#... that's just my general endgame tag

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 10

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9

• ··········· • ············ •

Two weeks have passed since the last time you saw Viktor. You had thought better than to go back to the Academy. Your mother had told you something was happening at Hextech. Something big. She had to stop you from making your way there and figure out why.

“It’s about the attack. Please stay as far from that investigation as possible.”

You made a note of the timeline from your world and this one. Rocket attack, memorial attack, Zaun’s incursion by Caitlyn, Caitlyn’s return sans Vi, Piltover under martial law.

Right now, only the attack on the Council room had happened.

“By saving Viktor, you might have disrupted everything else.” Your mother suggested while looking at your little board of timelines.

You had been using the office that was adjacent to your room at the penthouse for anything that needed secrecy. Viktor's notes, theories, and a chalkboard of the runes you knew. You hadn’t told your mother what they were, just told her ‘other dimension things,’ and she accepted it. 

“The timeline fits... the events don’t... and I can’t see the endgame for that. Ambessa should have made her move by now…She needs Zaun and Piltover to butt heads. Viktor's demise doesn't change that.”

Your mother rolled her eyes at the general’s name. She met the woman once and had become very impressed by her until she mentioned that losing her family is the best motivation for bettering oneself. After that, your mother had just veered away from the general.

“Something might be holding her back.” Your mother cut a little piece of red string you were using and made a little bow with it.

“Or maybe she is just adding fuel to the fire she’s going to set.”

Someone knocked on the door of your room, and you both looked at each other, shrugging, not knowing who it could be.

“Yes?” you called, peeking your head through the door, and a familiar voice called your name.

You glanced at your mother, who was hurriedly getting up from the little loveseat and quickly walking to the door. You went back to the room and tidied up, pinning your mother's red ribbon to the corner of the corkboard.

“Essie, you have to leave the kid alone. They need to breathe.” You heard as you were locking up the room. You smiled at the sound and walked out to the bright corridor outside your bedroom.

“You should be aware that mother’s love language is closeness, Wylla.” You gave the visitor a one-shoulder shrug. “Well, I don’t mind, but you might.” Wyllah grinned, her sharp canines visible.

A beautiful, tall, and slender Vastaya woman stood, one hand placed on your mother’s shoulders. Her black cat-like ears were adorned with beautiful flowery jewelry matching the headband she had in her perfectly cut bob. She had freckled dark skin and the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen. 

When you arrived here, she had been away on business. The day her airship landed on the hexgate, your mother had immediately asked her to come and meet you. Once she walked through the door, you wiggled your eyebrows at your mom suggestively, earning you a playful slap on the arm. 

“Nah, it’s encouraged.” You chuckled. “Oh…that reminds me.” Wylla looked at you grinning. “A young gentleman is waiting for you in the living room.” “A young man?” Your mother asked, eyes widening. You just looked confused. “Do we know him?” “I’ll give you a hint. He is currently melting in the chair in front of the veranda.” You looked back at your mother. Was that supposed to mean anything? She smiled. “Viktor.”

The three of you walked to the living room, where Viktor was in fact sitting on one of the armchairs in the veranda. You looked back at Wyllah, and she shrugged.

“He seemed rather... off... in the elevator.” She said, and you nodded while walking to him.

“Vik?” He jumped slightly at his name being called and then turned back to you.

You gasped at his appearance. It was him, from your world, after his disease progressed. His eyes rimmed with dark circles, the bright amber color now dull, he didn’t just look tired. He looked exhausted. Worse... he looked in pain. 

Oh, fuck it.

It took you two steps to stand next to him and crouch near him, your hands on the arm of the chair. You had to mentally stop yourself from taking his face in your hands. He looked worse up close. 

His skin was pale, and his cheeks seemed hollowed out; his uniform was crinkled, and his hair was a mess. He had been stressed or anxious, and he hadn’t been taking care of himself because of it. That's how Viktor operated. 

“Are you alright? Is it your lungs? Your leg? Is the bruise not healing?” You blurted out, knowing what happened last time he looked like that. “What?” He asked, his eyebrows twitching. He shook his head. “It's Hextech.”

You moved your head to look at his hand on his lap, human, and then looked at his legs, trying to formulate a plan to lift his pant leg to check the enhancement. Has it started to corrupt him?

“They found bits of a hex-core in the bomb fragment.” He sighed, placing a hand on his forehead, massaging his forehead. “They want Hextech’s control directly in the council. No more private investors or personal projects. Only the council will say what projects go forward.”

“That makes no sense.” You told him, trying to keep your voice neutral and calm. He already had plenty of anger and frustration. “Why would they take something from the hands of the competent people to give it to a bunch of merchant houses?”

“According to Salo, the Hex Project needs more than intelligent people at its helm. It needs security, and we are not providing that. Locking the hex core in a storage room is not secure…" He stopped, and the hand on his lap made a fist. "It’s been secure for the last four years, but all of a sudden it’s like we are keeping it in the atrium of the Academy.”

He was rambling, but you had zoned him out when he said Salo’s name. Was this Ambessa’s strategy? She always wanted the hextech to work in her favor. She knew Jayce and Viktor wouldn’t let the hex-core behind, so she needed to control them somehow. 

“Are they letting you two go?” You asked, not looking at him, almost sure of the answer. “They tried, but we did not budge. Hextech is our dream. They can try and control the tech, but it will not leave my hands.”

You nodded and looked back at your mother over your shoulder. She had an eyebrow raised and an angry look on her face.

“It’s not Salo…” you told her, and she nodded knowingly. “I know…” she agreed. “If she gets her hands on the cores…” you continued before she interrupted. “I know. Viktor dear, where can I find Jayce?”  “In the Lab. He refuses to leave. We fear they will try and take the cores.” Viktor frowned at the question but seemed too tired to ask why. “No one is taking anything from you, dear.” She turned to her partner. “Come, Wyllah, we have a lab to save.”

You watched as they both got their coats and their bags and zoomed off out the door. You heard a pained and tired sigh coming from the man in the chair. You stopped yourself from stroking his hair; instead, you got up and stretched.

“I need to go.” You heard Viktor say, but he made no mention of getting up.  “No, you don’t.”  “I don’t even know why I came here. I just... walked... “You walked here from the Academy?” He shook his head. “From the Manor district.” He corrected, and your brain stopped functioning for a second. “Manor District? Why did you go there?” He shrugged. “Don’t know. I just wandered into Piltover and got there and then here.”

No wonder he looked like he was about to faint. He had walked a good forty minutes to the manor and some twenty minutes to get here. Peeking at his torso, you noticed he wasn’t still wearing his back brace. You closed your eyes and looked at the sky, taking a deep breath. The pain this man must be in right now…

“Yeah... You aren’t leaving anytime soon, Vik.” You told him, and he looked up at you. “Not until you eat and rest.” “But…”

You placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at his face, a smile appearing on your lips. 

“Stay, and maybe I’ll even show you some magic.” Viktor’s dull and tired eyes sparked for a second as he looked at yours.  “May I stay in the armchair?” He almost pleaded, and you nodded. “Consider it yours.”

He turned to look back at the window, letting the warmth of the afternoon sun comfort him, and you made your way to the kitchen.

Your mother had made some pastry rings with little cubes of caramelized fruit in them, and while the water boiled, you heated it in the oven. Waiting for both things to finish, you leaned into the counter, your mind now connecting the dots.

Ambessa was waiting on the sidelines; she was smart enough to let the dust settle and see what would happen. There was no need for a violent takeover to get Piltover to fight Zaun and weaponize the cores; she could do it without having to push and pull puppets anywhere. It was far more efficient than trying to pit Zaun against Piltover. If the council took over, so would her puppets. Whether willingly or not.

The kettle boiled to a whistle, and the oven pinged, bringing you back to your senses, and you placed them on a small platter. You walked to the veranda, and for a moment you thought Viktor was asleep until he turned to the sound of your steps. 

Viktor’s smile as he looked at you was enough to make you falter a bit on your feet. It was a look you hadn’t seen in him in a while—a tired, honest, drowsy smile. 

• • • •

“Your back will get stiff and your lungs will disown you if you don’t warm up, V.” You said mischievously, embracing the slender man’s shoulders from behind, cocooning him in the blanket you had on your back. 

His hunched back straightened slightly at your contact, and you heard a chuckle from him. He looked at you from the corners of his dark-rimmed eyes and gave you a tired smile. His body relaxed in your warmth, and you stayed for a while until you felt his body temperature come up.

• • • •

“You’re staring.” He mumbled, and you shook your head, chuckling. “You remind me of someone.” “You’ve said…”

You placed the tray on the small table and pushed it towards him. Sitting on the other armchair next to him, he grabbed the pastry first, giving it a little bite. 

“Can I ask you something?” You leaned your elbows into your knees after a while. “Mmhmm...” he nodded, munching on the small sweet ring. “Was Ambessa in the lab this week?” 

Viktor frowned and chased the food with a slow gulp of tea.

“General Medarda accompanied Councilor Medarda and Salo once, yes.” His voice dripped with venom, making his accent deeper. “Why?”

You shrugged and shook your head.

“Just curious…That good?” You mentioned the pastry with your chin, trying to change the subject quickly, and he made an affirmative sound in his throat. “You want more?” “Maybe later.”  “How about some shut-eye? No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in a week.” “It’s been 8 days and 6 hours, actually.” “Don’t you dare sound proud of that.” you warned, turning your face to the sun. “I’ve gone for longer…” he said, and you heard him bite a piece of caramelized fruit. “I remember…” you blurted out, snorting. “You do?” He asked, and it dawned on you what you said. “I remember when... I was in the music academy, the days... I mean nights... endless sleepless nights... studying music...” You cleared your throat and got up from the chair. “I’m going to fluff up the pillows in the guest bedroom.”

You didn’t really fluff up anything since the guest bedroom was always prepared for… well… guests… So you just went inside the bedroom and opened the curtains to help the sun warm the room. 

The distinguishable sound of Viktor’s cane came closer to the door, and you heard a low whistle, and that was enough to let you know that man was high on exhaustion and running on fumes alone.

“This bedroom is bigger than my whole apartment.” He leaned on the door and mentioned the room with his cane. “You’ve moved out of the dorm, heh?” You groaned once more; the familiarity of this whole thing was making you forget who you were in this timeline. “Eh...Jayce thought it was a good idea to put some distance between me and my work.” He limped inside the room and sat on the bed, his long legs stretched straight in front of him. He looked at you with a sleepy grin. ”I don’t think he understands the concept of taking the work home with me.”

He bounced a bit on the edge of the bed as you leaned a shoulder into the wall, raising an eyebrow at the exhausted man in front of you.

“Your mother does know how to pick cushiony things.” He mumbled after a few bounces, and you snorted at him. “What? It is true. Have you sat on the chairs in the conservatory? Cloud quality.”

You belly-laughed at him and saw his chest heaving in the same pattern. You nodded at his nonsensical, tired tirade and moved to open the bed sheets for him. 

“Are those technical, scientific terms, Mr. co-creator of Hextech?” You walked back to him and grabbed his cane, leaning it against the bedside table. “Very much so... I am utterly exhausted...” he babbled, as you pointed for him to take his shoes off. “Anything connected to my spine hurts…And that is everything, in case you didn’t know. Everything connects to the spine...”

“Viktor…shush…” you eventually told him, and he nodded apologetically.  "I blather when I'm tired." He shifted his weight to walk over to the side of the bed where the sheets were open, using the bed as his walking aid. 

Unlike your Viktor, who got overtly quieter as his tiredness grew.

“Come on, lie down and rest.” You told him gently, grabbing his elbow to help him.

And he did, his eyelids getting heavy. He sat on his jacket and winced as it pulled on him when he moved back to the head of the bed. He took it off immediately and unbuttoned his vest.

“You promised me magic.” He said once he was lying on a throne of pillows. “I did.” You pushed the sheet onto his legs. “I learned a new rune.”

His eyes widened a bit, and you chuckled. 

One of the nights in the week before, you had fallen asleep at the piano. 

The idea of staying at home doing nothing had started to become boring, so you had decided to try out for the Piltover Symphonic Orchestra. And that meant you had to compose and play a sonata. It was easier said than done, and much like the boys at Hextech, you could get lost in your work. Not to the point of whatever mind place Viktor was in at the moment, but enough that you would fall asleep in the music room sometimes. 

After a particularly bad dream, you had woken up in a panic in a dark new room. A rune had plucked the piano, the vibration from the sound visible against the moonlight shining from the window. Once the vibration hit the light, they formed a beautiful rune glowing white against the darkness.

“I have noted it down in your notebook, just like I did with the others you haven’t seen.”

Viktor gave you a drowsy smile and urged you on with a stare.

You took off the glove you wore like a second skin before pushing the thick curtains, making the room dark and shadowy. Making your way to the bed, you kicked your slippers off and sat on the bottom of the mattress.

With a few strokes in the air, the rune appeared in front of you and dissolved into a smoke-like texture at first and then started to dissolve into small shimmering white marbles of light. Very similar to the unlocking wisps, but these were white and floating gently.

You heard Viktor gasp and grin at him, holding up a finger, the universal sign of ‘that's cool, but check this out.’ With a flick of your wrist, the little sparkles of light rocketed toward the ceiling and just hovered there, like little stars in a sea of darkness.

“Gods.” It was all that escaped him, his face now illuminated by the shimmer of the soft white lights.

You looked from the lights to his face, and although he looked tired, the amazement he was feeling was written on his features. The tired curling of his lips and the flicker and light in his eyes. The way he gently placed his head on the pillows and watched the little marbles of smoke and light dance on the ceiling, his eyes focusing and unfocusing on a particular glow. 

The stars started to fade, and in the silent room, you could only hear him breathing calmly.

“Can you do it again?” He whispered, and you smiled.

You pulled yourself further into the bed and lay on your back, perpendicular to him, your knees bent over the edge. You made the rune again, and the stars reappeared.

“Is it infinite?” He mumbled, his brain starting to shut off, his accent becoming stronger. “The times you can speak the runes?” “I don’t know.” You answered, your brain starting to feel drowsy, lulled by the slow, floating magic. “Can I ask you something?”  “You already did…” You joked, and he snorted. “Yes, but… this you don’t have to answer.” “Go on.” “Have we met before?” “No.” You lied, still having the brain function to preserve your story. “It...is...weird...then.” He sighed deeply. “Every time you say my name, it’s like you’ve said it a thousand times before…”

He paused and sighed again, resting an arm on his forehead while the other rested on the bed next to him.

“And every time I hear it," he mumbled, his eyes already closed. "It’s like I’ve been hearing it all my life.”

When the only sound in the room was his light snoring and your even breathing, you shifted to lay on your side, stretching your arm and touching the tips of his fingers with yours.

• ············ • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth

[lavendervirgos]

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[gladiatorcunt]

summary: the discovery of a long hidden planet operating outside of the emperor’s rule threatens to upend the balance between the great houses and shift the tides of war. (ongoing series)

pairings: paul atreides x reader , chani x reader, leto atreides x reader, lady jessica x reader, irulan x reader, feyd rautha x reader (AFAB crown heir!reader)

cw: reverse harem type crack treated seriously, cosmic horror elements, undecided/possibly ambiguous endgame, dark/yandere behavior & themes, comedic undertones, dark & nsfw content, canon compliant as much as possible but there will be gaps in my memory, past leto & jessica (they split after she became a reverend mother)/past paul & chani, each character pursues reader separately, oc planet & oc house for reader, pretend like it still makes sense for leto to be there, don’t think too hard about the logistics of this in general, vintage sci fi inspired, i just wanted to have a silly unrealistic series where it’s all about the reader lmao

series masterlist:

coming soon !

1. stardust fallout

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

tag list (ask to be added or removed, NO MINORS):

youngestxhearts, tian-monique, angel-gabriella, isnt-itstrange, flower-frog, aerangi, saturnhas82moons, ch0co1atech1p, mcmisbehaving, zoeaxrodriguez22, hellomadamebutterfly, sh4d0w69he4rt, moonsoulk, skythighs, laennetargaryenskywalker, nexilismirus, howibecameabadassbitch, hoely-maria, aubs444, timhalamet, allison-119, your-favorite-god, homopheli, droopycoquette

- faetreides 2024

[ratatattouille]

this passage got me over-analyzing on main again, lol. this part right here, in the GOF, is pure ginny and it really kinda cements why i don't get HBP ginny (the book). because this ginny and the ginny we get from POA all the way to OOTP are the same ginny: she's concerned for the safety of others, fiercely loyal, occasionally bashful but also bold, kind of an outcast and otherwise ordinary.

first of all, i never had a problem with quidditch-lover ginny. if anything, i loved the idea of her becoming bold as a response to being (basically) raised by fred, george, ron and bill and pursuing quidditch in spite of them. before HBP, we see her stand up to ron and even harry. we know she's used to standing up for others especially when it comes to her brothers.

but then in HBP, all of a sudden, we get this super popular, super beautiful, snarky, petty girl that just seems out of left-field. the book relies more on telling us that ginny is all these things instead of showing us. we hear slytherins talk about how good looking she is, but harry himself at the height of his attraction to her never really describes her looks as much of anything but "blazing." there's so many other words he uses to describe characters looks, whether he finds them attractive or not (he describes cho's freckles and ponytail), but there's so little for ginny.

but that's minor.

the big problem here is that we're supposed to believe ginny is suddenly popular because . . . she is. she makes mean spirited jokes and hexes people that merely irritate her. not being a pushover is one thing. being that petty is another.

this behaviour isn't a problem for me because i think ginny should be perfect and ordinary and a good girl, but because there's very little character development to warrant any of these changes, and what we know of her in other books is almost completely abandoned for hinny endgame.

and the best example i can use is tom riddle's diary.

in CoS (one of my top three, personally), we have a ginny who is responsible for the near-deaths of at least three students and then herself. so three important things to keep in mind is:

She felt like an outcast and lonely her first year (she didn’t fit in despite her siblings’ notoriety) and so turned to riddle's diary for solace.

She probably got a bad rep for nearly killing all those students, which couldn't have been easy for her (remember how strongly the kids reacted when they merely suspected harry).

In OOTP, she confessed to feeling traumatized about her experience in the chamber.

In book 5, we know that she felt some kinship with luna, even after initially calling her "loony" and regretting it, and it's likely because she knows what it's like to feel like an outcast. she didn't have a very good first year and we barely read about what she had to endure as a result of her actions in her second and third year (bc pov harry literally doesn't care until book 6), and she's also the only girl in her family who must stick up for herself and her own interests.

so it's disarming to see ginny suddenly popular in book 6, very mean-spirited and thoroughly unfunny, and so disloyal to her brother that she goes out of her way to publicly humiliate him. ginny was not above teasing her brother in other books, but she was never mean to the people she loved or even in general. ginny may have fought many times with ron and the twins, but her defining trait has always been loyalty. not just to harry, but her friends and family.

furthermore, HPB ginny is VERY liberal with her hexes and jinxes. she even goes as far as to defend harry's use of sectumsempra against hermione! now one can say this is because of her loyalty to harry, and you'd almost have me there! but it's still quite a ways away from GOF ginny who stood up to ron and harry making fun of girls and literally tag-teamed with hermione in calling them out. ginny was loyal, but she usually stood up to her friends and family when they did something wrong because she had a soft-spot for the downtrodden.

and i speak of the curses because if ginny didn't have to be shoe-horned into a relationship with harry in HPB so that harry got Barrows citizenship, her character would have been grounded in the horrors she faced in CoS--meaning that she felt regret for all the trauma she caused others and experienced some anxiety about her ability to control herself. or we could all just assume that she didn't ever address what she did to others (like saying sorry), making her a profoundly sociopathic character (and very different from who she was in earlier books). either she was badly written (that is written exclusively to titillate Harry) in HBP or just a terrible person all along.

i prefer to go with the first one.

i think ginny was terrified of what she did under the possession of tom riddle, and it's mentioned in OOTP that it traumatized her. why wouldn't she be afraid of becoming vindictive and hurting people? why would she all of a sudden become very liberal and nonchalant about performing powerful and painful hexes on people who simply annoyed her? why would she be barrelling into players during quidditch matches when she, at heart, values fairness and others well-being? why wouldn't she be scared, like harry is when he starts sharing voldemort's visions, of herself and hurting the ones she loves? wouldn't that have been a better basis for their eventual romance?

it annoys me that JK Rowling says that the reason ginny is harry's soulmate is because of their strength and passion rather than their shared care for the marginalized and their sensitivity toward the people they love. because the ginny that shared that with harry is gone in the book where she has to get with him.

and while i know the books aren't written to be romantic or focus on any romances, the fact remains that in stories, if anything is to be believed, it must be well-established, and hinny's romance isn't.

the failure of the relationship isn't that it isn't romantic, but that it isn't believable in the first place based on what we know of the characters. because when ginny was her true self, harry didn't notice her. and when ginny was with harry, she wasn't herself.

maybe what's romantic about it is it's practically a greek tragedy in that sense.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 27: Ghosted and Launched

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: All's fair in love and basketball, right....

