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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 29: Sasha

Nobody in the Archives says anything, but a subtle change starts coming over the team after Michael’s unexpected visit. Jon starts spending more and more of his time in his office and seems tense and fidgety whenever they go in to talk to him, or he comes out to talk to them. Tim’s body language becomes more and more closed-off and his jokes become rarer and with an edge to them that’s never been there before. Martin seems mostly himself, but there’s a desperate, almost frantic eagerness to please about him that hasn’t been there since the first few months they were all in the Archives when he was trying desperately to earn Jon’s tolerance, if not approval.

Sasha makes it three weeks before she cracks.

It’s Tim that’s the final straw, Tim and the look he puts on Martin’s face. They’re winding down for the evening, tidying up their desks and the statements they’ve been dealing with—mostly false, to be honest—and Martin ducks into Jon’s office to remind him of the time, then comes back and informs Tim that Jon is “finishing something up” and won’t be ready to leave for a bit.

Tim shoves a drawer shut. “Fine. He knows the way home then.” He snatches up his files and stomps off to put them back on the shelf.

For just a second, Martin lets his emotions loose from behind the placid look he’s had plastered there lately, and Sasha sees the genuine shock and devastation in his eyes. Tim’s only left Jon behind once in the almost six months since the infestation of the Archives, and she still remembers Martin’s mock-stern look, Tim’s teasing smirk, and Jon’s sheepish grin as they told her about having to literally talk him out of the building. Hell, he barely lets—or let, anyway—Sasha walk out of the Archives alone after she stopped living with them; his protective-slash-herding instincts have been in overdrive. And both he and Martin worry about Jon’s health and safety, a lot. Bad enough that Tim is—seemingly—willing to leave Jon behind. Worse that he’s essentially making Martin choose between them. Sasha actually can’t guess which way he’ll go.

“Right, that does it,” she says abruptly. She looks at Martin and waves at Jon’s office. “Go get Jon out of his office.”

“He’s in the middle of—”

“He’ll come if you ask him,” Sasha says certainly. “But you’ll have to ask him.”

Martin frowns. “Why?”

“Because you’re the one he trusts most right now.” For a second, Sasha feels a little…not lightheaded, exactly, but the same sensation she gets when she drinks a glass of champagne too fast. It’s a feeling that’s been increasingly common lately, so as usual, she ignores it and keeps talking. “The only recording he has of Tim from before that table was delivered is the one we did the night after Jane Prentiss attacked, and he can’t bring himself to relisten to it, so he’s got no real proof Tim hasn’t been taken over by that thing the Primes mentioned. And even though he knows you and I are still ourselves, he’s a little on edge around me because I’ve been more distant than the two of you have been. So while he doesn’t really think any of us are out to get him, you’re definitely the only one who’s going to be able to pry him out of his shell like the stubborn mollusk he is.”

Martin stares at her for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly.

He gets up from his desk and goes over to Jon’s office. Sasha gets up, too, puts on her jacket, and then goes over to the trapdoor and unearths the handle, but doesn’t open it yet. Instead, she heads back to their cluster of desks, grabs a torch out her drawer, and waits.

Martin, accompanied by Jon, comes towards her just as Tim comes back out of the shelves. Sasha doesn’t hesitate. She grabs Tim’s arm in an iron grip and jerks her head at Martin. “Come on. This way.”

“Sasha, what the hell—” Tim begins, but Sasha doesn’t give him a chance to argue further. She drags Tim over to the trapdoor, yanks it open, and half-shoves him down ahead of her.

“Come on,” she repeats over her shoulder, then starts down the steps herself. Behind her, she can hear Martin coaxing Jon into heading down under the floor, and then the door shuts behind them, leaving them in darkness for a split second before Sasha clicks on her torch.

She doesn’t bother knocking on the first door they come to, just turns the knob and opens it. The Primes start up from a nest of blankets, blinking sleep out of their eyes, which, okay, she should have expected. They aren’t exactly nocturnal, but they also don’t have cell phones anymore—not that there’s service in the tunnels anyway—so they tend to sleep when they feel like and get up when they want, and since they can’t come out into the Archives safely during business hours, they ordinarily don’t wake up until close to the time the team is usually packing up to leave. All of which is something they’ve certainly told her at some point and she’s filed away for later use and just never thought about until now. They both look slightly panicked, likely because neither one of them has the slightest clue who just barged in.

“This,” Sasha announces, releasing Tim’s arm and pulling the door shut behind Jon and Martin, “is an intervention.”

“Sasha, Christ, you scared the piss out of us.” Martin Prime sighs.

“Sorry,” Sasha says, even though she isn’t particularly. “I just thought we ought to do this somewhere the Ceaseless Watcher…couldn’t.”

Jon Prime feels about and locates two pairs of glasses. He slides one of them onto his face, then hands the other to Martin Prime before getting to his feet. “An intervention for what?” he asks, sounding weary.

“Yeah, an intervention for what?” Tim echoes. He sounds pissed. Tough.

Sasha folds her arms over her chest and glares at him. “That’s part of it. You’re acting like the world has personally offended you and you’re taking it out on the three of us. And you”—she turns her glare on Jon and waves a finger at him, which he flinches back from like she’s flung a knife at him—“are twitchier than the most neurotic statement-givers we’ve ever had down here. It’s getting ridiculous and it stops now.”

“Oh, does it?” Tim snarls. “What makes you think it works like that?”

“It’s going to work like that if I have to knock your fool heads together,” Sasha snaps back. “You can’t keep going on like this. We don’t deserve your attitude—”

“My attitude?”

“—and you don’t need to be so suspicious—”

“I beg your pardon?” Jon bristles at her.

“—so enough is enough—”

“You expect me to believe—” Jon’s voice is rising with every word.

“—anything to worry about—” Tim is waving a finger at her.

“Guys, come on,” Martin says pleadingly, but it gets lost under the flurry of words from the others.

“I’ve got one of those, too.” Sasha brandishes her own finger at Tim. “You can’t—”

“—what you’re hiding—”

“—all calm down and—”

“—don’t even care—”

“—trying to work while you—”

“—never see what you’re—”

“—lack of oversight—”

“Everybody shut up!” Martin Prime shouts.

The silence is almost deafening as all four of them turn to look at Martin Prime. His eyes are closed and he’s massaging his temples. “Look, if you’re in here having this talk, it’s because you want us to be involved in it, and I cannot follow the conversation if you’re all talking at once. Frankly, I doubt any of you can either, but I can’t focus on who’s saying what and it all blends together. If you don’t want us involved, fine, go find another room to argue in, but if you’re going to do this in here, knock it off. You are going to have to take turns.”

Sasha’s never actually heard Martin—either Martin—raise his voice, which definitely serves to make her pause. They all stand in silence for a long moment before Tim speaks. “Fine. I’ll start. You want to talk about my attitude? Let’s talk about my attitude. Or better yet, let’s talk about your attitudes, towards this whole…situation.”

“What?” Martin and Jon speak at the same time, Martin sounding confused and worried and Jon deadly calm.

“We are working for the evil embodiment of knowledge,” Tim grates out. “You know that. You know the more we learn about this shit, the deeper we go! And none of you are even hesitating—”

“Tim, it’s our job,” Martin tries. “We—”

“You’re not even trying to resist it!” Tim shouts, wheeling around to face Martin as he clenches his hands into tight fists.

Martin flinches. No, that’s too mild a word for it. Martin recoils, cringing back away from Tim and curling inward on himself, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped protectively around his midsection, head turned sharply to one side, eyes screwed shut, lips pressed tightly together. He looks up just as quickly as he looked away, eyes wide and wet. His pupils are so blown out they almost swallow his irises whole, and his skin is paper white, throwing every freckle into relief so stark they look almost three-dimensional. It obviously costs him a great deal to make eye contact with Tim, but he manages it, and something about his posture…

It hits Sasha in the same moment it hits Tim, judging by the sudden shift in Tim’s expression. Martin has braced himself to take a blow. He actually expects Tim—Tim—to lay a hand on him. Since Sasha knows it’s not anything Tim has ever done in the past that makes Martin think that, it must be something from further back, and she’s struck with a sudden, powerful desire to take a trip up to Devon and find out if all the true crime stuff she reads in her spare time will make it easier for her to commit a homicide and not get caught.

The anger drains out of Tim’s face, replaced with shock and remorse. “Oh, God,” he chokes out. “Martin, I—I didn’t—” He starts to reach out, then evidently realizes that won’t help and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve been watching all three of you. I-I told you the other day, I see your face—all your faces—when you’re looking into some of this stuff, and…I’m scared. I’ve already lost one person I care about to this. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” He takes a deep breath. “And—I feel like I’m watching you all die right in front of me.”

“Oh, Tim,” Jon Prime murmurs. He sounds—and looks—heartbroken, and Sasha remembers the careful way the Primes picked around talking about Tim that first day. She wonders if Tim Prime felt the same way, and if they ever got this conversation. From the pinched look on Martin Prime’s face as he wraps his arm around Jon Prime’s waist, she somehow doubts it.

Martin’s lip trembles, and he swallows twice before he manages to speak in a small, shaking voice. “It’s not—i-it’s hard, Tim. I’m t-trying, but…I think it’s too late for me. Even before…even before we knew, I was…” He closes his eyes and turns his head away for a moment, evidently fighting back the tears. “I thought it was just wanting to prove myself. Now I don’t know. But i-if I don’t dig into things deep enough, it hurts. And I don’t know how to stop it.” He looks up and turns to Martin Prime, but without, Sasha notices, relaxing his protective posture. “Was it…was it like that for you?”

Martin Prime hesitates, then nods. “I think so. It’s hard to be sure, since, you know, I didn’t know what we were up against for longer, but by the time I started thinking maybe this wasn’t a great idea and I should stop…I couldn’t.”

“My God,” Jon Prime breathes. “I-I didn’t realize…was it like that for the others?”

“Maybe? It’s not like we sat around and compared notes. And I was definitely in it deeper than everyone else, even before things got bad.”

“Jesus.” Tim tugs at his hair for a moment, then lets his hands drop to his sides. “I am sorry, Martin. A-and you, too,” he adds, looking at Jon, then at Sasha. “You’re right, you don’t deserve…I just, it’s always been an issue with me. I get scared and it comes out as anger. I’m not angry at you. Not really. I mean…maybe I was, a little, but mostly it’s the whole…situation. I feel so damned helpless. I didn’t know anything about what Danny was involved in, so I couldn’t do anything to save him, and I lost him. Now I do know what’s going on, and I still can’t do anything to stop it.” He takes a deep breath. “I—I’ll try to talk it out before it gets this bad again.”

“Thank you,” Martin says softly.

“That helps,” Jon mutters. “A bit.”

“Right, your turn,” Sasha says, turning to face him. “What’s got you so on edge?”

Jon stiffens. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Jon. You’re as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. I half expect to go into your office and see you with a map covered in pins and string. And I don’t get it.” Sasha ticks off points on her fingers. “You know who killed Gertrude Robinson, so it isn’t like you suspect one of us, let alone suspect us of trying to kill you. You’ve been obsessively playing every tape you can find from before that table got delivered that has one of us on it, over and over, so you know our voices by heart and know we haven’t been taken over, except for Tim because you can’t bring yourself to re-listen to the tape you made after Jane Prentiss attacked, but you’ve got that Polaroid we took on your birthday last year stuck in the bottom drawer with your backup recorder, so—”

“How do you know that?” Jon interrupts, a slight edge to his voice and his eyes widening.

Sasha stops, runs through what she just said, and covers her mouth with one hand. “Oh, shit.”

“You say things like this and I’m supposed to, what, not be suspicious? Not worry that I’m just…hearing what I want to hear on the tapes and you’re not—” Jon waves a hand at her.

“No, I’m—I haven’t been snooping through your office or anything. I just—” Sasha winces and glances at Tim. “I guess I’m…in too deep, too.”

A despairing look flits through Tim’s eyes. “I was afraid of that.”

“Jon, I swear to you, nobody in this room has it out for you,” Sasha says, turning back to her boss. “And I think the evidence is on the side of ‘I would know’. You know that, too. I told Martin earlier you don’t really suspect any of us, I know you don’t. I’d even go so far as to say I capital-K Know it. The Not-Them isn’t in the Archives. We don’t even have any real evidence that it’s anywhere, that it’s taken over anyone, and if it has it isn’t bothering us—”

“But we don’t know that!” Jon bursts out, gesturing in a way that has Martin taking a half-step back to avoid his flailing hands. “There’s no—it could be anyone in the Institute, it’s not like any of us went around gathering tape recordings or taking Polaroids or anything, so how would we know? How could any of us know? I-it could be anywhere, it could—and it’s not just that thing. Michael just appeared in my office, and even if he was after Helen Richardson, he could come in at any time. Jane Prentiss was living in the walls, my God, she—she was right here all that time, for all those weeks, a-and she could have come in at any time and we never would have known. Breekon and Hope just appeared—Rosie said she had no idea how they got in to deliver the table, and then they came down here and—they could have done anything and I wasn’t even here—” He draws in a sharp breath. “You think you can’t—I-I’m supposed to be in charge. If, if these things can just waltz in whenever they please and I can’t even detect them before it’s too late…it’s bad enough when they come after me, I-I almost want them to come after me, because that means they aren’t going after you. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t keep any of you safe.”

Jon Prime closes his eyes and turns his head towards Martin Prime’s shoulder. The tears brim up in Martin’s eyes, but he blinks them back fiercely. Tim lets out a hiss between his teeth. “And you think we’re going to be okay if you get hurt?”

“No! No, but—God.” Jon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m scared, too. A-and I’ve never—I’ve always had to deal with this sort of thing alone. So I—I suppose I went too far that way. I was trying to handle it all myself, and…” He looks up and looks at the other three. “I am sorry. I never meant—I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t realize I was—”

“Shutting us out?” Sasha supplies.

“Folding in on myself. Scared of things getting down into the Archives, and it started translating into being scared of what was already here. I-it all…compounded.” Jon gives a small, bitter laugh. “I was so desperate to protect you all that I didn’t realize I was making things worse. I-I’ll try to open up a bit more, too.”

Martin’s shoulders sag slightly in evident relief. Tim manages a smile. “Tell you what, boss. I’ll let you know if you’re being an asshole if you’ll do the same for me, deal?”

Jon actually smiles back, a little. “Deal.” The smile fades, though, as he turns to Sasha. “I—while we’re being honest, Sasha…I’m not sure how much I trust you these days. It’s—it’s not that I think you’re…I know you’re still you. You’re right. I know that. But…you’re keeping secrets. I-I’m not saying you’re not allowed to, but…the way you avoid us, it makes me worry about why. What you’re up to.”

A stab of panic hits Sasha, for no real reason. It’s not like it’s a dangerous secret or anything, it’s just…she doesn’t tell her secrets. “It’s not about the job, Jon. I promise.”

“I believe you, but…that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt us. Or you, for that matter. I worry that you’re involved in something that might be…” Jon gestures vaguely at the universe.

“You’re the one with the ability to just know things about people,” Tim points out. “Which means our ability to keep secrets from you has just gone down drastically, not that you weren’t the type to dig them out anyway. Hardly seems fair that you’re the only one who gets to have secrets.”

“Wow, okay.” Sasha frowns at him.

“Sorry, I don’t—” Tim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “That wasn’t nice. I’m sorry.” He pauses. “Or at least, I’m sorry for how I said it. I think I meant it. Maybe not that harshly, but…”

“Sasha,” Jon Prime says quietly. “Take it from someone who’s been there. It will be a lot easier on you—on all of you—if you trust them with…whatever it is now.”

Sasha is about to say that he doesn’t have to be cagey when she realizes that he doesn’t know either. Her counterpart never told them, and then she was dead and it didn’t matter. Which means their Sasha took her secret to the grave. Something else occurs to her about that, and she can’t hold back a gasp at the sudden lance of pain, covering her mouth with her hand. Oh, God, that means…

“My uncle,” she half-whispers through her fingers. She closes her eyes for a minute, takes a shaky breath, then lowers her hand and tries to speak in a more normal tone. “My mother’s baby brother—he’s only about ten years older than I am. My parents died when I was six and he…he raised me. He taught me everything I know—especially about computers and, well, hacking and all that.” She takes a deep breath. “He’s in prison. Something to do with something he unearthed that he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t know all the details, he won’t tell me and I haven’t wanted to risk digging for them, but he’s been there since 2010. It’s why I came to London in the first place, and it’s why I live where I do—so I can be closer to him.”

“Sash.” Tim sounds shocked and sad. “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve always been like that, I suppose. Uncle Wade used to tease me about the way I would dig up secrets, he’d say I should have been named Harriet instead of Sasha. I never did anything with them, I just…liked having them, I guess. But I’ve also always been big on keeping them. It’s like…like it wasn’t a good secret if anyone but me knew it.” Sasha lets out a blow of frustration. “I can’t explain it, Tim. The only answer I can come up with is that I didn’t tell you because then it wouldn’t be a secret. And it’s stupid, and I know that. I should have told you all a long time ago and I’m sorry.” She bites her lip and looks over at the Primes, who both look stricken. “I…I’m guessing, um, Sasha Prime never told you that.”

“No,” Martin Prime says softly. “She never talked about her family. We never knew…” He trails off.

Which means Uncle Wade, in their time, probably never knew what happened to her, Sasha thinks miserably. She suspected as much before, but to have it confirmed…it’s painful. She presses her lips together for a moment, then looks at the others. “If anything happens to me—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Jon says sharply, a flash of panic in his eyes.

“But if it does—you’ll make sure he knows?” Sasha swallows. “Wade Copper. HMP Pentonville. Just…promise me that if something happens to me, one of you will tell him. Please.”

Tim swallows, but nods. “Cross my heart.”

Sasha relaxes. “Thank you.” She looks back to the Primes. “I’m sorry. I know I’m technically not the one who didn’t tell you, but…I kind of am? So I’m sorry I never told you, either. I—I don’t know if that would have made things better or worse.”

“Worse, probably,” Jon Prime says, a little distantly. “The Not-Them never went to visit him, or at least not on days when I was…well, stalking it, instead of Tim or Martin. But if I’d known…if I’d thought for a minute about…” He sighs. “There was a lot going on, and I’m afraid I didn’t give a lot of thought to who might need to be notified of our Sasha’s death.”

“Think Elias would have told him?” Tim asks. Sasha can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“I doubt it,” Jon Prime answers. He sounds bitter. “He probably got more delight out of the uncertainty and fear and anguish your uncle felt, not knowing why you’d suddenly stopped coming to visit, not understanding why no one would talk to him about—”

“Jon,” Martin Prime warns.

Jon Prime pulls up short. “Sorry.”

Sasha shakes her head, not sure what she’s denying. Maybe that he needs to apologize at all. She thinks she’s starting to get it. It’s probably not going to be uncommon for any of them to suddenly blurt out a truth that has the potential to hurt at least one other person in the room, because that’s what the Eye thrives on, is the fear of knowledge. The fear of secrets exposed.

“Is that why I’ve got that aspect of it?” she asks aloud, surprised by the direction her thoughts are trending.

“What?” Jon Prime frowns at her.

“The—you told us that you’ve got all sorts of…weird Archivist powers. You can compel people to tell you things and sense when people have statements for you and sometimes you just Know things without knowing how you know them, right?” Jon Prime nods cautiously, and Sasha continues. “I haven’t noticed me being able to compel anyone, I don’t think I can force people to tell me things or anything like that, but I-I think I’m developing the ability to just…Know things. Like about that Polaroid. I get this weird…fizzy feeling in my mind? Like it’s full of bubbles, or—”

“Or static?” Jon Prime supplies.

Sasha closes her eyes briefly. “God, how did I not think of that?”

“Probably because it never would have occurred to either of us that you might…that that might happen.” Jon Prime glances up at Martin Prime, then back at Sasha. “You’re right. If you’ve all been sharing the recording duties as well as the research duties…well, Jon is still the Archivist and still going to get the lion’s share, but I suspect the rest of you will at least develop something. Possibly not you, Tim, if you stop now.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Tim says, sounding reluctant. “I might not like it, but now that I know…I’m not going to leave my family to do this alone. I’ll help. Damn the consequences.”

Jon manages a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s the spirit.”

Sasha smiles, too, then turns to Martin. “What about you?”

Martin blinks, evidently surprised. “Me?”

Sasha gestures around them. “We’ve all been…acting like this. You’ve been acting like yourself, or more accurately like you did when we all started out in the Archives, when none of us knew you yet and you thought you had to prove you belonged here. I don’t need freaky Eye powers to know that you’re trying too hard. We put the burden of…everything on you, and none of us thought about how the way we were behaving might have affected you. So, it’s your turn. What do you need from us?”

Martin stares at her, then at the other two. Tim’s face is still ashen, Jon’s eyes still wide, but they’re both looking at Martin intently—like they can see something about him that Sasha can’t. Which they quite possibly can. Sasha may have been given the gift, or curse, of being able to ferret out secrets and hidden knowledge, but the friendship these three have developed, especially living in such close proximity to one another, has probably given them an understanding of one another that is beyond anything an entity of fear can see. His shoulders slump slightly, his protective posture eases back, and he actually smiles—it’s small, but it’s genuine.

“Actually,” he says, and while his voice shakes, it’s not as bad, “just you having asked means a lot.” He takes a shuddering, steadying breath. “I-it’s just, well, I don’t…do so well alone anymore? I-I mean, I’m trying, but…I don’t think I can actually…” He trails off and doesn’t finish.

“You’re not alone, Martin,” Jon says, his voice cracking slightly. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

All the tension seems to seep out of Martin in one rush, and his arms drop to his sides as he straightens, like a burden has just dropped off his back. Sasha isn’t sure who moves first, Tim or Jon, but they both reach Martin in almost the same instant and wrap him tightly in a hug. Martin hugs them back, his eyes squeezing shut, but Sasha sees the tear force its way out of the corner and the relief in his face. She realizes he’s been suffering these last few weeks and wonders—have any of them touched him, even briefly? Have any of them touched one another, or have they all been keeping separate and distant?

Whatever the case, Sasha decides that, just this once, she wants to be a part of it. She lets the torch fall heedlessly to the ground and crosses the floor to join the group hug. Someone’s hand curls around her arm, she’s not sure who, but she feels the warmth of her friends—her boys—soak into her body and wonders why she’s gone so long without this.

She raises her head briefly and looks in the direction of the Primes. She can just see them in the torch light glowing up from below; Jon Prime is watching them with a look of mingled warmth and longing. Giving in to impulse, she jerks her head to indicate that they should come closer.

And, for a wonder, he does. They both do, and suddenly there are more arms joining the pile and six people instead of four. Six broken, lonely pieces slotting together to make a single picture. Not quite complete. It may never be complete. But at least there aren’t any holes. Not anymore.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #paranoia cw #anger cw #arguments cw #implied past abuse and all that entails #prison mention

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holylulusworld · 4 years

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911 for love (7) – A close call

Summary: You are twenty-five, independent, smart and still a virgin. Annoyed by your friend's comments you want to get rid of the problem by calling a call-boy. Little did you know you will meet two things…love and handcuffs…

Pairing: Cop!Dean x Reader, Bobby Singer, Cole Trenton, Garth Fitzgerald, Michael, OFC's Parks & Miller

Warnings: angst, characters death, blood, caring Dean, language, mentions of sex, a hint of fingering, attempted murder, mentions of murder/knife play (non-sexual)

911 for love Masterlist

Two weeks later…

Face buried between your thighs Dean enjoys the noises he can press out of you. For the last two weeks, he made you scream his name more than you can count.

Here you are again, crying out as he didn’t stop after he came deep inside of you. Dean is determined to make you fall apart for a third time, using his thick fingers.

“Dean…” Hands finding purchase at his shoulders you try to make him stop but Dean is not budging as you push him away. “It’s…oh…god…”

Body trembling you fall back onto the pillow silently cursing your boyfriend's name.

“There she is, my lovely girl…” Smirking Dean looks up at you from between your legs, not sorry at all as you lie boneless on your bed. “Alright. Let’s talk about you moving into my house.”

“Can I catch my breath first, Dean?” Panting heavily, you watch Dean lie next to you, gently moving his fingers over your skin.

“You lost weight, Sweetheart. I want you to eat more…” Punching Dean’s arm you shake your head.

“I told you that I want to live healthier, Dean. We still can eat pizza once a week and ice cream but from now on we will eat salad too. Especially you will eat vegetables with your meat.”

Poking your finger into Dean’s arm you smirk as he flexes his muscle. “Don’t do that…”

“I hate to admit it, but I need to become fitter to make you cum even harder.” Now there’s a cocky grin on Dean’s face, telling you he has dirty things in mind.

“Dean…we barely know each other. I can’t move into your house after being your girlfriend for two weeks.” Dean doesn’t react for a moment before he covers your body with his tall frame, pecking your nose.

“You skip the whole ‘let’s get to know each other’ thing when you already know. All I can say is that I never felt more comfortable around a girl. I love everything about you, Sweetheart.” He does this tongue thing again and your resolve fades.

“You want me to move into your house?” Ludicrous you look up at Dean as he silently nods, smiling as you whimper every time he kisses your lips. “Okay…”

“Okay? AWESOME!” Jumping up Dean grabs his phone to call his brothers number. “Sammy, she said yes…” Dean exclaims, and you toss a pillow at your boyfriend he tells his brother you agreed to move into his house.

“Dean! I barely agreed and you tell your brother?” Dean doesn’t react as you get up to glare at him. He only gives you a dirty grin while his eyes roam your bare skin.

“I for sure enjoy the view, Sweetheart. How about we have a look at my house, and you can decide if you want to move in?” Now Dean’s eyes darken and you smell the trap.

“You only want to get me into your house to not let me go again.” Wetting his lips Dean nods, not ashamed at all.

“I told you that I will not leave your side ever again, Y/N. Let’s pack a few things an check my house out.” While you get dressed Dean tells Garth about your plans only to earn a scoff from Cole.

“Winchester, we can’t let her leave the apartment. We got no clue who the killer is and if he’s still after your girl. I will not risk my career only as you want to bang your chick in your house.” Cole snickers as Dean’s jaw squares.

“Your career? That’s all you think about?” Grabbing Cole’s shirt Dean presses his colleague into the wall, glaring at him as his fist wants to collide with Cole’s face.

“Dean, maybe he’s right. We can stay here and look at your house later.” You want to calm Dean but he won’t give in this time. Cole kept him away from you, and Dean won’t forgive him that easily.

“I can come with you too.” Garth offers as Cole struggles against Dean’s strength. “We can’t keep Ms. Y/L/N hostage in her apartment. She hasn’t left it for weeks.”

“Captain Singer said she has priority. We need to make sure nothing happens to her. You know he blames himself the last victim died as we observed another woman instead of her.”

“I know, Cole but…” Garth sighs as you give him a cracked smile.

“Dean, Garth. I hate to admit it but your colleague is right. We shouldn’t leave my apartment while that crazy guy is still out there.”

----

“You want what?” Bobby curses, pacing around your living room. “We can’t just bring her to your house, Dean. I love you like a son, but this goes too far.”

“Bobby, in my house, she will be safer than anywhere. You knew how dad was…” Glancing at his friend Dean silently pleads him to help him bring you to a safe place.

“John was the best in securing a house but even tho your house is safe, we still need to protect Y/N.” Bobby points toward Cole and Garth, sighing as Dean won’t give in.

“Let me at least show her my house and we can come back here in a few hours. I don’t think the killer will try to get close to my girl while I’m around.” Dean shows Bobby his hidden gun, smirking.

----

“How did you make Bobby agree?” Sliding your fingers over Dean’s thigh you lean your head against his shoulder as he drives toward his house.

“Bobby agreed as two officers will follow us the whole day. They will bring us home too. Don’t you worry. We will check my house and Miller and Parks will stay by our side.” Dean explains he knows both men for years.

“Are those men the same who were around the whole time?” Glancing at the house getting closer you smile as it looks like a home you can imagine raising your children in.

“No. Miller and Parks are new. One of the other officers called in sick, Langston, I think.” Scratching his chin Dean wonders why he knows Langston but not the guy helping him to get into your apartment. “Odd…”

----

“What?” While you follow Dean the two officers split. Miller is following you and Dean while Parks has a look around the house to make sure no one is sneaking around.

“You good, Dean?” Miller knows Dean for years so he can see something is bugging his colleague.

“I don’t know.” Shaking the thought away Dean takes your hand in his, leading you around the house to show you the living room. “I renovated it not months ago. The fireplace is new.”

“It’s beautiful.” Sliding your fingers over the fireplace you smile as Dean tells you he rebuilt it with his brother's help. “I like it…”

“Miller, we got an emergency call. Two colleagues need backup.” Parks runs into the house, panting. “There’s a 133 * going on, maybe a 134 * too, Dean. Can we leave you alone? We asked for back-up. Cole and Garth will be here in half an hour.”

“Go, get the bad guy. I will lock the door and have my gun close by. No reason to be worried.” Dean’s heart is racing but he doesn’t let it show. “Tell anyone my girl is safe in my house…”

“Got it, Dean. We see us later.” Parks and Miller rush out of the house to enter their patrol car.

----

“Cole, relax.” Garth glances out of the window as his colleague pushes the car to its limit. “Dean is a good cop, you know that.”

“Parks and Miller got lured away from his house. Now I can’t reach Dean. I don’t know how, but I’m afraid the killer did all this to get Y/N and Dean alone.” Garth’s throat is dry, letting Cole’s words sink in he tightens the grip at his gun.

“Cole, drive faster…I’ll call Bobby for back-up.”

----

“Officer?” Dean told you to not open the door or answer it but the officer protecting you over the last weeks, guarding your building stands at Dean’s front porch and you don’t know what to do.

“My name is Michael, just call me Michael. We know each other for weeks now.” The officer says and you tighten the grip on the door handle. You don’t know why but you got the feeling you shouldn’t open the door, so you step back, giving the officer a fake smile.

“I’m sorry but Dean locked the door and I’ve got no key. I better call him. He’s upstairs, Officer, I mean Michael.” The man smirks, loving his name leaving your lips and before you can blink he gets his gun out to fire at the lock.

Shrieking you take a step backward, panting as you hear a heavy boot kick the door open. “You seem so lonely, Sweetheart…” Michael snickers and you shudder as he abuses the nickname Dean used lovingly.

“Michael, I’m not lonely. Dean is here…” You take another step backward as Michael steps inside, putting his gun away to look you all over.

“I don’t think so, Y/N. I saw him drive away; his car is gone. We’ve got time…” Smiling Michael gets his favorite knife out, the one he uses to carves his name into his victims while they are still alive. “I will finally enjoy you…”

“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill all these women?” Voice trembling you walk backward till you stop in your tracks, locking eyes with Michael.

“My mother…” Head tilted Michael smirks. “Was a great woman. Did you think she was a monster? No. I’m not some stereotype serial killer.”

He steps closer again, a cold smile on his lips. “I just like hearing a woman beg for her life. All these lonely, horny and desperate women, calling a call boy to not feel lonely…perfect victims…”

Snickering Michael looks at you, still this smile on his lips. “Being lonely is not a crime, asshole.”

“All of them let me into their apartments, stripped for me, even let me handcuff them. Kinky sluts for sure. Now let me see how well you will sing my song…” Michael smirks as he wants to step closer but then he gasps before he falls to his knees.

The sound of a bullet ending his life echoes through the house as Dean steps out of his hideout.

“You okay, Baby Girl?” Nodding you rush to Dean’s side, not looking at the dead man on his floor. “I’m sorry I had to ask you to do this, but we had to be sure.” Slinging an arm around your shoulders Dean leads you out of his house, kissing your hair softly.

----

“How did you know?” Bobby asks while the paramedics check on you.

“I knew all Officers by name, only that guy being so nice to help me get into Y/N’s apartment was an unknown face to me. When Parks and Miller got lured away from my house I was sure someone must’ve known they would be with me.”

