#but seeing as he's been charged and the story is officially out its fine now

[mariemariemaria]

ngl reddit breaking this story hours before the actual news outlets did is kinda insane lol

[fanficsformyfaves]

I Can See You

Loki Laufeyson x Fem Avenger!Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, Semi-Public Sex, Oral Sex (R Receiving), P in V Sex, No Protection (This is fiction, you are not, WRAP IT UP), Choking (R Receiving), Fraternizing Between Co-Worker, Mentions of Loki Being Able To Read Minds, Secret Relationship, Mentions of Hickeys, Jealous!Loki, Mentions of Masturbation (Reader), Mentions of Loki getting slapped, Mentions of Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Reader has Dark Humor

PREFACE: Loki and Reader were the newly recruited Avengers, who everyone thought just hated each other, but unbeknownst to them, they were a lot friendlier when no one was watching

A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!

Earpiece Monologue In Bold and Colored!

Loki changed after the events of Avengers 1 and gets recruited in this A/U!

"So sweet", he groaned against my cunt,

Pounding his fingers into me, as his free arm wrapped around my leg to hold me in place. How we ended up in the janitor's closet was actually quite the story.

"Don't stop, please!", I whined,

"Oh, I don't plan on it", he grinned.

Loki and I met a few months ago, when we were both recruited into the Avengers and at the beginning, we actually didn't get along.

All I'd heard about the God of Mischief prior to meeting him was that he invaded and nearly destroyed the city of New York, so to say I wasn't his biggest fan would've been an understatement.

"Welcome to the team, kid", Steve nods,

"Thank you", I smiled,

"This is great! Now we have two extra sets of hands to help with the work load!", Thor roared,

Causing me to look back at him in confusion.

"Two?"

That's when the original six turn to each other, awkwardly.

"Well, go ahead, Captain Thunderpants, it was your idea", Tony snipped.

My eyes meet Thor's, curiously.

"Well...there may be...a new recruit"

"Really? Who?", I questioned,

"Uh...", he looks to his friends for help,

"Don't look at me", Nat refused,

"Not a chance in hell", Tony also declined,

"Steve? Banner? Barton?"

"We're good", Bruce answered on behalf of the other men.

"Oh, come on, how bad could it be?", I asked.

Just then, the door slides open, revealing the devil himself.

"Team", he greeted,

Letting himself in, before his eyes fell upon me. My head snaps back in Thor's direction, who had already taken three steps back.

"Loki?!"

"Yes?", he answered.

After letting out a deep exhale, I began walking up to him.

"I don't think we've officially met-"

Unable to control my anger, I slap him hard across the face, bringing shock to all parties in the room.

"That was for New York!"

Smirking, he turns back to me, before looking over at his brother.

"I like her", he teased,

Making me groan in disgust.

For the next following weeks, I tried my best to avoid him at all costs and my plan was going according to how it should...till that the damned mission.

I was fighting off one of the Ultron bots and failed to see one charging up at me. Just as I was about to be blasted by the ray of its laser, I was pushed out of the way and pinned to the wall, left to watch another building collapse from it's lethal impact.

I turn to see who it was and there stood Loki, holding me in place by the small of me waist.

"You alright?", he questioned.

His eyes pouring into mine with such concern. All I could focus on was how little distance there was between us. My lips barely an inch away from his.

Once I realized what was happening, I snapped out of it.

"I'm fine", I said dismissively,

Before getting back to work.

Tony: Pretty cozy lookin', you sure we didn't interrupt something?

(Y/N): Shut up, Tony

Later that night, I found myself restless and unable to fall asleep. All I could think about was him and how his body felt...right against mine. How his lips were just right at my own, almost brushing against them.

I knew it was wrong, but the more I thought about how intense that moment was and how willing he was to risk his life for mine, the less I grew to despise him.

I touched myself all night to the image, till I was all tuckered out and able to drift peacefully off to sleep.

A day later, during the blowout celebration for destroying Ultron, I decided the only way I could ever face Loki again was to drink.

Sure, one or two shots would've sufficed, but alas, I got carried away and ended up somewhere near ten. Don't ask.

"Okay, you're cut off", Steve says,

Trying to take the shot glass away from me.

"Boooo, what are you my dad?"

That's when the captain's eyes widen.

"Oh shit, he's dead", I say,

Right before bursting into laughter.

"That calls for another shot!", I sing cartoonishly,

"No-"

"I've got this", a low voice says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder and roll my eyes, groaning. This man was just always somehow at the right place, at the right time.

"You sure?"

"I am, thanks", Loki reassured,

Steve nods and walks off.

"A water, please", he asked the bartender,

"I don't need you to babysit me", I slurred,

"Well, stop acting like child and I will"

"Pffft, you're lucky you're as hot as you are. I wouldn't take this shit from anyone else", I accidentally confessed.

The moment I saw his eyes widen and his fine lips curl up into a grin, I felt the realization of what I'd just done hit me.

"Don't you dare tell anyone I said that!", I warn,

Leaning forward to point, when my elbow slips off the table. Luckily, he caught me before I met the hard floor.

"Alright, let's get you to bed", he struggled,

Before throwing me over his shoulder and using his free hand to keep my dress from rising.

If it hadn't been for the loud music and crowd of people dancing, the team would've seen us and gods knew, they'd never let me live it down.

I wake up being greeted with a splitting headache and the sun shinning impossibly bright through the gap in my curtains. I was beyond relieved to remember that it was Saturday and I could take my time recovering from this hangover.

Pulling the comforter off me, I noticed that I hadn't taken off the dress I wore the night prior. As a matter of fact, I couldn't even remember how I made it to my room.

I groan to myself, eventually getting up and heading to the kitchen, but as I did, I find Loki making himself a cup of coffee. He turns to face me and grins at my less-than-stellar state.

"Morning. Care for a cup of coffee?"

"No, thanks", I snipped,

Making him scoff to himself.

I grab a bowl and began pouring in my cereal, before adding the milk and taking a seat at the dining table.

Once Loki's was done stirring his coffee, he takes the chair, right across from me. As inappropriate as it was for me to shamelessly stare at his toned arms, I couldn't seem to stop myself.

"Enjoying the view?", he remarked sarcastically,

Snapping me out of my daze.

"Bold of you to assume I was enjoying it"

He shakes his head, smiling to himself.

Curiously, my brows knit together, as my eyes narrowed at his reaction.

"What?"

"Nothing", he coyly replied.

Something was off. His once-passing glances were now longer and focused on places I'd never seen them on before. My lips, my collarbones...my chest. I couldn't help but blush at the sudden attention.

Not wanting to delve too deeply into it, I brush it off and avert my attention back to the breakfast before me.

"So?"

I look up from my bowl of cereal.

"Are we going to talk about it?", he questioned,

"Talk about what?"

"The delicious little confession you made last night"

"What are you-"

Fuck, I thought to myself.

"Ah...so you do remember?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", I rushed,

As I got up and abandoned the bowl, trying to escape the awkward encounter.

"Oh, I think you know plenty", he challenged,

Trailing behind me.

"I was drunk, obviously what I said didn't mean anything"

"Oh, darling, try as you might, I know it to be true"

I turn to tell him off, when I was met with him being closer than I anticipated. He brushes a stray hair from my face, causing a breath to hitch in the back of my throat.

"You've thought about it. You've thought about all the dirty little things you wish I'd do to you. The only person denying it...is you"

I was at a loss for words. All I could do was focus on keeping my knees from buckling, as he spoke to the deepest parts of my longing. He leans forward, now holding the side of my face and pouring his baby blue eyes into mine.

"These walls may be soundproof, but your thoughts...they're just so loud", he brushes his fingers down my arm,

"I couldn't help myself from taking a little glimpse into that pretty head of yours...do not get in the way of your own pleasure", he whispers.

My skin was on fire and my heart was threatening to give out. Any sense of reason disappeared the moment his hands abandoned my warm cheeks and trailed down to the sides of my waist. With no reservations left in mind, I grab him by the back of his neck and crashed my lips onto him.

I was then thrown into the air and my legs instinctively wrap over his hips. My tongue darting out, meeting his in a heated exchange.

"Just this once", I pulled away.

Well...lets just say that was a blatant lie.

We met almost every night since that day and neither side had any complaints. In each other's rooms, the showers, the kitchen island and couches when no one was in.

It felt almost impossible to keep our hands off of each other. He was a god after all and he sure did fuck like one.

But not all was fair in love and war.

He always felt the need to mark his territory. For instance, the Hickey incident, when Loki left one the size of an orange on the side of my neck.

"Steve was on my ass for this today", I say,

Trying to conceal the mark with makeup.

"He could only ever dream of it"

I playfully rolled my eyes, continuing to cover it up.

So, it should've come as no surprise to me, when I was yanked into the closet, after being overheard playfully flirting with Thor by Loki. Unbeknownst to him, that was my plan all along. To get him so frustrated, that he was left with no choice but to screw me out of my mind as a lesson.

He was always so possessive. Not that I minded.

As a matter of fact, it turned me on more than anything, knowing that it drove him up the wall, seeing me receive attention from anyone, other than him. Call it evil, but I liked the power I had over the god and it seemed like he was more than okay with giving it to me. Even MORE okay with taking out his frustrations on me during our intimate moments.

After effortlessly making me come undone on his skilled tongue, I was immediately flipped onto my stomach with no chance of catching a breath. I hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled and his pants hitting the ground around his feet.

"You just love how riled up I get over you, don't you? Purposefully throwing yourself at my brother of all people, simply to get a reaction out of me? Not a smart move, pet", he groaned,

Before finally impaling me in one thrust. I gasp at the sudden fullness and his hand reaches from behind me, using my throat to hold me taut against his expensive white button up shirt.

"Now now, we wouldn't want anyone to find you in this compromising position, now do we? With your hair a mess, your lipstick smeared and my cock buried deep inside you?"

He pulls away slightly, only to thrust back inside me with a newfound harshness. Not that I minded, but this time felt...different.

His pace was brutal and desperate, like he had something to prove. The angle allowing him to fill me to the hilt.

I could feel the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting me right where I needed it to.

"Loki", I quietly moaned into the air,

"Such a sweet girl. Letting me ruin her right next to our co-workers", he groaned against the skin of my neck.

The coil in the pit of my stomach began to heat up and tighten. The closer I was to my next climax, the more wanton cries of pleasure began escaping my lips.

"I feel you pulsing around me, darling. Let go for me. I'm close", he grunted against my ear.

With his hips faltering and going faster and faster, I was left at the mercy of my climax overwhelming my senses and rendering me weak and limp.

Within the next few seconds, Loki paints my clenching walls with hot ropes of white, moaning into the shell of my ear.

Once I had somewhat come down from high, I caught my breath.

"They definitely heard us", I exhaled,

Causing him to chuckle tiredly.

"Good. At least now they'll know who you belong to"

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Part I

"Are you free Thursday evening?" Akai's facing away from him, getting out of the car in a hurry. Rei's picked him up from his flat this morning (his mustang broke down, apparently), which is how they're both running late now. It's a good thing the meeting can't start without them.

In any case, Rei isn't - things have been busy in the aftermath of the takedown of the organisation, as Akai should be well aware. He did, after all, just return from a three-month vacation to FBI headquarters in Washington. The official cover story, as far as Rei knows, is Okiya going to the US to continue his PhD, while the authorities prepared to reintroduce the reborn Akai Shuichi to the world. Now he's back for good, officially appointed as the FBI's liaison to the PSB.

While he didn't share what he was up to while he was waiting to be processed, Rei has a pretty good guess - the higher-ups have been expecting all sorts of reports from him, after all, and surely Akai is just as vital a source, involved as they both were. The thought of him doing paperwork is amusing, and strangely domestic in its mundanity. (He'd love to see it.)

So, he'll figure something out. Several people owe him favours, and he has five years of vacation to catch up on. This is the first time Akai is reaching out for a meeting outside of work (not that Rei kept track or anything), and he's not about to let that chance slip through his fingers.

"I'll make it work. What for?" Agreeing without even knowing what he agreed to, he really is pathetic. And yet. He trusts the other won't waste his time or ask for the impossible.

"Dinner at the Myosotis. Seven p.m."

Rei blinks. That rings a bell. Western style fine dining, prohibitively expensive. Waiting lists of half a year, at least. Back then, they were just barely collaborating, surely Akai didn't plan this far ahead? How, then, did he get a table, and why is he inviting Rei to go there? That's the kind of place people go to for romantic marriage proposals; not the sort of restaurant the two of them would frequent, if they do eat out.

"I've already said yes, but... that's quite high-class, isn't it?" Not that he minds - being Bourbon taught him how to frequent places like that. It's just that Akai has never given any sort of indication he might like that kind of place. Huh.

(And really, if he's being honest, any place would be fine as long as it's with Akai. They have a couple of months to catch up on, after all.)

The smile Akai gives him in response is...odd. Small and genuine, private in the way that he's only ever seen Shuichi look at a select few people. Akemi. His siblings. Shinichi. But it doesn't reach his eyes, this time; instead, they're narrowed, burning with something like dread. Rei can't quite make sense of the expression.

"I think the occasion warrants it", is all Akai says before he slams the car door shut, turning his back to Rei. And that's the end of that conversation.

Alright then. Weird.

.

After that, Rei can't shake the feeling that Akai avoids him outside of work. Takes his smoke breaks alone, leaves immediately after they're done.

In situations like these Rei wishes he could talk to Hiro. It's a best friend's duty to help figure out if he's making something out of nothing, right? Maybe Akai really is just busy. And maybe he truly is in the mood for a celebratory dinner; after all, they haven't really had time to spend together since they came out of hiding, ripped apart by work and duty. They've talked, of course, but now that he's back it seems like the circumstances have calmed down enough to consider such a thing. (Even though a nagging thought tells him the official celebratory gala will be held in a couple of months, marking the half-year anniversary of the operation, and he knows Akai isn't looking forward to it.)

The thing is, that doesn't warrant it the look Akai gave him. That look was charged, it meant something. Through the years, Akai has looked at him a great many different ways. Rye mostly cold and disinterested at first, then with that faintly concealed amusement that still drives him up the walls. Okiya usually observed him with curiosity and caution. And Akai? A variety of expressions. Laughter and pain and gratitude. That bone-deep weariness that seems to cling to him like his shadow. Just once, with surprise. But rarely, if ever, as scared as he'd looked when he'd asked him out.

What was he afraid of? It's not like Rei was going to decline dinner, even if he's a little insulted it's western food. (Then again, he's quite proud of his prowess regarding traditional Japanese cuisine, so really, that would've been a worse choice.) Akai might just crave nostalgic food.

This is the third time this week he's reached this point in the argument with himself, and it really doesn't feel like he's getting any closer to the truth.

In the years he's known him, Akai has never shown to be the type to celebrate. Not that the organisation left much room to celebrate. As Okiya, Rei never got close enough to figure out his preferences. And as for Akai...well, he seemed happy enough, if exhausted, coming back from his sister's birthday party, and that's really the only indication Rei has. Maybe he doesn't know Akai as well as he thought. The idea stings.

Still, it makes no sense. If he wanted to celebrate, the takedown was a team effort, and Rei knows agents Starling and Black are in the country. He's checked their schedules, but neither they nor Kazami are free next week, at that certain hour. (Alright, well, in Kazami's case it might be Rei's fault he's busy, but he needs someone capable to cover for him.)

The Kudos, arguably the masterminds behind the operation, have left for a vacation to the Swiss alps, too. Allegedly, they've taken Shinichi with them to recover in mountain air - privately, Rei has heard through the grapevine that talking things out with Ran didn't go so well. She's asked for some time to think about their relationship, so Shinichi is off bringing crime to Swiss ski resorts for a change.

None of the usual suspects are free, or invited. It seems it's really just the two of them.

He doesn't want to, can't afford to indulge the foolish hope that Akai might've missed him as much as Rei did (his dry wit, his dependability, the scent of his cigarettes and aftershave in their sheets). They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but is it enough for such a shift to occur with Akai?

Their work did keep them too busy to do anything but exchange short texts or calls every once in a while. That little had been a must, for Rei; while officially the organisation might be gone, some stragglers have yet to be found. Thus, he's been checking up on Akai, just to make sure he's still alright out there. (He wants to touch him and hold him and hear his heartbeat, wants to make sure he's alive. Wants too many things he can't have, as usual.)

Rei has promised himself he'll never act on these feelings; can't destroy this careful balance they have managed to attain. But if Akai's the one reaching out, who is Rei to decline? If after all they've gone through Akai still wants to stay by his side, Rei doesn't have the strength to push him away for his own good.

Throughout their relationship, it's always been Rei asking to meet him to exchange sweaters and information. For Akai to take this step now, and in such a grandiose manner, leaves him reeling, uncertain of the other's intentions. Among the living, he's probably the one who knows the sniper best, and yet he just can't figure out what this means. The uncertainty is maddening.

Damnit, really, what is he supposed to think about Akai inviting him to a high-class dinner? Just the two of them?

.

Hiro hasn't contacted him either, since that time in the Kudo mansion. He'd assured Rei he was safe, doing alright. Sorry for not being able to meet. And that was that.

(In a moment of weakness, Rei's asked Akai for his number. But Akai had revealed he'd only gotten the contact info for a burner phone, worthless after that one use.)

He's missed Hiro before, when he wasn't sure whether he was alive or dead, but somehow, knowing he is out there and not being able to reach him is worse. Hiro was supposed to have his back, and now he can't even help him out with his uncertain thoughts and feelings regarding one Akai Shuichi. Traitor.

.

Rei's fretting for hours about his look for dinner. (When was he last out on a date that actually mattered?)

It's not like he's lacking in confidence. He knows he cleans up nicely, and working with Vermouth for years has left him fashion-conscious. He's perfectly aware of how to dress up appropriately for a venue like the Myosotis. Honestly, he's more concerned (and quite frankly, intrigued) how Akai will fare.

Still, he wonders if the red tie is perhaps a bit too much. He's added it on a whim, for a splash of colour, but now he's considering whether it's too bold, wearing Akai's namesake openly. He's probably overthinking it. It's not like Akai to pick up on such clues.

He's triple-checked, by this point, his nails and hair and teeth. His suit is crisply ironed. It's perfect. What could possibly go wrong?

.

Rei finds himself at the restaurant a quarter hour early. A waiter shows him to the lovely window seats Akai has reserved for them, looking out over the city's lights. It's beautiful. The place is pleasantly quiet, a separée creating an ambience of privacy. Bathing the space in warm light is a cream candle, placed on a perfectly ironed tablecloth. After a couple of moments, the waiter returns with a bottle of quality champagne, chilled for their convenience.

Myosotis couldn't be more stereotypically romantic if it tried, and Rei finds his face burning as hot as the flame in front of him. It's a good thing he's a little early; he'll need time to steady himself to face Akai. Maybe have a glass of cool champagne to calm his nerves.

Rei runs one last check, refreshes his cologne on neck and wrist, and waits.

.

A couple minutes go by, during which he tries several different grounding techniques, to limited effect. He still perks up when, from the corner of his eyes, he spots Okiya's pastel pink hair - though it is in confusion, the excitement dying down quickly, replaced with fury. The posture of the man is incredibly familiar.

Conscious of where they are, and what is appropriate, Rei gets up from their table to greet him.

"You've kept me waiting long enough."

And with the brightest possible smile he can muster, he slaps his best friend across the face, hard.

.

"Yeah, I guess I deserve that." At least it's his own voice. Hiro's awkward smile looks off on Okiya's pretty face, and Rei has to fight the urge to throw his arms around his neck. Whether to hug him or strangle him, he doesn't quite know, himself.

"You..." 'deserve much worse than that. Deserve much better than that. Are an asshole and an idiot and it's so good to see you-'

People are noticing the commotion. Bourbon's reflexes kick in, uncomfortable with the attention. He finds himself closing the distance and hissing at Hiro.

"Take a seat before we cause even more of a scene."

Hiro-as-Okiya follows him into the separée. A waiter comes by, pouring him a glass of champagne too. The mood is as frosty as their drinks.

Hiro makes no move to continue the conversation. Great.

"...would you care to explain", Rei asks through his best Amuro smile, "what exactly you are doing here?" He considers adding 'and why you are dressed as Akai's ridiculous cover', but figures that one's self-evident.

"I wanted to see you, so Akai helped me out. The paperwork is taking its sweet time." He says it nonchalantly, as if it is that simple. As if he hasn't been MIA for half a year, and presumed KIA for years before that.

He's willing to bet this meeting was Akai's bright idea. Rei's all too familiar with his idea of 'help'. Doing what he thinks is best in the shadows, without talking to the person he's allegedly helping out.

It sucks, because he knows the FBI agent meant well. He probably thought this was a pleasant surprise. (And it is, just a little.)

It just very much does not help that Rei had quite different expectations of how this evening would go. He was expecting something much nicer than spontaneously having to decide whether he should make use of Hiro's shellfish allergy and poison him right then and there. (The answer is no, will always be no, who is he even kidding.)

Hiro's blue eyes stare at him from across the table, illuminated in warm candlelight. They clash horribly with the pink hair. It makes Rei nauseous. He looks down at the table.

He manages a strangled "I would have appreciated a heads-up." For this situation in particular and the fact that Hiro's alive, in general.

"Did he not tell you?"

"No. And it's not like I expected anything of the sort from him." 'You, however, should have known better.'

"Look, Zero-" Rei's withering glare makes him falter for a second, but he presses on. "I couldn't let you know. It was too dangerous at the time, for myself and Rye. And you."

Oh, great. Another person looking out for his supposed well-being. Except, it really only was about the success of their mission, wasn't it? As if that was ever worth his best friend's life.

He clenches his fist under the table, tries to calm himself. Fails. "I get that. I really, truly do." He rises, slams his hands on the table, leans across. Stares at the farce that is Okiya, just a lie this time.

"But it's been three years, Hiro." Then, quietly: "I thought you were dead."

Countless nights spent visiting morgues, checking if all bodies matching Hiro's stature were accounted for. Checking international flights. Investigating the ruins of the exploded building, in hopes of finding evidence of tampering. Looking over the remains of the body, burnt and crushed, with only the totality of the destruction hinting at foul play. Years and years of hounding Akai, trying to get answers from the one person who had to know, only to not make it in time. That terrible night Gin had sent him a gift, Akai falling lifelessly back into the video's frame, joining Scotch in a violent end; his last lead going up in flames and smoke. Mourning Matsuda and Date, alone.

He fights down the bile rising in his throat with practiced ease. His eyes sting and burn, but he won't be embarrassed now by giving in.

To his credit, Hiro has backed off as far as he can, shrinking under Rei's glare. Familiar blue eyes lock with his, and Rei needs to focus on them because everything else about the Okiya getup gives him whiplash he doesn't know how to deal with. Hiro takes a breath, steadies himself.

"Zero." A warm hand is gently laid atop his own. So familiar, so comforting, even after years apart. Rei wants to run, or fight, or both, but finds himself anchored in place.

"I'm sorry. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, as many times as you need me to."

As if any number of apologies could erase years and years of grief and guilt and loneliness. If he'd just been faster, if Hiro had just trusted him, they would've found a solution, it was never worth his life-

"...why didn't you come to me, Hiro?" Idiot.

Because after months and years to contemplate it, that's the root of the problem, isn't it? The start of the betrayal. The broken promise from their academy days, splintering even further. 'We can handle anything, as long as we're together.' And then fate had ripped them apart, one by one, counting down to zero. Except Hiro had had a choice.

"I'm sorry. I did what I thought was necessary." He wears his emotions on his face.

And for a split-second, Rei doesn't see Hiro. He sees Akai, a week ago; his small smile, his pained eyes. Denial and self-sacrifice. Just what in the world made Akai look at him like that?

It's disorienting enough that he finds his spiralling thoughts interrupted, blinking at Hiro. He backs off, sits back down.

"Promise me, now, that you'll never run off like that again." Please, he can't say, but tries to convey through squeezing Hiro's hand just slightly too hard, before he pulls back in time for the waiter coming in with their entrées.

"I'll try."

Rei glares at him. Not good enough.

"Okay, okay, I won't." Hiro laughs, and oh, how Rei has missed the sound. Some of the tension bleeds out of him, and he finds himself joining his best friend, helplessly.

This isn't over, the pain isn't gone. It's unlikely it ever will, and there surely will be more arguments in the future (and sparring. He really wants to knock some more sense into Hiro). The trust they're missing will be hard to rebuild.

But Rei has had no choice but to live without Hiro for three years now. Has missed him painfully, every single day. If he's going to live in pain either way, might as well have it caused by Hiro's continued presence by his side.

If he gets a second chance at life then Hiro deserves one, too.

...................................................................................

Part II

Dinner after that is slow, but pleasant.

Akai has apparently pre-ordered roasts that need several days to be prepared for them, and while the quality is good, the style of food just isn't Rei's favourite. Hiro seems pretty delighted by it though, so that's something at least.

They leave charged topics carefully untouched. Since Hiro isn't on active duty, Rei can't really talk about his PSB work, and Hiro isn't at liberty to talk about his cover either. So small talk it is. Rei shows Hiro pictures of Haro, and he's immediately taken (as he should).

By the time they've made it past the main dish, they're running out of idle chitchat. Hiro's bracing himself, seems to be working up the courage to ask something. Rei can already tell he won't like the upcoming conversation.

"So, Zero." He folds his hands together, and leans on the table, looking inquisitively. "Do you mind explaining what's going on between you and Akai?"

"Nothing." The answer comes too quick and too pressed, he's not fooling anyone. And that's without accounting for the fact that Hiro knows him too well, even after three years apart. He smiles, faintly.

