#despite knowing how smooth it can be when you have drones n shit

[foxstens]

SLIME RNACHER 2 IS THE BEST GAME EVER

[peachbear88]

If I Could Tell Her

A/N: Wow! Another song-inspired one-shot. "If I Could Tell Her" - Ben Platt. Also, this is a high-school AU.

Word count: 2,411

Wanda x Reader

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

"Yo, Y/N! Heads up!"

Your head whips around and you duck, moments before the football hits your face. Steve jogs towards you, scooping up the ball. "What happened? You get distracted by something you like?" He gestures to the rafters where at least a dozen girls sit, watching you with beady-eyes. "Who's that over there?" You ask, pointing to a girl sitting under the large willow tree. The sunlight seeped through the branches of the tree, hitting her auburn hair perfectly. She looks up and the two of you make eye contact. You turn away, blushing. "The girl under the tree?" You nod, unable to form coherent words. "That's Wanda Maximoff." Your eyes widen as you turn to gape at Steve. "As in...?" He nods sadly. "Yep. She hasn't been the same since Pietro died." Pietro Maximoff, former captain of your football team. Former, since he died in a horrific car accident. You didn't know he had a sister. Steve pats you on the back before running back onto the field and you prepare yourself for the ball, all while your mind is whirring from the person that is Wanda Maximoff.

-------

You spend the next few weeks observing her and her habits. With the big game coming up soon, you’re soon overwhelmed with practice but you still make time to watch over her. She enjoys eating lunch under the willow tree instead of the cafeteria, she shares at least 3 other classes with you and she spends her break periods in the library. You're watching her one day as she picks out a book and a hand taps you on the shoulder. "Jesus!" You jump, only to find Tony standing behind you. "Taken a liking to little Miss Maximoff eh?" He chuckles as you slap the back of his head. "Don't worry, I won't tell." He winks before slipping out of the library, leaving you to your own devices.

-------

"Alright class, we're switching up our partners!" You and about half the class groan as Steve grabs his bag, waving goodbye at you. You look at the seating chart he left behind scanning it until your eyes land on your name. You do a double take as you read the name beside yours. Wanda Maximoff. Your heart is pounding when she slips into Steve's old seat. You slap a perfect grin on your face before turning to her. "Hi." She ignores you, continuing to unpack her bag. You frown a little before resuming your efforts to start a conversation. "It's not very polite to ignore people." You tease cheekily, earning you a glare. "I know who you are. Piet would ditch me just to talk to you." Your smile falters. "I'm sorry about Pietro." She scoffs. "That's what everyone says. You didn't do anything. It's not your fault he's lying six-feet under." Your fingers rap against the wood of your desk as your teacher drones on about the Pythagorean theorem, wracking your brain for a way to appease her. “He talked about you a lot." You whisper and you see Wanda's prickly attitude dissipate. "He did?" You nod enthusiastically. It's a white lie. No harm no foul. From that moment onward, she seemed a lot less cold and even invited you to her house on Friday.

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

Friday rolls around and the butterflies in your stomach have formed a mosh pit. Steve and Tony spend the day teasing you relentlessly as you fidget, your mind kicking into overdrive. Wanda meets you after school and you hitch a ride to her house. "This is it." She gestures to a small suburban house before pushing the door open. The smell of cinnamon and tea leaves hits your nose as you enter. "Mom, I'm going upstairs with Y/N!" She calls out before racing up the stairs. You pause for a moment as Mrs. Maximoff beckons to you, wiping her hands on her apron. You approach her and she gives you a soft smile. "I've never seen my daughter so happy. Whatever you said, thank you." You smile. reassuring her that it was nothing before hiking up the winding stairwell. By the time you reach the top of the stairs, Wanda has already gotten comfy on her bed, clicking through different movies. "Hey. What took you so long?" She teases, patting the empty spot next to her on the bed. "You have a lot of stairs." You reply defensively, plopping down next to her. She stares at you in disbelief. "You're on the football team and you struggle with stairs?" You glare at her. "I have a fear of them okay?" She looks at you, her lips pursed before bursting into laughter. "You- Fear of stairs? Wait 'till Rogers gets ahold of that." She gets out in between giggles. You gently slap her arm but you can't help but join her in laughing. She wipes the tears of joy from her eyes. "Thank you. I haven't laughed like that in a long time." You smile at her, slipping your arm through hers and resting it on her waist. She stiffens and for a moment, you think you went to far but she covers your hand with hers and leans against you. "What do you think of this show?" She asks, turning to see your response. You shrug indifferently as she starts the show but inside, fireworks explode and you do a little celebratory fist-pump in your mind.

-----------

The next few weeks are a bliss, save for the terrifying shadow of the upcoming game. Wanda's presence alleviates the terror and of course, Steve and Tony constantly tease the two of you as she eventually starts hanging out with you more during school hours. The day of the game comes crashing down. Throughout the day, you're palms are sweating and despite all the smiles and reassuring hand squeezes you receive from Wanda, you're still sweating buckets.

-----------

"Are you ready?"

You're clutching the guitar so tightly that you're sure it will snap.

"Yeah, I got this." You manage to say as Steve gives you a small hug.

"Good because the cheer team is done and they're calling you up." He whispers before shoving you into the school's football field. You stumble, glaring at him before jogging towards the principal who agreed to your surprise performance. Your eyes scan the crowds of people until they land on Wanda, who's cheering like crazy, little blue and green stripes painting her face. You smile in spite of yourself before talking to microphone from the principal. "Hi everybody. I uh... Before the game starts I just wanted to do a little gesture for somebody. A special somebody." You stutter, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead as hundreds of eyes stare at you expectantly. You take a deep breath before strumming the guitar gently.

"He said,"

"There's nothing like your smile, sort of subtle and perfect, and real."

"He said,"

"You never knew how wonderful that smile could make someone feel."

"And he knew,"

"Whenever you get bored you scribble stars on the cuffs of your jeans."

"And he noticed,"

"That you still fill out the quizzes that they put in those teen magazines."

"But he kept it all, inside his head."

"What he saw,"

"He left unsaid."

"And though he wanted to,"

"He couldn't talk to you."

"He couldn't find the way."

"But he would always say,"

"If I could tell her,"

"Tell her everything I see,"

"If I could tell her,"

"How she's everything to me."

"But we're a million worlds apart."

"I don't know how I would even start."

"If I could tell her."

"If I could tell her."

"He thought,"

"You looked really pretty, er uh..."

"It looked pretty cool when you put red streaks in your hair."

"And he wondered how you learned to dance like all the rest of the world isn't there."

"But he kept it all inside his head."

"What he saw, he left unsaid."

"If I could tell her,"

"Tell her everything I see."

"If I could tell her,"

"How she's everything to me."

"But we're a million worlds apart."

"I don't know how I would even start."

"If I could tell her."

"If I could tell her."

"But what do you do when there's this great divide?"

"And what do you do when the distance is too wide?"

"And how do you say,"

"I love you?"

"I love you."

"I love you!"

"I love you..."

"But we're a million worlds apart."

"I don't know how I would even start."

"If I could tell her."

"If I could..."

You strum a final chord, taking a deep breath before the crowd bursts into applause. You see Wanda, her hands covering her mouth and although she's too far away, you can almost make out the tears pricking her eyes. "Let's give it up for Y/N Y/L/N!" The principal roars before beckoning to the rest of the football team. "Now for the Westview Buffalos!" You fall in line with the football team, cramming the helmet onto your head and pretending not to see the confused glance Steve sends your way.

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

Your team wins the game by a landslide and as you all hustle into the changing room, Steve and Tony pull you aside. Tony is the first to confront you on your romantic gesture. "Damn, that was smooth! You gotta teach me how to do that." Steve on the other hand has his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he shoves Tony to the side. "I thought you said you didn't know Wanda was Pietro's sister before I told you?" You're about to answer when you see a familiar flash of auburn hair and you feel a cold blanket of dread wrap around you. "Shit." You mutter, shoving your two friends out of the way. "Wanda!" You sprint after her as she runs through the corridors of the school and into the parking lot. You manage to corner her at her car. She turns to face you, tears streaming down her face. "You liar!" She screams and you flinch. "You told me he talked about me! You told me he cared! You told me he..." Her voice falters before cracking. "You told me he noticed me." She whispers and your heart shatters. You step forward, attempting to hold her hand but she wrenches it away before gets into her car. "Don't ever, talk to me again." She snarls before speeding off into the night. You slowly fall to your knees. This was all your fault. You tried to repair her heart but instead, you smashed it apart, stepped on it and damaged it beyond repair.

---------

The next few days are spent with her avoiding you and you avoiding Steve and Tony. You continue to watch her from afar, making sure to not make yourself known. You're watching Wanda read under the willow tree when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It's Steve. He plops down next to you and before you can get up, Tony sits down on the other side of you, sandwiching you in between them. "Y/N..." Steve starts but you cut him off. "Steve, I already heard the whole spiel. I know what I did was wrong but I just wanted her to be happy." Steve slaps a hand over your mouth. "Let me finish. What you did was wrong but there's something you're missing." You raise your eyebrows as you gently lick his fingers causing him to swiftly remove them from your mouth. "Oh ew! Don't do that!" He shrieks causing you and Tony to laugh. "Then don't put your hand over my mouth." He rolls his eyes. "Anyways, she was genuinely happy when she was with you. She really loved you." Steve says, casting a sad glance at Wanda who was completely oblivious to the trio. "You have to make it up to her." Tony remarks wisely, giving you a gentle pat on the back before he and Steve leave.

-----------

You spend the rest of the day walking around in a daze, a plan formulating in your head.

--------

A pebble hits Wanda's window causing her to stir in her sleep. Another one hits the window and she groans in annoyance. At least 3 more pebbles hit the glass before she gets up, ready to give the culprit a piece of her mind. "Alright, I've had it!" She exclaims as she pries her eyes open but her rant slowly dies away in her throat. There you are, standing on her front lawn, a small pile of pebbles next to you. "Oh good. I thought I was going to have to use all of these." She snorts and goes to close the window but your desperate cry stops her. "Wait! Please let me explain." When she doesn't close the window, you out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "What I did was wrong." She scoffs but doesn't say anything. "I wanted to ease the pain but I just ended up hurting you more. That song, he may not have noticed all those things but I did." Her harsh glare softens a little and in that moment, you allow yourself a little hope. "You may be hurt right now but I want to be the one that gets to love you, the one that gets to care for you, the one that provides a safe haven for you. The one that you can let inside your walls. I hurt you and I know it will take some time for you to recover but I will wait for as long as you need." You pause, gauging her reaction before continuing. "Will you please, give me a chance?" The small ball of hope growing inside you is instantly crushed when she closes the window. You sigh before trudging back to your car but you stop in your tracks when you hear a familiar voice. "Y/N!" You whip around to see Wanda running straight at you, a blazing look on her face. Your first thought is that she's going to tackle you and beat you up but instead, she launches herself at you and wraps you in a tight embrace. You melt a little as you wrap your arms around her. "I'm willing to give you another chance." She whispers and the butterflies inside you explode with joy. You pull away from her to stare into her deep emerald eyes. "Thank you." You mutter before leaning forward and meeting her halfway in a gentle kiss under the stars.

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WOAHHHH!!! DAMN!!!!! Another one-shot! I really, really like writing one-shots now... Maybe I'll do some more highschool AUs. I'm personally, pretty proud of this one.

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife

[soramel]

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

Part 1

jjkxreader Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 1.5k approx. Part 1/5

“You coming tonight?” your friend, Jimin, queried. The air’s getting colder these days. Gone were the colors of autumn that used to cover the path you’re taking and only left with the cold wet pavement.

You shrugged, “I have reports to finish.”

Meaning a netflix series you have to catch up on in the comfort of your couch. You were already deciding if you should order chicken wings or just go with a hot choco. Maybe ramen... you might need to stop by the store for kimchi. You’ve ran out last week.

Jimin whined, “Again? I thought you just finished the other day? Isn’t it finals in two weeks?” he knew you’re not just up for any party. He barely hitched you up on one, but he thought you’d give it a try, considering you’re a semester away from graduation in two weeks time. 

“That also. It’s the finals,” you wittingly replied. Then faked a complaint, “Ugh, there’s too much to catch up on. I want to graduate already.”

You turned to him and gave out a sheepish smile, “Here’s my building. I’ll join you guys next time! Bye!”

It was a good call. It has been raining cats and dogs for hours. The heavy rain droned out the city’s noise outside your apartment and nothing could be more perfect right now with you and your laptop and a can of beer at hand. 

The sky lit up with lightning followed by a loud rumble of startling thunder.

In a blink, a shadowed figure appeared beside your bed. You yelped in surprise.

Out of instinct you threw him whatever you’re holding. He didn’t flinch and you just watched as the fedora hat fell off his head, revealing a set of unruly curls covering his eyes.

You gasped, hands covering your mouth.

The stranger’s eyes fell shut in annoyance at the sudden beer facial wash. 

Before he could even speak, you shouted, “Who the fuck are you?!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m calling 911!”

You questioned and threatened. Words coming out in spitfire. 

He patiently wiped the stinking liquid off his face then taking a look at his watch while you dial for the police. Only then you realized you lost grip of your phone before even pressing the green button. 

You tried to pick it up only to stare in horror as your hand went through. 

You stared back at the strange man while you took everything in. He’s wearing a black trench coat, black gloves, and black combat boots. A character straight out of steampunk. 

He let out a sigh and a forced smile. 

“You’re early,” said the man with a hint of amusement. 

“I just received your death notification while fetching a soul. He made a fuss and we had some problems so, apologies for being late.”

Is he crazy? A psychopath? A stalker?

“Ah, how rude of me. Jeon Jungkook. Your grim reaper, at your service.”

You’re beyond shock. 

You thought you needed to be sent to a mental hospital for even believing whatever the freak is saying right now. 

He raised his finger and sighed before pulling out a tablet under his coat. It’s as if he has done this a thousand times as he nonchalantly fed you information you couldn’t grasp.

“L/N, Y/N. Your cause of death should be of old age at 93 on August 10, 2090.”

Cocking his head to the side, “I need you to come with me to the headquarters so we can settle this.”

You gaped in utter shock.

“I’m dead?”

Jungkook nodded, “Yes. You had a car accident while crossing Adelaide...” he paused and swiped on his gadget, “1 hour and 2 minutes ago.”

You were about to speak when he held up his hand. “I know you have a lot of questions, but we need to get going. My shift’s ending in 0:00 and I still have one soul left to fetch today.”

In a daze, you stood up and followed him outside your apartment. The elevator dinged as it opened. He flashed his bunny-like smile and gestured towards the lift. 

“After you,”

You walked meekly, unsure whether this is some kind of prank being pulled by Jimin. Is he his friend? Is this your punishment for ditching him nth times in a row? 

Jungkook stepped into the elevator as you look for cameras. Your run-down apartment has none. 

Then the lights inside flickered, making you jolt. 

Ding!

The doors whooshed open only to find yourself in a grand bedroom. Wails of grief from the family rung through your ears as you followed his footsteps, still out of your sanity.

An old man’s body is laying on the bed, with the machine showing a flatline on the bedside. Jungkook wore off his fedora as he greeted the old man who’s staring at his grieving family.

“Sir. It’s time.” he informed solemnly. The man turned to you his eyes flashed with understanding. He stared up to Jungkook and nodded, accepting his fate. 

You pursed your lips as you held onto nothing but your hands. As Jungkook opened the bedroom door, you three were led to a neighborhood, outside of a mansion. 

There’s a car waiting. Jungkook held the car door open for him. With a last look at the house, he silently rode the car. The door falling shut after. 

You were speechless. This...

isn’t a prank.

You’re dead. 

--

“That was fast,” Jungkook said, sounding happy. “Ah I love fetching old people sometimes. Smooth as butter,” he told himself as he dust off his hands out of habit.

When he turned to you, his nose crinkled in light disgust. 

“Come with me,” he ordered.

You followed suit and couldn’t even utter a word. Barely understanding what’s happening. 

A minute of silence passed as you walked down on the neighborhood. 

“I’m not supposed to be dead, right?” you asked, remembering what he said earlier.

You watched the back of his head bob up and down. “That’s why I’m bringing you to the headquarters in Jongno district. You’re my first odd case,” he explained.

“How... how would I live? When I don’t have my body anymore?” you walked up to him. Stopping him from taking a step further.

“Shouldn’t we get my body first?” you asked, frantic. He just stared back at you and replied, “And what? Hide it in a fridge?”

“I don’t even have one in my house,” he followed then continued walking.

You felt utter frustration. It’s unfair. Extremely unfair. They did some kind of mistake then now you have to suffer. What kind of shit are they on to?

“But I wasn’t supposed to die! As you said!” you yelled at him. Tears welling up in your eyes. 

He stopped and turned back to you. He looked around and grabbed you by the arm. Jungkook walked towards a door and went in and as if there’s a sudden shift, quite of a whiplash, you exited to another door leading to another neighborhood. 