Dragging his hand down his face Bobby silently curses. “This is a disaster, Dean. One of us was a killer. No one will ever trust us again…”

“Bobby, honestly I can’t think about the consequences of Michael’s crimes right now. I will fill my report, bring my girl home and make sure she’s alright.” Dean walks toward the ambulance, smiling as you hold tight onto his jacket.

“Do we know why Michael helped Dean to get into her apartment?” Cole watching Dean gently stroke your hair. “This doesn’t make sense to me.”

“I guess, he thought Dean would bring her away from you, Garth and the other officers. With only Dean around, he had a chance to get close to Y/N.” Bobby hands Cole a file, showing pictures of you and Dean at the door of your friends, in the Impala and outside your apartment complex.

“Shit. How could we not see this coming?” While Dean leads you toward his car Cole looks at the pictures again.

“I don’t think anyone would’ve thought the killer could be one of us. Now let’s clean this shit and tell anyone we got the bad guy.”

* 133 = Possibly dangerous person * 134 = Kidnapping

911 for love Tags

@bmrobichaud, @waywardrose13, @delicatefirespyplaid

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana31, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @voltage-my2dlove, @fandom-princess-forevermore @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @spnhollis, @void-imaginations, @jay-and-dean, @shatteredabby, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @neii3n, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice, @stuckys-whore, @shadowkat-83 @officialmarvelwhore, @wecantgiggleitsafandom, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @miraclesoflove, @yolobloggers, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @straycuties9, @kayla-2000, @ilovefanfic86, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @sadn0va, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @linki-locks11, @geekofmanyforms, @eggingamazinglove, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @atomicfandombomb, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @exo-nova, @laxe-from-outer-space, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @fandom-imagines1, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @sea040561, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @differentstudentrunawaysposts, @hhiggs, @deepmuffinspymaker, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @cassiopeia-barrow, @mep6811, @jo-like-josette, @supernaturalenchanted, @mscarter213, @trumpettay

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter, @dreaminemz, @negans-lucille-tblr, @akshi8278, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @multisuperfandom, @deansgirl-1968, @justanotherwinchester, @jadesupernatural, @squirrelnotsam, @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo, @roonyxx, @jason-todd-squad, @thevelvetseries, @spnsuper17, @adoptdontshoppets, @woodworthti666, @frederikkeborup, @psychicforest, @luciathewinchestergirl, @michellemxndes, @addictedtofictionalcharacters, @gabifernandessn, @magssteenkamp

#spn #spn fanfiction #angst #dean winchester #911 for love Masterlist #Cop!Dean #cop!dean x reader #cop!dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester series #characters death #ligth smut

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singeramg · 4 years

Text

Midnight: Chapter 2

A/n: Hey everyone! Here is part 2 of the story. I think this is going to have a slow build as I want to make sure this goes correctly. Personally i’m excited for where I see this going!

Pairing: Clark Kent / OFC

Rating: M (Story is M, this chapter however is not)

Warnings; None really really just more exposition but there is a good point.

Here is part 1 if you missed it.

Midnight: Chapter 2

I felt Kyle running into my room before he actually came in, giving me time to prepare for the impact as he jumped on me, still managing to take my breath away with his natural density.

“Momma! It’s morning and you here!”

I smiled at him kissing his cheek, watching as his eyes changed from the natural blue they were, to brown like mine.

My son was special, it was the reason I worked odd and late jobs. He couldn’t go to regular daycare because he wasn’t in control of his powers yet.

He was born with various abilities due to his parentage, of course he was stronger than the average three year old being that he had the strength of a 12 year old. He often told me noises bothered him, which led me to believe he was developing his super hearing, but the big power was his ability to change his appearance. It was mostly just the small features for now, and it was mostly unconscious on his part. For example, he would change his eyes to match mine, and throughout the day they would change, and he also liked to play with his hair. Naturally it was black like Clarks’ but his hair had curls. Often times I would come in and my son would have long hair or it would be blonde or brown. Sometimes even Blue!

And honestly he looked like Clark with a tan. Needless to say I had to keep him home until he could gain some control. I didn’t want to have to move... again.

Ms. A was the only one that knew about Kyle’s abilities. When she asked I told her, that his father was an old boyfriend who had nothing to do with him and that I thought he must have had some metahuman blood that he never told me about.

She had no clue I was also now a Metahuman.

Kyle flopped off of me and onto my bed, still in his race car pjs and messy bed hair. He hadn’t changed that yet and I was glad to see it.

“Good morning Kalen, what has mommy told you about jumping on her?”

He giggles and says

“I have to be careful because mommy might get hurt. I don’t think I could hurt you mommy. I love you too much.”

He turned the puppy dog eyes on me in an attempt to not get in trouble for something he knew better than to do.

“Yeah sure young man. You know better that’s why you are trying me with that face. Did you brush your teeth and wash your face?”

He shook his head no.

“Alright, well what are waiting for? No breakfast for my little monster until you do.”

He laughed and took off for the bathroom. I swore he got faster everyday.

‘Kyle’ was his name to the public but his real name was in direct tribute to his father, his name being Kalen Joseph (pronounced Colin) having the name Kal being spelled in his name and Joseph from Clarks actual middle name. I got out my bed, changing quickly into some jean shorts and a tank and going into the bathroom with my son, finding him about to get his toothpaste all over the sink. I took it from him and put a little on the toothbrush and let him take over, brushing my teeth and once I finished he followed me into the living room. I waved my hand, lazily at the TV, turning it on. I was about to change the channel when the reporter began to talk about the rescue I had pulled off last night.

“In other news, last night, a local woman, described her rescuer as her ‘guardian angel’. The local police describe the scene as confusing but thankfully non-fatal. A vigilante stopped a rather vicious robbery and assault, taking down three attackers and leaving them unconscious for the police. While the police are grateful for the intervention they have questions for this person, and ask if anyone has any information on this masked vigilante then please reach out to crime-stoppers tip line”

The reporter says the number as a shadowy, low quality security camera shot of me appears on screen. I was comforted in that I knew no one would know me. I waved my hand again, changing the television to some random cartoons and proceeded to make some breakfast for us both.

*Later*

I dressed Kalen in a pair of jeans, sneakers and a cute red t-shirt, along with a small hat. The hat served as a dual purpose for if he decided to change his hair on me in public. I grabbed my purse and his little tablet that he could use in the shopping cart to keep him occupied.

Once in the store, I pulled out my list and Ms. Alphonse’s list. Chuckling at her circled selection of Twizzlers and jellybeans. The woman lived her life on sweets, I would swear it. I strolled through the store, adding things to my cart, when Kalen started crying.

“Momma it loud.”

I watched as his eyes flickered in various colors and he held his hands to his ears. The lights began to flicker in the store followed by a loud boom.

The store shook as people began yelling and screaming. I yanked Kalen from the cart into my arms, looking for the safest place for us to be. I couldn’t use my powers in public, at least not without my mask and I couldn’t form my suit without exposing myself. I wouldn’t risk my child. I ran for the exit, not caring if I was slightly faster than the rest. Pieces of the ceiling falling as the ground still trembled. I ran into the employee only section of the store, moving until we left out the back door. Kalen was still holding his ears as I crushed him to my chest. I looked up seeing some flying creatures, destroying people, literally feeding on them. I turned away, shielding my son and ducked into a nearby building. The old building had long since been abandoned. No energy source inside of it, I stopped in a back corner, far away from the windows.

I rocked Kalen in my arms, doing my best to send him calming energy, but all the stimulation wasn’t helping. Sitting on the floor, I brushed his curls back soothing him. I was working until I heard crashing into the doors, this just caused him to cry more. I focused and changed into battle wear, just as the door flew open and the creatures came in. I sat Kalen on the floor and tossed up a force field around him.

The creatures took me in my protective stance as a challenge and the all came at me. I focused on getting them off of me. Their eyes were red and they could fly, all of them looking to take me out. I fought them as long as I could and once again the hits had built up enough kinetic energy to blast them through the front door. I followed them out, forming a blade of energy that I held like a sword. Slicing and dicing all of these demonic creatures, until suddenly they looked toward the sky, disappearing as quickly as it seemed they had come.

I cancelled my sword once I ascertained the danger was gone. I wasted no time going back into the building to my child who was whimpering behind the shield I put up. I changed my appearance again, back to what he was familiar with, letting the field down, he wasted no time running into my arms, sobbing, his little hands grabbing at my skin and holding on tightly.

“Come on baby, let’s go home.”

*Home*

I shielded Kalen’s eyes the entire way home, until I felt him relax against my shoulder, his breathing evening out. Once inside the building I stopped at Ms. Alphonse’s apartment, knocking and she opened the door quickly, pulling us into a hug. I looked behind her, as I hugged her back one handed. The news displayed the attack as breaking news also connecting it to similar attacks in Gotham and other neighboring cities.

“I was so worried about you two. The store was dead center of where the attack was.”

I came inside, pushing the door closed, and sitting Kyle down on the reddish brown couch. Carefully not to wake him up, I let him go and sat down next to him. Letting my relief coming through in a sigh, my body sagging into her couch.

“I was terrified. We hid from those things until they left.”

“I am just glad you are okay.”

She goes into the kitchen, I hear her rattling around, making coffee. The news channel changed gears, still covering the attack but this time grainy video appears on the screen. I quickly make note that it’s me fighting in disguise. Thankfully, it cuts off mid-fight, the camera seemingly destroyed. The anchors all asking

“Who is this woman?”

I dropped my head in my hands, frustrated and scared that I would have to leave. Ms. Alphonse came around the corner, handing me a cup of tea.

“Kyle looks like he’s out for the night.”

“It was a lot for him. The creatures were attacking, and with him being sensitive to sounds and stimulation. He was terrified. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to protect him.”

“I think you did everything you possibly could to get him home safe.”

Ms. Alphonse and I talked for awhile, watching the news coverage, before I gathered up Kalen and took him home. I tucked him into his own bed with a kiss to the forehead and a partially closed door, I managed a hot shower and some wound care from the various scrapes and cuts I took from fighting. Just as I finished, I felt someone approaching my apartment. My defenses raised as they knocked, an invisible barrier that only I could pass through went up. I looked through the peephole, surprised to see who was on the other side. Just knowing my eyes were deceiving me I opened the door and asked.

“What in the hell is Bruce Wayne doing at my front door?”

A/n: As always I appreciate any support this gets. i love seeing likes, reblogs and comments. Makes my day honestly. Hell, maybe I will post the next chapter tonight???

#Clark Kent xOFC #henry cavill x black ofc #Black! OFC #clark kent #DCFilms #fanfiction #henry cavill #SUPERMAN X OFC #superman

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diyunho · 5 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Secrets” Part 3

The Joker did something so unforgivable and despicable you don’t ever want to see him again. After months of avoiding The King of Gotham, you really can’t understand why he appointed you as the only person to take care of his son in case of emergency. There’s no way you’ll accept to help the little boy in his father’s absence, yet the three years old has no fault in what happened between you and your ex.

Frost just called with a security report for The Joker: most of the henchmen in the building are dead; five missing for the moment and his best guess is that they are the ones who sold his boss out and allowed Ezra to get inside the Penthouse. Maybe even helped the New York gang kill the others; no way to know for sure until watching the footage from all the cameras scattered around the premises.

You and J barely convinced Alexis to go back to sleep after he was given a bath: the three years old was very agitated and scared, which is understandable after what happened just a couple of hours ago. The fact that he’s sick didn’t help either: his fever increased and you had to put in extra effort in order to convince him to swallow his medicine.

“Can y-you take him to Los Angeles for a few days until I clean up the m-mess here?” The Joker asks, struggling to wrap new bandages around the surgical marks on his right leg. The soft fabric of the sweat pants keep on sliding down his foot and J lifts it up again, frustrated he can’t manage to keep it in place.

“Yes, no problem,” you agree and check your cell, waiting for your father to call.

Jase didn’t answer his phone and Y/N left a short message urging him to get a hold of her as soon as possible. You really don’t know how you’ll explain what you did: invoking the code in order to offer protection to another clan is a serious matter and The Godfather won’t be happy to hear that J has LA’s alliance now.

Not after everything The Clown Prince of Crime did.

“For God’s sake,” you sigh and decide to be the bigger person, kneeling in front of an irritated Joker that just can’t get the gauze around his scars. “Hold this,” you frown and he grabs one end of the roll while you cover his skin with the dressing. “It seems healed,” you point out, continuing to patch him up.

“The doctor told m-me to do it for one more month. Nothing that can be d-done about the way I talk; I hope it goes a-away,” J shares extra information you don’t care to hear. “A-are you sure you don’t mind t-taking my son?” the question makes you yank at the bandages and the change in mood is evident.

“I don’t mind,” you respond through your clenched teeth. “What I do mind though is being lied to. What I do mind is you being secretly married to another woman. What I do mind is you pretending you liked me,” you pause for a second to breathe in much needed air. “What I do mind is you convincing me that we should have a baby when I didn’t want one. What I do mind is you saying that if it’s a boy we should name him Alexis when you already had a son named Alexis with your wife!!!” you raise your voice, incapable of stopping the tirade.

“So?” The Joker bitterly replies, in a very foul disposition himself.

You slap J and he instinctively closes his eyes before the second strike lands on his already numb cheek.

“A-are you done?” he growls, barely restraining the urge to escalate the fight that just started.

You glare at him without blinking, enraged by the indifference of his hurtful actions. So many thoughts rushing through your head and you don’t have a chance to tell The Joker everything you want because your phone suddenly rings. You take it out of the pocket, correctly guessing your father is calling back.

“Do this yourself!” you hiss and undo the bandages wrapped around J’s scars, getting up in a hurry.

“W-what the fuck, Y/N?!”

You don’t even pay attention to his tantrum since reporting to the Godfather is more important than listening to your former boyfriend’s complaint.

“When Alexis wakes up, I’m gone! I don’t want to spend one extra single minute in your presence!” you shout and rush towards the terrace, pressing the screen of your cell. “Hi daddy,” you soften your tone and step outside, slamming the glass door behind you.

J forcefully exhales, staring at the gauze loosely hanging down his foot.

“Goddammit,” he grumbles and bites his lower lip, not excited on how the conversation ended.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been a jerk for once?...

Definitely.

Not after what you did for him and his son.

The woman J used in such a despicable manner didn’t think twice about saving a child that’s not hers; LA’s future queen didn’t even hesitate to save the man that made a fool out of her and didn’t deserve any kind of help no matter the circumstances.

The Joker shouldn’t have been a jerk…

Not today.

*************

Three days afterwards

“Sir, The Godfather is here,” Frost announces on intercom to a less than pleased King of Gotham.

“…Great…” J talks in a low voice, dreading the imminent meeting he was expecting anyway. “Let him pass,” the consent is given even if Jase doesn’t need it: the mobster is already in the elevator, going up to a Penthouse he hates infinitely more since The Joker’s secret was discovered.

Your father stomps out the elevator, immediately noticing the green haired Clown Prince of Crime sitting down on the couch closest to the center of the living room. The Joker wants to get up but Jase cuts him off:

“Sit down and don’t insult me with more fake respect!”

J smirks and The Godfather is already fed up with person he always despised and barely tolerated because of his daughter’s request.

“I heard we have a situation,” Jase grumbles and halts in front of The Joker, his menacing demeanor warning of a disastrous outcome in case things go wrong.

“You c-can say that,” the vague answer makes your parent lose his temper:

“YOU WILL DO NOTHING! You won’t seek revenge, you won’t move a finger until our year of forced partnership is done!! Gotham is under LA’s protection for 12 months and there’s nothing that can be done!”

“A-apparently,” The Joker’s insolent remark prompts so much outrage it’s nearly impossible to suppress the damage:

“You insolent prick! You were learning how to crawl when I was already building my empire! Do you think I’m intimidated by the likes of you?! I AM THE GODFATHER!!!” Jase shouts while J puckers his lips, aware he shouldn’t push it yet he can’t shut up:

“And I’m The Joker! I w-won’t let anyone…”

“You’re The Joker?!” your father interrupts. “Do you know you would be dead right now if it wasn’t for Y/N?! Why do you think I didn’t come for you when I found out what you did, hm? Do you think I just turned a blind eye to your affront? ME??!! NEVER!! I wanted to do exactly what Ezra did and my daughter begged me not to!!! You’re still here breathing because of Y/N! Do you understand?!!”

The two men hatefully stare at each other, none of them willing to lose any ground despite the sticky crisis they landed in. J is fuming and your parent is far past enraged: he’s furious to the point of sharing something personal to prove his affirmations.

“I never understood what my daughter saw in you, Joker!” Jase snarls. “I had such a bad feeling about your relationship and I’m never wrong about that stuff!”

“Then y-you should have t-told her!” The Clown bites back since this is the perfect opportunity to retaliate.

“I DID!” your father screams. “But Y/N insisted she loves you and I had to stomach your company because if she was happy, then I guess I had to accept it! And for what?! For you to break her heart again after it took her forever to recover from what happened with Sean?!”

The Joker surely wishes to lash out but the last sentence catches him by surprise: why would The Godfather mention Sean? The insane events that occurred a few years ago are sort of common knowledge in the underworld: Sean was your boyfriend until it was discovered he was actually an undercover CIA agent.

“I failed my daughter,” your father’s firm tone diminishes while confessing to the ugly truth. “Sean passed all the background checks; there was nothing suspicious about him. Believe me when I tell you I was very thorough: I wouldn’t just let anyone come so close to her. And when I found out by accident…” Jase deeply inhales, flustered, “…it was goddamned late, 10 days after he proposed.”

J’s eyes get big at the revelation: he had no idea about this part of the story and for once he keeps quiet and listens, intrigued.

“I went over to their house with my crew and dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night. Y/N was very agitated, not comprehending what was going on until I told her and showed the evidence. I’ll never forget the look on her face: she seemed so lost staring at those papers and pictures certifying that Sean was Matt Simmons, CIA agent infiltrating our lives in order to bring me down. He didn’t care about her; she was just an assignment…”

The Joker wants to finally reply, yet The Godfather won’t allow interference:

“He knew what was in store for him and he kept on begging, promising he was truly in love with her and stating he didn’t report to his superiors in a while and had no intention in doing so. Who knows?... Maybe he did love her after all…,” Jase straightens his shoulders. “I doubt Y/N heard any of his vows; she was too shocked to process the gravity of the news. I should have been more vigilant, but I didn’t see it coming: she yanked the gun out of my hand and shot him in the head. I think she regretted her choice the moment she pulled the trigger, but it was already too late…” your father mutters.

The Joker weights in all this information thrown at him since he had no clue you were the one that killed your ex: everyone assumed it must have been your father.

“Do you know how hard it is to watch your only child die a little bit more each day? I‘m not talking about death in the real sense of the word, but about the worst kind of demise: when you lose someone you loved so much that nothing else matters. And then you came along,” Jase shrieks getting to the conclusion he was aiming for since the beginning of the dialogue: “And you were infinitely more appalling than Sean: at least he was doing his job, while you were nothing but a greedy, manipulative asshole!”

The King of Gotham is so aggravated by The Godfather’s comments his heart is pounding out of his chest.

“Y-you can’t t-talk to me like this!!” he stands up to confront Jase but your parent is immune to the Clown’s threat.

“I can and I will!!” he yells. “That’s why you will do nothing! Got it?! Stay put! In the meantime, be grateful Y/N is such a saint offering safe haven to a little boy that’s not hers! If you think tending to Alexis is a piece of cake, THINK AGAIN!!!!!!” Jase lectures a stunned Joker to the point of starting a physical altercation, but he manages to contain himself and walks away towards the elevator, mumbling: “Son of a bitch!”

The Joker is left in the middle of the living room, completely stupefied at your father’s rant: it’s tough for him to grasp the notion of not being invincible or untouchable. And he is aware why Ezra came after him: because The King of Gotham did to his daughter the same thing that was done to you. J used her also in order to acquire what he wanted since his wife didn’t mind the little indiscretions as long as they were able to get richer, more powerful and influential. And now Nessa was lying 6 feet under after he barely escaped the ambush that almost claimed his life too.

Once his secret was out, everything came crashing down so fast he didn’t have time to process what it all meant: when you claw your way up without any remorse, you might end up bleeding worse than the ones you tear apart.

************

2 weeks later

Nixon is guiding The Joker around the patio, the final destination only a few feet away: he’s here to pick up his son and the bodyguard thought you’re still outdoors, yet there’s no sign of you or Alexis. Only Harvey Dent relaxing on the cozy sofa under the umbrella shadowing the guest from the late afternoon sunlight.

“Hm,” Nixon halts. “She was here a few minutes ago; I’ll go search for her. Please take a seat Mister Joker,” the man offers and J nonchalantly limps towards the ottoman opposite Two Face, sneering.

“Dent…”

Harvey taps his fingers on the mixed drink he’s holding, already annoyed by the green haired visitor.

“Joker…” he acknowledges the unwanted presence.

They watch in silence as the goon disappears inside the house before Dent inquires:

“Are you here to get your kid?”

“U-hum,” J admits. “You?”

“Visiting.”

The Joker tugs at his longer than usual locks gathered in a ponytail while bending over to grab a bottle of water from the table. A gust of wind blows a few shorter strands right on his face and he brushes them off, huffing.

“Y/N went to put your little boy to sleep; I guess he needed a nap,” Harvey communicates in such a sour manner it instantly irks J. “Some people wouldn’t recognize a good thing happening to their miserable existence even if they had it written black on white.”

The Clown grinds his teeth, vexed:

“You have s-something to say to me, D-Dent?!”

“Oh,” and the scarred ex-politician pauses before gulping down his cocktail,”I have plenty to say to you!”

The clash is inevitable but actually terminated before it blows out of proportions since you are coming out of the mansion.

J stands up and greets a displeased Y/N that was expecting him tomorrow morning, not that it really makes a difference: her world is turned upside down every time she sees him anyway.

“Alexis just fell asleep and I don’t want to wake him up,” you ignore his false politeness and march towards the two individuals postponing their brawl. “He often has nightmares after what happened with Ezra and it’s best to let him rest.”

“C-can I sleep here t-tonight then and we’ll take off in the m-morning?”

You are not a huge fan of the idea, yet you consent for the sake of the three year old that you took under your wing when you didn’t have to.

“OK. You can sleep in his room, there’s an extra bed in there. You can order food, one of my curriers can go pick it up for you. Or you can eat whatever you want from the fridge,” you extend your hospitality and bite in the same time: “I’m sure you remember where stuff is; nothing has changed except…everything.”

The Joker doesn’t reply and Harvey can’t help but realize how much you struggle to keep it together; he wonders if J realized also or if he even gives a damn. Probably not.

“Y/N,” Harvey intervenes. “When you have a moment, could we please work on my transaction?” he elegantly gets you out of the unpleasant meeting using the main reason he’s there for.

You momentarily snap out of it, grateful to oblige.

“Of course. Yes,” you add and escort him through the glass panels leading towards the stairs that will take Dent to the second floor where your bedroom is.

J is left alone, not that he doesn’t enjoy the solitude. He’s indeed debating on what he should have for dinner, maybe dishes he can share with his son after he wakes up from his nap. The Joker wishes to talk to you and he speculates you won’t want to listen to anything he has to say. Why bother?

He lost that privilege a long time ago.

*************

“How much would you like to invest?” you get on your laptop while Harvey is stretching on the leather sectional in front of the TV.

“Same as always, please.”

“Alright, it will take me a few seconds for the wire transfers between accounts,” you type in a frenzy and almost ignore his honest concern:

“Are you ok?”

“Huh?” you lift your head higher while glued to the screen: you crave the welcomed distraction so badly nothing else counts.

“Are you ok?” he repeats and the evasive response heightens his uneasiness regarding the apparent calm Y/N.

“I’m perfect, no worries,” you crack a smile and glance his way.

Dent scratches his scar, disputing on his next sentences.

“I’m asking because…e-hem…because you used to have this sparkle in your eyes and now it’s gone,” he blurs out before he loses confidence in his speech. “I know it’s not my place to comment, but I thought you should know someone noticed…”

Your hands stop on the keyboard and fighting the tears back is somehow so much harder than wearing the mask you parade with in front of everybody, including your father.

“You want to know how I noticed?” he pushes it more, hoping you will understand he’s well intended. “After Rachel died, I see the same emptiness daily when I look in the mirror. It might not be the same situation…”

“Harvey!!” you cut him off and he suddenly registers he’s out of line.

You sniffle and wipe the tears rolling down your cheeks, the bottled up emotions too strong to control.

“I’m very sorry,” he scoots over, upset he made you cry.

You start sobbing and Dent feels so bad he instantaneously curses his stupid decision.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut,” and he’s relieved when you grab his hand and squeeze it.

��Thank you,” you faintly articulate and Harvey offers the box of tissue from the coffee table with his free hand, still uneasy about your present condition. “You’re a good man,” you whisper and he shakes his head, regretfully informing:

“Used to be, honey. Used to be…”

You let go of his fingers and he softly caresses your shoulders since he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Yyyy/Nnnnn,” Alexis pushes the cracked door opened. “Ynnn/Nnnn,” he whines and you jump from your spot eager to lift him up in your arms.

“What is it sweetheart? Another bad dream?” you inquire and the little one rubs his eyes, pouting.

“Whe’s mommy?” he buries his face in your neck, comforted by the woman’s embrace.

“Your mommy’s very far away,” you signal Harvey to sit down since he’s preparing to flee. “I’ll return soon,” you wink and exit your bedroom in order to take the three year old back to his chamber.

“Whe’s daddy?” Alexis yawns and you gather the strength to be cheerful for an innocent child’s sake.

“Daddy will be here when you wake up,” you kiss his temple. “After your nap you can play in the backyard, then we’ll have dinner and you can watch cartoons, ok?”

“U-hum,” he agrees and you lay him in bed, covering him up with the soft blanket.

“Do you want your giraffe?” you push the toy on his pillow and he snatches it, sulking.

“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” Y/N soothes The Joker’s son the best way she can, reckoning if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t be alive right now. And that makes her sadder.

The young boy got under her skin and even if he reminds her of his father’s deceit, she wouldn’t have it any other way; keeping Alexis close is a way to make sure she always stays alert:

When you give your heart away and it’s returned to you in pieces, a few will go missing each time it happens until there’s nothing left.

************

Two hours afterwards

J is walking towards your master bedroom, angered he left his cane on the patio: his leg is hurting and the limp only makes it worse. Ten minutes ago he received a text with new information that you and The Godfather will be interested in also: it might not change the situation as a whole, but the plot twist could ensure he takes full advantage of the forced alliance between LA and Gotham. That’s what The Joker does anyway: he exploits every tiny thing to his advantage and the fresh data is certainly no petty scrap.

The door to your room is still opened simply because when you have Alexis over you want him to have easy access to your quarters, most likely to snuggle under the covers with the nice lady that’s taking care of him.

J pries the door open and wants to call out your name when the sight compiles the opposite: you dozed off cuddled up to Harvey, both covered with his suits’ jacket. After you invited him to stay and watch a movie you passed out first and he didn’t dare wiggle; he just used his coat to ensure you’re not going to get cold with the AC blasting from the ceiling. Having Y/N near him felt genuinely peaceful and Dent snoozed without a care in the universe for the first time in years.

And even someone like The King of Gotham can’t help but discern the vague smile on Harvey’s lips: the smile of a man that’s been through hell and he’s finally granted a small piece of heaven.

Part 1: diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/177920419051/the-joker-x-reader-secrets-part-1

Part 2: diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/178630090876/the-joker-x-reader-secrets-part-2

Also read: Masterlist

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker suicide squad #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker jared leto #harvey dent #dcu #mister j #mister #Mistah J #Mr.J

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kyle-valenti · 5 years

Text

As the Sun Sets, the Moon Rises (1/?)

ao3

the valenti’s have two sons after 1997

michael is taken in by a guitly Jim and raised along side Kyle, who thought he wanted a brother until he had one.

1997

Quiet starry nights like this, Jim Valenti didn’t mind highway patrol. Crime had been lazy today, the paperwork on his desk was looming, and he wasn’t quite ready for home. The morning had started off simple but he was still bone tired from the night before and innocently enough he had mistakenly used dish soap in the dishwasher and not detergent, infesting the kitchen with mountains and mountains of bubbles before he heard his son Kyle’s squeals of delight. By the time he rushed out, Michelle had seen, and then arguments of his lack of expertise on household chores quickly let into deeper fights over Ortecho women and his need for NA meetings in hushed but angry tones in the bedroom. The smile on Kyle’s face and hug before he left for work, like he had made the entire accident all just for him, made everything worth it.

All in all, the indigo sky blanketing itself over the Roswell desert is good for calming his thoughts.

Usually more so than tonight when he almost runs over three naked children wandering in the middle of the road about twenty five miles out of town. All but stripping his brakes with how fast he stops, he throws his car door open and runs over to them before he can even tell how scary he must seem. The three of them clumsily step back in sync, huddled as he pauses and stops and kneels on his feet.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he urges them, emotion rising straight to the surface at the idea of the trio who looked no older than his second grader Kyle in such distress. “It’s okay. What happened? Are you hurt?”

They stare at him mutely, so he tries again. “Estás a salvo ahora. ¿estás herido? ¿qué te ha pasado?”

Again, nothing, and even though everything in him wanted to lunge forward and pull them into a hug, the police side of his brain was starting to send blaring red signals. Something wasn’t right about them, and not just the obvious fact that they were naked children covered in sand in the cold of the desert night with nothing in sight around them for miles.

“I’m going to get you blankets,” he tells them, hoping that he’s right not to tell them to run. In his experience as sheriff, that only heightened the flight risk. “Déjame conseguirte mantas.”

When he looks back through the window of his car they’ve all stayed put, and he pops the trunk to fumble for emergency blankets, only finding two adult sizes. Jim walks back around to find them eerily still standing stock-still, and he isn’t sure if the blankets will be accepted when he holds them out to the children; but the tallest boy with brown hair grabs the offering and pulls the blankets around each of the other children who quietly comply without moving. Well, other than the small blonde girl who pulls the tallest boy under the blanket with her, but once they’re done they stop and stare right back up at Jim.

For seven year olds, they don’t make any sense. Maybe somewhere normal that would confuse someone, but in Roswell it simply terrified him. Kids. They were only kids. How? All aliens had been relocated and supposedly found over 50 years ago. None of the science he had overviewed had shown this was a possibility but from the way he could see the way they quickly communicated to each other with looks alone…

“If you want food, water, and a bed, you’ll have to get in my car,” he tells them shakily, watching them glance at each other for a long duration. Jim felt the hair on his skin stand and his heartbeat spike as the girl turns to watch him with an intense look while the boys watched her and not Jim.

He’s not sure what she finds, or if she finds anything, or if she’s even capable of looking, but she ends up nodding. The boys flank her into the car, the three of them finally showing some semblance of humanity as they fumble with the large blankets as they move across the blacktop and then try and scoot into the backseat of an uncomfortable patrol car. They manage, but as Jim then goes to sit in the driver’s he isn’t sure if he can. Jesse Manes would want a call as soon as Jim reached the nearest booth or landline if he didn’t want the kids to be driven to Caulfield immediately in the first place. Except as Jim slowly slips into the front seat of his car and closes the door, he thinks of Kyle’s gleeful wonder at nothing more than bubbles and can’t stop his urgent conscience of, they’re children. They’re children.

While his voice still shakes on the radio, he informs the office and drives into town, making his decision.

Deputy Scott Evans is back at the station waiting with a bag of brand new children’s clothes and an out of breath wife who all but leaps toward the children to fix the clothing situation. While the children had been hesitant with him, they were markedly less so with Anne Evans, and they follow her into the other room as she hushes them along.

“I sent you that radio only thirty minutes ago, Evans.” Jim says, almost wanting to chuckle but the mood was far from right. “How the hell did your wife already get here?”

“She runs that children’s support drive. Clothes were already in a stockpile in our garage for the event,” Scott shrugs in return, before turning serious. “So you just found them? Nothing around, nothing…?”

“No,” Jim answers. “We’ll take a ride out there tomorrow you and I and search the area, but you know how it is with the border. Traffickers get past El Paso, move onto Carlsbad, and then it’s a gamble where the kids get dropped off.”