"Of course. Nice cologne, by the way. I'm sure Hagiwara would approve of the selection." He taps the fingers of the hand he's wrapped around Rei's wrist earlier on the wooden table. Rei feels embarrassment well up. Hiro, as usual, is annoyingly perceptive. Still, cologne is not too out of the ordinary. He tries to cover his choice up with professionalism, and even almost believes himself.

"Yes. It's only proper for an establishment such as this one."

"Yes, yes." Hiro concedes, too easily. His eyes narrow, aiming for the kill. "And I guess red just happens to be your new favourite colour?" The crimson tie around his neck feels too much like a noose, suddenly, restricting his airflow. It's probably the damn candle's fault too, burning all their oxygen. He flushes, despite his best efforts.

"Not my favourite, but it felt appropriate for a celebration", he gets out. It really doesn't help that Hiro is wearing Akai's second skin, the one he's too comfortable seeing. Though the eyes are different, he has trouble shaking the reminder of certain evenings in the Kudo manor. Drinking their sorrows away, just the two of them.

"And you were going to celebrate with a romantic candlelight dinner?" Hiro's arched eyebrow could reach space.

"Trust me, that is as strange to me as it must be to you."

"Oh no, it isn't - I've seen the look he gets when you text him."

And Rei hates himself, hates his traitorous body that perks up at those words, hates the burning curiosity. Wants Hiro to explain, wants it to be true. Hates that Hiro knows how to play him, still, judging by that infuriatingly kind smile. Hiro is so lucky they're in public. He'd very much like to wipe it from his face.

Rei wonders, briefly, if that's why Akai selected the location, and didn't tell him the truth - if he'd asked, Rei's not sure he would have agreed to meet Hiro, the betrayal still too painful in his mind. Not that this kind of secrecy is appreciated. He really thought they were past that, by now. He'll need to deal with Akai, properly, later.

"Do I look like I care about what the FBI idiot is up to?"

He knows a tactical misstep when he sees it, and he's walked right into this one.

"To be quite honest with you: yes." Hiro hides his smile behind his glass of champagne. Badly. His eyes shine with amusement.

Damnit. What's the point of pretending when Hiro just sees right through him anyways? Rei's so tired of fighting himself at every step.

"Alright, fine. Make yourself useful, then. What did he look like?"

"He lit up like his phone's screen whenever a new text arrived." That, at least, is soothing. There had been quite a few texts. He'd assumed, after all, that he was keeping a bored and lonely Akai company. Just how long has Hiro been with him? Did Akai just ignored his best friend during their flight in favour of chatting with Rei? Asshole.

"If I dare say so, it was quite cute."

Rei doesn't bother to dignify that with a response. His burning cheeks probably provide more of an answer than he would like to give, anyways.

"Alright, I won't push you if you don't want to talk about it. Just know that I'll have an open ear for you, if you change your mind." He slips a card with a handwritten phone number in it. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Rei memorizes it, then burns the paper.

"By the way." Hiro seems a little concerned, fiddling with his glass. "Akai gave me a couple of odd looks while we were flying back. Any idea what that's about? He went out of his way to sneak me into the country, and we had some good talks, so I struggle to see why he's upset with me?"

At this point, the waiter brings in their dessert.

A medium-sized chocolate cake, heart-shaped. A fork is delicately placed on either side.

Hiro shrugs in response to his questioning look. Amuro's customer service smile slips on easily enough. "I'm sorry? I think you've mistaken the dessert for this table."

"Ah, no, gentlemen. All dishes have been prepared according to the requests of the person making the reservation." How odd.

They thank the waiter, wait until he's out of earshot.

Disjointed information is snapping into place.

"Hiro, you've seen more of him recently. Please tell me this is Akai's idea of a joke."

Because the man has a keen sense of humour, even if it's often only for his own amusement. Gods know as Bourbon Rei wanted to strangle him for his quiet mockery.

But surely he can't be implying what Rei thinks he's implying.

"Hm." Hiro pauses for a minute, bless him, actually contemplating the issue while taking an appreciative bite from the chocolate cake. Which they will not be sharing, like that. Rei cuts it in half with his fork, dragging one half towards his side of the plate.

"I don't think so, no. It's hard to tell with him." 'No, it's not', Rei wants to say, 'you can tell by the barely visible laughter lines around his eyes.' He wisely keeps his mouth shut. It wouldn't help his case about how little is going on between him and Akai.

"But I'm inclined to say he was painfully sincere. It was his idea to arrange this dinner, and before he dropped me off, he wished me good luck. I assumed, at the time, that he was concerned about me walking back out alive without my head bitten off. Now, I think he might have somehow gotten the wrong idea about us."

Rei shoves a piece of chocolate cake into his mouth. The icing melts pleasantly on his tongue.

Akai set him up on a date with his best friend.

The FBI agent can be so smart when he needs to. How is he so hopeless whenever interpersonal relationships are involved?

"Idiot."

That's going to be a fun talk.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 3

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, usual Criminal Minds canon type conversation, mentions of violence, nothing descriptive though. Minor flirtation, smut maybe eluded to. So. for those of you who loved how long the first chapter was, this may just be the fic for you. I originally wanted this entire "trip" to be one chapter but this one ended up being long enough on its own so I've split it up by days. Downside: you now have to wait for the smut. LOL. sorry not sorry at least that means we're now getting more plot? more time for our girls to actually get to know each other...

It was as if your first case in the field was your official initiation onto the team. Though honestly, it kind of was, being a profiler wasn’t for everyone, especially with the BAU. You had to be quick on your feet, fit in well with the rest of the team, be used to seeing gruesome crime scenes and be ready to leave Quantico at a moment’s notice, not worrying about what you were leaving behind. After the case in Omaha you’d proven yourself on all accounts and found yourself thoroughly enjoying coming into work and the people you spent your days with.

It started out with a coffee left on your desk, a friendly good morning from Penelope along with a warm smile. Monday’s she would linger a little bit longer, asking how your weekend went and when you mentioned most of your free time was still spent making yourself have energy for unpacking and trying to figure out where everything would go in your house she offered up some of her time the next weekend. Considering her office was one of the most positivity oozing rooms at the BAU you figured it’d be nice to have her as a second set of eyes. That weekend you discovered you were both coming from the same direction and usually stopped to grab coffee together on the way into work, giving you a little more gossip time before hitting Quantico.

After your first trip to the range with Derek you found that there was a lot of friendly competition banter going on between the two of you. In spare time between cases or to kick the mid afternoon slump doing paperwork you started running together, which lead to hitting the gym together a couple of times a week. The competition definitely helped both of you push yourselves passed the limits you’d normally go, not to the point of hurting, but you were already seeing results and you weren’t complaining.

One of your weekends you’d been out exploring Alexandria and ended up running into JJ coming out of a cute café. The accidental run in had you being introduced to Will and the boys, joining them in the park for a couple of hours afterwards. The boys loved you, pleading for more playdates, asking if you could come for dinner. You politely had to decline that night but did offer up to Will and JJ that if they ever wanted a date night you were more than willing to babysit free of charge.

Spencer and you often found yourselves talking about books, exchanging some of your favourites to read in downtime or while on the jet. It was another thing that helped you actually get unpacked and get yourself set up, wanting to find specific ones you knew he’d enjoy. He took you to a couple of his favourite old book stores around the area, spending a few hours perusing the shelves for a few hours until you had selected a few.

Even Rossi you found yourself getting along with perfectly, though your conversations were more limited or related to work. He did have a plethora of knowledge on fine wine and whiskey that you weren’t about to turn down, and you ended up having a couple of life chats over the weeks. He’d been with the bureau for long enough to have seen it all and the stories and lessons he could provide were ones you were going to pay strict attention to.

The only one you hadn’t had much one on one time with was Emily. Well… since you’d shown up for your first day of work that is. There were small fleeting moments here and there, ones where you had to drop off paperwork in her office, or when the two of you happened to be filling up coffees at the same time. Caught in the breakroom together with so much sexual tension buzzing between you, you were glad you were alone, it would be a wonder for no one else to pick up on it. It certainly didn’t help that you’d both been busy trying not to think about fucking the other person and with work that you hadn’t exactly had time to find someone else to relieve the urge. Instead your nights were full of remembering just how good Emily made you feel, your hands often wandering, wishing they were hers instead of your own.

Every day you got to work Emily would, once again, think about completely remodelling her office so your desk wasn’t in her direct eyeline when she was sat at hers. Your laughter would drift through the bull pen into her ears like fucking silk and it was killing her, she was more than happy to see you fitting in with everyone else but there was almost a twinge of jealousy. She wondered if the two of you would be able to hang out and just be friends as she watched you chatting with Penelope. She nearly had herself convinced she would be fine until you stood from your desk, leaning over to grab something from Spencer’s and the neck of your blouse gaped low enough she could see the green lace of your bra and swell of your chest underneath it. She let out a groan, dropping her pen to her desk as she shifted her thighs together. She needed to fuck you again.

Absolute need, not want.

*

It had been a relatively relaxing week, if one could even say that about working with the FBI. You all thought you were basically in the clear, waiting for the okay to come through so you could enjoy the weekend ahead. You’d finished a pile of paperwork earlier, dropping it in Emily’s inbox on her desk, thankful for the fact that she was in the conference room for once. Currently, Spencer had pulled up to your desk as the two of you were competing to see who could finish the crossword the fastest. (It wasn’t a competition, you all knew Spence was going to obliterate you, but it was a fun way to kill the time). None of you even noticed Emily exit the conference room as she quickly strode along the raised platform to her office, her authoritative voice breaking into the calm atmosphere of the bull pen.

“Wheels up in ten!”

You glanced up and she’d already disappeared into her office, your brow furrowed as you looked across at JJ, curious about what was different today.

“Means it’s super time sensitive.” The blonde replied, pulling open a drawer of her desk to grab her go bag, “we’ll debrief on the jet.”

*

The jet was on its way to Atlanta, where an unsub had been kidnapping young girls, taunting their families and the local police down to a specific timeline until he killed his victim. The first girl had been kidnapped almost a month ago and her body hadn’t turned up until nearly a week later but with each victim he got, the unsub was escalating, taking less and less time between the hunt and the kill. It had taken two weeks for police to realize things were connected, much less a pattern. Two days ago a young girl had gone missing from her bed in the middle of the night, it was the first kidnapping of its kind, originally not thought to be connected until the taunting started. Police found her body thirty six hours after she was taken. At eleven a.m. today a girl, April, was snatched from the playground at school and you had deduced you had less than twenty four hours to find her alive.

“We’ll be touching down in ten.” Emily’s voice floated through the jet, returning from the cockpit, pulling you out of the trance you’d been in reading over the case file, “Spence, Morgan, you’re going to the local precinct, read what they’ve got, figure out what they’re missing. JJ and Rossi talk to the families, all of them, we’ve got to figure out if there’s a connection between these girls, something that might help us find the unsub. Wilson and I will take the school and work through the other crime scenes.”

There was a small rumble of accepting roles through the jet, nods from all of you as you shifted into the right focus for the rest of the day. Emily hadn’t even really realized she’d paired herself off with you, she’d simply been thinking who was best applied where to find this girl as fast as they could. She dropped down into the seat next to you, her arm brushing against yours on the arm rest and heat surged through your body at what felt like an incredibly inappropriate moment. You cleared your throat to regain your focus, passing her the file you’d been looking through and shifted slightly in your seat so you weren’t touching her.

You could think about her touching you once you were in the privacy of your hotel room tonight, right now you had a job to do.

*

You were thankful for the distraction of work as you and Emily pulled up to the school, briefly talking with the local pd, a couple of teachers and the principal. Despite the police already doing a sweep, it was still ongoing, while Emily busied herself with talking to a few of April’s friends, trying to figure out exactly where she had been playing and if anyone had a description of who she’d gone off with you were retracing steps through the playground. One of the structures was made up to be a ship, cops said they’d found April’s back pack on the lower deck of it so you knew she’d been playing somewhere on it. You noticed a child sized entrance that lead to the below deck area, letting out a groan at the fact that this was clearly made for tiny humans and not adults, but weaseled your way through it anyways. Using your flashlight you searched the area, sand squishing under your shoes as you swept every inch. A bit of graffiti on the wood, an sand pail in the corner to collect the garbage, a note or two pinned to the wall as form of communication between kids who had recess at different times. The beam of your light swept over the corner of the space and a flash of vey bright colour caught your eye, pulling a glove out of your pocket you tugged it on before picking it up.

“Prentiss!” You called out, scrambling back through the entrance.

“Yeah?” Her voice replied from a distance and you found an exit from the ship, jumping back down to the sand. “You get something?”

“This is the same bracelet that they found on Lucy’s body.” You held it up.

“Looks like some kind of friendship bracelet.”

“Can’t be a coincidence.” You tugged your phone out of your pocket, snapping a picture of it before Emily pulled out an evidence bag for you to drop it into.

“Get that picture to JJ to see if any of the other parents remember seeing it on their kid, or who it might’ve been from. Loop in Garcia to see if it’s chain made or not. You mind?” She reached out for the bag and you shook your head, handing it off to her, “I’m gonna talk with a couple of these guys, make sure April was the one wearing it.”

“Yeah.”

You shot off the handful of texts, checking in with what the others had discovered so far, chatting back and fourth a bit before you swept through the rest of the playground. Emily appeared at your side again later and you glanced up,

“Hers?” You gestured to the bracelet and she nodded.

“You’ve got a good eye.” She practically smirked and you laughed softly before following her back to the car.

*

The rest of the afternoon was spent examining previous crime scenes, or doing so through photos and reports, visiting the medical examiner’s office and finally making a pit stop at the local pd’s office. You poured over photos there, looking through the files Morgan and Reid had left for you, along with statements JJ had emailed over. The sun was long gone from the sky by the time you and Emily were finally pulling up to the hotel, parking and grabbing your bags before heading into the lobby. Rossi was waiting for you, tossing a key in Emily’s direction, and old school keychain on it that had the room number embezzled on it.

“I don’t get one.” You half joked and Rossi laughed.

“You two were the last here, you’re bunking up.” He shrugged, clapping Emily on the shoulder, “can’t pull that chief card every trip.” She rolled her eyes, swatting her hand in his direction as he made his way out the front door.

“C’mon.” She nudged at your elbow, nodding in the direction of your room number, wandering through the halls until you found it. She let out a breath when the door swung open to reveal two beds, thankful she wouldn’t have to be that up in your space tonight. “I need a shower.” She grumbled, dumping her bag on the bed farthest from the door.

“Go for it.” You sighed in return, flashing her a small smile before kicking off your shoes, dropping yourself onto the other bed letting out a groan.

Emily grabbed a couple of things from her bag before slipping into the bathroom, making sure the door was locked behind her. She had to admit, so far things seemed to be going good, there wasn’t any awkwardness lingering in the air, despite the back of her brain wanting to invite you into the shower with her, you’d both managed to keep what happened between you from coming up again. She flicked the water on, giving it time to adjust to her preferred temperature while she stripped down and stepped into it.  She took the time to relax, to try and turn off the profiler part of her brain for at least a couple of hours before going to bed. She had almost forgotten where she was, her mind drifting to that first night spent with you, her hand slipping lower on her body when she heard the television spring to life in the other room and her eyes snapped open.

“Fuck…” she muttered, shaking her head, “get yourself together Prentiss.”

*

On the other side of the door your head tilted up at what you thought was Emily talking, wondering if this was one of those hotels who stored their towels outside the bathroom or something. But after a moment of silence you figured you must’ve heard something from the hallway instead. Dropping back onto the bed you did your best to distract yourself, scrolling through your phone, it was purely out of instinct you’d left the tv on the late night news channel, you almost always had it going to see what they were reporting on versus what you were working on.

Your eyes drifted toward the bathroom again, listening to the sound of the water running, wondering how long Emily usually showered for. Your only hope of relief after spending all fucking day with her was once you’d gotten to the hotel; however this was far less private than you’d been hoping for. You thought about it for all of two more seconds before you realized that it was a terrible idea, if you were going to you should at least wait until you were the one behind the locked door.

*

Emily turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her as she used a smaller one to somewhat dry her hair. She’d washed her face in the shower, smoothing on overnight cream and drying herself off. Since you were in the room she figured she’d get dressed in the bathroom, tossing the used towel over one of the racks before finally opening the door and wandering back into the hotel room. Her eyes moved between the tv playing the news and you sitting on your bed with your iPad on your lap, she knew by the way your lip was tugged into your mouth that you were still working. At the very least you’d changed into comfier clothes, a cute pair of glasses on your face as you worked.

“Didn’t realize you wore glasses.” She greeted and you glanced up at her.

“Hmm?” You replied before you’d properly digested what she’d said, “oh! Pen suggested them, they’re for the blue light, supposed to help with eye tiredness and headaches and shit.”

“You get a lot of those?” She asked, picking through amenities on the coffee table.

“They can get pretty bad from time to time.” You let out a soft sigh, “especially with the constant travelling. I’m still pretty used to Florida so anywhere particularly dry or cold makes it worse. Part of why I liked Florida so much, cold aggravates the ribs, never really heal properly those things.”

“Don’t I know it.” She chuckled softly, her fingers moving from the caddy of coffee pods over to the basket of snacks. “Injury in the field?”

“Cheer camp.” You admitted and she turned to you with a laugh, a wide smile on her face.

“What?” She laughed, the smile wide enough her eyes crinkled in an incredibly adorable way, “you were a cheerleader?”

“Scholarship covered university.” You simply shrugged in response, smile on your cheeks.  

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” She teased with a grin as you laughed, turning back to your iPad. She let out a small sigh, chucking a pack of peanuts down onto the table, “I’m gonna go grab some food, you wanna come?”

“Nah.” You mumbled, not glancing up from the screen as she pulled on a jacket, picking up her wallet.

“You better not be overworking yourself.” She warned and you rolled your eyes.

“You know when you’ve got two dots and you just can’t seem to connect them but you just know that they’re related.”

“Okay, okay.” She held up a hand in defeat, “we’ve all been there. Can I at least get you something?”

“Where’re you going?”

“Dunno.” She shrugged, “saw a diner up the road that was still open, figured it’s twenty four hours.”

“Yeah.” You let out a small sigh, leaning over on the bed to grab some cash out of your wallet, “just like a sandwich or something, I’m not picky.”

“You sure?” She asked, tucking the cash into her pocket.

“Oh!” Your face nearly lit up, “don’t ask me why but I have had the worst hankering for mozzarella sticks.” You grabbed your wallet again, digging out some more cash to hand to her while she laughed.

“What are you, eighty?”

“What?” You laughed back while she took the cash and shook her head,

“Hankering? I’d expect that from Rossi but not you.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” You feigned offence and she chuckled softly, moving toward the door as you returned your attention to your work. The news on the tv took a turn, covering the open case you were working and it caught Emily’s attention for a moment as she stalled right by the door.

“Hey…” she began softly, “how did you know to even check under that ship thing?”

“Park by my house has the same structure.” You muttered in response.

“You spend a lot of time at the playground or are you hiding some secret kids on us?” She raised a brow and it was your turn to bark a laugh.

“Em… you’ve been to my house.”

“I wasn’t exactly given the grand tour.” She nearly smirked back and you felt your cheeks heat.

“You’re telling me an FBI profiler isn’t at least tempted to snoop a bit on their way out?” You grinned across at her, “and no, I babysat for JJ, the boys loved that ship. I had a fucking heart attack when I thought I’d lost them but they were just underneath the ship, called it their own private fort.”

“Hmm…” She nodded with a small smile, a blooming within her at the thought of you out with the team outside of the office, partaking in non work activities. She was glad, it was important to form those kind of relationships, to have those bonds so you weren’t constantly buried in work and lost in the darkness that was the world of unsubs. The thought crossed her mind and she glanced back up at you, “hey…” that caught your attention and you looked up, “if you’re going to keep working would you at least turn on something a little bit more lighthearted?” She gestured to the television and you held back an eye roll, “that’s an order from your superior, you know that right?”

She smirked as you bit back a grin, reaching for the remote and flicking through a few channels until you found some late night South Park, glancing back to her with a raised brow in the way that you were asking if that was substantial. She nodded with a soft smile before slipping through the door, making sure it was closed behind her before making her way to the car.

You felt an overwhelming sensation of warmth and comfortability as you settled against the headboard. Perhaps attempting to avoid each other was the wrong move, after all, you hadn’t exactly spent much time talking the night you’d met, maybe this was the route you were meant to go after all.  

_____________

@ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @yesterdaysgone @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @softgamerking @httpjupiterbby @somethingimaginative177 @temilyrights @alexxavicry  @mysticfalls01 @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @alcabots @7thavenger @ladysc @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @disneyfan624 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @gamma-ray-bursts @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @bookpillows @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx  @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess  @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @bluetodie @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum

[hannahsmusings]

Jackson

*you were so damn expressive, he could read everything you were thinking and feeling right on your face, you wearing your heart on your sleeve and he loved it about you, there were no games with you, you were open and honest without even needing to speak and Jackson felt so comforted by that, knowing in this moment you were feeling all the same things he was, that making this 100x harder, wishing everything was different, so fucking different, so he could wrap you up in his arms and never let you go again* *all Jackson wanted to do was reach out and cup your cheek, tilt your chin up towards him and promise he’ll make it right, that everything will be fine, but he knew he couldn’t do that because he couldn’t lie to you, he could lie to everyone else but not you, you didn’t deserve that* *he wanted to rewind time, his chest so damn tight with unsaid emotions, feeling so out of whack and like his world had tilted on its axis, feeling like he needed to grip the couch to keep himself upright, all the tension in the room was stronger and even more charged now, the kiss just amplifying everything you two were feeling* *Jackson nearly reached out when you winced, hating to see you in pain, not sure how he managed not to hurt you while he kissed you but thankful that he did or else he’d never forgive himself, his eyes narrowing in on the cut before flickering back to your eyes* Be careful. please. *he gave you a small smile, it not reaching his eyes but it was all he could muster right now* you don’t need to thank me, Hannah. *his voice was low and raspier than usual, he kept his eyes locked on yours until you turned away from him, it feeling like you were taking a piece of him with you, like he was missing a goddamn limb, his brain and heart screaming at him to go after you* *he was officially a goner as soon as you said that nickname, it being your special one for him, no one ever calling him that and his heart nearly burst right through his rib cage and skin, wanting to give it to you physically, show you that you had his entire fucking heart in your dainty little hand* Goodnight, Hannah. *he watches as you disappear into the hallway and then into your room, the door closing behind you and it felt like his room was closing in around him, suddenly not able to get enough air in his lungs, his hand going up to loosen his tie, needing it away from his neck, ripping it off his body and tossing it aside, his blood feeling charged in his veins and making him antsy, starting to pace as his breath gets heavier, not sure what was happening but he had half the mind to break your door down to get to you again*

___________________________________

*saying goodnight felt so poignant, knowing that moment between us had changed everything, not just our relationship but my whole world view, never believing in the ‘one’ or that butterflies in the stomach, sparks behind the eyes, fluttering of the heart existed, thinking it was all made up in films and story books, not something I’d ever have but with you, it was all of that and more, I was staggered by how complete I felt now, like that one thing missing for me had just been found* * I close the door behind me and that’s where the tension snaps, breath coming in pants and turning to lean against the doorframe, heart pounding in my chest, so fast it was humming, feeling my hands tremble with the want to turn and run back to you, closing my eyes and rubbing my hands over my face to try and take a breath* *I couldn’t think, my mind racing with thoughts of your eyes, your hands, your lips, never being held like the way you’d held me and I knew that things between me and Matt were done now, what I felt for you in this moment was miles ahead of anything I’d ever felt with Matt and even though I knew nothing else could ever happen I still needed to end things properly* *i take myself into the ensuite bathroom, deciding a shower would help, standing under the water for a long while to warm the constant shivering, suddenly feeling exhausted as tonight had been emotionally draining*

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[zafirosreverie]

Por amor al arte (Julieta x Fem!Reader) part 18

part1 < > next

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"Hey"

You smiled slightly when you felt a pair of hands on your hips and warm breath tickled the back of your neck. You turned to meet Julieta's concerned eyes, scanning you completely. It was cute how despite having healed the few cuts, bruises, and burns you and Eliza had from the fire by the time you stepped foot in Casita, she was still checking on you both to make sure you were okay. She made you feel safe and loved.

“Hey” you said softly “I'm fine, Juli. You made sure of that” you reminded her

The brunette simply sighed before smiling at you. She caressed your cheek tenderly, enjoying the feel of your soft, healthy skin against her palm. Yes, she knew that you were physically fine, but the fear of almost losing you had not been erased, no matter how many days had passed.

"I'm sorry" she told you "it's just that..."

She didn't need to finish for you to understand the message. You smiled at her and gave her a tender kiss on the tip of her nose and another on the corner of her mouth (that seemed to be your new favorite place to kiss her) before slipping your arms under hers and hiding your face in her neck. You savored the way she immediately pulled you closer and rubbed gentle circles down your back. She was your safe place, maybe one day you would have the courage to tell her.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" you whispered against her skin

"Who cares?" she frowned

"...I do" you admitted "I will never forget what they did to my family but despite everything...I don't hate them and I don't wish them harm"

Julieta felt a warm pang just by hearing your voice so soft, fragile, and warm. God, you were a real angel. Just a few hours ago, the De La Moras had been officially expelled from Encanto by Alma Madrigal's orders on charges of attempted murder against the Madrigal family (you had blushed when Julieta had hugged you at that). It was scandalous news throughout the town because no one had ever aroused the wrath of the family that was practically royalty, to the point of exile. And how would anyone expect less? if Karim was still unconscious in the nursery (Mirabel was staying with Dolores), which filled you with fear.