Welcome to the chapter 27 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Reader's POV

The aftermath of KK’s Instagram live was overwhelming. My notifications were flooded with DMs, tags, and edits from fans trying to piece together whether Paige and I were actually dating. Between that and the teasing from the team, I decided to take a break.

I logged off all my peesonal social media platforms, only leaving the uconn account up so I could do team posts and such. Paige wasn’t thrilled about it, but understood why.

“So, you’re just going to leave me out here to fend off the crazies alone?” she joked, sprawled out on my bed, hair still wet from her post practice shower.

“You’ll be fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re Paige Bueckers. You’ve survived worse.”

She laughed. “True. But still, I’ll miss seeing your name pop up in my DMs.”

“Text me like a normal person, P. Like be for real” I teased, throwing a pillow at her. She caught it with ease and tucking it up her arm before turing her head to speak to me. “Baby, I'm the most normal person you'll ever meet.”

Paige’s POV

While Y/N went ghost, I became more active on social media, well more than I already was. It wasn’t on purpose at first, but then KK, started teasing me about it.

“Paige is soft-launching her relationship like she’s in a rom-com,” she said during one of her many Instagram lives.

Aubrey and Ice giving a knowing look to each other before bursting out in a laugh in all the way from the kitchen.

“Am not!” I argued, though I knew she was right.

It started with a blurry picture of Y/N’s camera sitting on the coffee table, captioned, "She’s been busy 💕."

Then there was the photo of her hand holding a bowl of popcorn during movie night, the caption reading, "Movie nights hit different with the right company."

The comments were wild.

@uconngossip: “WHO IS IT, PAIGE?!”

@teamhuskyforever: “The hand looks like Y/N’s 👀.”

@paigebucketsfan: “Nah, it’s gotta be Azzi. They hang out all the time.”

KK wasn’t helping. Every time she went live, she found a way to tease Y/N and me.

“Y’all want to know who Paige is soft-launching?” she’d say, zooming in on me.

“Ignore her,” I’d groan, covering my face.

One time, Ice “accidentally” shoved Y/N onto my lap during a live. I turned bright red as the comments exploded.

@paigebucketsfan: “CONFIRMED!!!”

@courtqueens: “This is the content we deserve.”

@icebradyysmuse: OK, but Aubs, and Ice laughing in the back though....

@wbbwhore: it's Ice pushing her into Paige’s lap for me...

Reader’s POV

By the time movie night rolled around, I was over the speculation. Paige and I had been talking about going public, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready.

“I think it’s time,” Paige said, sitting beside me on the couch.

“Time for what?” I asked, though I already knew.

“To post. For real this time.”

I hesitated, biting my lip. “You think people will be cool about it?”

“Most will,” she said, taking my hand. “And the ones who aren’t? We’ll deal with them together.”

I smiled, squeezing her hand. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Paige’s POV

We agreed to post at the same time. I picked a picture of her from the first I was with her back in Georgia, but she chose a picture of me asleep in her bed after the family BBQ.

Her caption:"double or nothing, Superstar 🏀💕"

Mine: "All's fair in love and basketball, photographer extraordinaire 📸💕"

The comments came flooding in almost immediately.

@ice.bradyy: great now KK can shutttt up

@kamoreaarnold: girl boo @ice.bradyy

@uconngossip: “KK WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG.”

@teamhuskyforever: “Granny really started this whole thing.”

@paigebucketsfan: “We love to see it! Y/N and Paige = endgame.”

@ballerjade_23: Not the Love and Basketball quotes @yourusername

@yourusername: @ballerjade_23 bestie, pookie it's really fitting if you asked me... now call so I can spill the teaaaa

Reader’s POV

The team was thrilled when they saw our posts. KK, of course, was the loudest.

“FINALLY!” she shouted, throwing her arms around both of us. “Y’all had me carrying this secret for too long.”

“Secret?” Aubrey teased. “You’ve been dropping hints every chance you got.”

Paige laughed, wrapping an arm around my waist. “She’s not wrong.”

Paige’s POV

The next day, during the post-game press conference, the inevitable question came up.

“Paige, your Instagram post last night caused quite a stir. Can you confirm your relationship status?”

I smiled, glancing at the reporter. “Yeah, I can confirm. Y/N and I are dating, and I’m really lucky to have her in my life.”

Reader’s POV

That night, I called Granny to thank her—for the unintended push and for always believing in me.

“You’re welcome, baby,” she said, her voice warm. “But don’t thank me too much. KK’s the one who really made it happen.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I know, she won'tlet us live it down.”

Granny chuckled. “Oh, dear she reminds me of my dearest friend Avión, Kk...she's good people keep her in your life.”

Before I could react, KK’s voice came through the dorm as she walking in the room.

“Nanna! Let me tell you about all the chaos you missed while she was ghosting you nanna!”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help smiling. Life with this team—and with Paige—was never boring.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 , @sevyscoven .... (more to be added... if you wanna be added to the list comment )

[witcheshollow]

Finishing the golden raven knocked me the fuck out so my Coherent and Eloquent thoughts are gonna have to wait so enjoy this very spoilery mash up of whatever is coming to mind now before I do a proper deep dive

-I was really expecting more in terms of jerejean development, but Im not surprised that nora is waiting until the last book. I would assume there is also a bit to do with them having originally not been intended for one another... and on that front I dont remember nora ever confirming them officially just her deleting the ec and saying she isnt letting it define these three books. Which does point to jerejean endgame but ((and correct me NICELY if im wrong)) she never officially said the two of them are to get together.

-tagging off that point: something about the pacing of this book felt very similar to the pacing of tkm. There were quite a few scenes that felt very similar to tkm, the general flow was also very similar. Just instead of jerejeans relationship forming we got jean forming relationships in general

-again tagging onto that, the scene where he braided lailas hair was the scene that made me cry hardest.

-what we saw of the foxes made me so violently ill in the best way possible. The fear in jean at seeing neil laying on the court floor after a raven check AGAIN was so brutal, even through jeremys pov. I dont think we would have survived the raven/fox game through jeans eyes tbh. Jean had too much on the line. He would never admit it but he loves neil, Neil is essentially family to him. We see that in his blind and unending trust in him

-again, sue me, speaking of that. Why the fuck did neil not tell AT LEAST Andrew abt his doings in california??? Was it to avoid bringing up andrews trauma?? Bc anything else goes so violently against everything that andriel is i will not stand for it. If this fandom is good at one thing its saying to hell with canon and making up what we want to believe and I will blind myself into whatever fanon I need to if we get a reason for neils omission as anything other than misguided protection of Andrew. Bc yes, it would be misguided. Letting his bf know he put a fucking hit out on someone is smt he should have done despite the state and circumstances. Though I digress

-back to jean and the fox/raven game. He was so fucking worried abt neil and andrew that I all out refuse to believe we wont get more updates. I know that this series is jeans, and Im not saying give either of them a pov or anything, but it would be nice if we got to see the two of them have a conversation with Jean together in the next book. Maybe andrews arm slung across neils shoulders as they watch him graduate??

-im pretty sure what we are leading up to championship wise is a fox/trojan showdown. Despite what Jean said abt not knowing if the foxes can pull off a miracle two years in a row and the whole freshman fox situation, Im betting that is going to be where we end. And as far as who wins, I have no guesses. The foxes beat the ravens at full strength with nine players and a prayer. Despite how badly the last of the ravens fucked them up, I am willing to put good money that nora will plot armor their asses to championships.

-speaking of plot armor, how the fuck did andrew manage to take neils weight, even if it wasnt all of it, to help him off the field with a broken clavicle that required surgery???? Ik wymack and abby got there in a couple seconds but Andrew still managed to do it

-okay Ill, begrudgingly, put the foxes aside bc i have more thoughts

-I love jeremy, Jean, cat and lailas casual intimacy with one another. The four of them move as a singular unit half the time and it holds a special place in my heart

-I do kind of think that this next book is going to end with Jeremy forsaking his family. We are seeing the cracks in whatever resolve he had up and to this point. And to back that up, while their different in so many ways, the series is taking some hints from the structure of the original trilogy and with that I dont think its an unreasonable stretch to assume that there is going to be another "who is he going to choose" moment. And how beautiful would that be to have the choice be between soulmate and family yet again? This time tho I think we will get a clearer answer if this happens again bc it genuinely took me like two full rereads of the og trilogy to piece together that andrew actually chose neil and I know from friends that Im not alone in this.

-as far as jerejean, I do think that the progression of their relationship is going to be similar tho different from andriels. Also I use their ship names to refere to them bc im too exhausted to type out their names, sue me. Anyways, I think that as far as similarities, there is a good chance it is going to start out sexual. Jeremy doesnt have enough belief in himself to have an actual relationship and Jean still has a lot of internalized homophobia from the nest ((riko)) to sort through. If I had to make an educated guess I would say something abt Jean reclaiming his body and Jeremy slowly realizing that he is allowed to give this part of himself to someone who actually cares for him. Though as far as how I think their gonna be different from andriel... well I mean it doesnt take a genius to figure that their probably going to be a bit more openly affectionate/quite a bit less derranged. I do also assume that if we get a canonical endgame jerejean that Jeremy is going to have to cut ties with his family. They are violently homophobic and will probably not have any interest in entertaining the idea of jeremy being associated with them any further

-stepping away from their relationship bc i just remembered something. Jeremy calls his father sir, which i know is a thing a lot of military kids do but it is also obviously indicative that Jeremy has respect for this man regardless of his continued absence in his life. It might just be that he is the parent who wasnt there to be abusive towards him... or it might be that jeremys father, in some way, deserves the respect?? We know Jeremy has a complicated relationship with his family and how he sees them we see that in his "shes my mom cat" towards the end and ofc throughout the rest of the book. But Jeremy was the one who kept reaching out, and kept his fathers calls logged in a journal, and still refers to him with honorifics- i want more Jeremy lore

-back to jerejean, im willing to bet that we are going to get an "i cant pick him over my family" breakdown from Jeremy and Im guessing that it is going to be William who helps him make the decision. "If you cant tell whos side im on your not as smart as I thought" or whatever it was that he said. He wants Jeremy to be happy, he knows Jeremy is not happy in that damn house, and he has shown that he is willing to buck the rules to ensure that Jeremy can scrounge up whatever joy he can.

-I think jeans moment of panic is going to be more of an internal thing, like "am I even good enough to ask Jeremy to forsake his family for me" and despite all the logic I think it is going to be Neil who he calls. Bc Neil did that. As far as Jean knows Neil could have deadass looked at Andrew and went "me or Aaron" he wasnt there for it like we were. And I think Neil is going to be his usual criptic self but give enough reassurance that he gets an affectionate "your a vile wretch" from Jean or smt of the sort.

-wymack still considering Jean one of his kids even if he isnt a fox warms my heart. He called Jean. He let kevin send Jean to California. He was willing to do whatever Jean asked. Wymack my love

-speaking of coaches who kill me every chance they get: rhemann. Fucking hell i love that man. He had my heart before jeans breakdown but afterwards? He earned himself a nice shiny spot next to wymack. With the way Jean described the preceeding events Im assuming rhemann had to carry him out of the gold court or at the very least shoulder most of his weight to get him out bc Jean seemed fairly out of it, and rhemann definetly had to carry him into the house once they got there bc if jeans recollection is right Im pretty sure he was unconscious and if not then so heavily disassociated I dont think he would have been coherent enough.

-also small shout out to rhemann and adi, love them

-the end scene of the book has me conflicted. And this is probably going to be my last bullet point bc I am dead tired rn. While I do, obviously, understand that Jean wasnt sure what Jeremy was doing when he leaned over to kiss rex/jaberwackys head, I dont really understand what Jeans gut reaction there was. He doesnt explain in his internal monologue, he is far more worried abt making Jeremy less terrified and keeping the dog safe. But the reaction was instinctual, almost seemingly second nature. Which I dont 100% understand. Jeremy and Jean are often very close to one another, in each others orbit more than their not to quote Jean ((yes I know he said this abt andriel that isnt what I meant)) and Jean has stated repeatedly that he whole heartedly trusts Jeremy. Also the gut reaction in context doesnt necessarily make sense to me, it might be a me thing Im not discrediting that, and also traumatized people sometimes have instincts that only make sense to them if that bc their brain is in survival mode, so it might have been an attempt by nora to show that, but having it as the last scene in the book feels odd to me. The only thing I can assume is that Jean wasnt processing what was happening just saw jeremy coming at him quickly and reacted but also we see him not reacting to other similar situations often. You could argue that its bc Jean has feelings for Jeremy but we see Jean not reacting to Jeremy making fast movements, getting in his space and touching him throughout the series so far so I just dont get it. Now there could be a less meta reason for it, being that nora needed smt to trigger Jean thinking abt how the rules he has held to arent in place anymore but they are for him but maybe he could let them go but trauma. But he thinks pretty similar thoughts in other parts of the series too so I just dont understand. And it might be me, Im not saying it vouldnt be. Idk, I feel like the last scene in thebbook was an odd place to have such a vaugely explained and not previously seen trauma response from Jean towards Jeremy.

Okay thats all. Im gonna reread the series with tgr and give more well rounded and coherent thoughts some time in the next week. If you read all of this consider yourself a saint

[cuppajj]

Beast Ancients AU Askbox Thoughts

Hey! This is just to clear up my thought process revolving around BAAU related asks. Please consider reading everything so you know for later!

When is the askbox open?: Whenever I feel like it, mostly. I usually leave it open, but I close it when I'm not in the mood to receive any.

CJJ's BAAU askbox notes:

I answer whatever ask I feel like! I do not operate on a schedule, and I do not guarantee everyone's ask will be answered, especially with factors like the amount I get, motivation to answer, and other things like if the question has been asked and answered before. Please do not feel entitled to hearing from me!

You are less likely to have your question answered if it has already been answered. This means if I said an answer in a previous ask or if a lore post answered it, I'm less likely to respond. There are some instances where I'll have new information to answer a previously asked question, which is why I'm only saying I'm less likely to answer, not ignore repeated questions outright

You might notice that I'm vague with some responses. This is usually because I want to leave things up to speculation! I don't want to share all of BAAU's story and lore from beginning to end immediately, especially when not everything is planned. So with this in mind, I won't (yet) answer endgame questions, or what happens in certain climactic scenes, etc. That is not to know so early on in baau's development! I like sharing things in a sorta linear format. If I get past the introductory part of the AU then I'd be more open to sharing the deeper heavier moments in detail.

Questions that have very subjective/speculative answers (such as the neobeasts reacting to mundane situations, questions that speculate what happens to a certain character not yet talked about, general headcanon posts that aren't super story focused) are also less likely to be answered, or at least answered vaguely. This is because I want to, again, leave room for people's own theories. I like fostering an environment of discussion!

Please do not expect me to take drawing requests! I know I have drawn for some, but it is not a guarantee nor should it be seen as a likely thing.

"Is it ok if my OC is in the au? ... can we write fanfiction?" etc - yes, it's why the tags exist!

I might answer some questions, but I'm no actual answering machine. I'm just an artist who has motivation highs and lows and answers whatever question jumps out at me in the moment. If I were to make answering everything an obligation, I would burn out real fast - and that's not fun for anyone here!

While it might look like I'm trying to bar people from asking certain things in my inbox, I don't intend for that to be the case. I don't want to undervalue the interest a lot of you have in my au. It means a lot that you have all of these questions and thoughts, and I'm very happy you enjoy what I have so far! This post is mostly just me explaining my thought process when I receive asks. For BAAU, I approach things in a mostly question-answer basis with emphasis on story clarification, and some sillies here and there! If you want to take anything from this, it's that I'd highly recommend scouring the #beast ancients au ask and general #beast ancients au tags (and the masterpost). You might find the answer to the question you were looking for, or at least find something that makes you think!

(I'll add more to this if I think of any)

Hope you understand and thanks!

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

speaking my truth…

bychance shippers who ship it as a crack ship, i have nothing against y’all. you do you. you have free will after all. to each their own. ship and let ship.

but uh.

what in the world made y’all think your ship will actually sail. like. i hate to sound like a milkvan but its NOT happening, alright? and if it does that’s just really, really, REALLY poor writing.

first of all, why would you think that will ‘not possible’ byers, will ‘but you make ME feel like I’M not a mistake at all, like I’M better for being different’ byers, will ‘the wise’ byers… the nerdy gay kid who’s been bullied and abused for his queerness all his life… who’s been hopelessly in love with mike for YEARS… would just— rip the band-aid off and go for CHANCE, of all people? The jock, the bully, a guy FOUR YEARS OLDER THAN HIM??

And why would CHANCE fall in love with Will???

And why would the duffers introduce bychance in the last fucking season?????

And to y’all who want bychance to happen for the sake of jealous mike… uhm. let’s not 😀

seriously guys, we don’t need a SECOND love triangle in s5!!! i fucking hope the duffers will focus on byler throughout the whole season. this is the season mike and will are getting together y’all. this isn’t a fanfic on ao3 with all the most common tropes and clichés, this is stranger things 5 and byler is finally fucking happening and y’all want to throw all of their development out the window for BYCHANCE??

and for y’all who want bychance to happen instead of byler… because apparently mike doesn’t deserve will blah blah blah will deserves better blah blah blah… idek what to say to that. like. I could make ten posts consisting of the same amount of words that the Bible has EACH on the topic of byler and why it should happen, HAS to happen… and y’all still wouldn’t get it probably. what are yall even doing reading this post. what are yall doing on the byler tag bro.

but if we ignore the fact that byler must be and IS endgame for a sec, and we go with the narrative of will finding someone else to be with… FIRST OF ALL, why would his new bf be introduced in the last season after he’s spent the whole fucking show pining amd longing for mike?? SECOND OF ALL, anyone but fucking CHANCE, istgggggggg. If yall want Will to get together with someone other than Mike, anyone but Chance. like. HOW DO YALL SEE THE APPEAL?? IN FUCKING TWEAKINV I DONT. UNDERSTAND. YOU GUYS.

But uh. Yeah anyone who ships bychance as a crackship… it’s not my cup of tea, crackships aren’t in general, but I respect you and i respect the ship. Honestly all my reasoning for why bychance doesn’t make any sense doesn’t apply to it if it’s a crackships. Crackships are meant to make no sense, after all. It’s just the ppl who seriously ship it that baffle me

[madlori]

Here's where I am with Buddie.

[CW: I am using the Buddie tag on this post, even though the gist of it is that I'm increasingly doubtful that it'll ever happen. This is NOT an anti-Buddie essay. If you'd rather not read about this topic, please keep scrolling. The bulk of the essay is behind the cut.]

-------

I've thought a lot about this over the weeks since 7x04 aired. It's not a secret that I'm wildly enthusiastic about the BuckTommy pairing (as are many fans) but what does that mean for my thoughts and opinions about Buddie, a pairing I still love and for which I am still writing fic (slowly but surely…)?

It's become increasingly difficult to reconcile hopes for Buddie with dread for a BuckTommy breakup, but if the show managed to pull off a breakup that did not destroy me, I would still be all in for a Buddie endgame.

But more and more, I don't think it's in the cards, and I'm increasingly okay with that.

First off, I know it's a common assumption that Buck and Tommy have an expiration date, and that it cannot last. That may very well be the case, but…the show is not acting like it, nor are they presenting this arc as if it's short-lived. Episodes 4-6, while also being about other things (especially the amazing Madney wedding plot in 6) were also a bit of a trilogy about Buck discovering his sexuality and taking tentative steps into a relationship with another man. It didn't go…particularly smoothly, but the events of 7x06 where they were concerned had a completely different tone. They had a much more settled vibe in the karaoke club scenes, from Tommy's very boyfriendly "check-in" look before he had to leave, to Buck's casual/distracted "Be safe" (as if he's said this before) and just how they spoke to each other and touched each other was much more comfortable than in the coffee meetup. Which makes me think it's been a few weeks and they've seen each other a few times in the interim.

And then that kiss. Putting aside that it was juxtaposed with a literal wedding kiss, there was nothing uncertain or hesitant about it. It felt like a very arc-capping kiss, coupled with the reveal to the rest of Buck's friends and family, and the clear message was "Okay, they're done 'getting together' now, they are together and will be together going forward, even if we don't see Tommy every episode (much as we don't see Karen every episode)." We know Tommy will be around through the end of S8, if not in every remaining episode. After that, we'll see.

A lot of fans have viewed one of the guys coming out as queer to be a first step towards a Buddie future, but I have to say I've never been super comfortable with that logic. I've always thought that if they were going to get together, or both be revealed to be queer, it would have to be at the same time, with each other, via them getting together. The minute they pulled the trigger on Bisexual Buck, I immediately thought that this made Buddie far less likely. Why?

Because it would mean that the writers/showrunners would be making BOTH their "hot younger firefighter" characters queer…separately. In separate storylines. Distinct from each other. And I just don't see that happening. I'm not saying it SHOULDN'T happen. I'd be over the moon. I'm saying I think that's unlikely.