Scott nods, looking off down the hallway, only glancing at Jim out of the corner of his eye. “You know we’ll watch them in the meantime. But between you and I… if it takes more than twenty-four hours to see if they have parents I don’t think Anne will let them leave.”

When Anne comes back out with the children they are clothed, even if still coated in sand, and she has a frown on her face as she walks over to Jim and holds out a notepad. Jim took it and felt his stomach drop as he sees the symbol.

“This one,” she says with a frown to the curly haired boy. “Got dressed at lightning speed and then found a pen just to write that over and over. It’s on the walls too before I could stop him.”

“I’ll look into what it means,” he says vaguely. “Look, three kids all at once might be too much. Let me take this one in case he has more clues. Kyle will love the company.”

The Evans’ look at him with surprise, but before Anne can say anything Scott nods in agreement. Turning to the children, who seem to have understood completely as they’re now hiding the curly haired boy behind him, he tries to explain while hoping that Scott hadn’t gotten any better at his white-man Spanglish.

“Escúchame. Serás cazado si no tienes cuidado, así que para estar seguro necesitas estar separado ahora, ¿entiendes?”

The girl narrows her eyes at him with intention again, but then her bottom lip quivers and she looks at the boys while nodding.

“So they speak Spanish?” Scott asks, but Jim calculates a vague shrug. “They haven’t spoken at all, I think they’re still in shock. Seem to understand both though. Just wanted to let them know everything will be okay”

And it would be, if he could help it.

×××××××××××××××

“Swallow your blood!” Eight year old Kyle yells at Michael, who had just hit the pavement headfirst after a bike trick gone wrong. “You need that!”

“Shut up!” Michael yells back awkwardly through a nosebleed, still angry that the trick hadn’t worked and even more angry that after this is over Kyle’s going to tease him for ages. He still swallows the blood though. While he isn’t convinced humans can die from a broken nose, he isn’t sure . The warm copper taste of the blood is making him nauseated and the pain is becoming even worse. If only he had been hanging out with Max. “Go get mom.”

Kyle frowns, looking hesitant at the idea of getting in trouble, but when Michael throws the rock that his bike had hit in his direction, he ran off to get her. After Kyle’s been gone for more than two minutes Michael takes his shirt off to hold back the blood before he throws up on top of everything, and he looks over at his bike that now clearly has a very flat tire and slightly bent wheel. No one is in sight and Kyle’s probably going to take forever, so as quickly as possible he glares the metal wheel back in shape.

It feels good to use his powers, like stretching out a tense muscle that’s all too sore. Feeling the world around him, the magnetic waves, the emotions, everything– it was a lot. At least when he was using his powers that was all he could focus on. He knew better than to use them often, had been told by his adopted father over and over how critical it was in a town like Roswell. Aliens like him, Max, and Isobel weren’t safe. Staying as close to the status quo as possible was important for everyone, even if that meant hiding his powers from the entire town– Kyle and mother included. In the meantime, under the danger, the three alien children were loved and cared for.

#the beginning #michael guerin #kyle valenti #jim valenti #rnm fic #roswell new mexico fic #roswell new mexico #my work #my post #atsstmr

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gamerwoo · 6 years

Text

Wonwoo & Mingyu: Glitch

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader but also Mingyu x female reader

Genre/warnings: hacker au, angst, fluff somewhere in there, enemies to lovers, mentions of abuse, kidnapping, implied torture/abuse, mention of death a lot, depression, mention of separation anxiety, brief mention of alcoholism, and smut at the end (threesome, ig sub!reader???, oral [male and female receiving] double penetration, some praise sprinkled in]

Word count: 18,751

Summary: After your boyfriend goes missing and you can all only assume he’s dead, your boss assigns you a new partner. But considering you don’t want to get close to anybody again in fear of something going wrong again, living together is a lot easier said than done. However, you don’t get hurt the way you think you will.

a/n: wow my longest writing yet!!! shoutout to @neverknewgrey2016 for helping me with the fighting toward the end because i didn’t know how to end this bitch, and also shoutout to markiplier because i had him playing fnaf in the background while i wrote the smut lmao

Masterlist

Very few things in this world could bring you joy: hot cup noodles at 3am, honey butter chips that greased your fingers and your keyboard, warm blankets fresh from the dryer that draped over your shoulders while you worked, and the rare moments of free time where you could spend time with the one thing that made you the happiest.

Mingyu was the one who would cook you ramen at 3am when you hadn’t eaten yet, would keep the cupboards stocked with your favorite chips that he’d gotten you addicted to, and would toss your favorite fuzzy blankets in the dryer to keep you extra comfortable while you worked. He was your best friend, your partner in crime, and the only person you truly loved in this world. You would do anything for him, and he would do the same for you. Despite your dangerous jobs, you loved each other more than anything.

You met through work. You two were the hacker extraordinaires that the agency relied heavily on. That was how your little rivalry started. He’d hack you, you’d hack him back; it was almost a game, really. It started out with ddosing and deleting important files, but it quickly turned into changing wallpapers to memes and leaving dumb notes open for the other. You were always one to keep people at arm's length because your job could get you killed, but you found yourself looking forward to Mingyu’s dumb antics everyday.

Eventually, you just grew closer. Mingyu wanted to video chat out of nowhere -- he just called, he didn’t even ask -- and the first thing that came out of his mouth was, “Should I dress as a sexy maid for this next mission?”

“Uh...what?” you asked, his question causing your fingers to stop typing codes.

“I have to go out for a mission, and I have this sexy maid costume I never used,” he explained as if he was talking to a close friend. “It’s not something I got myself but since it was a gift, I figure I--”

You interrupted his babbling, “Why did you call me?”

“Because,” he sighed happily, holding up his phone for you to see the screen, “I found your info on the agency’s database and you looked cute.”

“I-- Why are you hacking into the agency’s database?”

“Because I wanted to know who I was messing with for the last three months.”

You wondered why you didn’t bother trying to look up Mingyu. You also wondered why the agency’s database was easy enough for one of their workers to hack into it -- then again, you and Mingyu were the top hackers and could hack pretty much anything.

But now that you were looking at who was supposed to be your rival to compete against, you realized...he was really cute. His shaggy brown hair, tanned skin that glowed, and his smile that was even brighter, you wondered how someone like him was a hacker and not some kind of model. Then again, you didn’t think you were awful looking, so…

You spoke with Mingyu for hours while you worked. Even when the two of you fell silent to work, it was comfortable having Mingyu there -- well, not physically but still. That was how your relationship grew until he was taking you on a date, moving in with you, and talking about your future together. Mingyu was the only thing in this world that you truly had an attachment to that you wanted to keep safe -- other than his friends, who quickly became your...acquaintances.

But Mingyu was the same way, which was why he did what he did.

For once, you were asleep in your bed beside Mingyu, clinging to his side to steal his warmth. You had been awake for three days straight, so Mingyu wasn’t surprised when you slept through the intruder alarm going off. The alarm had never gone off before since your security was so tight, but it was a good thing Mingyu installed the precaution anyway. It just made an annoying beep that wasn’t too loud to alert anybody else to you knowing there was a break-in, but it was just annoying enough to wake anybody who hadn’t pulled an all-nighter for the last 72 hours.

Mingyu climbed out of bed, making sure not to wake you as he grabbed his gun and checked the small monitors. Apparently the intruder was in the lounge where the front door opened to. He opened the door quietly and went out to go apprehend the intruder.

That was around the time you woke up. Mingyu yelled, there was a loud bang like somebody had fallen, and you immediately jolted up.

“Gyu?” you asked into the dark bedroom. Realising he wasn’t beside you, you got out of bed as quickly as you could, pressing the emergency button by the door as you exited the bedroom. “Gyu!”

But Mingyu was gone. And there were no traces of him or the intruder.

Various people from the agency arrived to investigate. They said that your push of the emergency button was the only one they got -- Mingyu never pressed it. You wondered why he wouldn’t press it if there was an intruder. You wondered how there was absolutely no trace of him. The place was so clean that even the best investigators couldn’t figure out who took him or how they broke in.

But you held out hope, along with his friends, for three months. They’d reassure you that Mingyu must be out there somewhere, fighting to get back to you. Everybody knew that Mingyu loved you more than he loved anything, and he would do anything to be with you.

“Are you sure you don’t want somebody to come stay with you?” Seungcheol offered. “It might make you feel less lonely.”

“Plus with somebody breaking in, it’s better for you to have more protection in case it happens again,” Minghao agreed.

“Ah, I heightened the security,” Soonyoung scoffed. “She’s safer than the Crown Jewels.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured them, though you weren’t smiling, and your heart still hurt over Mingyu. You weren’t really fine. “It would be...awkward having anybody else live with me.”

“Gyu thought it was awkward living with you at first too, and yet…” Hansol’s sentence trailed off with a chuckle. “You guys really were perfect for each other.”

“Dude, shut up!” Seungkwan scolded him.

You opened your mouth to speak when there was a knock at the door. Your head shot up, looking at the monitor only to see a masked figure dressed in all black leaving your front door. Immediately, your hand hit the emergency button, and you could hear the alarm going off in the back of the video call of a few of the agents you were speaking with.

“___?” Seungcheol sounded worried. “What happened?”

“Somebody showed up at the door, but they were dressed in all black and hiding their face,” you reported as you went to review the security tapes. “They left something on the doorstep.”

“Don’t touch it,” Joshua advised.

“Yeah, we’ll be there soon!” Jeonghan chimed in before he ended his call.

One by one, they ended their calls to get to you.

When the agents arrived, they scoped everything out before deeming this another cold case. Nobody knew where the person came from, where they had gone, or who they were. They even checked whatever the person left to see if it was safe, and after careful examination -- including seeing what was inside -- Jihoon gave you the small box.

“You… You’ll want this,” he mumbled, handing it over to you.

As the boys continued searching for clues through the security tapes, you lifted the small lid on the box. There, resting on the cardboard, was Mingyu’s promise ring. The ring that looked exactly like yours; the rings neither of you took off. They signified that one day, the two of you would get married and be happy without worries.

Giving you this ring was like giving you his dead body. You fell to your knees, unable to even touch the ring, like it would burn your skin. Your eyes welled with tears that you couldn’t contain, and a loud sob cut through the murmurs of the agents and the clicking of keys.

It was official. Mingyu was gone forever.

“___, did you sleep at all?” Seokmin wondered as he stared at the dark circles under your eyes. He knew that the camera didn’t show just how severe they were, but the sight still worried him. “You can’t keep staying awake for days on end just to pass out for a few days straight and then repeat.”

“I slept enough,” you shrugged before letting out a wide yawn. “Fuck, I need another energy drink.”

“You need sleep,” he sighed. “I know it’s only been two months but you need to take better care of yourself--”

“Or you’ll send someone to take care of me,” you groaned, sitting back from the computer and rubbing your face with your hands, “I know, I know. You sound like my parent, y’know.”

“Somebody has to since you clearly can’t function as a real adult,” he chuckled.

“Are any of us real adults?”

“Cheol, maybe. ...Not so much Hoshi, though.”

“He’s good with security, though,” you laughed softly, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a groan. “Hey, have you heard from the boss yet?”

“About what?” he questioned.

“I was approved to move but he had to pick the location,” you explained, spinning slowly in your computer chair. “I was hoping he would’ve told one of you to relay the message since he’s avoiding my calls and emails.”

“Why would he be avoiding you? Don’t tell me you scare the boss?”

“No, I think I annoy him more than scare him.”

Suddenly, your phone started ringing on your desk. You checked the ID and saw it was Seungcheol, so you told Seokmin to be quiet before answering the call.

“Hey, ___,” he began, though he sounded...uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, furrowing your brows together. “You don’t sound too good.”

“Because I think you’ll find this news to be not-too-good,” he chuckled nervously. “So uh...boss decided it’s best that instead of moving, he’ll give you a new partner to work with.”

“No,” you immediately replied, your mind already made up. “If I didn’t want any of you to live with me--”

“I know, ___, but that’s out of our hands. We just got a new guy in a few weeks ago, and boss thinks he’s about as good as you -- if not, better.”

“Better?!” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Please, nobody’s better than--”

You heard your front door open, causing you to pause your sentence abruptly. Seungcheol kept saying your name while Seokmin watched you curiously. He had heard the noise too.

“Do you want me to call somebody?” he offered.

“Is anybody home?” you heard a deep voice call out.

“Ah!” Seungcheol’s voice suddenly sounded brighter. “I guess Wonwoo’s found his way to your place!”

“Wonwoo?” you repeated.

“Wonwoo?” Seokmin repeated after you, looking confused. “Isn’t that the new hacker?”

“Helloooo?” the intruder apparently named Wonwoo repeated, holding out the last vowel.

You sighed, getting out of your chair and leaving Seokmin on his own, “Seungcheol, I’m gonna call you back.”

After hanging up on your friend, you left your room to go find this Wonwoo character. He was in the lounge, looking around with a duffel bag over his shoulder, and round glasses pushed up his nose. His sharp eyes landed on you when you appeared, but his expression stayed neutral.

“Oh, there you are,” he said as if he was playing a casual game of hide-n-seek. “You know, your system to keep out intruders is very complex.”

“Then how did you get through it?” you quizzed, crossing your arms over your chest.

He just shrugged, “I said it was complex, not impossible to get through.”

“You could’ve rang the bell like a normal person.”

“Considering how long it took you to emerge from your room to find what could’ve been an intruder, I can only imagine how long I’d be waiting outside for you.”

“Yes,” you nodded, turning your nose up at him, “because I didn’t agree to a roommate.”

“I’m not a roommate, I’m a housemate,” he corrected. “My name’s Wonwoo.”

“Do you tell every stranger your real name?” you sighed. “Don’t you have an alias?”

“Woo.”

You frowned, ‘Just like Agent Gyu.’

Wonwoo either didn’t take notice of your facial expression, or he didn’t care, “Do you have one?”

“Glitch.”

He chuckled with a snort, “Where’d you come up with that?”

“It was Agent Z, but...somebody gave me a new one,” you nodded, saying the last part softly.

Wonwoo nodded before he went back to scoping out the lounge. There were a few articles of clothing thrown around, a few empty soda cans, chip bags, and ramen noodle cups, and you weren’t sure when the last time you vacuumed was, but Wonwoo didn’t comment on any of it. Hey, he was a hacker too, there was no way he could always be clean.

“So…” he began slowly as he took careful steps further into the house as if he hadn’t hacked into your security system and technically -- no, he did -- break in, “where do I stay?”

“Away from me,” you replied, turning on your heels and starting back toward your room. “You can crash on the couch.”

“Where does my setup go?!” he called after you.

“Not my problem!”

You didn’t see Wonwoo for two days. You were holed up in your office doing work the entire time, and you lived off of the few snacks you had stored in there. But your friends knew when you ran out because your stomach would make loud noises that nobody could miss.

“___, you need to eat something,” Jeonghan had scolded.

You just shrugged and carried on with your work, ignoring Junhui’s comments about your dark circles. You knew you looked like a mess but you always invested so much into your work -- even more so after Mingyu died. Did they really think you’d suddenly change just because some guy had to move in with you?

But things did change. On the third day, there was a soft knock on the door. When you didn’t reply, the door opened slowly, light from the hallway streaming in and making you squint. Wonwoo walked in with a plate a sushi, setting it beside your keyboard. You stared at it like you’d never seen sushi before.

Truthfully, nobody had ever taken care of you, even if it was just bringing you food. Mingyu was the only person who ever made sure you ate. Other than that, it was completely up to you -- other than your friend berating you to eat something or catch some z’s. So your new housemate suddenly showing up with food was...weird.

“What...is this?” you wondered before you looked up at him.

He shrugged, “You haven’t been out of the room in three days and I didn’t know if you had anything to eat. I ordered some takeout and I figured you might want some. Do you like sushi?”

“You know there’s plenty of ramen, right?”

“Clearly, you live off of ramen, and that’s awful for you. I also noticed all those chips and--”

“Don’t touch the chips,” you snapped.

He held his hands up in surrender, chuckling, “I wasn’t planning on it. My point is, you can’t only eat ramen and chips. Just say thank you for the meal, and I’ll leave.”

“Why should I say thank you for something I didn’t ask for?”

Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his glasses slipping slightly from his nose, “You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Mmm,” you just hummed in reply, looking back at your computer screen.

He just shook his head and left the room, leaving you in the dark once again.

You didn’t touch your sushi.

“So what’s her deal?”

Your friends had brought in a nice welcome wagon for the new recruit, and they quickly became friends. Seungcheol had called to make sure he was settling in well, and of course, the conversation drifted to you. Wonwoo explained how you were cold toward him and had hidden away in your room for the last week. So far, your new housemate knew virtually nothing about you.

“Oh, uh,” Seungcheol scratched the back of his head, unsure how to explain your situation, “it’s...a long story.”

“Didn’t you say she had a housemate before me?” Wonwoo wondered as he did some side works on his computer. “How did they warm up to her?”

“Mingyu? Oh, well...I think he hacked the agency to look up her information.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrowed together, glancing at the screen where Seungcheol’s face was, “Why would somebody do that? Didn’t he get in trouble?”

“Nobody even knew he did it!” Seungcheol laughed, remembering Mingyu bragging to him about it. “The two of them were the top hackers in the agency, and now it’s you two; that’s why the agency had you live with her. She was originally going to move away somewhere else.”

As Seungcheol spoke, Wonwoo’s fingers danced across the keyboard, interested in getting more information on you -- or at least whatever the agency had available. He knew it was an invasion of privacy, but he didn’t want to live with someone he was so distant with. He wanted to know more about you, and hopefully help you at least sort of tolerate him.

“Why was she going to move away?” Wonwoo wondered, his eyes scanning the screen as his fingers moved diligently.

“Well, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

Quickly, Wonwoo found the files he was looking for. He scrolled down the names, noting a few of them as he scanned them. Choi “Coups” Seungcheol: active. Lee “Dino” Chan: active. Kwon “Hoshi” Soonyoung: active. Kim “Gyu” Mingyu: terminated.

Wonwoo stopped, his eyebrows pulling together as he clicked on the file.

“Who was Mingyu, and why was he terminated?” he questioned as he began to scan through the information. “Oh, was he Glitch’s roommate?”

“Yeah,” the older boy nodded solemnly, “but he’s why she was going to move.”

“Because he was fired? Oh wait...oh…”

Wonwoo got to the bottom of the page and read that he was deceased. It said the cause of death was unknown, but that he was kidnapped from his home -- the home that Wonwoo knew he shared with you.

“No wonder she wants to leave…” Wonwoo muttered as he continued his search.

“Yeah…” Seungcheol nodded. “Mingyu and her were inseparable.”

Wonwoo kept Mingyu’s profile up but went in search for yours next. He didn’t know what to look for since he didn’t know your name, but he knew he could at least find you based on your alias. But as he scanned all the files, he found nothing. Every name he didn’t recognize did not have the alias he was looking for. Kim “Kai” Jongin. Park “Chim” Jimin. Lee “Onew” Jinki. You just weren’t there.

But then he remembered what you had told him.

“It was Agent Z, but...somebody gave me a new one.”

Wonwoo went down the list again, softly clicking his tongue as he looked for the new alias. Sure enough, there it was: ___ “Z” ___: active.

“Cheol,” Wonwoo spoke up as he opened your information, “isn’t her name Glitch?”

Seungcheol shook his head, “Not officially.”

There wasn’t much information on you except your name, your address, your height, the year you were born, and a picture of you. Other than that, it said you currently weren’t deployed for an outside mission, and a few details about Mingyu’s kidnapping. It said you were in the house and asleep when it happened, that you knew nothing, and you weren’t a suspect. He also saw that it read, ‘priority,’ on your profile, which he assumed meant you were a valued hacker and were to be taken special care of. He only knew because he was added to that one-person list, so now it was the two of you.

But he at least had something to work with. He knew your name, that was good. That would have to suffice, at least for now. Although, he was a little curious about you and this Mingyu person, but Seungcheol had warned him prior to not say anything about your previous housemate. Maybe he could work up to it, though.

Wonwoo stretched, deciding he was hungry now, “I’ll be right back, Cheol. I’m gonna find some ramen or something.”

“‘Kay,” he replied as he continued to do whatever he was working on.

That was around the time you decided to emerge from your dark room to stock up on more food. You walked into the lounge, expecting to see Wonwoo working away since that’s where his desktop was now -- you only knew thanks to security cameras you accessed from your office. However, he was gone, but his work was still up.

You didn’t think much of it, simply glancing at his screen as you walked to the kitchen. But then something caught your eye: you. Your face was shown on the screen. So you walked over and sat down, scanning the page. He’d hacked the agency’s files to research about you. Your jaw clenched. He was doing exactly what Mingyu had done, and it had those memories flooding back into your head. You hated it because those happy memories only made you more upset.

You were about to look away to go chew out Wonwoo, but then it only got worse.

The familiar smile of Mingyu was peeking out behind the window that had your information, and you saw that Wonwoo was even researching about him. Boy, were you livid now. It was bad enough he was snooping around about you, but now Mingyu? Why would he do that? What right did he have to bring up Mingyu after what happened?

“Oh, ___!” Seungcheol jumped when he realized you were there, red faced and glaring at the screen, hot tears burning your eyes.

Wonwoo heard the older boy say your name, so he walked out of the kitchen to see you standing up to face him, your hands balled into fists at your side.

“So, your name is ___, huh?” he smirked, leaning up against the doorway.

“Do you really think I’m here to joke around with you?” you asked, seething with rage that dripped into the tone of your voice.

Wonwoo’s joking demeanor fell as he really took in your body language. You were so mad, you were shaking Tears were about to spill over, and he’d never seen your face so red.

“___--”

“Why did you look up all that information?” you demanded, cutting him off from whatever he planned to say to attempt to make this better.

He gestured to the computer, getting defensive, “So it’s okay that Mingyu did?”

“Don’t talk about him like you know him!” you shouted, your voice breaking toward the end. “You and him are two completely different people. Why did you even look him up? You don’t need to know anything about him except that he’s gone, and that’s it! Anybody else who mentions him to you will have to deal with me, because he is none of your business, got it? And if you ever look me or him up again, you’ll be the next person to disappear without a trace.”

All Wonwoo could do was stare at you, his mouth slightly agape. You thought it was because you’d really yelled at him, but then you realized you were crying when tears started to fall onto your shirt.

“___, I’m--”

“Shut up,” you snapped, wiping your tears before quickly stomping out of the room.

Wonwoo stood in the same spot for a moment after hearing your door slam before going over to the computer again. Seungcheol looked disappointed in himself, carding his hands through his hair. He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I was the one who decided to research,” Wonwoo nodded. “It was my own fault. I was hoping I could use the information on her to get to know her better but…”

“She’ll come around,” the older boy promised. “She did before.”

Wonwoo gave you space the next week. He knew you were upset because of something dumb he did, and he did plan on apologizing, but he wanted to give you space beforehand. He knew you needed to cool off, but he also needed to figure out how to go about making it up to you. He wanted you to know he did really feel bad for snooping.

He didn’t know much about you, but he picked up on something you liked a lot: honey butter chips. The only times he ever saw you, it was when you made the walk from your office to the kitchen, and you had to go through the lounge. You’d walk back toward your room with your arms full of the bags before he’d hear your door close again. Well, after his little stunt, he noticed you were clean out of the snacks. He didn’t know if your feelings were causing you to eat more of them or not but he knew he should buy you more anyway just to apologize, even if it was a small gesture.

So Wonwoo went to the store in some sweats to grab you some. The cashier definitely gave him a weird look for buying copious amounts of chips -- only chips, and one box of protein bars for when Wonwoo couldn’t have a real meal -- and leaving, but he didn’t pay her any mind. He just wanted to get home so he didn’t have to be out in public for too long. He knew nobody would know he was an agent or anything, but he still hated being in public without some sort of disguise, or a hat at the very least.

When he returned home, there was no trace of you. You hadn’t left your office in four days, and he wasn’t sure if you were even sleeping anymore. But clearly, now wasn’t the time for him to lecture you on how to live your life.

He walked down the hall to your office, where he could hear a male’s voice.

“___, you need to sleep in a real bed, not your office chair,” they sighed.

At least you were sleeping, then.

“Are you sure you’re not working more to keep your mind off of...something?” a new voice asked.

“If you’re talking about Wonwoo, the answer is no,” you replied sharply. “I don’t care what he’s doing as long as it doesn’t involve Mingyu anymore.”

It hit Wonwoo that he shouldn’t be listening in on your conversation. So he knocked on your door before waiting for a reply. When he didn’t get one, he slowly opened the door, peeking inside to see you staring blankly at your many monitors. He frowned seeing the state you were in. Your hair was greasy and matted, your eyes had bags and dark circles, and you were hunched forward like you were going to pass out at any second.

“___?” his voice was soft as he fully entered the room. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You’re forgiven,” you said flatly, “now get out.”

He let out a sigh, “I’m serious! I even went out and bought you more honey butter chips, but I won’t give them to you if you don’t listen to me.”

Your eyes shifted from the screen to your housemate, narrowing at him as he dangled one of the bags in front of you, “You’re forcing me to listen to you with food?”

“Is it working?” Wonwoo asked with the hint of a smile.

“...Maybe.”

“I really am sorry for what I did, ___,” he repeated, turning serious again. “I won’t do anything like that ever again. I just wanted to get closer with you since we live in the same space, but your life should be your life; you should tell me what you want to, and keep secret what you want to. I should’ve respected that, and I’m sorry.”

You just stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly, “Thanks.”

“Then, here’s your chips,” he said, dropping the bag on your desk, “but you have to promise to eat this first.”

He then opened a box he had pinned between his arm and torso, and took something out of it. He tossed it to you, and you read the wrapper, scrunching up your nose, “Why?”

“If I’m being honest, you look awful,” he chuckled. “You can’t live off of chips, ___.”

“That’s what we tell her!” one of the voices from her computer shouted.

“Then make sure she eats that,” Wonwoo told them before exiting your room.

Immediately, you set the bar down on the desk, and went to open the chip bag. You were interrupted by Junhui’s voice.

“What was that?” he wondered.

“It’s a meal replacement bar,” you shrugged, pulling down on the chip bag to rip the side.

“Eat it,” Minghao ordered.

You paused, looking at the boys on your monitor, “Why? It’s still not real food.”

“But it’s better than chips!” Seungkwan agreed. “Please just eat it before you eat more chips. You haven’t been taking care of yourself, and you need to.”

“If you’re not in good health, you know what the boss will do,” Junhui reminded you.

With a groan, you tossed the chip bag onto the desk and picked up the bar. You tore the wrapper open with your teeth, spitting the plastic off into the darkness of your room before taking a bite out of it, and silently cursing Wonwoo.

You wandered out of your room one night to get some ramen or something. Seungcheol was scolding you because of your health and eating habits, so you were forced to go find some “real food” or Seungcheol would tell the boss.

With your shitty luck, you ran into Wonwoo as you passed through the lounge. He was staring at his setup before he noticed you walking by. He frowned, seeing you in real light for the first time. You looked even more awful than he thought.

“___,” he called your name softly, though you didn’t stop on your way to the kitchen.

“What?” you spat.

Wonwoo stood to follow you, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You should take some time for yourself before going back to work. Shower, take a nap, and such.”

“You should mind your business,” you shot back, looking through the pantry.

Suddenly, the door you held open was slammed shut. Wonwoo was staring down at you, his expression neutral, “___, please.”

“And what do you care? Huh?” you quizzed.

The two of you stood there in silence, simply having a staring contest with each other. Finally, you let out a loud groan and went to a cupboard. You opened it, took out a bottle of sake, and left the kitchen. You made it a point to stare at Wonwoo as you casually opened the bottle and took a swig before exiting.

“That’s not what I meant by taking time for yourself!” he called after you.

“This is my self care, asshole!” you shouted back before he heard the slam of your door.

Truthfully, it was your self care for a long time. It was how you coped with Mingyu’s disappearance for a while, which definitely wasn’t the most healthy way to deal.

Anybody would argue that your current actions -- or lack thereof -- were because of what happened to Mingyu. You didn’t take care of yourself, you deprived yourself of nutrients, sleep, and hygiene, and you shut people out. People like Wonwoo who were just trying to do their job, and help you. But you always insisted you did all of that because it wasn’t pertinent to your job.

You thought about all of this as you flopped down onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Mingyu had stuck a bunch of glow-in-the-dark stars up there because the two of you hardly got to go outside to look at them at night. He thought it was a funny joke, and you thought he was a big dork for it. But that was why you loved him. He was a big dork, but it made your life more tolerable; maybe even enjoyable.

The more you thought about all of it, the longer the drinks you took from the bottle became. You’d never admit it, but you missed Mingyu so much that it hurt. You missed him so much that it felt like every breath you took ignited a fire in your lungs that made it hard to keep breathing. You missed him so much that your heart felt like it was slowly shattering each and every second, to a point where it was hard to stand anymore. You just wanted your Mingyu back, but he was never coming back. The ring that belonged to him that you wore on the thin silver chain, hidden away under your shirt, was a reminder of that.

Mingyu was gone forever.

“Fuck,” you sighed, realizing your eyes were welling with tears.

So you wiped them with your sleeve, and took another drink.

You had no idea what you were doing. Stumbling out of your room an hour or so later, drunker than you’d been in a while, and sputtering out your need for chicken and pizza.

Of course, Wonwoo heard you down the hall, and concern showed on his face. He’d never heard your voice so garbled before. But then he remembered how you walked off with the bottle of sake, and he assumed you probably had a lot to drink from the bottle.

Soon enough, you found your way into the lounge where Wonwoo was, and you raised your eyebrows when you saw him standing up already, “You’re...tall.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I noticed. Are...you okay, ___?”

“Yeaaaah,” you slurred, waving away his question while almost knocking yourself over from the movement, “no biggie.”

“You sure?” he asked, moving away from the couch and coffee table to go over to you.

Hesitantly, Wonwoo put an arm around your waist, and almost relaxed himself when you let him. You leaned into his side, having a hard time standing on your own, and gripped the side of his shirt with one hand. He led you over to the couch he was sitting on, setting you down slowly. However, you didn’t release your grip on Wonwoo.

“I haven’t been around anybody since Mingyu,” you spoke up, just blathering out whatever was on your mind, and Mingyu was all you could think about. Your voice was soft, but your words still ran together, and you were hiccuping between every few words. “You’re...warm.”

Wonwoo chose to ignore the first part, knowing you didn’t want him talking about Mingyu, “Do Seungcheol and the others not come visit you?”

You shook your head, “Nobody has the time. I lived with Mingyu, but...he was taken.”

Clearly, you wanted to talk about Mingyu, so Wonwoo had no choice but to ask, “He was taken?”

“Kidnapped,” you nodded, your face falling before you added on, “and killed.”

Wonwoo sat down beside you, “How do you know he was killed?”

“They sent me this,” you pulled the ring out from under your shirt, letting Wonwoo examine it between his fingers. “We had promise rings, and this one was Mingyu’s. I still wear mine. I couldn’t...I couldn’t take it off.”

Wonwoo heard you sniffle, and his eyes glanced up at your face as he let the ring drop from his hand. You rubbed at your eyes like a child, wiggling your nose as you sniffled again. Wonwoo frowned.

“___…”

“I miss him,” you admitted, coughing like you were trying to hide the fact you were about to cry. When you removed your fists from your eyes, your eyes were red and glossy. “I miss having somebody that loved me as much as I loved them.”

To that, Wonwoo didn’t know what to say. You had only been cold to him, and now you were suddenly blabbering everything you felt. While he was happy you were letting him in, he felt dirty because he knew it was just because you were drunk.

He noticed you started to cry, so he did the only thing he could think to do: he held you. He pulled you to him and let you cry. You weakly held onto his shirt like it was a security blanket, letting out all of the emotions you kept held in. He rubbed your back, trying to soothe you as best as he could.