He didn’t stop walking and you tried your best to stop him as he just moved forward despite the cobblestone wall ahead of you. 

In a blink, you were led to a white-washed hall. Endless counters like those in a bank with red digital numbers on top of each one. 

He didn’t let go of you as he tapped on the self-service queue machine. 

A receipt is printed, a ding heard, then you were being dragged again 10 counters down the hall. 

His pissed off face were gone in a second as he flashed his friendly smile on the lady behind the desk. 

“Jungkook! It’s been 3 Julian years!” she greeted enthusiastically.

Then inquired right away, “Another stubborn soul?” 

She turned to you, and ranted on “Oh poor young lady, no need to worry. You’ll be reincarnated after passing the 7 trials! 49 days if you’re a noble soul but that’s 1 in a million traveling the afterlife. You’ll just spend a decade on average! We have a long queue at the gate, you see. You should fall in line now.”

She talked out in one breath then turned to the arrogant grim reaper, giving out a wink as if she just solved a problem for him.

Jungkook shook his head and leaned on the counter. “She’s not supposed to pass yet. Here,”

He took out his tablet and showed your profile. The lady frowned before another “Oh,” in surprise passed her lips.

She then swallowed and feigned a smile. “I have to call a higher up for this. Give me a sec.”

The lady dialed something on the telephone and spoke, “Sir, we have a case 3 here.” 

“Understood.”

She looked up at both of you after the call. The door to your left opened as she let you in. 

“Follow me,” she said in her top-notch customer service tone.

You were lost after a series of turns and doors and lifts. 

At another turn around the end of a hallway, you saw an intricate carved-out door at the other end. 

The lady knocked before the knob clicked open.

[putas-in-suffering]

Expensive Taste

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Escort!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, daddy kink, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, pretentious bitches, Miguel being Daddy, Miguel liking being called Daddy (its an important distinction)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Part 2. It’s Monday night’s gala and you decide to make a dull event interesting.

A/N: Sucias! Here’s a second part to our Miguel/Escort saga. You can read the first part here. This is turning into a bit of a series between Miguel and our escort and we are not mad at it. We’ve got at least two more parts written out for this duo so we hope you guys are as thirsty for Cartel Daddy as we are because we’re ready to deliver the goods. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

**We added a Part 3! Read it here.

You laughed to hide the disgust, discreetly rolling your made-up eyes in response to the dull droning’s of some Stepford housewife. She was blonde with capped teeth, the fillers in her lips making her look more like a platypus rather than a human. Despite her cheerful attitude, you could tell she was critiquing you…eyeing you with concealed disdain. You were no stranger to those expressions. People often judged you for many different reasons. Tonight, it was because of who you came with.

Miguel had been whisked away from your side, most likely to discuss business. You were enough of a professional to keep yourself busy. Stay hidden, but seen. Engage, but don’t bring attention to yourself. You were there for looks and nothing else. But Tina had trapped you. Talking your ear off about Botox and country clubs and her quaint vacation spots to a little resort across the border. You inwardly cringed at that. The elite loved to talk shit on the country south of the border, but were the first to book first class tickets to experience “the culture”.

You felt a light touch to your arm and tried not to jerk away as Tina questioned you with a silent gaze.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, sipping on your champagne as you did. The one good thing about these galas was the booze. Always top notch.

“Your dress…where did you get it? It’s so…daring.”

The insult was clear. Poorly hidden within the high-pitch of her sickly sweet voice. You only smiled, having played this game with many women throughout your life. If you had to guess, Tina had been married to her husband for ten plus years. They probably had a couple of kids. She probably took care of those kids, letting her husband work and fuck someone else in peace. She probably did yoga three to four times a week, thinking it would keep her husband around. She did the same with the Botox and fillers. Most likely having a little nip and tuck too. She was pathetic. A dime a dozen in this godforsaken social circle. You didn’t know if you could blame her. But you sure as hell weren’t giving her a free pass either.

“Thanks. I was going to go for something more conservative, kinda like yours. But I realized I’d rather Miguel actually want to fuck me tonight.”

Her face went hard, mouth open in shock at your blatant dig. You kept the smile on your face, even when Miguel saddled up next to you, interrupting your caddy interaction. Tina’s husband joined her as well, his eyes sweeping up your figure in a not so discreet fashion.

“Having fun?” Miguel asked, no doubt feeling the tension between you and the other woman. His hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh. He was signaling you, letting you know he knew what game you were playing and he wanted you to wrangle it in.

“Absolutely. I was just telling Tina where I got my dress from.” You addressed the group, enjoying the way the man and woman eyed you. She with contempt. He with lust.

“You want something like that, honey?” The man asked his wife, the childish excitement practically spewing out of his pores.

“She’d look great in it.” You insisted with a devious smile, catching the way Tina pursed her overinflated lips at you. “Just a tip though…you can’t really wear any underwear with this dress so I hope you’re okay with that.”

You swore you saw the husband pop a boner right there while Tina seethed and twisted her face in disgust.

Wench.

Miguel tugged at your arm, clearing his throat and effectively ending the conversation. “Excuse us.”

You followed him as he led you out the glass doors and onto the terrace. It was deserted, the life of the party contained within the walls of the hotel ballroom. He was mindful of your heels, pulling you along but not forcefully. Though you were sure that had more to do with the lurking eyes rather than any form of chivalry.

“Was that necessary?” Miguel questioned, bringing you to a stop in a dimly lit corner.

You could hear the soft melodic tune of crickets over the heinous shit they were playing inside. The cool breeze swept over your skin, soothing the heat that had begun to stir, both from the alcohol and your tense interaction with Tina. You let your gaze take in the man before you. Take in the perfectly coiffed hair, the designer suit, the angular jaw, the intense dark eyes. He was attractive no doubt, which made your job all the more easier.

“She started it.” You retorted, trying hard to keep the smile off your lips. You knew he wasn’t happy with your little display, but he also wasn’t showing that anger outright. He found it amusing. You could see the glint in his eyes.

“I bet she did.” His gaze swept your figure, taking in all the dips and curves. He’d remarked on how beautiful you looked when he’d picked you up earlier in the evening, but now…now he was looking at you as if you were a very expensive steak on a silver platter.

The dress was a soft ivory color, the fabric delicate and beaded. It was sheer, but the nude paneling underneath kept you from exposing any body parts. It was fitted to your figure, the strapless sweetheart neckline doing wonders for your décolletage. It had a slit up the side, but you’d made sure it wasn’t too high. The illusion of nudity was shocking enough. And Tina was right. It was a daring dress, but it encompassed everything you needed it to. Money. Sex. Poise. And you looked damn good in it. It was a physical testament to your working relationship with Miguel. It was shocking. A hidden scandal all dressed in crystals and jewels.

It was amazing what people in this town would turn the other cheek for. Whether some or all knew of your association with Miguel you’d never know, but if you had to take a guess…they probably treated it like his occupation. Coveted but never acknowledged.

“She looked at me like a whore.” You defended. You stepped into his space, abandoning your champagne glass on the ledge of the balcony. You took his own glass and did the same with it, freeing up his hands.

He smirked at your words, the expression sending a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core. “Aren’t you?”

He was smug. And rightfully so. You were already wet. It was as if he could read your mind. He knew without even exploring the space between your thighs what he would find there. He knew what turned you on. It was the same for him. Its why you were the perfect match.

“Your whore.” You whispered against his lips, enjoying the way his jaw clenched. His expression was tight while his chest expanded with a deep breath. His right hand began trailing along the curve of your waist and down to your backside, caressing. You let his hand roam freely, unafraid of the consequence.

“No panties, huh?” He asked, punctuating his words with a fierce grab of your ass. He massaged the flesh, pulling a low moan from your painted lips. You gripped the lapels of his suit, steadying yourself against the rush of desire that now held you prisoner.

“A practical decision.” You replied, leaning further into his body. He let his arms surround you, this time smoothing both of his hands over your lower half. Your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rubbing against his in a silent plea.

“Practical how?” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your response. His hands began slowly pulling at your dress, shifting the material up your legs and thighs.

“Easier to convince you to fuck me in the middle of a gala.” You teased, tongue darting out to lick seductively at his bearded lips.

He grunted in approval, fingers finding their way to the epicenter of your excitement. He danced along your inner thighs, taking note of the way they clenched. They were already slippery with your arousal, your body getting off just on the anticipation alone. He teased your slit, his eyes watching your face closely. You bit your lip as you tried to shift against his touch, eager for more. You didn’t know what made it so thrilling to sleep with Miguel. It could’ve been a multitude of things. His wealth, his authority, his arrogance. It all combined to make a sensuous elixir. One that had you addicted.

“You’re worth every fucking penny I spend on you.” He breathed against your lips, catching the gasp you released when his fingers finally penetrated you. Your nails dug into his chest, struggling for purchase as he scissored you. His palm rubbed at your clit as he worked you from the inside out.

“Fuck…” You moaned when he curled his fingers against your walls. He was encouraging your body to flood him, coaxing an orgasm to the surface. Who were you to deny him?

“You’d let me do what I want, right?”

You nodded wordlessly, too caught up in his touch to verbalize. His rhythm began to accelerate, forcing your pussy to cling to him in mercy.

“You’d let me fuck you right here for everyone to see. Let them see what my money buys. What I own.”

You couldn’t stop the litany of whimpers and moans that danced off your lips. His words set you ablaze, amplifying the pleasure to insurmountable heights. You forgot about your surroundings. Forgot that the pretentious society of Santo Padre stood only feet away. Your body’s carnal desires were the only thing that fueled you from that moment. That and Miguel’s sinful mouth.

“Turn around.” He demanded lowly, his fingers leaving the confines of your body and trailing the stickiness along your skin.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t hesitate. You gave yourself over completely to Miguel, proving to him why you were his favorite…his only. You faced the pristinely manicured courtyard, gripping the balcony ledge as he raised the hem of your dress to expose your lower half. His belt was already undone, his zipper down. He pressed into you, letting you feel the hard line of his cock beneath the fabric of his underwear. You opened your neck up to him in invitation and were instantly rewarded with the delicious graze of his lips and tongue.

“Spread your legs, baby. Let me in.” He whispered against your neck, his hand trailing down your spine. You shivered and obeyed dutifully, letting his body line up with you. The heat of his flesh met yours as he slowly began to push in. No matter how many times or the various ways you’d let Miguel fuck you, he always stretched you with an ache that bordered on painful. The sensation took your breath away.

“Miguel…” You moaned into the night, reaching an arm behind you to thread your fingers into his hair. You tugged at the strands as he sunk all the way into your depths. Your walls throbbed against his cock, feeling the pulse of his blood as he stood completely still. You both savored the moment of raw lust. Savored the erotic connection of your bodies. Savored the risk of fucking with Miguel’s friends and associates just beyond a glass door.

“Tell me what you need.”

You tried to wiggle your hips, but his hands held you firm. You were impaled on his cock, trapped between him and the balcony. You had nowhere to go.

“Move…fuck me, please.” You pleaded, soaking up the kisses he continued to lavish on your neck. His teeth scraped along your earlobe, nibbling as he went.  

“Please what?”

You inwardly gloated at his question, realizing the mood he was in. Miguel only ever asked you such a question when he was feeling especially playful and that usually meant a five star orgasm for you.

“Daddy.” You corrected. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you in response and you squeezed him back, relishing the curse he growled out.

Without warning, he thrust hard and deep, pinning you roughly against the concrete ledge. You yelped at the force of it, your breath catching in your throat. He kept up his brutal pace, using slow, measured thrusts. His fingertips dug into your hips. He grunted like a primal beast as he plunged so deep that you were forced onto your tiptoes.

“Oh, fuck…” You bent forward and braced yourself as he continued to ravage you, the angle making your toes curl. You flinched when you felt the sudden pressure of his finger at your clit, his hand unknowingly making its journey up the front of your dress.

“I can feel you, baby. You’re ready. Be a good girl and cum, yeah?” He taunted.

Miguel’s flare for pillow talk was about as masterful as his cock. His mouth was an instrument. An instrument he used with expert precision. He knew when to strike. Knew when to utilize his talent to make you cum harder than any other time before.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a cyclone of pleasure swept you up and immobilized you. Your entire body shook with uncontrolled tremors as wave after treacherous wave of climax assailed your body. You felt him still inside you. He could feel every swirl of your hips, every earth-shattering shockwave that ricocheted off his cock. You gasped for air as his finger continued to torture your clit, despite your sudden oversensitivity. He prolonged your orgasm, praising the way you squeezed him.

“That’s it. Just like that.” He talked you through it, tenderly caressing your cheek as if he wasn’t still splitting you in two. His hips resumed their pace, the sound of him entering you now amplified by your release. You grasped onto his forearm as his hand reached around to squeeze at your throat. His hold wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make you feel unsteady on your four inch heels. The ledge dug into your hips as he rutted into you, his own hips stuttering in overwhelming ecstasy.

“Cum inside me…fill me up.” You said between each ragged breath you took.

“Fuck,” He cursed, plastering your body to his as he finished. The flood of warmth filled you, his body spasming with each spurt of his cum. There wasn’t an iota of space left between your bodies as he used you, painting your insides and filling you to capacity. His forehead rested on the back of your neck, his breathing beginning to slow as he floated back into the moment.

His tired chuckle made you laugh, the vibrations making you both hiss. You ran your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, your touch much softer than the previous time. He carefully eased himself out of your clutches, but he didn’t let your dress fall back into place. Instead, he ran a finger over your abused slit, slipping past and coating the appendage. You gasped at the unexpected intrusion, but let him do as he pleased.

A second later he was removing his finger and spinning you around, your dress now covering any modesty you had left. You met his gaze, seeing his hair slightly out of place and a corner of his mouth lifted in a devious smirk. He raised the finger, letting you see the mixture of you and him that covered it. He smeared it onto your lips.

“Beautiful…” He whispered, nodding in approval when you immediately licked the concoction from your lips. He pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue instantly seeking entrance into your mouth. You gave it, letting him taste the champagne and the flavor of your combined releases. You pulled away breathless and satiated, the drunken high of your coupling still very prominent.

“So should I not wear panties from now on?” You teased, stepping back to allow him the room to adjust his pants and shirt. He composed himself, tucking in his shirt as he laughed at your question. You reached up and fixed his hair, noting the hints of grey intertwined in the inky locks.

“Something to think about.” He replied matter-of-factly, eyebrow raised as if pondering the pros of such a decision. He let you fuss with his hair, black eyes fixated on your chest. “That is quite the dress. A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But if I’m going to look like a whore then at least it’s an expensive one. Right, Daddy?” You winked, trailing a painted nail over his lips and down to adjust the collar of his shirt.

He shook his head and chuckled, gaze now scanning the area for people. “Come on.” He gestured to the ballroom, leading you with a hand to your lower back.

You thanked him as he opened the door for you, letting you pass with a subtle pat to your ass. He maneuvered through the crowd with you, stopping momentarily to greet the occasional acquaintance. You’d grabbed another flute of champagne, standing silent beside Miguel as he spoke with a local politician. Your eyes found Tina’s across the room, a scowl still permanently etched onto her face. You brought a finger up to your lips and made a show of wiping the sides of your mouth, your message clear. She looked appalled, beady eyes bouncing between you and Miguel as if she was putting the pieces of a puzzle together. You took a hearty sip of your drink and waved, pleased when she shook her head and walked off in a huff.

“Behave. I don’t pay you to ruin my relationships with the locals.” Miguel warned in your ear, his arm back around your waist in a possessive embrace.

“No, you pay me to suck your dick and swallow your cum.” You countered.

You took your own kind of sick pleasure out of shocking and sassing Miguel. It was what made all your encounters with him so damn fun. The man’s buttons were easy to push. Some days he played along, like today. Other times he fought against you, intent on punishing you for your transgressions.

“Speaking of,” You continued, handing off your glass to him. “Your cum is currently running down my leg so I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room.”

His eyes flickered down to your thighs hidden beneath your dress, a flash of desire sweeping across his face. He nodded, fixing you with a firm stare. “There and back. No detours.”

“Yes sir.” You mocked, taking his hand in yours.

This time, he wasn’t amused.

“I think it’s time I remind you what your purpose is.” He responded coolly, squeezing your hand back in a deceivingly tight hold. It was an obvious warning that he wanted you to heed, but you’d do no such thing. Playful Miguel was fun, but you yearned for that darker, twisted side that was bred from running a cartel operation.

So, you leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, letting your tongue dart out to taste him. You patted his chest with a placating expression, surely sealing your date with the devil later.

“I can’t wait.”

Sucia Tag List

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[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

The “Rescue”

Slade Wilson x reader

Summary: Arkham Knight era, the boy needs a hand after he gets caught

Word Count: 1830

If someone had asked that morning how he thought this whole “attack Gotham on Halloween” thing was going to go, Slade probably would have said literally anything other than the way it actually had gone. Months of careful planning somehow ended with him sitting in a cell at the police station with every crazed idiot that plagued the cesspool they called a city. The man poorly singing opera in the middle of said cell especially grated on his already frayed nerves.