As much as it pains me to say it, I think Eddie will be written as straight and will continue to be written as straight. I don't disagree with the many examples of queer coding we've all seen - the problem is all of them can be just as easily interpreted as arising from a different trauma. Almost everything we've seen from him that could very legitimately be read as breadcrumbs for a queer identity for him could also be rooted in his trauma over Shannon's death, his family trauma, his PTSD, or his general anxiety over being enough for people. He can be read as having sexuality crises. But he can also be read as having other crises with the same results.

I'm not seeing a sexuality crisis for Eddie in the future. I just don't feel like that's where they're taking him. They're taking him somewhere -- he's got storylines coming up -- but I think they're going to have to do with his family, possibly his friendship with Buck, maybe his relationship (I think we can all agree Marisol isn't going to last, she's like the anti-Tommy in that she's been around way longer but has infinitely less of a presence), and Christopher. That's a lot to deal with just right there. If I'm wrong, I will be delighted to be wrong.

But.

I think the show will continue to prioritize and showcase Buck and Eddie's very deep and emotional friendship, which is revolutionary in its own quiet way. Another thing that makes me think they're setting Tommy up to be a long term love interest is that one of the first things they did with him was affirm that he will not come between Buck and Eddie, give him his own relationship with Eddie and Chris, and have him show that he understands and respects the depth of their bond. Not to mention they've integrated him with the firefam. No other of Buck's love interests have gotten this treatment (Taylor had the most contact with the firefam, but I don't think anyone would say she was integrated, LOL). And it shows how committed they are to maintaining Buck and Eddie's friendship as a key emotional element of the show. Tim has also said this, repeatedly.

People often say that there's no explanation for how Buck and Eddie are with each other if it's not romantic - I read a fantastic essay that pointed out that this statement is the reason their platonic friendship IS so important. Men should be able to be vulnerable and loving with each other without it being romantic, as women can be. If we're unable to see a loving friendship without interpreting it as romantic or sexual, what does that say about the kind of male friendships we see everywhere, that makes this one so different?

I know this is an old anti-Buddie argument and I'm not anti-Buddie nor do I mean it's wrong to see it as romantic. I still do. I'm saying if it's not, if it never is, what it is, is already valuable and special, especially when one of them is now openly queer and dating a man.

Anyway. That's where I am with it, and my interpretation of where the show is with it.

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - My Fawn & My Shadow: Epilogue

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Dear Hoteliers,

Helluva Boss events take place after Apology Tour and after the most recent Helluva Boss short “Mission 4: Chupacabra.”

<3 Stay smutty

My Fawn & My Shadow: Epilogue

Content Warning: Self Harm, abuse, mental health, mentions of suicide

Just Outside Levittown, Envy

Tom Trench: “Five years after 'The Massacre,' V Tower is finally being rebuilt!”

Katie Killjoy: “That’s right, Tom! The Sins of Lust and Gluttony purchased a 50/50 share of the building three years ago, but after a long legal battle with Lucifer Morningstar, reconstruction can finally begin!”

Tom: “Today marks a new era between Hell Natives and Human Sinners after the Sins won the right to purchase property and run business within the once forbidden Circle! What does this mean for the travel ban on the other Rings? What does this mean for the economy now that Hell Natives can run and own businesses within the Pride Ring? And who will soothe the King’s butt after it was kicked in court?“

Katie: “In other news, Massacre memorials are set to begin tonight…”

You clicked the radio off.

Has it truly been five years already?

Vox.

Velvette.

Crim.

The hundreds of Souls who all got in the way.

Carmilla who tried to stop you but died trying.

The THOUSANDS of Souls after who died for no reason.

Massacred.

Charlie tried to intervene, but Vaggie wouldn’t let her near you.

Rosie focused on getting everyone away from you.

Lucifer was hurt but thankfully lived.

In the end it was Angel who stopped you. Angel who knew the truth. Angel who told you to think of the baby…

Then it was Husk who carried you through the portal to this safe house where you still remained.

The Entertainment District had been leveled by the time you had finished.

And the red staining your fingers still hadn’t faded, no matter how hard you scrubbed.

It was the least you deserved.

Eve has been quiet since then, popping up for short moments of conversation and then disappearing. It’s almost as if all the power used to take out half of Pentagram City had drained her batteries.

Or…

Perhaps she had known that, after the destruction, you had truly given up.

No more Endgame. No more games in general. No schemes or plans or revenge.

You simply just wanted to be.

You would have ended it all had you not had a reason to go on.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Turning off the faucet, you start the kettle and head for the door.

“Tomatuh!” Rosie pressed a kiss to your cheek, her arms filled with supplies she often brought along despite your protests. Mostly food but sometimes gifts - clothes she made herself.

“Shh,” you took the goods from her. “You’re early, she’s still asleep.”

Rosie hesitated in the doorway.

“Is something wrong?”

“Well,” Rosie adjusted her gloves.

Something was wrong.

“Tomatuh, you know I love you and that little tyke.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But…?”

“Can I come in yet or what?” Vaggie stepped into the kitchen.

You grit your teeth. “Rosie!”

“Hey!” The moth demon stepped in front of the Overlord. Still the warrior she was created to be. “Rosie forbade me from coming but I pushed myself through your stupid portal anyway!”

“That portal,” You held your ground, trying to look as formidable as possible - which admittedly was more pathetic than you assumed given the state of your health. “Is for Rosie only. It is not to be used for gallivanting across the Rings!”

No one was allowed here save for Rosie. The portal opened at the same time everyday - automatic magic she helped you to set up. It opened right on the porch and closed the moment she stepped through.

For Rosie. It was too much of a risk for the others to know your location. They can be captured and they can be interrogated by Heaven. Rosie was a much bigger fish to go after than say someone such as Husk.

“Listen here, asshole! I’m here because Charlie asked me to deliver this personally!” The ex-Exorcist shoved a box into your chest. “The only reason she isn’t here is because she’s at home in our bed balling her eyes out!”

The box…

“Vaggie,” Rosie pulled her back. “That’s enough.”

…it smells like…

No. That can’t be.

“…so ungrateful for everything we did for you!”

“Vagatha, that is enough! Go wait outside.”

The forest after a storm…

“She didn’t mean it.” Rosie grabbed your attention.

Your fingers started to tremble. “Where did this come from?”

Rosie pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Charlie had it boxed up at the Hotel. Apparently they did some fall cleaning with all the new Hotel guests and Angel accidentally unboxed it.”

Oh, Angel.

“Charlie’s been a mess ever since. She insisted that be sent to you right away.”

Tears welled in your eyes.

“I think I’ll take my tea at home today.” Rosie pulled you into a hug. “I love ya, tomatuh. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell the little tyke I’ll bring her somethun’ special tomorruh!”

And then she left.

Leaving you alone with a piece of him.

Oh! What could it be? Eve materialized on your kitchen counter.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer. Your entire body and mind froze, completely entranced with the box in your hand.

All of Alastor’s stuff had been boxed up and either moved to his radio tower or to Rosie. You forbade anyone from going to the tower - not that you yourself had returned to it since. Rosie has been there a few times to clean and check on the place but other than that…

“There were only a few things missing…” The package was wrapped in a thick layer of dust. The only evidence that the box had been opened was the few fingerprints around the edges. Angel's fingerprints? Charlie's?

You peeled the tape off carefully, afraid that ripping the box would somehow mare his memory.

"Holy shit," you collapsed over the box and sobbed.

Alastor's coat lay folded inside - the black pinstripe suit jacket he died in. Speckles of golden and red blood crusted the surface, the fabric ripped diagonally across the chest. Atop sat Alastor's microphone, busted in half along the pole.

Something inside your chest snapped as your fingers traced the cut.

“Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine…" You mumbled.

That’s what Alastor had said to you when he died.

Dying for love.

I miss him too. The embodiment of power leans over your shoulder and huffs. Eve was fun for a while, but I agreed with you. Her plans were small and easily fixed. I never even introduced myself to her. Then I met you, and your plans were extraordinary - I didn’t even think of making Heaven destroy itself. Then we met him. She motioned to the jacket. You fell in love with the man, but I’m why you fell in love with his thirst for power and chaos.

You rubbed the tears from your eyes, afraid of crying too loud for fear of waking the toddler in the next room. “I could feel his magic even before we met. That day I came to the Hotel and Sir Pentious attacked, I felt his static moments before he appeared. I always knew before he was going to enter a room and when his shadow was nearby. Others could not. We had a connection long before the deal we made atop his radio tower - a pull I could never quite put my finger on. I've never had that with anyone else, not even Eve. You’re the reason why I could always feel his magic? Why I had access to his static even though I voided the contract? Why I could summon static during the Extermination?”

Oh, no. She waived her hands. I have nothing to do with Soulmates and Magic Bridges.

“Wh-what?” You stammered.

Look I know things but my magic can’t do everything…

“No. Not that. Can you explain the Soulmate part?”

Wait. You didn’t know? Ha! Oh, my God this is rich!

You blinked. “But Angels don’t have Souls…”

She shot you a dumb look, And who told you that?

You shrugged sheepishly, “Dad?”

Ugh! She rubbed her face. How can you be so smart and yet so dumb at the same time?

“Hey!”

Angel’s have Souls, babe. Soulmates share their Souls. One Soul in two bodies.

“But why would Dad make me a Soulmate?”

Answer: he didn’t. He’s a dick. But hear me out. You have been so sad and so alone for so long, do you ever think that maybe you wanted it enough that YOU made it happen. YOU willed it into being? Your upbringing wasn't precisely the picture-perfect happy childhood.

“That’s insane!”

Oh, well. Excuse me. I’m just the Book of Knowledge, I don’t know anything.

“I made Alastor?”

No! Eve threw her hands in the air. You'd shush her but no one else but you could hear her. You made a Soulmate! Fate decided who. Fuck, girl. It took thousands of years to find him, not like the Soul just popped into a body and called it yours. The Soul is made and ripped into two, it’s probably been floating around the Ether waiting for him.

“Oh…” You fisted the lapel of the jacket, finding comfort in the feel of the jacket in your hand.

That’s a compliment. Some people get shit Soulmates. Sounds like Fate was picky with you.

That made you feel a bit better.

Wait.

“Why are you trying to comfort me? You never try to comfort me.”

It’s not comfort, bitch. It’s pity.

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks.”

Eve didn’t disappear. She sat back on the armchair and watched as you folded the jacket into a nice pile on the table. “What?”

The embodiment of power crossed her legs and rested her chin in her hand. Nothing. Just waiting.

“Waiting for what?”

For you to figure it out.

“Figure what…”

Why I'm pitying you with this knowledge.

Whatever...

You grabbed for the pieces of microphone left inside the box but accidentally knocked it off the table instead. The cardboard came crashing down along with the metal. It smacked against the tile, eliciting a wave if green sparks as the microphone came to rest a few feet away.

Holy shit.

… green static.

Oh, shit!

There it is. Eve smiled.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.

That's not possible. Green static was Alastor's magic. Alastor is gone. Therefore, so should his magic.

But if his magic was still here...

Angel’s have Souls, babe. Soulmates share their Souls. One Soul in two bodies.

You looked at your hands.

It wasn't possible.

You grabbed the jacket and held it against your chest, letting Alastor's natural musk drown you in a sea of his memory. Of his hands in your hair. Of his cockeyed smile whenever his true self shined through. Of his laugh, absent of the radio static.

Blue flame lit up your right hand and in your left...

Green.

Holy shit.

“Wait but how do I…?” You spun, preparing a barrage of questions to through at Even, but just as you had figured it out, the embodiment of power disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Bitch.

Eve wasn’t going dormant, she was just ghosting you - literally.

But then again, you already knew where to start.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way to the bedroom.

You practically tripped over yourself as you flipped on the lights. “Mary Marie, it’s time to wake up.”

“Maman?”

“I’m sorry, my fawn, but it’s time to go.” You threw clothes into a bag, along with a few essentials such as a pink bedazzled hair brush and a singing toothbrush that played Verosika Mayday as you brushed.

The small child, previously tucked into her crib for her daily nap, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “Mais, maman, où allons-nous?”

Flinging the backpack over your shoulder, you wrapped her favorite pink fuzzy blanket around her and pulled her from the crib. “We are going to visit Auntie Rosie.”

“No! My Angel!” She screamed, reaching for the stuffed animal in her crib.

You tucked the black cat into her arms and sped from the room. Perhaps one day you’d explain the irony to her, but today was not that day.

As you ran from the house, child in one arm and jacket and staff in the other, you felt small hands on your cheeks demanding your attention. “Maman, pourquoi es-tu si triste?”

You paused. “What?”

SNAP! The portal to Rosie’s Emporium cracked through the wall of reality.

“Why are you so sad?” She rubbed the tears from your cheeks.

You paused.

Were you still crying?

“I don’t know…”

You did know, but how did you tell your almost five year old that there was a chance - a minuscule chance but still a chance - that her father might still be alive.

And that bringing him back might kill you in the process.

She dug her small hands into your cheeks and forced the edges of your mouth up. “You should smile more, Maman.”

A sob tore its way through your chest.

Mary Marie Hartfelt was born 7lbs and 3oz in a beachside safe house outside of Levittown, Envy. Named for her grandmother on her father’s side, Rosie would tell you that she’s the spitting image of you but that was due large in part to her blonde hair and pale complexion. In reality, you couldn’t look at her and not see her father.

She had the same small tuft of red fur for a tail, which she hated you pulling, and a matching set of ears, which she demanded you scratched every night before bed. Her legs ended in red hooves that she loved when you painted pink - her favorite color - and her eyes…

She had her father’s red irises.

And her father’s temper. God forbid she didn’t get her way - she was a total spitfire. At least she hadn’t sprouted wings, the crawling phase was already too much to bear as a single parent - despite Rosie’s help. Actually the only time she calmed down was when Rosie came over for tea.

Chai - Mary Marie’s favorite.

She had her father’s appetite and her mother’s knack for weaponry. God forbid she get into any weapons unsupervised.

Her magic started showing early - most notably during her terrible twos when she almost burned down the house: electricity. Your blue fire plus her father’s green static gave birth to red electricity.

Thankfully none of the power from the Book of Knowledge seeped into her or impacted the pregnancy in anyway. Either Eve was quite attached to you or you got lucky - really lucky.

Hell have no furry like existence’s most powerful toddler throwing a tantrum.

That was your fault however. After the battle and the Massacre, Heaven was on high alert. Everyone now knew that God was missing and Mikaela Morningstar was a traitor. So, naturally, the story became that you killed God and were on the run.

If only the first part were true…

But you were on the run. Only Rosie knew your location - all communications had to go through her. Which meant you hadn’t seen Husk or Angel in years. They wrote you letters though and you wrote back (Vox was dead but you still wouldn’t risk a phone or television). Mary Marie even drew a few pictures for you to include.

What you didn’t tell her was that you ordered everything burned once they read it.

One day, when everything has calmed down, you and Mary Marie would return home.

Huh, funny how the Hotel was now home in your mind.

“I love you, my fawn.” You tickled her belly, eliciting the cutest giggle before stepping through the portal.

The day hadn't yet come when Mary Marie asked about her father, but you knew one day it would. She had seen parents during your outings and knew of relationships, but she hadn't fully grasped the concept that something was amiss.

Yes, you were sad - a lot - but, unfortunately, it was something the child had come to understand as normal. There were times when her mother would break down crying for no reason or days when she couldn't get out of bed when it was raining. There were songs she refused to listen to on the radio and recipes she'd spend hours in the kitchen trying to perfect: gumbo, Mary Marie was sick of it.

And, no matter what, she always wore her hair in a red hair clip.

Her mother was odd and always a little sad despite her smile but thankfully Mary Marie did not yet have to be burdened with the truth. Where was her father? Why did they always have to wear cloaks when they went outside? Why couldn't they meet any of mother's friends besides Rosie? Why couldn't she play with any of the other children?

“Oh, my stars!” Rosie was curled up on her couch, tea cup in hand, clearly enveloped in some book on her coffee table.

Right. You kicked her out before her daily tea time.

“Auntie!” Mary Marie jumped from your arms. Enveloped in her pink blanket, the tiny tyke jumped into Rosie’s awaiting arms.

“Hello, my sweet.” The Overlord hugged her back.

You threw her bags on the loveseat. “I need a favor.”

Rosie’s look of confusion turned serious, “Okay.”

Mary Marie played with Rosie’s collection of Build-A-Bones while you talked - creating small towers of remains which she proceeded to zap with electricity till they turned to ash.

Told you she was a spitfire.

While you told your tale to Rosie, you watched her look of concern turn to outright denial. “No!”

Mary Marie jumped at the sudden turn in conversation.

“Rosie,” you grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the other room, one eye still on the fawn as she returned to her undead masterpiece. “If there is even a small chance that this could work -.”

“And you die in the process?” She interrupted in a whisper. “You’d be robbing that beautiful child of both her father and mother.”

“I owe it to that child to try. To bring her father back-!”

“Is that what this is truly about, tomatuh? It sounds like you’re doing this for you.”

“Rosie-.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She put up a hand. “This is irresponsible and based off of knowledge fed to you by her. Remember the last time you let Eve influence you?”

How could you forget? You took out half of Pentagram City.

You stepped back, your teeth clenched in anger. Not at Rosie, you could never get made at Rosie, but she was making it so easy to. “I’m doing this Rosie - with or without your blessing.” You nodded to your child, who was completely unaware of the happenings in the adjacent room. “Look after her, for me. Please?”

She huffed, “If Angel were here, he’d talk some sense into you.”

“Good thing he isn’t.”

Rosie stared you down for a long time, waiting for you to break, but you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

“You know," she said, placing a hand on your cheek, her pupilless eyes softening. "I think of you like a daughter."

"I know, Rosie."

"I'm supposed to stop you." She smiled sweetly.

"I know."

"I'm not going to."

Your shoulders relaxed. "I know."

Rosie knows how powerful you are. She knew the day you practically fell on top of her that first day in Hell, and she knows now, even with tears in your eyes. She saw your resilience despite the countless days Carmilla tortured you. She knew your past and what you had come to endure. If Rosie truly believed this would kill you, she'd stop you.

Mary Marie had become her granddaughter - she'd never let that child come to harm. She'd never let that child lose a mother, but at the same time, she knew - she knew - that you had to do this.

You have been slowly decaying over the years. Alastor's death had taken its toll.

At the beginning, you couldn’t get out of bed. Save for the morning sickness and to use the bathroom. Rosie kept you alive, kept you fed and clean. If it wasn’t for this woman, who knows where you’d be right now.

Then Mary Marie was born and things got a little better - the days got a little brighter. Yet you still found yourself crying in the kitchen whenever jazz came on on the radio. Or felt your heart skip a beat whenever a man in a dark suit and fedora walked past. Or felt that you couldn’t go outside for days after it rained for fear of it smelling too much like him.

You could barely maintain weight as you found it hard to eat. Your muscle was long gone and eyes permanently sunken from the years of crying.

Everything felt heavier. The world felt heavier.

But you kept yourself going, your only function to be a mother, to keep the last bit of Alastor alive.

Yet, Mary Marie was a walking memory of him: a living ghost. Which made it all the easier to love her but all the harder to stay strong.

The Overlord dropped her guard. “If you somehow get your hands on the Grimoire to do this, and that is a big ‘if,’ be safe. If not for my sake, then for hers."

You beamed, the first time you had truly smiled about something that didn’t regard Mary Marie in years. “Thank you, Rosie!” You pulled her into a hug. “I need one more thing before I go.”

After the battle atop V Tower, Lucifer had taken your cloak - the one inscribed in Leviathan. At some point over the years, your brother didn’t know what to do with it, but he certainly didn’t want to keep it. Not after the destruction you caused at the Massacre. The cloak - along with your things at the Hotel that the Hotel Natives helped clear out - were sent to Rosie. You reclaimed most of it for your beach house in Envy, but what you didn’t use Rosie stored for you.

Including the infamous cloak which started all your Shadow Overlord business.

After a quick kiss for Mary Marie and a hug ensuring you’d be right back, you snapped a portal to visit an old friend.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” The imp dove behind his desk. “There’s a front door for a fucking reason people!”

The office was empty, save for Blitz sulking in his chair while he cleaned some sort of jewel on his desk. Where the others were at you didn’t know but were thankful for it. Normally this office was chaos and you really didn’t want that right now.

“Hello Blitz,” you pulled back the hood.

“Whaaaaaaaaat?” The imp’s jaw fell.

“I need the book.” Straight to the point.

His eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead or something?” Blitz slowly climbed back into his chair.

Fuck, why did it smell like a barnyard in here?

“Not quite,” you took a seat.

When was the last time you did something like this? The last time you played the role of Shadow Overlord? When was the last time you donned this dusty cloak, sat lax in a chair, and demanded something of a Soul so nonchalantly as if it wasn’t important at all?

Did you miss those days?

“I need the Grimoire,” you repeated.