Wonwoo let the two of you sit like there for a moment before he decided to take you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up, and hopefully a bit more sober. He managed to lift you relatively easily, carrying you down the hall to the bathroom. He set you down on the counter before going to turn on the shower and setting the temperature.

“Wonwoo?” you spoke up suddenly, watching him from where you sat. He looked over at you, humming in response. “...Why are you nice to me still?”

He shrugged, unsure of how to reply, “Well...if we live together, it would be kind of shitty to hate each other, right?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, leaning back against the mirror. “It’s just...hard. You remind me of Mingyu sometimes.”

That piqued Wonwoo’s interest, “I do? How?”

“He went by Gyu, and you go by Woo.”

“That’s it?” he chuckled, walking over to lean against the counter beside you.

“I wasn’t done,” you huffed. “You both always tell me what to do. Like, he would tell me I have to eat real food, and so do you. And you’re always like, looking out for me, I guess. Nobody looked out for me other than Mingyu.”

“So...do you want me to stop?” he wondered, furrowing his brows together.

“I...don’t...know,” you decided chewing on your lower lip as you thought about it. Part of you liked it -- liked Wonwoo, even -- but part of you still felt uncomfortable about that. You wanted to both push Wonwoo away, but also pull him closer.

But what if you lost Wonwoo too?

You didn’t want to think about that.

“You should shower,” Wonwoo said after the brief silence. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re done. I’ll make you some food, okay?”

“Wonwoo?” you slid down from the counter as Wonwoo opened the bathroom door. “Thank you.”

It was the first time you has genuinely thanked him before, and he smiled, “No problem.”

After the door was closed, you peeled off the clothes you’d been wearing for however many days -- you lost track -- and stepped into the shower. The water was hot, but not scalding. You found it comforting, and just stood there for a while without doing anything. You just...thought about things. About Mingyu, and Wonwoo, and how things were different but how things were still similar.

You spent a lot of time thinking about Wonwoo, though. You tried your best to avoid him, but you just chalked it up to you being angry about people moving on from Mingyu’s death so quickly. You were telling everyone -- including yourself -- that you were angry because you wanted to be alone and move out of this house, but the boss gave you the exact opposite of what you wanted. And sure, that’s what it was at first, but then it was something else.

Wonwoo watched over you. He made you eat real food, he tried to learn about you in the same manner as Mingyu, and he even used the same method of choosing an alias as Mingyu had. He reminded you so much of Mingyu, and it upset you and frightened you. You liked Wonwoo. You saw familiar things in him that made you feel something, and that scared you. What if Wonwoo got taken away too?

In your drunk state, you started crying all over again. You felt so many things at once that your drunk mind couldn’t process, so you just cried. And once that was all out of your system, you washed your hair and body before getting out of the shower and wrapping towels around yourself.

Once you were dried and dressed, you walked out of the bathroom and into the lounge. Wonwoo was working to pass the time, but immediately looked up when he saw you. He was pleased to see your hair was a wet mess, meaning you did actually wash your hair.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Still kinda tipsy, and I have a headache.”

He gestured to the coffee table, “Aspirin and water.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, shuffling over to take the medicine and gulp down half the water bottle. Then you sat down beside him, pulling your knees to your chest. “I’m sorry for--”

“Don’t be sorry about anything,” he told you, sitting away from his computer and laying his head back against the back of the couch. “Somebody important was taken away from you; I can’t imagine how you’d be feeling.”

“And I’m not the best at expressing feelings,” you deadpanned with a breathy laugh.

“That’s okay,” he shrugged, “not everyone can express themselves with words. We’ll make things work.”

You nodded, staring straight ahead at the TV that wasn’t turned on -- you weren’t sure when you had last used it. Maybe before Mingyu was taken? You wondered if Wonwoo ever used it, and what he watched.

“Are you hungry?” Wonwoo’s deep voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You nodded, so he stood and gestured for you to follow. He had you actually sit at the counter -- something you hadn’t done in months -- to eat the meat and rice he’d made for you. It definitely wasn’t the prettiest plating, and it looked slightly overcooked, but hey, he tried. So you sat down and ate while he ate the little bits you didn’t want, as well as what was left in the pan.

While the two of you ate, you each found out small things about each other. How you were in love with the honey butter chips because of Mingyu, and how Wonwoo had a soft spot for cheesecake. How Wonwoo was terrified of dogs, and you always wanted one -- that made him laugh a bit nervously. But they were all tiny details, nothing like major facts about your backgrounds and where you came from.

By the time you were done eating, you were yawning and rubbing your eyes. There was still a little bit of food on your plate, but Wonwoo made sure to give you extra since you had barely eaten anything other than chips and ramen.

“C’mon, I’ll help you to bed,” Wonwoo offered with a warm smile as he went around to the other side of the counter to help you.

He placed an arm around your waist and guided you to your room as you tripped over your own feet. You were too sleepy, which mixed with the fact you were still a little bit drunk. Thus, you were half-dragged to your room where Wonwoo helped you lay in bed. He even tucked you in.

“Goodnight, Wonwoo,” you said softly, already half asleep.

He half-smiled, turning just as he exited your room to see you pull the blankets closer, “Goodnight, ___.”

After he closed the door and walked back to the living room, he thought about you. You said you were bad at expressing your feelings, but truthfully, so was he. Wonwoo was always alone; he never had anybody to take care of. He always wanted somebody he could look out for and take care of, but he never had it. So he usually shoved that want to the back of his mind, pretending like he didn’t feel completely alone.

But now he had someone to care for. Now, Wonwoo had you.

You slept for three days. Wonwoo made sure to check on you every few hours when he was awake -- he just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen into a coma or something -- and was prepared to order plenty of food when you did wake up because he knew his cooking skills were subpar.

When you did wake up, it was morning. The sun streaming in from your slightly-parted curtains was a clear indication of that. You checked your phone that was about to die where it was in your pocket, and you were impressed with how long you slept. However, you were also impressed with the amount of texts and emails you had.

You got out of bed, changed clothes, and went straight to the bathroom to at least fix your hair a little. You’d brush your teeth after eating, which was also a top priority. Your stomach loudly rumbling was a clear indication of that.

When your bladder wasn’t close to exploding, and your hair wasn’t as big of a mess as it was, you left the bathroom to go to the living room. As expected, Wonwoo was there, already working. However, he dropped everything he was doing when he saw you, his face brightening.

“Well, look who’s alive!” he teased with a bright smile that even made you smile a little.

Honestly, getting all your drunken feelings out kind of made you feel a little better about being around him. Sure, you didn’t completely tell him how you felt, but you definitely felt less tense around him.

“Unfortunately,” you joked with a yawn, stretching out your limbs.

“Your friends were worried about you, but I told them you finally went to sleep,” he chuckled, holding up his phone to signify that he was also blown up with messages. “They sure get worried about you.”

“They were Mingyu’s friends before they were mine,” you explained as you walked over to the couch and plopped down. “They’re nice, though. They make for good company since I was always alone.”

“Didn’t it get weird having them just...pop in out of nowhere?” he wondered, sitting back as he stretched out his arms with a grunt.

“Sometimes,” you nodded with a soft laugh. “It’s definitely a bit weird, but it’s something I got used to.”

Wonwoo just nodded, letting the two of you fall into an oddly comfortable silence. You could hear the purr of Wonwoo’s setup but that was all the noise you heard. You were surprised that you didn’t feel uncomfortable, and you assumed it was because you’d pretty much broken down that barrier you had put up between you and him. But was it really that easy? Just crying about your pent up feelings really solved everything?

It seemed too easy.

“Are you hungry?” Wonwoo’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

As if it understood, your stomach growled loudly. Wonwoo’s laugh was deep and loud and warm, and it made you smile. It reminded you of the loud laughs Mingyu would let out at the dumbest things. Your heart fluttered for a moment.

You did understand Wonwoo and Mingyu were different people, but there were things you saw in Wonwoo that reminded you of Mingyu. Did that mean you only liked Wonwoo because he reminded you of Mingyu? No. You liked Wonwoo because he did things that made you happy. Mingyu just happened to also do those things.

But did you want to like Wonwoo? No.

“C’mon, let’s go out for breakfast,” Wonwoo suggested as he pushed himself off of the couch.

Your thoughts seemed to stutter to a stop as your head whipped around, following Wonwoo as he walked toward the door, “Out? Like...to a restaurant?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, slipping his feet into his sneakers. “I think there’s a diner nearby, right?”

“Uh...I-I think so,” you stammered.

“What?” he chuckled, noticing how odd you were acting. “Do you not go outside?”

“I haven’t in a long time, no,” you answered truthfully, finally getting off the couch to go put on your shoes that had stayed untouched by the door. “I get everything delivered to me.”

“We need to get you some vitamins,” he said, making a face as he opened the door. “Let’s hope you don’t melt in the sun.”

The walk to the road was pretty long considering your security measures. Your front door could only be reached by a long driveway, which had plenty of cameras, motion triggers, and the like. Of course, you could turn them off via your phone, but the walk was still long because the path was long to give plenty of opportunities for warning and/or capture of any intruders in case any of the other traps didn’t work.

Once the two of you reached the road, you turned right toward the diner Wonwoo was talking about. You hadn’t been there in months -- the last time was with Mingyu -- but you remembered exactly where it was. You didn’t know if it was still there, but if it wasn’t, you could probably find somewhere else to have breakfast.

You reached a crosswalk, and went to just walk even though the little light didn’t tell you to. It was something you always did when there wasn’t traffic or the cars were momentarily stopped, figuring it wasn’t a big deal. However, Wonwoo grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back, almost pulling you over.

“Hey, what the--” you whined, turning to face him.

“You have to wait, ___,” he stated, hitting the button with the side of his fist. “If you get hit by a car--”

“I have yet to get hit by a car,” you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Everyone has a first time to die, ___,” he stated matter-of-factly, “and it’s usually their last.”

You opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but came up with nothing. So you just snapped your jaw shut, taking note of the smirk on Wonwoo’s face.

When the light showed the little glowing person, Wonwoo gripped your upper arm and helped you across the street like you needed the assistance. But instead of pulling away, you just let him.

When you reached the diner, you sat yourselves at a booth, sitting across from each other. Wonwoo grabbed the menus from where they were pushed up between the wall and condiment holder, handing one to you before he opened his own. But you already knew what you wanted because you always got it, and Mingyu would tease you for it.

Wonwoo noticed you just put the menu back, smirking at you from behind his glasses, “Already decided that quick?”

“Chocolate milk, coffee, scrambled eggs with wheat toast, bacon, and potatoes, and two cinnamon buns,” you stated with a solid nod.

“Why do you need chocolate milk and coffee?” he asked with a chuckle.

“To appease the child in me, and the other part of me that’s dead inside,” you deadpanned.

Wonwoo nodded, raising his eyebrows as his eyes drifted back down to his menu, “I’ll cheers to that.”

The waitress came over to take your order, and you repeated everything you wanted, exactly how you wanted it. Wonwoo then gave off his order, and the woman wrote it down before going to turn to leave.

“Oh!” you suddenly spoke up, remembering something you forgot. “Can we have a Belgian waffle as well?”

The waitress added that to the list before walking back to the kitchen.

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head at you, “You really are going to eat all of that?”

“Oh, the waffle was tradition for Mingyu and I,” you explained as another woman came over to pour coffee into the mugs already on your table. “We used to share it when we’d come here.”

Wonwoo thanked the woman before his attention was back on you. He looked interested in your little story, his hands folded together in front of him.

“So...should I share it with you?” he wondered softly, before quickly added, “Unless you want to keep it your thing with him.”

“I...don’t know,” you admitted, your brows knitting together as you thought about it. Would you feel like you were betraying Mingyu by sharing something you did with him, with Wonwoo? “What do you think?”

Wonwoo chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought it over, “I think...you should leave the other half. For him. Kinda like pouring one out.”

You nodded, looking back at Wonwoo with a warm half-smile, “I like that.”

So you enjoyed your breakfast with Wonwoo, eating only half of your waffle. You laughed, talked, and you ultimately felt closer to Wonwoo afterwards. The two of you split the check, but Wonwoo insisted on leaving the tip himself. And then you left the diner, leaving the other half of the waffle behind for Mingyu. In a way, it felt like some form of small closure.

Things got better over the next two and a half months. You and Wonwoo spent more time together, you left the house more, and your health was getting better. You didn’t sport dark circles as frequently, and you were forced to eat a proper dinner at least four times a week. Wonwoo typically ordered out, but he was trying to learn how to cook. You taught him little things you’d picked up from Mingyu, since he was a fantastic cook despite his laziness when it came to actually making meals. You even let him sleep in your room since you didn’t have a second bed, and you often found yourself laying extremely close to him when you woke up in the morning. You also let him move his setup to the bedroom since yours took up the entire office.

Your friends noticed the change, too. They were pleased to see you weren’t as grumpy, and they wondered if you were finally coming out of your depression over Mingyu. Obviously, there wasn’t a time limit on how long you could mourn somebody, but you had mourned Mingyu for a long time, and you hadn’t really let your feelings out until that night you got drunk and cried in front of Wonwoo. You didn’t completely let everything out, but you addressed the biggest thing: you missed Mingyu, and you hated feeling alone. You’d conquered those feelings, and let somebody new in. Now, you didn’t feel so alone.

Wonwoo and you were closer than ever. However, that scared you. You realized you were starting to feel similar feelings toward him that you felt toward Mingyu, but you didn’t feel those things because he sometimes reminded you of Mingyu. You felt those feelings because he was Wonwoo, and you just liked Wonwoo.

Maybe even loved Wonwoo…?

When you thought about it, the fact was that Wonwoo took care of you, and you liked it; you loved it. You loved feeling cared for and loved. You loved having Wonwoo nag you to take care of yourself because he wanted you to be healthy. The fact Wonwoo took time out of his day just to make sure you were doing alright made your heart race, and your stomach do flips. That was something only Mingyu did for you, but now Wonwoo was doing it, and you thrived off of it. You figured it was because you never really had a proper family to care about you, but you absolutely loved being cared for.

But there were things Wonwoo did that Mingyu didn’t do, and you still loved those things. He wouldn’t let you go on work binges where you’d stay up for days at a time. He would force you to go outside at least once a week, even if it was just for walks. He liked to invite you to watch movies with him that weren’t just crappy comedies that the two of you would make fun of. Sometimes they were horror films based off of real events, or sometimes they were documentaries that made you think about the world, and cry sometimes. But Wonwoo was always there to comfort you, and he never laughed at you for crying.

Mingyu was Mingyu, and Wonwoo was Wonwoo, but you loved Wonwoo like you loved Mingyu, and that terrified you.

But some sadistic part of you wanted to love Wonwoo anyway.

One of the times the two of you were on the couch together watching a movie, you decided to play a drinking game. You were watching some classic horror movie, and you were supposed to take a shot every time a certain thing happened or someone said a significant word or line. It didn’t get you really drunk, but it got the both of you drunk enough to start talking about your past lives.

“Don’t you wonder why other people leave their lives and families to do this?” Wonwoo wondered after swallowing a shot. He placed his shot glass on the table before leaning back and sighing. “This is the shadiest job ever, so only people with shit lives could take up the offer.”

“So you had a shit life?” you assumed, hiccuping at the end.

He nodded, running his slim fingers through his hair, “I had a younger sibling who passed away from leukemia. My parents stopped giving a shit after that so...I left.”

“Oh…” you nodded, not really knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

He just shrugged, “‘S okay. What about you?”

“I was raised in an abusive household, and one of the neighbors basically stole me away and had me training for the agency ever since,” you explained shortly before taking a shot just for fun. “That’s why I’m the best.”

“One of the best,” Wonwoo correct with a smirk. He wiggled his eyebrows when you playfully glared at him. “You and me are tied, cutie pie.”

“Cutie pie?” you scoffed, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. “That’s new.”

“You know what I think, ___?” Wonwoo asked, leaning over to pour himself another drink. He didn’t continue what he was saying until he had another shot ready in his hand. “I think Mingyu started calling you Glitch because you like...glitched out his heart.”

You paused getting yourself another drink, all of your attention hyper focused on Wonwoo now, “...What?”

“In our business, we’re not supposed to give a shit about anybody, right?” he asked. “But I give a lot of shits about you, ___. You like, glitched out my feelings and you just...you made me feel...things.”

All you could do was laugh, but the kind where you just exhaled out of your nose, “I make you feel things?”

“Yeah, like...warm, fuzzy, heart racing feelings.”

“Are we in kindergarten, Woo? You can just say you like me.”

“But I don’t like you,” Wonwoo groaned, running both hands through his hair, “I love you!”

You were completely frozen now. Yes, you loved Wonwoo, which you were still coming to terms with, but you didn’t think in a million years that he would ever love you back! So...what did you do now?

“Y-you love me?” you stammered out in a whisper.

Wonwoo just stared back at you, staying silent for a few seconds, “You know, if I wasn’t kind of drunk, I wouldn’t have told you like this.”

“How would you have told me?” you wondered, just staring at Wonwoo.

“Well…” he began slowly, sitting up a little straighter and taking your hands in his, “I’d sit you down, completely sober--”

“Already doing great,” you joked lightly.

He snorted a bit, but kept going, “And I’d look you in your eyes…”

You just barely nodded, “Y-yeah…”

Wonwoo leaned in slowly, his lips getting closer and closer to yours, “And I’d ask if I could kiss you…”

You stayed still, anticipating what you knew would happen next. When you didn’t stop him, Wonwoo let his lips press softly to yours. Your hands instinctively went up to his shoulders, and one of his hands cupped your cheek as the other held your waist. His kiss was slow and sweet, his lips moving cautiously against yours in case you wanted to stop. But nothing in you wanted to stop. In fact, every single part of you wanted to keep going.

His lips tasted like the alcohol the two of you were drinking, but it somehow seemed like the alcohol from his lips got you drunker than the alcohol straight from the bottle. Your head felt like it was spinning in the best way possible, and your heart was pounding in your chest. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time, and you didn’t want it to end. You didn’t feel afraid to love Wonwoo anymore, you felt somewhat comforted.

As the kiss got deeper and his lips moved a bit faster with yours, you found him suddenly on top of you. You were on your back, your legs wrapped around his hips as Wonwoo held himself above you just enough that he wouldn’t completely crush you.

“I love you,” he mumbled into the kiss, making your heart beat so quickly, you were sure he could feel it.

“I love you,” you replied, not even giving it a second thought.

You could feel Wonwoo smiling against your lips, pulling back to look at you, “Really?”

You nodded, “Really. I was afraid to, but...I do.”

“It’s okay, I get it,” he reassured you, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “We’ll take it slow, don’t worry.”

“You...do realize you’re completely on top of me, right?” you laughed.

The serious, sensual mood suddenly shifted as Wonwoo let out a deep belly laugh, his face turning red, “Okay, yeah, you make a good point.”

Wonwoo sat up, climbing off of you and sitting back in his original spot on the couch. This time, though, you sat closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Actually, that was why Mingyu called me that,” you informed him suddenly. “He started calling me Glitch when he started to like me, and then he told me he loved me by hacking into my computer because he said it was ‘only fair’.”

Wonwoo laughed deeply, shaking his head, “He sounds like he was funny.”

“He was definitely something,” you agreed with a laugh of your own. “It doesn’t hurt to talk about him anymore. I still miss him, but I don’t mind telling you about him.”

“That means you’re coping,” he chuckled, letting his head rest on top of yours.

You fell into silence, just watching the movie. You weren’t really paying attention to the movie, though, because you couldn’t get over what just happened. Wonwoo actually loved you, and you loved him. You had to realize you couldn’t just shut yourself out from others; you had to move on if Mingyu wasn’t ever going to come back. These last few months, you had realized it’s okay to be happy.

And Wonwoo really made you happy.

You sat at your computer, eyes staring at the screen. They were dry, but you just powered through, wanting to get this last bit of the project done before you stopped. Once it was done, then you would take a break. That’s what you told yourself.

Of course, it wouldn’t be work without somebody distracting you.

“How’s it gooooing?” Soonyoung sang.

“Do you ever do work?” you asked with zero emotion in your voice.

“Do you ever take breaks?” he shot back. “Don’t you know what day it is?”

“I do, but I need to get this done,” you replied, your eyes flickering back and forth between monitors. “Besides, Wonwoo’s working too.”

“Is he?” Soonyoung asked with a smirk in his voice.

You finally peeled your eyes away from your work to look at Soonyoung’s face in the corner of your screen. As expected, he was smirking at you expectantly, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked with a sigh.

“Go see for yourself,” was all he said before ending the call.

You let out an even deeper, longer sigh as you leaned back in your computer chair, running both hands through your messy hair. Deciding you could just pick up where you left off, you went to go check on Wonwoo like Soonyoung suggested, trudging to the bedroom in your sweatpants and thin t-shirt. However, your bedroom was empty.

“Woo?” you called out.

“Kitchen!” he replied.

You groaned loud enough for him to hear across the small house as you stomped toward the kitchen, “Why are you and Soonyoung doing this to me? I’m almost done with work, and you guys just--”

You stopped when you saw the kitchen lights dimmed, a chocolate cake with the words “Happy One Month Anniversary” written poorly in red gel frosting, and various takeout boxes on the counter. Wonwoo was smiling brightly, gesturing to it all.

“Happy anniversary!” he cheered.

“Oh my god!” you laughed, shaking your head. “Woo, it’s just one month!”

“One month since I told you I love you, and that’s a big milestone for both of us,” he stated proudly as he walked over to you, his hands settling naturally on your hips, “C’mon, let me have an excuse to eat junk, drink alcohol, and get you naked.”

“You just want your dick sucked,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes as his lips pressed against yours.

“Sort of,” he grinned, “but that, among other things. My dick is not the point, ___.”

“Well, thank you for buying all of this food,” you finally sighed, letting him kiss you again. You backed away from him to grab some food since you hadn’t eaten since morning. “I appreciate it.”

After that night that you and Wonwoo confessed to each other, you both just kind of...assumed you were dating. He referred to you as his girlfriend, and you referred to him as your boyfriend. Nobody was really surprised -- to be fair, Wonwoo had told all of your friends about his feelings for you -- but they were definitely happy that you were moving on.

Things were going well, too. You still got anxiety about Wonwoo suddenly getting ripped away from you, but he did everything he could to make you feel better about it. He definitely understood you had separation anxiety after what happened, so he always tried to make you feel like everything would be okay. He had yet to really see how afraid you were -- you never had somehow been able to avoid anxiety attacks around him -- but he knew you were severely worried. But he did manage to make you feel better. You really had to learn to trust him, and you were. So much so that you took off the ring that matched Mingyu’s -- you still wore Mingyu’s on a necklace, but nobody expected you to take it off.

Wonwoo grabbed plates and got you some food before getting his own. As the two of you sat at the counter to eat, you suddenly felt your phone vibrate where you had stashed it away in your pocket. You ignored it, wanting to just spend time with your boyfriend. However, you then heard the security system announce an “intruder”.

“It might just be a package,” Wonwoo shrugged, thought he went to stand up to check anyway.

“Security disarmed,” the system said in it’s female-sounding voice.

Your eyebrows furrowed, knowing only very few people could disarm the system: You, Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Junhui, and Jihoon. However, the next words from the system had your heart stopping completely.

“Person identified: Kim Mingyu.”

Wonwoo whipped his head around to look at you, his expression unreadable. You just stared back wide-eyed until you managed to fumble around in your pocket and fish out your phone. You opened the security app and searched through all the cameras until you saw a figure in tattered clothes, but his head was aimed down. However, the height was the same, and his build almost looked similar to Mingyu -- just thinner than you remembered him.

But...there was no way...

“Stay here,” Wonwoo said before going off to investigate.

He did grab a knife before he left the kitchen, going toward the lounge. But despite Wonwoo’s instructions, you followed behind him, wanting to know who was pretending to be your dead boyfriend.

Wonwoo stalked up to the door right as there was a loud knock. You gripped the back of Wonwoo’s shirt tightly as you poked your head around him to see.

Cautiously, he opened the door, but it was quickly shoved open before being slammed closed behind the intruder. They were panting, and looked afraid with their clothes a dirty, tattered mess, and their face just as dirt-stained and beaten up. However, you still recognized him under all the blood, bruises, cuts, and grime.

“Mingyu?” you breathed out, stepping out from behind Wonwoo.

“Oh god, ___!” Mingyu sighed, already holding his arms out for you.

Without a second thought, you threw yourself into his arms, immediately sobbing into his shoulder. Mingyu just held you -- he definitely felt thinner than you remembered -- enjoying the feeling of having you in his arms again.

“Fuck, I was afraid they got you, too,” he mumbled.

Wonwoo wasn’t really sure what to do -- you were his girlfriend now, but here was the boy you were in love with first -- but Mingyu’s last sentence really caught Wonwoo’s attention, “Who’s ‘they’?”

Mingyu lifted his head to study the unfamiliar boy in his house, but kept his arms around you as you cried, “The pricks that kidnapped me! We need to get out of here; they’ll come find us.”

“W-what?” you pulled away to look up at Mingyu, your face streaked with tears. “H-how did you…?”

“I barely escaped, but I did,” he explained quickly, “but I’ll tell you everything when we get somewhere safe. Call Seungcheol, tell him there’s a code black. I’ll start packing things.”

“I’ll call,” Wonwoo told you as Mingyu pulled away from you to go pack some of your belongings, “you help him.”

Even though Wonwoo was trying to help, you could tell his demeanor shifted. His eyes seemed...sad. But you couldn’t focus on that, you had bigger things to worry about, like everybody making it out alive.

You ran off to help Mingyu pack and delete data from the computers while Wonwoo called in the emergency. Seungcheol was confused as to why there was a code black, but he couldn’t question it when everybody was safe. So Wonwoo was connected to the boss, to whom he explained the situation.

“There’s a safehouse on Jeju Island, inside the city so it’ll be harder for any kidnappers to be discreet,” the boss told Wonwoo. “Delete all data before going to the airport. You’ll have three plane tickets under the name ‘Kim Jisoo’. I’ll have Agent Vernon drop off your fake IDs in one hour, so please be there on time.”

“Three?” Wonwoo questioned.

“You’re also in danger if you live there, Agent Woo,” the boss stated. “You’ll go with Agent Z and Agent Gyu to Jeju; please do not be late.”

With that, he hung up.

Meanwhile, you and Mingyu had come out of the bedroom with duffel bags and backpacks. Mingyu had changed into cleaner clothes -- you had kept a few of Mingyu’s things just because they were your favorite things to steal from his closet. He tossed a bag to Wonwoo before helping you get your jacket on.

“You’re coming, breadstick,” he stated.

“That’s Wonwoo to you,” Wonwoo informed him neutrally.

“What did the boss say?” you asked as you slipped on your sneakers.

“We’re going to Jeju Island, and Vernon will meet us at the airport in an hour,” Wonwoo reported.

“Then let’s get going,” Mingyu said, opening the door and ushering you and Wonwoo out. “The sooner we get to the airport, the safer we’ll be. I’ll drive, you keep ___ safe.”

Mingyu pulled a gun out from the back of his jeans, tossing it to Wonwoo like it was nothing. All Wonwoo did was nod curtly before placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you to the garage under the house.

You knew which car Mingyu would go to since it was “his baby”. It was the fastest car in the garage but you had never touched it since he was kidnapped. But getting back into the car in so long made you nostalgic for the rare midnight drives with him. The car even still smelled like him.

Mingyu got in the front to drive while Wonwoo sat in the back with you, one arm protectively around you. All thoughts of your one month anniversary were gone now that he knew you were possibly in any danger, so all he could focus on were the windows. His eyes were scanning the surroundings carefully while Mingyu peeled out of the garage and left your house behind, pulling onto the road and weaving easily through traffic. He was always amazing at driving.

“So,” Mingyu began as his sharp eyes checked every mirror while also watching the road to make sure nobody was following him, “who’s this?”

“Wonwoo,” you replied as Wonwoo muttered, “Why does it matter?”

You looked up at him, “What does that mean?”

“I think you know what it means, ___,” he said harshly.

“Is he your…?” Mingyu let his question trail off, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.

“Well…” you began slowly, but you knew things would only be made worse with Wonwoo if you didn’t outright say it, and it was better to only deal with an angry Mingyu rather than two angry boys, “yeah; Wonwoo’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Mingyu said flatly, and you noticed his knuckles gripping the wheel tighter.

You groaned, “Jesus, Gyu, can we deal with this when we’re not in danger?!”

“As much as I’d love to get through this awkward situation as soon as possible, I agree,” Wonwoo decided.

“Nobody cares what you think,” Mingyu grumbled.

“Mingyu!” you growled.

“Alright, alright!” he sighed, deciding to drop the topic for now. “But once we’re on that plane, we’re having a talk. All of us.”

After that, the car fell into a tense silence as Mingyu drove to the airport. Thankfully, Wonwoo didn’t seem to see anybody following the three of you, but he refused to let his guard down. That meant all you were left to do was think. Think about how you loved Wonwoo, but you still loved Mingyu. About how you’d have to choose between them but you weren’t sure how that would ever happen because you loved them both just the same.

Mingyu finally pulled into the airport parking lot and went to the trunk to grab all your stuff. Wonwoo helped you out of the backseat and held you close even as Mingyu handed him things to hold. Mingyu stood on your other side, keeping an arm around you almost in a territorial manner as the three of you walked into the airport to find Vernon.

Wonwoo took out his phone to find the information given about where to meet Vernon, “He’ll be waiting by the McDonald’s with Hoshi.”

You heard Mingyu let out a short laugh, so you looked up at him. He was actually cracking a smile, and it made your heart flutter.

God, you missed that smile.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen them,” he said, running his free hand through his matted hair. “They don’t know I’m back, huh?”

“No,” Wonwoo replied, “I haven’t told them. Only the boss knows, unless he told them, too.”

“At least Hansol has to know,” you realized, remembering that it was Hansol that was usually in charge of making fake documents. “If he had to make our IDs, he would need to know Mingyu’s alive if he was asked to make one for him.”

“Can we at least keep the reunion short?” Wonwoo requested as he held the door open for the two of you. “We’ll be safer waiting at the terminal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu replied, waving his free hand. His other hand moved away from your waist to hold your hand tightly. “C’mon, breadstick.”

“For fucks sake, it’s Wonwoo!” he groaned.

Without even having to think about it, your other hand reached behind you to grab onto Wonwoo. He walked closer to you, putting his arm around your shoulder. Your arm went around his waist, your hand fisting his shirt as Mingyu dragged you toward the McDonald’s to meet Vernon and Hoshi.

The two boys weren’t hard to spot. They were standing up against the wall together, talking casually, but their eyes were sweeping the airport in search of the three of you. When they spotted you, Vernon’s face broke out into a smile, and Hoshi looked like he was about to pass out.

Mingyu let out a loud laugh before letting go of your hand to go hug his friends. Wonwoo scoffed beside you, but you weren’t going to feed into his immaturity.

When you reached their little reunion, the three boys were talking and laughing like old college friends meeting at a bar. Vernon’s eyes finally landed on you while Soonyoung was still giggling at Mingyu. Vernon looked confused, and you noticed his gaze had zeroed in on how you and Wonwoo were holding each other. He had seen you and Mingyu holding hands just before the tallest agent had ran over…

But thankfully, Hansol didn’t ask.

“We’ll make sure you’re safe,” he assured you. “I have the passports, and Soonyoung will bring the car to HQ so Mingyu doesn’t have to worry about his baby.”

“Good,” Mingyu nodded with a pout. “Don’t scratch her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Soonyoung smiled, waving away Mingyu’s concerns.

“Here’s your documents,” Hansol said as he distributed them to their respective owners, “and some money.”

Vernon held the back of one of your hands in his palm before placing a wad of money in your hand and closing your fingers around it. He looked deeply into your eyes for a moment, trying to tell you something you couldn’t understand. It was like he was worried for you specifically, and you had a feeling you knew what it was: he was worried you’d be left alone again. He knew you loved Mingyu, and he knew you loved Wonwoo. So the money was for you to take care of yourself more than anything else.

