lost in pleasure, he sounded so unlike himself in that moment.

The things you did to him. He'd endure the feeling of being pulled apart one piece at a time, only to be forcefully slammed back together again any day with you. He grabbed the edge of the desk and let the last few thrusts into your worn pussy echo loudly in the room.

Only then was it quiet.

It took a while for Joker to get his bearings straight. Every time he had sex with you it got better than before.

You were turning him into a drug addict with you being the most refined drug to grace the Earth. Joker relocated you back into his lap and sat back down in the office chair. You were sound asleep, cuddled up to his dress shirt and shivering from the cold, not arousal.

He drew a breath and raked a hand through his hair, thinking of how to get you out of here without any clothes.

Cutting your dress seemed hot in the heat of the moment but now he eyed the ruined fabric on the floor with a grimace. He refused to let anyone see you in such a state and yet he couldn't resist destroying any and all barriers between him and your body during sex.

Your beauty was for Joker's eyes only, yet there was an entire two floor's worth of people separating you from the exit. He was forming a plan in his head when a series of beeps rang from your phone.

Oddly enough your clutch, and subsequently, your phone survived the fall to the floor and landed near the desk. Joker didn't have to reach far to grab it.

He didn't know your passcode yet but thankfully you enabled messages to be visible from the lock screen. There were a slew of other notifications mixed in with a few missed calls.

The most recent notification were concerned texts from your friends.

If Joker remembered correctly Florence was the girl you danced with earlier. She was very outspoken and... confident. Her sheer covering, (Joker refused to call it a dress) was eye-catching, but she wasn't his type.

Joker liked you and only you. Awkward and skittish Y/n. He grumbled at his soft thoughts and read your text messages.

'B__h wtf?' Sent from Florence.

Exactly two minutes later Barbara, the Commissioner's daughter, Joker said sarcastically to himself, sent a message.

'where r u hello? Y/n/n seriously you said you'd be right back'

Morgana chimed in instantly. '$100 she's getting some!'

Joker smirked at that. She wasn't wrong and he liked bets but he continued to read. He watched as the funny check-ins turned into serious concern. They already searched the first floor and came up empty and the most recent message from your friend Flo read as follows.

'this isn't funny Y/n I asked Neo to look for you

Joker sighed. It was posted seven minutes ago which meant his henchmen was making his way up here soon.

Joker glanced at the time on your cell before settling his eyes on you tuckered out on his chest. You'd hate him later for it but his thumbs were already holding down the blue bubble and typing out a response.

Y/n: 😏👌🏾👉🏾🍆

Immediately three messages popped up simultaneously. He read them in order, Florence being the first.

'whore! Lead with that next time ugh I swear!

Your florist friend was next with her priorities in order.

'Run me my money!! Cashapp me'

Barbara seemed to be the most responsible of the group. Her strict upbringing no doubt at play.

'Ok seriously don't scare us like that Y/n. Morgana is flying back with me. Flo, can you make sure Y/n gets back to Gotham safely? The club is closing in the nxt hour'

Euphoria's public hours were nine pm to three in the morning. But those hours didn't phase Joker when he was the owner. Neo just ran things legally.

Although the base of operations was in Gotham City, Joker took pride in being a national threat. In every major city, he had a sector with enough influence to be respected but not as large as his reputation in Gotham. He took great pride in being feared across the country. A new message chimed in and his eyes flickered down to read it.

'uh uh get someone else to do it, I gotta get mines 🤪🍆'

He liked this Florence gal. He knew any sensible man wouldn't leave her company and that meant Neo wouldn't come sniffing around where he didn't belong.

The noise level had greatly diminished as the closing hour approached. Joker decided to wait until the club closed to the public before searching for some clothes for you.

You mumbled something in your sleep and he took pity on the goosebumps rising on your dark skin. He wasn't getting soft. Honestly he wasn't.

His discarded suit jacket would have to do for the next forty five minutes to keep you warm. It practically swallowed your frame with how small you were.

Joker brushed a curl away so he could see your face better. You were curled up in his arms with his red lipstick highlighting the small smile on your face even as you slept.

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