Blitz did not like the lack of explanation that you were giving him. His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

You clenched your fist beneath your cloak. That’s when you noticed the inter-dimensional gem sitting atop the table.

He doesn’t have it.

“How is Stolas these days?” You asked, running a finger across his desk.

The imp slowly pulled the gem back. You could literally portal across dimensions, if the imp thinks you seek a little trinket from Asmodeus then he wasn’t as smart as you gave him credit for.

“You know, bitch. You can’t just show up here making demands after all these years and expect us to jump when you say how high!” He jutted a finger out in your direction.

This was going swimmingly.

You stood. “It was so nice to see you again, Blitzy.”

“Fuck you, Angel bitch!” He flipped you off as you stepped through the portal.

Blitz is clearly pissed about something. Given that he now had an inter-dimensional gem and not the Grimoire, you were about to find out why as you knocked on the door of its owner.

“Gerald, if my dad Hell Eats one more pint of ice cream, just cancel the fuckin’-. Oh.”

Octavia answered the door.

You pulled back your hood just a touch and waived awkwardly, “Hey.”

And then she slammed the door in your face.

“Octavia, wait!” You practically jumped on the door, panic building in your chest. “Please! I need your help!”

Silence and then, “You left me!”

You blinked. What is she talking about?

“You dropped me off after the hospital and you left! I never saw you again!”

Oh… She means after Stolas told you off and forbade you from seeing her again.

“Your dad -!”

“I know what my dad said!”

“Then you know -!”

“Who cares what my dad said, that isn’t the point! I thought you were my friend, but it turns out you’re just like everyone else!” You heard feet stomping away.

Shit. Leaning against the door, you slowly sank to the ground. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to be left behind too.”

Great. Now what are you going to do?

You pulled the chain from beneath your shirt and held it between your fingers. Eve was right, Alastor was an emerald man.

Wrapped in gold as if rays of the sun, was a green emerald ring. You had thought it would be a ruby or a diamond, but green represented Alastor’s magic and that felt more suiting.

“I miss you so much it hurts.” You choked.

It had taken exactly one year before you could open the leather box Alastor left behind. You felt so guilty doing so, knowing it would never be his hand which placed it upon your finger. So, you never put it on, but you couldn’t let it go either. Thus, here it sat, hooked around a chain hanging over your heart.

“Octavia, is that my ice cream?”

SLAM!

The back of your head smacked tile as the door swung open.

“Oh, my,” A blurry Stolas put a hand to his lips.

“Hey, Stolas,” You grunted.

“Thestral?” Then his face fell flat. “Mikaela Morningstar. I thought I told you -“

“Wait!” You held your hands up. “I need your help. Please, just hear me out!”

The Prince took a look around, noticing the eyes stopping in the street to stare. “Come inside.”

One cup of tea and an ice pack later…

“You know, I don’t always harbor fugitives in my home.” The Prince stood astutely, one pinky feather out as he sipped from the fine china.

“I’m not looking for you to hide me.” You ignored the tea, the bubbles of anxiety in your chest too much to handle right now. “I’m looking to borrow the Grimoire.”

Stolas did not look surprised.

And then you explained why.

“… I loved him and he’s gone. If you had a chance to save someone you loved, wouldn’t you?”

Stolas eyed you, “And you’d be willing to die for him?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“This goes against everything the Goetia stands for.”

“I know.”

“Everything I’m supposed to represent.”

“I know.”

“Why are you asking me and not trying to steal it?”

You huffed. “I’m tired, Stolas. I’m so very tired.”

So tired your bones felt like led.

The Prince sighed. “I’ve always wanted that.” He placed the cup down gently. “I just... want someone to care, if I stay or go. I want someone to want me. To want to see me. To hold me. To look at me and think 'You're the only one I want! I desire to hold you and talk to you, and never let you feel so... alone…”

Ah, now you understood.

You placed a hand atop his wing. “I’m sorry about Blitz.”

And he lay his other atop yours. “Follow me.”

____________________________________________

You landed atop the balcony, a layer of dust parting in your wake.

The metal was absent of any signs of what took place here. You had Rosie to thank for that. She came by and cleaned up everything after…

His stuff was still here, but the curtains were drawn so you didn’t have to see any of it. You might break down again if you did.

Nothing’s changed. Eve materialized in a puff of black smoke wearing the same clothes she died in. The same clothes you killed her in.

You didn’t let your mind dwell on it too long. “Let’s get started.”

You drew the Circle of Rebirth in the same spot Alastor died - courtesy of Stolas' Grimoire. The Circle is a form of ancient and forbidden magic, guarded by the Goetia but not forgotten entirely. You vaguely remember hearing rumors of it from a time you could no longer remember.

Different from a Summoning Circle - which knew the recipient’s Soul location - or a Trapping Circle - which trapped beings of other planes within it (the same Circle Eve used to trap you in the airplane hanger a millennia ago), a Circle of Rebirth was meant to trap a dying Soul’s fragments so one could piece them back together.

Technically, that meant the person had to die while in the circle for it to work.

Do you get where I am going with this?

You stood, hand covered in red chalk, and talked with Eve as you finished up the final touches. “So, a Soulmate is of one Soul in two bodies. That means Alastor’s Soul did not fade when he died. I’m carrying it.”

But it’s also technically yours. Eve sat back against the railing, a smug look on her face.

“So, we do what I did accidentally all those years ago. We rip my Soul in half.”

I like it! Eve practically cheered.

And if it doesn’t work then you die… Cool. Okay. No stress at all.

You grabbed Alastor’s jacket and cane, and placed it on your lap as you sat at the center of the Circle.

Eve bent over so she was eye level with you. Are you ready to die?

You died five years ago when Alastor took that bullet for you…

“If I die, what happens to you?” You lifted a brow.

Hmmm, Eve thought a moment. There’s this adorable little product of power and chaos I’ve been dying to play with.

You saw red. “Eve!”

But before you had a chance to lunge, Eve melted into a mass of ink and began the spell.

A hurricane erupted around you, whipping your hair about your face and blinding you from the world.

It exploded into the sky, bringing with it lightning and rain. A cacophony of torrential pain fell upon you as the rain pelted your skin and the wind tore at your flesh.

It felt as if your entire being, every molecular connection, was slowly being ripped in half. Green and blue light exploded from your scar as your Soul slowly seeped out from your form.

Eyes filled with burning tears, you watched as the specks of green slowly floated away and collected into a solid mass before your eyes.

The mass slowly took shape, giving birth to arms and legs…

Power is of two kinds…

...and tall ears…

One is obtained by fear…

Details set in. Alastor’s face took form in a hue of green. His eyes… His lips…

And the other by love…

“Alastor?” You screamed over the wind. You screamed through the pain.

Power derived from love…

And then the ink set in. From the wind itself the liquid trailed into the blue, swirling about as if oil in water.

The demon smiled.

…is a thousand times more powerful than fear.

And then everything exploded.

____________________________________________

As if submerged in a river of silk, your body slipped away.

No sights. No sounds. No touch.

You were the world, and the world was nothing. Everything existed all at once and yet not at all.

You were the absence of existence, yet you continued to exist. Without form and body, you were consciousness as its birth and end.

You were dying.

If you had told yourself at the beginning of time that this is where you would end up, you would have said to yourself that you were nuts.

Before everything, you were a soldier. A general. A physical representation of God’s Will.

And everything was perfect.

Carry out missions. Train. Report. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Existence was simple and predictable, but that's what you liked about it.

Then the beatings began.

You questioned it at first. Why did God only ever call you to his office alone? Why were you the only Angel with bruises and marks not born from war?

Why was he so angry?

Then the answer became apparent because he told you.

Everything that went wrong in his life was your fault.

YOUR FAULT.

Even if it had nothing to do with you or your missions… It was your fault.

Then you tried to control the uncontrollable in order to lessen the beatings.

Which just made things worse.

Because it was your fault.

You kept it hidden because you were ordered to. But also because it would have been embarrassing.

How could God’s General, leader of his armies and vanquisher of the Leviathans not even protect herself?

Things changed; you rebelled and ran away with Eve, thinking that was the fix you needed. You thought you had moved on. You thought you had healed. But trauma is a scar that never heals, doomed to rip open again and again.

There might have come a day when you had moved on. When God was cold and dead beneath your feet, and everyone who let this happen had been destroyed or long gone by the time you broke down Heaven’s Gate.

That was the plan at least.

Power and chaos and revenge… That was what was missing from your mantra: revenge.

But, here you are: a pesky story of revenge that went nowhere.

And now you’re dead.

And it’s all your fault.

You wonder what would have happened had you not met Alastor. Had you shown up to the Hotel that day and he was woefully absent from the cast, still in Heaven with Lilith - or if Lilith had never recruited the Overlord to begin with.

You wouldn't have Mary Marie...

Wait, who is Mary Marie?

You felt your thoughts starting to slip away.

Dying is confusing.

But painless.

The end of existence began creeping in, growing ever closer as if tidal waves on either side of you.

Thankfully, painless.

And you were okay with that.

"Not so fast, my doe."

____________________________________________

In an explosion of greens and blues, you were flung back. Your head hit the wall of glass with a loud crack, and your body scorched from the heat as the explosion dissipated.

The thunder ceased. The rain dried. The wind slowed.

Nothing but the silence of death filled your ears - is what you thought, anyway, but death had been painless. This was not death.

"Fuck," you groaned. The scar across your front burned as you sat up. The skin beneath your shirt felt fragile as if newly minted during the moments of your... hallucination?

And when the world stopped spinning, you froze.

A body lay curled in the fetal position, directly at the center of the Circle of Rebirth. Green steam floated off the figure, now wrapped in the black jacket he died in. In his hands, he held a microphone he often used as a cane, freshly made whole once more.

The demon groaned as words flew across his bare skin.

Holy shit.

"Alastor?" Hesitantly, you crawled to the Circle.

An ear popped up, turning in your direction as you stopped just at the edge.

"Alastor Hartfelt?" You reached slowly for his shoulder.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

A sob tore through your chest. "It's me. It's..."

"My doe."

The next thing you know, you had arms wrapped around you and warm lips on your own. You sobbed into his mouth, the same familiar mouth belonging to the demon you loved.

His hands were soft as they cupped your cheeks, as the scent of the forest after a rainstorm filled your nose. His hair curled around your fingers, knotting itself as you plunged them deeper.

Alastor pulled you into his lap. Cocooning you in his warmth. He was always so warm...

The demon broke the kiss, catching his breath as he said, "Shed not tears for me, my doe."

Red irises glinted with tears of their own. A green "X" was now present between his eyes were the bullet once hit.

"You left me," you sobbed. Rivers of woe flooded down your face and soaked into his gloves.

"I did not." He rested his forehead on yours. The demon breathed, simply enjoying the mere presence of you. "I never left. I have been here the entire time."

You blinked. "What?"

"I have held you long into the night when you could not sleep and guarded you when you did. I was the shoulder you cried on when you needed to and dried your tears when you were done. I caught you when you crumbled and helped you find your feet once more. I ensured no harm ever came to you and no enemy ever found you." Alastor dried the tears on your cheeks.

"I have stood by your side every moment since that day." He went for the chain around your neck and broke it in two.

"I promised you I would never leave, and I did not. I have been at your side for the past five years." He unhooked the ring, and you watched as he slipped it on your finger. "You just didn't know it." The demon pressed a kiss to your hand. “Your personal guardian angel.”

Life flooded back into your body. "Alastor!" You flung your arms around the demon, burying your face in his jacket as you sobbed.

"I love you, my doe." He held you tight.

You shook your head, "Al, I am so sorry. It's all my..."

"Stop," He held your face in his hands, his claws brushing your cheeks. "Saving you was my choice, and I'd do it again, given the chance. Your death is mine to claim, remember?"

You chuckled. How ridiculous that sounded, given the current circumstances. "How could I forget?"

Pressing another kiss to your cheek, he chuckled.

God, you missed that sound.

With his hand in yours, you watched the words from the Book of Knowledge flow from your skin into his. "How is this possible?"

Blue fire erupted along your fingers, calling to his green static.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

Alastor's heart.

"My Soulmate." The demon's purr filled your chest with warmth. "That explains everything."

"I always thought it was an old wives' tale, something you told children at night before bed." You watched the green static dance across your arm, bending and moving at your will.

And the ink. The ink flowed along Alastor's jacket as if it were his own.

Long ago, you killed the Second Lady because she had tied her Soul with the power from the Book of Knowledge, thus tying it to yours. By splitting it in half, the two of you now share it, along with your original magic.

Power and chaos and love...

"Thankfully not." Alastor was solid beneath your touch. His breath filled your lungs with new life. His magic tore the weight from your bones. His heartbeat synced with yours and willed it back to full strength.

You felt reborn.

Al brushed the hair from your face, the warmth from his breath hot on your skin.

Alive. Alive. Alive. Your body chanted.

Alastor was alive.

The demon cupped your cheeks and tilted your face up to his. "Now, where is she?"

You scrunched your nose, "Who?"

The demon smile went cockeyed - a soft, toothless grin.

"My daughter."

And then the Radio Demon kissed his Shadow, marking the beginning of a very long afterlife together.

To power, chaos, and love, dear readers… 

Thanks for reading, Hoteliers <3

-> Afterword

Tagged Hoteliers:

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526 @eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick @cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @sawi1987 @mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah @diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta @reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages @chibistar45 @rapunzelbro @stephydearestxo

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 2 Part 2

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: As spring time comes, the police station finds itself intensely focused on several cold murder cases linked to the gangs. Amidst this chaos, it's hard to find time for anything else except for grappling with the position in the team and the burning ambition to be accepted, but something lovely might just be awaiting right behind the corner. The complicated relationship with the Min gang continues to get even more muddled.

Chapter word count: 18.3k

Warnings: discussion of crimes and murders, mentions of violence and gore (nothing too graphic, they're vaguely describing a murder scene), general anxiety? (our girl is NERVOUS in this one), Yoongi almost isn't in this chapter, start of reader x OC, gets suggestive at the end (it's not with Yoongi but he IS endgame, dw), also this chapter might be a bit slower and investigation and exposition heavy

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: unexpected sleepover kept me busy most of the weekend but here finally comes the second part of the chapter, i'm so excited for you to read the ending hehehe! let me know in the comments or through asks what you think, i'm curious to know your opinions! <3

The early summer heat was already hitting halfway through May, and as I sat in the station that was barely AC-ed, I suffered like a dog through the sudden and surprising rises of temperatures in between of bouts of rains.

Truthfully, looking out of the window, I wasn’t sure whether I’d rather be sitting here in a half empty dead office with barely anyone present (6 o’clock on a Friday afternoon usually not pulling much traffic around these parts) or sitting in full leather on my bike by some seedy club peeping at what Jungkook was doing this particular evening like a creep.

I wasn’t able to put much time into any extracurricular activities, the current task I’ve been made responsible of forced me to spend most of my time behind a desk, scrolling through endless police reports, paparazzi photos and news articles, taking names of cases and trying to find out what kind of people they were and who they were associated with. And after the hours and hours I’ve spent on this I was truly starting to get sick of it, almost missing the few days I spent watching a warehouse in the middle of the winter only to get trolled by Yoongi. Obviously, I wasn’t made for an office job.

With a sigh I finally gave up after trying to focus on the currently opened case on my table and dragged myself to a bistro on the corner. I’ve been drinking so much coffee these past few weeks I was on the verge of throwing up anytime I just saw a brown paper cup, but I soldiered through for the fresh batch of caffeine that would allow me to die a little slower and more painfully. And as I waited in the line, I dreaded returning to the station and continuing in what’s been my sole purpose in life for days upon days.

Still not being able to move anywhere with Jungkook kind of haunted me, it stayed at the back of my mind practically every day, just calling me to go out there and do something. But I couldn’t exactly spend the whole night chasing shadows when I had to show up to work at 7 am. Sometimes I would wonder what Yoongi thought about my sudden absence, whether he was trying to uncover some mastermind psychological warfare plan while I was really just too busy to do anything other than sit in that damn building and sleep, but admittedly it did always put a little smile on my face imagining him being silly over why I’m not following his every step like before.

Occasionally I would tag along with the team for additional interviews and questionings, stand behind Minjoon and listen and absorb their strategies. Unfortunately, all the people we talked to, all the witnesses who were mostly workers from around the warehouse, they knew very well to keep their mouth shut about anything illegal. In the end we couldn’t get more out of them than them hearing shots and calling the police. Nobody saw anything and heard nothing beyond that, as it seemed.

But we knew we were going to hit the wall here, no one in their right mind would snitch like this, especially if this truly was the Min gang. For all the neutral demeanour and suave charismatic energy, people were still terrified of Yoongi. No matter the image he had right now, no matter how much he tried to situate himself as a businessman unconcerned with the underworld, everybody still remembered how he came up, how much violence it took for him to take his place, how much blood was spilt and continued to be spilt any time someone went against him. You didn’t act up against a man like that.

And given the fact the Kims were somehow involved as well, it was double the risk. A single word could cost you your life, no matter which side the hit came from.

That only left us with carefully dissecting the lives of the victims, trying to find out how they got there and who they messed with to end up massacred on a floor of a run-down warehouse in Incheon, which was a feat in and of itself, but Minjoon and Seungcheol worked on that diligently. I sometimes met him just as he was about to leave to presumably go question someone about them, but I haven’t heard much from them yet. So lately we were all mostly stuck behind our computers.

I shook my head at nothing in particular and with one last sigh I picked myself up and went back to the station coffee in hand, resigning myself to another few hours of ruining my eyesight and back at that stupid little cramped desk. These past two weeks really made me realise just how on each other we were in that little space, and how Park sat comfortably in his office doing god knows what.

When I arrived back, I was shocked to see Minjoon suddenly back sitting by his own desk submerged deep into whatever it was he was looking at. He barely even registered my entrance, and I deliberated on going up to him or going back to my own desk to not disrupt him, but in the end decided to procrastinate just a while longer.

Minjoon looked up as soon as he heard footsteps approaching and we exchanged friendly but tired smiles while he pulled out a chair next to him for me to sit at.

“Doing overtime too, I see,” he greeted me with, eyes once again glued to the monitor. I looked over his shoulder to see him reading up on a report of a crime from two years ago. The name was very familiar to me after all these days. It was one of the guys from the warehouse.

“You going over what Park Doyun was involved in again?” I jumped straight into reading the report alongside with him. It was an armed robbery from two years ago, but due to a mess up in the prosecution they were acquitted on some obscure technicality. It was honestly a huge embarrassment, because there was some good evidence, but it all went down the drain. It was the first thing that really smacked us in the face once we put the guys through the police database, because everyone was talking about it around the precinct and Minjoon immediately made the connection.

“Yeah, supposedly there was a third accomplice, but I can’t find any mention of anyone else being involved,” Minjoon muttered somewhat dejectedly, the exhaustion showing through his expression and posture. I patted him on the shoulder, trying to bring his spirits up while I was just as sick of this as he was. He only shot me a grateful smile over his shoulder and went back into the report.

The Police Academy truly doesn’t prepare you for the hours and hours of just pure research and paperwork, what a lie.

“Is that what one of the people in the neighbourhood told you?” I queried some more, desperate to distract myself from my own tasks long enough to gain some strength to go back to it. Minjoon hummed absentmindedly, but in the end gave up as well and turned to me.

“Yeah, it was the most I could get from this one old lady sitting by a convenience store on his corner,” the detective said around a yawn, decompressing into the chair and letting the day just wash over him. It was obvious that whatever he was doing today was catching up to him, and it didn’t surprise me much given that he was gone for most of the afternoon.

“What do you got so far?” I leaned back on my chair as well and turned so that we were face to face, and we just lounged there for a moment smiling at each other cheekily, “About the whole thing.”

That got Minjoon sighing again, wiping his hand over his face. “Most is the usual stuff,” the man started, launching into another long monologue brought up by my questions, “out of the six victims, two grew up in the same neighbourhood down in Gojan-dong. You know, the same old – not the greatest families, poor backgrounds, started messing around the block and got into a lot of trouble. That’s where the reports start flying in. The other four are from around there as well, but not as close by.”

I sat on the information for a moment, as this was the first time I outright asked about the details. “So they’re all from Incheon anyway?” I ended up saying, and Minjoon only nodded.

“Two of them lived pretty close to each other, went to the same school, and they have that one record together,” he continued talking, “but you know how it gets. The people living around there only talk about how pitiful it is they fell off the good path, and if there is something more organised going on beneath, they either don’t know about it, don’t want to know about it or will never talk to a cop about it.”

“But we can be pretty sure they were already tight back then,” I hummed. Minjoon moved a little on his chair to get more comfortable. I saw his eyes jump to the time showcasing on his computer before he turned back to me and the conversation, and I was suddenly hit with the realisation that he most likely wanted to go home and I was keeping him here.