It hadn’t helped that all of those irritating criminals had gotten especially antsy about ten minutes prior when damn near every cop in the precinct rushed out with whispers of something happening at Wayne Manor on their lips. Slade could only hope the Knight made it out okay. But it didn’t matter, not much he could do to help the kid until after he got himself out of here. An annoying task in and of itself considering that his gear had been confiscated upon arrival; he was lucky no one had had the balls to try and take his mask. So he chose to bide his time, head leaned back against the bars as he sat on the ground and tried to ignore the other prisoners around him.

The phrase ‘Time is an illusion’ came to mind while Slade sat waiting for something to happen, something that would give him the chance to escape. Cops weren’t back yet, so it hadn’t been too long. Still, he was getting antsy, eager to leave the company of Gotham’s Craziest. Though, he wasn’t so eager that he was happy when the power suddenly cut out. Predictably, there was a sudden hush among the prisoners before the chatter returned twofold.

This can’t be good.

“You look like shit, Wilson.”

His eyes slid closed and he sighed, automatically recognizing that voice. He’d better after all the times and contexts in which he’d heard it.

“He’s wearing a mask!” Cobblepot argued. “How the hell can she know that?”

“Shut up!” Dent snarled. “You fucking idiot. Do you not recognize her mask? She’s almost as bad as him!”

Ignoring them, Slade turned to look at her. Sure enough, her mask (one much like the Knight’s) was blocking whatever facial expression she had, but her body language spoke volumes about her attitude. The outfit she was wearing fit poorly; something she’d stolen from a militia member to blend in most likely. “Why are you here?”

You crossed your arms, weight falling to one hip. There was a little time to spare before the skeleton police crew came to check on this particular group of criminals. “A mutual friend of ours asked me to make sure you made it out of town.”

“I don’t need your help, Y/N.”

“Like it or not, you’ve got it. The Bat’s dead; his manor blew sky high with him in it.”

That sent a wave of murmurs through everyone that was openly listening to the two of them argue.

The crowd was loud enough to cover the quiet, “Allegedly,” that was for Slade’s ears only. “So, do you want out of here or not?”

“Suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” he grumbled, rising to his feet slowly.

“Who are you callin’ a horse, Wilson?” you challenged even as you pried the door open.

None of his cellmates were stupid enough to challenge Deathstroke as he exited the cell and closed the door behind him. “The woman that felt the need to break her ex-husband out of jail without even getting paid for it, Ms. Wilson.” It was always amusing to him, the fact that you never bothered to change your name back to what it was before. Well, it amused him about as much as it hurt him.

“Well, everybody always says I have shit judgement, so I figured I’d say ‘fuck it’ and lean into it this time.”

It was only once both of them were in one of the militia’s armored transports that Slade started to relax the slightest bit, and even then it was in no small part due to the fact that you’d handed him a duffel full of his gear. Apparently you’d made a pit-stop by the evidence lockup before grabbing him.

“So the Knight sent you?” he asked as she drove, the vehicle headed out of the city. He wasn’t leaving your presence anytime soon as far as he could tell, so he might as well make nice in the meantime.

You nodded, eyes remaining carefully trained on the road. Looking at him . . . well, it was never a good idea for you. “He messaged me as soon as things went sideways with the Bat. Took me a few hours to get here.”

“Little shit had no faith that I’d get the job done?”

A smirk tugged at your lips. “You don’t exactly have a winning track record going against Batman alone, and your thugs--trained or not--stood no chance. Don’t get mad at him though; he was worried about you.”

“And you’d do anything for him.”

You nodded, and out of the corner of your eye you saw him echo the gesture. It was against your better judgement, but you couldn’t stop the admission from sliding from your lips as easily as curses normally did. “And for you.”

Every muscle in Slade’s body froze at that; for once he had no idea what to say. “Y/N. . .” 

You just sighed.

There was a reason for your relationship in the first place, after all, as well as your divorce. The love you two had was a dangerous one; there were no lengths one of you wouldn’t go to if it meant saving the other. The only people that could claim something similar from Slade were his children, and that was only after you helped them reconcile. And the love you shared had never faded. In fact, the problem was the exact opposite. You two had hated to be apart, hated that your separate contracts often made you go weeks without seeing the other, and more importantly each of your enemies started going after the other in an endless search for weaknesses. For Slade it was no problem. For you . . . Let’s just say it was a shame that you didn’t have his enhancements.

So the two of you staged a massive fight and ended it between you. That was ten years ago, and not a day went by that you didn’t wish things were different.

When you glanced over, you saw that he’d removed his mask, and yeah looking at him was never a great idea for you. Confirmed. It only reminded you how much you loved him. And the fact that he was still handsome even years after all the years since he was the young brunet mercenary you met so long ago.

Slade found himself in a similar situation over in the passenger seat. As much as his first wife taught him he was bad at the whole feelings thing, you taught him that he could be more than that. His cold heart gave a solid thud at the sight of you removing your own mask with the smooth familiarity of someone who’d done it a thousand times and carelessly tossing the marvel of mechanical headwear into the back seat. You’d gained some wrinkles over the years you’d spent away from him as well as some grey hairs, but you were still stunning. Maybe it was a good thing you never took it off around him while the two of you were working with the militia down in Venezuela . . . 

“I thought we agreed . . .” he muttered, normal confidence put aside for honesty just like it always was when talking to you.

“Do you remember what it was like back then?”

“When?”

“That trip when we stayed in that backwater beach house in South America.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Second honeymoon. Rose wanted to kill us for getting her to dogsit.”

You nodded, fingers flexing on the steering wheel as you fought the urge to reach over and touch him. “She agreed, and I paid her.”

“It was a wolfhound you trained to help you on jobs; it was a beast.”

“Rover was a good boy, and you loved him.”

“You knew she couldn’t say no to you.”

“Okay, that I can’t argue.”

There was a moment of amused silence where Slade simply enjoyed your company for a moment. But all good things in his life had to end, so, “Why do you bring it up?”

You hesitated, face nervous, a rare thing when you were talking to him even after the divorce. “I miss it.” Even someone as emotionally stunted as Slade Wilson could hear the unsaid, “I miss you,” in your tone.

“Did something happen?”

You shook your head. “Been thinking about it for a while, actually. Ever since we started helping the Knight.”

It really had been a while, then, since Jason Todd hired both of you over a year ago to help gather and train his army. You buying and programming the drones and equipment as well as building the Knight’s mask in a style similar to your own, Slade training the people how to actually fight. Crossing paths had been both inevitable and painful.

“What you’re thinking . . . Y/N, it isn’t a good idea.”

Abruptly, you slammed on the brakes. Slade absolutely would have hit the windshield if his reflexes had been any slower and he hadn’t been able to brace himself in time. Your eyes were practically blazing when you turned to glare at him. “Slade Wilson, if you can look me in the eye right now and convince me that you don’t want the same thing, I’ll drop it and you’ll never see me again.”

The thing was he couldn’t do that. You knew how to hit him where it mattered, that was sure. Mentioning his kids (both of which still loved and looked up to you), that trip . . . Yeah . . . He wanted you around just as much as you wanted him around. God only knows why she wants me.

He sighed heavily. “If we do this, we’ll have to be partners. None of that working separately shit that got us in trouble before.”

“Lucky for us, we already know how each other works.”

Slade rolled his eyes, relaxing into his seat once more as you started driving again. “Why do I feel like the kid set this up?”

“Because he’s a manipulative little shit just like the rest of our kids except he has the Bat’s subtlety?” you offered ‘helpfully.’

Meaning that he has none? Slade chose to focus on that instead of the way a little thrum of pleasure passed through him at the way you talked about his children like they were your own; though, he supposed you were right to address Jason as one of them. Despite himself, he’d grown pretty damn fond of the little bird. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

[alleiradayne]

Secret Agent Man

Summary: Sam and Natalie reunite in The Continental Hotel. Square Filled: Spy AU Warnings/Tags: Lotsa floofs, some sexiness Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy Word Count: 1,616 A/N:  For @spnfluffbingo2019. Think John Wick, Sam and Natalie are spies/hitmen that have worked together for years. They’ve also competed for contracts, but always managed to leave things quite amorous between one another. Song: Secret Agent Man by Johnny Rivers

The speakeasy; alcohol at cost, ornate furniture, hazy air, and a wait staff available for your every vice. The Continental Hotel cut no corners. Nor should it. Not for the price paid by its clientele. If you needed to go into hiding for a week, the Continental had you covered. If you needed to blow off some steam—either by kicking the shit out of someone or fucking your brains out—the Continental had people at your disposal. If you were like Natalie Murphy, and all you needed was a stiff drink and some goddamn peace and quiet, they had the best liquor money could buy and nobody would bother you. And, so, Natalie sat in her wing-back leather chair, keen to be left alone as she drowned her last job in a sea of brown liquor. No negotiations. No meetings. No interruptions.

“Mind if I join you?”

Okay. Maybe one interruption. For his baritone, she could make an exception.

“That depends, Mr. Winchester. What do you—”

The heavy glass tumbler of scotch thumped to the table as Sam Winchester leaned over her shoulder. “You look ravishing, as always.” A tender kiss met her cheek and lingered before he parted from her.

If you wanted honest compliments, hours of conversation, long legs, hazel eyes, dimples for days, and sex you'd feel a week later, you called Sam Winchester. Not to mention he knew his way around a sniper rifle.

“Why, thank you, Sam. Good to see you in one piece, as always,” Natalie chimed. “What brings you back around, sweetheart?”

Sam rounded the tiny coffee table and took up a seat on a mismatched chaise, left elbow propped on the arm as he leaned towards her. The small lounge droned with hushed conversation and subtle music, and golden lamplight illuminated the gorgeous smile on his lips. Trim grey suit hugged his broad shoulders, narrowed at his hips, and elongated his already long legs. Despite the awkward seating, Sam sat regal as a king on the chaise, legs crossed, broad shoulders pulled back, and spine strait as an arrow.

Natalie consumed him, head to toe and back again when he remained silent. His devious grin warmed her belly much like her scotch, smooth as she swallowed it down her throat. She had missed something. Narrowed eyes and a sideways glare scrutinized his inquisitive smirk, but she found nothing in his soft gaze. Then her eyes snapped to his feet and there she found an obnoxious pair of ornate black brogues.

“Sam,” she sighed. “Really?”

“You know how I hate to ask,” he muttered into his drink. “Be a doll and give me a hand?”

Natalie leaned over the arm of her chair, her face inches from his. “What's in it for me?”

“The usual,” Sam started with a coy smirk, “money, revenge, networking, the chance to work with me again.”

She pouted, her bottom lip stuck out as she teased him. “I can get those things anywhere. And what makes you think I like working with you?”

Callused fingers curled her hair behind her ear, and Natalie gathered all her willpower not to react. “I recall a number of nights involving extra-curricular activities after completing a hit. I could refresh your memory if you join in my room tonight,” he said as his gaze fell to her lips for a heartbeat, then returned to her eyes. “We can go over the logistics of this mark, too.”

Nobody had a right to smile the way Sam Winchester smiled at her. “Logistics,” she breathed. “Right. Already got a plan?”

Sam nodded. “Almost. Needs another set of eyes on it before I'm comfortable.”

Despite her best effort, Natalie grinned. “Alright, Mr. Winchester. I think I can accommodate you.”

His pleased hum sang like the sweetest music. “Excellent. It will be quite thrilling to work with you again. You are the consummate marksman.”

Natalie snorted into her drink. “Now you're just trying to butter me up. I already said I'd help you.”

“No, Ms. Murphy,” he said as his hand enveloped hers. “I mean it. You are always a pleasure to work with. Discrete, efficient, and a master of the craft. I came to you first not only because I know you would get the job done, but because I thoroughly love working with you.”

Oh, he was laying it on thick. Either he desperately needed her help, or he desperately wanted to get laid. “You’re not too bad yourself.” Natalie said, “I kinda miss having you around. You know, to lift things.”

Sam smiled at that as his eyes listed to his feet. “I can lift a great many things, that is true. Like bodies. I am particularly gifted at lifting bodies,” he said as he teased the back of her hand with delicate fingertips. “Conscious, consenting bodies, that is.”

Natalie thanked the poor lighting of the lounge, lest Sam see the pink hue across her cheeks. She had missed working with him for several reasons. Sure, sign her up for all the delicious sex the Continental offered. But Sam Winchester offer much more than a steady gun on her six, or a post-mark coital playmate.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she stated. “Why do you come to me for help? There are better spies out there.”

Sam’s raptor-like glare sharpened to a point between his knotted brow. “I disagree. As I said, you are a professional, and I love watching you work in all facets of the job. A job that seems to have included seducing me.”

A distraction, she needed a distraction immediately, before her read her like an open book. She threw back her head as she finished the dredges of her original drink, then hefted the glass Sam had place before her. With a short sip, the liquor coated her tongue and warmed her throat. Her eyes widened as the flavors settled; subtle smoke, sweet, with a hint of sherry. A deep breath finalized the succulent sample in a rich flourish of oak.

“You did not.”

Sam held out his hand and, as if summoned with magic, a large dark brown bottle of Bowmore manifested in the hands of a server. “I did.” He motioned to the server who then handed her the bottle.

With great care, Natalie cradled the bottle as she examined it. “I owe you. That’s not a cheap pour.”

“Neither is the bottle,” he started as he leaned to her and spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, there is something else of yours I would rather have than the money I spent.”

Her eyes snapped to his, only then to notice the server had left them. Alone. With a thirty-thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch. Between him and the bottle, Natalie struggled with where to look.

“Consider it a wedding gift.”

She couldn’t help herself. “You know, usually people date for a while before they get married. And one person actually asks the other if they even want to.”

Sam smiled as he grasped the neck of the bottle. With his eyes still on hers, he said, “I suppose I can drink this by my—”

“You will not, Samuel Winchester,” Natalie hissed as she snatched the bottle from him.

“So, is that a ye—”

Her lips landed on his without a single thought. Fuck the future. Fuck the job. Fuck everything in their wretched little world. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was that Sam Winchester loved her like she had always loved him.

When Natalie parted from him, Sam laughed a breath through his nose. “So, about that job…”

Natalie stood with a huff as she grabbed her bag and her drink, the bottle cradled in the crook of her arm. Sam had remained seated, unmoving but for the curious quirk of his head. “Do you want my help or not?”

Hands on his knees, he stood, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he stepped beside her. “Thank you, Natalie.”

“Don’t thank me quite yet,” she warned as they headed for the elevator. “I have no idea what kind of mess you’ve roped me into.”

“Your favorite kind of mess,” Sam teased. “We need a honeypot.”

At the elevator, Natalie punched the call button. “That’s worse than get help.”

“Not for me, it isn’t,” Sam laughed as they entered the elevator. He thumbed the button for the twentieth floor and the doors closed.

“Right,” Natalie stated with a flat glare as the elevator shuttered into motion. “You do nothing but watch me work.”

“Exactly.”

Wicked man. They rode the elevator in silence, but when they reached the twentieth floor, her curiosity got the better of her. “Why is that so entertaining to you?”

Through the hallways, Sam led them to his room. With a wave of his hand, the handle clicked, and he pushed the door wide. Once inside, Natalie unburdened herself, scotch set on the bar and her bag left on an overstuffed chair. “Are you going to answer my question or--”

As she turned to him, Sam loosened his tie and stripped it from his neck. With measured steps, he neared her as he said, “I enjoy watching you seduce bumbling fools because I know that, at the end of the day, I will be the one that takes care of you.” Over her head, he looped his tie and wrapped it around her waist, then pulled her flush to his chest. “What do you say? Still want to give me a hand?”

A small smile crooked the corners of her lips. “On one condition.”

“Anything for you, Natalie.”

She had hoped he might say that.

“After this, we have a real wedding.”

Tags: @atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox@wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs

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ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

[olivias-cardigan]

reconnecting jonah x reader pt 2

requested? yes here is part one

a/n: sorry this took awhile to release! i'm not sure how many parts this will be, but i'm going to release each part every week. hope you enjoy! love you all :) let me know if you want to be tagged!

summary: after running into each other, jonah invites y/n to their upcoming christmas performance. its the day of and y/n is a bundle of nerves and excitement, so is her bsf emma

word count: 1,552

warnings: maybe a little cussing i dont even know at this point, unedited

taglist: @zaddydaniel

  The following three weeks seem to drag on. You couldn’t contain the excitement bubbling inside of you everytime you thought about going the rapidly approaching Why Don’t We Christmas Show, and nothing in your normal day to day life compared to that. It felt like your professors never stopped droning on, your studying for finals was never-ending, and that your work at the cafe was going to continue on for eternity.