Hansol suddenly pulled you in for a hug, pulling you away from both boys to wrap his arms around you.

“Be safe,” he whispered, “and watch out for yourself. Call if anything happens, and we’ll come get you.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, letting your arms drape around his waist.

He pulled away and hugged the two boys while Soonyoung pulled you into a spine-crushing hug. Once all the goodbyes were done, Hansol dragged Sooyoung off to get Mingyu’s car and get back to HQ. That left your awkward trio alone once again.

“Alright,” Mingyu nodded, “guess we should get going. Do you need anything before we go through security?”

Both boys were looking down at you -- Mingyu really didn’t give a shit if Wonwoo needed anything, and vice versa -- so you shook your head, “No… I’ll relax when we get on the plane.”

“Okay,” Mingyu sighed, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you toward bag check.

Everything went by in a blur. Your bags were taken care of, you got through security no problem -- you trusted Vernon’s skills -- and you were waiting at the terminal in what seemed like a short amount of time. Your head rested on Mingyu, your eyes looking up at him as you couldn’t believe he was here in front of you. He had excused himself to the bathroom to wash up, so you could actually see his skin a lot better. He was a little bit paler, he had some scars you didn’t recall him having before, and he still had some cuts on his face that were healing. He definitely looked tired, but his eyes were hard and determined as he stared straight ahead.

Meanwhile, your hand was in Wonwoo’s, gripping it as tightly as you could. His hand was warm despite the tense situation. He was silent the whole time, only speaking up to ask if you needed anything. But you could tell he didn’t really want to hold your hand since his grip wasn’t as solid as it normally was. It was loose, and he didn’t lace your fingers together. He held your hand like Mingyu liked to hold your hand, but Wonwoo always held your hand with your fingers woven between each other. It just didn’t feel right.

But what did feel right currently? Mingyu was angry, Wonwoo was upset, and you were caught in the middle. Nothing felt right anymore, at least not right now. And you were pretty sure nothing would really feel right after this, either.

You didn’t notice your eyelids drooping as you thought about the two boys beside you. You hadn’t realized you’d dozed off until Mingyu helped you up so you could walk down the terminal and onto the plane. But once you were in the seat between the two boys, you were out once again, and you wouldn’t remember the walk from the airport to the airplane.

Neither of the boys spoke to each other on the plane. Mingyu stared out the window while Wonwoo just stared blankly at the movie playing in front of him. They chose to pretend the other wasn’t there instead of at least trying to be civil. Mingyu hated Wonwoo because he was the new guy, and Wonwoo hated Mingyu because he was the old guy who was supposed to be dead. Both had ruined the others plans.

But then there was you. They were both upset with you: Mingyu was upset that you moved on, and Wonwoo didn’t know why he was upset with you, but he was. You knew deep down that both of them had some harsh feelings toward you, but you were trying to put that conversation off for as long as possible. You were scared they’d both just leave you, and you couldn’t handle that. You lost Mingyu once, you couldn’t lose anybody else anymore.

The plane landed safely in Jeju, and Mingyu gently shook your shoulder while Wonwoo gathered your carry-ons. Wonwoo just carried everything off the plane while Mingyu helped you walk in your sleepy state. A car was ready for you when you got to Jeju, so all you three had to worry about was getting the rest of your belongings from bag check, and following the directions to your new house.

By the time the three of you reached the car, you were wide awake. You helped put bags in the trunk before getting in the backseat with Wonwoo -- he refused to sit near Mingyu -- again. Mingyu just started up the engine and drove to where the GPS told him to, not saying anything to either of you.

It was nighttime, but you couldn’t see the stars here like you did back home. The lights of Jeju City made the stars invisible, and it made you miss your home even more. But you couldn’t focus on that, you had to let the agency know you arrived safely in the city.

You texted Seungcheol to let him know, and he called you immediately after. You put the phone to your ear, guessing exactly what he would say next.

“Vernon and Hoshi said Mingyu’s alive,” he said quickly, though it sounded like a question.

“He is,” you insisted, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “He just...showed up.”

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol breathed. “How is he?”

“Thinner, paler...dirtier,” you listed off, remembering the scars you’d seen on his skin. “He hasn’t said much about what happened, so I can’t tell you anything. Sorry.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s driving.”

“Can you have him call me as soon as he can? But make sure he gets some sleep. The boss will call when you guys get to the house, though.”

“Alright, got it.”

Seungcheol kept the conversation short since he figured you were stressed out and exhausted. But that just left you once again in an awkward silence among the people in the small car. But hey, you’d be living like this for a while, so you might as well get used to it.

The house was small but it had a basement with computers already set up. There was a bedroom on the main floor -- the house was only one floor if you didn’t count the basement -- and a bed in the computer room in the basement. That meant only two beds, and three of you. So somebody was sharing, and you weren’t sure who it was going to be.

Other than the beds, though, there was a bathroom, and a small living room/kitchen. Basically, the house had the bare minimum, but it was really all you needed for now. Besides, the less conspicuous, the better.

All of the bags were dropped on the floor in the basement while Mingyu turned on all the monitors and towers. While he did that, Wonwoo looked around slowly before breaking the silence.

“I guess we should talk about this now, then,” he decided.

“No, we--”

“Good idea,” Mingyu agreed with a way-too-cheery tone. His sharp gaze went straight to you, and you almost flinched. “___, care to tell me why you’re dating someone else?”

You gave Mingyu an incredulous look, “Are...are you serious?”

“I was only gone for a few months!”

“Mingyu, everybody thought you were dead!”

“Oh,” he let out a harsh laugh, “is that why I found this in the nightstand?”

Mingyu’s hand came out of his pocket, holding your promise ring between his index and middle finger. His eyebrows were raised, waiting for your response, but all you did was stare at the ring, every memory with Mingyu suddenly hitting you all at once. You missed him so much it hurt, but all he was doing was accusing you for doing what? Moving on? Not being miserable forever?

All of your emotions escalated into anger.

“Mingyu, you’re acting like a dick!” you burst.

“Me?” he snorted before his expression turned dark. “I was kidnapped and tortured, and you went and found someone new as soon as you could!”

“I waited months, Gyu!” you told him, standing toe-to-toe with him and leaning up to get even more in his face.

“Yeah, she held out hope for a dead guy,” Wonwoo scoffed to himself, but it was still loud enough for both of you to hear.

You looked over at him where his fingertips were running over one of the keyboards, and you saw his eyes roll in the dim glow of the monitors.

“And you,” your anger was now zeroed in on Wonwoo, who looked up at you like he didn’t expect the outburst, “what do you have against me now? Do you think it’s my fault I loved Mingyu before I even knew you existed? Is it my fault Mingyu came back?”

“No, but you have to choose one of us,” Wonwoo stated, trying to avoid making sense of why he was so angry at you. “We both know it has to happen.”

“Ugh, I can’t!” you shouted, your hands slapping against your thighs as your head dropped back and you just stared at the ceiling. You lifted your head to look between the two boys that were surprised by your outburst. “I still love Mingyu, but I love you, too! I-- I can’t help it; I can’t decide!”

“Just admit I’m a second choice, ___,” Wonwoo scoffed.

“Oh, fuck off. You and I both know that’s not true. You reminded me of Mingyu, but you are not Mingyu. I didn’t fall in love with you to get over Mingyu, I fell in love with you for you.”

“Then what am I, huh?” Mingyu chimed in, holding his arms out. “Just the dead boyfriend?”

“Oh, don’t you act like I haven’t been clinging to you since you walked through my door,” you frowned, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “I think we all know how I feel about you, otherwise Wonwoo wouldn’t be acting like a huge fucking baby right now.”

“That’s not--”

“You--”

“You numbskulls do realize we’re all being hunted down by whoever the fuck took Mingyu, right?” you quizzed them, interrupting their arguing. “So until you two can get your goddamn priorities straight, you two can share the bed down here!”

With that, you grabbed your things and marched up the stairs before slamming the door closed behind you, leaving the two boys in a stunned silence.

You didn’t go see either of them for two and a half weeks. You were furious and upset and afraid and confused all at once. All you did was cry and talk to whoever was available to listen to your worries. You knew you should’ve tried to fix things, but you were just so angry with them for worrying over who gets your heart when you could die at any moment. Not only that, but you loved them both. How could you let one of them go?

Slowly, though, you were gathering your thoughts. You were figuring out the best way to go about handling the situation -- with a little help, of course -- and you were mentally preparing yourself to finally go and talk to them. It had been two and a half weeks, anyway, so you figured you should go check on them.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen, anyway?” Hansol had asked through the phone.

“They could both decide to not be with her,” Jihoon deadpanned.

“Technically the worst thing that could happen is that the island explodes,” Seokmin interjected.

“Neither of you are helping,” Hansol sighed.

Jihoon shrugged, “You asked.”

“I’m just gonna go do it before you idiots make it worse...” you grumbled before hanging up from the call and trudging down the stairs.

To your surprise, all was silent.

“U-um...” you didn’t really know what to say, but the sound of your voice made both boys look up from their work, “hello...”

“Wow,” Mingyu was the first to speak up, “I thought you were going to leave us down here to rot.”

“We’d deserve that,” Wonwoo nodded, standing up from his chair. “Are you feeling better, _____?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You guys...aren’t...mad at me anymore?”

“We shouldn’t have gotten upset with you in the first place,” Mingyu admitted with a sigh, standing up as well and going to stand beside Wonwoo in front of you.

“We did some talking and--”

“You talked?” you asked.

Wonwoo chuckled, “Well, after messing with each other for like, a week -- give or take a few days.”

“But we realized we were the jerks,” Mingyu continued.

“And we’re both just afraid of losing you,” Wonwoo admitted.

“So,” Mingyu’s face began to break into a smirk.

You made a face, eyeing the taller boy up and down, “I don’t like the look you’re giving me...”

“Stop that,” Wonwoo scolded, whacking Mingyu in the stomach and making him laugh. Then he turned his attention back to you, looking at you softly. “It’s okay if you love us both.”

Your eyes widened, playing his words over and over in your head, making sure you heard him correctly, “I-it is...?”

“Yeah, only if you’re okay with it,” Mingyu smiled to show you that everything was okay now. He even tossed an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. “We can share, we’re big boys and shit.”

“W-wait,” you stuttered, leaning away to look seriously at Mingyu, and then up at Wonwoo who was watching as his chewed on his lip, “what about...you two?”

Mingyu shrugged, “I mean, I personally don’t get what you see in him, but I think he’s alright.”

Wonwoo playfully scoffed as he brushed Mingyu’s arm off of him, “You’re no prize, either,” he chuckled before turning serious again and looking at you. “We’ll make it work, _____. We know you're afraid of losing both of us, but you won’t have to worry anymore. Neither of us are going anywhere.”

“Yeah, nobody will leave,” Mingyu agreed, walking over to stand behind you, his hands moving to your waist and holding you flush against his body, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, breathing out, “Okay.”

Mingyu’s lips pressed to the skin of your neck, nipping softly and playfully as his thumbs pushed up your shirt just enough for him to touch our skin just above your shorts. You whined and tried to elbow him away.

“Stop, I missed you!” he whined back. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Yeah, but Wonwoo--”

“He can watch, I don’t care,” he chuckled. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you again? The boss could walk in and that wouldn’t mean shit to me.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows twitched upward as he turned to go sit back in his chair, “Yeah, pretend I’m not even here.”

Mingyu cupped your cheek and turned your head to look at him, gently pressing his lips to yours. Mingyu bit down a little harder on your flesh, making you gasp, and he deepened the kiss. But Mingyu was always a little more impatient when he hadn’t seen you in a while, and this time, it had been the longest you’d gone without seeing each other. So he was already trying to tug your shirt off over your head.

“She likes being teased more,” Wonwoo murmured, his eyes scanning his screen as if he wasn’t even paying any attention to the two of you.

Your eyes snapped open again at the sound of his voice, already so lost in Mingyu that you actually kind of did forget his presence.

“I will tease her,” Mingyu pouted, managing to pull your shirt off over your head before throwing it directly at Wonwoo, the clothing landing on the older boy’s head. “Don’t tell me how to fuck my own girlfriend.”

“She’s my girlfriend, too,” Wonwoo reminded him, glancing over at him. “Maybe I should show you how to do thing properly with her since it’s been a while for you.”

You tensed as arousal suddenly shot through you at the thought.

Mingyu smirked as he caught your reaction, “I think she likes the idea.”

“Oh really?” Wonwoo asked, a smirk of his own growing on his face as he slowly stood and walked over to you until he was right in front of you, cupping your jaw. “Would you like that, baby? Do you want me to join you and Mingyu?”

Slowly, you nodded.

Wonwoo leaned down to kiss you, his thumb rubbing softly against your skin. Mingyu brought his attention back to your neck, nipping and sucking and kissing. After a moment, the two men switch spots with Mingyu’s lips on yours. But you soon turned in his arms and your lips went to Mingyu’s neck to nibble on him like he had with you. Your hands moved straight to the waistband of his sweats, slowly pulling them down. Mingyu whined into the kiss -- he hated when you didn’t pull his pants down quickly, and you knew it.

The clothing pooled around his ankles, and you let one hand drift over his boxers as you sucked a mark on Mingyu’s neck. You could feel his member starting to get hard, so you palmed him through the thin material, smirking when he moaned softly. You even heard the older boy chuckle.

But your actions were stopped when you felt a hand on your wrist, tugging your and away from Mingyu’s crotch. You pulled away to see Mingyu staring at you with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t get to tease me, baby. We’re going to tease you.”

Wonwoo smirked immediately, eyeing you up and down, “I kind like that idea. Why don’t you strip for us, baby?”

The two boys moved to sit back in their computer chairs. Wonwoo undid his belt and jeans while Mingyu pulled his half-hard member from his boxers and started to stroke himself. Both pairs of eyes were on you as you stood before them in just a shorts and your bralette.

Your clammy hands moved up to grab your bralette and tug it over your head. You heard Mingyu suck in a breath between his teeth, and when the article of clothing had dropped to the floor, you could see him staring at you through lidded eyes.

“Fuck, I haven’t seen you in so long,” he groaned as his hand stroked up and down his length slowly. “My memory did not do you justice.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Wonwoo agreed as his fist wrapped around his own cock, watching you as he licked his lips.

“You two talk too much,” you smirked, rolling your eyes. “Neither of you know how to just shut up and enjoy a show.”

Mingyu’s eyes slid closed momentarily, “She still loves to talk back, huh?”

Wonwoo let out a low groan, “Y-yeah. I think she likes punishments.”

You were almost completely hypnotized by the boys in front of you that you almost forgot to remove the rest of your clothes. You shimmied out of your shorts before kicking them off to the side, and then you turned around and bent over as you slowly discarded your panties that had your arousal pooling in them.

Wonwoo pointed over to the bed, “Go lay down on your back.”

You did as you were told, swinging your hips as you went. You sat down on the mattress and laid back on your elbows, watching the two boys. Mingyu walked right over to you, taking off his shirt and boxers, tossing the clothing off in a random direction. Wonwoo just watched you as he started discarding his own clothes.

Mingyu eagerly kissed your lips, his hands finding yours and holding them above your head. His lips trailed down lower, his tongue momentarily flicking over one of your nipples before he carried on, going lower as his hands slid down your body. He held your hips in place with one hand while the other parted your legs. He settled between them, his hot breath fanning against your core. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the bed, and Mingyu smirked as he assessed how wet you were.

“You want both of us, hm?” his voice was low and rough as his eyes glanced up at you through his lashes. “C’mon, _____, I know you can speak. Say you want both of us.”

“I want both of you,” you breathed.

“Good girl,” he hummed before pressing his tongue flat against your clit.

You let out a soft moan, trying to push your hips into Mingyu’s face, but he kept his grip on you solid. You went to at least move your hands down to his hair, but you felt the bed dip before you felt strong hands on your wrists. You looked up and saw Wonwoo kneeling beside you, his hands holding yours above you, and his half-hard cock in your face.

“I think the idea was for you to stay where you are,” he mused as you bit your lip, feeling Mingyu’s tongue slip in and out of you. “Maybe you need a distraction.”

Wonwoo used one of his hands to hold his length, lightly tapping the side of your face with it. You opened your mouth, looking up at him with wide eyes because you knew he loved when you looked at him like that. He bit his lip, inhaling sharply.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he grunted, cupping your cheek.

Mingyu looked away from what he was doing to watch you and Wonwoo. Your head bobbed at a slow pace, trying to get him fully erect before you did anything more. You sat up on one arm while your other hand wrapped around the base of Wonwoo’s member. The older boy let out a shaky breath as he watched you before his eyes flickered to Mingyu, meeting his darkened gaze for a moment.

You started taking more of Wonwoo in your mouth, letting him thrust into your mouth as he pleased while his head dropped back, letting out throaty moans. His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, guiding your head to move just how he liked. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, groaning softly.

“Fuck, you’re so good, love,” he mumbled.

Mingyu wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, making you moan around Wonwoo. The vibrations made the older boy moan out louder, and he suddenly pulled himself out of your mouth with a pop.

“I wanna cum inside you,” he said softly, his finger tracing over your jaw. He turned to look at Mingyu, who was still working his tongue against you. “I have an idea. Lay on your back.”

“Since when am I taking orders from you?” Mingyu mumbled, sitting up before crawling to lay on his back beside you.

“Since now,” he replied before he looked at you and nodded toward Mingyu. “I want you to ride him.”

“What do you have planned for yourself, then?” you quizzed as you straddled Mingyu’s hips.

“You’ll see,” Wonwoo sang with a smirk before he got off the bed and walked over to the corner of the room the bags were still dropped in.

As you sank down on Mingyu’s length, you let out a soft moan, enjoying each delicious inch of him. Mingyu just watched you, relishing in the look on your voice, and the noises you made. His hands held your waist, guiding you down onto him.

“You feel so much better than I remember,” he groaned, waiting for you to move. “Fuck, I missed you so fucking much.”

Just as you were adjusted and ready to start moving your hips, you felt something cold against your hole. You sucked in a breath between your teeth, not expecting the sudden coldness.

“Shh, relax,” Wonwoo cooed as he swirled around his finger coated in lube. “Have you done this before?”

“Plenty,” Mingyu replied with a breathy chuckle. “She’ll be okay.”

“So,” Wonwoo began, his voice a little more mischievous than you would’ve liked, “if I did this, then…”

Wonwoo slid his long digit in slowly, leaning around you to watch your face for any signs of discomfort. While your eyes did close, the noises you made were all out of pleasure. You whimpered, but pushed back on his finger, therefore swiveling your hips a bit on Mingyu, causing him to let out a quiet moan.

Wonwoo smirked, “You like that, don’t you? You want more, huh?”

You nodded, biting on your lip.

“Words, baby,” Mingyu told you teasingly.

“I-I want m-more,” you managed to stammer out.

Slowly, Wonwoo added more of his index finger, making sure you were still okay before each move he made. Mingyu was patient about it, not expecting you to move much while Wonwoo stretched you out with more fingers. Just being inside you, watching your expressions, and hearing your moans was enough for him anyway. It had been so long since he was touched at all that even this was amazing to him.

Finally, Wonwoo coated his length in the cold lube before lining his tip up with your hole, “Relax, baby.”

You nodded, feeling his warm hand move down your back before resting on your waist. Carefully, he inserted his cock into you, your eyes squeezing shut as your mouth opened without sound coming out.

Mingyu watched, biting his lip as one of his hands moved down to your clit. His thumb rubbed small circles into the bundle of nerves, and your hips jerked at the sensation. He smirked, nodding to Wonwoo who was looking to Mingyu to see if you were okay.

“Shit, you’re such a good girl for us, _____,” Wonwoo breathed when he was completely buried inside you. “Look how well you take both of us at once.”

The praises motivated you to slowly lift your hips before moving them back down, a low, long moan trailing from your lips. Mingyu groaned out your name quietly while Wonwoo sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” Wonwoo mumbled before slowly thrusting in and out of you in small movements.

Mingyu matched his pace despite the fact he wanted things hard and fast. He knew he wouldn’t last nearly as long as the two of you, but he just wanted to finally cum. But he held back and copied Wonwoo’s movements to bring you the most pleasure.

You’d never felt anything like this before. You’d never felt so full, and the feeling was euphoric. You couldn’t even open your eyes, your nails digging into Mingyu’s chest as he held you close to him. Wonwoo’s hands held your waist tightly as his thrusts became longer and faster, and your moans started to turn into high cries of pleasure.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” Mingyu cooed in your ear as he thrust up into you in between pants and gasps, his thumb still circling your clit. “Are you gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?”

“God, fuck--! Y-yes,” you cried, nodding frantically as you swiveled your hips, chasing your high.

Your need to reach your orgasm had Mingyu releasing without warning, filling you with warmth as his head dropped back. You peeled your eyes open to see his Adams apple bobbed as he groaned out your name, his hips bucking up into yours sporadically.

Wonwoo leaned down slightly, still thrusting into you. You whimpered loudly as your orgasm hit you, your eyes meeting Mingyu’s for a brief moment. Your eyes squeezed shut as your back arched forward and away from Wonwoo’s front that was flush against your back. Your toes curled, and your legs shook from the intensity, everything behind your eyelids going white. You clenched around both boys, making Mingyu cry out softly, and Wonwoo groan deep in his throat.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Wonwoo’s breath was hot on your neck as he praised you through your orgasm.

With a few more thrusts, Wonwoo released into you as well, his arms snaking around your waist and holding you close to him, his face buried in your neck. Mingyu ran one hand through your hair as he rode out his release, his teeth grazing against your bare shoulder.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo panted, gently pulling out of you before rolling over to lay down on his back beside Mingyu. “God, that was… Fuck…”

Mingyu placed a kiss on your jaw before looking up at you, smiling as brightly as he could for somebody was tired out from sex, “You did so well, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You let yourself relax onto Mingyu’s chest, your cheek squished up against his sweaty skin. One of your hands wandered over to Wonwoo, your thumb stroking his cheek as you stared at him.

“I love you,” you mumbled sleepily. “Both of you. I don’t ever want either of you to leave.”

“We won’t,” Wonwoo promised, holding your hand to his cheek as he leaned over to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Neither of us.”

“Promise?” you asked as your eyelids got heavier.

“Promise,” Mingyu mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Promise,” Wonwoo agreed, his smile being the last thing you saw before your eyes closed.

You rubbed your dry eyes, letting your head drop back against your computer chair. You knew you should’ve gone to bed two days ago, but you thought you were on the verge of getting through this firewall. But then there were other obstacles that had popped up, and you kept telling yourself you were almost there. Therefore, you persisted on for three days straight.

Wonwoo wasn’t happy about that, and neither was Mingyu.

“_____!” Mingyu called your name from up the stairs. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Just a sec!” you called back, your hands moving from your face, up to your hair and carding through it.

“No, now!” you heard Wonwoo’s deeper voice shout.

You let out a loud groan, frustrated you had to stop your work when you were -- yet again -- so close to being done. But you knew better than to argue against both of your boyfriends, so you pushed yourself up from your chair and went up the stairs.

The house smelled like food, and you knew Mingyu was trying to teach Wonwoo how to properly cook. Both boys were in the kitchen, bickering as usual. They were facing away from you, looking down at the stove instead. Mingyu seemed to be showing Wonwoo something while the older boy watched beside him, squinting down at the stove like it had just insulted his mother. The two continued to bicker about something Wonwoo didn’t understand about cooking.

“Hey, don’t tell me dinner is ready when it’s not,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest.

Wonwoo turned around, laughing at your expression, “Don’t ‘hey’ me. Dinner is ready, he’s teaching me how to make dessert.”

“But it’s our one year,” you pointed out, sitting at the counter as you waited for Wonwoo to bring over the plates, “I thought we had...not food for dessert.”

“No, that’s still the plan,” Mingyu nodded, untying the apron from his waist, “but he wanted to know how to make something himself.”

You rolled your eyes as Wonwoo placed a plate full of food in front of you, “Woo, you act like you’re a worse cook than you actually are.”

“She has a point,” Mingyu agreed, walking around to the other side of the counter to sit beside you and eat.

Wonwoo shrugged, bringing over the last two plates, “Yeah, but Mingyu’s better.”

As the three of you ate in a comfortable silence, your mind wandered to moving. The three of you were moving into a new house tomorrow that would be larger to accommodate all of your things. Since it had been a year since Mingyu escaped his kidnappers -- he never would tell you exactly what happened, though he did tell Wonwoo, and Mingyu often woke up from nightmares -- the agency deemed it safe for the three of you to move into a better living space. Security would still be tight, and you were going to be living closer to Minghao, who was a pretty decent assassin when he had to be.

“_____, stop that!” Mingyu frowned, his thumb pressing down on the crease formed between your eyebrows.

You looked up at him, “What, stop thinking?”

Wonwoo snorted, covering the lower half of his face with a napkin.

“You’re stressing over moving again,” he sighed. “C’mon, we have everything packed, and nobody is tracking us. Things will be okay.”

Mingyu’s warm hand landed on your knee comfortingly, his ring shining in the light from the kitchen. Then, you felt Wonwoo’s on your other knee, stroking your leg through the fabric of your jeans with his thumb. He had gotten you and him promise rings about six months after that first night the three of you spent together. You looked between the two boys, both giving you looks like just screamed, ‘stop worrying’.

So you sighed and nodded, knowing with both of them with you, things would be okay, “Alright, fine.”

“Good,” Wonwoo smiled before pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

“Well then,” Mingyu sighed, shoving his half-empty plate away, “I’m ready for dessert.”

“We’ve hardly even started eating!” Wonwoo pointed out.

“Just wrap it up,” he shrugged before he stood up. You thought he was going to go get whatever Wonwoo had made, but instead, you were tossed over Mingyu’s shoulder as he said, “I’ll take dessert to go!”

You let out a squeal, “Mingyu, put me down!”

“Yeah, put her down!” Wonwoo agreed, which had Mingyu pausing as he went to walk to the bedroom. But the older boy’s next sentence had him laughing with glee. “We’re supposed to share dessert, remember?”

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lalunaunita · 5 years

Text

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 5

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Music Fanmix by @pennywaltzy

Rating: Teen

Summary: Bruce and Selina go on a lunch date. Selina receives disturbing news. Batman and the Commissioner set a trap for Catwoman.

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 5

Bruce got to the office thirty minutes early, energized by Batman’s morning escapade at the pet shop. He couldn’t get Catwoman’s earnest rage from the night before out of his head. He should have put together the pieces sooner, but to be honest, the plight of stray cats around Gotham City was very low on his radar. The humans of Gotham suffered as much, if not more, than the animals—though he agreed deep down that the need to care for the city’s animals wasn’t diminished by Gotham’s other problems.

Debra looked up from her desk and smiled when she caught Bruce’s eye. Uh oh, thought Bruce. I know that smile.

“I made you an appointment,” Debra sing-songed.

“I’m all booked up for today—er, errands and that sort of thing. Alfred knows,” Bruce answered, trying to glide past his secretary’s desk.

The sanctuary of his office was only ten feet away. He could make it in three seconds.

“It’s a lunch date. Alfred said lunch was clear today. Selina Kyle.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. Debra’s dimple was out in force and couldn’t have been more charming. She held a pen at the ready over her desk calendar. Her voice oozed a false nonchalance.

“Shall I cancel it? For your errands?”

The pen descended quickly . Bruce involuntarily reached out a hand to stop it. Debra was pitiless!

“No! Ah, I mean, no, thank you, Debra. Lunch with Selina sounds nice. I’m surprised she called, honestly.”

Bruce snatched his hand back and stuffed it into the pocket of his well-tailored suit. He felt uncharacteristically nervous. Between Debra and Alfred, he sometimes wondered who exactly was in charge.

“Don’t be. I think the Gotham Cat and Habitat Conservation Society is following up on several of the larger donations; sort of a one-on-one thank-you for your contribution. Or at least that’s what Ms. Kyle said.” Debra shrugged and set down her pen, turning to her computer.

Summarily dismissed, Bruce walked the last few feet to his office; work and a particularly hairy land development issue was waiting for him, after all. He turned at the doorway and looked back, his mouth half open and a half-finished thought on his lips. Debra cocked a suppressive eyebrow at him. He shut his mouth, shook his head, and closed the door behind him.

By the time lunch rolled around, Bruce couldn’t have been more happy about the break. He’d researched both hard and soft copies of Gotham’s property and zoning laws for several hours and was ready to tear his hair out. He knew his legal team had already pored over the pages in depth. But Bruce Wayne was smart too, when he chose to show it, and he certainly was stubborn. A morning spent with dusty old legal volumes wasn’t out of character. He leaned back in his luxurious office chair and scrubbed his hands over his eyes with a sigh. There were absolutely no loopholes. He’d have to pay the piper if he wanted to start residential and commercial development on that land.

Debra buzzed in on his intercom. “Don’t forget your lunch date, Mr. Wayne. Alfred will pick you up in five minutes.”

As if he could! Bruce grinned to himself and rose, smoothing the rumples out of his button-down shirt. He snagged his suit jacket on the way out of the office, gave Debra a conciliatory wink, and got on his way. Unabashed, Debra winked back.

“There he goes—like a bat out of hell when it comes to Selina,” she sighed happily to herself.

Selina’s glossy short locks were easy to pick out among the lunch crowd at The Dark Bite, a trendy downtown restaurant. She was seated outside under the shade of gently swaying branches. Trust Selina to know a spot with natural greenery to brighten the experience, Bruce thought.

She looked up and smiled as he approached.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.

Selina pulled a mock frown. “You’d better not. I’m expecting a high-powered businessman to join me for lunch.”

“I’ll just move over when he arrives,” Bruce assured her and seated himself.

Selina smiled and looked the other way as he removed his suit jacket. An impeccably dressed waiter poured a glass of water, then another of white wine.

“I hope you don’t mind; I chose something ‘summery’ to match the weather,” Selina said, indicating his wineglass with the wave of a hand.

“Sounds perfect,” Bruce agreed.

“So how are you? How’s Alfred? Dick?” Selina asked, once ordering was out of the way.

Bruce sipped his water and leaned back into his rattan chair.

“We’re all in good health. Dick’s a little bored by summer vacation, but he’ll survive. He’s a bit too old for camp now. He needs to find a job.”

Selina let loose a silvery peal of laughter. “You definitely sound like a dad. Are you going to find him something at Wayne Enterprises?”

Bruce shook his head. “Maybe in a few years, but he’s too young and too charming to actually do any work at ‘dad’s’ business for now. They’d let him get away with murder—and he would take full advantage.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Selina chuckled.

“Guilty as charged,” Bruce agreed with a grin.

They paused, comfortable in the lull. A breeze stirred the napkins under their water glasses and sent the leaves overhead into a dizzying swirl. Dappled shadows danced delicately across Selina’s beautiful face. Bruce let his mind wander into territory he scrupulously avoided. Selina’s company was always a delight and left him strangely wanting when he was alone once more. He couldn’t help but wonder how a relationship with her would be. To ask for more—to give more. To see her smile each day, and hear her voice murmur close to his ear. At times like this, he was keenly aware of the shadow of the bat over his shoulder. Its burden felt heavy, its protection thin.

Bruce shook himself and tuned into what Selina was saying.

“...and we’ve put down earnest money to secure the property, and things are just going perfect. The new Gotham Cat Sanctuary should start moving ahead full speed in about a month. Honestly, that’s why we’ve been making the rounds and saying thank you to our donors. It’s such a perfect piece of land, and your contribution came at just the right time. Bruce, I can’t wait to make this place a reality. It’ll have room for all kinds of cats, big or small. State of the art veterinary facilities, specifically designed for feline health. Enough room that we’ll be able to take in new animals indefinitely—which is so important with all the kill shelters here in town! And there are some big cats with strange histories; we find more of them every day. Do you know, down in Texas, there’s a lion in a sanctuary zoo that was owned by a drug dealer? Can you imagine? Those are the kind of animals I want to help.”

Selina’s eyes shone with passion. Bruce stared, mesmerized. Selina was famously unflappable—he should know. He’d been trying to get a rise out of her for years. Her new project had clearly taken over, in the best way.