Still, you hadn't had the strength to go, because for better or worse, they were part of your story, and seeing them leave never to return felt like the final closure of your story with Daniel and you didn't know how to feel about it. Of course, you were happy to finally break up with those people who had done you so much harm, to know that you were safe now. But on the other hand, you were scared to start another chapter of your life, the future looked bright, but you were terrified. You were a bird finally out of the cage that didn't know what to do with its freedom.

But maybe, you thought as you felt Julieta's lips on your temple, maybe there would be someone willing to teach you how to fly little by little.

"The boy seemed strong" she commented casually "I'm sure he can hunt or something...they'll be fine"

You nodded, knowing that she was lying and that she really didn't give a damn what happened to the De La Moras, but that she tried to cheer you up and comfort you even a little bit, it was one of the reasons why you liked her so much.

"...so Isabela..."

Julieta felt your smile grow against the fragile skin of her neck and she couldn't help the slight shiver that ran through her or the blush that she knew graced her cheeks, but she still laughed at your words. One of the biggest surprises for everyone (besides the expulsion itself) was the fact that, of all the Madrigals, it was Isabela, the former golden girl of the town, who had the most anger and desire for revenge. She was ruthless with her vines (not to the point of breaking anything or making too terrible injuries, per your request) and even more with her words. It was she who was in charge of literally throwing them out of Encanto (everyone thought it would be Luisa, but you knew that the sweet girl would never be capable of something like that) and if something was clear at that moment it was: never get into Isabela Madrigal’s bad side.

Well, it actually applied to the whole family, because they all made it clear that they had no problem repeating this event if something happened to any of them or to you and your family. Pepa was especially clear about this, warning everyone that she would not hesitate to take out the lightning bolts if anyone dared to even scratch Eliza, whom she had not let go of since they returned the favor and welcomed you into their house.

“No one will ever hurt you again, Y/N” the brunette muttered seriously “I promise I won't allow it”

You winced a little at the tone she used. It was a silent but effective battle cry, she was willing to pull out tooth and nail for you and it was a new feeling for you. A welcome one that you were quickly becoming addicted to. Actually, it was all of her that little by little you were getting addicted to. With each day you spent with her, it seemed more difficult to hide the butterflies in your stomach and there were more and more frequent moments that felt too intimate between you as if the world was constantly pulling you towards her and your lips were begging for hers. Moments like this. You needed to lighten the mood and soon.

"Just as you promised to bring my daughter back?" you asked mockingly

The brunette laughed softly, appreciating the change because she wasn't sure she could continue caressing you without her hands wanting to roam your body more.

"I tried" she defended herself "but Pepa beat me at that and I decided not to interfere in her fight with Isabela, Camilo, and Mirabel to see who had the 'divine right' tonight"

You laughed and rolled your eyes fondly. The "divine right" was how the family had designated to sleep with Eliza. You didn't know what your daughter had that everyone seemed to want to be with her at all hours (yes, she was sweet and beautiful, but you needed to see your baby too from time to time!), but every night it was a little war to see who would sleep with her. It didn't help that Eli was an especially quiet and calm baby who could easily pass for a mere doll, so even Antonio could sleep with her alone (not that you or his parents would allow it, of course, there was always an adult with them when it was his turn to share a bed with your baby).

Of course, it was you who usually got that right and therefore Julieta, since you shared a room with her (yes, it had been on purpose, she hadn't wanted to let go of you the night of the fire and after that it was just memory, going back to the routine you had when you shared a room with her at home), but once in a while, you just wouldn't see your daughter.

"And that's why out of the triplets, you're the one who would survive an apocalypse" you joked "you have a good survival instinct"

“One of the three had to have it” she laughed

“Still, I will miss Eliza. Nights are when I can spend the most time with her without anyone stealing her” you sighed dramatically “but well…I have you. And you are NOT going to be stolen from me”

Julieta blushed again as you planted a row of kisses along her jaw. She loved spending time with you, but these moments…these moments were both a blessing and a curse. Because she knew that everything you said and did was born from a place where you only had a friendship for her. But they felt much more intimate than that, definitely not something mere friends would do.

"It's good to know I'm a worthy replacement" she said, trying to lighten the mood again.

"And an excellent pillow" you said, separating from her at last and winking at her.

The brunette watched you as you pulled back the covers and settled into bed, following your every move and unconsciously smiling before following you. For reasons of destiny (call it Casita), the Madrigales hadn't been able to find a single mat or cot in the entire house, so you had had to share a bed with her. The original plan was to go buy something you could sleep in as soon as Karim woke up, but seeing as that still hadn't happened, you just got used to sleeping with her. And if you were honest, you didn't want to stop doing it.

Julieta climbed onto the bed, opening her arms to let you rest your head on her chest and wrap you tightly. The first night you shared a bed you had been too shocked to register what happened. The second night, was when you two were filled with embarrassment and poorly concealed nerves.

Eliza slept between you, as a kind of barrier that prevented you from having embarrassing accidents, but when the family started stealing her to sleep too, you and the older woman were left to fend for yourself. At first, you tried to sleep on your own side of the bed, putting as much distance between you as possible and turning your back to each other. But it was useless. No matter how hard you tried, you would always, always end up tangled up in each other (the first time she woke up with your face so close to hers almost gave her a heart attack), so after many awkward moments and a couple of laughs, you decided to simply follow the will of the universe and sleep in each other's arms.

The most terrifying yet hopeful thing for both of you was that somehow it felt natural like you were made for each other's arms and the puzzle the world had made of your lives was finally beginning to make sense.

Julieta shivered a little as your warm fingers grazed her collarbone, tracing the fine chain that never left her neck. She said nothing, letting you find comfort in gently rubbing the chain between your fingers. If you noticed how her skin was getting goosebumps, you didn't say anything.

"Do you think he’ll be alright?" you finally asked

"He will" she promised you

She didn't need you to say any names, she knew perfectly well who you were talking about. As relieved as the brunette had been to see that you had no serious burns or injuries, your brother was another story. It was obvious that the De La Moras knew their victims and they knew they could never do anything against you if they didn't get rid of Karim first. That was why he had been the one who had gotten the worst of it. And since he was unconscious and therefore unable to eat, Julieta had tried (and she was still trying) to heal him as much as she could with traditional methods, but there was little she could do for him. Her gift, as magical as it sounded, had indications for use, and worked best on fresh wounds, so the more days that passed, the more difficult it would be for her to heal your brother.

The burns, while impressive and conspicuous, were the least of her concerns. They could heal with traditional methods and even if they left scars, they would be easy to treat. It was his blow to the head that had her nervous. She hadn't said anything to you for fear of making you more worried, but she knew that the area and the way your brother had been beaten hadn't been random. It was a delicate area that even if she could heal it, it could have repercussions on Karim's neural capacity. It was a blow that had been meant to kill.

"I'm scared" you whispered "I know he's strong but..."

You buried your face in the older woman's neck, seeking warmth and a sense of security that only she could give you. You closed your eyes when you felt her fingers massage your scalp while her other hand traced circles on your back. Julieta was a woman who used her actions more than her words, and when it came to comforting, there was no one who could beat her.

“He will wake up soon” she said “In the meantime, we will continue to take care of him” she promised you

"But when will that be?" you asked "Every day without him is more difficult"

“I know, but we must be patient. This is a two-sided fight, we must wait for him to wake up."

"And if he doesn't?"

“He will” it hurt her to hear your tone so brittle “And when he does, he won't like seeing his sister like this. He knows that you are a strong, brave, and incredible woman who will not let fear dominate her”

Despite it all, you laughed as she kissed your forehead, punctuating every word. Her fingers left your back and began to attack your ribs, making you squirm in her arms.

"Juli, no!" you laughed "enough!"

But she was ruthtless. Despite her cute and soft exterior, Julieta was a strong woman and you couldn't escape from her. The brunette was determined to listen to your laughter for a few more moments, so every time you tried to escape she would pull you back against her chest or chase after you, and in a matter of minutes you were both rolling on the bed, limbs and hands tangled together, laughter melting into one.

“Julieta!! I can't breathe!!” you laughed "please"

“I will leave you in peace only if you give me a smile before going to sleep”

“I will give you my entire being” you promised between laughs

The older woman finally took pity on you and stopped her vicious attack, letting you catch your breath. She smiled as she watched you gasp for air as small giggles still escaped you, your hair a beautiful mess on the pillow, and your chest rising and falling unevenly. You were beautiful.

You opened your eyes to see Julieta's face inches from yours, her huge chocolate eyes scanning you. Her round cheeks were tinted a beautiful faded red and her lips had that secret smile that you liked so much. She was above you, her legs on either side of your hips and her pepper hair falling like curtains at your sides.

Despite the intimacy of the position, neither felt like you were crossing a line, but seemed to be right where you needed to be. You intertwined your hand with hers and with the other, you caressed her cheek gently.

"You know you're beautiful, right?" you whispered before you realized what you had said

Julieta blushed even more and laughed nervously. However, she didn't pull away and just squeezed your hand a bit.

"Not as much as you" she told you "Especially when you smile"

“Juli-”

“I'm serious, Y/N” she cut you off “I love your smile, so please don't steal it from me”

You blushed and looked momentarily to the side. Ever since you met her, you had always felt drawn to her, as if an invisible force was pulling you to her side. The months of being her friend just made you develop an even greater fondness for her and you were deeply grateful to have her in your life. You had interpreted the heat and nerves she made you feel as merely platonic.

But just now, at that moment, as she looked down on you, you felt the universe applauding because you were finally opening your eyes, you had finally realized it. All the hugs, the way she held your hand, the way your cheeks blushed when she brushed against you, the kisses on the cheeks. Everything came back to your mind.

Your only previous relationship had been Daniel and you couldn't really call it love, which was why it had taken you so long to realize what the whole universe had been screaming at you for so long: you loved her. You were in love with Julieta Madrigal.

Julieta was surprised when you suddenly propelled yourself up, taking her by surprise so you could change positions. She felt her pulse race and her heart try to explode out of her chest as she felt your legs on either side of her hips and your warm breath on her face as you leaned closer to her. She had to remind herself that this was not the time to have impure thoughts about you.

You stared into her eyes, searching for…something, anything that would tell you that she might feel the same way about you. But your mind was divided by so many emotions: the fear that Karim hadn't woken up yet, the worry of how you would support Eliza now, your feelings for Julieta, too surprising, intense and sudden. You were not in your best mind. That's why you didn't see the longing, the way she begged you to end this uncertainty and kiss her once and for all.

So you turned your face to her neck and let your nose inhale her scent, sweet and warm and heady of her. Your stomach twisted with heat as you found comfort in her like always.

"I need you, Juli" you admitted in a low voice, the only confession you could make at that moment "Please don't leave me alone" you begged.

Julieta was surprised and her mind, clouded by the desire and need to kiss you, woke up with a jolt. She berated herself for thinking of this as something intimate and romantic when you just needed her to be there for you. She quickly wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you towards her, making you lean your full weight on her. Just like Eliza, you buried your face in her neck immediately. Like mother, like daughter.

“Never think that I would leave you” she promised you “I will always be here for you, I am yours for the rest of my life”

She felt you smile against her skin and your hand found the chain at her neck again.

"Then I'm yours too, Miss Madrigal" you whispered.

___________________________

Julieta looked at you, stroking your hair. You had fallen asleep a couple of hours ago, pressed firmly against her chest, but she hadn't been able to fall asleep. Her mind repeated your words over and over again and for a moment she thought you could be woken up by the strong beating of her heart.

She was terrified. Every day she spent with you she fell more in love with you, but it was painfully obvious that you would never see her as more than a friend. And she couldn't blame you, how could she think she would have a chance? What could you want from a woman her age? She should be thankful that you managed to break the age barrier to have a nice friendship. She shouldn't be greedy.

But she couldn't help it. When you told her that you needed her, she had wanted to tell you that she needed you too, that she needed to have you by her side, to feel your skin under her hands, to feel your lips on hers. She needed you to love her like she loved you.

“Oh Y/N” she whispered, caressing your cheek “you don't know how important you are to me”

She let her other hand slide a little further down your back, caressing the smooth warm skin that got exposed when your nightgown was pulled up a little. Your smooth, firm legs were entangled with hers. The hand that caressed your cheek inched down to your chin and her thumb caressed your lower lip for a moment.

"You don't know what it feels like to lose, you don't know what it feels like to fall and fall into a deep abyss without faith" she murmured.

Her hand moved up again, this time under the fabric of your pajamas, letting her fingers brush your warm skin. She traced circles on your bare back under her touch and felt the butterflies in her stomach quicken.

“You took my life and here I am like a rock that the ocean hits. You don't know that you have remained nailed to my skin”

The hand that cupped your chin gently pushed your head up so she could see you better. You looked so beautiful, relaxed and peaceful. You also looked incredibly fragile, small, young.

“You don’t know what love is and the fear that desolation causes. You don't know how you control this heart that now only beats with the sound of your voice "

Julieta couldn't help it. She lowered her face to yours and though she would never kiss you without your consent, she let her lips brush yours lightly, like a feather, savoring the moment. If this was the closest she would get to kissing you, she would be sure to save the feel of your lips under hers in her memory.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Julieta tag: @emril-osvigne @smolgayhooman @arination99 @kitthedino

[honestlyfragile]

JUMPSTREET - Mark Lee x Johnny Suh

Pairing: Mark Lee x Fem!Reader, Johnny is Mark’s bestfriend, Mentions of Jaehyun and Yuta

Genre: university!au, police!au, a dash of fluff, smut,crack, fraternity!au

warnings: mild violence, mentions of guns, drugs, sexual themes, language

Summary: Mark and Johnny were partners in crime, but when feelings get in the way, will Mark stick to the law or go against it?

Wc: 15.4k

also posted in Ao3

a/n: I hope you enjoy this story heavily inspired by the 21 & 22 Jumpstreet movie franchise, and hopefully I was able to deliver it with my own ideas. Enjoy!

Mark and Johnny start their first official day as policemen after being together in most of their high school years and studying criminology in college. They could not be more excited to see people make trouble until today.

"Let's see who's going to be able to make his first arrest." Johnny bets, scanning around the area with a cup of coffee in his hand, the other on his waist.

"Dude it's a park, what the fuck could possibly happen here?" Mark retorts, unamused.

"Oh you know, it's a crazy world we live in these days." Johnny defends, his gaze fixed on his surroundings.

"Sure it is." Mark continues to read his newspaper as he stands side by side with Johnny.

The two try to at least roam around and patrol over the area, looking for at least an ounce of any violation, it didn't matter if it was serious or not.

Mark spots a kid of about 9 years old near the pond, about to drop a piece of bread into the water.

"Excuse me kid," Mark bluffs, as if it were his first catch of the day. Technically this is his first catch of his career, hopefully.

"What?" the child frowns and looks at him obnoxiously.

"Read the sign," Mark points to it and the kid's eyes follow, but disobeys him anyway. 

"It says don't feed the ducks!" Mark argues, but the kid is unbothered.

"Let it go Mark, it's not like bread will kill them. Plus, you can't arrest a child." Johnny scoffs and tries to drag Mark to another area.

Mark lets out a sigh as the kid sticks his tongue out and he does the same before turning his back.

The two had nothing better to do, they were rookies who just got newly assigned to an area that didn't even have any trouble. Almost like they were just there for the sake of. Of course the department treated them as rookies.

Johnny takes out his pistol out of boredom and tosses it for fun. "Woah you know those are loaded right?" Mark warns him while involuntarily taking a step back.

"Yeah and?" Johnny continues to toss and play with it.

"Unload it first!" Mark panics like the goody two shoes that he was.

"Then that would be no fun." Johnny shrugs.

Mark spots a group of middle aged men from afar, but not quite. He squints and tries to take a closer look with his binoculars.

"Yo check it out, aren't those the Outlaws?" He nudges Johnny's shoulder as he takes a look himself.

The Outlaws are a known motorcycle gang in the county, they aren't always bothersome but the both of them are determined to find a loophole.

The two approach the group of men and tell them off because they have parked their motorcycles illegally. But that's not the only thing they notice, these men were stoned. One lights up a joint of Marijuana shamelessly, and Johnny loses his temper. "Excuse me Sir, you do know that the use of Marijuana is illegal right?"

"Oh look," the hideous man spits on the ground. "They must be new. He has the guts to talk to us like that. Nice to see some fresh kids here. You sure you aren't dressing up for... halloween?" The man specifically has his eyes on Mark when he said the last sentence.

Feeling offended, Mark straightens up his stance and acts more like a grown man. "That's a nice joke sir, now hand it over." He says in a stern voice.

"What a scary fella, keep up the good work! Sorry I don't have candy with me." They tease and the two have had enough.

"I'm going to have to search your motorcycle now sir." Johnny insists and doesn't wait for a response, and opens the seat and finds packets of a fine white substance. "These are.." he halts.

"DRUGS!" Mark shouts and immediately gets pushed by one of the gang members.

Johnny immediately gets a sample and keeps it in his pocket and takes his gun out. Mark gets up and does the same. The men try to run away and escape, Johnny runs after them and Mark takes his bike. The two finally get to corner them and Johnny pits one of them on the ground.

"You have the right to," Johnny tries to utter the Miranda Rights as he puts handcuffs on the man that is trying to eagerly resist him. "To shut the fuck up!" Johnny was being too focused on trying to handcuff the suspect and forgets to recite the rest,

Reciting those did not even cross Mark's mind as he just also focused on trying to handcuff the man.

"You are coming with us!" He yells and drags them to the police station, which was only a few meters away from them now.

--------

As the case was investigated, their chief commends them but then discovers that they forgot to recite the Miranda Rights, which can possibly make the charges be dropped, but thankfully the violation to the law was enough for the men to remain in jail.

"Technically you still did this wrong," the chief puts a hand on his chin and taps the polished wooden table. "But since you're just starting out, i'll give you another offer."

The two young men eye each other, anticipating the chief's suggestion. "An offer?" Johnny asks, straightening up in his seat.

"Jump street." The chief says.

"Wha- what's that?" Mark furrows his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Since the both of you look younger than the rest of the people here, our undercover police unit is in need of officers." The chief informs.

"Please, continue." Johnny lets him explain further.

"You pretend to be college students. It's practically the same, but it would be more suitable for the both of you because it's your crowd. You see crime and injustice, you report. But, you will be disguised as college students to ease the procedures of trying to find what those students have been up to. We have your back." The chief explains.

"Cool." Mark simply says because he is astonished by the idea.

"So where do we report? Do we have a new head quarters?" Johnny asks. 

"You will be transferred. Down in 21 Jump St." The deputy Chief declares.

____

They head to the headquarters that was disguised as an old chapel. "You sure this is the one?" Mark questions as he gets out of the car.

"It does say 21 Jump St. so, let's have a look." Johnny turns off the engine and both of them enter.

The setting was a typical chapel, but it was dark and full of stock equipment. Mark takes a look at the altar that was dimly lit, and bows before the image of Christ to show respect . Johnny on the other hand was not a person of religion but follows Mark's simple gesture anyways.

"The both of you!" A man shouts from afar, and it echoes, "come over here." 

The two are startled but proceed to the hidden room. When they enter they see two women who are already disguised as cheerleaders. Meanwhile the two are still in their police uniforms. The ladies take a look and have a good laugh at them. "You do know that you're supposed to go undercover right?" She says, eyeing them from head to toe. 

"W-we didn't get the memo that it was gonna be today.." Mark trails off and fidgets with his hands.

"Go and dress like teenagers! Now!" The chief commands and the two quickly change right away. 

When they get back they are briefed by the set of rules they have to follow and about the goals of this undercover project.

"Rule number 1. DO NOT get expelled. No one in the system knows that you are undercover. So be disciplined and don't cause major trouble. Getting expelled would mean that you'll get your asses kicked out of jump street." The chief sternly explains, making the assigned officers hold their breath from fear.

"Rule number 2," the officer walks past the rest and stands in front of Johnny. "DO NOT have any sexual or intimate relationships with the students and professors. You hear that pretty boy?" And specifically locks his eyes on Johnny, making the boy gulp and purse his lips. After the general meeting, the two were called for a detailed one, personally with the chief.

It was said to them that they had to find a synthetic drug that has been spreading around the campus called NCT. A sample of its packaging was shown, it was definitely something you wouldn't think of as a drug. It was about a size of a large coin, and looks like a small biscuit. It was sealed using assorted hand drawn stickers of different objects. They were also advised to never give out their real names, because new identities have been assigned to them. Johnny's being Rolan Kim and Mark's being Kalen Park.

"When the youngsters take this drug, it apparently makes them laser-focused on studying for about an hour. And for the succeeding hours, they party like it's fucking 1999 until they pass out. Infiltrate the dealer, find the supplier." The chief gives his final orders and sends off the both of them for their mission.

-----

"Dang, we're really going back to college?" Mark says as he finished up packing his things for the dorm that the agency assigned to them. They had to be as realistic as possible.

The two head to the university, reminiscing their own college days. The two might perhaps over-do this whole "blending in" thing, which might give out the disguise.

"Woah their campus is HUGE." Mark says, mesmerized and wears both straps of his backpack.

"Bro, that's not very college of you." Johnny fumbles with the strap of Mark's backpack.

"What?"

"You're two strapping dude. You have to just sling one of them on your shoulder, so it's cool and grown up. You're in college, not middle school." Johnny fixes Mark's bag for him.

"Right. College." He utters to himself. He seems to be enjoying it too much, and starts saying hi to everyone he sees.

"Knock it off, Mark. You're giving us away." Johnny nudges his arm and tries to cooly stride along the campus, keeping his composure.

Mark acknowledges him and goes with the flow. The two arrive in their dorm that they gladly share only among themselves. Mark is new to this, because when he went to college he stayed with his parents. Thankfully he could trust Johnny to always have his back.

The two set their things down and pick their beds, it didn't really matter much since the room had two singles and separate desks for the both of them. It also had a small book shelf that could come in handy, if they ever plan to take lectures seriously.

"Let's just fix these later. We have to go to the Dean's office to confirm our enrollment. Act natural okay?" Johnny lazily brushes his hair back and straightens up his shirt in front of the small mirror that the vanity had.

"Oh- uh okay." Mark leaves the pile of his clothes undone on top of his bed and grabs his phone and keys.

It was the afternoon of fall, the campus has been covered with different hues of orange leaves and subtle sunlight. The breeze was cool but not strong as it blew against their hair. The university seemed peaceful, but they had no idea what went on once the sun sets and the lights are off.

After a couple minutes of walking, the two arrive at the Dean's office for their interview. 

"Good afternoon gentlemen, please take a seat." The middle aged man smiles at the both of them. 

The two are slightly nervous, but eventually get over it. "Nice to meet you, Mr..." Johnny reads the name plate on the desk "Mr. Bennet." and gives the man his signature smile. Mark does the same and they start their interview. 

"Okay, so which one is Rolan and which one is Kalen?" Mr. Bennet asks and there was a short period of silence. Two had seemed to forget which identities were theirs. 

Johnny raises his hand, "I'm Rolan sir. Rolan Kim." and he nudges Mark's shoulder. 

"Ah yes and I'm Kalen... Park" he barely manages to blurt it out. 

The dean furrows his eyebrows but lets it go and proceeds. "So the two of you are?" He asks. They were not prepared for that question. 

"Brothers."

"Family friends." the two say at the same time. They give each other a funny look, and Mark gladly saves them from the mishap. "Well we do really treat each other as brothers sir, we grew up together pretty much." and clears his throat. A close call. 

"That's good to hear. So Rolan is going to be trying out for the football team and Kalen will try out for the Music club. Those two are very different from each other, but don't worry the opportunities in this school are endless. You can always transfer if you feel that you aren't happy with what you chose." The dean explains and the two acknowledge. 

Mr. Bennet goes a little further with the interview and gives them their schedules for the semester then eventually dismisses the two, wishing them well.

"Dude how can you forget the identity that was assigned to you!" Johnny quietly scolds Mark for his slip away. 

"I'm sorry okay it's a little confusing!" Mark scratches the back of his head and looks at the floor. 

"Ayt, I'll see you later. I have Chemistry in 15 minutes. I can still catch up. What about you?" Johnny asks, putting his hand on his pockets and the other on Mark's shoulder.

"Well, I don't really have any classes for the day anymore. I guess i'll head back to the dorm so I can start unpacking already. I'll see you then. Let me know if you find any leads." Mark gives him a small salute and heads back to the dorms.

-----

Johnny arrives in the lecture hall and receives strange looks. He tenses up a little but nonetheless shrugs it off and takes a seat next to a boy who looks like a whole generation younger than him. 

"Yo, you look really old. Were you held back?" The boy asks in a nosy manner, unintentionally pushing Johnny's buttons.

Johnny clenches his jaw and keeps his composure. "No I don't... You look young. Super young. Were you held forward?" he tries to redeem himself. 

"No? Whatever. I'm Haechan by the way." The boy introduces himself. 

"Im Joh- Rolan." Johnny almost slips but the latter doesn't notice. 

The professor immediately hands a quiz, which Johnny has no idea of because he arrived at an odd time of the semester. He guessed all the questions with all his might. But to be quite honest he also wasn't the best in chemistry when he still went to school. 

He turns his paper in and walks towards the exit but gets stopped by Haechan. "Uh do you need help with the topic? You seem to be clueless about it." Which came off as a little rude, but that wasn't his intention at all. 

"No." Johnny insists because it hurts his pride. "I know everything." He stiffens up.

"Yeah? Do you know what a covalent bond is then?" The boy cheekily asks. 