 Despite all of this, the day of the performance was finally here. And you had absolutely no idea what to wear. You room looked like a complete mess, with various items of clothing sprawled across every possible surface. You wanted to make a good impression on the boys seeing that they meant a lot to Jonah and not to mention they were celebrities, but deep down you knew the real reason you wanted to look good: for Jonah. But nothing looked right. Everything either looked like you were trying to hard, or just like complete shit. You settled on a black crop top that had thin cream and maroon stripes on it, layered with an army green flannel, and paired with your favorite medium wash ripped jeans and a black belt. You headed to your bathroom and checked the time on your phone. You had an hour before you had to leave to pick up Emma. Jonah had sent you an extra VIP pass and you decided to take her. You met during your freshman year at college and were extremely close now. You plugged your phone into the outlet seeing that it was at a whopping 12% and opened Spotify. After pressing shuffle, you grabbed your hairbrush and started to comb through your extremely tangled hair. You weren’t that big into hair or makeup primarily because you didn’t typically have the time, but also because whenever you attempted, it never looked that great anyway. You could only do about one thing with your hair that looked halfway decent, and that was beach waves so you decided to do that. After you did your hair you moved on to makeup, and you were lowkey impressed with the finished product. You grabbed your chapstick and threw it into your purse and spritzed on a final touch of perfume. Quickly, (as you were running late), you threw on your small gold hoops, slipped on your vans, and headed out the door.

 Emma lived only 5ish minutes away and today you made it to her apartment in record time. As she stepped outside her door you could tell she radiated excitement. She had been a Limelight since you had known her so could only imagine how pumped she was. You tried to avoid listening to the band because hearing Jonah’s voice used to break your heart. But now that you were seeing them, you definitely thought you should learn some of the songs so the past three weeks you have been listening to Why Don’t We on repeat. Emma opened the car door and let out a little squeal when she entered.

 “Y/n, thank you so so much for inviting me! I know I’ve said that like a million times since you gave me the ticket but seriously I’m so freaking excited!” She exclaimed buckling her seatbelt.

 You chuckled.

 “You’re welcome Emma but I wouldn’t go thanking me just yet. I still have to get us there.” You said typing in the address Jonah had given you. The performance was at the Mall of America but he wanted you guys to meet him and the boys earlier at a different location in the middle of downtown that you had never been to before, and let’s face it you weren’t the world’s most skilled driver; and these directions were not promising.

 “We will be fine y/n, especially with me as your navigator!” She chirped in response and took your phone from you. You two began to make your way to the location and the ride there turned out to be pretty smooth. Emma hooked up her phone to the Bluetooth and of course was playing Why Don’t We. You made it there without getting lost and even successfully did the parallel parking in the downtown street. Emma handed you back your phone so that you could text Jonah that you had arrived. He responded almost immediately and told you that he would send some of the security out to you and they would take you back. Sure enough, two minutes later two tall, extremely tall and built guys in all black came striding over towards you. They asked to see both of your licenses and after verifying it was you said, “Right this way ma’am.” You locked your car and followed the two looming figures across the streets.  

  They took you through a series of twists and turns after what seemed like an eternity, you reached a hotel back door.

 “We have to go through the back so that the fans out front don’t see us,” The one guard explained.

 From there, you took the elevator to the top floor. After a moment of walking down the hallway, the security guards stopped in front of room 804. They pulled out a key card and scanned it on the lock, causing the light to turn green and they entered the room. Emma grabbed your hand and gave it a little squeeze. You followed them into the room to see three boys sprawled out on the couch playing none other that Fortnite. In unison, they all turned over to look at you and Emma. One of them shut off the Playstation and they headed in your direction.

 “You must be y/n,” One of them said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Daniel.”

 You smiled. “Yeah I am, nice to meet you!”

 “I’m Jack!” The curly headed boy said with a grin.

 “And I’m Corbyn,” The blonde one said not able to tear his eyes off of Emma. You looked over at her and she was speechless. You were pretty sure Corbyn was her favorite and you could tell she was starstruck; Emma had never been speechless.

 “This is Emma,” You said gesturing to your quiet friend, putting a supportive hand on her shoulder. “She is a huge fan of you guys and my best friend.”

 “Well, we could be happier to have you Emma! Let me show you around,” Corbyn responded grabbing Emma’s hand. As they were about to turn the corner, your friend looked back over her shoulder giving you a look almost saying, “IS THIS SERIOUSLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW??!?!?” You chuckled and gave her a small thumbs up and she disappeared with Corbyn.

 “Do you guys know where Jonah is?” You asked Jack and Daniel.

 “He’s over there,” Daniel nodded over to the bathroom. “I think he is getting ready.”

 “For you,” Jack mumbled as Daniel elbowed him.

 Confused, you thanked them and headed in the direction of the lit room. You knocked on the door and sure enough Jonah opened the door.

 “Y/n!” He exclaimed engulfing you in a bear hug. “I’m so glad you could make it! Was the drive okay?”

 You hugged him back and then began to tell him about your ride here. He listened and guided you to the couch with his hand on your back as you continued to tell him about your drive. As you sat down, you told him about how Emma was a little awe-struck he laughed.

 “It’s okay, we are used to it. And from what you told me about her, I’m sure it won’t be long before she warms up.” He said kindly. “Where is she though?” He asked looking around the room. Daniel and Jack were now accompanied by Zach who you met in the bathroom when you saw Jonah. But Corbyn and Emma were still nowhere to be found.

 “I’m not sure, she went off with Corbyn earlier but that was a while ago.” You shrugged as Jonah got a surprised look on his face.

 “That’s weird, normally Corbyn doesn’t show interest in girls. He got out of a long term relationship six months ago and we have tried to get him back out there, but he hasn’t wanted to… until now at least.”

 “Yeah Emma is really great.” You answered smiling. You were so happy for her and hoped she was hitting it off well with her crush. She was a super bubbly and outgoing person but didn’t have the best relationships in the past.

 “So y/n,” Jonah said clapping his hands together. “What do you want to do? We have about an hour and a half until we have to leave for the performance. We can watch a movie, we could go somewhere but run the risk of the paperazzi, um there’s video games, foosball-”

 “FOOSBALL!” You shrieked. “You are going down Marais.”

 “Did someone say foosball?” Daniel asked looking up from his phone.

 “FOOSBALL TOURNAMENT!” Jack shouted as him, Zach, and Daniel bounded to the game room.

 Jonah rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand, which felt very small in his, and walked you to the game room. Your heart started beating fast, and you were sure if it was from holding hands, the adrenaline from the prospect of competition, or a combination of both.

[marvelmando]

let there be light - pt. 2

summary: y/n has been living with tony stark since she was three, after a lab accident killed her parents, and left her with the ability to create and manipulate light. since then, she battles as an avenger, and eventually, as a babysitter for a certain new hero. she doesn’t mind it though, because she’s always wanted to live a normal teenage life… and possibly also because peter’s cute.

contains: swearing, angst, fluff

notes: what the actual fuck the last chapter literally blew up i don’t think i can say thank you enough????? i appreciate every single message, reply, note, and reblog, and im sorry if i don’t respond, or upload frequently. i just had major back surgery and im now back at school so im literally drowning in make-up work. but ill try my very very best!!! also: please send me an ask if you’d like to be in my taglist! if you only reply i can’t promise i will see it :) but thank you all sososososo much!!

part 1

For the following two months, Tony you prepare to go undercover at Midtown School of Science and Technology as yourself, Y/N Stark.

Now, you weren’t really the biological child of Tony’s, but his adoptive daughter. For reasons you didn’t know, you’d been sent to live with Tony when you were three, after an accident had killed your parents. Or, at least, you pretended not to know. The real reasons were strictly confidential, and only a handful of people knew besides Tony, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, and the highest ranks in government.

Keeping secrets was second nature to you by now, which made you ideal for an undercover mission. Also, Natasha had taught you a few things after your heroic debut in the Battle of New York, wherein after you became a full-fledged Avenger despite only being 11 years old.

The world had not yet known that Tony Stark had a daughter, whether biological or not, which made you unsure. However, Tony made the point that you were going to grow up into an adult one day, and he hoped that you would keep his surname. Of course, as a slightly anxiety-ridden girl, you worried that would cause a lot of unwanted attention towards you. But Tony was right. Besides, what other surname could you use?

Now, you weren’t really going undercover at Midtown. You didn’t have a fake name or a fake backstory, like you usually would. You were just... you. But you were going undercover to Peter, as Artemis. You would watch over him, guide him as a fellow superhero by night, and a friendly girl by day.

Luckily, and not surprisingly, Tony had already thought ahead.

Now that he didn’t have much to worry about Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, he put most of his effort into this spider kid. Sometimes you wouldn’t see Tony for days, as he holed himself away in his workshop, only briefly scampering to the kitchen for water and food.

You were concerned about Tony. You knew about his nightmares, and vaguely about something called Thanos, but every time you tried to confront him, Tony would shut you down.

“Hey, Kiddo, ready for your first day of school?” A brown paper bag plopped on the counter in front of you.

Looking up, you saw Tony across from you, sporting a tight smile. The corner of your lips twitched as you snatched the bag. “Ready as ever.”

Tony drove you to school in his Audi R8, obviously the most conservative car he owned. The drive was long and silent, as you mulled over everything that could possibly go wrong.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Tony awkwardly reached over the console and patted your hand, which was rested on your knee. “You’re gonna do fine, Light-bulb. After all, you are a Stark.”

This made you smile genuinely, as you thanked him with your eyes. For the past twelve years you’ve lived with Tony, as much as he was caring, you never felt like you belonged there. As much as you had the last name, you weren’t sure that you could be a Stark.

Pulling into the school, you could see heads turning as you passed, through the tinted windows. You instinctively shrunk in your seat, feeling as if bugs were crawling over your skin.

The car in front of you, a silver convertible, honked its horn twice, as a lanky figure dodged it as he crossed the street. Almost immediately, you recognized the boy as Peter. He hurried up the stairs of the school, and you had Tony stop the car.

You stumbled out of the car, giving Tony a quick goodbye. You barely noticed the whispers and the glances as you hurried your pace to catch up with the boy.

“Peter!” You whisper-yelled, although you weren’t sure why. It’s not like you were trying to keep your interactions a secret.

After months of doing research on his powers, you knew he had heightened senses. However, if he heard you, he didn’t act like it. You figured he hadn’t, due to the earbuds in his ears, and the loud chattering of the students.

You pushed your way through the crowd, watching as Peter slipped in the front doors. You kept him in your sight, weaving through the conglomerates of social groups clogging up the hallways.

At one point, something had tugged on your hair, hard. Apparently, one of the students had a drone of some sort, and was struggling to control the thing. It got caught in your hair as you passed, and the boy holding the control squeaked as the drone continued to malfunction. Trying not to break the device, you took hold of it.

You untangled your strands from the metal, and handed it back to the kid. He was younger than you, skinny, with dark skin and glasses too large for his face. He took his drone with shaky hands, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He stuttered out an apology, and you gave him a warm smile.

“Try fixing the circuit board, one of the motor hinges is loose.” You said as you walked away from him. The kid’s jaw dropped. You laughed to yourself.

Once again looking for a sign of the curly-haired boy, you made your way down the hall. You noticed a group of cheerleaders, who had suddenly taken an interest in you. They whispered among themselves, looking you up and down as you passed. You gripped the strap of your backpack tighter.

You almost hadn’t seen it, but there Peter was, at a locker behind the cheerleaders.

“Peter!” You sighed in relief, and hurried towards him. “Thank god I found you, I almost—” 

You stopped shortly when you noticed the larger boy across from Peter, mouth open mid-sentence, and holding a small Lego figure. “Is that Emperor Palpatine?”

Both boys’ eyes widened.

“Um, hey, Y/N, ri—right? What—uh, what are you doing here?” Peter laughed awkwardly, folding his arms. “And—you know who Emperor Palpatine is?”

You shrugged, clutching your backpack. “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. But um, yeah, I kind of go here now?”

The chubby boy looked back and forth between you and Peter, obviously confused.

“Oh! Um, Y/N this is Ned, my best friend. Ned, this is Y/N—”

“Hi,” You held your hand out so he could shake it. He seemed hesitant, still perplexed at how you and Peter knew each other. “I, um, work for Tony Stark. That’s how we know each other.”

“Right!” Peter cried, realizing now what your angle was. “The internship.”

Ned seemed satisfied at this answer, the shy expression from earlier gone and replaced with a bright grin. “Well, you like Star Wars! Right? Because I got this sick Death Star Lego set, and it has 3,803 pieces!”

“That’s insane!”

“Wow, that sounds rad.” You chuckled, and you heard the group of cheerleaders snicker, as one of them didn’t even attempt to hide their distaste as the said, “so lame”. You looked down at your feet, hiding your face as you tried to contain your embarrassment.

“I know right! So I was wondering if you wanted to build it tonight?” The three of you began to walk down the halls, and you walked beside Peter, Ned on his other side. “You can come too, Y/N!”

Before you could respond, Peter stepped in. “No, I can’t tonight, I’ve got the Stark—”

“Stark internship. Always about that internship.” Peter scratched his neck. “What about you, then, Y/N, or do you have the internship too?”

“No, um, I’m free tonight.” You smiled across at Ned. You were looking forward to go home so you could read or work of Spider-Man’s AI system, but you reminded yourself that this was good—normal. Hanging out with other teens after school. Right?

Peter shot you a look but you avoided his gaze.

The two friends began to discuss jobs, but you watched your feet, clutching your class schedule from your pocket.

While Ned talked on about the Death Star, Peter’s focus drifted. His footsteps faltered, and his eyes pinched in the corners so it looked like they were smiling. Curious as to what caught Peter’s attention, you followed his gaze.

Whoever this girl was, she was beautiful. Her skin was tan and smooth, and even though she was only in a sweater and a skirt, she still managed to look like a model. Her lips were full and her eyes were warm, and you couldn't help but shiver. You looked down at yourself, noting the dull skin color and frizzy hair, paired with jeans and your old band t-shirt, and wondered if anyone would ever look at you like that.

Glancing at your schedule with a heavy heart and an aching feeling behind your nose, you realized that class started in just five minutes and you still had no idea where you were going.

“Hey, um, do either of you have AP Physics with Mrs. Warren?” You asked.

Ned nodded. “Yeah, Peter does. He could take you there.”

Peter smiled to himself, although it appeared as though he wasn’t even listening to you. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

At that moment, a sharp ringing noise sounded. You cringed at the horrible sound. “That’s the warning bell.” Ned told you.

“I’m gonna be late, shit.” You glanced up at Peter. You grabbed his clothed arm gently, drawing him out of his trance. Looking down at you, you took in the warmth of his dark eyes. “You ready?”

He nodded, head turning to catch the pretty, dark-skinned girl disappear behind a wall of lockers.

As it turned out, you shared all of your classes with Peter Parker. You were grateful to have someone you knew in all of your classes, but you were annoyed at the great probability that Tony had meddled in your scheduling. You had to remind yourself, however, that you were not just here for the hell of it, but you were actually supposed to be “babysitting” the new hero.

But as much as you tried to tell yourself that this was only a mission, you couldn’t help but feel like this was going to turn into something much more.

At the moment, Peter sat next to you with his head buried in the screen of his laptop, as he diligently watched a video of Spider-Man stopping a car from smashing into the side of a bus. You rolled your eyes at his lack of subtly. How did everyone not know his secret by now?

“Okay, so how do we calculate linear acceleration between points A and B?” The teacher pointed to the board, and then to a kid that sat in the row in front of you. “Flash.”

“It’s the product of sine of the angle and gravity divided by mass.” He answered confidently. You snickered, knowing he got it wrong.

“Nope.” Mrs. Warren said. “Peter. You still with us?”

Peter’s head snapped up, only taking a second to look at the board before answering. “Uh, yeah, yeah.” He shut his laptop carefully. “Uh... Mass cancels out, so it’s just gravity times sine.”

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you were impressed at how easily Peter managed to get everything correct, despite the distractions.

The teacher also seemed impressed, but not surprised. “Right. See, Flash, being the fastest isn’t always the best if you are wrong.”

As the class snickered, Flash turned in his seat to Peter and whispered, “You’re dead.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy. You wanted to reach over and smack him upside the head, but you promised to behave. For some reason, Peter had been glancing back at the clock hanging up on the wall every couple of minutes.

The next period, Peter had used the opportunity to mix some of his web fluid right in the middle of class. You were close to screaming at that point. This kid was definitely going to get caught. You made sure to warn him with a harsh whisper whenever the chemistry teacher neared.

After that was lunch. You sat across Ned and Peter, and glanced down the nearly empty table, save for the girl immersed in a book a couple of seats down. Digging into your school-bought lunch, you noticed Peter’s glazed over eyes as his head rested on his propped up arm.

You turned, realizing he was staring at the same pretty girl from earlier, who stood on a ladder, hanging up a paper sign that had “Homecoming Is Almost Here! Are You Ready” in painted cursive. You turned back around, stabbing your steamed broccoli angrily with your fork. 

You weren’t sure why exactly you were mad, you barely knew Peter. Perhaps it was the adoring and endearing look in Peter’s expression that made your stomach twist itself into knots.

“Did Liz get a new top?” Peter said absentmindedly. You glanced up, but he was still transfixed on the girl, Liz. Even her name was beautiful.