“Yeah, according to the teachers they were troublemakers and there was some violence happening on other students,” Minjoon expanded on that, “and one also mentioned a kid from a school on another block that they used to hang out with a lot that was also known for trouble, but she couldn’t remember his name. She wasn’t very surprised that they died in a gang affiliated murder though, according to her they were most probably dealing already back then between the peers.”

“That’s tough, that’s real tough. Surviving on the streets like that just gets you involved in all kinds of trouble” the empathetic words spilled from my mouth before I could really think twice about it and I panicked a little. I wasn’t sure how much the people around the unit knew about my childhood, but it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with any of them, even Minjoon. Some things were just better left in the past, especially since it’d probably make my colleagues dislike me more.

“Yeah, but the worst thing is that I just can’t get the name of that third kid,” Minjoon carried on completely submerged into his own world, “I showed her pictures of the other guys, but she didn’t recognise them. Then I was trying to choke some info from an old lady sitting by one of their addresses, but she only mentioned that there were three boys involved in that robbery but couldn’t remember the third one because he was from a nearby neighbourhood, just that these three were always together and didn’t do anything good.”

“And it’s not any of the other four guys?” I asked once more, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Minjoon shook his head and leaned back onto his chair, just watching me with tired but smiling eyes.

“But I think it’s a safe bet that these three must have stood at the beginning of everything, I just can’t get the name of the last kid,” Minjoon finished with a sigh, fingers subconsciously playing with the hem of his shirt, “I don’t know how they got into the big game or where the other dude is though.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility he escaped? That he’s alive somewhere but skipped cities or something to get away from the trouble?” I pondered out loud, as we both exchanged conspiratory glances, but Minjoon just shrugged.

“I mean, anything is possible in this game really,” the detective closed the conversation with a definitive nod of his head. I thought that was my cue to go back to my desk and let him leave, but he surprised me with turning the conversation around on me.

“What about the files? How are you doing?” he asked suddenly just as I was preparing to stand up and go. For a split second I looked at him surprised, and then relaxed into the chair again with a smile.

“Honestly, it’s such an annoying work,” I complained a little whinily, allowing myself to be a little more open with Minjoon, “I have to go through every little article, report and a picture on the internet concerning the victim. Some of them are normal working class people who worked around the docks or clubs, but some are wealthy bastards.” Minjoon chuckled at me, fingers drumming a calming beat into the table.

“Some have no ties to Yoongi at all apart from like eating at his restaurant once or staying at his hotel, but some I think are worth investigating into,” I went on, giving Minjoon the opportunity to just listen to me babble for once and not the other way around, “like some businessmen that have done deals with some of Yoongi’s shadow companies or were frequent visitors of his clubs, there was this one dude that was really closely related to some charity events Yoongi put on. I think it’s worth looking into those.”

Minjoon smiled at me brightly, his whole persona suddenly lighting up at hearing me talk about the case. He straightened up and leaned towards me, hand grabbing my shoulder in a gesture that has become very familiar to me coming from him to a point when I had to fight an embarrassed blush and a smile at the warmth and pride it filled me with.

“Good job, Y/N, good job,” he said earnestly, eyes looking straight into mine until the direct contact got a little too intense and I dodged it, “I knew I could count on you with this.” This time I really did blush, an intense feeling of vindication filling me at finally having someone recognise the work I was putting into this case. I mumbled my thanks to him, too overwhelmed to even look up, but I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder in answer before he retracted it back.

“I put them into different groups,” I jumped back into the explanation to escape the atmosphere change, “the ones that are inconclusive when it comes to gang involvement, the ones that are mostly low-tier workers around the gang affiliated hotspots and the big wigs that died under strange circumstances and most likely were closely related to Yoongi’s business in one way or the other.”

I didn’t even realise I had naturally switched into calling him Yoongi even in front of Minjoon, but thankfully he either didn’t notice or didn’t think it strange. Once I clocked it though, I promised myself to make sure to never make the same mistake in front of Hwang or Park, who I didn’t want to risk questioning me about it. Was I paranoid? Maybe, but I had a good reason for it with my track record.

“Have you looked through all of them?” came Minjoon’s question after a few moments of silence and I startled minutely before shaking my head in response.

“Not yet, I’ve got like a case and a half left,” I answered him truthfully, the distaste over having to go back to my desk and keep researching this file still rotting on my table resurfacing and souring my mood. I had managed to forget I’d still need to return to it once Minjoon left and it had me slumping into my chair.

The man must have noticed my change in mood, since he gave me a small encouraging smile and then leaned towards me somewhat conspiratorially before lightly enquiring “you wanna get out of here and grab something for dinner?”. I visibly relaxed at the offered out and nodded enthusiastically basically before he even finished speaking, making him laugh heartily.

In one swift movement he was standing on his feet offering me his hand. I took it gingerly and let him haul me up, the feelings of guilt that have been eating me away for not dedicating more of my time to the task soothed by Minjoon’s approval of ditching work.

It didn’t take us long to turn off computers and collect our belongings before we both headed out into the still incredibly hot air of the parking lot in front of the station. He must have been just as excited to leave as me, with how gingerly he led us out and towards his car, only stopping when I lightly grabbed his arm. The officer turned his whole body to me, surprise and confusion written over his face at my sheepish expression. I gestured towards the other side of the parking lot where a solitary dark car stood parked.

“I’m here by car as well, we could go to the restaurant down the street so we can both leave by car?” I suggested and Minjoon as quickly brightened up and agreed.

Thus we found ourselves sitting over our respective bowls of kimchi jjigae just a few minutes later. This was a known spot for us, as they fed most of the police force from our station with the homely family run restaurant located only three minutes by foot away from our office. When we walk in, the kind middle-aged lady running it already greets us by our names and knows our tastes by heart. It was such a nice feeling to have a place like that, I had to admit that.

We both must have been pretty hungry, because for the first half none of us even spoke, too focused on our bowls and stuffing our faces like a pair of vultures. Once the dust settled and we were handing the empty dishes back to the smiling woman, we found ourselves once again just looking at each other not knowing how to start up a conversation. After few moments of awkward silence, Minjoon decided to break the ice.

“You mentioned you sorted the cases into three groups, right?” he started off the subject of our work again, waiting for me to nod and then continuing, “Once you get through them all, you should pull out the other cases we have connected to Yoongi and look through them again with the new ones in mind. There might have been things lost or not noticed.”

The feeling of disappointment that hit me was almost palpable in the air, and I felt my expression freezing into an awkward smile trying to not let it show outwardly. I didn’t want to anger Minjoon or make him feel bad about this, and I did realise I was a total newbie to the unit and a newbie to this particular investigation, but I would lie if I said it didn’t hurt that I seemed to be eternally stuck behind the computer while the others actually did all the investigating.

Minjoon still must have felt my lack of enthusiasm, even though I tried to show my agreement as happily as I could muster, and he hit me with another sheepish apologetic smile.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the man begun, hands on instinct raising as if trying to console me, “but this could be your own thing, you know? It would be your call and your own investigation. We could also ask the violent crime team to help you out with questionings.” Now, that did sound marginally better, and I found myself swaying. I mean, I really didn’t have much choice, I would still agree even if I was truly just a glorified secretary to them, otherwise I’d be booted of the team quicker than I could say ‘fuck you’. But like this, it at least didn’t feel like a complete lost.

“So, once I went through the cases, I’d have free range and I could try to investigate and close some of them?” I made sure before I truly consented to anything, and when Minjoon nodded and agreed, I relaxed a little bit.

“Okay then,” finally I accepted, “I’ll look through the old cases too.” That seemed to make him very happy, and he made sure to smile at me brightly and shower me in gratitude and praises, but I couldn’t really help the sinking feeling at imagining myself going through more cold cases. At least there was a clear end to that in sight with these.

After that the conversation shifted slightly to lighter topics and Minjoon ended up telling me some funny stories about our colleagues’ mishaps at work. I laughed at them heartily while feeling this strange rift between us deepen even more, realising more than ever that I was truly a stranger in this unit full of people who actually somewhat liked each other.

I promised myself that this time next year, I will be sitting here with the whole unit and be a part of those fun stories as well.

Later in the evening, as we walked leisurely back to our cars after finishing up at the food joint, Minjoon suddenly seemed a little more hesitant and withdrawn. At first I saw it as a reluctance to part after a nicely spent evening, but soon I came to realise that there was something he wasn’t sure how to tell me. I could see it written all over his guilty unsure face, mouth opening for a moment without words coming out and then shutting again. I waited patiently for him to gather his courage, until the man finally broke the suddenly awkward silence.

“So, we were making some plans with the team,” Minjoon opened hesitantly and immediately I felt a shot to my heart knowing I wasn’t a part of whatever discussion they were having as a team, but I kept my mouth shut. I only hummed in response, encouraging him to go on.

“Well, next Friday we’re going to speak to Ms. Kim,” he finally got out, and I froze a little, “I just felt that a heads up was needed for that particular encounter." And I wasn’t going to lie, there was a little bit of panic that seized me at the mention of her name.

Miss Kim, alias Kim Jiyu, alias the sister of the man currently in charge of Kim Enterprises and any other business the Kim family was running legal or not, was notoriously known in both the underworld and the law enforcement sphere as a very unpleasant and harsh woman that people only ever can have the displeasure of meeting. There was a lot of stories floating around about her, and most were extremely unflattering to her character. All kinds of adjectives were attached to her, from spoiled or mean all the way to downright cruel and heartless.

The meeting with her could mean only one thing – they were trying to get the meeting with the Mr. Kim himself, but as most people, couldn’t get through his sister first, as she acted as a wall between him and the rest of the world. Unless you came with a warrant, the chances of speaking to him alone or at all were very slim, most visitors got handled by Ms. Kim before they even made it through the receptionist.

I shuddered a little bit at the thought of meeting her and doing a questioning against her and the crimes her family was involved in. Allegedly. After this thing was over, I had to go to good old Jungkook and troll him a little over parking tickets to decompress from this whole ordeal.

I turned to Minjoon, taking in his worried face, and I put on my bravest expression, nodding with a gentle smile. We didn’t really speak after that again, both of us just processing the information that was traded throughout the whole evening.

When I got home, I was so exhausted I just wanted to crash into the bed and sleep for twelve hours but sleep just wouldn’t find me until the early hours of the morning, and I found myself lying there with closed eyes, brain overheating with everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours.

I nervously shimmied around, earning another judging stare from one of the maids and a warning shake of head from Minjoon, as we waited in the entrance hall to be accepted by the lady of the house.

When Minjoon mentioned going to interview Ms. Kim, I truly didn’t even begin to imagine we would go into her house. That morning pulling up in front of a huge modern mansion and getting greeted by a chauffeur and a gardener before I even made it halfway through the gate was truly a shock. I don’t know why I was expecting maybe an office or something, given the fact it was one of the richest residential parts of Seoul, but still.

As usual, my nervousness made it that I was there first, way before Sunmi or Minjoon got there, who were the two people assigned to this task, Hwang and Seungcheol trying their luck loitering around the office building where Mr. Kim must have been. It was a tactic that was already well known to me in our unit, fighting on two fronts and then exchanging found out info. In my mind I was transported months back, to the first time I was brought along, the “first time” I officially met Yoongi in the VIP lounge in Pied Piper and how I nervously sat in front of him while he laughed at me like my presence was the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

The feelings of unease and queasiness that thinking of Yoongi often brought along manifested themselves and I started sweating even harder, slowly gaining Minjoon’s worry as he looked me up and down. I shook my head to him very slightly, hoping it was seen as a comforting gesture and it wouldn’t make him hover over me in an attempt to shelter me or comfort me.

The silence in the hall stretched for several additional minutes and the three of us stood there awkwardly, scrutinised by every member of staff currently on standby. I felt the scolding gazes doubly, as I didn’t make much effort on the visual front, rocking up to one of the most expensive houses in the most expensive neighbourhood in my worn washed out jeans, a simple black tee and a breezy short-sleeved shirt with an aggressive flower print, hair styled in a way that was the most practical and needed the least amount of time to achieve and a face red and sweating both from the hot temperatures and the nerves, the look finished with a pair of old sneakers basically crying for help.

I couldn’t look more out of place in the pristine light green hall with sleek furniture and floors made from massive marble tiles and I felt properly as an outsider, both from the perspective of a kid growing up in an impoverished block and as a colleague that wasn’t properly informed about the details of the visit. Even Minjoon wore a nicer pair of jeans and a shirt, which he never did, and Sunmi looked as elegant as ever in her dress pants, light blouse and beautiful wavy hair let hanging loose around her shoulders. I swallowed my bitterness and regret at not checking up on the area first and not getting the chance to also dress accordingly. And avoiding looking like a beggar accidentally let in from the streets.

My train of thought was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, the distinctive clacking of high heel shoes on the marble floors carrying to us all the way from deep inside the house, and I found myself almost letting out a breath of relief, as I would finally be able to escape this oppressive atmosphere and disappear somewhere into a corner of a room and just quietly make notes.

With each clack getting closer to us the tension in the air grew lightly, the forms of my colleagues also straightening out, hands last minute fidgeting around their clothes to gather courage and look as composed as we could. From what I understood, from the people present here only Sunmi had the pleasure of meeting our host before, and it was only twice. Not nearly enough for the initial instinctual apprehension to wear off. Therefore we were all probably experiencing similar levels of unease. Most probably. Hard to say, I was pretty strung up.

Finally, the form of a woman rounded the corner and materialised at the other end of a very long corridor, slowly inching towards us with the elegance and prowess of a hungry lion, her form slightly shimmering. At first I thought my eyes were watering or I was straight up hallucinating, but as she came closer I realised it was because she wore a silvery dress that reflected every light and surface around her.

She was taller than me, quite a bit (not a big feat honestly, I barely grew out of looking like an 8th grader) with a small, graceful face, each inch perfect and carefully maintained. Both her make-up and dress looked very sophisticated, showing clearly that she was a member of the higher class, with her beautiful dark hair pulled into a tight intricate bun at the back of her head. She was absolutely stunning and, to be honest, for a moment I got a little starstruck. It felt like meeting a movie star or a celebrity, she had that aura around her, and for a few seconds I completely forgot why we were there and almost started asking for an autograph and a detailed explanation of her beauty routine.

That all shattered the moment she finally reached us though, as her impassive face suddenly broke into a cruel smirk, venom taking over her dark eyes and she scoffed, looking us over like we were pests about to be exterminated. Before even giving us a chance to introduce ourselves, or really say anything, her focus shifted to Sunmi, gaze burning her down intensely.

“I thought we were over this, detective,” she said in a strong voice, sounding just as annoyed as mean, “There’s no need for you to come over and ask your silly little questions. I told you everything you need to know.” I saw the moment Sunmi steeled herself, eyes hardening, readying to play her part of an unshakable detective. And damn, did she do a great job.

“Please Ms. Kim,” she retorted, her body relaxing a little as she adopted a posture to counter the other woman’s stiff elegant figure, “You know I’ll never have enough of asking you silly questions. Just let us bother you for fifteen minutes and then we don’t have to see each other again for a few months.” There was a little impish grin tugging on her lips and I could notice our hostess was starting to get a little bothered by that, her annoyance slowly running through the roof. I watched on with bated breath, both me and Minjoon just hanging back quietly, taken aback by the sudden change in the air.

Ms. Kim’s face turned into a bitter grimace, the disgust obvious in the downturn of her mouth as she stepped aside and gestured down the long hallway she herself came from.

“Fine, you got fifteen minutes, after that I’m not entertaining any other visits unless you have an arrest warrant,” she bit out almost in a bark, before she turned around without waiting and stomped her way back inside the house. We all scrambled to follow her, suddenly thrust into action after just weirdly hanging about for such a long time. Sunmi took the lead, confidently striding after her, but as she passed me I could hear her releasing a huge puff of air as she steadied herself to carry on.

I gazed after her, taking in her stoney face and confident posture, my respect towards the female detective immediately skyrocketing. If Minjoon told me I was looking at her with hearts in my eyes, I would totally believe him. I liked to pretend I looked similar while dealing with Yoongi, but Sunmi clearly perfected the pest bratty power play that just drove these types up the wall, and I hoped I would be able to learn from her before we all had to go our separate ways again. I’m sure the Min gang would infinitely appreciate it. Especially the maknae.

Miss Kim led us only halfway through the corridor before she disappeared into a room on the right, and like ducklings we all followed inside. Minjoon came through last, but immediately went for the chairs, so I took it upon myself to close the door. When I turned, I was the last one to take the room in. It was quite a standard home office space, with a dark desk dominating the space, some shelves with books and decorations, and of course, the two chairs waiting for visitors to be scrutinised from the high table.

Not wanting to pull much attention to myself, I quickly hurried into the left corner where a lone small armchair stood, sitting myself there. I was already pretty much invisible to them as they sized each other up.

Just as before, Miss Kim didn’t seem overly interested in getting our names, getting straight to business without any preamble.

“I cannot imagine what else you’d like to hear from me, Miss Lee,” her piercing voice sounded through the room, taking on a slight whining voice. I jerked slightly in my chair, head immediately flying up to look at the woman before I realised that me and Sunmi shared a surname and she was talking to her, not me. The relief that flooded me at not having to face her yet was quite mortifying, so I just focused on fiddling with my notepad and pen, waiting for something worthy of being written down.

“A multiple homicide took place on your front lawn, of course we’d be interested in getting your perspective as much as we can,” Sunmi replied to her matter-of-factly, holding her own in the intense power battle that was currently taking place between their gazes.

“On my front lawn? That’s news to me,” Miss Kim leaned back into her chair, throwing her arms into the air, “That’s not our warehouse. The Kim Enterprises don’t own it.”

“Cut the shit, that’s your turf. You want to tell me that someone was murdered on your turf, and you don’t have even the slightest idea? Not even if Mins were involved?” Sunmi snapped back immediately and even I was surprised for a split second before I schooled my expression and watched the two of them attentively.

Miss Kim seemed hardly surprised, she didn’t even blink at Sunmi’s approach, just sat there and stared at her blankly with not even a single hair out of place. Then she smirked lightly, fingers drumming a quick rhythm into the desk.

“I have no idea what Mr. Min is doing, but I can assure you he’s doing it far away from me,” she said diplomatically, “We’re not exactly the bestest of friends.” There was a tense venomous smile on her face and I fought back the scoff. That was some understatement. But she was really good at acting as if her whole clan didn’t almost lose their lives to Yoongi’s six after actively trying to sabotage him several times.

But guess they must have gotten a little mercy from him since most of the conflicts happened while the old Kim, her father, was still in power. Since he has died and his son took over, the relationship between the two powerhouses was still considerably strained, but also much calmer.

There was a moment of silence, Minjoon quietly looing to Sunmi whether she wanted to keep going and when she didn’t stop him, he cleared his throat and turned his full attention to the woman behind the desk.

“It might not be your warehouse, but we know the area is pretty much under your rule,” he said seemingly amicably, a stark difference to Sunmi’s irate approach, “We don’t care about any other stuff that’s happening there. We don’t care about drugs or smuggling right now, this is a murder case.”

To that the woman smirked and rolled her eyes. “So what? If I give you information, you’ll overlook anything else that might be going on? You want me to be a snitch?” she drawled out, clearly mocking us all, then threw her hands out into the air, “Not my warehouse, not my problem. Why would I know what’s going on in a house that doesn’t belong to me?” The answer was pretty clear, to be honest. Even as someone from a rival gang, if she knew something she wouldn’t cooperate with the police. The retaliation would be merciless if Yoongi found out. And he always did.

“Anything you say will be recorded as an anonymous tip, it will only push us in the right direction,” Minjoon told her, in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, but his voice was too hard and matter-of-fact to be friendly. The elegantly dressed woman’s eyes jumped from the two with a slyness that left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. In that moment she looked more like a viper about to strike than an heiress to a huge successful family. An ugly smirk curled around her lips and her face took on a certain savageness, suddenly she looked nothing like the graceful lady that greeted us in the foyer.

“Well, detective,” she started in another drawl, now her voice pitching more towards an almost playful hostility, like she was trying to make herself seem less lethal than she truly was, “all I can say is that they were drug dealers. Which is something you already know. So you probably have to ask… why did they lose their lives because of it? Hmmmm, I wonder… wonder who and where does drug deals that has the reputation of killing anyone that just looks at him bad…” She ended that whole spiel with a sharp grin, and promptly stood up and in a grand gesture flicked her wrist towards the door.

“I didn’t really expect that I would have to do the police’s job for them, should have fucking gone to the academy,” she hissed out in a snarl, “Now get the fuck out of my house and don’t bother me again about bullshit that doesn’t concern me.”

The two detectives didn’t seem to be bothered by her words or sudden turn in mood at all, instead they both stood up almost coordinated and without a single word or a glance back turned to leave the room. I scrambled to follow them, the whole thing replaying in my mind as I absent mindedly smacked about the door to catch the handle. The split second I turned to see where it was, I caught Miss Kim’s eye for the first time that evening. Hers were sharp, face a hard grimace of uncaringness and cruelty. She smirked at me in a mocking way, like she would at an insect right before she crushed in under her heel, her pride and ego clearly displayed like trophies in her arrogant stance and upturned head. I shuddered lightly and decided to leave the door be, breaking into a light jog to catch up to my colleagues much to judging looks of the servants. I didn’t care much, I just wanted to be out of there.