Johnny bluffs, because he doesn't. Or to put it in a better light, he forgot. "Fuck man, I don't have to tell you what it is."

"Woah, I wasn't trying to be rude. But anyway if you need help you can just ask me. See ya." Then Haechan was off and got lost in the sea of people. 

Apparently, it was Johnny's last class for the day because it was already almost evening. He texts Mark to inform him that he's heading back to the dorm as well. He doesn't let his guard down and continues to observe the students if they're up to anything suspicious.

As he walked to the dorm, he saw a bunch of boys that were about as tall as he was but more athletic gather around the corner of the football field. He acts nonchalant but keeps an eye on what they are up to. He tries to move closer to the scene without getting caught and acts like he's only passing by. 

"Yo hook me up with some more of those, I can't fail my classes or else i'll get kicked out of the team." One says to the other. 

Johnny immediately pulls his phone out to text Mark about what he just heard and hurries back. 

-------

"Dude, as expected the football team has it. I'm trying out tomorrow and I'll surely get with them." Johnny discusses with Mark.

"Yeah? Can I come watch your tryouts? So I can see what they look like." Mark requests. 

"Sure. 2pm at the field." Johnny informs him.

The two were mostly busy arranging their stuff in the room until they heard a knock on the door. Mark offers to get it. 

"Hey new neighbors!" two men appear with big smiles. 

"Oh hey, uh... thanks?" Mark blankly answers as he was usually awkward meeting with new people.

Johnny comes and checks to see who it was, and to his surprise, it was Haechan and his roommate. 

"Oh hey Haechan, and hey..." Johnny looks at the unfamiliar guy. 

"Renjun." He smiles.

"Right Renjun." Johnny nods. "Oh by the way Kalen, I go to the same biology class as Haechan." Johnny calls Mark by his fake name.

"Oh cool, what about you Renjun, what's your major?" Mark asks. 

"Classical music!" Renjun enthusiastically says. 

"Oh I'm in Music Prod! I'll probably see you around during org meetings." Mark smiles.

Their neighbors introduce tips for them that could be useful during their stay and seem to be genuinely nice people. But Mark and Johnny cannot trust anyone, so they keep their guards up and try their best to not give anything away. 

Although it may have seemed like an easy task for them, it wasn't. The drug was all over the school, it was going to be difficult to find the root of it if they ignored even the smallest details that could lead them to find out the supplier. 

---

The following day, the two wake up early ready to officially start the day. Mark and Johnny head to their own classes, hoping that they find out something about the case today. 

Mark enters the lecture hall for his Philosophy class. It was almost 80 percent full as it was a basic class for almost everyone. He awkwardly looks around, hoping to find a seat that wasn't as far because of his bad eyesight. 

"Psst." You try to catch his attention. When he looks over, you tap the vacant seat next to you, "you can sit here." You offer. 

"T-thanks." He says and gives you a smile. 

"You seem like a new face. I'm Y/N" You say to him because you have observed the people in this class every day. 

"I'm Kalen. Kalen Park." he scratches the back of his head. "I uh, just got enrolled yesterday. You know, when your family moves into another town... yeah" he trails off with his made-up excuse. 

"Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it." You genuinely assure him, "It's college. You can take your time." You chuckle because he was so awkward, but seemed very kind. 

"Definitely." He bites his lip, unsure if he should keep talking or not. But the professor arrives just on time. 

He observes his surroundings and keeps an eye on suspicious students that might have a link to what they were looking for. He whispers to the guy in front of him who was just playing games on his laptop and wasn't listening in class. "Hey, do you know where I can get myself some NCT?" 

The guy raises his brows in doubt, "are you a narc?" and might have said it way too loudly. 

Mark tries to brush it off with a stiff laugh "What are you talking about man? I'm not I swear." and refuses to make eye contact. 

The airhead lets it go and slips mark a cellphone number that could possibly be a step closer to what they were looking for. "Just text them "looking for a hookup" and they'll know what you're talking about." 

"Thanks, man." He gives him a small pat on the back just to show that he wasn't up to anything, which actually just makes him more suspicious. Thankfully, the guy didn't really care. 

Mark was delighted to have found a lead easily, and immediately texts Johnny about it. After that, he actually paid attention to the class, just because it genuinely fascinated him. 

When it ended he immediately gathered his stuff and put on his backpack, ready to meet Johnny. 

"Psst, two strapper!" You call out and try to barely tap his shoulder. 

He looks back and immediately drops one strap of his backpack off his shoulders, he definitely forgot about what Johnny has advised him. He scratches the back of his head with his hands on his pocket, "yeah?" 

"You free this evening?" You casually ask. 

He nervously gulps because he really has to be somewhere right now, but he didn't want to be rude. "Uhm, I guess? I don't know yet. Why?" 

"We're having a poetry slam at the art hall, you might be interested. I saw some good stuff you wrote in your notebook" you smile, hoping that it doesn't freak him out that you saw one of his works. 

His eyes widened, "oh, okay cool I guess I can try. But I have somewhere to be right now, I'll see you..around." And he awkwardly walks off. 

You furrow your brows because of his strange mannerisms, but he seemed like no trouble at all. In fact, it was kind of cute, how awkward he was. 

------ 

It was time for Johnny's football tryouts. Given that he was already good at it during the time that he was actually in college.

Johnny was naturally a sociable person, he blended well with crowds and easily made friends. That's why this was the perfect place for him to be in. He sits himself at the bench while he wears the spare uniforms from the team and is greeted by a dude that was a little shorter than he was, "Goodluck" the boy with ash purple hair says. 

"Thanks!" he enthusiastically replies. 

"Captain! We need you for a sec." the coach calls, then the boy who has wished him luck gets up and reports to the coach. Well, he did give off an impression of one. He was highly presentable, his smile was hospitable, his form was great and his attitude was pleasant. Everything else—was just the ideal makings of a captain. 

The tryouts start and Johnny looks around for Mark, who had just arrived and casually sat himself on the bleachers, waving at Johnny from afar. As the tryouts went on and finished, the coach praised everyone who attended for a job well done and announced the new members who had qualified. All of which included Johnny of course. 

"Hey man, great job out there." The captain is back on Johnny's side to praise him. 

"Yeah, thanks. I'm Rolan by the way." He introduces himself.

"Of course I know, I was the one who picked you from the list." He laughs, "Jaehyun. Jeong Jaehyun." 

-----

"Hey!" Mark hears a familiar voice faintly calling his name. He searches for it but takes him awhile because of how wide the campus is. "Over here two stapper," you chuckle and he finally sees. 

"Oh hey," he muttered quite embarrassed at how awkward he was. 

He takes a seat next to you at the bench near the hall of the poetry slam event, he wanted to go together. "Chilly night huh? I should've brought my sweater.." You trail off, rubbing your arms for warmth. 

You didn't mean for it to come off that way, but Mark willingly takes off his jacket and offers it to you. "Oh it's alright really-" you insist.

"No it's fine, I'm from Canada, this is nothing." He laughs. 

You nod your head with his remark, and proceed to wear his jacket. It was quite big on you, but it was definitely cozy. "Shall we go?" You ask, standing up.

He nods and lets you lead him to the hall. The campus was only lit by lamp posts at this hour, but there were many sculptures in the school of arts that he had wished to see better. Well, there was always next time. 

The both of you enter the hall which was quite filled with students already. It had been set up like a cafe, with a small platform in front that was lit with a spotlight. 

"Give it up for Naya Kim everybody!" the emcee announces, encouraging everyone to give the person a round of applause after presenting a spoken word. "Do we have another volunteer?' 

The crowd falls silent as everyone looks around, mindlessly making eye contact with each other, waiting on who was going next. 

"Anyone?" The emcee taps the mic. 

"I have one!" You yell, and Mark looks at you with wide eyes. 

"Dude no-" he resists, trying to shrink himself into his chair. 

"C'mon it'll be fun!" You nudge his shoulder, "We have Kalen over here!" You grab his wrist and raise his arm for him, even if he was resisting it, he had no choice. 

The emcee squints and eyes the both of you and acknowledges you volunteering your new friend. "Alright we have Kalen next! Stage is yours." The emcee steps off. 

He had all eyes on him now, eyes hungry of anticipation and to witness raw talent amongst themselves. 

"G-good evening everyone." he greets, holding onto the mic tightly and takes a deep breath. His expression changes into a serious one. 

Will it ever come? 

The nights know me well. 

I was a frequent by-passer but now I am no stranger. 

A boy who grew up with sharks does not need to be taught how to swim.

Good night,

These words feel like the vast sky

Darkness, but not hollow.

Black but not bitter. 

After he recites his poem he becomes flustered again from the faint applause he had received from the audience that was present, he puts the mic back to its stand and does a small bow. 

"Not bad, tiger" You pat him on the back. There was more to him than what meets the eye, you just knew. 

"You think so?" He says with hopeful eyes. 

"Yeah!" You assure him. 

The rest of the evening passes by with the both of you having a splendid time watching others unleash their passion and talent for reciting spoken word and poetry. Some were tear jerking and some were downright hilarious. So this is college. Mark thinks to himself.

In the past he had always been a loner who didn't go to many parties because of his strict and conservative parents. 

 He was way beyond his borders now. But he couldn't get carried away. No, this isn't a time for him to redeem himself from his early years, this was time for him to perform his duties. So he snaps out of his little daydream. 

As the both of you were seated at the bench in front of the hall where he found you, he had asked you about your major. 

"Fine arts." you laugh bitterly.

"What's wrong? You don't seem like you're happy with it…" He trails off, swinging his feet that was hanging off the bench. 

You shake your head no, "I am. It's just that my parents don't really know I took this course. I told them I got a scholarship and they were just relieved that they didn't have to pay anymore. Otherwise they'd force me into some business course or something "more practical"" you emphasize with air quotes. 

"I see. Okay so fine arts huh?" He tries to lighten the mood. "What can you say about that one over there?" Mark points to the sculpture to your left, about 20 metres away. 

"They're like two beings, leaning on each other" you pause, dramatically for impact, "They support each other so one doesn't fall." you interpret. 

He seems impressed, then asks "Support huh? How about you? Do you have anyone—who supports you?" 

"Hm, not really, no. I like to be alone and just spend time with myself." Your eyes wander but all you could think about is how he's looking at you with such attentiveness and interest.

He chuckles, "I feel you. You know I'm an expert at being alone. Don't you just love it when you're in a room full of people but no one gives a shit about your presence?" He claps his hands together just once then purses his lips into a bitter lopsided smile. "Yep. Had a lot of those." He masks his personal statement with humor.

"Well," You say, kicking the shortly-trimmed grass on the building's lawn. "If you don't wanna be alone, you walk me to my dorm" you offer.

He looks around and takes no time to think about it, feeling that it was unsafe for you to go alone. "Sure." He smiles.

The walk to your dorm was silent but comfortable. You weren't sure if he was quite a talker or just shy. But one thing you couldn't get out of your head was how unconventionally attractive he was. You've never gotten a vibe like his before and you've been in this university for 2 years already. You wanted to get something out of him even if it takes you to be the bold one here. 

"We're here," You whisper, looking at him seductively. Like you were a puppy begging to not be left alone. "Do you wanna come in? My roommate left for the weekend" you smirk. 

Mark gulps. He had been resisting this kind of tension he had with you ever since he met you. But you made it so hard. "Come on," you say, putting your hand at the back of his neck while tracing mindless patterns on it with your finger. 

"My brother he might be-" 

"Oh you have a brother? Is he hot?" You joke. 

His eyes are wide with stitched eyebrows. But eventually catches on. "Nah." and he pulls you closer to him by the waist. His eyes now staring at you deeply, so hungrily like he was that tiger you called him as earlier. Come and get it.

Without any words said, he had finally crashed his lips onto yours. And you kissed him hard. Like you wanted to have him to all yourself at that very moment. Your tongue grazes his lower lip, begging for entrance which he had granted. Your tongues meshed together at a quick pace, with the heat of your core starting to throb. 

You push yourself closer to him and you start to feel his prominence and unconsciously grind on his jeans, making him grunt. You break the kiss for a quick moment, his eyes are glazed and his mouth agape, out of breath. You turn around and enter the code to your dorm and pull him inside. 

For a brief moment that your bodies were detached, Mark couldn't stop wanting more. Not even thinking the slightest of the consequences of this act that will dawn upon him if it ever gets out. 

You were back to slamming your body with his as you took off his jacket, making it fall to the floor. His hands snake underneath your shirt and started roaming around your body while he peppered kisses on your neck. With a swift flick of his fingers he had unclasped your bra and his hands groped your breasts, you threw your head back as he buried his face in your clothed cleavage. Like he was begging for this bothersome piece of clothing to be gone. 

You grant his invisible wish and quickly lift your shirt off, while your bra falls off your arms naturally, his mouth watering at the sight. You trace his abs underneath his shirt, your core getting wetter with how toned they were based on your touch.

And you didn’t doubt the results one bit. When you lift his shirt, his torso was delicately lean, toned in all the right places that your mouth could water at the sight of it. You bite your lip and roll your eyes at the sensation of him sucking your tits, his grip on you intense but gentle. 

“I don’t have condoms right now, so this is going to be all about you.” He whispers seductively, feeling your wetness through your soaked panties. You softly moan at the sensation and hungrily kiss him again, not having any moment to waste. 

When he slides two fingers to massage your folds, you whimper. "Fuck," you breathe. 

"God, that's hot." He says with a hitched breath. You couldn't possibly get any more turned on right now. 

When he slips his digits in your cunt—you go fucking insane. You haven't felt this good in quite a while, it made you ecstatic to remember how fucking good this feeling was, you hoped that this wouldn't be the last. Mark was different.

He picks up his pace, and you try to keep your composure, but the forced arch of your back says otherwise. You grab a pillow to cover your face, scared that you would be too loud and get caught, or else this would be the last time for the both of you. 

“My fucking God.” You whimper, pulling Mark’s head on your chest, holding onto him for dear life because you just entirely lost control of it all. He finishes you off like his life depended on it, licking your wetness from his fingers, savouring it, then wipes his fingers on his jeans.

“You were so good to me, yeah?” He chuckles when you are left speechless.

“What about you?” You ask, looking at his crotch that was painfully hard. 

“It’s- It’s alright. You don’t have to” He says, and it makes your heart thaw like ice. You didn’t deserve him. 

“But I want to.” You plead, you couldn’t possibly resist him. “Come here,” You say, rubbing your palm against his jeans.

You didn’t waste anymore time and unzipped his pants, lowering it with his boxers just enough t make his cock lightly hit his stomach. His size is definitely more than what you expected.  You take his wet, glistening cock in your hands and pump it gently, smirking in satisfaction when you hear him hiss and moan softly. 

“Can you keep it down for me, tiger? We might not be able to do this again,” You coo, and he obediently nods, grazing your lower lip with his tongue, asking for entrance which you gladly grant but not for long. 

You smile as you lowered your head down to his throbbing member, licking the precum that had escaped the tip. Mark bites his lip, trying to keep as quiet as possible. You slowly put his dick in your mouth, testing a few times how far you could go. He bucks his hips by accident, making you gag very slightly. “I’m so sorry,” He strokes your hair away from your face. You keep going until you reach the brim, a throaty moan escapes his lips when he couldn’t take it anymore. 

You bob your head up and down in a consistent pace while he holds your hair, “You’re such a good girl” He says, throwing his head back. You keep going until you feel tears slowly coming out of your eyes and tried to hollow your cheeks as much as possible, he was so close. 

“You don’t have to swallow,” he says, pulling back from you. Nonsense. You were more than willing to. 

“I want to.” You say, putting his cock back in your mouth. 

With a few last pumps, his member twitches in your mouth and you feel his warm release and take it all in. You wipe the sides of your mouth as you finish, giving him a sweet smile. 

After the both of you pass out on your bed, Mark has lost track of time and receives a text from Johnny. 

"Dude where the fuck are you? Do you know what time it is?" 

Mark jolts up and checks the time, 2:45am. Shit, he was screwed. He quickly gathers his clothes that had been thrown around your room and dresses himself in panic. 

"I'm sorry, uh Joh- Rolan, my brother has been waiting for me at our dorm, I lost track of time and i think he'll beat my dick off," He nervously chuckles, almost forgetting to use his fake identity again. He has got to get used to it.

"Not if i did it first" You both burst out laughing. "Alright, I'll see you in class." You say, snuggling yourself in your blanket and shutting your eyes. 

He leaves your dorm quietly and runs a hand through his hair before giving Johnny a call. 

"Dude listen-"

"Are you fucking around Mark?" Johnny answers, clearly enraged. 

Mark was scared as shit but never misses the chance to fuck around Johnny. "I might've." 

"Get your ass back here, Lee" 

"Ayt." 

He slips his phone back to his pocket and starts walking briskly to their dorm. Damn this campus was mad creepy that it actually brought chills to his body. He wondered why he felt so cold then realized he left his jacket at your place. It was too late for him to get it back so he settled by running to warm his body up. 

Finally, he was back at the dorm. He hesitates to turn the doorknob because he knows he will be dead meat or nagged to death by Johnny. Or not. 

"Where you been huh?" Johnny examines him, standing up from his bed. He sniffs Mark and the latter flinches. "You smell like sex!" He slaps his shoulder. 

"You crazy? Some expert or something" Mark brushes him off. Wincing at the sting Johnny's palm gave to the skin of his shoulder.

"I should know, Mark." His mood was lighter now. "But who did you fu- i mean have sex with? we just got here wildcat"

"A girl I met in class like uh… awhile ago" The younger bites his lip trying to keep a smile from escaping his lips. He shouldn't be feeling this giddy over a rule that he broke for you. 

Johnny could not believe what he was hearing right now, "Dang. Cheeky boy." He laughs, actually feeling happy for Mark. He can have a little fun, Johnny had his back when it came to these things.

The elder changes the topic and lets this slide. Johnny talks about the leads he gathered from hanging out with the football team. Which were still very much confusing since this substance is all over the campus. Meanwhile, Mark didn't have much besides that number he gave Johnny. Considering he was with the "decent" crowd of people today.

---

The two head to their quarters to report to their chief the next day, trying to ask for help on how they could improve this investigation. 

The chief dumps a folder on the table and says, "This is what the deputy gave us recently. Take a look." He opens the folder into a specific case file to discuss with the two. 

"Who's this?" Mark points at the picture of a girl, who seemed like they were around the same age as the people at University. 

"Lee Minjung." the chief rubs his hands together. "Took some NCT and got locked out of her dorm, so she ended up falling off the roof and dying." The two are shocked by this revelation, it was more serious than they thought. 

The chief flips a page, "Here's a picture of her buying the drug." The photograph had two people in it, one that had a visible face which was Minjung, and one guy who's back was facing the camera. He wore a hat so they couldn't really tell who it was. But one thing they could point out is the reflection on the window of the car beside them.

"Dude, look at this," Mark points out his observation to Johnny. "He has a tattoo, we could start with this." 

"Bingo. There's your lead." The chief closes the folder and puts it back in his file. "The next time you get back here your asses better be presenting me some actual progress. Understand?" 

"Yes sir." 

----

Johnny and Mark head to the resident tattoo artist that was near the university, apparently they do most of the tattoos of the students there. 

"Excuse me," They knocked on the table of the artist who was currently at the back of the shop.

The tattoo artist arrives out front and asks how they could help the two. 

"We're looking for this tattoo, is it familiar to you?" Johnny asks while showing the artists the photograph.

The artist tries to think hard, but gives a hasty answer. "I'm not sure, there's too many of them who got that." 

Mark pushes the subject, "Them? Do you think it's some kind of group tattoo?" 

"I guess so. They were boys, all of them. Very masculine, had the body of an athlete if I were to put it at that." The artist states. 

Mark and Johnny look at each other as if there were light bulbs above their heads. "Thank you!" Mark says and they run off the shop. 

The possibility of this being in the football team was huge. They were athletes, and under a lot of pressure. They had reasons to use this drug but it wasn't an excuse for them not to eliminate this. They had to get to the bottom of this before it ends up like Minjung's case again. 

---

Johnny was at football practice while Mark stood by the bleachers, watching the team and trying to look out as usual until Johnny calls him over to come down for a bit. 

"Jaehyun, this is Kalen, my brother." He introduces him. With his assigned name. 

Jaehyun chortles in disbelief when he sees Mark. "You have a brother?" He asks and Johnny nods. 

"Sup," Mark tries to give him a bro hug, but Jaehyun shakes his hand instead. 

Jaehyun pays no mind to Mark's presence and diverts his attention back to Johnny and proceeds to talk about their game plan.

When practice ends he tells Johnny that the football team plans to host a party tonight. It would be the perfect opportunity for them to keep an eye on everyone. 

"Can I come?" Mark asks.

Jaehyun eyes him from the side, "Yeah uh sure" and only bids goodbye to Johnny. "See ya bro." 

Mark could already feel that he didn't belong in this crowd, but he and Johnny had to stick together and investigate. 

The night of the party came and the two brothers were stoked. "Our first frat party." Mark thought. 

"Your first frat party." Johnny spat playfully, trying to meticulously style and wax his hair. 

Mark scoffs, still trying to figure out what shirt to wear but at the end, he settles with a navy blue Ralph Lauren shirt. He was too lazy to fix his hair and wears a cap instead. 

Johnny tosses Mark something that he thinks the younger might need later on. 

"Are you for real? A condom?" A baffled Mark says in disbelief, but sliding it in his pocket anyway.

"You'll never know wildcat. You'll never know." He gives him a mischievous wink.

This wasn't just any party to them, this was an operation. Though they chose to leave for the party unarmed, they were thankfully trained well for hand to hand combat, just in case things went extremely wrong. But that was besides the point, they couldn't destroy their chances of blending in.

When the tandem arrives at the party, the elder was the only one to be greeted enthusiastically, Mark shakes it off simply because being friends with these jocks were the last thing on his list. It was Johnny's call if it didn't work for him, they had their roles. 

"Go around for a bit, I'll take care of him." Johnny whispers to Mark with a drink already in his hand.  

Mark shrugs his shoulders and explores the frat house, lit with red and blue, music blaring through speakers and the muffled conversations from the people that filled it. 

Nothing seemed too off the bat here, it was everything you would expect a frat party to be. There hasn't been a trace of NCT anywhere, or maybe it was because they were being taken too discreetly. 

"Want some?" a random guy nudges him, discreetly handing a packet of the substance. He takes it and plays it cool. 

"Yo, sick. Thanks man." He pats him on the back. 

“Yo it’s not free.” The guy laughs then it disappears. “20 bucks.”

Mark's smile fades, embarrassed. Thank god he brought his wallet. “Here. Thanks.”

"Don't sweat it." and he gives him a small salute.

Mark quickly slides it in his pocket, to keep as evidence later. 

"Bad boy." You snake your hands around his shoulders. "Want some?" You offer your red punch with vodka. 

His eyes widen, but eases under your touch. Finally, someone who's familiar. Overly familiar. "Hey, y/n" he shakes his head no. "I don't feel like drinking tonight" he makes up an excuse. 

"So are you…" 

"Am i?" 

"Are you going to take that?" You say, pointing at the pocket where he hid it.

Uncertain, he shakes his head no. "But should I? Have you ever had one of these?" 

"Oh god no." You say in disgust. "I have seen people's reactions to it though. It's borderline batshit crazy, those things." You explain. Hoping that he wouldn't ever try taking those. You knew about the whole Minjung incident. "One of the girls who lived next door died because of it." 

Your remark sparks an interest in him. "Minjung?" He questions. This could be a big help to their operation. But it wasn't a good time to interrogate you.

You raise your brows, "How'd you know her name?" 

He fakes a cough and tries to quickly think of a reason. "Mr- Mr. Benett told us. He said that recently a student passed away but never said it was because of the drug…" 

You crease up, "That old man is fucking clueless." You cross your arms. "But I'm just looking out for you okay? There's safer ways to have fun." 

"Right " He pursues a smile.

Too much fun wasn't part of the plan tonight but you made it difficult for him to do his job. Effortlessly. 

You fake a pout. "C'mon tiger, live a little! It's not going to be that bad." You try to convince him, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to keep your drink from spilling, his arms naturally overlapping and resting just right above your ass.

To hell with this. He's been dreaming of this his entire life. After being in such a conservative family and all, he deserved to try new things out. He was old enough. He thinks to himself, while catching a glimpse of Johnny chugging down a keg. "You're right." he smirks, and you offer your drink for him to taste. 

Mark's face scrunches a little from the alcohol, but it felt nice. Good enough for him to grab you by the arm and head to get one himself. 

He scans the counter full of different drinks with a variety of colored juices. He chooses the blue lemonade with vodka which you gladly made, handing him the red plastic cup after. "Cheers" you say, delighted with the smile he gave you. 

It wasn't long enough until the both of you were back to dancing again, not giving a care like everyone else. He could kiss you right now. And he did, he couldn't miss the opportunity to make your tongues turn purple. 

----

Johnny has done everything with all his might to get along with these jocks, kids these days do party harder huh? He doesn't remember having this kind of intolerance to alcohol before, he had to get it out of his system before he forgets what he's really here for.  

"Nah this dude's a goner!" Yuta enthusiastically points at Johnny, who now had both of his hands on his knees. 

"Hold on, I gotta have some air outside" he raises his arms in defeat, words slurring out of his mouth and vision so blurred he could barely tell where he's going. Finally after much stumbling and ending up in filthy corners, he managed to find a bathroom. Not a usable one though.

"Oh god- sorry" He says as he sees two people fucking each other's guts out on on the sink. "Nevermind" he immediately shuts the door and leaves them alone. It didn't take long for him to just head outside and vomit on the lawn of the frat house. Oh yes, great fertilizer. 