No. We’ve seen that before, but never with that skirt.” Ned answered.

“We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy.” Peter mentioned, but it seemed like he wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon.

“Too late.” The girl a couple of seats piped up, startling you. You faintly noticed a purple section in her ponytail. “You guys are losers.” She turned back to her novel.

“And absolutely ludicrous.” You quipped, and met eyes with the girl, who gave you a small, amused smirk in return.

“Well, then why do you sit with us?” Ned pointed out.

“Because I don’t have any friends.” The girl responded, effectively ending the conversation.

Somehow, Tony managed to get you into the Academic Decathlon team with little dispute, which is where you went next.

You sat on the sidelines, observing the team, as Liz quizzed them. The members were funny and eccentric, and you liked most of them, except for Flash, who was on the team somehow.

You watched Peter as he talked to the team’s sponsor, Mr. Harrington. “Peter, it’s Nationals. Is there no way you can take one weekend off?”

“I can’t go to Washington because if Mr. Stark needs me, I have to make sure I’m here.” Peter said, clearly exasperated. You watched him intently, wanting to say something about how Tony would most likely not call on him for another mission again anytime soon, but feared his response in case he grew suspicious.

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark.” Flash shouted.

“Wait, what’s happening?” One girl asked.

“Peter’s not going to Washington.” Said another girl, lying on the floor on her stomach next to them.

Cries of protest came from Peter’s teammates, as one kid, who you knew was Abraham, dinged the bell to ask, “Why not?”

“Really?” Liz asked, genuinely concerned but too sweetly for your liking. “Right before Nationals?”

“He already quit marching band and robotics club.” The girl from lunch, Michelle, Peter told you, mentioned. As heads turned to look curiously at her, she simply shrugged. “I’m not obsessed with him; I’m just very observant.”

“Flash, you’re in for Peter.” Liz announced.

“Oof, I don’t know.” Flash said. “I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Artemis coming up.”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted loudly. “As if.” You scoffed, before realizing what you had said. Everyone looked at you, and you hid your face behind your hair again.

The rest of the school day, Peter grew increasingly restless. By the time the final bell rung, Peter shot out of his seat and bolted for the door.

You could have easily caught up to him if you were allowed to use your powers, and you were practically itching to release the contained energy. But you couldn’t, so you didn’t.

“Peter!” You called out to him, crashing through the doors after him. You saw him jump the extremely tall fence, and cursed at him silently.

Knowing already what you needed to do, you met Happy in the car waiting for you the next street down.

“Happy, take me home, and make it quick. I gotta change.”

TAGLIST:

@phoenix-fire-fangirl @twenty-two-airplanes @i-love-superhero @andyl394 @milllionthingsihaventdone @eliza-hamilton-helpless @pugsandkisses14 @oxodianaoxo @arctxcv @vanam0 @scorpiostunner1027 @prancingdestiel @tmrhollandkay @miathefangirlwriter

[mistymins]

a study in serenity | jjk scenario

◦ jungkook x reader | 3.1k

◦ fluff | stranger things!au | telekinetic!au

⇢ summary: how do you calm down a jealous boy with mind power. you kiss him, of course

Masterfully blending an array of bold eyeshadows has never been so difficult.

You adjusted your earrings in, tucked away loose strands of hair with a bit of hair spray, and tilted your head from side to side at the mirror in examination of your work, thanking whatever miracle it was that your makeup was able to emerge out of the hole of uncertainty looking more satisfactory than the usual “not bad”.

Your red lips curved into a smile, “Look at you, y/n.”

Stepping out of the bathroom whilst smoothing your dress over, you quickly gathered up your belongings as soon as one tiny glance at the clock duly reminds you that he’ll be here soon. Lipstick, powder, mascara…Ah, wallet…!

After pondering for a while where you last recalled setting down the tiny thing, that small light bulb in your head flickered on, promptly sending you with quick steps down the staircase of the house basement—where you also knew a certain someone was broiling in quiet annoyance. Of course, you’ve already broken the news about this change of arrangement, telling him was one thing you made sure to take care of with utmost clarity—he was so fickle with these kinds of things sometimes.

But then again, he wasn’t like other people.

But it’s one Friday night, though. One. It wasn’t as if this was a world crumbling matter to leave a telekinetic guy to his lonesome. On second thought, maybe you should stop hanging on that thought.

Reaching the basement, you spotted the wallet quickly and took it into your possession. Subsequently, you couldn’t help but peer over at him; it had become a habitual thing—this constant checking. You did tell him about tonight, but this feeling of unavoidable worry still lingered like a looming obstacle. Most likely because a typical Friday night usually involved staying in to keep him company. That and shielding his existence from the rest of your family. But honestly, that was a constant, 24/7 hour, job.

And now you were leaving him alone.

He sat at the couch in droning silence, flicking channel after channel of the tv, the old Nintendo DS you had given him—which he so elatedly poked around with the first time you taught him the simple mechanics—now rested desolately to the side.

You flattened your lips, sighed, then figured you should say something before your ride comes, leading you to plop down on the empty space right next to him.

“Um, Jungkook.” Your motion sets those curiously brown eyes in focus over you, “I’ll be leaving the house soon with Taehyung. Remember that my parents will be coming home in a bit so don’t go upstairs, okay?”

He blinks twice, gazing at you but with such noticeably glazed eyes that you were sure he was looking past you rather than at you. You lowered your head, “Okay?” you stress.

Silence.

It was no use, once he was in this moody state of curling up into himself, knees tucked against his chest like an assumed defensive position, there was no getting through with him.

You sighed and rose from the couch to make your way to the flight of stairs. “I’ve left you some food and stuff to drink on the counter, so if you get hungry just—” the table adjacent to you made an unexpectant lurch to the side, nudging you in effect.  You cock your head to the ceiling. You wanna do this right now?

Jungkook was being the Jungkook that he is so you gave him the benefit of the doubt and overlooked that “slip up” as you regain your advancement. But of course, it was unlike of him to test you only once—the chairs that were an extension of the table skidded in front of you, sliding in succession to barricade your pathway after you’ve made attempts to brush around each one of them.

“You can’t stop me from going to the prom!” You voiced as you whipped your head around to glower at him but the telekinetic boy answers you with an overconfident arched eyebrow as if he took your words as a challenging dare.

Okay then. You squint your eyes and purse your lips at him whilst stealthily inching a heel backwards—can you even make it? Your own two feet versus the mind of an unnaturally gifted human, your very own comic book character; except instead of the uncomfortably tight spandex, he wore a plain white shirt and some jeans.

Without even reflecting over the fact that you wore a dress, you took off, bolting rapidly towards and up the stairs, optimistically stretching your hand to that golden door knob in hopes that—slam.

“Dammit, Jungkook.” You fumed.

This was totally and completely unfair of him to pull this stunt. You stay in all these nights, even disregarding your friends’ invitations out because why? You were too preoccupied with a job that is  Jungkook, making sure that he doesn’t wonder off to use his powers and inevitably draw in attention, especially the attention of particularly malicious people.

And it wasn’t like he was incapable of being by himself at home. Most days of the week, you leave him at home—to your paranoia—while you’re away at school.

You just needed time away to enjoy yourself sometimes, and that wasn’t a terrible thing, was it? So what was his big deal?

You trudged back down the stairs with a few words in mind that were already wired to fire at him but unfortunately, the distraction of a ringing phone—your phone—helped stall that wish. Oh shit. Your eyes screamed wide open seeing Taehyung’s name on that screen. He was probably going to tell you that he’s leaving his place right now or that he’s going to be there in a brisk pace of five minutes. You took the call begrudgingly with a seemingly calm ‘hi’, turning your back on Jungkook.

“Hey, y/n!” you hear Taehyung utter from the other side, “I’ll be there in a little bit I just n-need…to…so-mething…”

Static noises begin to scratch in your ears and you replay his name over and over like a broken record player as the sound grows increasingly more intense. Whipping back to Jungkook again, and sure enough, a clear line of blood now slowly trickles as evidence from one side of his nose.

“No, no! I said text! Look, just text me, okay? Phone signal’s weak or something.” Yeah right, you thought as you relayed the words to him in vexation. 

Shoving the phone into the nooks off your hand bag, you furrowed your eyebrows in approach towards Jungkook but it softly pulls back when you see Jungkook’s mouth drawn into a grim line, eyes in avoidance. And then you thought, he couldn’t have known better. He hasn’t exactly been around that many people, let alone the right type of people to know the right way to act.

Damn it, he doesn’t even have to do much for you to forgive and forget; giving him freebies here and there like it was nothing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he rubs his elbow.

“Its fine.”, you snag a tissue off the box and plop down next to him again, “listen, you can’t just use your powers when something is troubling you.  You’re not in—” you stop “well, you know, that place anymore…When we have a problem with something, we don’t use our supernatural powers to try and fix things, we talk.”

You hold the tissue to him until he takes it unto his fingers to wipe away the blood peaking from his nose, the only evidence that surfaces every time he stresses his abilities in the slightest. After a momentary period of silence and a gaze down at your twiddling fingers, you peer over at him, “So, do you have something you want to tell me?” you ask.

“Oh, I, um” he stutters as you raise eyebrows,

“Because you’ve been acting strange all week. You haven’t spoken to me a whole lot today, granted you’re always quiet, but more than usual.” you muse over the facts, tapping your chin dubiously, “and now tonight? The table, the chairs, and you actually barred me from leaving the basement.”

“I’m just worried.” That’s what he says but you think otherwise.

You chuckle, “About me? Jungkook, like I told you, it’s just a stupid event with lots of dancing and fancy clothes. Trust me, the only thing that might be a danger is me getting bored, and I think that’ll happen anyway.” you check your phone for messages, “don’t worry too much, alright? Taehyung’s going to be with me.”

Despite Jungkook fiddling with the phone lines, it was miracle that Taehyung even understood you through the static-like interruption, seeing as though you received one unanswered message from him.

“bad person...” Jungkook murmurs, burying himself in his elbow.

“What?” you answer

“Nothing.” He scratches the back of his head, but you see right through his feigned attempt to appear interested in whatever was on tv.

At that, your forehead puckered over Jungkook’s curiously odd behavior. And it wasn’t even the telepathically-driven movement of the chairs or the door that abruptly shut on your face that defined the oddness of it. No, he had been acting questionably unusual ever since the first mentions about anything even relevant to the prom.  

You mulled over it, and mulled over it, and mulled over it… and then it came to you like some sort of premonition; a funny induction to what all of this was inadvertently confessing to you. It wasn’t the prom, it wasn’t about the dress you were going to wear, or the talk of friends attending, it was whenever you mentioned Taehyung. that often spurred Jungkook.

Oh my god.

“Are you jealous, Jungkook?” you ask in a voice filled to the brim with intrigue.

“J-Jel-Jealous?” he furrows his eyebrows.

“well um” you turned to him, a bit unsure of how to explain this, “okay, it’s like a bunch of feelings you get when someone else has something you want or when someone is recognized more than you. It’s more or less along those lines but yeah...”

You smoothed the wrinkles in your dress, biting your lip to keep the bubbling mound of interest at bay until you capitulate and finally blurt Are you?

You smile, “You are, aren’t you?” your tone emitting a tinging tease to it.

“No, I’m not.” He crosses his arms.

You squint your eyes, you’re not a very good liar, Jungkook. You tried to catch his sight from all possible angles, but he swiftly dodges it as if it were seething fire and retreats further back into the couch.

“Oh come on, you are so totally jealous over Taehyung. Admit it.” When he turns away without a smidge of an answer, you resort to a bout of poking, attacking his sides with a barrage of tickles—which he was able to guard himself against thanks to the protective shield of the couch pillows.

Determined to get an answer out of him, you poked at him further, “Were you thinking of how he was going to steal me away from you? How we’re going to hug and slow dance to corny lovey-dovey songs at the prom” you cooed. “or how we’re going to kiss under the lights.”

Up until now, you’ve never been bothered by the copious amount of times you and Jungkook have held hands. You’ve done it so many times: when you first stumbled upon him and all the times you dragged him along to hide together from the nose of government hounds. But now, the touch of each other’s fingertips as you stop and realize what was happening, evoked only feelings of tenderness. You’ve never really thought about it, you guess…well, not until a little recently.

Jungkook slowly lowers the pillow, breaking away to straighten himself up as he took care to smooth his disheveled brown hair back into the bowl cut that it was. “Y/N, what’s a kiss?” he asks.

Taken aback, you raise your eyebrows and blink a few times—a few more when you found yourself pondering over how you were going to explain this one. But then you thought of something.

You lightly balled your hands on your lap before angling yourself towards him. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about this. “okay, second lesson of the day.” You say gently. He curiously gazes at you when you gesture for him.

Jungkook edges forward on the couch, so very slightly that you couldn’t avoid chuckling at his apprehension. “Closer.” You say again.

When you no longer had to ease him forward, Jungkook was a mere foot away from you, maybe even less. You know what it feels like to be close to him, but not like this, not where you can literally feel so exposed to him. “it won’t be that bad, I promise. At least, I’ll try not to make it bad.” Your lips curved into a half-smile.

He nods reluctantly.

This time, it was your turn to inch closer and it took every strength from within to resist the temptation of fleeing; from his glance, from this situation, everything. Jungkook himself, blinked away a few times but seem to finally get a fixation.

Unsure of why you were doing this in the first place, your fingers found its place atop his nape, swallowing your breath down as you drew closer, head spinning from anxiety.

The nearby lamp casted a lambent glow on Jungkook, the light eliciting a kind of nostalgia that inevitably makes you stop to just take in the sight of him like a dot under a microscope. You brought your hand near to his features where you gently caressed his soft bangs back, fingers navigating along the sides of his face until your hand came to rest against his neck and your thumb settled on his cheek—Jungkook stiff as a pillar.

Who would’ve thought that you and him…The universe sure had funny ways of arranging the unconventional.

“Y/N…” Jungkook murmurs; breathy and anxiously.

You erased the little space that was left between the both of you until you were a short hair from doing the deed. Your expression immediately growing soft upon catching wind of his doe eyes; the lamp’s illumination highlighting two magnifyingly dilated pupils, to which a smile slipped from your lips.

That was it. That was the signal. That revealing detail was enough to propel you away from the hesitation and you felt that nothing can stop you as you leaned in to close the gap. You wanted to take this slow and gentle, as if submitting to the slightest rush could scare him away.

His quickened breathes against your skin impelled you to reassure him, “don’t worry, I’m nervous too…”.

The heart-pounding and gradual contact of each other’s lips sent waves of hair-raising cues throughout the entirety of you.

You could tell that Jungkook had no clue how to follow you, and it was honestly cute, but in hindsight, it didn’t matter because what occupied your mind was how soft his lips felt against yours and the fact that you were kissing him—Jeon Jungkook.

Drunk on the heat of the kiss, all you wanted was for this to sweetly linger on like a fervent spiraling loop, to keep on kissing the inexplicably unique boy who was attached to strings upon strings of mysticism. But you knew you had to break away and you did, but not without the drench of hesitation.

You knew how Jungkook was when he felt overwhelmed; one of the telltale signs was always the abnormal effects he had on his surroundings. And right now, The lights that grew increasingly luminous were not hard to overlook as they began to surge into small stars of their own, but they quickly dwindled back to normalcy once you parted lips with him.

“I’m, I’m sorry I got carried away.” you utter breathily, involuntarily biting your lip at the sight of his blank face while his lips stayed numbed and parted.

He held that unbearably cute mixture of awe and confusion and would’ve been lost in the sea of ‘what-may-have-been’s if you hadn’t taken a step, a curious step, out of bounds.

“Is this what you wanted to do with Taehyung.” he asks.

You blinked, slightly jerking back, “What, no” you say, “Taehyung is just a friend. He’s too much like a brother to me so that would be really weird. And besides, a kiss is usually with someone else, someone that you like.”

You grinned at his unsuccessful attempts to quell the rising hints of a smile, “So does that mean…” he adjusted himself at his seat.

“Yeah, Jungkook, exactly what it means.” You tucked your hair behind your ears, “Listen, I know that it sucks being at my house all day and even though it’s to protect you, I can imagine how boring it must be to not be able to do anything.”

You rose enthusiastically from the couch as if you felt some sort of empowerment when you thought of this idea, and one that was probably too risky to even consider, “let’s go out tomorrow.” you propose.

He widens his eyes, “I know, I know, it sounds like a terrible idea. But” you grabbed him by the hands and pulled him up from the couch, “I can dye your hair, change your clothes, and my dad has these shades I think you’ll like. We’ll be extra careful.” You say, brushing the dust off his broad shoulders.

Silence.

You sigh and then raised your eyebrows, “Bad idea?” you questioned as you silently admitted to yourself how hasty the decision was.

Stupid, stupid. Of course, he wasn’t going agree to your weird proposition, especially one that plainly had him out in the open and in clear exposure to those freaks. But then again, the government was perusing the area for a teenager and even if they deduced that he may have been hiding with someone else, would they have thought that that someone would befriend him?