Once back on the street, a weighted silence stretched between us as we marinated on what we were told. Really, these interviews always felt so short and so little information would come from them, and then you’d look at the clock and find out it’s been thirty or forty minutes spend just turning in circles. This was one of them.

“Of course we know the drug deal is an important aspect of the case,” Minjoon suddenly bit out, peeved as the last comment clearly got him, “A group of drug dealers doesn’t just get murdered by accident. But Yoongi is self-sufficient, he has ties across the sea to Japan, he doesn’t do deals with small in-Seoul gangs.” We both looked at him, trying to ignore his petulant outburst, trying to be empathising because all of our emotions ran a little wild at the moment. I looked to Sunmi, studying her calm face that was in contrast to her hand tapping her thigh in a quick rhythm, her mind working fast to slot everything together and re-evaluate what we found out till now.

“Well, then the reason must be there,” I voiced out unsurely, getting nervous when their gazes turned to me, “If what she’s insinuating is that they were doing a deal with Yoongi and got killed, then we gotta find out why. If he normally doesn’t do that, then why now?” Sunmi nodded at my words, eyes squinted both against the sun and in thought, mulling over it.

“Yeah, that’s really the only way I see here too,” she stated finally, voice carrying strong, “We were working with theories that they maybe provoked him or split from him and stole some of his cargo, maybe tried to push his turf somewhere, the usual reasons for this brutal of a punishment, but maybe we should explore the option that they were actually partners. Maybe they scammed him with goods, that could get you murdered in this business.”

I pursed my lips tightly, keeping a neutral face to reign in my surprise, as most of those things she said were total news to me. I had known they were looking into their past and that they were drug dealers, that they missed one guy and maybe he got away. Nothing of what she said actually made it to me, and I had to stand there and pretend like I knew what she was talking about. I mean, I wasn’t dumb, these were the usual reasons for murder between gangs, but it would have been nice if someone actually told me we were looking into these options.

I swallowed my bitterness down and kept my eyes trained on Sunmi, nodding along. I didn’t want my negative experience with my team and unit to tamper down the respect that was quickly growing in me towards her, the detective has in the short period of time I’ve known her become something of a model for me, and I knew that it wasn’t her responsibility to keep me updated since she was from a different unit. No, this transgression was on the side of my own colleagues, so I stubbornly kept my eyes from straying towards the officer in question, who was nervously shuffling next to her.

I let out a tired sigh, the disappointment was so constant with them that I barely even found it in me to be properly annoyed, just felt resignation bleed into me slowly. I knew that I would most likely just keep getting fucked over like this, but still, I stubbornly and selfishly wasn’t prepared to give up just yet, and it hurt. But really, what other option did I have.

“We should get back to the station,” I piped in, cutting short the conversation that started up between them while I was spacing out, and I felt Minjoon’s guilty gaze on me, “Get the info to the others and re-evaluate.” Sunmi once again nodded, patting my shoulder and giving me a friendly smile.

“You’re here by car, right? We could definitely squeeze you in if you need a ride,” she offered easily, and I found myself genuinely smiling back. I thanked her and pointed towards my own vehicle, and she patted my shoulder some more, a little more awkwardly, and made her way to her own. Minjoon lingered behind a little, but whatever he wanted to tell me, we didn’t have time for it anyway, so I shot him a polite smile and went my way too.

The day went by surprisingly fast, considering I didn’t speak much for the rest of it, the earlier realisation weighing heavy on me. The briefing was pretty short, with mostly Sunmi making sure the other two detectives were caught up. They split their duties quickly too. Minjoon and Seungcheol were supposed to keep looking into the mysterious third accomplice while Sunmi and Hwang would start looking more sharply into their mob ties, hoping to somehow trace them to Yoongi if they scrutinised them hard enough. I sat there and watched them awkwardly, until Minjoon turned to me and somewhat sheepishly asked whether I wanted to share my findings. So I did.

I recapped to them everything I said to Minjoon a few days earlier before he stepped in and informed the others I agreed to go through the older cases as well and would try to build a new bigger case. I gulped down my own simmering anger, that was admittedly dwindling down with every hit I took from them, and smiled, nodded, agreed. Minjoon kept glancing towards me as if he wanted to say something more, but I ignored it for the moment. Now was not the time. He asked the other team if they would volunteer to have someone tag along with me. Seungcheol agreed. I shook his hand and thanked him. In my head I clung to the promise Minjoon made me, that this would be my own big case, and kept myself in check.

By the evening, I was finally wrapping up with the original task, a huge boulder falling off of my shoulders and then promptly building back up when I curiously checked how many files I would have to pull up come Monday. It was a lot. I did catch myself just sitting at my tiny desk kneading my face in my hands, smushing my features all together and then pulling them again, as my eyes focused and unfocused on the computer screen.

And that’s how Minjoon found me too. He walked up to me quietly, and at first I didn’t even notice him through the existential crisis I was going through, but soon his hip moved into my field of vision and I jerked back, embarrassed at my antics. Minjoon still looked just as apologetic as that morning, and I couldn’t even be annoyed with him after the day I had.

“Dinner?” he asked quietly, unsure of whether I would want to go with him or not. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but instead I just nodded tiredly, pushing the files under the desk and turning off the computer. I was done, done for the day and done with working on this, so I just wordlessly stood up and glanced around. Just like last week we were the last ones around, even Park already long gone from his office where he basically camped out.

Minjoon waited for me patiently, as I gathered my belongings and then just walked out without looking back. We ended up at the same restaurant, ordering the same thing, the lady behind the counter giving us winks and mischievous smiles while I tried my hardest to push the flustered part of myself as deep as possible. That was the last thing I needed, really.

Minjoon launched into his apology as soon as we sat down, stating how tired and overworked he was and pleaded for me to forgive him just this once for forgetting to forward the information to me. How it just slipped his mind and how Hwang just plainly refused to have to keep running to me with every new little thing and always left it to him and he was just so busy. I sat there staring blankly, not even really in the mood to pretend it was fine like I usually would for the man, and he stewed under my intense gaze, stuttering to find a way to make it up to me.

I wanted to be spiteful, wanted to tell him just how tired I was as well, how if they even invited me to these meetings in the first place, we wouldn’t have this problem, but failed to find the reason why I should bother.

“Then how about this? I have an offer to make,” Minjoon said suddenly after a few minutes of awkward small talk, a mischievous smile slowly stretching on his face. I perked up at the sudden change in mood and curiously nodded at him to continue. “I always have the time to tell you everything when we eat here and I can relax at the same time, so it’s pretty obvious you should keep coming to these dinners with me. Just for the work’s sake of course,” the man suggested slyly, eyes colouring with mirth and something else, something a little darker and sweeter. That insufferable flirt.

That time I did blush full force as soon as the meaning of those words hit me, ducking my head shyly as the negative emotions dissolved confusedly into something a little more excited and jittery deep inside my chest, the anger forgotten under the sudden attention. I found myself nodding and Minjoon rewarded me with such a blinding smile it made everything worth it, all the work and the bitterness long pushed from my mind.

That evening, there was plenty more conversation, none of it about murders or crime which was a refreshing change for both of us, and we both seized the opportunity to actually mention anything that didn’t have any tie to Yoongi, who seemed to have become a constant in my life. For a first time in a really long time I laughed freely with another person, nothing holding me back from the amusement and nothing weighing heavy on my mind.

When I made my way home that evening, the hopeful joy making itself known in my heart seemingly erased all the negativity of the day, of the week, of the month. The only thought that fought its way through was the flash of Yoongi in my mind as I passed the street that would eventually lead me to Pied Piper.

I turned my head straight and drove on.

The days quickly bled into weeks, into a month, until I was sweating my ass off in the office towards the end of May, the sudden heatwave hitting right after a week of storms and rains. The heat always seemed to get even more exaggerated inside the building, something about it just had to be cursed. And with how old and rundown the station really was, hoping for a working AC soon turned into a fruitless endeavour.

I spent the month the same way I spent the month before that, buried neck deep in old cold cases that never saw enough evidence or attention, cross-referencing every little thing down to wearing the same-coloured socks. Similarities started quickly adding up, and by the time I opened the 20th case I could confidently say whether it was truly a Min murder or not. I even had bets going on which one were Jungkook’s and which ones were Hoseok’s. There were even few that I suspected belonged to the Kims, but it wasn’t a theory I felt was strong enough to actually present to others. I had become something of an expert on violence.

Truly, throughout the cases, there were few names that kept repeating – names of companies that could be traced back to Yoongi’s umbrella corporation, names of middlemen that were known to hang about him, names from other cases. They all tied together a nice picture of shady business and in the middle of it all sat Yoongi, like the devil himself.

I was able to painstakingly trace some of the new cases to the older ones, fully incorporating them into the agenda after confirming truly that they were most likely victims of bad deals and finicky power dynamics. Then came the gut punch – the man that was linked to most of those cases, Moon Jiwoo, the middleman whose sole occupation seemed to be to link up wealthy influential men with Yoongi, has gone and turned into a cold case himself. This time a missing person.

Damn you, Jung Hoseok, ruining all my fun.

But obviously this was something worth looking into, given the fact that he was “taken care of” as well. So I started rearranging the files into different groups and sub-groups once again, making a pile that was directly connected to Moon Jiwoo, then a pile of cases that was linked to the victims in the first pile and then seemingly unconnected cases that were still most probably carried out by the Min gang. Thus I ended up with thirteen cases – seven that were connected to the middleman, the middleman case itself and five that had a link to the main seven. Ten more cases sat on the side, for now looking rather random, but maybe I would come to find out that they fell into the intricate web of murders I was currently looking at.

These lucky thirteen mostly had quite peculiar history of travelling between units until they ended up here. Some started off as missing persons cases until a body was found, death undetermined or suspicious enough to have the violent crimes look it over, some were first classified as an accident until someone from ours found it and pulled it over to organised crime. There were two cases that made it straight to us as soon as they were reported – the missing Moon Jiwoo, a known associate, and a dock worker that was employed by an affiliated company. Unfortunately, it was much easier to make a poor man working in the docks disappear than a filthy rich magnate, so those few cases that made it to us were mostly thin and under-investigated.

Stepping into this task, I have to admit that at first I was quite surprised that someone as infamously known for being a dangerous silent killer that almost never leaves any evidence as Hoseok had left this many cases for us to look into, but once I started properly going through them I realised that there was a stone wall at every turn and most of these cases went completely cold only a few weeks after happening. And considering it was a pure stroke of luck that even brought them to us, the chance that they would have been eventually completely forgotten was extremely high. I had to give it to him, he was extremely efficient, enough to make me progressively more annoyed every time I hit a dead end, cursing him in my mind four times a day. And I shuddered to think about the number of cases that never made it to us or that didn’t even get reported.

But now at least I had a firm idea of what would have to be investigated more thoroughly and which avenues I would look into. You bet that I was gathering those thirteen files to bring them home and put them on the map wall, silently sighing at the image of the macabre décor in my own bedroom. It was truly unfortunate it was the best room for it in my tiny tiny apartment, but sadly I was getting used to it by now. So much for calming relaxing mornings.

A cup of coffee landed on my desk and I jumped in fright, realising I had been just emptily staring at my computer screen as I went over everything I would have to do at home during the weekend and my plan starting Monday. I looked up with cheeks coloured by embarrassment, catching Cheol’s amused expression before he tipped an imaginary hat in my direction.

“Howdy, partner,” he drawled out and took a sip of his own coffee, leaning back onto a neighbouring desk and making himself as comfortable as he possibly could with the sharp edge digging into him. I chuckled at him and tipped my head in return.

“Howdy,” slipped out of my mouth easily, “thanks for the coffee.” He only smiled as a response and then nodded towards the computer and the mess of files everywhere.

“How’s it looking?” the detective asked. I sent him a faux annoyed looked, but there was a smile tugging on my lips. In the past few weeks Cheol made it his mission to check up on me regularly. He’d usually come with a cup of either coffee or tea and start asking about my progress. Since he had volunteered to be my partner in this, I understood his reasoning, but the first few times I found myself quite annoyed by his incessant questioning. Until I realised he was doing it on purpose and was just pulling my leg. After that I was able to relax and see the interaction for what it really was – an attempt to build some comradery, not an effort to press and humiliate me.

I found out he was actually pretty easy-going, he had a sense of stability and strength around him and yet still managed to be an absolute goofball, which helped me feel less nervous and I even started catching onto some of his jokes. I liked hanging out with him and I already trusted him as a teammate despite the fact that we hadn’t even gone out to the field together.

“Same as yesterday,” I told him finally, pretending to be annoyed with him, “Monday big briefing, then we can kick off.” My voice turned serious in the second half, conveying that it truly was an information he needed to keep in mind.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” he responded to just as seriously, only a small smile on his face as I nodded at him and then gestured to the mountains of files. “In the meantime I’ll have fun organising this for you, so you better not be ungrateful,” I joked right back at him, “I am not above abusing my power.” That got an amused chuckle out of him.

“Sure thing, rookie,” his voice turned slightly jokingly exaggerated, but I heard the genuineness in it, which pulled an honest grin out of me, “we’ll see about that on Monday.” With that he pushed himself off the table and started walking off somewhere, only waving around the cup in lieu of a goodbye.

On his way out, presumably back to his own unit, he passed Minjoon’s table, and I caught the man’s eye as I watched Cheol dramatically take his leave. Immediately I felt a blush spreading and I ducked my head back between the files quickly. There was a slight grin on his face witnessing my reaction, and I chastised myself to behave while at work. We weren’t highschoolers anymore and I could get in serious trouble sending puppy eyes to my colleague. If somebody caught wind of that, they’d disrespect me even more, it would become absolute hell here and I couldn’t afford to make the atmosphere even more hostile when I was barely making it now.

True to his word, Minjoon took me to the little restaurant by the office once or twice a week to eat and gave me the whole rundown of the other team’s plans and findings to keep me updated on everything going on. He would relay everything to me with care, making sure I wasn’t left out and that he wouldn’t have to awkwardly fill me in under Hwang’s hateful eyes. But we would always end up talking about everything and anything, and soon I started anticipating our dinners not because of the information, but because as soon as that was told, we would start chatting and laughing.

One moment I’d be asking about the next step against Yoongi and the next we were trading stories about the most embarrassing things we’ve done in high school or our favourite childhood spots to play in. Minjoon talked a lot about his family, about his older brothers and parents, and while I tried to avoid that topic as much as possible, I ended up also sharing some childhood stories without many details.

Honestly, those evenings became my favourite moments. The weeks and the work were both so hectic lately and I found myself swamped with cases, searching for the tiniest details, and more often than not I was going home totally exhausted with red raw eyes and a migraine that just wouldn’t leave no matter what I did. I almost perfected sleeping in a way that didn’t aggravate my headache to a point I almost threw up (I did throw up once, after I came home and almost passed out not realising I didn’t really eat anything the whole day).

The moments I spent with Minjoon were a beautiful escape, a few hours a week I forgot completely about my responsibilities and didn’t care about murders and gang activity, and only sat back and traded jokes and bashful flirts. We both have long since stopped pretending we weren’t interested in each other, and it made those encounters even more exhilarating as we danced around the attraction with careful teasing smiles and soft flirting. I was still very much nervous about the unit catching on and realising what’s going on, but Minjoon’s warm presence in my life slowly erased those fears and made me more open to the possibility. The last few meetings toed the line of propriety with more ways than one, flirtation straying further than before and Minjoon’s insistence he drives me home leaving us in a few tense charged moments by my door.

It was exciting and terrifying, but I liked the officer. He’d been the only one that went out of his way to actually accept me and treat me as a human, he helped me and pushed me through to give me opportunities to prove myself to others and he continuously cared about my well-being. I liked spending my evenings with him, he was charming and kind and we both seemed very compatible.

The only problem that stood between us and made us both hesitant to cross a line further than friendly dinners was the fact that we were not only coworkers, but team members. That left us awkwardly trying to navigate the sudden tension that arose between us without giving away how close we were getting. Honestly, every day I was nervous that Sunmi or Seungcheol would look at us and see, like it was written all over my face that I was starting to like Minjoon from a wholly unprofessional standpoint.

It was like there was a huge ticking clock hanging over my head just waiting for a disaster to happen, but it didn’t stop me from looking forward to the Friday evening every week. And Minjoon seemed to be in the same boat. But as long as we didn’t cross over to uncharted territory, we were fine.

Thus, we both just sat there in the office and exchanged timid grins, making sure no one saw us making eye contact, like we were two criminals fleeing from the law.

I tried to focus back onto my monitor, but I was absolutely fried. It was still noon, but the whole weight of the last two months just hit me and I was fighting to stay awake, knowing I was done with one of the most annoying boring tasks I’ve ever had to deal with and that from Monday I’ll be even more busy.

There was both panic and excitement coursing through me at what was waiting for me, all the possibilities from actually doing some real investigating and solving cold cases to finally having the chance to put my energy into something productive and not only sneak around Seoul at the ass crack of dawn hoping to catch a sight of a serial killer working for the most annoying man in the existence.

Finally I’d have a chance. And that was just as scary. It felt like I had twice as much to lose, given the fact I was barely tolerated now. I had everything to gain, but everything to lose. If I failed this, if I messed up or got us into trouble, it’d be the end of me on this precinct. Not successfully closing at least one of these cases wasn’t an option, I had to yield results.

For the nth time that day I tried blinking away the tiredness from my eyes and the early onset of another migraine, but as soon as it started being hard to focus through the pain, I decided it was time to give up on trying to achieve anything today.

Already having great experience with gathering my things to leave as fast as possible, I was ready to leave within five minutes of deciding to go home, the relief coursing through my veins like ice cream on a hot day. And it was a very hot today.

Still, I stopped by Minjoon’s desk, surprising him for a moment before he gave a confused smile, the question marks reflected in his eyes without him even having to ask anything. I grinned at him wildly, no doubt looking slightly insane from this angle of him looking up at me.

“You said that you haven’t questioned Yoongi yet, right?” I enquired out of nowhere, confusing him even more as he fully turned to me, and I could see him trying to figure me out. Then he slowly nodded.

“Yeah,” he drawled out, “we decided to go into offensive and start pushing him, so we’ll start questionings in the following weeks.” I nodded quickly, shooting him a rushed smile before I made my way out into the hot noon air and blasting sun, leaving supremely more confused Minjoon behind, not even giving him a chance to really say goodbye.

There’s been a thought playing around in my mind for a few days now. Was it finally time to go see Yoongi again? Now seemed to be the best time to make my grand return, remind them of my existence and cut the suspense. The team was already planning to go talk to him anyway, come June they’ll be hot on his tail, back to their strategy of annoying him. It would be kind of a sweet little treat to find out how much he knows, whether it already made it back to him and he was onto us or whether he was still blissfully unaware of what we were investigating. I was slightly embarrassed by the amount of excitement that flowed through me at the prospect of teasing the man again, of hearing his remarks, now that I fully had a leg up (though the last time I thought that it went spectacularly wrong).

I wanted to try to throw him off his high horse. To unnerve him, in the same way he always did to me. To return the favour of always finding a way to get under my skin and make me mad. I wanted that. I wanted him to know that I would be getting him behind those bars, just as I promised two months ago in The Rose.

Waiting until the evening seemed almost impossible, not even my own exhaustion that tried to lure me into hours long nap could distract me from the slowly ticking clock, and I was restless the whole day. Sitting around, staring off into space, always wanting to pick something up, some chore or an easy task, but unable to focus on anything except for whether it would be better to catch him still in the office or make a grand entrance to the Pied Piper, where he should be today.

And pulling up to said club twenty minutes after 7pm, I did pray that he was there, as I immediately recognised those same bouncers and desperately wished there wouldn’t be a repeat of that whole situation. Though, if I did manage to cockblock Yoongi twice, that would definitely put a smile on my face, that’s how petty we were getting here.

But that hardly mattered, not when I walked up to them and before I could even get a single word out of me, a mean glint present in my eyes to let them know I remembered them and I wasn’t amused by whatever bullshit they would try to pull, they were already opening the doors to me and gesturing for me to enter with smug smirks. My whole actor bit got thrown off and I stared at them shocked for a moment, before I hurried to scramble inside much to the distaste and grumbling of people waiting in the line right behind me. There was some disgruntled shouting, a warning growl and then the door fell shut and I was left in the dark hallway leading deeper into the heart of the club. That was entirely too easy.

From here, I could only sense the loud drums pulsing through the walls, their faint echo thrumming through my very bones, as I mechanically forced a foot in front of the other, pushing myself back into my carefree smug attitude. Stop being stupid, I thought to myself, something like this can’t throw you off. But it did mean that Yoongi was already no doubt alerted to my presence, sitting like a king in that red balcony waiting for me to get there.