Her phone rang at the edge of the table. She checked the screen, thin eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Bruce. Do you mind if I take this?” Selina half-rose from her chair.

Bruce inclined his head. Selina pushed away from the table and stepped over to the waist-high wrought iron fence that enclosed the restaurant’s porch. Their food arrived moments after she left, a phenomenon that never seemed to fail in Bruce’s experience. He unrolled his silverware, settled his napkin on his lap, and awaited Selina’s return.

His first clue that something was up was a shift in Selina’s posture as she returned. She still smiled, but it appeared glued in place. Bruce set down his fork, concerned.

“What’s up, Selina?” he asked, trying to peer under her lowered lashes.

She shook her head, chin dipping toward her chest. Bruce leaned forward and reached over with one hand. Her fists were balled up tight, white knuckle tight. He could feel tension thrumming under her thin skin.

“Selina, please tell me,” he murmured.

Her chin trembled a bit as she took a shaky breath. One tear dropped onto the tablecloth.

“The property’s been purchased,” she whispered.

“Oh, no…” Bruce groaned.

Selina nodded, frowning. “Some developer made a better offer. More likely he bribed the right city official. There were no other offers as of this morning! They were going to sign papers with us this afternoon. I can’t believe this.”

Bruce rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, willing her fingers to unclench beneath his own. Selina brought up the edge of her napkin and dabbed at her eyes. She gave a gusty sigh.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I’ve ruined our lunch.” She cast regretful red eyes over the table.

Bruce shook his head forcefully. “Don’t be. Selina, I know we’re not close, but… you can come to me with anything. I’ll always listen.”

Selina gave a tremulous smile. “I know that Bruce, and thank you. And you’re wrong. We are close. We’re just busy.”

“That’s true enough,” Bruce agreed. His heart wavered between a plunge of concern for his friend and a leap at the smile he’d brought back to her face.

They turned to other topics over the meal, but Selina’s bubbly energy never quite rallied. Bruce felt—and compartmentalized—irrational anger at the investors who’d cheated her out of her dream. Not a single call came through on his phone. He knew he had Debra to thank for that.

Inevitably, the time came for Selina to return to her other duties. Bruce didn’t press her for another glass of wine or dessert. She’d stayed pleasant through the meal, but it was clear she needed time to process her disappointment.

He escorted her to the valet and waited as her car was brought up.

“So, have you heard about the recent string of cat thefts in Gotham?” Bruce asked.

He’d stayed well away from mentioning it to anyone, but Gotham PD had broken the story in a news conference just that morning.

Selina stiffened and cocked her head to look at him. “I saw it on the news, yes.”

“It’s such a disparate collection of animals—big cats, a show cat, kittens from a pet store. I wonder what the commonality is,” Bruce mused.

“I trust Gotham PD to handle it,” Selina shrugged. “Or maybe Batman will get involved.”

“Maybe,” agreed Bruce.

Her car ready and running at the curb, Selina turned to Bruce and took his hands. She stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Bruce. For everything. It’s really nice to see you.”

He gave her fingers an extra squeeze and let go. “You too, Selina.”

He watched her drive away, brake lights flashing as she merged with traffic. Alfred pulled up a few seconds later and came around to let Bruce into his vintage black Rolls Royce. Bruce smiled to himself when he noticed the well-trained valets side-eyeing the vehicle. Lost in thought, he strapped in and let Alfred return him to Wayne Industries.

Batman met up with Commissioner Gordon late in the evening at the GCPD Headquarters. Everyone except the beat cops and the front desk on duty had gone home for the day. Things were quiet as Batman slipped into a utility closet window he was familiar with. He didn’t know whether Jim found it unsettling or reassuring that Batman could get into into the GCPD building undetected, but it was always wise to have as much knowledge of a space as possible. From inside, the closet had a simple twist lock. Batman let himself out, careful to check the deserted hallway. Jim’s office was three doors away.

He noted first the noises coming from a cat carrier on Commissioner Gordon’s desk. Someone was protesting their incarceration.

“Ruffy, I presume?” asked Batman from the doorway.

“Oh! Batman! Do you always have to sneak up like that?” Commissioner Gordon grabbed at his heart as he looked up with wide eyes.

“Sorry, Jim. Force of habit.” Batman came up to the desk and peered into Ruffy’s carrier. “You’re a handsome fellow. Ready to serve your city, Ruffy?”

The tiny white cat meowed a question in return.

Jim rolled his eyes as he removed Ruffy from the cage. “Needy little thing. I can’t deny I love him, though. He’s a good cat.”

He held his pet up high as Batman pulled a thin collar outfitted with a location transmitter from his bat belt. He placed it around Ruffy’s neck and buckled it.

“Now, you’re sure the collar is secure?” Commissioner Gordon asked.

“You won’t lose Ruffy—that’s a promise. I’ll take good care of him,” answered Batman.

Commissioner Gordon gave Ruffy’s ears one last scratch, then deposited him into Batman’s waiting gloves. Ruffy revved up his purr. The Commissioner fixed the little cat with a droll expression.

“Well! Would you look at that! How quickly I’m replaced,” commented the Commissioner.

“Makes my job all the easier,” Batman chuckled.

He didn’t mention the catnip hidden in one pocket of his belt. Batman hitched Ruffy into an underarm carry and shook hands with Commissioner Gordon. He opened a window and ducked out under the panes of glass. The night air was cool and pleasant. Little Ruffy’s whiskers twitched as he sniffed about curiously.

“If my suspicions are right, I’ll have him back to you in less than a day, Jim. Thanks for volunteering Ruffy.”

Commissioner Gordon gave a final nod. He stepped back as Batman fired his grappling hook and swung away.

A few blocks away, Batman dropped down into an unnamed alley and remotely opened the Batmobile. Ruffy leapt right in and settled himself to one side of Batman’s centered seat. Batman shook his head.

“I’d almost think you understand what we’re up to. Or maybe it’s just the catnip,” he told the cat.

Batman and Ruffy drove to the edge of town and stopped at a deserted block. The area was somewhat known for being Catwoman’s haunt, although of course no one knew her actual location. Glimpses and sightings, amounting to little more than urban legend, were Batman’s main body of evidence. He was reduced to hoping it was true—and hoping she was not watching from the shadows. Batman cast a keen eye all around as the translucent carapace of the Batmobile slid back. Not a single shadow stirred.

“Alright, Ruffy. This is it. Do the Commissioner proud,” said Batman.

He exited the vehicle and picked Ruffy up. He deposited the small cat in an unassuming alley with a surprisingly decent amount of trash. The area was known for non-violent squatters. As a result, Batman hardly ever visited it. Thieves and murderers were more his concern. He pressed a hidden button on the side of Ruffy’s collar, then let the cat go.

Ruffy immediately took off down the alley to explore. Batman felt a twinge of concern. Ruffy was a pampered housecat, not a tough, feral stray. If he got in a fight, he could literally be eaten alive. Batman had already noted the absence of other strays—just like the alley near the pet shop. Hopefully Ruffy wouldn’t encounter another cat at all.

Batman leapt back into the Batmobile and sped away. He had a hiding spot or two even in this part of town. He parked not far from Ruffy’s alley and turned off the vehicle. Ruffy’s locator pinged on the Batmobile’s display and the readout of his vital signs was normal. Batman settled in for the night. He was officially on a stakeout.

#llua writes #the purrfect crime #batman #bruce wayne #selina kyle #catwoman

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poeticsandaliens · 5 years

Text

Sea people

Pairing: Jenny Shepard/Kate Todd (NCIS)

Rating: G (somehow...)

Summary: A weird out-of-context life story. Five pivotal moments in Kate’s life, with a side of poetics. I don’t know what happened to me; I wrote this all in one night out of literally nowhere. It’s a very odd headcanon, and I have no clue how it came about. By product of spending all afternoon on a beach watching strangers go about their lives and boats pass by. I partly blame @loumillerlesbian for putting this pairing in my head. Cheers.

Jenny is shot on Thursday. Two small scraps of metal bursts in her side; someone with a gun decides she must be cut like a flank steak, but as it turns out raging men with pistols don’t have the best aim.

So there she is, bright and snarky in the hospital on Friday morning, insisting that she’s fine; she can go home now; it only grazed her. She’s right. It only grazed her. But because it was a bullet, they keep her all day. Kate sits next to her as she sleeps off the pain, holding a magazine in one hand and Jenny’s fingers in the other, to be sure she’s not a ghost.

Kate’s parents call as she drives home Jenny, loopy on anesthesia. They ask when she’ll settle down, when they’ll get a wedding invitation or a pregnancy announcement, and they’re okay with getting both at the same time (they’re not). They ask if she’s met someone, and she says, “yes” to make them happy, doesn’t tell them it’s Jenny. Jennifer Shepard, the Director, the lover, the gauze-wrapped woman whose blood is almost as red as her hair.

Jenny was a mermaid-child. Kate never would’ve guessed, but in hindsight, it makes sense. She had an Army Colonel father and a Boston-Irish mother and an inheritance so old that no one remembers who died for her family to get it. She lived her summers in a pale blue A-frame in the Hamptons, learning how to fish for things bigger than her, how to pilot a boat, how to spot a lighthouse through the fog.

She hasn’t been back since her father died, but Kate feels a welling of something watching her stride barefoot down the beach. She kicks at the water, and when it dries salt sparkles on her skin. Mermaid-child.

Later, she takes them onto the water. Jenny wears more white here, and more green, clothes that flap in the wind, that Kate has never seen before but wouldn’t belong to anyone else. Kate can feel age-old calluses finally earning their keep when Jenny touches her palm, presses a faded rope into her hands and tells her to haul the sails. Kate kisses her in lieu of an “aye, Captain.” She can’t help it, not when Jenny’s freckles are starting show again, not when she grins like that—the crooked dimpled grin of a Siren finally coming home.

Kate wanders into the bullpen Monday morning tanned from the Virginia summer, with special-occasion liquors in her throat and a soft, gold engagement ring she can’t decide whether to hide or show off.

They never told anyone when they kissed beneath the porch light of a Mediterranean restaurant. At first, Kate was worried about Tony’s smarmy remarks, Jenny about the judging faces. They both had to face the wolves, but Jenny’s were dressed in fine suits. Then it began to feel as though they’d spoil something by telling anyone, like they’d bring a spell of bad luck.

Gibbs found out. She’s still not sure how, but she wasn’t surprised. If he cared, he didn’t show it. She suspected he had, at first, but that he hadn’t talked to her until he got over it. Gibbs was smart that way. Despite being the poster boy for Roman stoicism, he was damned nostalgic. He harbored any number of feelings; he just didn’t address them to anybody else. It hadn’t helped him, but it wasn’t wrong.

Tony’s eyes light up the minute they spot the gold band on her finger. He doesn’t get enough credit for his detective’s eyes, but that’s because he abuses his powers. “You finally going to tell us about your mysterious swain, Kate, or are you going to marry him in secret and hide him from us until you die?”

She leans forward with a sweet little smile and rests her chin on her palms. “You wanna know about my swain Tony?” McGee, to his credit, is at least pretending not to listen, but Tony is utterly intrigued.

A wicked look crosses his face, and Kate knows the day will end with her putting him in a headlock at the gym. “Kate, do tell me—”

“Something on your mind?” Jenny appears behind the desk, and Tony jumps out of his chair.

“No! Nothing. Gah,” he mutters. When he looks up— “Morning, Director. I was just congratulating Agent Todd. Her mystery man seems to have proposed.”

Jenny cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, I know,” she says mildly. Only Kate catches the smirk. She shrugs, meets Jenny’s eyes. Good a time as any.

Tony, for his part, is all insult and melodrama. “You already knew?” He turns to Kate. “Why would tell the Director before me?”

Jenny rolls her eyes. “Because I’m the one who put it there, Dinozzo.” She pats his shoulder and drops a couple of files on his desk, then struts back up the staircase.

Tony is quiet. Kate ignores him and goes back to her work. Better to enjoy the silence now. He’ll be full of boyish, obnoxious questions later.

They marry quietly, not in the church Kate always imagined she’d get married in, or the sailboat Jenny dreamed of as a child. No, they marry in the soft grass of Jenny’s brownstone, on an underwhelming Monday in July. Ducky officiates, because he’s Ducky and of course he has an officiant’s license. Everyone brings a dish; Gibbs brings bourbon. It’s the first time she’s seen him really smile, so you can see the crows’ feet on his eyes and the spark of youth in him.

Jenny looks something medieval, resplendent in green like a shieldmaiden or a sharper Titania. Kate’s mother once told her, when she was seven, you don’t have to be a woman right now. You’ll know when you are.

Until now, she’d forgotten it. It wasn’t as if she’d waited for womanhood to hit her like a brick to the head. She’d sailed through her adolescence and into her Secret Service career, but she knows she’s a woman when she stands in a white tea-dress in the quiet suburb of Georgetown and meets Jenny’s eyes.

It is a hazy August in the Hamptons, when a sailboat crashes into the black cliffs. The summer their son is born, that’s how Kate remembers it, because she remembers his little feet against her palm, and she remembers her arms wrapped around Jenny’s waist, holding them fast against the wind like teaching her to fly. Mer-creature, unused to babies or wings.

The boat tears into shore on a clear day, that’s the strangest part of it. Not a cloud in the sky. They are walking the shore, just below Jenny’s family A-frame—Kate and Jenny and the unborn baby, and Jenny’s mother who has cancer but won’t admit it. Fisherman line the water, talking in an English Kate doesn’t understand, never will. Jenny might have, once, on a boat with her father.

A man pilots a white sailboat. It flaps erratically in the distance, and Jenny notices first—Jenny, who knows how to raise a canvas in monsoon season. It’s age-old knowledge, Jenny said; no matter how long she spends in DC, in her desert-orange office, she won’t forget how to sail.

She’d told Kate that when they were sitting in a hospital waiting room. Tony was inside this time, having a knife wound stitched up by a pretty nurse. She’d told Kate she would never forget how a canvas looks in a full gust; then she’d offered to carry the baby. Because Tony was inside with a stab wound, she said.

“Well Dinozzo wasn’t going to have our kid.” But she was afraid Jenny would say that. Afraid, because Jenny was also Jen Shepard, the Director, and Kate was the only person anyone had imagined would carry their child. But Kate knew the risks of fieldwork, and she loved what she did. She was restless, forever a detective. Jenny was restless too, but of the mind.

So it was settled, in a way no one but Kate saw coming.

And by summer, they are standing on a Hamptons beach, spending their comp time on a surreal leave, and the winds have left them rosy and cool. Kate can’t take her eyes off of Jenny, softened by pregnancy but weathered by the sea air. She holds onto her hand like a mooring. In the distance, a man pilots a white sailboat, out of control toward the shore.

The crash is quieter than Kate imagined. The boat careens the way she never thought a sailboat could be, like the hand of Poseidon is pushing it mercilessly along. Canvas wraps around the rocks like an overnight tattoo; crafted wood is smashed against driftwood, and the captain dies without a sound.

When they give their statements to the police, Kate doesn’t realize she’s holding onto the baby. (Jenny will tell her, later, because she’s candid about that kind of thing.) They talk about it half like a crime scene and half like a novella tragedy.

The coroners pull up in a banana-yellow van. “He was drunk,” they conclude, “on Sauvignon.”

It is absurd. Jenny watches them load the pilot into the back of the van, arms crossed over her chest like Kate has seen her do at Ducky’s autopsy table.

Jenny’s mother says, “I’ll get better you know.”

And their son is born that night.

#ncis #ncis fanfic #Jenny Shepard #kate todd #kate x jenny #5 headcanons #I don't know how this happened

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olboypacman · 5 years

Text

Caught

Fresh out of a reconnaissance mission, tensions reach a fevered pitch between Starfire and her partner. Who's his partner you ask? None other than Jaycee Todd, a.k.a Red X. RedxStar, Rule 63. Request by ObeliskX. Some suggestive themes.

****

What in X’Hal’s name hell was Nightwing thinking!? Thinks Starfire. Pairing me off with that zarbnarf!

“All things considered, you do clean-up pretty nice, Kory.” Said Starfire’s partner, complementing his look for the night. He’s wearing a fitted suit; navy-blue pants and suit jacket with a white dress shirt. On his feet are polished dress shoes. His usual orange-tan skin concealed by a holo ring.

Starfire looks to her companion, that stupid, alluring, condescending smirk on her face as she follows him down the dimly pathways of Jump City’s waterfront.

She’s dressed in a black cocktail dress, the length of which is about one quarter the way to her knees. Her toned, shapely, cream colored legs on display for any who cares to look in her direction. Her look is completed by black high heeled platforms, the design of them making it look like she has a collection of straps on her feet.

She flips her shoulder length black hair, her blue eyes hidden behind a pair of black framed glasses. “You can’t stay mad forever, Kory.”

Red-X A.K.A, Jaycee Todd.

There’s been an influx drugs coming from the docks recently. Nightwing being the natural detective she is, had started to build a case against the supposed traffickers. Her most recent activity in this case had been surveillance. For that she needed a few teammates. Unfortunately, this drug case had basically been the only thing worth the Titans time outside of a few robberies here and there. As a result of that, Cyborg, Beast Girl and Raven were indisposed, training a rookie Titans team in the south. And Nightwing herself was chasing another lead tonight. She needed at least two other people for this mission.

Fortunately, Starfire and Jaycee had been talking recently (Jay had highjacked the frequencies of the Titan communicators), much to Nightwing’s chagrin.

They’d often talk about mundane things, gossip about who they don’t like in the hero community, and flirt.

Well, Jay would flirt anyway.

Kory wasn’t exactly sure who to feel.

Though, if Kory were to be honest with himself, he would admit he didn’t mind the flirting.

He saw his ex-girlfriend’s desperation and recommended Jay for this assignment.

Never mind the part about her being Red X, a criminal.

“Reformed criminal. The criminal part being alleged, of course. Not that you could ever prove anything, Chuckles. I perform security consultations these days. Some clients maybe of the unsavory sort, but their checks usually clear, so whatever.” She had corrected.

It wasn’t difficult to convince her either.

A hefty retainer, a tall, red-haired hottie on her arm and a chance to screw with Rachel Grayson is always good fun.

Their actual mission was to ID a few members of this supposed cartel. The intel that Rachel had gathered had stated there was an upper-echelon club on the waterfront that high-ranking members of that drug outfit had frequented. Kory was to be back-up in case something happened, and Jay was supposed to snap pictures of the members of this supposed cartel through a camera built into a pair of glasses.

Simple.

They could’ve achieved the same thing using Raven’s abilities much more discreetly had he been available.

That way, the grief of dealing with Jaycee could’ve been saved.

Even the city police could’ve done this in Kory’s estimation.

The Jump police department had gotten complacent due to the Titans handling most major crimes these days. Hell, a criminal would have to be really good or really stupid to think they can set up shop in this town, considering the team of heroes that acted as it’s guardians.

And considering all Jay had to do was bat her eyelashes at a few of the supposed lieutenants in this operation, Kory's betting on the latter.

And a chat few times a genuine smile had found its way onto Jay’s face.

It was most stunning, thought Starfire.

Jay rounds in front of him walking backwards, “Listen! I know you’re upset, but at least you can stop ignoring me.”

Kory grimaces, practically snarling at the dark-haired woman in front of him. He stops, the young woman following suit. “You complained to security, multiple times, that, and I quote, ‘some long-haired creep is following me around.’ How should I feel right now, Jay?”

She steps closer to him playing with the buttons of his shirt. “You should feel good. We’ve completed the mission. And you’re going home with a beautiful girl.”

Star responds by slapping the young woman’s hands away from his chest, as they continue toward the parking spaces.

“Fine!” Yells Jay, “I apologized, but if that’s not good enough for you, screw it you jackass! Excuse me for trying to have fun.” She finished with fire in her eyes.

“By having me kicked of the club! What if something happened and you needed my help!” Said Starfire, almost screaming at her.

“Aww, so you care about lil’ ol’ me?” Said Jay, batting her eye lids playfully at the Tamaranean.

He sighs, pitifully, as they stop in front of their vehicle. “X’Hal, why have you punished me with by being acquainted with the most frustrating women.” Said Star.

“Oh, I’m frustrating?”

“Yes, you and your sister.”

“Well it’s better than being a naive boy scout.”

“Clorbag.”

Jay scoffs at him, grabs him by his shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

He responds wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

They break their lip lock, resting their foreheads against each other. Kory sighs once more, “To answer your question, I do.”

“I knew it,” Said Jay, her genuine smile spreading across her face. “Took you long enough to realize it, cutie.”

A blush spread across his face, “Well, what about you? How do you feel about me?” He asked sheepishly.

She laughs, still being held closely to him, “I know you’re on the naïve side, Kory. But you can’t possibly be this dense! This mission? This dress? The flirting? That kiss?”

A silence sits between the two for a few moments.

Jaycee piteously shakes her head.

Starfire finally gets a clue and asks, “So, what now?”

“Same thing you and Rachel did when you confessed to each other.”

“How did you- Never mind, but here, on the pier. What if someone see us?”

“You hero types are so stuffy.” Muttered Jay. “Is this our car?” She asked, pointing at a black SUV.

Kory nods in the affirmative.

“Great!” She gives the Tamaranean a shove, his back hitting the front of the vehicle.

He lets out an “oof” on impact. But before he can catch his breath, Jay’s on him taking it in a kiss, pulling him down by his neck.

He responds by closing his arm around her form

Jay is soft and almost wispy in his arms, her kisses igniting a growing warmth in his chest.

Her hands snake their way up into his hair as she turns her head deepening the kiss.

His hands start to creep down her body, finding the bottom of her dress. He starts to hike it up…

“OK, break it up you two,” ordered a JCPD officer, flashing his light on the two.

They’d been so caught up in each they didn’t realize they’ve attracted an audience of about a dozen or so.

Apparently late Saturday nights on the pier are when the exhibitionists come out, but they can’t really complain considering they chose to ignore the nice roomy backseat in the vehicle they were situated on.

Oh, well.

They both start to get themselves in order, straightening their hair, smoothing out wrinkles on their clothes and pull articles of clothing back into place.

There are murmurs of, “Isn’t that Jaycee Todd?” “Who’s that red head she’s with?”, along with mentions of Brianna Wayne and Rachel Grayson.

“What seems to be the problem officer?” Asked Jay, as finished pulling herself together.

The officer scratches his head, obviously embarrassed at the situation, “The manager of bar down the way called about a young lady leaving with a strange man fitting you guy’s description. Said something about the man having multiple run-ins with security. Looks like they might’ve been mistaken. Carry on. After you two make it home of course.”

The officer’s goes on his way.

“Rachel’s going to kill us.” Said Kory, noticing all the phones pointed at them.

“I’ll take care of her, don’t you worry, cutie,” she responded as grabbed his hand.

****

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“I’m going to kill him,” muttered an irate Nightwing as she banged on Kory’s door.

The door hisses open.

Just as Rachel is about to explode on Kory, she takes in the sight of her sister in what Rachel surmises to be Kory’s dress shirt from last night, her hair disheveled, and love bites up and down her neck.

“Grayson,” said Jay, “what the actual fuck!? It is way too early to be banging on doors. Some of us had long night.”

Blinking behind the lenses of her mask, she regains her briefly forgone rage. “Oh, I bet you did,” Rachel yelled back at her, as she shoved a tablet in her face.

“What’s this?” Said Jaycee. She takes in what’s on screen of the tablet.

It’s a story on the Jump City Gazette’s website, the subject being a budding romance between Jaycee Todd and an as of the article’s publishing a young man who’s yet to be id’d by the newspaper.

The picture is of Kory with a nervous smile on his face huddling Jay into the passenger seat of a black SUV with the biggest smile on her face as she waives at the camera.

“Oh that, fun mission.” said Jay, nonchalantly, smile forming on her lips.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What? I did the job what you paid me for, like the professional I am. Plus I’m in whirlwind romance with a cute, interesting and formerly single guy.” She then produces the glasses used in last night’s mission and hands them to Nightwing, “You’re welcome by the way.”

“You know what, forget it.” Said Rachel. She starts to walk away, but then stops herself. “Listen, I thank you for what you did for me last night, but what game are you playing with Kory? Tamaraneans don’t love lightly, you know.”

“It’s no game, and I’m aware of what I’m getting into. It’s like I said, he’s good looking and fascinating guy, and as far as love. I think it might be too soon to say all that.”

“Despite how things have been since we parted last year, he’s still a very dear friend. I’m just looking out for him.”

“Yeah sis, message received. Our boy’s in good hands. Sleeps like a rock though,” she said looking back to Kory’s resting form, fondly. “A tall, attentive, well endowed-“

“Jesus Jay!” Yelled Nightwing.

“What, don’t act like you don’t know!”

“Fine, fine whatever. I’ll leave you two to, whatever you were about to do. Thank God Vickie soundproofed all the rooms. She muttered as she walked away.

Jaycee leaves the threshold, letting the door hiss shut as she walks back to bed.

She takes her spot next to Kory, lying her head on his chest.

His arms tighten around body.

She sighs in contentment.

“Weren’t to loud, were we.” She asked him.

“Compared to lasted night, you were like the kitten walking on cotton,” He responded.

****

Read this and more @https://www.fanfiction.net/~olboypacman

#Teen Titans #startfire x red x #starxred #red x #starfire #Jason Todd #Rule 63 #R63 #fanfic #fanfiction #FF.net

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 5 years

Link

WARNING : Graphic description of Blood and Violence. Gore.

And Not Beta Read. Sorry if there’s a mistake.

Click link to read on AO3. Click Keep Reading to read on tumblr~~

Chapter 1 2 4

Chapter 3

Word Count : 4k

The night is as dark as always in Bludhaven, the familiar crime and poverty earned her the nickname ‘Gotham’s sister City’. A man in a suit and long khaki trench coat steps down the stairs to the subway where only a few people are waiting for the train. Despite walking in the poorly lit halls at night, the man wears a vintage sunglasses with metal frames. The man is odd, not because of his fashion sense, but the man is chewing a match on his front teeth like a hillbilly with hay. Yet, even so, the citizen of Bludhaven doesn’t bat an eye.

He enters the employees only room, an old woman announcer is sitting there lethargically, with a uniform too tight for her plump body. Her veined eyeballs looking at the screen of train maps and schedule before she tore her empty gaze away towards the man with a knowing look. The man slides an envelope and waits for the announcer to look at what’s inside. When the lady smiles in satisfaction, she nods to the employee’s only exit.

The man goes through there, and it leads to the path beside the train tracks. It’s not really a path, more like a small gap between the tunnel wall and the train track. The man’s shoulder barely fit in that gap. The tunnel is void of any light the further he walks, and the man lits up the match from his mouth to light the rest of the way. The train will pass in about a minute, that’s the window for the man to find an opening along his side of the wall of this tunnel. But he relies on Bludhaven’s tendency to delay trains for more window.

He walks and walks, lit many matches, he should’ve brought a flashlight. Thirty minutes in, he finally hears a faint voice of engine and pistons running growing closer. When the train’s light from far away is finally visible, the man sprints and slips inside the opening he’s been looking for. The fire on the match on his hand is blown off by the gush of wind the train brought as it passes through.

The man walks deeper into the crack in the wall, it smells of rodents dropping, musty with mold and eerily damp. There’s no light in that path, but the man somehow never trips.

Finally, there’s a light at the end of the path. A body in a red uniform and tattered black cape laying in the middle of the room. The only light source there is a strong beam of spotlight forming a circle surrounding what it seems to be Red Robin’s body.

The man paused after recognizing the body, mortified at the body’s condition laid on top a pool of red and runs towards the open room. He manages to step twice into the room before a hard hit lands on the back of his head. His feet manage to land, but not enough balance to root to the ground. In addition, his vision is spinning from the hit and he falls to the concrete ground in a loud echoing thud.

A loud shrill laugh breaks the eerie silence of the room. The laugh that had terrorized all men of the world in fear. Came into view to the man’s blurry vision, even with his now cracked black tinted sunglasses, the man can see a pair of green loafers drenched in blood steps in front of him. Beside those shoes, is a crowbar also drenched in blood, some red and some had dried to brown.

The man looks up, knowing it must’ve what he wants, and see a man with pale skin void of life that it’s completely porcelain white, and a big smear of red on his lips painted like a smile all the way to his cheeks. His synthetic green hair matches his small pupils. His purple suit with a yellow shirt underneath is drenched in sweat and splattered with blood, but it’s still tidy as if it’s his last effort to be presentable. It’s a clown that everybody knew, and his famous trademark smile spread disturbingly wide.

“I hear from my little mice, that your pretty little bird with sky blue eyes and raven black hair had been asking around about me~” the clown sings, walking around the man while dragging the wet crowbar that creates a thin red line.

“You naughty naughty bat, I prepared a game for you, a little treasure hunt. There were surprises for you to find on each clue you find, I worked hard for it you know? You’re not being fair!” The clown screams angrily, he’s frowning lips look disturbing on top of his permanent smile.

“I’M NOT EVEN DONE WITH YOUR PRESENT YET HOW DARE YOU.”

He slams the end of the crowbar to the man’s right leg, hitting it repeatedly until there’s a crack under the flesh. The man still stubbornly holds back and deeply growls between his clenched teeth.

“WHAT? Too proud to scream? Well...you sure know how to make me feel all tingly inside hehehe...” The clown pants hard until saliva drools from his mouth, “I never hear you scream, always so composed...” Another strong merciless smash landed on the man’s right leg, his teeth dug into his lips.

Then Joker misses his leg and bends the crowbar.

“Aw shucks! I gotta amp things up then! I know just the perfect thing!” The clown runs into the dark and quickly returns with a steel spiked club.

“SCREAM BATSY!” The clown screeched and pounds his right leg with the club.

Each hit sends the man an excruciating pain, the sound of metal against his flesh and bone makes the man sick. The Joker never looks away from his face, as if looking forward to his arrays of expression while his own is twisted into a depraved smile and laugh, panting almost like in lust. Blood from his leg spurts everywhere and formed an arch whenever he lifts the club.

The man bites into his palm to hold back his voice. The Joker doesn’t stop until the sound of a loud and distinct crack. When the man looks down he sees a bone sticking out in the middle of his calf.

The Joker pants happily and gave one last and hard swing until the man’s calf completely bends. The clown fixed his purple suit and comb back the strayed green strands of his hair.

The man reduced into a shaking mess, his hands are twitching from the pulsing pain in his leg.

“Well, color me impressed, you’re one stubborn bastard aren’t cha? I’ll let it pass cuz I love ya batsy~ And I bet yer beautiful blue bird is on the way here now, but not to worry!” The clown cheered. “My good little pumpkin pie’s gonna take care of ‘em good, but still! We got a schedule to get on,” the clown growls excitedly, and screech another shrill laugh.

“I hated that outfit though, I never liked those fake mustache... I wish for my darling Batman, not Matches Malone!” The Joker rambles and huffed like a little child.

The man finally gains his senses and has his eyes are on Red Robin. The teen vigilante barely moves, and only now the man sees the pool of blood surrounding him. The suit is tattered and ripped. His black hair hides his face and the parts where the face shows in swollen and blue.

“Oh... don’t worry about your red bird, as I said, I wasn’t done yet,” The joker shrugged, then smirks wickedly. “Wait, this is actually better, I know the perfect thing for our little bonding time. You, me, and the kid, like a beautiful family.” Joker sings endearingly, sending the man’s goosebumps on his spine.

“Time for a second round of... You scream You lose!”

Joker stands beside the limp and tattered body of Red Robin, stepping into the pool of blood that grows wider.

“What are you waiting for Brucie?” The clown raises the crowbar and swings it towards the body on the floor.

Before Joker can manage to hit Red Robin’s body, he’s pushed back by the force of two bullets hitting him on each thigh. Laying on the floor, the clown is stunned at the hi wound.

“That’s... that’s real bullets.”

There’s a pregnant pause between them, until the clown screams, not in pain, but laugh in excitement.

“AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA YES! FINALLY! Oh, dear Batsy... You finally snap!!” the Joker moans disturbingly, saliva running down his smiling lips, leaving a red trail down his pale neck.

The man lies frozen in the dark, away from the spotlight where the Joker lies bleeding beside Red Robin. His hand on the gun was and still shaking, but somehow still hit the mark.

The Joker extends his hand to the man, Matches Malone, and gesture him to come into the light.

“Come! Come into the light... I want to see your face when you kill me...” The Joker giggles, “Come, please! For me Batsy... let me see your cold-blooded face before you kill me... COME ON!” The Jokers screams in impatience, still smiling ecstatically.

“Show me your shaking faith, I want to see you break,” Joker moaned.

Matches Malone, with fire in his heart, grunts lowly as his left shaking hand perch onto the concrete ground in the light. As much as he can, while only counting on friction between his palm and the ground, drags himself into the spotlight.

Finally, the man lets out his voice, “I’m not Batsy.”

The smile on the clown’s face twisted into disgusted confusion. Eyes open wide in anger, showing the veined red eyeballs. The Joker tried to move his legs, but he can’t.

“Wait--”

Is the last word of the clown before two bullets lands between those toxic green pupils.

++++++++++

Everyone in the poor side of Gotham knows Matches Malone, but there’s an unwritten rule for the bottom feeders to not speak of the name to just anyone. The man remains a myth. It was told that the man is a gang member, but he helps the people around him in obscure gestures for reason unknown. Handing a hundred dollar bills to beggars, blankets, food, even doctor appointments under a made-up name. People in crime alley hides those good deeds of him from other gang members, afraid they would kill Malone that provides for them. The people kept him alive for selfish reasons.

Jason was one of those people at one point in his life.

He remembers his characteristic. His height, hair, sense of fashion, and the match between his lips that made him earn the name Matches Malone.

And from Tim’s stories, he also knew that Matches Malone is Bruce Wayne.

Jason asked around, hiding his face, but not too much. He heard how Richard Grayson speaks from many interviews he’s done on TV, as Dick Grayson the son of Wayne, the cop, and Nightwing. The same black hair and blue eyes is a good little luck that eases Jason’s effort.

Jason knows how to differentiate the real civilians, the ones that pretend, and the ones that are both, that knowledge is for basic survival for Jason who grew up behind the dirty backstage of Gotham’s bright stage.

Talk to the right person with the right words and let it travels to the right man. Not all of them though, too much info then it’ll be known that the one chasing the captors doesn’t have a supercomputer. That’s where anesthesia and garbage bins play their part.

Not only his dark hair and blue eyes, but his frame also came in handy. In the past years, his body had bulked up in weight and shoots up in height. He dressed in rental suits and coats, slick his hair back and chewed a match between his front teeth. When he looks in the mirror, it’s like looking at the past when that man gave him a burger to eat and to go.

After asking around, Jason hears about a ‘meeting’ by Bludhaven’s hidden warehouse. He’s been told about ‘someone’ having a business deal with ‘Cal Corcoran’. Jason already knew it was the Joker, only he can make the people he speaks with trembles in fear and utmost secrecy, the ones that are not his men at least.

Jason almost snaps when he sees Tim on the spotlight of the room at the end of the pathway. His heart hammers against his ribs hard enough to feel like it’s bruising. But he knows there’s a reason why Tim is presented that way, and why no one else is visible in that room but Tim. Jason can’t see anyone in that room, not even a silhouette. Means that if there’s someone there, it’s gotta be right beside the opening of that path.

Jason runs anyway, and anticipate the hit on the back of his head. He knocks his head to the front a little to reduce the force coming onto the back of his head.

He wants to reach out for Tim. His Red Robin suit is in tatters, so many cuts on his lean body, and he only got a peek on his face between his damp black hair covering it. There’s so much blue on his face. He wants to move, wants to wrap that body close and feel his breathing, or warmth, to relieve himself after knowing Tim is alive.

When lying on the floor with a clown beating up his leg. It was then, Jason truly feels fear. Not because of death, but just seeing the Joker close and getting a feel of how twisted of a man he is. It sends chills on his back to know this kind of man is real and alive.

Jason sees red when the Joker shows his blood-covered spiked club, and drags it around. Then that clown raises that club in the air to swing it towards Tim, that’s when Jason snaps. His hand is shaking from the torturous pain on his leg, but his adrenaline from seeing it about to hit Tim beats the shaking fear and pain.

And before the Joker gets to land another blow, Jason pulls out his gun from the inside of his suit in one swift move and pulls the trigger twice. Both landed satisfyingly on both of the clown’s thighs, leaving two growing wet patches on his purple trousers.

But then the clown laughs cheerfully like he’s won.

The Joker called him Batman. The Joker called him Bruce.

The Joker begs to see ‘the loser’s’ deteriorated face as he begged to be killed by Batman.

Jason hesitates, he had a syringe of strong anesthesia shot on the pocket of his coat. He knows Tim and the rest of the vigilantes is against killing no matter how vile the villain. No matter how much body count the villain made.

Jason looks at the Joker’s ecstatic face, then to Tim’s near-death body.

Then Jason makes an indubitable decision.

Even with his broken leg, he stubbornly drags himself into the light.

Everyone knew the Joker’s fixation towards the bat, and Jason can’t risk to let out his screams when the clown beats his leg into a pulp.

When he speaks, his prediction was correct, the Joker knows instantly that he’s not Batman by voice. He sees the Joker’s mortified expression in a flash, to think a clown can frown like that.

He doesn’t give the genocidal clown the time to finish his sentence and put two bullets in his head. His brain splatters on the ground, and he dies with a mortified face.

Only after seeing the clown dead that Jason finally breathes, shaking in fear, cry, letting go of his nerves. He did okay for pretending to be brave and calm but he can’t believe what just happen.

He looks down to his leg, and see his right calf is bending forward. The tip of his foot almost touch his knees, and a bone is sticking out at the back of his calf.

It’s horrifying to see his own flesh and bones out in the open, and most of all, it fucking hurts, but Jason doesn’t let shock or pain cloud his mind too long.

He crawls over to Tim’s left side of the body right away. The blood that surrounds him ripples at Jason’s interruption and made him slip trying to crawl across. He carefully grabs Tim’s shoulder to lay him on his back and comb his hair away from his face.

His heart ached and his fingers twitch away immediately when he sees Tim’s face swollen in red, purple and yellow. Red cuts peppered here and there, and one is curve-shaped like the curve of the crowbar. Half his face is red with blood that pours from the wound in his head.

Not only that, Tim’s body does bulk up, but with the gashes here and there, the open flesh between the ripped suit, Tim looks delicate and frail. His sleeves, legs, and back is torn, he was shielding himself, because the scars are concentrated there, there might be bones broken underneath the blueing wound.

Then Jason spots a deep and bleeding gashed flesh on the side of Tim’s abdomen. Whether it’s from a stab or that fucking crowbar, it must’ve been deep to be still bleeding. Jason grabbed his suit, pressed it on the open wound, and tighten it with his belt, hoping it’s enough to stop the bleeding.

Jason pressed a finger on the back of Tim’s jaw and another under the nose.

Tim’s not breathing.

Jason’s heart stopped, and in an instant, his hand trembles.

“No... No, Timmy, stay with me.”

Jason hurriedly calls 911, but not to call the operator though.

“911 what’s-”

“Oracle! I know you can hear me send help, hurry he’s badly hurt!” and Jason hangs up before the operator can say another word.

Jason uses his knife to rip the suit down in the middle to get ready to perform CPR and he sees a few more curved shaped gashes there. Jason shivers at the sight, but he pulls himself together. He takes off his disguises, mustache, sunglasses, trench coat, suit, and tie so he can move better.

Jason tips Tim’s head back and stacks his palms above Tim’s bruised chest. He needs to be on his knees to be higher and stretch his arms, which means leaning on his broken leg. He breathes rapidly to prepare himself for the pain and quickly stood up on his knees.

His screams roar and echoed through the room. He’s breathing rapidly from the shocking pain of his broken leg, almost hyperventilating. He straightens his hands, that only then he realized are violently shaking and feeling frustratingly feeble. But he held his hands tight, putting all his strength to stiff his arms and starts to pump Tim’s chest. Pushing hard with the help of his body weight, and blowing air into his mouth every few pumps.

A chill runs down Jason’s neck, his hand starting to feel numb. He’s starting to lose his strength.

He does it a few more times. So, many more times, he lost track of time. But Tim doesn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t feel a heartbeat no matter how many times he checks between pushing.

Then his arms give up, and Jason’s torso fall on top of Tim’s, but he holds himself up with his legs, and he screamed at the stabbing pain in his leg.

Jason breathes, in and out, remembering Mrs. Knope’s pace.

“Urgh... Come on come one Jason pull yourself together,” Jason slaps himself across the face, hard.

With another scream, he raises up again and stars to pump harder, he cringed when he hears another bone broken under the pressure of his hands, but Jason kept trying.

“No... No, Timmy, you can do this.” Jason blows into his mouth.

Jason puts all his remaining strength on his arms, clenching his teeth every time his legs tortures him on every slight movement. He presses his shaking fingers under Tim’s jaw and still finds nothing.

He gets back up and is about to pump again, but a sudden sharp pain strikes his broken leg. Jason is starting to lose the feel of his hands, and they’re twitching violently now. Still, even with the excruciating pain, he stood up on his knees and put his hands together.

This time, when he pushed, his arms gave up and he fell on top of Tim. His elbows landed on the ground first and manage to hold him from landing his full weight on Tim.

His forearms sink into Tim’s pool of blood. Jason is terrified to see how much Tim is losing blood. He wants to get up but he doesn’t have enough strength to straighten his arms anymore, not enough to even push himself up.

“AAAAAAAAAH!” Jason roars in frustration, his throat hurts when he did. Using the last of his energy, he pulls his back and sits up.

Stubbornly, he tried to move his legs to stand again. He tried, with distressed screams, again and again, and always falls. He can’t even punch the ground in frustration.

“NO!” He cries out, screaming on top of his lung, then his sobs come out instead.

“No...” Jason put his left arm around Tim’s shoulder, his right on his waist, and pull him with the last drop of his energy.

He cradles Tim's shoulder and laying his limp head on his arms.

“Tim, wake up, please... Tim,” Jason sobbed desperately, but the battered face shows no sign of reaction.

“Tim! WAKE UP DAMMIT!” Jason screamed, shaking the shoulder in his arms lightly.

He cradles Tim’s face with his right hand, rubbing Tim’s cheeks with his thumb, careful not to touch the bruises and the cuts as if Tim can still feel the pain.

The spotlight above them hits Tim’s body. It accentuates everything Jason doesn’t want to see. The size of his swollen eyes. The stark red flesh inside his open wound doesn’t even bleed anymore. His eyelids are persistently closed. The lack of movement on his chest. His hair damps with his own blood. His pale busted lips. His pale face. And no matter how well Jason can see Tim under the lights, he can’t see any slight movement from the body in his arms.

A drop of tear landed on Tim’s face. Jason buries his face on the crook of Tim’s cold neck, and he let himself break there.

Jason cries harder, streams of tears running down his face as he cradles Tim’s neck. His other hand still on Tim’s shoulder and holds it tightly and close, desperate to find warmth from Tim’s body.

There’s none.

“This isn’t real... You have to get up Tim... You have to. I know you’re strong... You’re so strong, you can get back from this... You can get back up from anything... I’ve seen you.”

Jason lifts his head to see Tim’s face again, hoping something changed, something move, incase Tim hears him. Still nothing.

“Tim... Tim! Open your eyes... breathe Tim... Please, you’re safe now, get up... get up Tim.”

No matter how desperate and loud Jason begs and cries, no matter how tightly Jason hugs him, there’s nothing.

Jason feels a large chunk is being ripped away from his chest. What’s left is a terrifyingly deep hole with no end, and it keeps on ripping himself apart the longer he holds on to Tim’s body that lay motionless in his arms.

He lay his temple on top of Tim’s, feeling how cold the skin is against his and his tears pour harder. He takes in a deep shuddering breath at the chill of Tim’s skin. He picks up the smell Tim’s scent of sweat and that hint of baby powder mixed with mold and iron.

With his weak hands, he holds Tim as tightly as his strength allowed him. It’s the first time he had ever hold him this way.

His throat hurt from screaming, he felt like he can’t speak anymore, but the agony in his heart begs him to. Jason felt an overwhelming feeling of pain, and regret, enough to push him.

“Timmy... I love you,” he whimpered between his trembling lips with a painful strain in his voice. He presses his face against Tim’s that’s soberingly cold and sobs even harder.

The pain in his chest stabs even deeper, it left him breathless, but he still has so many things to say. Things that are too late to say.

“I’ll still love you even though you’ll go far far away for your mission, even though you won’t come back for a long time after that. I’ll still love you even though ramble about animes and mangas I don’t get,” Jason chuckled bitterly.

Jason shuts his eyes close, wincing at the feeling like there’s something twisting to dig into his heart.

It chokes him, pulverizing his heart and it ached more than his leg. The pain punches even more pathetic sobs out of his mouth instead of the things he’s too late to say.

Jason breathes through his clenched teeth, and he cried out with trembling voice.

“I’ll still love you even though you’re not mine to love, Tim, and... and I’ll still love you even though we’ll drift apart someday... Just don’t leave Tim... don’t leave me... don’t leave me here... don’t go... ” his voice cracks as the pain digs even further.

His arms around Tim’s body tighten, face buried on top of Tim’s head, and lips tightly pressed against the roots of Tim’s hair.

Jason breathes shakily, wailing desperate sobs against Tim’s cold skin. He rocks him gently back and forth, cradling the body dearly and close, sending light ripples on the pool of blood surrounding them.

His snapped leg is bleeding out too, and now he’s at the point that his vision blurs and tinted black inconsistently. But he tried to stay conscious, for Tim, in case help is coming.

Jason mutters Tim’s name under his weakened breath, begging him to open his eyes, begging Tim to not leave him, telling Tim how much he loves him.

All fall on deaf ears.

#jaytimweek #jaytimbingo2019 #jaytim fanfic #plz read the warning #not beta read #prolly totally ooc #emocel's

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mksc77 · 5 years

Note

Hurt/comfort ask 2? I’ve seen a few fics mention Sharon having pneumonia after the blast in Shockwave, but it was always after the fact and didn’t really get into it. I’d love a detailed snippet of that :)

Thanks for the ask, anon! I’ve actually been planning to do that in my next story, but it’ll be a while before I get to that point, so here’s a rough draft.

I haven’t watched MC since the event that didn’t happen, and I only saw the Shockwave episodes a couple of times, so I probably botched up some of the timing. I also can’t remember whether Sharon was at the first scene, but for purposes of this story, she was. This will be more detailed and accurate when I get to it in my next story :)

02--sick

Sharon groaned as she woke up to her phone ringing early one Monday morning. “Raydor,” she gasped between coughs. She’d had something she suspected was bronchitis or something like it the week before, but she’d started feeling a little better after a couple of days, so she hadn’t bothered to go to the doctor. She was still tired and had a lingering cough, which she’d hoped spending the weekend on the couch would fix, but it was only slightly better. She was informed that they’d been rolled out, and Andy was awake by the time she ended the call.

“The hell?” He muttered.

“Crime scene. We need to get dressed and go.”

Andy gave Sharon an appraising look. “Do you feel up for this?”

Sharon shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t go without me, and it sounds like they need all hands on deck. We can’t both stay home.”

A couple of weeks later, they finally wrapped the case. The smoke inhalation from the bomb and the late nights from the case had made Sharon’s lingering cough worse, and her sore ribs from the explosion made it more difficult for her to do so. She’d been told when they all got checked out at the hospital after the explosion to take a few days off to rest and to follow up with her primary care physician if she didn’t improve after a couple of days, but she’d already planned to do the same. She’d only disobeyed once long enough to attend a Captain’s Meeting and to go up to the ninth floor to see the aftermath of the explosion for herself, which had been worth it when Fritz told her she was being promoted to Commander.

Sharon started running a fever again a couple of days later and was gradually getting worse, and she called her doctor’s office the next day to schedule an appointment. When Andy came home from work that day, he could hear the shower running when he went to the bedroom to change clothes. He started dinner and replaced the rumpled linens tucked into the couch with fresh sheets and blankets before going to check on Sharon. She loved a long shower, especially when she wasn’t feeling well, but when it had been a while even for her, Andy peeked into the bathroom. The shower was fogged up, but he could see the outline of Sharon’s body sitting against the edge. He got undressed again and tapped gently on the shower door before slowly opening it. Sharon didn’t move as he closed the door again and lowered himself to sit beside her. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been in here for a while.”

Sharon dropped her head to his shoulder as he held her close to his side. “This is the best I’ve felt in over a week.” She tilted her head up to kiss him before returning her head to his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I made a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow morning.”

Andy nodded. He’d been trying to talk her into it since she’d started running a fever again. “The steam probably is doing you some good. If you’re still feeling really bad in the morning, I can take you to your appointment.”

“Hmm.”

“How long have you been in here?” Andy grabbed a washcloth and held it in front of her face when she started coughing. The necessity for that had also been a new development in the last couple of days.

“Don’t know.” Sharon grasped Andy’s arm and started to stand up.

“Hold on, I’ll get a towel for you and help you up.” It was odd that she’d gotten in the shower without placing a towel nearby, but that wasn’t his only clue that she felt like crap.

“Still have conditioner in my hair. Had to take a break,” Sharon murmured.

“I think I can take care of that.” Andy threw the contaminated cloth in the garbage and got a clean one, then got back in the shower and adjusted himself and Sharon to sit between his legs. He ran his fingers through her hair as the water continued to fall on them. He quickly realized that wasn’t the best move and had to force himself to think of other things as he rinsed her hair out. His mind was on helping his sick fiancé and nothing more, but the appendage that was now pressed against soft, wet skin unfortunately had a one-tracked mind of its own. “Anything else you wanted to do in here?”

“Body wash.” Sharon hugged her legs and pressed her forehead against her knees as Andy put some soap on a washcloth and started running it over her body. Her whole body felt heavy and achy, and her throat and chest hurt from coughing. The hot water and Andy’s tender motions made her feel a little better. The water was starting to turn cold by the time Andy rinsed her off, so he got a towel and some fresh pajamas for her before turning off the shower. Sharon shivered as she stepped onto the bath mat, so he quickly dried her off and gave her the towel to wrap around her hair. Her silence and lack of struggle while he was helping her concerned him. He knew she had to be miserable, and she hadn’t seemed to feel so bad the day before.

“You could’ve texted me when you started feeling so bad,” Andy commented as he pulled a sweatshirt over her head. “I told you I’d come home if you needed me to.”

“I didn’t realize I felt so bad until I got in the shower and was too tired to finish it,” Sharon admitted. Once she was dressed, she sank into the couch, where she’d spent the better part of the week. She gave Andy a grateful look as she curled up under the fresh sheets. “Thanks, Andy, those other sheets were starting to feel a little gross.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll make you some tea, do you need anything else?” Sharon shook her head. Andy brushed his fingers over her forehead. “I think your fever’s higher than it was this morning.”

“It’s normal for it to go up late in the afternoon.” Sharon gave Andy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.”

Early the next morning, before dawn, Sharon woke up with a coughing fit and moved to the living room before she could wake Andy. It was always worse in the morning from lying down all night. Andy had propped a couple of pillows under her to give her a little elevation, but that hadn’t helped much. Rusty was in the kitchen getting a glass of water, intending to go back to bed, but Sharon was coughing worse than he’d ever heard her before. “Mom, you okay?”

Sharon accepted his glass of water and took a few slow sips before trying to clear her lungs again, unable to catch her breath to answer him. It hurt her ribs to cough too hard, and the gunk in her lungs required more force to come up than she was able to give.

Rusty got another glass of water and turned back to Sharon. “Mom, your lips are like, blue.”

Sharon was gasping for breath as she coughed, and she wasn’t able to get a deep breath. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, although she was doing so on some level, and she started to panic. “Call—9–-1—1,” she managed to gasp out.

Rusty froze for a moment, but he grabbed the nearest landline and dialed with trembling fingers. He quickly made the call and followed the instructions Sharon had given him when Andy’s health problems started in case he ever needed to call 911 for him. “I’ll go wake Andy up really quick.” He made his way to their room, hands still shaking, and shook his shoulder. “Andy, wake up!” He hissed.

Andy moved his hand to Rusty’s and gently stroked his fingers back and forth without opening his eyes. In his drowsy state, he’d forgotten Sharon was sick and mistook Rusty’s urgency for one of Sharon’s occasional middle-of-the-night raspy pleas for him to wake up to satisfy a different kind of urgency. “Hmmm, need some lov—“

“Ewww, Andy, do not finish that sentence. I’m not Mom…But you have to get up. She’s really sick, I just called 911.”

“What?!” Andy jumped out of bed and practically sprinted the kitchen.

Rusty was relieved that he was dressed, although his boxers were more thin than one would’ve hoped. He grabbed Sharon’s robe and sweatpants and a t-shirt for Andy and went to the kitchen. Sharon would probably rather not be in just her pajamas when the paramedics got there, and Andy was too panicked to realize that all he was wearing were boxers that left entirely too little to the imagination.

Less than an hour later, Andy was filling Sharon’s forms out as well as he could when he heard forceful coughing and a weak “I can’t” from Sharon. A nurse patted her shoulder. “That’s okay. We’re going to give you a breathing treatment soon, and we’ll try again after that.”

Andy looked up from the forms in his lap. “What’s going on?”

“We need to do a sputum test, but she’s having a little trouble. A breathing treatment should loosen it up and help her cough it up a little more easily,” the nurse explained. She turned back to Sharon. “It’s probably pneumonia, and with your low blood pressure and difficulty breathing, we’ll have you admitted as soon as the paperwork goes through.”

Andy nodded and finished the forms in front of him as quickly as he could. He had to ask Sharon a couple of questions about her medical history, but he soon finished and gave the clipboard to the nurse.

Meanwhile, Rusty was pacing the living room, not so patiently waiting for Andy to call. He’d wanted to follow them to the hospital, but Andy had convinced him to wait until Sharon was in a regular room. He’d gotten a few reassuring “she’s okay” texts, that they suspected pneumonia and were running tests, but Rusty couldn’t block the image of Sharon on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over her face from his mind. She’d lost weight in the last couple of weeks from being sick and having no appetite, and she’d looked so small and helpless. It had scared the shit out of him. He’d taken a shower and tried to go back to sleep, but that had been a joke, so he’d finally gotten dressed and stared at his phone. Andy finally called with a room number and a few requests for items for him and Sharon from the condo. Visiting hours were only a couple of hours away, and Andy had gotten permission from the nurse for Rusty to come to the room when he got there. He knew Rusty wouldn’t rest until he saw for himself that Sharon was okay, and he and Sharon both needed some things from home.

Sharon fell asleep not long after she was moved to a hospital room, and she woke up a few hours later to Andy sleeping, sitting straight up in a chair near her bed. She had been told she could change out of her hospital gown if she wanted to, but she’d waited for clean clothes. She was cold, and the pad she’d been wearing as a result of intense coughing hadn’t been changed since the night before, and it had to go. Rusty was curled up, unconscious, on one end of the uncomfortable-looking couch under the window. She reached over and clutched Andy’s hand, which startled him awake. His eyes were red, and she would’ve assumed it was just from lack of sleep if she couldn’t see lingering tear stains on his cheeks. “Hey,” he mumbled. “Scare the crap out of me one time, why don’t you?”

Andy’s light-hearted tone didn’t fool Sharon. His drawn expression and the underlying heaviness to his voice revealed that he’d been frightened, and probably still was. “Hey. You’re one to talk.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Andy kissed her forehead and offered her the thermos of water from the table beside her. “Need anything?”

Sharon took a few sips and gave the thermos back to Andy. “I just want to put my pajamas on. It’s cold in here.” Her breathing treatment from earlier had helped a lot, and as long as she drank water when nurses told her to, she wouldn’t need IV fluids, so Sharon was pleasantly surprised to not be hooked up to anything, but she gazed curiously at the port-like thing in her arm she was just now noticing. “What’s this?”

“That’s for your antibiotic,” Andy explained. “You were a little out of it the first time they gave it to you. They just hook it to that so they don’t have to stick your arm every time.” He stood up and helped her out of bed. She didn’t require assistance to move around, but Andy held her hand and walked with her to the bathroom with the bag Rusty brought in his other hand. He placed the bag on the floor in front of the sink so Sharon could get what she wanted and closed the door behind him to give her some privacy. She used the bathroom and changed clothes, and the warm pajamas and new pad made her feel a little better. She’d been too tired and felt too gross to even think about being embarrassed about asking Andy to tell Rusty to grab them for her, and she was relieved when neither of them had asked any questions. The idea of Rusty’s face while going through her dresser drawer for a couple of extra pairs of panties did give her a laugh as she finished up in the bathroom.

Andy was fiddling with the thermostat unit in her room, and he made his way back to her when he heard the door open. Their movements had woken Rusty up, and he was sitting up and rubbing his eyes when Sharon stepped back into the room. He stood up and carefully hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You scared the crap out of me. Do you need anything?”

“Yes, I've heard. I’m sorry.” Sharon slipped her arm around his waist and gave him a soft squeeze. “I’m okay, but thanks.” As Andy helped her back into bed, she noticed that her bed pillow and a couple of blankets from home were on her bed. “Thanks, honey. I didn’t even know I wanted this stuff.”

“You’re welcome.” Andy straightened the blankets over her and smoothed some stray hair from her loose ponytail back from her face. “Is that better? Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, that’s much better…Did you email in about being out of work today?”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Yes, and don’t worry about work. Provenza’s bitching about being crammed on the seventh floor with Robbery Homicide while they repair our floor, but—ahhh, speaking of the devil.” Andy picked up his buzzing phone and saw that Provenza was calling. He updated him and talked for a few minutes, but he couldn’t get Provenza off of the phone, so he finally pulled rank. Or Sharon’s rank, rather. “Yeah, okay, well Sharon says we have to get off of the phone so you can get back to work.”

Sharon snorted. “Yeah, those cat videos aren’t going to watch themselves.”

“There are probably some crossword puzzles that need some attention, too,” Rusty added.

Andy chuckled as he wrapped up the call. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that our capt—commander—is on the mend.”

#hurt/comfort asks #major crimes #major crimes fanfiction #shandy

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hedgewolf-hunters · 5 years

Text

Silence is golden

Drake: Hey you guys want to see one of my adventures from last week? Than take a seat and open those ears up cause have i got a story for you.

In the city of Etrinitat on the corner of main and etheral st a two story old-fashioned wooden establishment sits. The sign a top the doors reads, Alpha & Omega, Bar and grill. Inside was a bustling collection of mobians big and small from avians to deep diggers to the deepest underwater divers. A female dark red wolf is behind a bar counter serving older customers liquor drinks and scaring off under age kids. She has two blue stripes under her sea blue eyes and her hair like fur is done in a single massive braid. Shes wearing a sleevless leather jacket with a tank top underneath, dark blue skin tight jeans and spiked boots on her feet.

"Mom im cutting out early today." A maroon colored male wolf with hedgehog quills barely extending from his head says to the female. He has a black stripe going down the only two quills he has and the same matching blue stripes under his glowing amber eyes. The male is in a sleevless parka, black zipper boots, and gloves with a slightly raised bump on the knuckles.

"Yeah and do what my son?" She asks. Turning to him after serving another customer. The boy places down a crystal double tapping it so a hologram of a bounty appears. Its of a raccon with a list of crimes.

"Drake this guy is an sociopath with a hard on for killing hunters and civilians. Not to mention he probably has a following with him." The woman says.

"Mom i know this. Its the reason i took the job in the first place. You know physical attacks either don't connect or do any real damage, not to mention I'm probably one of only two other people in this building who can actually get close to him." Drake says.

"Sky let the boy go. He needs to learn to take care of himself anyway, and he cant do that if you hold him back from jobs or doing them alone." A purple hedgehog says from the door leading to the kitchen. Her eyes are normal amber compared to the boys, her quills done in a ponytail are greying slightly at the tips as they stop just past halfway down the door. She has a single white stripe on top of her head down her middle quill and a black stripe down each of her outer quills. Shes dressed in sports top and short, and hightop shoes with a chef outfit over it all.

"Thank you Aunt Aura. See mom even Auntie thinks i should give at least one solo job a shot. Look if it doesnt turn out to well than i will not ask again to take a solo. But if it does than can you please just let me do my own every now and then?" Drake asks his over protective mother. Sky bites her lip wanting to say no but knowing they both have a point.

"Fine. But if you get into any trouble trigger the flare and your brother will be there to back you up." Sky says locking a braclet around her second sons wrist.

"Will do ma. Alright ill be back in a couple days. He's in the grassland plains. How he hasnt been caught already, besides his psychotic nature, ill be finding out soon enough." Drake says picking up the crystal and running out the door. He kicks into high gear once outside the bar and runs across the city in a minute flat to the west wall gate.

By nightfall Drake has finally escaped the great forest that surrounds his home and the city. He groans stretching.

"Damn i really wish i had dads super speed, but no, it went to Scarlet and Inferna only. Me and Bane gotta push just to keep up and i have to push harder since Bane can clear the forest in minutes thanks to his wings." Drake grumbles to himself as he stretches his sore legs. A orb flies out from his jacket.

"Oh stop complaining. Your compensation for these little differences is me and our shared abilities. After all none of them can use the Astral plane, like i told you to use, to travel nearly instantly." A feminine voice says from the orb.

"I got excited and forgot ok. No need to chew my head off Aster. Besides wheres the adventure in instant travel? If we had we wouldn't had to chase away those pups from the cargo transport and kept supplies running to the city." Drake says to the orb. The feminine voice huffs and returns to his jacket.

"Fine but when this job is done we go home my way. Last thing we need is for you to lose your prey fending off adolescent feral wolves again." Aster says before going silent again. Drake chuckles as he starts running again headed to the city of the plains Primous.

Day break arrives and Drake yawns from his room inside a old fashioned inn. He arrived around midnight in the city and could only find this building to rest in. He stretches getting a few pops in his back from sleeping on the lumpy mattress. He grunts as he gets up off the bed and walks to the sink in the room. He spashes ice cold water in his face and reaches into one of his inner jacket pockets. Seemingly deeper than it looks he pulls out some morning hygiene tools.

Half an hour later Drake heads down to the main floor and walks out waving bye to the shop keep. The town is now bustling with buisness, cars driving by pedestrians walking around and kids heading to schools nearby. Drake smiles as he jumps up onto the roof and takes in a birds eye view of the city. Whistling as the crowded busy streets clog up in the mornng traffic. A few sky scrapers litter the city and a few cathedrals, his targets usual dumping sites. Smirking Drake jumps from the building and lands on the sidewalk, he heads into the deeper parts of town blending in as much as he can.

Three hours later Drake is stopped at the last cathedral in the city.

"The place where it all started. A city inspector came to check on the building and found several dead bodies placed in various forms of worship. The cops caught video footage of the raccoon in question shortly after the bodies were found in other cathedrals. Mobians have been scared of this place ever since and the neighborhood has been evacuated do to that fear." Aster says while Drake stands by the doors.

"And some mobians have come to worship him as a new messiah with the messages he's left with the last seven victims. I wonder why is it than that they cant trace his signal during the 'Prayer' as its been labeled. Someones gotta have a clue to where this loon is." Drake mumbles as he stares at the gothic doorway of the church. He scratches his head as he turns around and bumps into a young female raccoon.

"My bad little lady didnt see you there." Drake says taking a knee to help her up. She shakes her head with a small smile as she takes his hand of help. Drake smells the blood and goes wide eyed for a second before passing out from a needle in his neck. Aster stays silent as Drake passes out.

"See momma I caught the bad man after daddy." The raccoon girl says pulling the needle out and waving at a bush. The female fox that ran the inn Drake slept at walks out.

"Good girl. Now lets get him inside before anyone sees." The fox says grabbing Drake by his feet.