“What color will my hair be?” you flash a look towards him when he uttered the words you didn’t expect to hear.

A trace of a smile was forming on the tip of his lips when he tastefully nods his head and the black specs on the nearby table casually defies gravity, the natural laws, and flies to land neatly on his palm. Jungkook slips on the shades and you almost burst into laughter at how corny he looks pouting his lips and crinkling his nose in an attempt to look cool and “badass”.

Jeon Jungkook, you are something else.

[k-p-p-d]

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood (M)

Summary: His intentions aren’t necessarily good, but don’t ever let Dr. Kim Minseok be misunderstood.

Warning: graphic content, mentions of torture, minor character death

Length: 3.7k

A/N: Don’t hate me, @admincl.

Previously...

“If they find out, we’re dead.”

Han cut his eyes to the slightly trembling man sat across from him, gaze decidedly annoyed and boyish features pulled down into a scowl. “Ye of little faith, Park.” He sighed, “How long have we been running this operation?”

“About a year--“

“And how much have we made?”

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe about 20 million?”

“USD?”

“Yeah.”

Han nodded, “And how much are we projected to make with just this shipment  alone?”

“Almost 3 million.” Han lifted a brow, wordlessly demanding clarification which the other hurriedly supplied, “USD. Sir.”

“And what’s the conversion rate of USD to yuan?”

“Um,” a beat of silence passed between them as the other man wracked his brain for the right number. Han almost scoffed; what was the point of having an accountant (an American, no less) if he couldn’t even keep track of simple exchange rates.  “It’s 6.62 to 1?”

Han did scoff this time. “Are you asking or telling me?”

“Telling. Sir. It’s 6.62 yen to one dollar.”

“So that means we’re pretty rich, aren’t we?”

The accountant shifted uncomfortably as he affirmed, “Yes, sir, it does.”

“And how many times have we been close to getting caught?”

“Well, none—“

Han hummed as he momentarily contemplated the other man’s answers.  “You know,” he began slowly as he shifted the papers on his desk, “a betting man would say the odds are in our favor.   Would you agree?”

“Yes, sir, I would—“

“And yet, here you are, ready to piss your pants instead of doing your fucking job,” the Chinese man snapped venomously.  “Amazing,” he chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to—“

“Waste my time?” Han interjected icily, making the accountant blanch at the allegation.  He rolled his doe eyes as he dismissively continued, “Well, unfortunately for you, you have.  So you have two options: You can continue to waste my time while I find someone to replace you, which won’t take more than a phone call. Or…” He leaned over his desk until his face was squarely in the other man’s as he growled, “You can get the fuck out of my office and go do whatever the fuck it is I pay you for while I worry about shit far above your paygrade.” Han grinned brightly--his pearly white teeth bared to catch the fluorescent light--as he lilted, “The choice is up to you!”

The American hurriedly scrambled out of the office, leaving Han in peaceful silence.  Fate being the cruel mistress that she was, less than a minute later a harsh knock against his door resounded ominously through his office.  “What?” he gruffly barked, a string of curses flying through his head and ready to roll off his tongue if one Park J--

“Now Lu,” a silvery voice drawled, “is that anyway to greet your guests?”

The Chinese man started as his eyes met the catlike ones belonging to none other than-- “Minseok-ge,” he chirped brightly as he swiftly gathered himself, “what a lovely surprise!” Han rose from his desk and beckoned the man into his office. “I wasn’t expecting you!”

Minseok smiled pleasantly, though the warmth of his smile didn’t reach his eyes, as he shrugged, “I know how much you love surprises so here I am. And I even brought a friend!”

Han’s hackles rose as Kyungsoo sauntered into the room with a broad grin on his cherubic face. “Lu Han-ge, it’s so wonderful to finally see you again,” he greeted the elder smoothly.

“Kyungsoo, if I wasn’t staring at you now, I’d think you were a fellow Beijing son,” he complimented.  “Your Mandarin has improved greatly since the last time I saw you. Yixing has taught you quite well.”  Kyungsoo only hummed in response as he gracefully dropped into one of the oversized leather armchairs sat in the elder’s office.  Han couldn’t help the downward tick of his lips at the presumptuous action of the younger (especially after said younger had criticized the exact same chairs on his last visit--”They’re comfortable but they’re not black”) but he quickly recovered and waved an arm towards the other seat as he courteously offered in Korean, “Please, have a seat, Minseok-ssi.”

The chemist shook his head and declined in Mandarin, “No, thank you.  I’d prefer to stand as I’ve been sitting all evening so far. But please, don’t stand on just my behalf.”  Despite the friendliness in his voice, Han knew the polite request was a thinly veiled command; and to disobey Minseok in any way would be to incur the punishment of Kyungsoo. So he sat, eyes lowered slightly and lips spread into a demure smile.  “Business has been doing quite well for us lately, hasn’t it,” the eldest began as he lazily thumbed through the opened ledger sat on the desk between them.

“Yes, it has.  Would you like for us to speak in Korean for Kyungsoo’s sake or…?” Han proffered.

“If his Mandarin wasn’t sufficient, he wouldn’t be here,” Minseok returned warmly as he glanced toward the youngest, who simply beamed at them both. Turning back toward Han, he flicked the ledger shut and sighed, ”You look tired, Lu. Are you resting well?”

There was something about the eldest man’s countenance which made Han shift uncomfortably in his seat. He was far too calm, far too collected.  Something was off and Han didn’t know what, but his body was on high alert as his mind ran through every possible scenario that would let him escape this encounter with his life. “They say there’s no rest for the wicked and considering the bags under my eyes, I’d say it’s true,” he answered with a lighthearted chuckle.

Minseok leaned forward slightly to curiously examine the other man’s eyes, felinesque eyes narrowed and gaze piercing, and not for the first time that evening did Han feel as if he were baited prey one wrong move away from death. The chemist’s mouth twitched downward as he straightened up. With a solemn nod he declared, “You need a vacation, Lu.”

“A vacation would be nice, but—”

“That wasn’t up for debate.”

Han blanched.  An icy chill spiked through his blood vessels and his heart skidded to a halt as panic flooded his system.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sharp ones staring so intensely into his but his ears didn’t miss the sounds of Kyungsoo fishing out his favorite switchblade from his pocket.  

This was it.  

This was the end.  

His senses kicked into overdrive as his body readied itself to either put up a fight or take flight.  If he tried to fight, he would definitely die.  Even though the gun he had latched to the underside of his desk would give him a slight advantage, Kyungsoo was 77 for 0. If he tried to escape, he’d still have to fight his way out of the office, putting him right back at the end of Kyungsoo’s blade. Every scenario he played in his head all ended the same: Him on the floor, lifeless body cold and bloodied and wide eyes vacant staring blankly into darker, wider ones as a signature tally mark was sliced into his forearm. The odds were not in his favor.

Staring Death in the eyes was a funny thing, Han realized bitterly. Being confronted with one’s own mortality so suddenly could make a person as desperate to live as a sewer rat trying to find food.  But he wasn’t a sewer rat: He had reasoning and he had cunning. No matter what he did, someone was going to die today.  But that didn’t mean it had to be him.

Han grinned warmly, “Well, I have always wanted to go to Macau as a tourist, especially with the way Yifan drones on and on about its beauty.  When should I go?”

Minseok smiled, again the mirth of his gummy smile failed to reach his icy glare, “Tonight.  You can take the yacht.”

“Wonderful.” The Chinese man reached toward the desk phone, “I’ll just notify my secr--”

“That won’t be necessary,” Kyungsoo interrupted, his smooth baritone voice hung thick and heavy in the air as if it were trying to smother the feeble flicker of hope for survival surging through Han’s body.

Minseok pushed the phone to the farthest corner of the desk as he explained, “We’ve already arranged everything for you and your secretary will be notified of your departure after we conclude our business here.  Now whether or not you’re able to enjoy your vacation in one or two or seven pieces is entirely dependent upon you.”

“I’m not quite sure—“ Minseok clicked his tongue loudly. “You have such an interesting face,” he mused. Lazily he stroked the back of his thumb against Han’s full cheek, causing the other man to startle at the sudden and highly intimate touch. “It gives you such a boyishly aloof charm, did you know that? Of course you did because you yourself aren’t aloof about the effects your looks have on others. You’re not aloof about anything really. So before you even think to try to lie to me again, know this: Your charm has no effect on me and I won’t even bat an eye while Kyungsoo slices it off.”

“He really won’t!” the disconcertingly cheerful psychopath brightly chimed in at the mention of his name.

Han gulped, barely managing to stammer, “T-that won’t be n-necessary, I’m sure.”

“Let’s hope not.”  Minseok smirked, and this time his eyes glowed brightly with a sinister glint.  “Kyungsoo, do you mind?”

“Not at all.”  In the blink of an eye, Kyungsoo’s strong arms were wrapped tightly around Han’s body--one arm around his waist and the other constricting along his neck as a hand pressed the smooth edge of the sharp blade into his carotid--in a deadly snare.  He felt in that moment every bit like the deer his features made him resemble.

The chemist casually strode past the two men to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them.  He inhaled deeply as he carefully surveyed the twinkling lights of the city sprawled beneath them.  He’d always loved Beijing and there truly was no better view of the city than this. Maybe after it was all over, he thought absentmindedly, he’d permanently relocate here; after all, Han wouldn’t be in much need of an office anymore.  Shrugging, he plucked up the ornate glass decanter from the table next to him.  “I won’t insult your intelligence by saying I know you’re probably wondering what this is really all about,” he began in a honey-coated purr as he smoothly poured the amber liquid into an equally ornate tumbler.  “Someone has been stealing from me and I need to know who.”

“Minseok, I don’t ha—” 

The words died in Han’s constricted throat as the blade pressed harder into the soft, vulnerable flesh. “Ah, ah, gege; don’t break my heart and make me have to kill you,” Kyungsoo murmured darkly in his ear, the heat of his breath making the trembling man’s ripple with chills. “That’d be such a shame because I truly do like you. Good company is so hard for me to come by these days.”

The soft clink of glass drew Han’s attention back toward the other Korean. “Kyungsoo finds liars to be incredibly rude,” the eldest stated matter of factly. Minseok lifted the glass to the light to admire the clarity of the glowing liquid. “You have very excellent taste, Lu,” he complimented, “very excellent taste, indeed, in so many things. Whiskey, women, wingbacks. So unfortunate your taste doesn’t extend into your hiring practices. Could have saved us all so much trouble.” He shrugged before taking a swig of his drink. “Thankfully, you’re incredibly observant so I’m certain you know exactly who’s responsible.” He walked back around until he was staring into the man’s doe eyes. “All we need is a name.”

The way he saw it, Han had three choices: He could confess, play dumb, or lie.  If he confessed, he’d be separated from his beloved neck then and there. If he played dumb, he’d be subjected to whatever sadistic torture tactics swirling in Kyungsoo’s twisted mind; torture, while not fun, was survivable and he knew plenty of skilled surgeons who owed him a favor or two.  If he lied, well… 

Lying had always been his strongest suit.

Han swallowed hard, a grimace crossing his face as the blade dug into his Adam’s apple. Slowly, he raised both of his hands. “There’s a file in my desk,” he began, “with all the intel I’ve gathered on Park Jaebeom. The key to the drawer is in my pocket.” He motioned cautiously with a finger to left leg, “If I may…” 

Minseok assented with a nod and Kyungsoo loosened his grip on Han’s waist. Han swiftly fished out the silver key and handed it to the man behind him. Kyungsoo leaned their bodies forward—the blade digging that much harder into Han’s throat—so he could unlock the drawer. Standing them both back up, the younger slid the file across the glass surface of the desk toward the chemist, who lazily flicked it open and thumbed through every sheet in the file.  Minute after minute crawled past at an excruciatingly slow pace. Han knew it was essential to keep his composure yet his racing thoughts had his breath threatening to hitch with every heartbeat. At long last, the chemist closed the file and straightened his posture. “Well,” he sighed, “I must apologize for ever doubting you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Han managed a smile, “You’re forgiven.”  

The chemist flashed his signature gummy grin before he waved his hand to signal Kyungsoo to stand down. Reaching out, he ghosted his fingertips over Han’s tender throat as he checked the reddened flesh for any cuts. “How’s your throat feel?”

Han wanted to scoff at the absurdity of the question and careful touches but instead he shrugged, “Best shave of my life.”

Minseok chuckled lightly as he pushed the phone back toward the center of the desk. “Do you mind?” he posed sweetly while handing the receiver to the other man. Another threatening demand painted in the soft hues of a polite request. Han gingerly took the receiver. “What should I tell him?”

“That you need to see him,” he tossed over his shoulder as he refilled his glass.

“Right.” 

“It’s important for you to act natural,” Kyungsoo stressed as he slithered to stand beside the door. “That shouldn’t be too difficult for you to manage, right?”

Han chose to ignore the barb in favor of swiftly dialing the familiar number. “Get your ass in here,” he barked harshly before slamming the receiver down. “How was that?” he inquired sheepishly. Minseok simply nodded, not even bothering to turn around from where he stood at the window.

A few moments passed before a soft knock sounded on the door. “You wanted to see me, sir?” a muffled voice called.

Han reflexively rolled his eyes and flatly quipped, “No. I wanted to see your mother. Now get your ass in here and give me her number.”

The world itself seemed to suddenly spin in slow motion to Han as the door slid open. He watched as Jaebeom stepped into the well-laid snare he had so desperately rigged. And in the exact instant the steel jaws of reality bit down viciously into Han’s conscience, Kyungsoo sprang into action with a brutal elbow strike to the back of his prey’s head, the blow rendering the man into a crumpled heap on the floor. Han could barely breathe, could barely think, could barely choke down the clammy grip of guilt as it struggled to claw its way out of his throat and past his lips in a scream of horror while he helplessly watched Kyungsoo almost gleefully tore Jaebeom’s tongue from his mouth, ripping a bloodcurdling shriek of agony from the bloodied man. Kyungsoo patted his cheek with his right hand while lifted the severed tongue to where its previous owner could ogle at it. “Can’t lie if you can’t speak,” he explained, smoothly switching to Korean. He flung the useless muscle across the room where it landed at Han’s feet. “He certainly won’t be needing that anymore,” he commented in Mandarin with a wink at the elder. 

Turning back to the trapped man beneath him, he ghosted the handle of his blade across Jaebeom’s trembling throat. “Good evening, Jaebeom-ssi. My name is Do Kyungsoo and that man over there is Kim Minseok. I presume you know who we are. Now Minseok-hyung is going to ask you some questions; you will nod for ‘yes’ and shake your head for ‘no.’ If your answers don’t satisfy hyung, I’ll take another piece of you until there’s nothing left. If your answers are satisfactory, you might just make it out of here in two pieces. Assuming of course you want your tongue back…” Jaebeom thrashed weakly beneath him, a desperate sob gurgling out of him and splattering blood across his captor’s cheeks. Kyungsoo clicked his teeth. He hated messes. He haphazardly tore a strip of fabric from the accountant’s shirt and stuffed it into his mouth. “Is that better?” Jaebeom sobbed harder.

“Lu Han tells me you’re the man behind the delay and alterations of my shipments. Is that correct?” Minseok questioned tersely. Jaebeom vehemently shook his head as he tried to deny it. “Pick a number, Lu,” the chemist instructed.

Han tore his eyes away to stare bewildered at Minseok. “W-what?”

“Pick a number. 1-10.”

“I-I don’t...7?”

“Your lucky number. How fitting.”

A muffled howl pierced the air, dragging Han’s attention back down in enough time to see Kyungsoo casually fling a severed ring finger over his shoulder. “Let’s try this again,” Minseok insisted evenly. “You started your operation in December, correct?” Jaebeom nodded. “You purposefully remove less than a half ounce from each individual package, correct?” Another nod. “You repackage those ounces with your own branding to sell as your own, correct?” Nod. “You smuggle exactly 5 grams to my direct competition Jung Hoseok so he can keep his drug competitive to mine, correct?” Head shake. “Is that name unfamiliar to you? Perhaps you know him by another. Professor Hope?” Head shake. “Dr. Sun?” Head shake. “Sunshine Man?” Head shake. “His other one, Kyungsoo.” Another howl, another severed finger.

Han wanted to close his eyes and scratch out the savage images permanently etched into his corneas.  He wanted to block out his ears and purge the gruesome screams echoing in his ringing ear drums. But he couldn’t. If he showed an ounce more of horror than appropriate, then his ruse would come crashing down and it would be him under Kyungsoo’s unforgiving knife. So he forced himself to look unto the chaos he had wrought. And with every slice of the blade into Jaebeom’s flesh, he forced himself not to lose his stomach. He had been boxed into a corner and he had made his decision; this was the consequence of his action, but it would be all worth it because he would be alive. 

The interrogation seemed to carry on for hours until Minseok exhaled heavily as he turned towards the Chinese man. “I am so sorry you had to witness this, Lu.” He fixed a drink and handed it to him before fixing himself one. “At least we have our answers. Cheers.” He clinked their glasses together and downed his own, sharp gaze never leaving Han’s face. Han robotically unclenched his jaw to guzzle the burning liquid.