Well, I couldn’t let him wait for long, could I? We had a game to play.

Somewhat nervously I shuffled with my clothes, choosing to show up in a little bit more club appropriate attire so I could sell my arrogance and triumph, and flaunt it properly in their face. I had to appear strong, this was a crucial moment between us and I couldn’t fumble here. Though, deep down I felt like this evening, just like all of my other encounters with the man, would inevitably end in disaster. Still, I made sure my skirt and crop top were in place, short heels properly strapped and hair and earrings where I wanted them to be, hoping my makeup still looked as okay as it did when I left my apartment.

This afternoon, as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of a plan, I had realised everyone around Yoongi always walked around in pristine high-end clothes, while I ended up running after them dressed in rags, basically. The encounter with Miss Kim only strengthened this idea within me. I had to step up my game. I had to learn how to play by their rules just enough to get away with it. So, I made sure to dress up a little. Only a tiny bit.

With a deep stabilising inhale and exhale, I set out down the hallway and down the stairs into the main room. I ignored the bar that opened up to my right and went straight for the VIP section entrance. I was anticipating to run into a little more trouble here, as I made my way towards the two unsmiling bouncers all jittery and trying to look more confident than I’ve ever been in my entire life; but upon seeing me, they just stepped to the side, unhooked the red rope and waited for me to walk through.

I did, though my nerves grew with every step I took up those stairs, knees and hands slightly shaking, and I clutched my little handbag until I risked damaging it. The upper floor, the VIP section, was just as intimate and infinitely more pleasant than the downstairs as the last time I was here, and my eyes quickly scanned through the seated guests, trying to make out whether there was someone I recognised, but it was too dark. I caught the barman’s eye and he winked at me cheekily, gesturing at an alcohol bottle he was just fiddling with, attempting to lure me in to buy a drink. My returning smile was apologetic, but it did stop me, and I found myself just awkwardly standing there looking towards the wall where I knew the balcony entrance was.

Trying out the same strategy as before, I loudly inhaled and exhaled, forced my body back into working order, and started moving slowly towards them. With every step I shoved a little more false confidence and condescending attitude to prepare myself, steadily growing surer in those heels and schooling my expression.

Just like downstairs, the bouncer moved out of my way and allowed me to enter the private zone, but as I caught a glimpse of his face, I did a hasty double take. A wry grin made it onto my face, watching the man up and down.

“Good evening, Mr. Choi,” I greeted the bodyguard with a sense of mocking in my tone, a sentiment he gladly returned in his patronising little bow he did towards me, eyes fighting to not roll to the back of his head. I chuckled and moved on, finally climbing those last few stairs.

Coming face to face with the men after such a long time was truly terrifying, especially as I stood there in my ditzy little outfit in front of several of the most dangerous criminals in the city and noted the shock and interest in their eyes as they fully took me in. Several different instincts warred through me – to hide away, to run, to flounder under their attention, to throw my attitude into their face, but all I could really manage was stand there in a manner I hoped that screamed carefully constructed indifference.

Yoongi was spread out on the central sofa, just like last time, comfortably seated in a way that almost made him seem half melted into the soft furnishing, but his eyes were sharp just like his smirk, thoroughly studying me. I could already see the cogs in his head turning, realising this was a beginning of a new game, even more exciting than the last one. I fought the shudder that tried to overtake me under his heavy gaze and instead turned my attention to the sofa next to him.

There was no Jungkook today, his dark sulking mass would be hard to miss, but Taehyung was here, elegantly sitting near the corner of his settee with one arm curling around the top of it and the other gently laid on his crossed legs. Everything about him screamed how comfortable and confident he felt, all the way to the playful smirk and studious eyes. I would have to be more careful around him, he was kind of a whole lot to deal with and I had no idea whether I could take that tonight.

But I couldn’t stop the surprise from displaying clearly on my face as I clocked in the last figure in the room, sitting close next to Taehyung, full body turned to me with a wide smile that had a dangerous edge to it and strangely deep dark eyes that had my fingers trembling in a tinge of fear. It was Hoseok, dressed in a nice suit and comfortably sitting there with a glass of alcohol loosely held in his hand, swirling over his expensive shoes. He was grinning at me like we were old friends, but somehow that made me even more wary of him, an unease setting into my insides that had me reconsidering whether tonight was a good idea.

But I was already here, so. No way but forward.

Gathering my wits back I plastered a smile on my face and regarded the three men with a cheery “Gentlemen” while I made my way towards the little chair sitting straight across from Yoongi. It was my place anyway, we all knew it, he clearly had all the unwelcome guests sitting on it to make them uncomfortable and unsure of themselves, so I had to own it as effortlessly as possible.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise, officer,” Yoongi started with his smooth voice that he only used when he was being intentionally an ass, “Come here to club and destress on a tough Friday night?” His eyes flicked down to my attire and then back to me, the amusement shining through alongside another strange glint to his eyes. He was interested in what my strategy was here, inviting me to set my starting pieces.

I ignored him and turned straight to Hoseok, finding his dark unsettling eyes already on me, but I forced myself to smirk lightly. “Shocked to see you here,” I said with my full voice, a cheeky undertone to my words, “Aren’t there enemies to be murdered? Bones to be buried?” His eyes narrowed slightly, smile turning a bit sharper. I’d never really spoken to him before, and our first exchanged words were a taunt from me? It was as brilliant as it was stupid, but it did throw the man off for a few seconds, his face immediately becoming a little more closed off, the happy smile still dutifully in place.

“Everybody deserves a day off here or there,” he retorted back, drawing an amused smirk to Taehyung’s face. Yoongi was watching us closely, studying the interaction before taking the control back.

“Could I interest you in a drink?” he asked, testing the waters, sharp eyes observing me. I nodded. He smirked. “Perfect,” he hummed, “Finally truly came here on a day off?” I only chuckled in response, watching him wave to someone behind me, presumably to Soobin. I squirmed a little on the tiny seat that simply must have been designed to torture the people sitting on it, always playing a balancing game on the little square with nothing to really lean on. The dark-haired man’s eyes still followed my every movement and he suddenly gestured to the space next to him.

“Of course, if it would be more comfortable for you, you’re welcome to join us on the settee,” Yoongi drawled out with a smirk, Taehyung hungrily watching our interaction with some sort of dark amusement glinting in his eyes. It made me shudder, nerves threatening to swallow me whole under their intense scrutiny, especially since Hoseok was also present. I would have never guessed I’d meet him here, casually drinking with Yoongi. Somehow I gained the idea that he just always crawled around in the dark like some kind of a mythical creature.

I pushed all of the uncomfortableness to the edges of my consciousness and quickly straightened, moving to the sofa in a few confident strides. This suddenly put me much closer to the man than I’ve ever been before, my stomach revolting and filling with lead. I quickly clasped my hands together nonchalantly to hide the slight tremor that started up again in them.

If Yoongi was surprised by my decision, he didn’t let it show and only continued to regard me with rampant curiousness and interest. I felt like a puzzle game that he desperately tried to solve just for fun, and it was increasingly more difficult to not start tensely shifting around; my eyes flitting around the room and lungs seizing until it was hard to consistently breathe.

I figured since I sat like this with Jimin in The Rose when I went there I’d be fine now, but I should have known that Yoongi himself was a completely different ballpark. He shifted around in his seated until he was half turned to me, leisurely lounging on the red velvet with one arm rested on the top and the other playing with a glass of what I assumed was whiskey. He was a picture of aloofness and power, all painted in black and red, and his aura was slowly crushing me like I had found myself at the bottom of the ocean. All I could do was try not to flounder too much and stand firmly.

I had come here to play their little game, to shock them and throw them off, to show them that I can keep up, that I’m not just a stupid little girl that’s in over her head. I needed to be bold, to play with them the same way they play with me. So, I took a few steadying breaths and ignored the way my whole body was screaming at me to leave, instead grinning self-assuredly at the man.

The silence stretched on, the other two men present sat back and watched Yoongi with amusement and something akin to respect in their eyes as he stared me down. For few long moments no one said anything, and Yoongi’s eyes just bored straight deep into my soul, picking me apart and making me squirm uncomfortably in my seat. Unlike the first time he did this to me, I fought to keep myself defiantly staring back but I couldn’t hold the eye contact, every few seconds flitting to something else before I looked at him again, shame creeping into my features. His smile grew larger and more entertained until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Just as I started considering just turning away from him in humiliation the moment was broken by a waiter coming in to serve me a cocktail and I exhaled deeply in relief just as Yoongi chuckled and nodded at the boy. I took the drink eagerly, absolutely ecstatic that I had something to put my attention to instead of those fuckers smiling smugly right next to me. The drink was something very fruity and it tasted sweet, my features immediately perking up in delight as the taste hit my tongue.

Next to me Yoongi chuckled again, and I pointedly ignored him until he spoke. “Your eyes are so genuine,” he muttered, something warmer than just plain amusement creeping into his voice, “Everything’s so clearly written all over your face.” I froze at the tone, my mind transported back into The Rose to the respect he so clearly showed towards me, and I almost fled the club in absolute panic at the reminder of why I distanced myself in the first place.

I wasn’t the only one thrown off though, Hoseok sitting right at the corner of my vision visibly tensed at Yoongi’s words and looked at him in a way that could only be described as a warning glare. Not that the man himself paid him any mind, though I was sure he certainly knew of what Hoseok was doing right to his side.

But even when all of my alarms were going off in my mind and I was so undeniably shown just how much I was losing control of the whole situation (if I even had any from the beginning) and how I got myself into real trouble fraternising with Yoongi and going along with his stupid little whims, trying to outwit him and always managing to play right into his hands, I still stubbornly refused to stop. I still stubbornly refused to back down and admit to myself this was slowly crossing lines I couldn’t afford to cross, I still tried to force myself to believe that it would mean my defeat, my surrender. And I couldn’t surrender, that’s what he wanted. It was pedal to the metal all the way, baby.

I pulled myself back together and shot him a carefully crafted smirk in return. “Don’t try to butter me up with your words, you’re not taking me home tonight,” it took everything in me not to flush at the insinuation, and I cocked my head to the side with a cheekiness I’ve seen from him many times before to sell it properly, giving him back what he always gave me (especially in The Rose with Jimin, those bastards). But the answering grin that immediately spread over Yoongi’s face had me nervous again. He looked like he won the lottery, like I just perfectly played into his cards. The man just leisurely brought his drink to his lips, before a look crossed his eyes.

“Of course I’m not, that police officer is,” he retorted nonchalantly, one eye cheekily looking to me to gauge my reaction over the rim of his whiskey glass. I froze, some spectacular mix of emotions passing through my face, and I had no idea what kind of expression was set there, but it greatly entertained my whole audience, all three of them grinning like wolfs that just stumbled upon a little girl in the middle of the woods. My heart gave a few painful jerks, and I buried my face in the glass again, hoping to regain some composure.

“Been following me too, huh?” I shot back weakly, head still spinning from this particular information coming out his lips. God damn him, god damn them all. The man laughed at that like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course, my favourite police officer just suddenly disappeared,” he said in a mock worried voice, “I had to make sure that you were alright. What if you needed help, officer?” Now my whole body trembled as I went over my whereabouts in the past two months. How much did he know? What did he see me do? Does he know what we’re investigating? Is he aware of what we’re trying to spin him into? Did I doom this operation right from the start without even realising it?

Yoongi was blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil and happily continued yapping. “Though I must say you have a rather boring life, somehow I expected a detective’s life to be more interesting,” he mocked some more, but really I didn’t care about what he thought about my life. I needed to know how much he knew about my work.

“Must have been at least a little interesting,” I tried to spin him to talk more, forcing my hands to calmly pick at my skirt to play up my aloofness, “had you interested in why the sudden absence, did I not?” He chuckled lightly, eyes dissecting me carefully with a cheeky look.

“I’m always up to indulging you and your little games, officer,” Yoongi half whispered back to me, leaning lightly forward, “Keeps my life more interesting. At least I have something to do over my lunch break.” I regarded him, spread there on the sofa leisurely like he owned the whole city, smirking himself half to death, and I decided to take a gamble.

“Oh, I have the most interesting game prepared for you,” I whispered too, subconsciously leaning in as well to make sure he heard me, “Trust me, you’re going to love it.” From this distance and under this lighting his eyes looked absolutely consumed in darkness and even as they crinkled in amusement, there was something predatory in them, especially as his lips curled up delightedly. I couldn’t help myself but think he looked almost like a tiger spirit that just managed to catch another poor soul unawares.

But when I searched the black irises for any signs of mockery or knowing, I only found pure interest and eagerness to see how this unfolds. With careful hope I allowed myself to believe that he somehow managed to miss me going to the crime scene or to Miss Kim’s house, for a short moment thanking the unit for not taking me with them as often as it clearly prevented from spoiling Yoongi his surprise.

He probably wasn’t expecting me to push an actual investigation against him at all, and probably also wasn’t warned by the Kims that we were asking around about those warehouse murders. That’s when a true smirk unfurled on my face, all the despicable joy I felt about paying him back surfacing freely onto my face.

There was a new kind of calculation reflected in his gaze, eyes never suspicious but always storing away every little detail about our interaction.

The atmosphere between us grew tense, I almost felt the air crackling, almost tasted the electricity on my tongue. I finally leaned back away from him, mirroring his relaxed posture and took a long sip of my drink.

My eyes flitted to the two other men that have just been silently sitting to the side watching the whole interaction, and suddenly I flushed realising they witnessed my shameless taunting of their boss. Hoping the light would hide any unusual colour on my face, I rather focused on deciphering their expressions.

Taehyung was watching me like a new toy that he couldn’t wait to figure out, like a game that he’s been dying to play and find out how the story ends. It made me shift uncomfortably under such raw curiosity, though I’ve been slowly getting used to the fact that he was just someone that would inevitably always throw me off. The man was basically 85 % deception and 15 % flirting, I’d rather keep myself amused by other means than striking up any kind of conversation with him.

Hoseok on the other hand had during our discussion leaned back into the sofa and he watched me with his face closed off and clean off any smile, only apprehension shining through in his gaze. He watched me with distrust and like I was a problem he wouldn’t hesitate to solve. That sent a wave of shivers and goosebumps down my back, finally giving me the opportunity to see the man behind the mask. This was the man people feared, this was the man the petty criminals respected, or they’d find themselves solved. This was the man that walked amongst the docks, and everybody listened. I fully believed that had Yoongi given the order, he’d be happy to get rid of me right here in the club.

Sitting here, drinking leisurely while these three men grinned at me like hungry wolves, I fully realised just how far deep into shit I shovelled myself with this personal justice route I had taken. Yoongi kept me around only because it amused him to watch me struggle and both Jungkook and Hoseok were firmly against indulging me.

As much as I enjoyed annoying Jungkook cause he was one of the members that always let his anger show, and that was very therapeutic for me, I was aware the reason why I was such a sore in his existence was because he hated how close Yoongi let me. Given the chance he’d prolly kill me even without Yoongi’s orders.

Other than that, Jimin and Namjoon were dangerous to be around and speak with, and Seokjin I haven’t even met, but Jimin insinuated he was also getting a little trigger happy when it came to my meddling. Now gloves were off and I was truly treading thin ice. One misstep and I would turn into a warning, just like any cop that got too close. Up until now it was all fun and games, what’s a little tailing and tracking between friends, but once I put this investigation to life, I’d truly be in danger of retribution.

I once again glanced at the satisfied grin on Yoongi’s face, at his hands gently clasped around a whiskey glass, at his relaxed shoulders and designer suit and shoes, pretty hair curling around a pretty face, and I saw the violence hiding underneath. He was good at masking his, and that made him so dangerous. It was so easy to forget what kind of man you were talking to. And from now on I would risk standing in the direct line of Hoseok’s ire as well.

I threw back the rest of the cocktail I had in my glass, my stomach protesting as I hadn’t eaten much the whole day, and I stood up to leave. I felt their stares on me, all three of them burning through me with those fiery eyes, each of them showing a different kind of craze. The gaze of a puppeteer, the gaze of a honeytrap and the gaze of a killer.

I shuddered and moved away from them, closer to the edge overlooking the rest of the club. Everyone was enjoying just a normal Friday night, having absolutely no idea what was going on just a few metres above them. I envied them a little bit, I envied how carefree they seemed.

��Feel free to enjoy yourself tonight,” Yoongi spoke suddenly into the silent tension, “The drinks are on me.” With his arm he gestured over the railing of the balcony, down to the pit of bodies moving together to the rhythm as one. Suddenly the spell was broken and I once again started to percieve the loud club music blaring throughout the whole space as it reverberated through my bones.

Without me noticing, Yoongi had stood up as well and moved to me, his presence and the warmth radiating off of his body abruptly crowding me in against the railing. I froze in a moment, just sensing him right behind, close enough to make me feel he was there but not enough to touch, as he leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

“You do deserve to let loose and relax once in a while,” he spoke to me in a hypnotising drawl, his voice turning into almost a purr, “So don’t be shy… indulge.” A full body shiver wracked through me, making me jerk in place with the force of it, and for a brief moment I wondered whether this is what it felt like to be sung by sirens into a sure death. Yoongi chuckled again, a low rumbly sound that made me twitch, and then he stepped away from me.

The cool air rushing in broke the spell and I collected my bearings again, throwing a disgruntled stare at him over my shoulder while my knees fought to work again, hands clenching the railing like it was the only thing currently keeping me alive. I just managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s sardonic grin before he turned completely and left.

The two other men stood up as well, both of their faces once again amused by my plight as I was very obviously flustered by Yoongi’s behaviour, before they stepped out right after their boss, leaving me completely alone in the luxurious balcony bathed in red velvet and sin.

Defeatedly I sat down onto the nearest sofa with an ‘oompf’, all bones turned into soup as I decompressed now that the oppressive atmosphere left with them, and blankly stared at a wall for a moment before I was able to process things normally again. My phone started wildly buzzing in my little handbag and I decided that ignoring whatever just happened and taking the distraction it offered me was a better choice than to dwell on it.

Fishing the phone out, I checked the neglected notifications, not much really coming in except for a text from Cheol confirming he read my email about the files and that he’d be ready Monday to go over it once more and some social media pings. And then, a very noticeable slew of messages from Minjoon. The first one was from 19:22, which was around the time I arrived here, asking whether I’d still be up for a dinner. It was currently over 8pm, but there was a few more asking minor questions with the newest one only from a few minutes ago.

I quickly opened the chat and answered an affirmative, my brain just begging for me to distract myself from tonight’s happenings. Minjoon was happy to hear from me and I finally took him up on the offer to drive me, as I couldn’t exactly sit behind a wheel right now.

On my way out I pointedly ignored the bartender’s small smirk, or the bouncer’s curiously raised eyebrows, I ignored Yoongi sitting at the downstairs bar chatting amicably with the guy manning it and sending me very unsubtle mirthful glances, I ignored Taehyung’s flirty wave as I passed him in the hall and most of all I ignored Hoseok leaning against a sleek black car outside of the club with a cigarette between his fingers, icy eyes following my figure for as long as he could.

The second I disappeared behind a corner I half expected him to run after me and grab me, the feeling of being watched slithering along my back in a way that made me shudder in disgust and fear. I hurried towards a bigger road, the Friday evening rush swallowing me and hiding me amidst drunken college kids, foreigners and working folk trying to forget their responsibilities for at least one night. I could relate to that, but no matter how much these meetings took away from me, they always gave me some sick satisfaction in return. And I couldn’t wait for the day I truly bested him.

I waited around for a few minutes, just enough to have the evening chill start setting into me, before a familiar car came into view, slowing down until I could hop in quickly. Minjoon smiled at me warmly, his eyes getting caught on my outfit and he fought for a few moments to keep his eyes on the road. I blushed deeply under his gaze and felt the relief of not having to police my reactions like I did with Yoongi, finally getting the chance to freely feel without fearing his mocking eyes.

“Where were you?” he asked incredulously, voice a little shaky as his glances kept getting caught on my short skirt and exposed legs. There was an electric current going through me at his obvious interest, a fire slowly waking to life right under my skin, and I found myself subconsciously trying to fold my legs in a way that make them look even prettier.

“Just out with some friends,” the lie slipped out of my lips so easily I didn’t even stop to think about feeling guilty about it, too preoccupied with feeling the tension between us slowly cracking, clutching the handbag like a lifeline and revelling in my rising heartbeat. I felt so free, so opposite of how nervous and jittery Yoongi made me. And I wanted.

“I see, I thought you were going home to rest, so I didn’t want to bother you at first,” Minjoon said, lips turning into another warm smile, which I returned tenfold, my whole face lighting up.

“I’m glad you did, I was getting hungry,” I told him teasingly, “It’s always nice with a personal chauffeur, you know?” He went along with my teasing happily, hands attractively flexing on the steering wheel as he shot me a look with one eyebrow raised, lips playing with as subtle smirk. The whole atmosphere shifted; the tension close to overflowing. Suddenly it became very clear to us that we’ve been dancing around the line for too long.