An hour later Drake groans awake strapped to a table with a light glaring down at him. He thinks back to what happened before he fell out. The flash back coming back he sighs and grinds his teeth a little.

"Seems someone is noticing his mistake." Aster says. Drake glares at his jacket quickly and than lays back.

"Cant blame you for that one, i deserved it. Guess the bait was too good for him to pass up." Drake mutters under his breath to Aster. She snorts in reply and Drake feels something hovering over his hands.

"Not yet, let the bait settle a little more. But if you feel like im in trouble...feel free to get dirty." Drake says the sensation leaves his wrist as Aster sighs. Drake whistles a tune from his childhood as he waits for the next half an hour till his target appears. A four foot tall raccon with well built frame wearing a priests robe.

"Hello my little sheep. Glad to see your comfy in your protective bindings." The raccoon says.

"Well you left me on this slab with nothing to get comfy with so i made do." Drake replies.

"Heh you are quite the talkative type arent you little sheep." He says.

"No shit Sherlock, I've been stuck up here for half an hour with nothing to do but whistle an old lullaby." Drake says

"Hmm, do you know why you are here little-"

"Call me little sheep one more time and I'm gonna tear a hole through your windpipe." Drake interrupts the raccoon getting tired of that comendering tone that follows the words.

"Fine than hunter, i assume you are here for my head but it seems you're about to lose yours." The raccoon says dropping the fatherly tone to his true thug accent. He walks towards a table with a bloody cloth over it and powerlines leading out from underneath it.

"You assume I'll lose my head here, but let me ask you, do you know why i didn't tear your daughter in half before the needle touched my skin? Or why I didn't drag your wife out of the bushes when they hid behind me?" Drake asks making the raccoon stop in his tracks. Aster uses the moment to slice the straps lightly, enough that they can be broken with even the slightest move. The raccoon turns around glaring at Drake.

"Dude you think I didnt notice the table setting in the back of the inn? Or that i was being followed from cathedral to cathedral? Not to mention your ladies eyes when she heard me say i was a hunter." Drake says. The raccoon looks confused.

"Than why did you allow yourself to be captured?" He asks walking over to Drake puzzled now.

"Honestly i didnt know you would send your own flesh and blood to capture me, that threw me for a loop for a second. But its just how I hunt by myself. I dont go looking for prey i let them come to me." Drake finishes with a grin freeing his hand and grabbing the raccoon by his robe and tossing him over the table with the power tools. Drake quickly curls into a spin dash to free himself and stands up on the floor. Two gunshots in his direction make him turn towards the firing squad of the wife and child. Rubbing the bridge of his nose Drake summons Aster in physical form. A scythe blade with a gap where its connected to the curved staff, a smaller blade growing out the opposite side. Gold trimm visibly and bulbously formimg a drip down pattern down the staff till it reaches the bottom where the gold turns into a spear point.

Drake spins the scythe around in his hand as he walks towards the two females. Bullets bounce off the scythe like rubber as Drake gets closer to them. Once the ammunition is out Drake stops spinning the scythe and grabs a point on the foxes collar bone that sends her to sleep. He back steps the small Raccoon and slams the wood down across her back before striking her several times with his fingers in specific locations to immobolize her and put her to sleep as well.

"Now that the peanut gallery is take care of, where were we?" Drake asks gibing Aster one final spin before resting her against his shoulder. The male Raccoon has stumbled back on the floor.

"You are some sort of Demon, you must be!" He exclaims. Drake snorts as he grips Aster with both hands.

"Hear that Aster, he thinks we're demons." Drake says. A shimmer from the balde makes the Raccoon back up more.

"Ah if only he could hear me, id havea few choice words for him to show him how demon like we are." Aster says to Drake. Drake grins watching as the man scrambles for a knife. He stops a few feet away from the raccoon whos now on his feet with a serrated blood covered machete. Drake leans one foot forward and one foot back, lowering Aster to hover above the floor he holds her with both hands at the ready to swing. The raccoon charges at Drake like a scared child wildy swinging the machete. Drake waits till hes within two feet of them and swings Aster in an upward arc going right through him, than coming back down in the opposite direction. He side steps as the raccoon passes him still swinging scared. Drake finishes by slicing aster through his neck. All three attacks leave no mark on the raccoon whos confused as he felt the blade go through him all three times.

"Im gonna give you two options now psycho. Come quietly and live out your days in a jail cell nice and comfy. Or." Drake says snapping his fingers. The cuts slowly form where the blade touched, not deep like they should be but enough that they are drawing faint amounts of blood.

"I let your cuts form fully to the point of no return." Drake says making a slicing motion with his thumb across his throat. The raccoon gasps in pain feeling the sensation of the two across his body getting deeper agonizingly slowly.

"Please, just stop the pain! Take me in but stop this torture." He begs. Drake raises a brow and steps over to the writhing raccoon.

"You think this is pain? You think i should show you mercy that you never showed to twenty others? No this isnt pain and suffering, this isnt torture yet little sheep." Drake says makimg the raccoon look up at him for a moment. In that moment drake showed him something few others see unless he wants them too.

"Remember you know nothing of suffering, pain, or torture. I'll take you in but you nore your family will remember the other. Of that i will make sure of." Drake says lifting Aster and slamming the spear point down onto his targets head.

Drake: No i didnt kill the guy. Aster can sever bonds and memories with her spear point. I simply took all threes memories of being together from the point of the killings. The wife thought he had left her and the child and thats the way it will stay while the shit rots his life away in prison now. And quick note from the mun that no more stories this week. He'll have more ready next week but this week he will be focusingnon his other project. If you want to Rp with us we can do that or answer questions. But no stories for the next six days.

#sonic au #sonic oc #fantasy #fanfic #fandom #Drake

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writing-royza · 5 years

Text

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Seventeen - Yantir

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I'm excited for you guys to dig deep into this chapter, to start exploring just what has changed about Riza, so I'll keep this short. I hope you enjoy it!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Seventeen - Yantir

RECONSTRUCTION OFFICE OUTPOST, JADAD, ISHVAL

0745 HOURS, APRIL 22

In retrospect, he supposed he ought to have seen that she wasn't acting like herself.

Love is blind. The old phrase flashed through his mind like a taunt as he stared at those strange slit-pupiled eyes, worlds different than the warm whiskey brown he was so used to. The way she carried herself was pure confidence and dangerous sexuality, promising the fulfillment of every fantasy, but her eyes….

Her eyes were colder than ice.

Out of nowhere, he found his voice, holding both hands up in surrender. "Riza, take it easy," he said cautiously. "Something's not right here. Let's just take a step back, and –"

"'Not right?'" she echoed, her smile vanishing into clear annoyance. "I think you're practicing your talent in making understatements, sir. Because there's not just something wrong here; there have been things wrong in East City, in Central…."

She reached out, lacing her fingers through his before slowly leaning forward, pressing his hands down to the floor on either side of his head. Her smile returned, the light from the window glinting from her menacingly sharp canine teeth. "There's a new corruption in this country, Colonel," she breathed, nearly nose to nose with him. "And it's spreading."

Across the room, the door burst open, both Scar and his Master stepping inside. The men paused for only instant as they took in the scene in front of them, enough time for Riza's head to whip around, those strange amethyst eyes glaring at them over her shoulder.

In the next moment, Scar darted forward, putting his usual incredible speed to work. He bent low in the last few steps, his shoulder catching Riza in the ribs and throwing her to one side. The big man barely managed to avoid colliding with Roy as well, coming to his feet between Colonel and Lieutenant, and bracing for further combat.

Scar's Master reached down, helping Roy to his feet, his expression grim. "I apologize, Colonel. If I had known things were this bad, I would have come in with you. She seemed quite normal when we were speaking last night; not like this at all."

"Façades are useful things to hide behind," Riza answered from near the wall. Roy looked in her direction, watching her pick herself up gracefully from the floor. She paused, moving her left shoulder to stretch out the muscles in her side where she had been struck, then smiled. "You should be careful, Scar. You're going to hurt someone, throwing them around like that."

"Keep control of yourself, Lieutenant, and I won't need to," he answered shortly.

The way she spoke, the way she moved… it was all starting to remind Roy uncomfortably of something or someone, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Lieutenant, you and I both know this isn't you," he started, keeping his voice low and steady. "If it's an act, then it ends now. But if this is some kind of side effect from what happened yesterday… then we'll find a way to fix it."

She watched him as he spoke, with the vague sense of a lioness eyeing prey, or an enemy… or both. Finally, she shrugged fatalistically. "And if this is just the new me, sir? You might just have to get used to it." Her gaze wandered south along his body. "It wouldn't be too difficult. You've already been benefiting from one particular change."

"Enough." The single word was quiet, but when Scar's Master spoke it, it was filled with purpose. "Lieutenant, you will stay here for the time being. I will return shortly, once we've formed a plan of what is to be done."

Her smile, when she gave it, was sultry. "I'll be here."

Once the door was closed, the three men stood in a brief moment of tense silence, before Miles came up the stairs. "I heard the commotion," he said, looking with concern from serious face to serious face. "What happened?"

"We're not entirely sure," Scar's Master informed him. "Send a message to the temple: I want three warriors sent here immediately to stand guard, both inside the building and out. Once they've arrived, you and I will go to the library and see what we can discover about what's going on."

"Miles said earlier that Lieutenant Hawkeye might be possessed somehow," Scar commented grimly. "It's beginning to look like a strong possibility."

"We'll look into it," the master promised. He glanced once at Roy, then back to his student. "For now, take the Colonel back to his accommodations. It's been a more eventful morning than any of us bargained for, and I think some time to process is needed."

Roy didn't speak, didn't acknowledge the advice, just mutely followed Scar down the stairs and out the front door. Behind him, a flurry of Ishvalan dialogue passed between the Master and Miles, no doubt discussion on what to do with their not-quite prisoner and what might be wrong with her.

Prisoner. The word rebounded through his head, and Roy couldn't stop the wince from showing on his face. Bad enough that Riza was very much not herself, but that she was being forcibly held for it….

He made it a dozen steps into the street before the guilt overwhelmed him and he spun back toward the house. His jaw clenched, hands curling into determined fists as he took the first step back - and then a firm hand wrapped around his arm.

"I know what you're thinking." Scar's voice was stern. "But the best thing for now is to regroup, form a plan, and come back when we have one."

"I can't leave her here alone," Roy shot back, turning to glare at the bigger man. "She's not herself, but that doesn't mean she's not my subordinate. One of five that I take it very personally when something is this wrong." He shook his head, tugging free and starting toward the house again. "I don't know how yet, but I'm going to help her. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to stop me."

"What do you think would have happened if my Master and I didn't enter the room when we did?"

That stopped him in his tracks nearly as well as any hand. Looking back over his shoulder, Roy watched the other warily. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think she was going to do?" Scar stood with arms folded, looking very much as he had in the tunnels under Central, lecturing Roy on the perils of vengeance. "Did you think she was playing some kind of game? Did you think she would leave you be if you surrendered? Or did you think that yours and the Lieutenant's long history would keep her from hurting you?"

Roy didn't answer, his forehead deeply furrowed and his eyes on the sand between them. He had thought that, that no matter what she looked like, the person in that room upstairs was Riza Hawkeye. She was his master's daughter, his comrade-in-arms, his assistant, his staunch supporter, lover —

Lover. Oh no…. None of the others in the room had been looking at her when she made her little insinuation, had they? Roy couldn't remember; he had still been watching those eyes, those hypnotic, inexplicably purple eyes…. He could only hope that neither of the others had noticed the way she took in the measure of his body; the words without the action could mean any number of things, but that look would damn him and their whole carefully concealed relationship.

"I thought…" he said slowly, "that if I could just make her hear me…. The real her, not… not whatever has taken her over…. Then maybe we could figure this out more easily." He looked up. "Somehow, I don't think she's going to be entirely cooperative."

"We think alike." Turning, Scar started off along the street again, clearly expecting Roy to follow. "Come; we should at least be comfortable while we discuss this."

The walk back to the house assigned to Roy – and Riza, in absentia – was a silent one. Absorbed in his thoughts, Roy didn't notice the occasional strange glance cast his way, or the several people that broke into whispers as he and Scar passed. With the sun rising higher, the streets were beginning to fill with people, and the sight of an Ishvalan warrior and a pale-skinned, dark-haired Amestrian drew attention.

Scar reached the house's front door ahead of him, pushing it open before stepping aside to allow Roy to go first. "The occupant of a house always goes before a guest," he said, by way of explanation. Even in the midst of a serious situation, the small lessons and instructions on Ishvalan culture were presented at every opportunity. Not that Roy was paying much attention just now.

He dropped to a seat at the low dining table, one hand rising immediately to rub his forehead in weary resignation. From the small kitchen area came the sounds – for the second time that morning – of Scar preparing tea, but he paid little attention.

How could she have changed so drastically? And so fast? Better question, why hadn't he seen it? Of all people, Roy knew Riza as well as he knew himself… at least he had thought so. Yet she had hinted that this change in her had been going on for a while; the thinly-veiled comment about their bedroom activities seemed to suggest so anyway.

So if that's a clue, if her uptick in sex drive is a marker of how long this change has been in progress…. He counted back mentally, briefly reliving each encounter until he arrived at…. Just after we were released from hospital, at her apartment in Central. Our first time in months that we –

No. Wait….

His eyes fixed blankly on the tabletop, he felt a growing sense of shock and something disturbingly like horror deep in his chest. There was that first attempt on her part, after leaving the Walston crime scene. That first, very uncharacteristic attempt, with their borrowed car pulled into a deserted alley in broad daylight.

Roy frowned deeply, his hand slipping from his forehead to his chin. That was… was that really only a week ago? Before all of this, we maybe would have slept together two or three times, but it's been seven… well, no there were a couple multiples in there, so… ten? Ten in eight days…. He gritted his teeth in self-annoyance. And you were too drunk on your own pleasure to see it, dumbass. Or else thinking with the wrong head. Maybe both.

The self-admonishing train of thought snapped to a halt as Scar, once again, set a steaming cup in front of him before settling down across the table with his own tea.

Roy looked down into the cup's depths, seeing his own face reflected in sepia tones from the liquid inside. "Another little piece of culture I never knew about," he murmured, half to himself. "I didn't realize tea was so popular here."

"Generally, it is reserved for ceremonial practices, but those who have a taste for it often keep it in their homes." The big man was watching him expressionlessly. "For example, my mother would always serve tea whenever anyone in our household was upset. She always said that tea would calm what words could not."

Roy did not know why it had never occurred to him that this mostly nameless warrior, one covered in muscle and battle scars and harbouring one of the bleakest personal histories he had ever known… had ever had a mother. He knew the man had to come from somewhere, but it had almost seemed as if he had sprung from the earth, fully formed and hunting State alchemists.

But to say so would only insult him. Roy forced a half-smile and lifted the cup to his lips. "Sounds like a wise woman."

"She was." Scar's reed eyes stayed fixed on him, even as he lifted his own cup for a sip. "How long have you and your Lieutenant been together?"

Roy nearly choked, but managed at the last second to swallow properly, feeling the pleasant heat all the way down to his stomach. "Well… professionally, since the civil war. Before that, since my time as an apprentice."

The red stare was unblinking, but while it was not particularly friendly, it was not intimidating. "You know what I asked."

Cold sweat was beginning to gather on the back of his neck in spite of the warmth from the tea. Roy knew his rueful grin was lopsided and uneasy, but also knew that any attempt to hide the truth from someone who clearly already knew it would only prolong the inevitable and make the punishment twice as harsh.

"Like I said, professionally: since the civil war." He watched Scar's eyes narrow in annoyance. "Emotionally, at least on my end of things…." He braced himself for this admission to a near-total stranger. "I've wanted her since the day I first saw her, when I was apprenticing. I don't know her thoughts on it, since she's never told me. But physically?" He shrugged to hide his discomfort. "If you count the six months that Bradley kept us separated, then about a year and a half."

He knew the challenge was in his eyes, the subtle 'What are you going to do about it?' hanging unspoken in the air between them. With Scar's religious affinity, Roy fully expected a morally-charged comment on the topic of premarital sex… and was faintly surprised when the other merely took an unhurried sip of tea.

"You're a good match," the other man said laconically. Red eyes watched Roy over the rim of his cup. "And a good team."

"Thanks." The danger seemingly past, Roy took a settling sip of his own tea. "Though I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this does not leave this room." His lips quirked in a humourless, dry smile. "Can't exactly help with the Reconstruction when I'm under court-martial."

Scar's cup resettled onto the wooden table with a soft clunk. "Even if I were inclined to share your secret – which for the sake of my own honour, I wouldn't do – I realize that it would put the Reconstruction on hold, if not in jeopardy entirely." His look turned meaningful. "Though I would say you and Lieutenant Hawkeye have a much bigger problem than what you have been up to in your personal lives."

Unease crept into Roy's stomach with a feeling like seeping ice water. "Right…" Breathing deeply, he folded his arms on the table. "What do you think it is?"

"Possession." The answer was prompt and firm. "The battle in Central was roughly two weeks ago, and the Lieutenant said this 'change' of hers has been going on for some time."

Roy was frowning down at the tabletop in thought again, mulling the possibility over. "Thanks to the Homonculi's Father, there were any number of souls flying around that day," he murmured. "Most would follow the lifeline of their spirit back to the body they were meant for, but supposing that string were severed…" His right index finger rubbed absently at his lower lip. "Hawkeye was one of very few people still conscious while Father was trying to… to call down God, I suppose. If a soul was severed from its spirit but looking for a place to go when the national alkahestry circle activated and freed all the ones he'd sucked in…."

"It stands to reason it would go to one of closest live bodies in its vicinity." Scar was watching him closely. "And if it happened to be the soul of some convicted criminal or someone on the fringe…."

More like a nymphomaniac, the way we've been – He barely stopped himself from giving the violent headshake he wanted to, to clear the thought. "She has had a little bit harder of a time keeping her temper in check since the battle," he said aloud, reaching for the tea again. "I'm not talking about the incident with that reporter, either. She thought I didn't notice, but there were a few times where she seemed to get annoyed over trivial things or things that normally don't faze her…. I put it down to her still being shaken up over the Promised Day."

"I think the main question should be not what kind of soul she absorbed, but how she absorbed it," Scar said, watching the tea in his cup as he swirled it around. "I was always led to believe that a human body has room for exactly one soul – the one it is meant to host. How can a second one fit into a living body?"

Roy shook his head wearily and drained his cup. In credit to Scar's mother, the warmth of the drink did help to calm him somewhat. "A question for a better theologian than I," he said resignedly. "It appears that's what's happened, though, and so the only thing left to do is deal with the extra soul."

The bigger man nodded in agreement. "That can be left to a priest. They have… methods."

His head snapped up, dark eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion and alarm. "'Methods?'" he echoed. "What kind of 'methods?'"

"Ones that would allow the removal of the possessing soul from the Lieutenant's body without damaging her own, and thus remove the corruption as well." Scar got to his feet, his cup left on the table. "Something such as a yantir. Amestrians would call it an exorcism."

For a long, silent moment, all Roy could do was stare. His mouth felt as arid as the air outside, his tongue forgetting its function. When he finally did speak, his voice was as dry as his mouth. "You want to… perform an exorcism. On Lieutenant Hawkeye." It wasn't so much a question as a statement to force the concept into his stunned brain.

Scar's face was as solemn as ever. "It's the most straightforward way I know to clear the possessing soul from her body," he answered, his tone quiet."So that she is no longer apaavan. If you'll excuse me, Colonel, I'll see to it that the arrangements are made. Wait here until you're sent for."

"Hold on a second!" He got to his feet, following the warrior to the door. "Let's not jump to conclusions here. Suppose she's not possessed? Is this exorcism – this… yantir – going to have some effect on her?" He watched Scar's hand reaching for the doorknob, and desperation began fluttering in his chest like a maddened bird. "We spent a week in hospital following the Promised Day; could she have picked up some kind of illness that's causing the personality shift?"

When Scar looked back over his shoulder, his expression was as stony and locked-down as Roy had ever seen it. "I understand that you want to believe a measure this drastic isn't necessary," he said calmly. "It's very rare that it is… but I believe this to be a rare case. What has changed your Lieutenant is no sickness of the body. It is a sickness of the soul; her reaction to the blessed sand proves that."

Opening the door, he stepped out into the morning light, his parting words being delivered over his shoulder. "And I don't know about you, Colonel, but I have never heard of a physical illness that changes the eye colour of its victim."

Left with no rebuttal coming readily to mind, Roy stood staring into the dusty street for long moments after Scar was lost to both earshot and sight. Finally, realizing that some of the few passersby were giving him strange looks as they went, he retreated inside and closed the door.

Breathing a deep sigh, one born of fatigue both physical and emotional, he sank onto the low sofa that had been brought in to help furnish the house's small living space. There was nothing he could do, not right now. This new development put the reconstruction plans on hold while Miles and Scar scrambled for answers; perhaps he should take advantage of the time and rest.

Obviously, there was nothing keeping him here if he decided to try and see her. He wanted to hold her, wanted to ask what she was feeling, to try and comfort her… and comfort himself. Roy hated being left in the dark on anything, more so when it came to his subordinates. Especially her.

He could go to her now, alchemise a way past her guards, carry her off someplace where they could be alone and sort this out…. But he wouldn't. Ishvalans despised alchemy and using it in their holy land would set them against him and ruin all chances for reconciliation and reconstruction. And how could he carry Riza off when she had so easily overpowered him earlier? Sure, he hadn't exactly fought back, but her takedown of him…. There was a strength in that lithe frame that he didn't think had been there a month ago.

As for sorting everything out… how did you sort out the corruption of a human soul when you had no idea where to even begin? He was slowly coming around to the thought that this Ishvalan exorcism idea of Scar's might only be the best option for Ishvalans… not Amestrians. That being said, however, what could he do, aside from his first instinct to abscond with her into hiding until they could sort this out?

His mind still swirling with a dark miasma of confusing thought, he stretched out on his side. Sleep had eluded him all night, and while he had too much on his mind to be capable of truly restful sleep, tiredness dragged at his limbs, making his body feel heavy and his muscles relax.

Not so much falling asleep as passing out, he thought, allowing his eyelids to close. He didn't want to sleep, but the near-constant bombardment of shock and worry in the last hour had flooded him with adrenaline. Now it was draining away, being slowly replaced with weariness.

Close your eyes, relax… but keep thinking, Roy told himself. Make a plan for once you’re in a better position on this chessboard, once she's back to within reach. Because she will be. Be ready when she is.

RECONSTRUCTION AUTHORITY OUTPOST OFFICE

1647 HOURS, APRIL 22ND

She came back to consciousness in the late afternoon… at least it felt like consciousness. Lying on the sleeping pallet in a dark corner of the room, Riza held still, taking inventory of herself. No sharp aches or pains, no general feeling of malaise, just a feeling of dragging tiredness that pulled at her very bones.

Suppressing a groan, Riza forced herself to sit upright, drawing her knees toward her chest and resting her folded arms on them. She yawned, ducking her head to instinctively hide the expression. Letting her eyes fall closed was a mistake; getting them open again was a task in and of itself.

Why am I so tired? She hadn't felt this dragged out since the Promised Day, waiting for that first transfusion to make it safe for her to sleep. But she had been out of danger in the blood loss department for weeks now, and there weren't any new wounds –

No, that wasn't quite right; now that she had moved, her left side was aching subtly. Lifting her head, she looked herself over quickly, finding no spreading bloodstains on the homespun desert dress. She pulled the loose collar away, looking down…. Was that some kind of mark on her side? In this poor light, she couldn't tell.

Climbing to her feet, she moved toward the window and the golden light filtering through. As soon as it touched her skin, the warmth was welcome, like being wrapped in a soft blanket. And at the same time, all the tenuous strength went out of her legs, dropping her to the floor.

Riza hit the floorboards with a soft grunt of surprise and pain as the sore spot on her ribs flared at the impact. She clamped her hand to the spot, making the ache flare brighter. Hissing between her teeth, she pulled her dress away from herself again, looking down to the sore spot… and stared.

A vividly purple bruise spread in an inch-wide patch over her ribs, obviously the reminder of some impact but… what? And when? Maybe when she had wrenched herself away from the priest at the temple, the sand still burning her palms? She wouldn't necessarily have noticed a hit to the ribs then… but no. If that were the case, the bruise should have been a darker, deeper purple, not still shot with red. This was more recent.

Reminded of the wounds to her hands, she held them out, palms up. The disconcerting red marks were fainter – much fainter than they had been last night, and certainly not blistered as she had suspected they might be. All in all, they seemed to be healing nicely.

She brushed her fingertips over one half of the starburst pattern… and frowned. She had thought the skin might be heated from the burns, but… wherever the skin was unnaturally red was dead numb.

Riza didn't get much of a chance to dwell on this new revelation before, behind her, the door opened. She glanced back over her shoulder, finding Miles stepping inside, followed by a solemn-faced young man in a warrior's robe. Willing her knees to support her, she got carefully to her feet and turned to face the visitors.

"Lieutenant," Miles greeted her cordially, with a slight inclination of his head. "How are you feeling?"

"All right, I suppose." Something about him felt off to her, but she couldn't quite place what. "I certainly can't say I'm on top form, when I've been sleeping so long." She glanced around the room. "I suppose, when it's dim like this, my body doesn't have the sense to wake up at a normal time."

She caught the small frown as she looked his way again… and finally understood the subtle body language he was giving off. He was holding himself very tightly, as though ready to run or dodge at a second's notice. He was watchful, jumpy, operating on a hair trigger.

Miles was wary of her.

"You haven't been asleep that long," he said, after a long moment had stretched between them. "Only a few hours. You were awake earlier, when Colonel Mustang was here."

"…When was that?" Confused, she stepped out of the warming sun into the shadows again, not missing the way Miles' eyes turned sharp at her movement. "Are you sure I was awake for that?"

"Positive. He came up to see you himself, along with Scar, around eight o'clock this morning." He was watching her intently, expression turning curious. "You don't remember?"

Confusion growing, merging with worry over the gap in memory, Riza shook her head. As far as I know, the last time I saw him was as you were —" She stopped just short of using the word 'dragging.' "— escorting me away from the temple after I burned my hands."

"I see." His gaze travelled to her left hand at her side. "And how are your hands? May I see?"

She stepped closer — noting again the stiffness that came to his body as she closed the gap — and held both hands out, palm up, for his inspection. Almost gingerly, Miles held both her hands in his, critically eyeing the spidery red lines snaking outward from the pinkie-side of each hand.

"Well, it seems they've begun to heal, though it may take a while for the marks to fade."

"They don't hurt," she allowed. "Though there may be some nerve damage; they're mostly just numb. I don't —"

She broke off as Miles' grasp tightened briefly. Before she could ask what was happening, the so-far silent young guard stepped around the Major and snapped a pair of handcuffs around Riza's wrists, a chain in the middle running several feet to the guard's hand.

Riza jerked free of Miles' grip to a cacophony of clinking, instantly alert and bracing for trouble. "Miles, what —" A tug on the chain from the guard stopped her backward motion, and she froze, watching both men with the same wariness Miles had exhibited on entering. "…Major, what's going on."

He shifted in discomfort at the flat-toned question. "Lieutenant, stay calm. We have orders to take you for treatment, but we have to assure our own safety in doing so. If you'll just cooperate —"

"Treatment?" she echoed sharply, not caring that, technically speaking, she was confronting a superior. "Treatment for what, exactly? My hands?"

"For whatever caused the sand to burn you in the first place," Miles answered, hands half-raised in what was likely supposed to be a calming gesture. "Please, Lieutenant, it will only make things more difficult if you resist. If you'll just agree to come along quietly —"

"Does the Colonel know about this?" she snapped, gritting her teeth against the anger starting to swell in her chest. They obviously thought she was some kind of danger; she would not give them the satisfaction of proving themselves right.

"He'll meet us there." Miles took a step toward the door. "Scar is with him, and the Master will be there as well. You won't be in any danger, but please: make it easy on yourself as well as me." He hesitated a moment, then added, "Not to mention that this will all blow over easier without a scene, making the reconstruction progress more smoothly."

She watched him, knowing full well he was right, and that she would do as asked… but wanting to make him sweat a little bit for his victory. Finally, just as an edge of uncertainty crept into those red eyes, she nodded. "Very well, Major. Lead the way."

They took her through little-used backstreets of the city, mostly to keep her out of the public eye, Riza assumed. To be seen handcuffed one day and helping to spearhead the reconstruction the next… tongues would wag and authority would be questioned, and that could not be well-afforded when the project was just beginning.

Humiliating as it was to walk cuffed and chained like a common criminal, Riza kept her head held high and her eyes forward. She spoke only when spoken to by Miles, keeping a firm lid on her temper that still simmered in the pit of her stomach. She suspected that Roy indeed knew the Ishvalans were attempting to help her, but she knew that showing up in this fashion was going to garner righteous wrath on his part.

She fought down a smile at the thought. Goodness knew she didn't need him to fight on her behalf, but it warmed her heart that he was so willing to throw himself into that sort of fray. The fantasy took shape in her mind: the way those dark eyes would widen as they caught the glint of silver around her wrists, and then the low, dangerous softness in his voice as he asked why his Lieutenant was being treated like a prisoner, followed by the edge of command in his sharpening tone as he demanded her release….

Riza wasn't able to fully stop the tiny smile that spread across her lips. She would have to find a way to thank him for his…. She contemplated what the right word might be…. Devotion, probably.

Miles and the guard led her into an alley-like opening in the side of a high-rising wall, open space visible at the far end. Riza drank in the coolness of the shadows, letting it dispel the shakiness in her knees that being in direct sunlight seemed to cause. An effect of so much sleep, she thought, and possibly so long in that dimly lit room. Once she got reaccustomed to the light, she would —

The thought trailed off as she and her escorts emerged into the centre of a small amphitheater. Tiered seating rose around them, washed by the late afternoon sun and standing empty. Bare, sandy soil covered the ground they walked on, in a flat circle twenty metres across. In the centre stood the priest who had performed the sand blessing, waiting with his hands folded into his wide sleeves, watching them approach.

Riza frowned. Miles had said that Roy, Scar, and Scar's Master would be here, but where — ah. Turning her head to her left, she spotted them, sitting on the lowest level of stone bench seats. Scar had one hand on Roy's left arm, both men watching her intently. Roy looked to have been in the process of standing, now frozen with his eyes on her hands. Three seconds, she estimated, and he would pull free, stand, and her small daydream would be acted out in front of her.

What she did not anticipate was for those dark eyes to meet hers, fill with helpless apology… and then he settled back into his seat.

…He knew. He knew these were the measures they would take. Surprise and a new sense of apprehension covered her arms with gooseflesh, a tiny shiver zipping down her spine. Just how afraid of me are they? And why?!

Miles stopped her in front of the old priest, who smiled in a fatherly fashion and offered a small bow. "Good to see you again, miss," he said, by way of greeting. "How are you feeling?"

That question again…. "Confused, mostly," she answered truthfully. "I was told I was being brought for some kind of treatment, though I'm not clear on what." She shrugged, her restraints jingling faintly. "I feel fine."

The old man nodded sagely. "Unfortunately, that is often the case in situations like this, until the problem rears its head again." He dropped his hands from his sleeves. "I take it Miles has not explained to you what a yantir is?"

"…No, he didn't." Her apprehension grew stronger, coiling and uncoiling in a restless ball somewhere around her solar plexus. Was Roy watching this? Had they told him what was going to happen?

The priest nodded again, reaching out to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't look so worried. You won't feel anything. It's a spiritual procedure; nothing invasive." His parental smile suddenly didn't seem so warm as the next words hit home. "I believe the Amestrian word for it is 'exorcism.'"

Riza couldn't help but look back over her shoulder, her gaze finding Roy inside of an instant. That one look was enough to tell her, through his tense posture and the guilt stamped in his eyes that he was well aware of what these people had planned. He knew, he understood… and he was allowing it.

Of all the people in her life that could have sold her out… Riza never would have expected it from him, and that hurt more than the burns on her hands — or back — ever could have.

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #tainted blood

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