Kyungsoo swiped his bloodied fingers through Jaebeom’s sweaty hair as he whispered, “Hush now, it’ll all be over soon. We know he’s behind all of it. It’s just that business is business and you’re also complicit so we have to make an example out of you. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure he gets ten times worse than what I’ve given you, all of which you’ve taken so well by the way.” Jaebeom’s nostrils flared as he struggled to scream out despite the tattered fabric stuffed down his throat. Kyungsoo gazed down at the desperate man with a look akin to paternal pride (if he was capable of feeling such a thing, he was certain this was the right moment for it), a heavy sigh escaping his full lips. He really did admire the fighters. They always made for the best memories. “You’ve definitely been one of my favorites to play with but now I must set you free.”

One final stroke of the cheek was all the warning given before Kyungsoo plunged his knife deep into his victim’s neck. As gently as he could manage, Kyungsoo laid the dying man down onto the pale wood floor. He hummed low in his chest with satisfaction as he intently gazed into the glassy eyes staring back at him in horror, the bass of the noise vibrating the tense atmosphere and rippling through Han’s shaken core. The Chinese man drew in a ragged breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the scene—the murder scene—that had just unfolded before him. 

He…

Jaebeom was…

Kyungsoo had…

A crisp chill raced down his spine as Minseok’s dulcet voice sliced through the still air, “Don’t let me be misunderstood: This is not mercy, this is a stay of execution.  I know you were behind this and I know every single detail of your little operation. I’ve had surveillance on you since March and none of your lackeys are intelligent enough or capable of the level of deception and restraint this requires. The only reason you are alive right now is because you are slightly more valuable to me than…” Minseok’s voice trailed off as he flicked his eyes toward where Kyungsoo was hunched over carving a tally mark into the forearm of his fresh kill, “whoever that was, is simply because of who you know.  But understand that you, too, are expendable.” He polished off his drink—piercing eyes never breaking contact as he did—before he made his way to the door. Just as he wrapped a hand around the handle, he turned his head just so to glance back at the visibly shaken man behind him. “One day, Death is going to come back for you; and on that day, you’ll be just another tally mark.”

Continue...

—Admin Lily

[averywiseanimatedcat]

The ultimate reveal

OK so this has been sitting on my computer for ages while I tweak it but I’m sick of playing with it IT IS TIME TO PUT MY MINDS RAMBLINGS OUT THERE.

Summary:

My personal version of how Lucifer would eventually reveal himself to Chloe (involves drama, death...angel wings...the sinnerman...oh and a new power)  and yup. Might be a part 2 comiiinggggggg....? 

Has blood n shit, no smut (yet) 

“I think you’ve interfered with my business long enough Decker…”

Chloe swore through the rag stuffed uncomfortably in in her mouth. The Sinnerman smirked, his breath brushing the skin on her face. He raised his gun up to Chloes forehead. Just as she closed her eyes, waiting for the end,  a massive thud startled her captor. Looking around, the guards surrounding them looked just as confused, the thump came again, louder this time. It was coming from the massive metal doors that lead down into the underground of the warehouse. The gaurds all raised their weapons, forming a semi circle around the doors as the horrendous sound shook the floor. For a moment, the warehouse fell silent. Only the hushed mumblings of the gaurds could be heard. Suddenly the unmistakable sound of the hinges ripping from the concrete walls assaulted their ears. The lock held for a moment before breaking and clanging to the floor.  One contorted door creeked and slammed to the ground, flinging a cloud of concrete dust into the faces of the shocked men. The guards coughed as they peered into the darkness, the second door had vanished. It was silent for a moment, until a pair of glowing red eyes materialized from the shadow. The men fired into the doorway, and the unmistakable high pitch sound of bullets ricocheting off metal echoed around the building. The second door flew from the darkness and collected half of the Sinnermans men like bowling pins, sending them flying across the warehouse. At the same time, a huge, white blur unfurled from the gloom and swept away the others with a single, smooth stroke. Chloe tore her eyes away for a second, only to be further confused. The Sinnerman had barely twitched,  he stood with the same sticky grin on his lips, watching the chaos unfold. One word slipped from his mouth that made Chloes whole body run cold  

“Lucifer.”

Stepping out from the dark, a crimson skinned devil revealed himself.  His stride was unmistakable, he wore the same waistcoat and shoes she commented on earlier in the morning. She’d known him to be a fan of patterned clothing. He had to fold his massive wingspan to fit out the doorway, a the uncurled into the warehouse, Chloe gasped at the size of them.

“I knew I couldn’t keep you contained for long…not from the detective here anyway.”

The Sinnerman stepped infront of her, casually swinging the pistol around his finger.

A voice rumbled through the warehouse that seemed to sink into Chloes bones, husky and deep, it took her mind many seconds to realize it was Lucifer speaking  

“Don’t you touch her.”

“Oh I won’t…I mean. Who would? With you as her guard dog…”

He laughed and Lucifer grew visibly agitated.

“Look at this….the great Lucifer. The devil…the most evil creature in all of creation, reduced to what…”

“I’m not EVIL!”

Lucifers wings vibrated with rage, and his eyes appeared to sing with fire. The Sinnerman did not flinch, he tutted and replied

“Empty threats…I served you for millennia you know, did your bidding, your dirty work. Tortured the souls you wanted tortured. Went there, did this…and what did you do? Left me?

A look of recognition crossed Lucifers face

“Hell has gone to well…hell, since you left. None of the other demons will listen to me . I was their master for years, and now they treat me like one of these pathetic humans you care for so dearly!”

“I thought you would be happy, you dirty lot could do what you like. Run hell how you always wanted.”

“AH! But that’s just the thing, they can’t decide who to listen to. All they can scream is master master where is our master!

“So what, you came down here and did all this just to send me back to hell?”

“Essentially yes. Weeell…that was the original plan. Then I found this whole criminal mastermind thing quite fun.”  

Lucifers eyes flicked to Chloe for the first time, she instinctively looked away, unable to hold the burning gaze.

The Sinnerman grinned at the exchange between them, he gently caressed the gun in his hands.

“Now I know why you like it here so much Lucifer, but despite my attraction to the place, I can’t ignore my primal duty to hell, I’ve had this…itch. Since I came here, unfortunately my creation burdens me with a task, hell must have a ruler.”

He slowly brought the gun to rest on the side of Chloe’s head, tilting it over uncomfortably.

Lucifer went to move but the Sinnerman raised a single finger and stopped him in his tracks

“Ah, ah, ah little devil….you have something I want.”

The Sinnerman held out his hand, his long, thin fingers gracefully beckon at the devil. Lucifer furrowed his brows in confusion. The Sinnerman rolled his eyes and sighed

“They’re in your left breast pocket.”

In a wave, the crimson colour in Lucifers face and eyes melted away. The wings remained, but once again the Lucifer Chloe knew stood before them. He suddenly seemed very weak as he reached under his jacket. Pausing, he locked eyes with Chloe. After all their cases, the near death experiences they’d been through, the ridiculous events and emotional trials…after all that she could not read the feeling that passed between them in that moment. But it pushed something inside her, something desperate and urgent, like it was something she should know. Ripping his gaze away, he presented two strange, curved blades from his pocket. He started to step foreward, but the Sinnerman tutted again and approached himself. The exchange of the knives was careful and suspicious, but neither party acted. As he retreated, 3 of the gaurds who had managed to recover  surrounded them. They all trained their guns on Lucifer. The Sinnerman chuckled and admired the hardware in his hands.

“Such craftsmanship…I knew you would bring them. But I think you’ve been away to long…you’ve forgotten…I’m not like you, I don’t care much for deals…”

“NO!”

Lucifers voice bellowed through the warehouse, the seconds seemed to melt into hours as the Sinnerman gripped the pistol in his hands, aiming it at Chloes head. Whatever sound travelled through the air, Chloe did not hear it. What she saw played out silently like those action movies Trixie and Maze loved watching together. In the split second after the Sinnerman raised his hand, Chloe saw Lucifers face travel through a thousand emotions, she watched on helplessly as the 3 gaurds braced their weapons  against their shoulders. Time appeared to slow, and what transpired would be something she played over in her head, again…and again… Lucifers wings arched like a bird about to take flight, his whole body curled down into a crouch. As his hands met the floor, a blinding light sprung from the ground, as it blinded her a force catapulted her backwards. Still strapped to the chair, she landed painfully on her side, her head connecting hard with the concrete. Still unable to see, she struggled, only to find her arms and legs had been freed. Lost on her hands and knees, her vision began to clear and she could see her hands spread out on the floor, bruised and bleeding from her fall. Standing, multiple dull thuds pierced the ringing in her ears, she could see the Sinnerman standing a few feet infront of her. At her feet, one of the knives…snatching it up she did her best to run before he noticed her. With all the force she could muster, she drove the knife into the centre of the Sinnermans back. He whole body went ridged, contorting, his dropped the pistol in his hands.  A ghastly, wheezing sound escaped his lungs before he fell to the floor. She quickly retrieved is pistol, unsure if he was dead or alive. But it was empty…Looking up, she realized that she haddn’t just fallen, she’d been throw halfway across the building. And back where they had started, a lone body lay lifeless on the floor, white wings stained red.

“Lucifer!”

It took her only a second to reach him,despite the dizziness threatening to knock her over a second time. Kneeling beside him, she worked quickly to find some sign of life.

“Lucifer?!”

Cupping his chin in her hands, skin still radiated warmth against her palms. There was no pulse…no breath…his eyes were closed. Blood had pooled bellow his chest, and that patterned waitcoat she had thought so unusual for him was ruined by bulletholes.

Clutching his hand, she sat back trying to swallow to sob in her throat. He couldn’t be gone, not like this. Not when she had just learnt the truth.

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

Lucifer woke to the familiar drone of screams and creaking rock.

“Bloody hell…”

Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on the cold, grey floor of his win kingdom.  

“…literally.”

There was no one around to laugh at that,  and there wouldn’t be again. Demons didn’t have much sense of humor.

Getting to his feet and dusting himself off, he somehow knew Chloe would be safe. As the Sinnerman fired his final shots, Lucifer had seen Chloe closing on him with the knife. All the other guards would’ve at least be knocked out by whatever it was he had done. Nothing like that had ever happened, but he would have millennia to think about it now.  

Hell looked very much the same, nothing ever changed here. He went to go and find his old quarters; no doubt some of those pesky demons had taken it over for themselves, squabbling over who would wear the throne since he was gone. His mind void, he walked in silence past the various doors and entrances to the prisons people created for themselves. There was a strange cramp in his hand that had worsened ever since he woke up. Flexing it, he tried to shake the feeling and after a visual expectation it seemed to fade. I’m gong crazy, he thought. If I haven’t already.

The door to his throne room was up ahead, he stopped and gazed at the magnificently decorated doors for a moment. One door was ajar, he snorted and thought about how he hated leaving them like that, letting any old demon walk in as they please to pester him.

He went to take a step but was jolted back suddenly, like someone had tied a rope around his waist. Suddenly spinning, the world was not still, disorientated, he tried to right himself but got stunned backwards again. Staggering, his vision faded to black as he hit the floor again.

Chloe was trying to wipe the tears from her face, she didn’t want the backup team to see her in such a mess. Suddenly there was a gasp and a rush of air. She was knocked backwards before scrambling up again to a sight that made her want to scream. Lucifers eyes shoot open and his body was contorting, causing his wings to thrash wildly. Gulping for air, he franticly pawed at his chest in confusion while he cried out  

“Chl….Chloe?!”

Coughing and spluttering, he spat up blood and tried to get to his feet. But his legs fell out from under him, causing him to land awkwardly on his side with a grunt, Chloe ducked under a wing and rushed forward to help him.

“No! No, stay down!”

He sat up as Chloe ripped open his vest and shirt, using her jacket, she wiped away the drying blood and found…nothing. No wounds, no scars… dropping the jacket she sat back on her knees in shock whispering  

“That’s impossible…”

Slowly, her eyes took in the sight before her. Lucifer sitting, unharmed with his massive angel wings spread out on either side. They seemed to glow with a divine aura.. Clearly dazzed, his eyes were wild as they darted around the warehouse

“How did I get back here….”

He looked at Chloe with an accusing stare

“What did you do?!”

Chloe struggled to make words and stuttered

“Nothing….I….you were dead…you got shot!?”

“Yes…I noticed.”

He looked down at his ruined outfit and sighed heavily. His wings folded back and disappeared. Chloe shook her head in disbelief and breathed

“How are you here?”

Her eyes showed fright, but her voice was happy and shivering. A fresh flood of tears fell from her eyes and she threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her shaking body and buried his face in her shirt, breathing in her smell and letting her cry into his shoulder. Eventually she let go and asked

“Can you stand up?”

Lucifer nodded and she helped him to get to his feet, which were weak and struggling to hold his weight. Without even thinking, Chloe lent up and kissed him hard on the lips. Just as quickly, she withdrew in shock at herself, but kept her hands on him at all times. Lucifers mind was a mess, foggy from the being dead for about 3 minutes thing, but did Chloe just kiss him? Resolving to talk about it later, he shook his head and suggested they find a different shirt for him because everyone would wonder why there’s blood all over his and 3 holes for gunshot wounds. Chloe agreed and swapped his for one off the guard. He shriveled up his nose at the cheap material but kept quiet. Chloe noted the large scars on his shoulder blades she’d seen in his apartment long ago as he shrugged on the fresh shirt had gone.

‘No that’s where I cut my wings off…well Maze did, I told her to.’

Backup arrived soon after and they were separated to be checked by the ambulance staff. Lucifer complained bitterly but sat while he was checked over. Chloe had allot of cuts and bruises, a mild concussion and rope burn. The second she was let go, she found Lucifer, who was still being held by the ambulance staff who were completely bamboozled by the amount of blood on him without any wounds.

“Ah, finally Detective can you tell these morons I’m FINE and they can stop groping me.”  

Chloe gestured to the paramedics, they seemed unconvinced but retreated into their ambulance. Chloe and Lucifer stared at each other for a minute, the events of the day spun around in Chloes head and she suddenly felt dizzy again. Lucifer quickly grabbed her arm and she steadied herself.

“I’m fine…just…actual devil thing…”

Lucifer quickly snatched his hand away and retreated, she stopped him and gently touched his forearm

“No…it’s alright. I mean…it makes more sense than any of the other ideas I had.”

“And what were those?”

“I don’t know…lunatic…son of some criminal mastermind.”

Lucifer smirked

“Not entirely untrue.”

Chloe smiled and nodded

“Oh…right. Yea.”

An awkward silence fell between them before Lucifer offered

“I think you need to go home, rest. You took a nasty fall.”

“I did. I’m probably not ok to drive though…”

“I’ll drive you.”

The journey to Chloes place was silent, pulling up, the lights were all off. Trixie must’ve been with Dan. Maze was never able to be pinned down lately. Before Chloe got out of the car, she looked at Lucifer, who seemed to be avoiding her eye.

“You know I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway…why don’t you come in. We can talk about it.”

“I really think you should rest…”

“I don’t think lying in bed all night thinking about how my partner has been the actual devil this entire time counts as rest.”

“If you insist, Detective. But I think I’ll go home first and change…”

“Alright. Aslong as you promise to come back.”

Lucifer paused, looking like a cornered animal. Eventually he smiled, the first genuine smile of the day.

“Promise.”

And now she knew he wasn’t lying. Sure enough, he stuck to his word. And 20 minutes later he knocked on her door in fresh clothes. No trace of the drama that unfolded visible.

[stickytablet]

Reunion

I’m a self indulgent shmuck who decided to write a longer-than-normal TSSM Poly Sandman/Rhino/Reader with an established relationship set in the episode Group Therapy.

Enjoy.

“-Sandman and Rhino, you’ll enter first, at which point Shocker, you’ll-” Doctor Octopus continued to talk about who would go where and what everyone would do upon the arrival of the Web-Head, taking sips of dearly missed decent coffee every few minutes.

The Sandman lent over to whisper in the ear of his partner as the Doc droned on. “Hey, O’Hirn, we should probably call them or somethin’, right? Like, let them know we’re back.”

“Yeah, probably should.”

“Then if we’re all in agreement,” the Doc raised his voice, catching their attention, “We shall make our way to Times Square. It would be a shame to keep Spider-man waiting.” The Six rose and began to make their way to the small bus that resided in the center of the warehouse. Sandman and Rhino made quick work of catching up to the Doctor.

“Hey, Doc?”

“Yes, Sandman?”

“Well, me n’ Rhino here have a call to make ‘for we go.”

Octavius released a sigh at the inconvenience but pointed a metal claw in the direction of the warehouse’s landline phone. “Be quick about it.”

You never really enjoyed waiting tables, but it did pay your bills. Or, at least, what bills you could afford to pay. So, you welcomed the distraction when your phone lit up with an unknown number during your break.

“Hello, this is (y/n).”