Johnny regains a very small amount of composure and he felt someone tap and rub his back. "You okay?" Jaehyun chuckles, with a drunk Yuta tagging along.

Johnny takes a deep breath and tries to stand straight with all his might, trying to act like everything was under control. "Shits wild here" He chaffs, but his brows furrow when he sees a familiar pattern on Yuta's skin. "What's that you got there?" Johnny tries to reach for the latter's arm carefully. 

Yuta excitedly raises his sleeve, revealing a tattoo. "Oh this? It's a tattoo man. Gotta get inked at some point!" Yuta says, proudly. "Do you want one? I know a place!"

Jaehyun sighs. He was hyperactive again. "Yuta-"

"What? C'mon look I got this as soon as I got out of my parent's house. Those folks made me feel like I was in jail!" The drunk boy overshares. Johnny pays attention because there was a possibility that these thoughts were sober. 

Johnny was quickly disappointed, but not surprised. "Yeah? That's cool. I'll pass. Kinda scared of needles..." He trails off. 

"Pfft. Pussy." Yuta spat, Johnny was ready to give him a piece of his knuckles. 

Jaehyun blocks Johnny with his arm, "Cut him some slack man, I've known this guy since high school. Let him have his fun. He won't even remember this." 

The three head back inside to enjoy the rest of the party when the duo completely forget what they were initially here for. Johnny had spent the rest of the night enjoying himself, so did Mark.

You and Mark decided to play along with the drinking games these people planned, with the faces that you will surely forget by tomorrow. 

You've already had a couple to drink, so it became harder for you to aim in beer pong. Luckily, Mark was right behind you, with a steady grip on your hips and one arm helping you aim for the ball. 

You close one eye trying to focus as he helped you aim for the cup. "She shoots, she scores!" he shouts playfully and there goes another drink for you. 

"You still alright? We can stop if you want," He whispers, lips tingling on your collarbone, sending chills to your spine. 

You turn to face him, a gentle hand on his lean chest. "I want you.".  You whisper, dragging a painfully slow finger to his lips. You were so knit together that you could feel the growing tent in his pants on your throbbing core. He was irresistible. 

He gulps. Here comes nothing. Johnny sure knows his shit huh?

Mark quickly leads you upstairs, looking for a vacant room to settle in. He turned the knobs one by one but they were all locked, your last resort was a surprisingly available restroom. 

"Will this do for you?" Mark hesitates, because he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

Your tipsy self playfully pinches his cheek, "You do it for me, tiger." And it was enough to drive him to the edge. 

As soon as the both of you enter the bathroom, your lips connect once again, sloppily kissing each other like you were out of your minds. Like you wanted to swallow and consume this man whole. 

"I want you to see for yourself how crazy you make me." You say through the slapdash kisses.

He puts a hand under your dress, feeling your drenched cunt. "You're so fucking wet. Is this all for me?" He says out of breath, mouth almost watering with the thought of your pussy in his mouth.

"All yours baby." You bite his lower lip and stick out your tongue for him to suck. 

He raises your dress just below your ribcage and slides down your black lace lingerie as it fell to your ankles, "Just so you know, I'm keeping this." Mark smirks as he quickly puts it in his pocket. 

"It's meant to be yours," You purr, setting your back flat on the cold tiled wall, throwing your head back at the sensation of Mark leaving wet kisses on your thighs. 

He kneels and places your legs over his shoulders, lifting your feet off the ground. He was sturdy as a rock as his two arms held your thighs for support while you removed his cap for you to wear over your head and your fingers to be locked in his hair. 

"Fuck." You hiss as his tongue lapped on your folds, slurping on your wetness like he worshiped you. He sucked repeatedly on your clit making your legs tremble, so good that you might fall over but his reflexes were out of his world and he knew where exactly to support you. 

Your eyes painfully roll to the back of your head from the sensation he was giving you, "God, Kalen don't fucking stop-" you moan and you swear this man had some spell casted on his mouth by how magical it worked. 

You grind your hips involuntarily as his mouth followed it, like this could not get any better than it already was. But you could only take so much. "Kalen I'm gonna cum, fuck" 

"It's not over until it's over baby," he sets you down and removes his mouth from your pussy, you could barely stand with your legs feeling like absolute gelatin. 

Mark gets a condom out of his pocket and quickly unbuckles his belt, making his jeans fall to the ground and expose his throbbing cock, boxers wet with precum. 

"You think you can last longer for me baby girl?" 

You could only nod your head eagerly because you were growing extremely impatient. 

He wraps your legs around his waist in a swift move. "Good girl" He whispers, and you were more than ready to take him. Again and again. 

He inserts himself inside you, stretching your walls and you whimper, wrapping your arms around his head to keep his face close to the valley of your breasts. 

"That's right, open up for me, pretty girl." He pleads as he continues to thrust in a steady pace. Breath hitched as he brought his face up to you, slurping your tongue once more like it was a popsicle that he couldn't get enough of. "Taking me so well like always huh?" he chuckles and picks up his pace, throaty moans escaping his mouth. 

Thank fuck the music in this house was loud enough to blow off people's eardrums, making your moans almost inaudible outside, but loud enough for Marks pleasure. For his ears only. 

“Fuck I’m almost-” Mark huffs, “there.” he breathes. When his pace becomes sloppy and finally comes, you hold onto him, your legs numb that you could barely stand on your own. Conscious with the fact that Mark will get to see how fucked out you look, but he absolutely loved it. 

-----

"What'd I tell ya? That condom didn't go to waste." Johnny snickers while laying in bed, tossing his football. 

Head in the clouds with the thought of you, Mark could only smile to himself but quickly changes the subject before they both lose all purpose. 

"Find anything out yet?" Mark asks mindlessly, because all he could think about was you. 

"Nope." Johnny says, popping the p. He lied.

And something clicks with Mark. That packet of NCT he managed to keep in his pocket. He rushes over to his hamper and flips the pockets of his pants. 

"Someone handed it to me yesterday, I kept it for evidence to bring at the headquarters." He hands the packet to Johnny.

The elder observes it, trying to push the thought of Yuta possibly being a dealer to the very back of his head right now. Give it time. Mark was just starting to enjoy being with you, Johnny has been enjoying being one of the new aces in the football team, it wouldn't hurt to hold it out for a little while. 

"Also," Mark adds, "Y/n knows about Minjung. Said she lived across the hall."

"And?" Johnny anticipates. 

"That's all I know for now. It's still a big step though." Mark concludes.

----

Johnny spends his free time hanging with Jaehyun and the rest of the boys. If not in practice, they hit the gym to always be in tip-top shape. 

Yuta swings a heavy arm over Johnny's shoulders, "Well isn't it our quitter!" 

Johnny shoots Jaehyun a look, "You told me he wouldn't remember." 

Jaehyun could only chuckle, "Well he did." 

Yuta was loud as a goose, he seemed to have so much more energy than the other members of the team that Johnny became suspicious of where it came from. 

He recalls the time when the chief described the effects of the NCT substance, and one of them was being focused and hyperactive.

Yuta, besides being silly, was on top of his own game. After joking around he was a hundred percent focused on the gym, his reps were consistent, his routines were clean. Jaehyun tells Johnny that Yuta was also one of the greatest instruments of the football team. Though not gifted with the brightest mind, he worked hard to stay in this university to prove his parents wrong—and to avoid business school.

He was a potential heir to a known electronics company in Japan, but he insisted that he pursue being part of the varsity team to keep his scholarship in sports science. Which until now was an endless debate between him and his parents. 

Jaehyun had invited Johnny to stay over at the frat house to hang out, and he did. 

It was different to see it in daylight, with no people partying, no vomit and crushed chips on the floor, it looked well taken care of. 

"You guys clean this up yourselves after every party?" Johnny asks, impressed. 

"Yep," Jaehyun proudly says. 

"You gotta look out for the shit they leave behind here. It's amusing." Yuta retorts. 

Johnny raises a brow, "Oh yeah? Like what?" 

Without wit, Yuta replies, "Drugs"

Johnny, absolutely being taken back by his bold remark was immediately clutched by Jaehyun, "He doesn't mean it." 

His suspicion grew so much that he couldn't help but finally bring up the subject. "Like what? Like NCT?" he enunciates. 

Jaehyun, quite astounded by Johnny's knowledge with the substance replies, "Hm maybe. You know about that?" 

And he was in the trance. "Heard of it yeah, can you hook me up with some?

"Oh sure it’s right-" Yuta reaches for his pocket, "here." and sticks his middle finger out playfully. Johnny swats it away.

"Woah there-" Jaehyun almost bust a gut while laughing. "You're definitely new to this. We don't have any." He tells Johnny. "Don't be such a narc." 

Way too defensively, Johnny retorts, "I'm not!"

"That's what they all say." Yuta shrugs with a chuckle.

 He spends the rest of the afternoon with them and surprisingly hasn't dealt with unusual rituals and behavior. They acted their age, playing games on a PS5, drinking soda until their bladders exploded, filling themselves with junk food and spray cheese. He could be wrong about them after all.

----

Days passed and not a single thing has led them closer to their target person, it was harder than they thought even when everything felt like it was right in front of them. 

"Student-Parent day is coming soon, are you going?" You ask Mark as you take a sip of your coffee. 

You took him to your favorite coffee shop for the first time, it's a nice and quiet place for you to study and relax. 

"They have those?" Mark hesitates because then he'd have to tell his parents that he's undercover and they'd forget and blow it for him. "I guess so." 

"Good. Because I'd like you to meet my parents." You smile. Though you didn't know where you stood with Mark, the past few weeks with him had been a breath of fresh air. He was kind, funny and supportive. He was simple yet his ways of showing his thoughts were sophisticated, never had you once thought that you would get along so well with a person in such a short time. You weren't the one to ask for labels though. You simply liked to enjoy whatever you had at the moment. In your experience, putting labels on things just always gave a reason for it to vanish. 

"What why?" He says, a little too surprised.

"Look Kalen, don't break a sweat with this. I'm just going to introduce you. They won't mind." You assure him. 

He simply leaves the topic behind and ponders on how he could make this work. He was scared because you had no idea that this was all temporary, and he's terrified by the fact that he wishes it wasn't. He was finding all the possible reasons and excuses to retract himself from this relationship he has with you, but all you ever gave him was a reason to stay. It broke his heart knowing that one day, he'll have to disappoint you with the truth. 

"Something wrong?" 

He snaps out of it. "Nothing." and forces a smile. 

-----

"We aren't making any progress man," Mark runs a hand through his hair and sighs. His back falls heavily on his bed.

Johnny anxiously bites his lap, eyes fixated on the floor. "Yuta has a tattoo…" 

"What?" the younger jolts up. 

Johnny backs up defensively, "But it wasn't the one we saw! You know how the tattoo artist said he's done a couple of those."

"Are you shitting me right now? We've been trying to find it for weeks! Why didn't you tell me?" His voice raises, and a vein on his forehead couldn't help but emerge. 

"I don't think it's him man, I told you it’s not the same tattoo" Johnny defends. 

Mark lets out a pungent laugh, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek, his jaw stiffens. "Right. I knew it. " He says in disbelief. "Everything's right in front of you already! Too scared to bust your new besties now?" 

"They aren't my new besties stop making up bullshit." The elder stubbornly defends. 

"No you stop because I'm actually trying here!" 

"Oh you are? Explain why you're getting so serious with that girl of yours. Wait until she finds out that she's just part of the plan." He jumps on Mark's throat and walks out of the room. 

The thing is, you weren't even part of the plan. Not at all. 

-----

"You better have good shit for me today." The chief clearly was not being in his best mood today. 

Mark scoffs, he and Johnny had not settled their differences since the fight from two days ago, they were doing their own investigations without communicating. Which was a big no.

"Ask the big guy here, I'm sure he has something." Tongue in his cheek, Mark glares. 

The chief slams a big hand on the table and shouts, "Stop acting like fucking children!" 

Johnny stiffened up on his seat, and gulped before he spoke. "I think we need to initiate a drug test on one of the students, chief. I have my eye on this one person. We could pretend to say that the thing is randomized and mandatory. If the intel can look up information about his parents, we could send a pretend automated message about their child being randomly selected for a drug test." 

The chief seems to be taking Johnny's point well, "And who is this you suspect?" 

"Nakamoto Yuta." 

Mark looks at Johnny with wide eyes, he thought Johnny wouldn't be turning him in. 

"I see. I'll get the department to execute this idea of yours and we'll let you know right away. Dismissed." 

Mark catches up to Johnny who had been walking ahead of him and tries to reach for the elder's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Let go of me," Johnny knocks Mark's hand off his shoulder. "Are you happy now?" 

Dumbfounded, Mark couldn't seem to understand where Johnny's irritation was coming from. "Look man, I'm sorry you had to turn one of your friends in but you know it's our job." 

"I know okay? I don't need you telling me what to do because so far, I know pretty damn well that I'm not meddling in your fucking business." 

Mark pushes a hard hand on Johnny, making him stumble a little. "My relationship has nothing to do with this. Are you jealous? Because if you are, I know pretty damn well you can score a lot of chicks here. I don't see the problem." 

Johnny tries to speak but was unable to because Mark had already stormed off elsewhere. 

----

 "Shit. My parents are coming to fetch me today." Yuta runs a veiny hand through his ginger hair; another reason for his parents to pull him out of university. But here's the first: 

Jaehyun, disinterested even if he knew it was serious whenever Yuta's parents butt in and ask why.

"They wanna do a drug test on me." 

Jaehyun chortles, "What? You? What made them think that? Besides you acting like a crackhead?" 

"They got this stupid email from the dean that I was amongst the randomly chosen individuals to get tested." He pops a sour kid patch in his mouth, "They're never letting this go." He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. "I have never even tried NCT." he rolls his eyes. 

Yuta, though by the looks of him, gave an impression of a boy who would try everything in front of him, but he's a wuss with a good conscience. Too good.

"Well, you are innocent after all, right?" Jaehyun shrugs. "There's nothing to worry about. Um, besides your dyed hair, your tattoo, that lip piercing." He eyes him up and down. "No biggie, just probably uh—two weeks worth of grounding. And no allowance." 

"Fuck you man." the ginger-haired boy glared.

------

Johnny walks around the campus, alone. It sucked to not be on good terms with Mark, what ever happened to bros before hoes? It just wasn't the same doing things without him. Johnny had given Mark his personal space for the both of you, but at times like this—it was the hardest to stay out of it. 

As he passes by the back of the Fine Arts building, he sees two familiar faces on the exposed staircase. 

He squints his eyes and tries to focus on who those people might be, the mop of ash purple hair too familiar. But one thing that utterly shocked him was the sight of someone he expected the least.

It was you and Jaehyun, standing way too close to each other for anyone's liking.

Johnny takes a deep breath and sucks in his cheeks. He didn't know what this meant, and he wished he wouldn't have to be the one to give it any interpretation that would disappoint him and especially Mark. 

He walks away from the scene before you get a chance to see him.

"Jaehyun, you don't have to stand this close to me," You backed up, hips hitting the ledge lightly. 

He looks to the side, then back at you. "Sorry," he cockily says, backing up with both of his hands raised. "Can't help it. My best friend's too fine. And someone was looking." he mumbles.

"What?" 

"Nothing, he's gone"

"You know I'm with Kalen right now Jaehyun." You say with worry, it could've been anyone. "Quit. Don't ruin this for me." 

He manages to let a disgruntled chuckle, "And yet you still can't put a label on it." 

And with that, he was off. 

The entire time Johnny was battling with himself if she should tell Mark about what he saw or not. Them being in a misunderstanding right now doesn't change the fact that he was still his best friend. 

After the excruciatingly slow walk to the dorm, he had hoped that Mark wouldn't be around, so he wouldn't have to face him with the information he had right away. He couldn't even form the words for it. The. again, when did anything ever go his way, right? 

Johnny enters the room and there was Mark, munching on some chips while viewing something on his laptop. Something probably for one of his classes. Mark didn't have to take this so seriously (by this he meant his classes) but he did, because the Mark we all know just loved to learn. Good for him. 

He ignores Johnny's presence; though he was very much aware of it. The elder plops down his bed and grabs his football to toss around. It was so awkward; not greeting each other with their usual weirdness and excitement. It felt like there was this gaping hole between them that both of them were afraid to cross, and no one had the initiative to take a risk—for now. 

"Find anything?" Johnny asks Mark, eyes on the ceiling. 

"Nope." 

"Why not?" 

"Do you have anything?"

Well, he did. But not about their task. Instead, he says "Nope." but he couldn’t help but ask. “How are you and y/n?”

“Good.” Mark plainly answers.

“Good.”

And left it at that. 

-----

You were going to let your parents meet Mark today, and his would meet yours. You were new to this, there was not a single man you had introduced to your parents, aside from Jaehyun. But that was a different story, because Jaehyun was a childhood friend. 

So Mark was the first… whatever this was called. You couldn’t get yourself to call him that, you didn’t deserve to. For you labels were earned, not just given. But this will do for now. 

You see him from a distance with his parents, he resembled his father’s face structure and his mother’s eyes. His smile was uniquely his own. You wave a hand in the air and he catches the sight of it, smiling even wider. 

“You’re in college again honey?” Mark’s mom asks, clueless.

“Mom, I'm undercover please don’t bring that up anywhere. Please keep quiet for me.” He whispers sternly. 

His mom zips her mouth figuratively, his dad got the idea of the whole thing, so they acted according to the assignment. 

As he got closer to where you were, his legs grew weak. But he couldn’t falter, he had to put on a strong face. But at that moment, Mark wanted to be buried alive. He wanted to turn his back and run away.

“Mom, dad, this is Kalen.” You present him to them with a grin. 

“H-hello.” Mark lets out, his chest clenching. 

“Kalen. You sure I haven’t seen you before?” Your father says, gripping Mark’s hand firm, he could almost squeeze the guts out of it. Your father was his deputy chief. 

Mark, crushed under the man’s grip, “N-no sir.” he manages to blurt out. 

You sense the tension and tell your dad, “Dad, that’s enough.” 

Your dad let go, with a smug and bitter look on his face. Your mom, who- with absolutely no idea what Mark has to do with your father, greets him politely. 

You greet Mark's parents with glee, and proceed to walk with him, keeping a fair distance from both your parents. "Sorry about my dad, he's just stressed about his job. He's a deputy chief, rustling with knuckleheads all the time." You explain. 

Sure he's been through a lot. Mark thought. "Yea yea, I totally get it. It's fine." he nods. Knuckleheads. He laughs to himself. 

The rest of the parents’ day event was a total drag, every time Mark got into eye contact with their chief, it had seemed like the man wanted to rip his head away from his body, or maybe skin him alive. Mark had no idea, because if he did he wouldn’t have risked going this far with you. What is left to do now? How can he ever face his boss knowing that he broke the first rule given to them right in his face? And with his own daughter? He should start digging his own grave at this point. 

But the chief didn't lay a finger on him, not now when his daughter was at stake. 

----

Mark has been itching to tell Johnny about what had happened. He was willing to set aside their differences because he needed his best friend, now. 

"Johnny-" Mark breathes, not making eye contact with the elder who was on his phone, this room had been dead silent for days. 

Johnny's head perks up, it was nice hearing him call his name again. "Yeah?" 

"I kinda messed up… big time." Mark scratches the back of his head, shameful. 

Johnny sits up, and listens to the younger more attentively. "What do you mean?" 

"Y/n.." he trails off, "Y/n is the chief's daughter." And catches his face on his hands. 

"Fuck…" Johnny didn't know what to say. "How'd you know?" 

"The student-parent weekend thing. God, I swear dude he was going to skin me alive if he could. But shit, I didn't know!" Mark exclaims, hands all over the place. "If I did then I wouldn't have gone through with this. She has never told me about her parents until that day. I don't know what to do." 

He seemed so helpless, he didn't want to break to you like this, it was too messy. But damn if he didn't want to keep being with you. It couldn't end like this, not yet. 

"I- I don't know what to say man… God I'm sorry this sucks ass. You know I always let you do what makes you happy right? But what if," Johnny stops, debating if he should go on with what he planned to say. 

"What if?" Mark anticipates. 

"What if she isn't who you thought she was?" 

"Great. I'm so fucking stupid for thinking you would be with me on this one." Mark slams his hands on his lap and stands, slamming the door on the way out. 

"Mark-" Johnny reaches for the door but misses a beat, it was too late. He let his best friend slip away from him again. 

And as soon as Mark left their room, he was on his way to meet up with you, hoping you would be free. He hadn't had much time with you after the following days of the event because you had always excused yourself with how busy you are with your submissions and requirements, or that's what you would like to tell him. 

Your phone rings in your pocket as you excuse yourself from the people you were with at the moment, when you check to see who it was, you find the quietest place possible. 

"Kalen," You spoke, "What's up?" 

"Are you free? I was hoping I'd finally catch you." 

You sigh, you missed spending time with him. "I am," you say in advance before you bail out of this place you were in. "See you at the cafe in 10?" 

You hear him chuckle over the line, and you just knew he was smiling when he said "Great, I'll see you." 

"See you, Kal." You smile and tuck your phone back in your pocket. 

"Who was that?" Jaehyun asks when he bumps into you in the hallway of the frat house. "Oh you've got that sickening smile right now. It must've been Kalen" He rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever Jae," You brush past him. "I'm heading out." 

"But we're not done!" 

You didn't respond and left, shutting the door behind you. 

The cafe was a short walk from your university, but you just happened to bump into Mark on the way, now you don't have to walk alone. 

He smoothly slips his hand in yours, holding it gently and reading your expression. You look to the side with a wide grin on your face, unable to help the fact that you were blushing like crazy. 

"Nice hoodie," he comments. The garment looked a little too familiar to him, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. “You never gave back my jacket..”

You mentally facepalm, forgetting the fact that you were wearing Jaehyun's hoodie. You pray that Mark wouldn't see this on him anytime soon, you wouldn't want him to get a bad idea. 

"Oh right that, I’ll get it dry cleaned and I’ll give it back" you utter. "Something bothering you?" You ask, trying to read his sulky expression. 

He shakes his head, "No no, I want you to keep it. And I just missed you." He forms a small smile, making your heart melt. You were so easily captivated by his presence that it scared you. He always left you feeling unhinged—in a good way. 

"I missed you too, tiger." You grip his hand a little tighter.  

When he licks his lips, only by then you realize how much you missed kissing him. Right then and there, you just wanted another taste. This was exactly why you were trying to keep yourself busy and away from him for a bit; you had to convince yourself that you couldn’t be attached to him because you could never take care of the things you keep. 

He opens the door for you like always and the chimes in the cafe ring in a sweet melody, a sound that always reminds you of your moments with him. The both of you always shared comfortable memories in this cafe, from small coffee dates to working on papers until it closed. You couldn’t imagine sharing it with anyone else. 

When you settle down he automatically takes your usual orders right away. You could not take your eyes off him, he was such a dream.

He sets the tray down with your drinks, and a pastry that you shared a love-hate relationship with. Cheesecake.

You chuckle at the thought of recalling all the times that you convinced Mark that cheesecake slices weren’t supposed to be as huge as they are and that there are definitely better one’s in other places, but Mark’s favorite was Starbucks’. Maybe that’s why you have learned to love it somehow, because you get to enjoy it with him. 

"I thought you didn't like this? You almost finished the whole thing… I literally bought this for myself." He says sarcastically, very much amused at how you barely even noticed that you were close to finishing the entire thing. 

"Oh shit.. sorry" You show him a pout and feed the last piece to him. "Here." You smile cutely. 

He rolls his eyes and bites it off your fork, you both bid goodbye to the cheesecake. 

Mark’s phone rings in his pocket and when he checks to see, it was Johnny. He lets out a sigh and puts his phone back in his pocket. 

“Are you going to take that?” You ask. 

“Nah”

But Johnny was persistent, he did see this coming. He knew that Mark would ignore him at first so he decided to send him a message. This was about their job. 

“Mark, I know you hate me right now but we have to go to the office. Yuta’s tests came back.” Johnny sends. 

Mark takes a peek at his message, immediately standing up. 

“Where are you going?” You say, surprised. 

“I’m sorry I gotta go- meet my brother. He needs me for something.” He hesitantly leans forward, wanting to kiss you on the lips but kisses your forehead instead. “Text me when you get home okay?.” And with that, he was off. 

Mark rings Johnny and the elder quickly answers the call, Mark informs him that he would be heading to the office by himself since he was already closer to the location. 

But he suddenly remembers about his conflict with the chief. So he waited for Johnny to arrive outside. 

Lowering his pride he says, “I’m scared.” 

Johnny looks at him with empathy and says, “We can’t change what happened Mark. Just take it all in for now and we’ll figure out what to do about it later.” He pats the younger’s back and gives his shoulders an assuring squeeze before heading inside. 

Mark could not look at his boss, the feeling of wanting to be eaten alive was back again, why did he have to be your father? 

When Mark finally gets the courage to face him, the chief yells, “The fuck are you looking at?” making Mark flinch and shrink into his seat. 

Johnny felt the need to protect his friend and at the same time, to get what they were really here for. “Um, Sir can you save the ass beating for next time? We really need to look into Yuta’s results now.” He scratches the back of his neck. 

The chief grunts angrily, getting the file from his drawer. “Negative.” He says. 

Mark and Johnny give each other a look and take the folder that had the results, trying to analyze how it could possibly be negative. 

“Dammit.” Johnny whispers to himself, they had to move quickly before everything slips away from them. He takes note of Yuta’s contact number in the file to use for later. He closes the folder and places it back on the desk. “We’ll take care of this chief.” 

“You better. And you,” He presses a hard finger on Mark’s chest, “Stop fucking around with my daughter. I’ll cut your dick off.” 