“So where to, your highness?” Minjoon asked, even though he was obviously already driving with some goal in his mind. I only grinned at him and responded: “Wherever you want, sir.”

The place turned out to be a cute little restaurant, the kind that is open at all times of the day and a girl in full club attire in the evening wasn’t a strange sight there. I had to laugh at Minjoon’s choice, as he clearly improvised upon seeing how I was dressed. But the man was watching me with something I could call fondness in eyes and that was all that mattered to me as he placed his hand on the small of my back and led me inside.

Once seated, I found that there wasn’t really even a need for talking about the team, and frankly I wasn’t even in the mood to be discussing Yoongi when I had just met with him and was doing my best to distract myself from that. Minjoon was still watching me with some sort of fascination, his gaze flickering between intrigued and sensual, and I was sure he also wasn’t particularly interested in work related topics.

We exchanged some more flirty grins while we ordered, but politely waited to be alone before starting up any kind of conversation.

“So… outing with friends?” Minjoon started, gaze once again slipping to my attire before jumping back to my face slightly flushed. I only nodded, too spent to come up with something and spend my evening lying. “I wasn’t really feeling it,” I added after slight deliberation. Minjoon grinned.

“Was feeling up to meeting me though,” the man retorted, flirty expression taking over his face, “Gonna make me feel special. Be careful or it might go to my head.” I chuckled at him, leaning over the table to graze our fingers lightly together. Minjoon’s eyes immediately jumped down and zeroed in on the place of contact before he looked back to me, eyes hooded.

Suddenly feeling parched, I licked my lips, rolling my tongue along them slowly and curled them into a sly smirk. “Everybody deserves to feel a little special,” it came out almost on a whisper, the tense atmosphere setting between us and freezing us into our spots with dark eyes and hungry stares.

I still felt jittery from my encounter earlier in the night and it mixed together with the anticipation of what was to come from this, throwing me into a whirlwind of emotions that made my body tremble slightly. My stomach was all knotted up, but it didn’t feel unpleasant, instead there was excitement brewing and slowly spreading through my bloodstream.

Even after the food arrived, the air kept getting tenser, even as we attempted to have regular conversation, it crackled between us like an onsetting storm. Every word, every sentence inlaid with telling mischievous smiles and expressive eyes. Sometimes during the dinner it started dawning on me that this was inevitable, we both were already too far. With all the flirting we’ve been doing this was really only a matter of time, and it just so happened that tonight the tension was going to explode into something that we probably shouldn’t be doing.

I looked over at Minjoon again, properly eyeing him and his expression, and when his gaze met mine and darkened as he sat there with his cheeks dusted with pink, hunched over like he was ready to launch himself over the table, sitting there like he would rather be anywhere else and preferably somewhere where there were no barriers between us, that’s when I realised he also wasn’t as opposed to this as he should have been.

The small talk flew all stilted between us and we mostly just stewed in our own cocktails of emotions and sensations, trying to chew through our food as fast as possible so we could leave; and even though it was already a little chilly outside, there was a heat coming from within that was enough for a thin line of sweat to bead along my hairline. I couldn’t imagine what picture I painted at that moment, if with one look it was obvious how the arousal was steadily rising in my veins with every another second spent just shyly exchanging heated stares.

Every so often my eyes slipped a little lower, eyeing the young man’s collarbones just peeking out from his dark green tee, sliding up and down his arms as he leaned on the table and ate, and I could see from the delighted sparkles glinting in Minjoon’s eyes that he was aware, and very much returned the favour.

God, this was definitely going to end in disaster. There was no way we could avoid this any longer.

And I was right.

Once done with the food, we sat around for a moment just looking at each other silently, before Minjoon finally gestured towards the door. “You wanna go? I’ll drive you home,” he offered immediately, the kind words that I was already used to by now tinged by something a little more tonight. I nodded and after some flirty arguing over who’s going to pay, I finally surrendered and went outside to wait for Minjoon to settle the bill.

The cold air rushed over me and cooled my burning skin a little and I took a few big breaths to ground myself. The night Seoul was loud and lively, I found myself surrounded by joyful groups and couples dressed in their best sitting in restaurants and eating or walking around the sidewalk laughing, clearly aiming for one of the establishments in the area. It was quite refreshing to see, and I lost myself in the rush and buzz, watching others enjoy themselves.

And that’s how Minjoon found me when he came out, sitting on a little wall by the sidewalk dreamily staring off into the distance. He came over, hand going straight to my face, gently catching a strand of my hair and slowly pushing it behind my ear. He lingered there for a moment, fingertips brushing the reddening tip as all the blood rushed to my face in a mighty blush. On instinct I ducked my head being too flustered and broke the contact, but the man just smoothly moved to my shoulder, pushing me up to stand.

He was very natural in his movements, pulling me to his side and wrapping his arm around my shoulders very lightly, and I just went with it, too shy to express it but too happy to go against it. I fought against the instinct to giggle like a schoolgirl and set out to his car, which was quite a short walk, and unfortunately to my apartment it was a quite short drive as well, even in the restless silence that stretched between us.

Our arrival at my doorstep seemed to have come sooner than I was anticipating, sooner than I was ready to end this little outing. I turned to the brown-haired man and studied his face for a moment. We steadily exchanged eye contact, the tension between us back with vengeance, my throat drying up under his dark gaze. I was fluttering on the edge of propriety, in my head still repeating all the reasons why this was such a bad idea, but it didn’t seem to matter when Minjoon watched me with the same longing and desperation. I felt my skin heating up, my insides stirring with something I haven’t properly felt in such a long time it hit me with a ferocity I wasn’t prepared for.

“Aren’t you going to go home?” he whispered so lightly I almost didn’t hear him. He sounded slightly breathless, tone curious and probing.

“Can you walk me to the door?” I shot back immediately, almost unthinking. He licked his lips, his kind face getting twisted with something akin to intense desire before he quickly nodded, and we both scrambled to get out of his car.

The walk was brief, of course it was. I lived on a second floor and my door was accessible from an outside walkway, so all we had to do was clear two stories of stairs and we suddenly found ourselves by my tiny apartment.

I turned to Minjoon, something expectant in the air between us, and each second ticking by felt like a countdown to the inevitable. I wasn’t ready to end this night here. I knew I wasn’t. And judging by Minjoon’s bottomless eyes, I could confidently gamble on his interest and hit jackpot every time.

As the tense silence stretched out a little, neither of really sure how to tackle this situation as we were caught in the ‘will we won’t we’ and ‘should we shouldn’t we’, until I decided to break the curse. Stepping a little closer and looking up at him through my lashes, my hand latching onto the sleeve of his jean jacket that he put on in the car and tugging lightly, I steeled myself and jumped over the line head first.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?” the whispered question escaped my lips and hung for a few moments between us. I watched as if in slow motion as Minjoon took it in and nodded once, then twice, and then his hand caught mine.

I turned hastily towards the door, jabbing the key in and pushing inside without a single thought in my mind. It turned out, there wasn’t even a need for an awkward pretending of drinking anything, because the second the door closed behind us, we were on each other.

It was like dam broke between us and we suddenly couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Minjoon kissed me quickly and desperately and I fought to keep up, hands going around his neck immediately while his snaked around my waist. Taking off shoes long forgotten, we stumbled inside and towards the sofa.

In that moment, I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about the huge maps in my bedroom. I didn’t realise how lucky I was we didn’t make it any further, too lost in the way Minjoon’s tongue was finally sliding against mine and how his calloused hands caressing my sides felt a lot like heaven.

And when he inevitably got his hands on my skirt and I inevitably thought of Yoongi’s eyes taking me in when I arrived at the balcony, and when Minjoon pulled me closer and I thought of Yoongi’s presence caging me in with his warmth against the railing, of his lips turning into a smug smirk as Minjoon kissed me, then I just pressed my eyes closed harder and tangled my hands into his short brown hair, banishing all thoughts of curly black locks far away into the deepest corner of my mind.

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@ot72025 @jalexad @eleni-cherie @m00njinnie @mysteriousgeminizone

[sublimati0ns]

what's your ideal endgame for ko and star?

I think my favourite outcome of their relationship to dwell on is a little more meta 🤔

To preface, I like to imagine that after a vorn of character development—learning to trust each other, admit they want to make it work instead of being an endless powder keg of toxicity, and get over themselves—they settle into something more stable, but not perfect by any means. Like, they’re still going to crash out and get divorced from time to time, just wayyy less frequently than before, and maybe now with the security of knowing it’s not permanent.

From there, I generally see them as neutral parties in the overarching Transformers narrative, mostly carrying out their own schemes, but benign now that they’ve been humbled by the Decepticon faction’s undoing. So my ideal ‘endgame’ for them is as recurring side characters in the Autobots’ lives as they rebuild Cybertron 🥹

I don’t picture either of them to be the parental type, but I do like to imagine them actually getting that “household staff” (other ex-Decepticons, or neutrals that have reason to distrust the Autobots cuz they also did war crimes) so they have their own little cluster of weirdos. They get tagged in to help the Autobots from time to time, especially cuz SS has a lot of knowledge and weird skills from over the millennia.

Maybe if the Quintessons rock up to ravage Cybertron for fuel later and everyone has to come together to fight them, KO and SS can have a way long overdue dramatic confession in case they both die (nervewracking but nostalgic I’m sure).

[kalin7art]

shipsnthenight -> kalin7art

So... hi. I need to talk to you guys for a bit.

In the span of 48 hours, I as a European, watched as 180 million people were subjected to the most blatant, political and propagandistic stunt ever pulled from a self-described "democratic government" in modern history, and I can't pretend that what is happening is not a mirror (with different platforms of course) of how it started in Italy in 1922, or in Germany in 1933.

It makes me sick. Physically sick to my stomach.

I am Italian, as some of you know, and I have heard from my grandparents' own mouths what it was like to live under a dictatorship. It's a topic that hits very close to home for me, and seeing what has happened to TikTok since it came back up for Americans is 100% proof that THAT is his (you know who I'm talking about) endgame.

Even if I'm not an American, I can't keep living my life pretending that all of this is not happening. At least on the internet, the very least I can do is try to distance myself as much as possible from the blatant propaganda, and that now includes twitter, TikTok and all the Meta platforms as well.

Sadly, as a European I can't let go of WhatsApp because 99% of people uses it here even for work, but with everything else I'd like to try and see if I can exist without needing those platforms.

I guess what I'm trying to say is... ...hi! I'm an old-guard milliennial who'd like to be let back in here please.

I haven't really used this account properly since 2017, so I'll have to learn some new tumblr etiquette, I guess.

Also, 2017 was a long time ago, so... here's a list of the things you'll probably see me post about:

My art (ranging from official book covers I've worked on for italian editors, to fanarts from the fandoms written here below, some of my own stuff, and also fantasy/dark-fantasy and sci-fi characters)

Everything LGBTQ+

Arcane LOL/Caitvi (I don't play lol but love to learn the lore)

Mass Effect Trilogy

Baldur's Gate

Elden Ring / Soulsborne

Blue Eye Samurai

Horizon (game)

TLOU (game + show)

HOTD + GoT

Pokémon

Video games in general

Some TV shows and movies but not as much as I used to watch

Taylor Swift (WHERE IS REPTV SIS COME ON)

In the next few days I'll probably spam y'all with some drawings, just to get this old blog up and running again. I'll also try and use bluesky if I remember to do so, you can find me there at kalin7art.

Ngl... feels like coming home <3

I'm gonna tag this with my favorite ships and stuff you're most likely to see me post art of, so if you see this in the tags and you wanna drop a follow, I got you.

[caeslxys]

Your tags...you're right and you should say it, honestly. Saying C3 deserved a few more episodes could sound like your average "I wish my show never ended" take, except...what was everything for, if BH don't get to exist in the aftermath? Their endgame choice, everything they've been working towards, was informed by them having been on the moon and met its people. Final episodes aside, if the Ruidus plot is The BH Thing, I really wish the first trip could've had them less in a rush to report back. I wish they had the opportunity to connect even more with Ruidians and, yeah, I wish they had fought the Weavemind. I'm also rambling, sorry! I just can't believe it's controversial or made to sound like hate to say we shouldn't be begging for Moon x BH crumbs in the Moon x BH campaign.

Prefacing this with reinforcing that I truly, deeply adore those final bells hells episodes and what they contain. They’re fantastic critical role episodes in general but more importantly to me they are fantastic bells hells episodes. In a vacuum, i’m extremely happy with what we got.

That said, yeah, c3’s ending on the grander scale of its narrative structure in totality was unbelievably (and, frankly, unnecessarily) rushed. Everything since episode 91 has been in a spiral towards a finish they simply could have chosen not to spiral into so quickly. And this is seen in several things: from how Delilah was “handled” with next to no actual processing or difficulty, to the nein’s inclusion not bearing any narrative weight beyond the vague feeling of having some “avengers assemble” moment i simply did not care for and think ultimately took from bells hell’s story rather than added to it (which, were it not all rushed, is something it could have been given to them and their inclusion in the way that vox machina’s inclusion did), to the hells not even actually being able to participate in what their own campaign was ultimately about beyond quick epilogue scenes and one political discussion that they didn’t even all need to participate in.

I think the decision to have c3 be “the end of an era” irt to critical role’s ten years deeply hurt both its structure and its narrative intent. I still remember them marketing this campaign as a good jumping in point for new critters, and yet the finale doesn’t even end with bells hells. It ends on vox machina. That, to me—and in addition to the vox machina and mighty nein solo episodes—showcases a clear shift in intent that happened way, way too late to feel at all fulfilling as an audience member looking in. I’m sure as players it rocked, which I point out because obviously the fun factor matters substantially as well, but that has no bearing on criticism of the narrative it produces.

All that said: it’s truly incredible to me how much of this would have been fixed very simply by just…having more episodes. You could say this of anything but I feel it’s extremely noticeable in this story—the one thing it needed to make the constant rushing pace of its forward plot land was a denouement that allowed the characters and story to breathe for more than one eight hour episode. Bells Hells needed to learn about the culture on Ruidus. They needed to spend more time with the volition—more time even with Liliana, I would argue. They should have had their story structured in such a way that they fought the weavemind and ludinus both (especially if matt knew ludinus would ultimately make it out). They should have actually had to delve into what the story had set them up to delve into.

I adore, to pieces, campaign 3 and bells hells. I think much of the ire thrown towards it is unwarranted at best and often misplaced. But I will likely also always be at least a little mad that their final act was so clearly rushed.

[vellichorvibes]

literally 1-20 for dallyboy for the game 😭

Oh wow you asked for it! 1-20 under the cut!!!

…about my absolute favorite of their scenes and why I love it so much.

…"I was in the bedroom." He suddenly stared at me. "Glory, but your ears can get red, Ponyboy." I was remembering what usually went on in the bedrooms at Buck's parties. Then Dally grinned in amused realization. "It wasn't anything like that, kid.”...

This scene is so cute to me because Dallas notices Pony blushing, realizes why, and then assures him it’s not what he thinks. Liiike why does he need to clear things up for this sopping wet 14 year old interrupting his sleep? He’s sparing Pony from nothing but his own internal embarrassment and that’s a type of cute consideration that I sustain on

2…why I do or don’t ship them.

I definitely have a thing for sunshine/sunshine protector ships and I think these 2 match that pretty dang well!

3…if there’s a scene involving them that makes me uncomfortable.

Mmmmm no, all their interactions seem like they’ve got to happen to establish their characterizations and relationship. Even Dallas being gross with Cherry and Ponyboy being too afraid to say anything is a big part of their dynamic early on

4…how many other characters in my opinion see the chemistry of this couple before the couple itself does.

Everyone but Steve because he’s blind and Darry because he’s in denial

5…the three most perfect OTP tags that I can come up with for them.

Terrible awful flirting, idiots in love, dally’s love language is weeds

6…what kind of AU fics I’m obsessed with reading about them (or would be if I could find one).

I love a soulmate AU!! I haven’t seen ANY for them, but I’m actually working on one (and a million other things)

7…the scene that I like to point to as proof that they’re perfect for each other.

See #1

8…if I’m most interested in fics about them that focus on fluff, angst, humor, smut or actual plot?

I would just like more fics of them in general! It feels like such a small fandom to begin with and especially for this pairing. I’ll take anything!!!

9…what my ideal endgame for them is.

I mean the game ended back in the 60s…BUT IN A PERFECT WORLD I think Dal would go anywhere pony wanted. Follow that boy to college, be the most supportive hood boyfriend anyone's ever seen!

10…rate the level of stupid they reach in their pining.

I think Dallas would actually get his life together pretty quick, he can’t be out here yearning with no reciprocation. He’d ask Pony out almost before he gave it any real thought: 3/10. Meanwhile Pony would just be pining in poorly kept secret for months before someone stepped in: 567/10 .

11…how quickly I started shipping them when I got into the fandom.

As soon as I put the book down my phone was in my hand opening AO3. Instant

12…about three of the scenes that make me have feelings and (if available) find the gifs that underline my points.

Dallas visiting in the church - he's SO amused by Pony's hair and it's like "Sir, PLEASE, there's been a murder! Stop teasing your boyfriend!

Dallas talking to Pony after the rumble - he's having a full on meltdown at this point and rambling to ponyboy who is barely conscious because he's just so devastated with how things have gone

Pony watching Dallas die - Pony is begging to not lose Dallas, the kid he said deserved everything he got and worse just a few days ago. now he literally faints when he sees the boy who'd gone above and beyond to help him get gunned down "because Dally Winston wanted to be dead" 😭

13…if I can watch them in relationships with other characters without feeling gutted.

I’m currently reading a story where they both started out with other people (Curly/Pony, Dallas/Sylvia) and then over time found their way to each other and it actually wasn’t bad! It felt earned! What I have a hard time reading is either of them being with Johnny and then he dies and they bring that grief into their relationship. It’s too sad! 

14…which tropes I think describe them the best.

Friends to lovers, opposites attract, first love (for pony), grump and sunshine, bad at feelings (for dallas)

15…how I wish their story would go/would have gone.

See #9

16…three of my fic recs for this ship. And (in the event that I’ve written something for them) one of my fics involving them that I’m most proud of.

Holy SHIT any and everything by @richieshepard (sixties) but especially "fire in the sky" and a land flowing with blood and honey. And then “Hello Darlin’” by vangogh_hoe, just a cute little one-shot with some conway twitty

I have so many fics that i’m working on for dalpony, but of the 3 i’ve posted i like daytona sand best because i loved writing dallas’ POV 

17…three of my favorite fanvids for this ship. And (in the event that I’ve created something for them) one of my videos involving them that I’m most proud of.

You know i’ve actually never seen any? Would love to, but I’m still pretty new to the fandom

18…three of my favorite fanart or edits for this ship. And (in the event that I’ve created something for them) one of my art or edits involving them that I’m most proud of.

All the edits I’ve seen for these 2 have been by @sodomhipped and they’re great. Would love to see more!

19…if this is a ship that’s likely to take up room in my heart for years and decades to come or if they’re the summer romance that will probably fade into the past with a fond memory.

Hard to say! I read the outsiders on a sort of coming for age kick. It was the body, the outsiders, the warriors, that was then this is now, and rumble fish all within like a week back in march. but the outsiders and dalpony is the only one of those that i’m currently working on 13 different stories for so…i think they’re here for a while!

20…how and when they should get/should have gotten together.

After the church but before losing johnny. They’d already gone through enough together to know they were solid and didn’t need grief driving them into it. The care and consideration was there and i think if ponyboy had gotten the chance to tell dallas theres still lots of good in the world, dally would have let pony be part of it for him 😭😭😭!

Thank you SO MUCH for the ask!!!

[consumedbyfeels]

I just got this comment on my most recent Tevan fic and I'm fine with you not liking my ship, It's cool but what I'm not understanding is why you're reading it. This is not really a hate comment (I did get one of those once it sucked this is not that.). I wonder why you read a fic clearly tagged a ship you don't enjoy and then take the time to comment. I'm not entirely sure what you mean the fic should have been an email. Do you just not think people should post fics where ships aren't cannon endgame? Too many ships to count on AO3 aren't cannon most were never cannon heck some the characters never even met in cannon or aren't even from the same universe. If we fics writers limited ourselves to cannon there would be almost no fics. The fic is clearly tagged.

And to the they'll break up, they are thriving babes. They are having a romcom moment. There is no reason for them to break up. Maybe they won't be endgame (although i hope they are I love them so much) but they are happy for now and we can just enjoy that. Just read what you enjoy. I'm not saying you have to love my ship, just pay attention to tags, this was clearly tagged Tevan and it's okay to skip a fic you won't enjoy. I just think it's kinda funny, should I be offended by this? I'm not sure what the commenter wanted to accomplish but alright good for you buddy.

Ps. I write for more than Tevan generally speaking but right now Tevan has a chokehold on me and that probably all you're getting for a while so if thats not what you want my fics are not for you and that's okay. Read something you will enjoy. life is too short to spend time doing anything you don't like.