Mark purses his lips before speaking, “She’s-” he gulps, “She’s really great sir. I’m not playing around with her. I’d never do anything to hurt her.” 

“You already are.” 

-----

The following day, Yuta receives a text from an unknown number, asking him to meet in an unusual location on campus. He was very skeptical at first but  believed that it was probably harmless. 

“Yah, Rolan! Sup.” He offers his fist to bump. “I was just waiting for someone here too. Some random number texted me and I was like "you know, fuck it"” he shrugs.

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle. Was innocence even the word to describe this? "And you believed them?" Johnny shakes his head.

“Yeah! Look here’s the number” he flashes his phone screen to Johnny, “I wonder where they are. Let me give them a call.” he mindlessly puts the phone next to his ear. Yuta hears a muffled cellphone ringtone and looks around for it. “Yo, your phone’s ringing you should get that.” Yuta says to Johnny, still having absolutely no idea.

“It was us who texted you, dummy.” Mark retorts, appearing from the shadows, now both of them are cornering Yuta. 

“Yo,-” Yuta laughs, still not getting the point of this all. “What’s your name again?” 

Mark rolls his eyes, “Kalen.” 

“Right! Kalen wassup? You’re his brother right?” Yuta points to Johnny with his thumb up.

Johnny pops a tongue in his cheeks, and cocks his brow. “Alright, fun’s over.” It was a shame he had to do this too early, but it had to stop. He locks Yuta’s throat with his arm, pushing him onto the solid brick wall. 

Yuta tries to toughen up and tries to push Johnny’s arm off, but due to their size difference, Johnny definitely kept him still. 

“What do you know about him” Johnny asks sternly. 

“A-about who?” Yuta coughs.

“Jaehyun. What does he do?” Mark follows. 

“Besides being the most handsome man I know, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mark shakes his head, “Well,” and gets a gun out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Will this make you talk?”

Yuta looks at him with wide eyes, he was now scared shitless. “Why- how- who are you guys!” He exclaims. 

“The police mother fucker.” Johnny says. 

But despite everything, Yuta’s tactless mouth was definitely not his best asset. “I knew it. you looked too old to be a freshman.” He looks over at Johnny. “And you, I didn’t expect you to be a cop but you did give Narc vibes in that philosophy class.” 

Mark and Johnny give each other a look, they could not be sidetracked. 

“Are you done?” Johnny tells Yuta, and he simply nods. “So are you going to talk?”

“I’m telling you I don’t know! He never trusts me with his business, he says I have a big mouth.” 

Mark snickers, “I can tell.”

Yuta scoffs, and follows, “He’s been out often recently, but he never tells me where he’s going. So I don’t know what I can do for you.” 

“Listen here buddy,” Johnny warns. “If this gets to your parents that you’re involved with someone who supplies and distributes drugs, you’re going to get your entire family deported. Do you want that?” 

Yuta gulps, “No.” then helplessly says, “I don’t know how to earn his trust with these kinds of things. He’s known me since forever but-” 

“No buts.” Mark interrupts. “Use that head of yours or your ass is going back to Japan.” 

-------

Yuta had been on edge ever since that encounter with Mark and Johnny, now this entire thing would be up to him if he cooperated or not. Yuta’s heart had been lost a couple times, but it was definitely looking to be in the right place. So he’s trying his best to help out, even if it meant that he would have to turn in his best friend. 

When he gets the time to be alone with his thoughts he looks back at all the times that Jaehyun had made him feel like he wasn’t enough to be his friend. Not giving him a good position in football, walking out on him whenever he wanted to, keeping secrets from him. Maybe he was too busy trying so hard to be validated by Jaehyun that he never really got to realize that he lost himself in the process. Letting himself be trampled all over by everyone; this was his time to do something not just for himself, but for everyone else.

On the night when Jaehyun could not escape from Yuta’s presence any longer, he thought that it would be harmless to let his friend tag along for once. It’s not like he had other friends to be with, right? Right. Jaehyun could believe that if he wanted to. 

“I’m a bit sore today, you think you can drive me?” Jaehyun asks Yuta as they were walking in the parking lot after practice. 

To be fair, Yuta was sore too. But of course they wouldn’t care. “Alright, where to?” He still manages to say. 

“I’ll tell you along the way.” 

Yuta simply shrugs and Jaehyun tosses him his car keys, placing their gym bags at the trunk of his car. Jaehyun had given him directions while driving and it was somewhere he had never been and seen before. “Are you sure it’s here?” He says, trying to drive into a dark abandoned building with only the car’s headlights being the source of light. 

“Yeah yeah, wait for me here.” Jaehyun opens the door of the car and slips away from it. “Don’t worry, this place is safe.” He tells Yuta and shuts the door close. 

Yuta immediately whips out his phone, thinking that this might be his biggest clue and texts Johnny. 

I don’t know where I am, but I’m gonna send you my pinned location based on what my gps says alright? I think this was where Jaehyun had been going. 

Johnny immediately tells Mark about this and they immediately take their car to go to where Yuta had told them. 

 Rolan: Yuta, it’s not safe for you to stay there. Can you drive away and head back here? It would be better if we keep you alive. 

I guess I could, Jaehyun’s pretty far out now. I saw him go in somewhere, I’m sure you’ll find this entrance when you get here.

With that Yuta drives off and tries to find his way back to the campus, hoping that this would be successful for Mark and Johnny. He had such a strong feeling about this, everything could go right, or just extremely wrong. But he had to expect both to keep his feet on the ground. He did the right thing. He kept telling himself that. 

“Dude this place is sketchy as hell.” Mark says, looking around. “Do you think Yuta told us the truth? I mean he’s Jaehyun’s bestfriend right?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try Mark, he seemed pretty genuine about it. Besides, all Jaehyun does is use him. I’m sure he’s tired of it.” Johnny says as they searched the place with their flashlights, their guns ready to fire if they ever go under attack. 

Finally, they find the entrance Yuta has been talking about, the chain attached to the door unlocked and loosened. When they get closer they arm themselves and keep their guard, Johnny kicks the door open and Mark could not believe what he had just seen. 

This couldn’t be. He kept repeating to himself, he didn’t want to believe that this was his reality. 

The reality that you were the one who was behind all of this.

“Hands up! We’re the police.” Johnny shouts, echoing throughout the entire warehouse. 

Mark gulps, he could not bring himself to move his feet and go closer. When you see him, you feel like you have been the biggest disappointment in someone’s life. “Kalen,” You plead with your hands up, terrified with the fact that Johnny had called off a warning shot, making you and Jaehyun back up. 

“Y/n.” Mark says, still struggling to get closer to you and lift his arm to aim his gun towards you. “Why- how could you?”

And you couldn’t answer him. The last thing you ever wanted to do was disappoint him, and yet you turned out to be every single disappointment that this world could think of. 

“Great.” Jaehyun says in anger, remorseful with the fact that both of you just got caught by the two people who had been the closest to you these past months. 

“Mark, come on. This is just as hard as it is for me than it is for you. We have to do this. It’s all we’ve been working for.” Johnny faces him, also extremely disheartened by this revelation.

Mark? His real name was Mark? “Who’s Mark?” You ask before he continues to approach you.

“Right. Now you know.” He takes a deep breath. He gets his handcuffs out of his pocket and races towards you before you could even get away. It was bizarre; how you even thought of escaping this. 

“You have the right to remain silent,” His hands shake while putting them against your back, “Anything that you say can and will be held against you in the court of law.” He swallows, and you sob. 

 “I’m so sorry I-” he cuts you off.

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.” He concludes the Miranda rights and adds, “It’s one thing to disappoint me, but another to disappoint your father.”

-----end------

[circus4apsycho8]

debacle rewritten. | chapter i

Pairing: Gaster x Reader

Summary: Things changed when you were the first Special Agent to ever be partnered with a monster. History was made the day you shook hands with W.D. Gaster, the reclusive Royal Scientist of King Asgore. Despite his coarse exterior, the two of you grow to be a good team.

When a national threat emerges, you two are the first to be assigned to its investigation. It's a complex mystery - foreign to you in that it involves the use of magic to thwart evidence analysis. With your partner by your side, the two of you learn to navigate this new territory together.

Warnings: This fic will eventually contain large amounts of blood and gore. PTSD will be mentioned. Explicit language. Eventual smut.

A/N: Hello all! I just want to quickly establish a few things.

So, I got the opportunity to actually visit an FBI field office over the summer, and that's the inspiration for this story. I'd like to point out that the field office here and people on this branch are all fictional. I did my best to keep everything modern and realistic, but that will probably slip in some areas for the sake of the story.

Secondly, no political comments, please. I hear enough of it IRL and don't want it leaking here.

I think that's about all for now. I hope you enjoy! (Sorry the intro is so long, it's the last time it'll be this long!)

...

This is it.

A lengthy sigh escapes your lips as you straighten the cuffs of your suit for what must be the millionth time today. Nervousness bubbles within your stomach as you fiddle with your hands. The only noise present is the ticking of the clock mounted on the wall behind you. The chair you’re seated in fails to aid in your relaxation as your eyes flit about the office, eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone. Anyone at this rate. You aren’t sure how much longer you can just sit here.

A few moments pass before your anxiety grows too great for you to remain sitting. You stand, rubbing your face as you take a moment to breathe. Panicking won’t help anything. You have to give yourself credit, too – out of all your coworkers, your boss selected you to be the first human ever to be partnered with a monster for a federally-assigned task. This is a historic moment marking the unification of human and monsterkind alike ever since they escaped the Undergroud. As a result, you’re here – about to be partnered with one of King Asgore’s most trusted scientists.

Why me?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door swinging open with a slight creak. You immediately turn to see who has joined you.

There stands your boss, Special Agent in Charge Warner Boothe. He’s a man in his thirties with hair done up more neatly than normal. You swallow, ceasing your fidgeting as you face him.

“Hey,” he greets, a taut smile on his face. You can tell he’s nervous too, which simultaneously comforts and scares you.

“Hi,” you reply. “Is it time?”

“Just about. I came here a bit early because I wanted to talk to you.” He steps inside, closing the door gently. He adjusts his tie as he faces you. “Look, I’m not going to lie. There are a lot of people out there. Paparazzi, reporters, news cast, security…it’s a lot. More than what we’ve dealt with in the past. It’s intimidating as hell, but you’re going to be great. Just be yourself.”

You grasp your forehead, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m…I’m about to be on national news. That thought alone is scarier than any job I’ve worked before.”

How are things going to change after this?

Warner chuckles, patting your shoulder. “In the time that I’ve known you, you’ve navigated even the most complex of challenges with a level mind and clear conscious. That’s part of the reason I chose you for this. You’re going to be fine. It’s just a matter of believing that yourself.”

You exhale shakily, nodding. Yeah. They’re just people who want to see what’s going on. And yeah, they may be broadcasting it for the whole nation to see…but hey. It’s a historic day, and you’re here for it firsthand.

“Okay. Thank you. I think I’m ready now.”

Warner smiles. “Good. I’ll show you where you’ll be waiting until I give the cue, which will just be me announcing your name towards the end of my spiel.”

“Noted.”

With that, you follow him out of the waiting room. The place is relatively empty, which makes sense considering the event today. King Asgore is here, along with Queen Toriel. They would be making a speech alongside your boss, presenting you and your new partner.

Eventually, you make it to the hallway leading outside to the patio, where you hear muffled voices. The door has been propped open by a weight. You step to the side, nodding at Warner as he smiles and exits.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather yourself. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. You repeat that over and over as you stare at the carpeted floor and dim hall. Pictures of previous Special Agents in Charge line the wall, and a lounging sofa has been pushed against the wall you’re leaning against. You can’t bring yourself to sit again, though. You’re far too jittery now.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we are ready to start,” comes a familiar voice. You recognize it as King Asgore’s.

You hear Warner’s voice come on next: “I agree. First of all, allow us to officially welcome everyone to the Ebott Field Office. Today is a landmark event that will further aid in the advancement of human and monster unification.”

“We have decided it is time we merge our resources, manpower, and intelligence in order to create a safer nation,” Asgore adds.

“And in doing so, we are creating a partnership. A very special partnership, at that – the first official monster-human team.”

“The formation of this team signifies the Federal Bureau of Investigaton’s alliance with monsterkind.”

“And it is now I introduce the Special Agent selected for this opportunity…” Warner says your name, which almost makes you lightheaded for some reason. Even so, you narrow your stare before taking a deep breath and stepping outside.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the sun’s brightness, but soon you see both Warner and Asgore smiling at you kindly. Asgore is dressed in golden armor, donning his massive trident. Despite his large stature, you can see the kindness embedded within his stare.

The crowd applauds, so you smile and do your best to relax as you step towards the center, where two podiums stand side-by-side. You wait behind it with your hands folded in front of you, noting that there is a pen on top of both podiums.

“And it is now I introduce the Royal Scientist selected for this opportunity… Mister W.D. Gaster.”

The audience applauds again as a tall skeleton walks out. He’s much more graceful than you are, and by the looks of it, way prettier.

He’s dressed in a white, long-sleeved button up covered by a pinstriped waistcoat colored black and grey. He dons a pair of matching black trousers and tie to complete the look. Two scars run in opposite vertical directions from his…eye sockets? In any case, there’s a pair of white pinpoints there too. And they seem to be focused on you.

Gaster stops when he’s directly in front of his podium, remaining silent as your superiors continue their speech.

“With the signing of the agreement, we mark the first partnership between the FBI and monsterkind,” Warner says as another Special Agent hands him the agreement. He signs one line before handing it to Asgore, who signs another line. He proceeds to give it to Gaster to sign. You watch as he signs his name with a few elegant flicks of his wrist before sliding the paper to your podium.

On this day:

September 5th, 20XX

An alliance was established between the FBI and King Asgore.

Signed,

Warner Boothe

Asgore Dreemurr

W.D. Gaster

And there, you sign your name, heart racing as you watch the ink form your name. Wow. This…this really is huge. You will yourself not to shake as you set the paper down, turning to Gaster with a determined stare.

Your mind seems to be on autopilot as you slowly raise your arm, offering your hand. He studies your gaze for a moment before smiling smally and encasing your hand in his, firmly shaking it.

That small gesture elicits a cheer and a round of applause from everyone around you. You smile, picking up the paper before handing it to Warner and looking out at the crowd one last time before you’re escorted back inside.

I think this is where I’m meant to be.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Another draft from Faces That You Know. Unlike the last, the content in this is quite similar to my final version-- I just got bogged down in details and strayed too far from the tone I wanted to keep, so it got overhauled.

As per usual, it’s very rough. Editing notes and placeholders, etc, etc.

---

Emmet got himself involved twice over. The first time, he didn’t even realize what was happening.

All he’d had the time to process was the too-large unidentified Pokemon that charged up to him, sniffed furiously, and, with a disgruntled look, tore away again. Later in the day, he’d hear stories about it scaling buildings and screeching from its various perches, among other minor nuisances, but the city’s fascination was the Pokemon itself.

Of course, the incident-- while not forgotten-- was quickly overtaken by the news coming out of Virbank, Nacrene and Opelucid. People had appeared, en mass, with no idea how they’d gotten there or even where they were; it was a [revelation] accompanied by the sudden appearance of an unfathomably huge Avalugg in the Moor of Icirrus and sightings of other odd, if more reasonably sized, Pokemon.

It stood to reason that Emmet’s strange encounter had been with one such creature.

Curious as it was, he wasn’t officially [associated] until a week after the fact, when he was asked to receive and corral a number of their odd visitors so they could [meet/collaborate] in the halfway point Nimbasa represented. It was meant to be a brief task-- to ensure that nobody got lost before they met at the designated gathering point-- but all it took was one particular set of words for Emmet to decide it was his business.

The first group arrived with little fanfare, later than he’d anticipated. They stared longer than was polite, but Emmet said nothing on the matter; perhaps, wherever they came from, it wasn’t considered rude. The girl leading the pack sent a sharp look toward a man who’d refused to button up his shirt, and then began whispering furiously to the other two women accompanying her. The group’s youngest member said nothing, but pulled the brim of his hat down as he continued to [stare], as if to camouflage what he was doing.

Through irked, Emmet paid them little mind and ensured that they were all settled before checking his timetables. This group had missed their scheduled train, and he wouldn’t have time to see them off before the second [group] was set to arrive. It would be fine; he could coordinate large gatherings, and the first party seemed easy enough to work with, if lacking in common courtesy.

Fortunately, the second set of travelers arrived right on time. The man in charge was the last of his [pack] through the doors, and spared him a nod and a lopsided smile on the way by.

“Warden,” He greeted, “I’d nearly forgotten what you looked like beneath that ratty old coat.”

The one who’d exited ahead of him stopped abruptly, whirling around to give Emmet an unabashed once-over; the leader sighed and took him by the shoulder before he could start anything, “Not now, Melli. We have a schedule to keep.”

Melli continued to give Emmet the stink eye until the other man tightened his grip and dragged the both of them to where the others were waiting. The girl from earlier was already standing to greet him and, while Emmet busied himself with arranging further transport, the two spoke amongst themselves.

It eventually culminated in a plainly offended, “Do you think I can’t recognize my own Wardens, Adaman? The first I appointed after earning my position, even? I don’t know who that is, but he is not Ingo.”

[…] “Correct! I’m not Ingo. I am Emmet. A Subway Boss-- one of two.” / “My brother has been missing for a verrrry long time. But you know him well enough to tell us apart.” At the tension rising in the groups, he forcibly calmed himself and, more [defeated] than he meant to let slip, added, “Can you tell me where he is?”

The girl, at least, looked far more sympathetic than she had initially, “I wish we could. We’ve made every effort to regroup since coming here, but,” She waved a hand toward the rest of her people, “He’s the only Warden who never responded. That was odd enough in and of itself. We saw Lady Sneasler once, but as soon as she realized he wasn’t with us, she ran off again.”

Emmet nodded vaguely, still listening, but his focus drifted with the negative answer. Wherever his brother had been, it wasn’t Unova-- not if these foreign visitors knew him well enough to recognize [how odd his tardiness was]-- so the initial effort had been doomed from the start, but maybe…

His hand dropped to the second pokeball on his belt. Several heads shot up at the motion, wary; others, like the two leaders, looked on in distaste. Emmet ignored the lot of them and released Chandelure.

It had already been a week without any [reaction] from her, but she hadn’t known that the circumstances changed, or made an active attempt to find her trainer. If so many people had been sent here from… wherever Ingo had wound up, there was a chance it could work this time.

“I’m sorry to ask you again, Chandelure,” / “Can you sense him? Is he here?”

She chimed at him, concerned, but obligingly teetered in the air; the light in her globe slowly pulsed as she focused on her task. After a moment, her flame stabilized and she looked up at Emmet with the same sad yellow eyes as always.

He tried not to let the disappointment show, resting a hand on her glass and quietly thanking her.

Emmet truly didn’t believe he was being lied to; the entirety of the first group had reacted to the sight of him without consulting one another, and two separate members of the second had been familiar enough to acknowledge him in radically different ways. There was no arguing against the fact that they knew someone who looked like him and who bore his brother’s name for godsake-- but he trusted Chandelure’s senses without question.

He had no idea what to make of this, but it was the first solid lead he’d had in months; a small thing like a lack of logical consistency wouldn’t deter him.

His Xtransceiver pinged, informing him that the next leg of the groups’ journey was set to begin.

How nice for them.

They weren’t leaving his twice-damned sight.

---

Drayden had arrived in Nimbasa earlier that morning, and was, in fact, the person who’d requested Emmet’s help to begin with. He was one of several people already waiting in the meeting hall when the largest factions filed in, and was the first to notice something amiss.

He was not, however, the one who called it out.

“Door to door service, huh? Really going Pidove and beyond here.” Elesa said as she sidled up next to Emmet, and, when he failed to respond, puffed a cheek in irritation, “Seriously? Nothing? I spent a whole fifteen seconds on that one-- at least tell me all my hard work shines through.”

Completely ignoring the complaint, he asked, “Are you at all aware of what’s going on here?”

“Vaguely. I’m only talking if you Fess-piquen up, too.”

“No more puns.” He said flatly, not even dipping into the well of fond [exasperation].

“Man,” She said, dropping the pretense, “I thought you were just making sure everyone got in okay, but you sound pissed. What happened?”

“I am trying to understand precisely that.” / “Can you tell me who these people are?”

Elesa hummed, twisting a strand of hair between a thumb and forefinger, “Purple hair-- that’s Melli. The day everyone showed up, we hosted the weird Electrode at the gym, right? He’s the Electrode’s… caretaker or something.”

“Its Warden?”

She snapped her fingers, “Yep, that was it. Kept up with all this talk about a Diamond Clan, so that has to be who he walked in here with. The three up there are from a ‘Galaxy Team’. No idea about the rest. For real, though, why are you here?”

“The leaders immediately began to argue upon arriving at the station.” Emmet said, and Elesa nodded along, following his logic so far, “The Diamond leader believed that I was Ingo. The other insisted that I was not, and that she knew better.”

Elesa’s lips parted as she tried to formulate a response; the best she managed was, “...what?”

He hummed in agreement. “She was correct. To be fair.”

[…]

A great deal of information passed through the various factions, most of it coming from the visitors-- Hisuians-- as the rest of them tried to keep up. At one point, one of the Galaxy people had honed in on a map of Unova and come to the conclusion that the relative positions of everyone who’d been shifted still matched-- that it made sense for Virbank, Nacrene and Opelucid to have received the worst of those displaced because they [corresponded] to Hisuian settlements. The Galaxy Captain had taken to the theory and favored him with an expression that most would charitably call dour, but Emmet had the [experience] to recognize as genuine appreciation.

While the last of the Galaxy representatives was paying enough attention to be an active participant in discussions, she spent most of it tapping frantically at her phone or watching Emmet out of the corner of her eye. Given the reception he’d found from the Pearl Clan, it marked her as someone he needed to speak to as soon as the gathering ended.

“All permanent residents of the village have been accounted for, and most of our stray corpsmen have found their way to our current accommodations; my Survey Corps have actively deployed members to assess the situation.” Cyllene reported, inclining her head shallowly to the teenagers beside her to illustrate the final point. “The Ginkgo Guild are still missing those members who had been traveling at the time. Some have since contacted us, but we can’t speak to the rest.”

Chin resting on one palm, Adaman nodded, “We’ve got a few with us-- some Security Corps, too. Sabi spent the first few days out with Lord Braviary and brought everyone she could back; we’ll compare lists once we’re done here.” He raised his head and gestured vaguely to those gathered behind him, “With our Nobles’ help, the Diamond Clan’s headcount broke even, so there’s no need to worry on our behalf.”

There was a long silence, and then a deliberately even sigh as Irida bit back her frustration.

“The Pearl Clan’s situation is… similar. Several merchants and Galaxy recruits have found a haven in Opelucid City along with my people, but, to address the Avalugg in the room, one of my Wardens is still missing.” She tapped at one of her overlarge bangles and looked to Cyllene, “I’m certain you would have said so much, but it isn’t possible he’s been assisting Galaxy Team?”

“He’s not, I’m afraid; the help would have been welcome, and, doubtlessly, the offer would have been deafening.” The woman’s attention shifted, briefly alighting on Emmet, “Am I to assume the man who accompanied the clans here is not, in fact, Warden Ingo?”

Across the room, Elesa twitched, primed to hear from Irida or Adaman, but not Cyllene, who’d had no contact with Emmet and theoretically no business knowing Ingo’s name. Likewise, Drayden’s gaze moved from the Captain, to Emmet and back again, slowly honing its intensity.

“Subway Boss Emmet received the Diamond and Pearl representatives as a favor to me,” He said, voice deceptively even, “Subway Boss Ingo has been missing for several years, now. Are you implying that you’ve been in contact with him?”

[…]

“I’m aware of the urgency behind all of our [?], Captain, but [speed] can be make or break in a missing persons case, and this lead is already [a week?] out of date.”

“I’ll help you,” Said the Survey girl-- Akari-- standing abruptly from her seat, “Ingo’s my friend, so I’ll probably be able to tell you more-- and that way Cyllene can coordinate who’s where.”

As she spoke, Irida briefly turned to one of her party.

“Warden Calaba will tell you what we know,”  She said, after they’d come to some kind of conclusion, “I’m terribly sorry not to [help], myself, but it’s my responsibility to see to the clans’ safety. I trust each of my Wardens implicitly, and it’s quite likely she can provide more information than I.”

[…]

‘do you know what happened’ idk/c who.

The Warden’s brows raised, and she gave a rueful chuckle, “Seems to me this may not be as productive as we’d hoped. No, I’m afraid Ingo’s arrival in Hisui was a mystery we never traced to its roots-- and if you’re asking me, I have to assume you’re none the wiser, either.”

“He vanished.” Emmet said flatly, “Mid-commute. Nothing unusual registered on the security cameras. He was simply there one moment and gone the next.”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Elesa took over for him, “You said it was instant for you guys, right? It doesn’t seem too out there to think that the same thing could have happened back then.”

“It’s impossible to say. We’re told that one fell from the sky,” Calaba nodded to Akari, who grimaced and hid her lower face beneath a scarf, “But we have no such witnesses when it comes to Ingo.”

“And he was unable to give an incident report?”

“Sinnoh, but you are related, aren’t you? Do an old woman a favor and speak what you mean.”

“He never told you what happened?” Drayden asked smoothly, eyeing Emmet in preemptive warning.

“Can’t say we ever got a straight answer from him. Have you ever thought you were talking to an Unown, only to realize it was an ordinary wall? It was something like that.”

Tightly, Emmet asked, “Because of the way we speak?” and Elesa patted him on the shoulder blade, both [warning] and a comfort.

“Well, it certainly didn’t help,” She sighed and shook her head, tucking her hands behind her back, “It’s not my intention to cast judgment. The first few days were difficult, but I can hardly blame him for that; I never was able to determine whether the problem stemmed from the fever or the head wound.”

“I still think it might’ve been Uxie-- Lake Acuity’s super close to the Pearl Settlement.” Akari put in, nibbling at a thumb nail.

“Stop.”/”What?”

[solomonish]

My Personal Simeon Fall AU Headcanons

These are within the same realm of this fic - and it is intended as a Simeon x MC universe! These HCs will focus on his time in the Devildom rather than why he fell, but maybe that information will come eventually...

*some things regarding this war I keep mentioning may not be entirely clear - still working on that! However, I’ll try not to put out too much contradicting information, hehe!

WARNING: some angst, brief mention/implication of torture. forcibly removed memories.

First Days

He came to the devildom in a blaze, much like the brothers did, hurtling down like a shooting star. At the core, encasing him as his wings charred to soot, was a brilliant light blue, rimmed by a dazzling white and platinum gold. At his impact site, parts of the dirt and stone have crystallized in the same colors. The site is still roped off for investigation.

He fell, acting as a white flag for both sides to signal the end of a war very few people knew was raging. The impact sent the last of his holy energy into the surrounding area, and demons near the sight complained of itching and general irritation for weeks after.

The only people at the site who looked into his eyes when he struggled to get up were you, Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Solomon. A few curious Devildom citizens were scattered about, too, but Diavolo's authoritative vibe kept them too far to see anything.

Diavolo and Barbtos kept him in one room in the castle as he adjusted to the sudden demonic energy inside him and learned to contain his wrath. You were allowed to see him, but only if supervised by Barbatos or Diavolo in case Simeon tried to hurt you.

He was despondent most of the time, sitting curled up and stiff in the middle of the bed that looked untouched. He spent days without sleep, simmering with rage. You never found out if he bottled it up or if he destroyed the room but Barbatos put it back together before you appeared.

(You might not ever learn that some of the methods Diavolo and Barbatos used to bring his memories back were...extreme. They had no intentions of torture or pain, but they desperately wanted to get to them if they could. That’s where his anger was used up - as he screamed out in agony, either from the extraction method or the feeling of having lost everything yet not quite grasping what that meant.)

Satan suggested books and sent some of his personal collection that helped him gather himself when he was created. Diavolo and Barbatos tried to jog his memories, both for personal reasons and to get information on the Celestial realm, but that was exactly why they were gone. His memories had been magically extracted, but haste made him forget most everything instead of just sensitive information regarding the realm.

Eventually, he was free to roam the garden and some hallways, and when Diavolo and Barbatos concluded that regaining his memories was impossible, he was housed.

Power & Standing

He was a powerful angel, so he is a powerful demon, yet not quite as powerful as the brothers.

Simeon, for the majority of the war, was fighting on the side of the Celestial Realm, so he's generally disliked among the citizens of the Devildom. Our cast are all weary around him for multiple reasons - aside from Satan, Beel, Solomon, and MC (obviously).

He isn't an official member of any student council or governing body, nor does he really have a final say in anything, but he does frequently act as an advisor of sorts. He tends to work with Barbatos on that front, discussing in the background anything that might need discussed or worked on separate from the brothers.

Simeon is a wrath demon, though the change in his temper is hardly noticeable at first. He resembles Lucifer in how strict he is, mostly when he is in charge of something, and his anger that releases when he isn't listened to mimics Satan's.

If they are near each other and angry about the same thing, Satan and Simeon can actually feed off of the other's anger and boost their power. Satan does NOT need the boost, but you bet he brings chaos and destruction tenfold is he has it. For Simeon, though, it practically puts him on par with some of the brothers, if only for a short while.

Socially, he is generally ignored, and nobody runs away from him if he initiates conversation - but he doesn't. Simeon turns into a bit of a loner, a large chunk of his personality and memories gone and replaced with anger.

He's still learning how to deal with it.

His demon form consists of black deer-like antlers (not small but just small enough to avoid being entirely cumbersome) and long wings with bone-tipped feathers. His wings are almost always folded against his back and hanging low, the dangling feathers reminiscent of his angelic cloak with the golden charms. He does have a little black deer tail but doesn't like it being commented on.

(Don't worry about aerodynamics or which animal he represents, it's a magical universe its fine uwu)

General Information

He lives in modest home on the outskirts of the Devildom, somewhat close to the castle in case there's some type of emergency that needs to be taken care of but not so close he gets a super nice house and causes some social uproar. He has a small yard and a garden he tends to meticulously.

I imagine the house as a sort of townhouse (although not a for real townhouse because its it's own thing), two stories tall. The downstairs has a small living room, kitchen and bathroom while the entire upstairs is an open bedroom/office type deal. It gives off a gothic cottage type of vibe. No idea if this is helpful so maybe one day I'll build it in the sims.

He keeps his house tidy but has many bookshelves filled with equal parts books and knickknacks.

As stated before, he is a wrath demon, and because of his memories being almost entirely erased, he had a similar fall and adjustment period as Satan. Also, as a writer, he has an intrinsic appreciation for books. He and Satan get along the most out of all the brothers - the fact that Lucifer has mixed (mostly negative)(?) feelings about Simeon makes the deal sweeter for Satan.

Beel doesn’t dislike him, and while he doesn’t trust Simeon yet he’s willing to see if Simeon is on their side now considering none of his family got hurt. Solomon still trusts him though, but he does get a little downtrodden when he has memories that Simeon doesn’t.

When angry, Simeon smiles sweetly but his voice turns dead cold. Whereas Satan goes feral and seeks destruction like a bomb, Simeon feels more like a sniper rifle that needs careful aim and precision with just as devastating consequences. Shouting and immediate carnage are rare and only come after a severe transgression.

Otherwise, Simeon allows himself to be more playful than before. He doesn’t exactly have snide remarks, but he is an expert at stating the truth in a way that feels like a blade cutting through your confidence.

In true "flaunt what ya got without really making it seem purposeful" Simeon fashion, he wears button-down shirts that are almost entirely unbuttoned. They are always patterned and funky, and he wears them tucked into black pants. I'm thinking something like this (he also has patterns that are more "groovy" than vacation)

Will also occasionally sport a deep v like this

He still acts just as naive and confused if you bring up how exposed he is to him, so its best just to suffer in silence.

When making a pact with MC, he makes sure the mark covers a scar he left and doesn't remember from the war on your shoulder. It feels like a longer-lasting apology.

He still calls you "little lamb," but instead of smiling gently at you like a loving shepherd, his smiles look like a predator baring his fangs at his prey. In a sweet way. In a hot way.

What Does He Remember?

At first, nothing. Demonic instinct claws at him and he lashes out at everyone and everything.

He is still a nightmare with technology. Nobody knows if this is residual from how he was before, a result of his memories being taken, or just a trick.

Occasionally, he’ll remember an inside joke, but only halfway. You’ll say something you don’t realize is from before, and he’ll laugh, almost like an impulse. But then his laugh trails off and he gets contemplative, wondering what, exactly, was so funny about it.

The brightness of the Celestial Realm is hard to forget. The rainbow framing the palace and vast fields appear in dreams. He never remembers anything ‘important,’ but it’s enough to remind him that he was discarded.

The Celestial War hasn’t gone away, not in its entirety. There are certain things like battle strategies that he can’t for the life of him conjure up in his mind, but he remembers the bulk of it. It helps him realize why some of the brothers were/are so aloof towards him - nothing was ever as simple as he thought it once to be. Fighting a losing battle isn’t a choice you make when its for love - its simply the only path available.

(Apologies are so, so hard to dish out when you can’t remember most of your transgressions, though.)

He remembers Luke and will worry himself to inconsolable tears at night just thinking about him. Those thrown away don’t get the privilege of knowing what happens to their friends - and even if he did, Simeon wouldn't be so stupid as to put a target on Luke's back by proving that he was still important to him.

But he can only remember Luke's terrified, teary eyes when he realized Simeon was going to turn on the Celestial Realm in the middle of a war, and how he pleaded with Simeon not to. Luke asked what he would do all by himself, and Simeon hopes to his Father for only one thing - that he figured it out.

This is his sore spot. Nobody is allowed to be privy to these thoughts, not even you. But some days he comes to RAD looking worse for wear and you KNOW something is bothering him. He'll just never tell you what.

[mcustorm]

In Defense of a Black Cyclops

In case my username didn’t make it clear, the single most anticipated visual project for me is the MCU’s interpretation of the X-Men, which hasn’t even been announced yet [officially]. And ladies and gents, I have found your Cyclops:

Good ol’ Alfred Enoch, who we all know from Harry Potter and How to Get Away With Murder. If you’re not familiar with HTGAWM, know that his character goes from the de facto leader of the ragtag (murderers) and most cherished protege of Viola Davis’ Professor X to taking more of a grimdark turn after his girlfriend’s death. Sound at least somewhat familiar?

Enoch also embodies the physicality of the character well, seeing as to how he’s “slim”, 6′4(!!), black, and notoriously lanky. Wait, one of these isn’t like the others.

In general I hate fancasting. Everyone generally picks from the same pool of about 30 actors (Peeps, neither Taron nor Daniel is a good Wolverine choice. Argue with your mother!), and most all of it is based on physicality, except when it absolutely should be (like say, choosing a ~5′10 dark-skinned black woman for Storm).

And I think there’s some malarkey afoot. I think there needs to be some serious consideration on part of fancasters and actual casting agents alike to rethink race when it comes to the [white] X-Men, especially since they’re the X-Men of all teams. So I’ll make the case for a black Cyclops: 

1. There is no quota on Black X-Men: There’s a bug in your ear that’s been whispering lies to you for years, it says something to the effect of “We need a black person on the team for diversity. How bout Storm?” And you’ve gotten complacent. Storm does not have to be the only black person on your X-Men roster.

2. The X-Men represent diversity: Iceman is gay, Cyclops and Prof. X are disabled (sorta), there are plenty of women, oh and everybody except Storm is white. Of the A-List X-Men, there is only *one* POC character. I’d argue that an MCU X-Men needs to champion diversity like never before.

3. The X-Men represent minority struggle while being mostly white: There’s a cognitive dissonance in the metaphor that has always been there, and for the most part, nobody cares. To appeal to the white readers of the 60′s, the X-Men were all initially white. That way, the message of the mutants could be related to the audience with a familiar face. We don’t need to approach the problem that way in 202?

4. Just because that’s the way it’s always been, doesn’t mean that’s the way it should be: The first line of defense. Sorry, that will never be a good justification for literally any idea. It’s time for some more critical thinking.

5. We don’t all want to be Bishop: So say you’re white and you have a kid who for his birthday having a costume party. You’ve bought some X-Men costumes and you want each kid to pick one. 9 white kids and one black kid show up to your house. As the kids deliberate who gets what costume, be it Cyke or Wolvie or whatever, you yell at everybody to “STOP!”, point to the one black kid and tell him “You’re gonna be Bishop. That’s it, end of story!” 

We don’t all want to be Bishop. The black child could have the best Cyclops interpretation within him, but you’ll never know if you don’t let him try. And that’s no different from the Black actors of Hollywood. There’s no reason why all of the black talent should *have* to compete for the role of Bishop or Storm, which I’ve discussed, while Joe Schmo can walk up and audition for literally anybody he wants.          

Jharrel Jerome is 23 and has an Emmy to his name. He needs to be in the MCU in some capacity, period. Stephan James is another. How bout Damson Idris. Ashton Sanders. But no, no, let’s fancast Dacre Montgomery or Ansel or Joe Keery again as [Human Torch, Wolverine, Iceman, Angel, I’ve literally seen it all.]

6. Nobody wants to see the B-team if it comes down to it. The next line of defense from your racebending naysayers after “That’s the way it’s always been!” is “Well, what about Psylocke, Bishop, Forge and Jubilee?” who are otherwise known as B-tier X-Men. The problem is, we’ve got limited time and limited spots.

So since the X-Men is all about wonky metaphors that make half sense, let me give you another: Let’s say somebody approaches you and says “Hey buddy, I got two free concert tickets for ya! You can either see Michael Jackson Sings the Blues, or you can go see Justin Timberlake. Free of charge!”

Now, are you used to MJ singing the blues? No! Do you have a problem with going to see Justin Timberlake? No, he’s fine on a Wednesday! He had that one little diddy we liked that one time. We’d love to see him eventually! But are you gonna say, “fuck that, I’m going to see MJ Sings the Blues” regardless? Hell yes, because that’s still Michael Jackson. He’s gonna give the same amazing performance he always does, it’s just gonna be the blues. And speaking of blues...

7. Black is not Blue, Brown is not Blue: Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard this one: “I don’t care if you’re black, white, purple, or green, I’m going to treat you all the same!” I will not say all have this intention, but some fancasters have noticed that the racial diversity is kinda low within the A-List X-Men, so they oh-so-generously give the following roles to a black or brown person: Iceman, Nightcrawler, Beast. 

Notice the pattern? It’s a microaggression, and it’s bullshit. What these fancasters are implicitly telling you is that, yes the actors will be black or brown, but when the action starts we can ignore that. They’ll be blue by then. In other words, you in fact do care if they’re purple or green. Nobody will cry foul if Dev Patel gets to play Nightcrawler (because that’s a common one I see), but should Anna Diop be Starfire or Michael B. Jordan be Human Torch, I bet there’d be backlash. Oh wait. If that’s you, please stop acting like you actually value diversity. You don’t want to see black or brown skin, period. Unless of course, it’s Storm (refer to point #1).

But wait, there’s more! When brown characters get whitewashed in these movies, it’s crickets! So eventually it’s revealed implicitly that proclaimers of point #4 only care about it one way.

8. Professor X should not be black if you’re not willing to change anyone else: The next line of defense is that some people say the professor should be black, if anybody HAS to be racebent. Something something MLK Jr., Civil Rights or some shit. Number one, I’m not reducing Professor X to being a magical negro for 9 white people (and Storm!) who for all intents and purposes get to have all the action. Number 2, the Professor X/MLK/Magneto/Malcolm X comparison is an oversimplifying disservice to ALL FOUR of those people. I hate that line whenever I see it, please watch a documentary my friends. 

9. The Candidates for Racebending: For me, the A-List X-Men are Cyclops, Jean Grey, Iceman, Angel, Beast, Wolverine, Storm, Gambit, Rogue, Colossus, Nightcrawler, and Kitty Pryde. Now, who should be exempt from the racebending? Storm, she’s our designated minority. Gambit, he’s Cajun and they’re white (generally speaking, that’s a fun bit of research). Wolverine, Colossus, and Nightcrawler, because their nationality/ethnicity was the whole point of the Giant-Size premise in the first place. Angel, because his character embodies a privileged white male. Beast and Iceman, I don’t care one way or another (Point #7).

That leaves Cyclops, Rogue, Jean Grey, and Kitty Pryde. Now Jean Grey is a redhead, and we all know that every time a redhead is racebent people sharpen their pitchforks (Mary Jane, Wally West, Iris West), so I will cede the ground on Jean if only so that my ginger friends can get their rep. Kitty Pryde is Jewish, but Jews of color exist. Rogue is from the South. And Cyclops is, well, just Cyclops. That makes those three characters good options for more diversity. But allow me to make the case for Cyclops, specifically.

10. It’s not just diversity for diversity’s sake: If you had to pick who the main character of the X-Men is supposed to be, most would say Cyclops. And so in a series that highlights racial discrimination in society, it makes sense that our main character be black. While changing Cyclops’ skin color should not change who he is as a character, it *should* recontextualize it. Now, as an eventual increasingly radical leader of the X-Men, Cyclops would evoke real life figures such as Colin Kaepernick or, shall I say, Martin Luther King, Jr.

Not that most X-Men fans and writers truly think about what it means to be black anyways. Storm’s minority status is almost always put through the lens of her being a mutant and not her being a black woman. In other words, you can’t argue that making a character black will fundamentally change his or her character when you haven’t even analyzed the racial context of the black character(s) you already have. Another concept that the MCU X-Men should tackle: intersectionality.

11. Representation matters: I have to say it: Chadwick Boseman’s Black Panther hit different. And now he is tragically gone. At the end of the day, the MCU moving forward is down its most prominent black male superhero. Which has implications beyond just the movies themselves.

The women are in good hands. Shuri, Okoye, and Nakia are badasses in Wakanda, Valkyrie is ruling Asgard, Storm is almost assuredly on the way, RiRi Williams has already been cast, and Monica Rambeau is here and she’s not even at her most glorious yet. That doesn’t even include variable Δ, or the number of characters who can and will be racebent. And I’ll note again that to me, Gamora doesn’t count, because she’s green (#7 really pisses me off because it’s so blatant. I hate it). Of course from a behind the camera perspective we love black women getting work.

The men are a completely different story. Imma just go out and say it, I can’t stand Falcon and War Machine [in the MCU] because they’re not characters, they’re just two of a slew of MCU minority sidekicks who have essentially been at the beck and call of Captain America and Iron Man, respectively. You cannot tell Falcon’s story without mentioning Cap. The reverse is not true. There’s a whole essay that could be and have been written on “Minorities in the MCU, pre-Black Panther”. Remember, there’s a reason BP made so much noise in the first place.

So excluding those two we have, let’s see, M’Baku, Blade, and Fury who aren’t exactly the most superheroic superheroes, Eli Bradley is proooobably coming, I doubt Miles Morales is coming (because he’s just Peter Parker in the MCU), Luke Cage(?) Bishop(??), Sunspot(???), Blue Marvel(????). Not only are they not A-List, I would not put money on any of them being in the MCU any time soon.

Cyclops is thee Captain America of the X-Men. He’s the frontman. He’s the poster boy. He’s the “boy scout”, which in other words means he’s the hero, if there has to be one. It would mean a lot right now, and specifically *right now*, if he were to be black. The MCU needs it. It NEEDS it.

12. The X-Men is the Summers Story: I’ll even make the case that if just one character needs to racebent, then it should be Cyclops, because that of course implies that other related characters need to be black because half of the X-Men universe is in fact a part of the Summers family. 

So now Cable is black. Corsair is black. Havok is black. And one of the most central stories in the X-Men mythos, the Summers family drama, is now a black family drama set in space or the future or where the fuck ever. The concept is boundary pushing. When white families have drama in the media, it gets to be Game of Thrones or Star Wars, while when black families have drama in the media, it has to be black people arguing in a kitchen or living room about their various earthly traumas (I’m @’ing you, Mr. Perry). I mean, that’s all fine and good often times, but I want my black family drama in space, dammit.

And again, this is the X-Men, the series that’s all about *minorities* and their struggle, so again, why not?

Oh, and I’ll even throw out a Havok fancast for you: How bout Jharrel Jerome?

[davidmann95]

So… that Superman and the Authority preview. Thoughts?

Grant Morrison: Superman's genuinely made the world a little better, right?

Grant Morrison, writing Superman and The Authority: lol as fuckin' if you chump

Grant Morrison, continuing to write Superman and The Authority: ...okay but what if he COULD still tho

* First note past the OOF of that caption: Ben Day dots! The typically most cliché signifier of 'hey this is like old comics' transformed by being made so near-invisibly small by Jordie Bellaire that they're texturing the page.

* Clearly a product of the original 5G plans, I'd assumed the new explanation for Superman meeting with Kennedy would be the post-Death Metal "everyone remembers everything, it all counts!" idea, but between Superman maybe operating in secret in 1963 depending on how you read that first line and the moon landing seemingly happening earlier this looks to be a full on alt-history. Between that and Superman on October's cover of Action rocking his conventional look alongside the Authority this does seem to be an alternate version of Superman after all rather than the mainline even if it'll tie directly in; I'm fine with that since it'll help this stand on its own as a perennial. Oh god though, is this the Linearverse? Was that Generations book one last mediocre Morrison tie-in setup?

* The both earnest and tragic connotations are clear but I'm simply happy for Superman's good nickname to see some use.

* Anonymous asked: So, I'm NOT an American, but seeing the preview for SatA, I kinda roll my eyes at JFK there. I understand in America there is this mythology about him being so radical and going bring better tomorrow until he was denied to you, which doesn't really match the reality, where he was a cold warrior with reportedly little interest in domestic policy who's sucessor was actually very similar and consistent with his politics (more civil rights, more troops Vietnam). What do you think?

Fair, but besides Morrison's comments in the interview and the ways the Cold War shaped their childhood (as a non-American) as evidence that we're not meant to take this at face value as 'Aw, everything would've been perfect if not for that one thing going wrong', that comment on the JSA is charged. The President waxing rhapsodic about "mak(ing) a difference where the law couldn't" feels just as pointed as "Those poor, poor rich people" in their and Burnham's Detective #26.

* "I want you to stand tall, to end war itself and take us to the stars." "I'll see what I can do, sir." MORRISON PLEASE IGNORE YOUR BEST INSTINCTS AND NEVER STOP WRITING CAPE COMICS

* That this so effortlessly and profoundly captures everything Jupiter's Legacy tried and failed to in three pages - the great patriotic caped champion seemingly on the edge of a new Camelot when we know better, the story from there going into how they deal with the fallout of their failures - would be so embarrassing if it wasn't hilarious to see Morrison outclass the old kid sidekick yet again. Speaking of some Millar-ness, kudos to Janin for pulling off a celebrity likeness that doesn't look like a horrifying other-dimensional freak next to the other characters, that's not something that can always be said for his peers.

* While Janin draws his regular Superman face here, the red-and-yellow S shield on the cape, the pronounced barrel chest, and even the hair a bit (and then seeing him on TV in black and white) make me wonder if Superman's supposed to be visually evoking George Reeves just a bit here. An American golden boy with a tumultuous private life who died on the cusp of the 60s of a gunshot wound to the head, with a quick and tidy official explanation but conspiracy theories haunting his memory forever after, the Kennedy comparisons are obvious; I wonder if I'm not reading too much into it and this is all deliberate, or if this is an inadvertent synchronicity of the sort Morrison would conceive of in magical terms.

* Janin killing it with the assassination page, real Department of Truth vibes and managing to make it sudden and horrific without the gloriously obscene detail Quitely got into with the similar scene in Pax Americana.

* The astronauts doing hurdles on the moon is actually a reference to Superman's Mission for President Kennedy! as he gets kids interested in JFK's physical fitness program in the most roundabout fashions available to him, 'roundabout' being his foremost guiding principle at the time:

* The New Frontier and DKR parallels/evocations are obvious, but to me the big point of comparison is Pax Americana with the Hero-King President marshalling the capes in name of a better tomorrow for his nation only to find death and social impotence, the dream exposed as naïve PR in the end.

* Not exactly new information, but seeing this laid out does reinforce to me how much this book covers the sweep of the development of the superheroic idea through the lens of Superman, from the vigilantes (both the JSA and Superman returning to short sleeves) to the triumphant American science royalty to the post-traumatic superfolks trying to make good on all those lost promises and, at the beginning of this, a generation that has essentially failed (not only Superman, but clearly in his half of the preview Manchester Black isn't exactly the force he once was, and apparently Midnighter and Apollo at the beginning of this are semi-retired and think they've wasted their lives after the original Authority failed to make a difference) and what comes now after that failure. That Morrison can tackle this directly with Superman is probably corporately allowed with Jon being there as a more 'ideal' iconic model, and for Morrison personally because they can do their own purified take on the archetype with Klaus, so they can get into the muck of things here in a way they couldn't when trying to do a platonic vision or a new-and-improved model.

[keouil]

how you forget to be human

“so is she like,” scott hesitates. “cap’s first lady or something?” rated t. 2k+. steve/nat. also on ao3 / twitter / cc

Scott hasn’t been with the team for a long time, but he thinks he at least has enough working knowledge of how everyone operates.

The Winter Soldier—Bucky to Steve,  James to anyone who dared—quite frankly still scares the living shit out of him, and that’s Magneto on a good day. It didn’t take much to deduce he seemed wholly uncomfortable in his own skin, his jaw coiled perpetually tight and the rigid set of his shoulders always in alert. It was uneasy just being around him, his discomfort bleeding over others and charging the air around his space with its own brand of disquieting; but always, without fail, Steve cushioned whatever apprehension anyone aimed toward his bestfriend.

Most of it came from Sam, and almost always in good nature as if to ease the brainwashed supersoldier into some semblance of normality; and Scott would fear for Sam’s life every time he opened his mouth, were it not for the also very obvious fact the Falcon held his own and didn’t appreciate handouts and the three of them seemed to be getting along uniquely (if not a little oddly) well enough.

The witch was a small problem, however. Simply for the fact she was a witch and Scott is wary because history taught him they burned all of them down in Salem. 

He sees her wiggling those voodoo fingers around sometimes, almost unconsciously, and feels the hairs on his arms rise with every flick of her wrist. The energy around her isn’t suffocating the same way Bucky’s is. It was more a subtle nervous tingling; like she herself was afraid of the gravity of her own powers she had yet to have complete reigns on. Scott is oddly humbled by the fact and even empathises with her a little.

Steve keeps an eye on her and doesn’t bother hiding it, but it’s the archer who gets past her when it really counts. Clint Barton, who, surprisingly is the one he’s on the most similar wavelength with out of all of them: family man and all.

Clint Barton whose also friends with Natasha Romanoff.

.

.

.

Hawkeye who has simultaneously the most complex and impossibly simple relationship with Black Widow.

“I swear to god if you ring me up next time you’re out of goddamn Fruit Loops,” Natasha warns, digging through one of the five grocery bags on the kitchen island. She fishes for a few more seconds, before popping a colourful cartoon box out from under the bag and tossing it to Barton. “I’m bringing you in for real.”

Clint scoffs, placing the carton on the top shelf. “How many times have I heard that before?”

“Apparently not enough,” Natasha glares at him from her peripheral, scooping out Nutella and a pack of store-bought pryanik to lay on the table. Russian biscuits. For Wanda. “If I’m still stopping by an abandoned boarding house in the slums of Siberia every other week. Y’all grown men can’t do grocery shopping by yourselves?”

Scott blinks from his spot by one of the stools. 

Of all the things he expected to wake up to in hiding from 117 countries from possible charges of aiding and abetting a war criminal, Black Widow casually arranging and organising their weekly rationale was nowhere near the top of the list. She did this all the while supposedly fighting for the other team.

This one needs no introduction.

Scott knows who Black Widow is. Scott knows Captain America, after all. 

You don’t grow up in the land of the free without knowing his legacy even in minute passing. The man has been plastered on nearly every surface of the continent since the dawn of America. Scott has seen the news footages, read the official accounts, willingly devoured every single documentary or biopic helmed in honour of their nation’s greatest hero: he knows, down to the bone, the star-spangled man with a plan. 

A forgotten and revered and rebirthed war hero. 

How he came to know of her, however, is an entirely different story: because come the news footages, zoom in close enough you’ll see the infamous shield covering a much smaller and daintier figure; go over the accounts with a fine-toothed comb, they speak of a levelled dynamic between a commanding officer and a shadow leader; and, lest history not forget, the documentaries: Peggy, because behind every great man is a woman, Natasha.

“Now why would we do that if we got you?” Sam. He comes up from behind the hallway to playfully grin at Natasha before enveloping her in a small hug. She returns it easily.

Scott braces himself for what’s to come, because they came in a pair, and so: “Nat,” Steven Grant Rogers, in the flesh himself, pokes his head in not a moment later with a barely indisputable frown on his face. “You came here again?”

Natasha clicks her tongue at him. “Someone had to make sure you boys were fed.”

“That’s not— We can—” Steve stutters as he strides in, and Scott has to very carefully school his features into nonchalance because Captain America does not stammer. He sighs deeply before settling next to her, nudging her with his hip. “Tony atleast know you're here?”

Natasha gives him a pointed look. “Who do you think paid for all this?”

.

.

.

Scott watches their silhouettes grow smaller and smaller by the distance.

Even from afar, he can make out Steve’s absolute hulk of a frame: back impossibly straight in a way that bespoke authenticity, years of rigid military training drilled into his bones; only he seemed to mellow, somehow and very slightly, the fine lines of his shoulders angled in the direction of her voice. And Natasha: brave and lithe, nearly a head shorter and so much more smaller, facing forward in full confidence and a leisurely stride in her steps.

Siberia has a biting night air that seeps deep into the bone. But it’s also comforting somehow; all of them knowing, in one way or another, what it was like to be iced out from society. 

They were all huddled by the makeshift campfire Barton fashioned out of some wooden logs and a matchstick. Sam, in charge of roasting marshmallows, was gently coaxing Bucky into eating one and promising him it’s not poisoned. Wanda was handing out steaming cups of hot chocolate brewed from the pack Natasha brought in a few hours ago, a staple in her weekly grocery runs because apparently the kid witch liked sweets. 

Scott gingerly takes a sip from his mug, some of the warmth seeping into liquid courage he was building up for weeks now. He takes a deep breath before plunging himself into the waves.

“I can’t be the only one worried that the enemy has infiltrated our territory, right?”

To their credit, neither of them kill him on sight. 

Wanda pauses in levitating one of the wooden logs above the hearth, a single bark of kindling hovering uncertainly over the air. Bucky has an unreadable expression on his face when he regards him. A look passes between Sam and Clint, betraying nothing of their inner thoughts at his outburst.

The fire is nice and toasty, but the air is stifling now and Scott has never felt more the outsider than at that very moment.

Until Sam breaks into a hearty laugh. “Widow?” he shakes his head amusedly. “No, man, Steve and Nat are tight. They’re past stuff like that.”

Scott furrows his eyebrows in concern. “But isn’t she—”

“On Tony’s side?” Clint quips, poking at one of the planks. Wanda finally drops the floating bark, and Scott doesn’t miss the flash of something in her eyes when she glances at him from the other side of the fire. He thinks he saw a spark of red for a second. “Sure, I guess. Technically she’s Team Iron Man or whatever that means. But Natasha is also fiercely loyal, especially when it comes to Steve.”

“What does that  mean?” Scott asks in genuine confusion.

Sam opens his mouth to elaborate, words already forming on his mouth; before he seems to come to a belated realisation, blinks, and manages a nonchalant shrug. "Damn if I know,” he admits, turning over a puffy mallow and watching the crackles of fire burn its edges. “But she’s good for him. That’s all I care about.”

“And he’s good for her,” Clint returns easily, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. “Maybe sometimes it’s just that easy.”

They hear the crunching of footsteps on snow creeping up behind them, and Scott takes this as his cue to stash the conversation for another time. 

He watches them stroll in together carefully.

Steve holds the gate open for her and places a small hand on her back as they advance in the small patch of woods by the backyard. Natasha settles next to Wanda, hands going up and down her arms to warm the younger girl despite being the one having only just gone out for a walk in the middle of Russian winter: because, and at this Scott is now confident, the jacket resting on her shoulders three times her size was keeping her warm enough.

.

.

.

The quinjet doesn’t start up right away.

Scott is slowly panicking, because the realisation that he was truly out of his depth at fighting in the next greatest civil war of the century notches above his pay grade only viscerally begins to take hold. 

He has a family back home, pets to feed, a little life saving every now and then; but never this colossal of a scale, never with the stakes stacked up so high against them, that it really could only ever be toppled down by the likes of fucking Iron Man and Captain America.

But Steve is still confident.

It’s so bloody obvious he was always going to keep at it, gunned down the concrete walls of the airport and clawed his way out of it brick by brick if need be. He was really and truly the good man underneath it all, and at the back of his mind, Scott still finds himself awed at the fact.

But he doesn’t know how on  earth  the man came out of that airport not visibly rattled, not at all unlike how Scott was currently feeling; and, as he processes the rest of their wayward expressions, he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking so.

“Cap,” Sam wheezes by the floor, fighting to labor his breathing with a hand clutched on his dislocated shoulder. “I still got the jeep parked outside. It’s not too late. We can hike the rest of the way.”

“No,” Steve replies, an edge of conviction in his voice. There is not a single tremor in his stubborn hands gripping the wheel. “That’s gonna hold us back days. We just need to be up in the air for now. We need—”

“A woman to come to your rescue again?”

This time, it’s Scott who sighs in deep relief at her voice. This time, Scott doesn’t fight the churn in his stomach at the prospect of having someone who nearly nicked him lifeless not even hours ago this close a range with them again. This time, she is not Black Widow, but simply Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers’ friend.

This time, Scott thinks, he will let them be easy just like that.

There was no more a sign of tremble in his voice or hands the entire battle, but at the lilt of her voice, he just crumbles. 

“Nat,” Steve breathes out when he turns to her, hands fisting at his sides in an attempt to regain control. Just like that, he unravels; so easily and without preamble in the face of her steeled strength. “I can’t get it to turn on— And I— We have to get Bucky—”

“Work through it, Steve,” she cooes in probably the most placating voice he’s heard of her, but she doesn’t move to touch him when she comes close. Her hands are going a mile a minute over the control panel, pushing buttons and lifting levers. Steve is hovering by her side like it's the only thing holding him together. “You know how to fly this thing, right?”

Steve is visibly taken aback and angles his body to face her. “You’re not coming with us?”

The question hangs in the air.

It charges the silence around them and quells any of their growing uncertainty, because, clear as it was of Steve’s well-founded and undeniable leadership skills: they also knew, intimately, she anchored him through it all.

Sam was putting pressure around Bucky’s human arm as he looked back and forth at them tensely. He could feel Wanda hitch her breath behind him.

Natasha’s fingers keep flying away at the keyboard, until they feel the telling signs of an engine rumbling underneath and the overhead lights spurting back to light. The whole jet roars to life in the next second, heating fans whizzing and technical sounds beeping. She shifts some gears around and locks in a destination with the GPS navigation.

When she turns to look at Steve, it is then Scott forces himself to pry his eyes away and not bear witness to this part of his already over documented life. In that single moment of uncertainty, the what does that mean is meant like this: an intimate baring of a soul, heart, trust: in a way no words could ever begin describing or should even attempt to put to paper. 

It is friendship at the most intimate level, it is soulmates on the most soul-crushing departure, and it is the everything else that comes after.

“Not this time, Rogers,” he hears her say, and Scott doesn’t have to imagine the slight fracturing of his iron-clad footing in the world swaying ever so slightly, when he replies with: “Then I guess I’ll see you around, Romanoff.” .

.

.

“So is she like,” Scott hesitates. “Cap’s first lady or something?”

They’re some seventy feet off the air above the Pacific Ocean, the moisture from the ocean drifting up to the open barracks and making the air glisten around them. Bucky is fast asleep somewhere down the lower levels with Wanda keeping watch over him, upon the fervent insistence of Steve arguing he needed rest. It came as no surprise that he also self-assigned himself the first watch of the night. 

Sam is sharpening his knives, the grating sound of sandpaper slicing over iron piercing through the silent hum and drum of the night. 

“Please,” he scoffs, looking over at him. “If anything, Steve is her first lady.”

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter seven - “the king is dead”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: shuri has awful news. the reader is terrified but bucky is strangely calm. the world is turned upside down, and not in a good way.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this was so fun to write omg get ready it’s finally getting interesting!!! (as always, OC on my wattpad @ / typicaldaze)

Months had gone by since that day at the lake. Countless therapy sessions had been endured, several hard questions asked, many many issues worked through. Bucky suffered through a few more anxiety attacks along the way, but they never hindered his resolve, thanks to (Y/N). They had made progress, good, solid progress. Bucky was pleased; (Y/N) was thrilled. It's hard to see change when you're the one going through it. However, to the person guiding that change, every step forward is recognized. She was proud. She was genuinely proud of him. He wasn’t “fixed,” he still had struggles, but he was a lot better off then before.

There was something peculiar, though. Their relationship was strictly professional, (Y/N) knew that. However, she couldn't help but feel as though along the sidelines of their progress, they had grown to become friends. She knew that, clinically, this was not appropriate, but there were no corporate guidelines she was working under. She was helping him. So, what would it matter if after all this was over, they were friends? What would it matter if his therapist also operated as his friend? Hell, she didn't even have an official therapist position here! Sharon just sent her to help. (Y/N) had decided she didn't care about the boundaries being crossed. Nothing ever went wrong with someone gaining a friend. It's fine.

Regardless, the two of them had thoroughly addressed the anxiety and the PTSD, and he now officially had both diagnoses. He understood himself and his brain so much better, and with (Y/N)'s help, he not only acknowledged his disorders, but accepted them. She taught him to not see them as the enemy, not something that was wrong with him. They were just a part of him, same as his brown hair or blue eyes.

Bucky was so much more open now. He was less on edge and more comfortable, especially around her. In all honesty, he was usually his most comfortable with her. He had coping skills and everything!

This was all grand and good, but (Y/N) hoped with everything in her that it wouldn't be ruined by the present disaster.

-

"I thought he was automatically supposed to be king?" (Y/N) asked, confused.

She was at her weekly meeting with Shuri for Bucky's treatment plan, and the young genius had just told her she couldn't make it next week due to T'Challa's coronation.

"He is," Shuri started, "but it's Wakandan tradition to open the position up to a dual. So, his rule isn't set in stone."

"Oh... What if someone... challenges him?"

"Then they will fight! However, I have no worries. T'Challa is a great warrior, and though I doubt anyone would challenge him, he would win if they did."

(Y/N) admired the faith Shuri had in her brother. She could tell their bond was strong.

"Couldn't you technically challenge him?"

Shuri revealed a kind of devilish smirk that only a sibling can muster. "Oh, I have thought about it. But I am much more useful in my lab, and T'Challa wouldn't know what to do with himself if he wasn't in charge."

(Y/N) looked back on the memory anxiously as she stared in horror at the look on Shuri's face. A wicked mix of fear, grief, and stress drained all the color from the princess' normally dark, beautiful skin. Shuri had always radiated confidence and composure; seeing this change worried (Y/N) deeply.

"The King is dead."

Her face became void of any expression and all she could process was fear. She thought she gasped but she couldn't remember breathing out again. Her brain was frozen. (Y/N) was in a foreign country that just lost its monarch. She was alone, and all the people she was relying on to protect her just had their kingdom invaded and taken over by someone with the word kill as part of their nickname. She was almost certain that this would be her end.

"Dr. (Y/L/N)?" Shuri said unsteadily. "Did you hear me?"

"Y-Yes I... What are we going to do?" her voice was weak and small. Pathetic and afraid.

Then, thoughts of Bucky crossed her mind. What would happen to him? He could fight, she supposed, but he doesn't have any weapons or gear and he'd be against an entire regime. What if they killed him? What if they tortured him? Different scenarios quickly flashed through her brain, but she could only one concrete thought.

I have to find him.

"My family and I have a plan, but we can't take you with us."

Any remaining semblance of hope dissipated from (Y/N)'s body, and she swore she could feel her veins quiver with apprehension.

"What?"

Her voice felt far away.

"It is not ideal, and I'd never leave you unless I had to. But Agent Everett Ross is here. It's a long story, but as you know, he can't find out about Sergeant Barnes. He can't know that either of you are here. If we take you with us, it could compromise everything we've been working for," the nervous princess explained.

"So... what of me and Bucky?"

"Again, it's a long story, but there's a... sort of fallout shelter - I guess you could call it - that was built years and years ago when the first tribes of Wakanda were constantly at war with one another. I will give you supplies and directions, and you two must go there and remain hidden until this is all over."

Fantastic. (Y/N) would get to play Cold War nuclear fallout in Wakanda.

"How will we know?"

Shuri gave her a somber look. A look of uncertainty and immense guilt.

"I wish I could apologize enough, my partner, but I do not know. I promise I will try to contact you as soon as I get any information, but for now we must hurry. We do not have much time."

With that, Shuri took (Y/N)'s arm and quickly led her her outside. It was late afternoon and the air was beginning to cool. They ran, locked together, until they met the Queen under a large tree among the outskirts of a nearby forest. The woman looked just as shaken up as Shuri.

(Y/N) could see bags of different shapes and sizes at the base of the tree. She could only hope whatever was in there was sufficient for survival.

Shuri immediately embraced her mother, but the moment was short lived as she then bent down to gather the bags.

The Queen placed her hands gently on the sides of the psychologist’s face. "I am so sorry, child. This does not involve you in the slightest yet you are swept up in the middle of it."

Shuri handed her mother the bags and they both geared (Y/N) up with all her supplies. It was heavy. Really heavy. She realized she was carrying supplies for two. Then, there was panic.

"What about Bucky?"

"Barnes doesn't know about any of this yet. I thought it best he heard it from you," Shuri expained, "and we cannot afford anymore delays. Us or you. You must go now, tell Barnes what is happening and go. I wish I could be more help, but we simply don't have the time."

(Y/N) nodded, trying to process all the chaos. She was internalizing every bit of it. As a result, she was once again, frozen.

"Dr. (Y/L/N)!" Shrui exclaimed.

Her head shot up, snapped out of it.

"Go! You must go!"

And with that, (Y/N) took off. She had been in Wakanda long enough to know her way around the castle's surrounding land. Her speed didn't last very long as she was carrying for two, but she tried all she could to keep going as quickly as possible.

Eventually she found herself outside of Bucky's living quarters. She didn't know what to do, so she knocked.

An array of different emotions went through Bucky's face. At first he looked pleased, but then he saw the horror etched into (Y/N)'s features, and the bags she was carrying. He could tell something was wrong.

"What happened?" he asked, surprisingly calm, while immediately taking some of the bags from (Y/N). He still only had one arm but that really didn't seem to matter to him.

She was out of breath, face flushed and eyes wide.

"The King is dead," she said breathlessly. "Someone... someone killed him a-and took over."

Bucky didn't look as scared as (Y/N) felt. In fact, he looked... totally fine?  She was so out of it she wanted to curl up in a hole and allow natural death. How was the anxious man she was accustomed to so at ease? The world was flipped upside down and (Y/N) had no control. She wished there was a word stronger than fear because she couldn't even describe what she was feeling.

"Okay," Bucky said, gently taking another bag, leaving her with only one to carry, "What did Shuri say? What do we have to do?"

She shook her head, trying to regain her breath and her composure. "There's um - there's a fallout shelter thing we have to go to. Here."

She handed  him a crumpled up piece of paper that Shuri gave her. A map with directions. (Y/N) knew he would've been better at locating it than she could at that moment.

"Alright," more of the calm voice filled her ears. "Anything else?"

"There are more details, but - we don't have time," she sighed, restlessly. Her voice began to shake ever so slightly. "Bucky, I'm so sorry. We have to go now. I promise I'll tell you everything."

"Okay," he said again. He bent down slightly, looking her directly in the eyes. " (Y/N), we're fine, okay? We're good, and we're gonna be fine. I will get us there. Are you ready?"

She nodded, steeling herself.

Bucky looked at the map, then glanced up in the direction of the shelter. He took (Y/N)’s forearm firmly. She gave him a look, confirming she was ready. And off they went.

[evielallemxnt]

"There are T W O types of secrets: those we hide from others ─ and those we hide from OURSELVES."

have you seen GENEVIEVE 'EVIE' LALLEMENT strolling around central park at lunchtime? rumor has it they’re actually A HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE years old, but i’m pretty sure they’re only TWENTY. they’re currently posing as a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR at LALLEMENT LAW, but when dusk falls, you can usually find them heading home to MANHATTAN by TOWN CAR. apparently they DID attend the met gala this season! @duskintro

* / CHARACTER INFLUENCES: Jake Peralta ( Brooklyn 99 ) + Veronica Mars ( Veronica Mars ) + Nancy Drew ( Nancy Drew ) + Claudia ( Interview With The Vampire ) + Rebekah Mikaelson ( The Originals )

* / ANTHEMS: PRETTY SAVAGE | YOU MADE A MONSTER | 7 RINGS

*** PENNED BY BRI FOR DUSKFELLHQ ***

FULL NAME: GENEVIEVE "EVIE" LALLEMENT

FACECLAIM: Savannah Lee Smith

AGE: 20 ( estimated @ time of changing ) physically | 135 mentally

SEXUALITY: Lesbian

PRONOUNS: She/her

POSITIVE: Intelligent, charming, loyal, brave.

NEUTRAL: Spontaneous, trustworthy, daring, cocky

NEGATIVE: Impulsive, self-destructive, snide, and Machiavellian.

ELEMENT: Fire.

MBTI TYPE: ENFJ.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

AESTHETIC: Breakfast at Tiffany's, fine tailoring, diamonds and pearls and rubies, late-night bubble baths with red sangria, Chanel No.5, bubbly stocked fridge, penthouse parties, drinks @ The Blond, exclusive social club, wigs and disguises, sly smiles, bad decisions, midnight sleuthing, gossiping until dawn, closets filled with Birkins, eyes that hold secrets, smudged lip gloss, devilish temptations

TW: Death, dying, blood

* / BIOGRAPHY: The history of Genevieve Lallement is a tricky one. If you ask her, she became a creature of the night in some whirlwind fashioned tale filled with love, betrayal, and sacrifice -- all the makings of a heart-clenching closed shut story. But the reality? That's much more of a mystery.

Her genesis is one filled with darkness. No memories. No family. No nothing. The only solace coming in the form of her sire -- Cassius. He saved her from a fever that took many in late 19th century England and told her as much as he knew. That he had found her bedridden and sickly in a run-down isolation ward where patients were sent to die more than to be cured. Apparently, she had reminded him of a sister he’d once lost and he acted on an inner impulse to save an innocent. The staff had told him that she had admitted herself under what they proved to be an alias, so there was no way to notify family or even prove she existed.

She was a ghost. Alone in the world. And dying.

So, he gave her new life. Eternal life.

When she’d awakened from the transition, the ripe young vampire found herself unable to remember, well... anything. It was as if the transformation erased everything human about her, wiped her slate clean as she re-entered the world as someone else. Something else. Cassius said that vampirism isn’t a perfected process. There are some ailments that the immortal blood which now ran through her veins can’t heal. By the time he’d found her, her mind had already been overcome with the sickness that was moments away from snuffing her out completely. To drag her back from the depths of near-death, she had to lose some parts of herself along the way. There were some upsides, though. She clung to Cassius like a newborn, and he grew to coddle her as if she were his own. Being inducted into the Lallement family allowed her to see a world that was previously unattainable as a mortal having had come from the dregs of England. He’d brought her to New York at the turn of the century, and it was a sight to behold as she realized…this was HOME.

As the decades passed, the new Lallement glided through life. The adjustment to vampirism wasn’t as hard as it probably was for others. Sure, she had her hiccups, but it was almost as if the lack of memories helped. There was no other way of living for her to remember or to acclimate from. In some ways, there was no true loss. Her new family filled the voids ( even helped her pick out a new name ‘GENEVIEVE” ) showered her with endless love ─ and the bloodlust helped pick up the slack. For a while. As an immortal, it is easy to become distracted by the power, privilege, and play that is now bestowed upon you. But eventually, the semblance of loneliness and eternity creep in. For Evie, it was plaguing thoughts of the unknown that haunted her. Did she have a family when Cas took her away? Did they look for her? Mourn her? Soon all she could think of was the possibility that they somehow survived the plague and managed to continue on. This led her to try to trace their footsteps back to the town Cassius found her in to look for anything, any semblance of a clue that pointed to her previous human existence. Only for Evie to be faced with the harsh reality that the one hospital in town, the very town she’d believed herself to have been raised in, had burned down not long after they’d fled. Along with the patient records. Any possibility of tracing back her roots had been destroyed in a reckless accident and something in Evie c r a c k ed. Never again to be fully healed.

But if anything, she’s a survivor. Evie turned her sadness into something productive, going on to study criminology and criminal justice in the ’70s and '80s, along with a myriad of other majors she probably got too distracted to finish. Evie figured, if she couldn’t figure out the mystery of her own life, then the least she could do is help others figure out the mysteries in theirs. Becoming a private investigator sort of just happened, but it soon became her life’s joy. Piecing things together, going on recon missions, and doling out the truth was something that Evie not only excelled at but truly found fulfilling. At least ─ during the day. When the sun goes down, she resorts back to her party-girl ways, needing to find some sort of entertainment as a method to keep herself distracted. Because, you see, the only thing Evie hates most in the world is being by her lonesome. It leaves time for that inner sadness and loss to come creeping back in, to remind her that there’s nothing in the world to truly call her own. That the Lallement name is a placeholder for the truth. And that’s the one truth she cannot face.

So, she parties, boozes, pushes the limit because she has none, and there is always a need for M O R E. Because boredom is never on the menu. And when the town car arrives eventually to take her back to Manhattan, merely a few hours before she must be up for work, Evie revels in the few minutes of silence and thinks ─

‘Another day down. Only an eternity to go.’

* / PERSONALITY: Evie is, more than anything, fun. She likes to have a good time and to look good while doing it. Sure, her deviousness occasionally gets her into more trouble than intended, and in some ways, her childlike need to be paid attention to can be exhausting to people, but she is not all play. Evie truly enjoys being an investigator and will isolate herself for days, weeks even, if that means cracking a case. Her job and lifestyle have been carefully cultivated to always keep her busy so the facade can stick. No one knows about her growing concerns with the idea of unlimited time or the feeling of wanting a connection with someone -- anyone. Evie doesn't really give into supernatural politics or bias, and her ruthless side only comes out when hangry or when you threaten someone she loves. Then it's all-out chaos.

* / FUN FACTS:

She's gone to college several times and has studied many things but only holds a degree in Criminology and Interior Design

Currently paying a witch to figure out a way for vampires to get tattoos

Obsessed with all things horror and true crime

Officially identified as a lesbian in the late '60s

Has two poodles named Khaleesi and Drogon

Manhattan PD knows her by name

* / WANTED CONNECTIONS:

SCOOBY GANG/HARDY BOYS/7 RINGS - These are her people, her confidantes, her ride or dies. Can be supernatural or human, mortal or immortal. Whether they met decades ago or the night before, tipsy, in the Cosmopolitan bathrooms, they instantly clicked and have been loyal to each other ever since.

ROOMMATE(S) - Evie lives in one of the many ritzy buildings Manhattan has to offer. While having an entire floor to yourself has its benefits, it can feel quite isolating. So, the vampire opened up her doors to allow in some roommates -- free of charge!

ASSISTANT - As a private investigator, sometimes certain cases can become quite tedious. While her work rarely ventures away from mild cases Cassius needs help with, Evie does also take cases from anyone who needs help. Keeping everything organized, going with her on recon, and even offering their own input and theories is what they provide for her.

PLAYTHING - Now Evie isn't evil, she doesn't play with people's emotions ( at least not intentionally ) but she does indulge in the power and influence that comes with vampirism. Not only would this person be someone to go to for the occasional midnight snack ( where they're the snack sowz ), Evie would also indulge in their life. Making sure they're well taken care of, listening to the things they're going through, and being there for them whenever they need her.

FOES/ENEMIES - When you live forever you might make an enemy or three. Evie has ruffled a few feathers over the past century, that's for sure, and she has no problem continually poking the bear if she finds herself bored enough to do so.

also: literally anything else pls plot with me i'll send you kit kats and a coupon for a free taco.