“Guess who’s back, babe?” You could recognize that voice anywhere. The pencil you had been twirling in your fingers fell to the ground.

“Flint, oh my god is that you?!” You could feel your heart in your throat. Ryker’s refused you visitation time, calls, or mail, citing each as a threat to security. To hear his voice again was an answer to your prayers.

“The one and only!” His smugness had you laughing through tears of joy and you could hear Alex’s booming voice in the background demanding to be put on. “Listen, babe, we can’t talk long and Alex wants to talk to ya, too. I love you.”

You smiled fondly at the reverence with which he said those three little words, knowing he must have missed you just as much as you missed them. “I’ve missed you. I love you, too, Sunshine.”

You could hear the phone being shuffled around before a deeper voice filled the line.

“I missed you. So much.”

You sniffled a bit before replying, “I missed you, too.”

“…Are you crying?” He seemed genuinely confused about it.

“I’m just so happy to hear your voices again. I love you both so much. Are you okay?” You could hear something high pitched on the other end and Flint telling him to hurry it up. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry, gotta go. We’ll call you later, ‘kay? Love you, моя́ сла́дкая.”

“I love you, too, hun, but wher-” The call ended abruptly. You were left listening to the low beeps as you processed the rushed conversation.

The next call came much later, at 8 PM.

“Yes? This is (y/n).”

“Hey, baby, it’s Alex. Listen, we need a hostage.”

“…You want me to be your hostage?”

“Nothin’ bad ‘s gonna happen! I just figured this would be a good way to get to see you.”

You let a moment of silence pass before you sighed. “Where do you guys need me?”

“…HEY ELECTRO! WHAT PLACE ARE WE HOLDIN’ UP?” You had to pull the phone away for a second, a smile slipping onto your face at his boisterousness. “It’s the Metro Bank in about thirty minutes.”

“And you can promise I’m not going to get like, accidentally shot at or anything? I mean, I trust you and Flint but I’ve never met your…friends? Acquaintances? Associates in Spider bashing?”

“Promise. If they even think about thinkin’ about it, I’ll smash ‘em myself.”

“Thank you, babe. Well, I guess I’ve got some checks to cash. I’ll be there as soon as I can; I love you, stay safe.”

“Love you too, baby. See ya soon.”

You had been waiting outside of the bank for a while when you noticed something through the front windows. Sand was spilling down from the high ceiling and piling onto the floor, shifting into a human shape before it took on the appearance of your boyfriend. You were so caught up in seeing him again that you didn’t notice the approaching Montanan until you felt the gauntlet on your back.

“You’re O’Hirn and Marko’s darlin’?”

“Yes? Wh-”

“Why ain’t you inside?”

“…The bank’s closed on Saturday. Does that glove have a safety switch or something?”

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna hurt you none. We just need to make this look believable.” His words did little to ease your tense posture and you began to wonder where Flint had disappeared to. He soon emerged from out of the back room and, noticing you, quickly made his way to open the front door. The man behind you grabbed your arm.

“Babe!” Flint’s smile spread wider and grew brighter now that you were just in front of him. “God, it’s been fore-”

“Ah! Reunions later, get inside.” The Montanan dragged you into the bank, pushing past a disgruntled Sandman. “You took care of them cameras?”

“Yes, will you let g-”

“Alarms?”

“Duh, now let the-”

“Mics?”

“Will you just let my partner go?!”

They stared each other down for a second before Shocker relented and wandered off to the bank vaults, cussing under his breath about unprofessionalism and amateur hour.

There was a quiet moment, neither of you quite sure what to say, but your happiness at seeing him just couldn’t be contained. You quickly closed the short distance between you and leapt into his arms, pure joy radiating from your laughter. Flint chuckled at your enthusiasm and used your momentum to spin you around.

“You miss me?” he said with a knowing smirk, mirth lacing his voice.

“So much I won’t even comment on how different you feel.” It was true; despite how tightly he tried to pack himself or how smooth he tried to make himself, you could still feel some granules rub off from where you held him and his “skin” seemed rougher, almost like a cat’s tongue. Regardless, you buried your head into the crook of his neck, eyes falling shut as you tried to memorize every little detail of this moment. God, you missed being wrapped up in his hold. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, quietly mumbling into each other’s skin.

“Babe,” he said softly, gently nudging you. You hummed in reply. “Babe. Look at me.”

You were hesitant to change your rather comfortable position, but complied. His eyes were half lidded and he wore the softest smile you’d ever seen on him. He moved a hand from your back to cup your face, gently stroking your cheek. Wait, was your cheek wet? Shit, you didn’t even know that you’d been crying. You quickly swiped the tears from your other eye with the back of your hand, wiping it off on your clothes before you moved to his face, brushing over his pronounced cheekbones with a thumb and leaning in to give him a kiss. It certainly felt…odd, but not nearly as bad as it could have been. Pulling away, you rested your forehead against his.

“I’m afraid that if I let go,” you whispered as softly as you could, “You’re going to disappear and I’ll never be able to see you again.”

“No no no,” he gently chided, “That’s not gonna… It’s gonna be okay, sugar. Those cops aren’t gonna be locking me or Alex up anytime so-”

“Are you two done yet?”

“Wow, can you ruin a moment or what.”

Shocker leaned against the wall, two bags of cash richer and now in possession of one of Sandman’s famous deadpans.

“I told Rhino they was here, so he’ll prolly be runnin’ in any minute, but we still gotta make the call to lure in the bug. A hostage is about as useful as tits on a boar hog if no one knows about em.”

“…I’m not entirely sure that’s an actual thing people say but…ok?” He reluctantly put you down, took your hand, and followed Shocker into the back room.

The Enforcer removed the phone from off the wall, dialed three little numbers, and handed the phone off to you. “You’re in a hostage situation with other people and we’re demanding $7,000 ransom.”

“Hello, this is 911, please state your emergency.”

“M-my name is (y/n), I’m at the Metro Bank on 53rd. We’re being held h-hostage by those uh escaped convicts.”

“Ma’am, who’s we?”

“Me and…uh…about five other people…oh god.” The sound of glass shattering and a yelp of surprise on your part filled the line. The operator could make out a rather loud order for someone to stay quiet.

“Ma’am, are you ok? What happened?”

“Ummmm…” Looking out of the doorway, you could see that it was Rhino who had busted through the glass doors. Flint stood nearby, an unnaturally large and off-color hand placed over his boyfriend’s mouth in an effort to shush him.

“Ma’am, what happened?” You gave a desperate look to Montana, at a loss on what to say that would be believable and really just wanting to see your other boyfriend. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and snatched the phone from your hand, waving you out into the main lobby.

“The same thing that’ll happen in an hour if’n y’all don’t bring us a good seven thousand. Been a good chat here, Ma’am, take care.”

You walked tentatively out of the backroom, waiting to hear the click of the phone’s switch before you rushed forward to see your boyfriends.

“Alex!” You couldn’t wait any longer to get back into his arms; he always gave the biggest bear hugs, even if they were few and far between. But when you wrapped your arms around his waist (succeeding in getting about half way around him) and let your head rest against the armor that covered his familiar chest, you noticed a distinct element missing: him hugging back. Looking back up, you saw his arms awkwardly dangling away from his sides and gave him a questioning look.

“осторо́жно, ми́лая! I don’t do too good with hugs no more.”

Smiling, you took a half step back to get a better look at him, resting your hands on his abdomen (you never had been able to rest your hands against his chest when he stood up straight, he was just so damn big). “Oh my god,” you let out with a chuckle, “Did you grow a few inches or what! This is just unfair, it was hard enough already to get a proper kiss and now I’m gonna need to stand on a box!” You stretched yourself up as you joked, motioning for him to lean down and meet you half way. Your hands made their way onto his shoulders as he bent down, one sliding towards the back of his thick neck to bring him in for that “proper kiss” (you had to twist your head to avoid getting hit by his horn). As the kiss furthered, you could feel Alex start to gently stroke your hair, having either gained confidence in his ability to control his new strength or just really, REALLY wanting to touch his partner. Probably the latter. He started to drift upwards, his hunched pose too uncomfortable to hold, your lips parting for a second before he swept you up with him on one of his arms. You were almost surprised by how easily he lifted you, but then again, he would straight up bench press you without breaking a sweat, so with super strength you probably only seemed like a pile of grapes. It wasn’t much later that you were forced apart for air, the sound of heavy breathing broken by a Brooklyn accent.

“Hey, now I’m not complaining about the show, but we didn’t kiss for that long,” Flint teased, trying to hold it over his partners’ heads in an effort to win some more smooches.

“Hehe, yeah, cause no one wants a mouth fulla sand.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it.”

Alex swallowed at that, probably remembering how he had to chew on left over sand for a solid hour afterwards. And how he didn’t regret it in the slightest.

“Aw, Sunshine,” you cooed, motioning Flint to join you, “Here, I’m happy to give you another smooch. Hell, I’ll give you a hundred!” You were quick to scoop up his face in your hands, peppering him with little kisses and ending with a big silly smooch on the mouth. You let out a giggly squeal as you were unexpectedly set down, Alex now moving to embrace his boyfriend.

“My turn,” he said as he leaned in. He let out a surprised sound when Flint pulled him in the rest of the way, muffled by his boyfriend’s lips; Alex melted into the kiss, Flint eagerly taking control. Your heart swelled at the sight, loving how much your boys loved each other.

“Y’aint done yet?!” Alex bit sharply into (and through, as Flint lost some composure at the sudden interruption) Flint’s bottom lip. “Listen, the bug’s gonna be here any second now. Y’all’ll have all the time in the world to rodeo around after the bug’s been squashed. Now I suggest you get out to your places befo-”

“He’s back, boys!”

Sandman quickly broke free of his boyfriend to give you one last forehead kiss before he left to go take on the web head. “Don’t worry, babe!” he called out as he flew out the door in his granulated form, “We’ll be back in no time! Love you!”

“I love you, too, Sunshine!” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, worry beginning to weave its way through you. What if they got hurt? What if they got captured, sent back to Ryker’s? Spider-man wasn’t known for killing anyone but what if…? What if the cops came after you for collaboration and assisting? What if you couldn’t see them again? That’s all you wanted for weeks, to see them, to be together again, to have them home.

Rhino was about to follow his partner out into the fray, figuring he didn’t need to say goodbye because you’d all be together again in thirty minutes, when he felt a gentle tug on his hand. Turning, he found you pressing a chaste kiss into his right palm, tears threatening to spill.

“Promise me you’ll both come back to me? It’s been horrible without you home.”

His heart broke at the sight before it swelled with rage at the root of your concern.

“Promise.” He pulled his hand away, beginning to charge. “And I promise to knock that skinny lil creep out cold fer makin’ you stress like this!” He emphasized his statement by punching a flying Spidey square in the face, sending him soaring.

You sat yourself down against the wall, working to calm your nerves. Of course your partners would make it out okay. Sure, they were beaten individually, but there were six of them now, all working together. There was no way Spider-man could take down all six of them.

…Right?

[seriouslyhooked]

False Alarms (A CS AU) Part 6/?

Modern AU where Emma is a Boston police detective and Killian is firefighter. They both get called to a fire in progress but it ends up being a false alarm, however there can be no denying the sparks between them. Includes fluff and my usual attempts at humor as well as a touch of fake-dating and meddling friends. Inspired by the song ‘False Alarm’ by Motoma and Becky Hill. Rated M for future chapters.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five ; On Fanfiction Here.

A/N: So despite the title of this fic, not every call in the line of duty for a cop or a firefighter can be a false alarm, and sometimes there are pretty close calls. This chapter will be dealing with one of those. But don’t worry, I never linger on angst for long, and the chapter also introduces the M rating so there’s smuff to smooth over any would-be anxiety. Hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading!

“Can you believe the day we’ve got going right now?” Graham asked, standing at the doorway of the station by Killian’s side, watching as the rest of the crew worked on cleaning off the engines outside.

The weather merited comment today because despite the fact that they were still braving the winter months, Mother Nature had brought a surprise – a gloriously sunny day with temperatures more befitting May than anything else. It was a nice change, and had vastly improved the moods not just of the others at the firehouse, but the people in the city as well. Killian appreciated it too, but to be honest, his mood hadn’t needed any heavy lifting. He was enjoying life to the fullest already, and he had one blonde, brilliant detective to thank for that.

“You know they warn you about New England winters when you take this job,” Killian affirmed, “They tell you all about the blizzards and how snow emergencies can effect a ride and response. But they don’t prepare you for days like this.”

“Well get used to the changes. With our luck we’ll get a week of warm temps and sunshine and then another two feet of snow. If there’s one thing to know, it’s you can’t trust Boston weather.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Killian replied, enjoying his morning coffee as he and Graham watched a fight on the cusp of starting.

“I swear to God Scarlet if you spray me with that hose I will actually kill you!” The threat from Tink was completely serious, and Killian winced just thinking about how angry their ladder leader would get if Will was as hair brained as he pretended to be and turned the spray her way.

“Aw come on Tink. I’m practically you’re oldest friend…” Will baited and Tink scoffed, shaking the towel in her hand at him.

“Bull shit! And you can kiss the idea of me even tolerating you goodbye if you mess with me right now. I’m serious Will, back off.”

Tink was already poised to act and whether it was to either sprint away or charge Will, Killian couldn’t say. But he could see the actual consideration in Will’s eyes. He trusted his friend would make the right choice and be a grown adult about this, but then a challenge was presented and Killian didn’t know what to expect.

“I say you do it man,” Gus joked from the other engine. “No one’s gotten Tink real mad in a while.”

“Because everyone wants to remain in one piece,” Tink snapped causing a chorus of ‘oohs’ from the others cleaning.

A number of scenarios passed through Killian’s mind in that moment, and though he knew the firehouse was bound tightly together in a unit, there was a risk here. Tink did have a bit of a temper after all, and Will did like to push the envelope. Besides, with Gus getting involved and putting his two cents in as the probie and low-man on the pole, they might be in real trouble. Someone should step in.

“Anyone who starts a water fight is getting kitchen clean up for a week, you got that?” Graham called out beside him and Killian grinned at his lieutenant.

“Some days I wonder why you don’t have my job,” Killian admitted only half joking.

“Some days I wonder the same thing,” Graham tossed back humorously before another cry came from the truck bay.

“Did you all see this week’s picture?” one of the EMT’s named Thomas asked. “Sergeant Jones and his girl got pretty cozy at that open house.”

The response from everyone was a rowdy one as Killian had come to expect whenever Emma was brought up. He was a bit disheartened though since he thought he’d successfully hidden the copies of The Globe that were dropped off at the house this morning. Clearly some of them had gone unchecked, or Thomas had just been snooping. As such the squad now had access to a picture of Killian and Emma sharing a smile while in the company of some of the city’s cutest kids donning fake police badges and fire hats. It was ‘PR gold’ as Emma’s mother and the mayor’s office had put it, but Killian saw it as a snapshot of a great memory he was glad to have.

Thinking back to that afternoon just a few days back, Killian had the immediate urge to smile. It had been chaos in so many ways, with the engine house they’d used as a base swarming with children and their families as well as neighbors from the borough that the engine serviced. It was loud and packed with people, and in the midst of all of that, Emma and Killian had known they’d be watched all afternoon. But Emma, charming and graceful as she was, decided to put her best foot forward and to bring Killian with her.

Hours passed in the most enjoyable way, with Emma and Killian leading different games and answering questions for the little ones, and at more than one instance Killian found himself watching her. Surrounded by all these children and enjoying herself in a way that was reminiscent of being a kid herself, Emma was beautiful, entrancing, and impossible to ignore. Killian pondered most of the afternoon about what it would be like for Emma to have children of her own. He knew she’d be a spectacular mother, but in those imaginings Emma wasn’t going it alone – no, she was standing there with him, sending him that same knowing smile and lighting up his world.

It was crazy to think how little time they’d known each other and already Killian’s imagination was running away with him this way. He’d never experienced anything like it, but the sureness he had in Emma was unchecked. There was just something about her that eased his worries and convinced him that more was possible. With Emma in his life and in his world, everything seemed brighter and more vibrant. For the first time Killian wasn’t just content but actually happy and he had to credit that change to Emma. She was the one who gave him that, and the one who he was starting to build so many hopes for the future on.

“So remind me again how the new Sergeant not only scores one Detective Emma Nolan, but also gets the acceptance of the District Chief? Because something just isn’t adding up here.”

Will’s words pulled Killian back from the haze of his recent memories. They were meant in jest clearly, and Killian could read his friend’s humor in all of this, but it still set him on edge to discuss his relationship publically. 

Killian had long prided himself on being a man who spoke the truth. Honor was important to him, and full disclosure with his team was a part of that code he held so close, but when it came to him and Emma things were complicated. The start of their relationship had been unique, and though they were dating now and they had an understanding between them that this was a permanent, exclusive, romantic attachment, there was still the matter of telling her parents it was a real thing between them.

“I feel like maybe we can cross that bridge when we get there,” Emma said the night before when she was at his place and in his arms. “Besides, if you think my Mom is overbearing now, just wait until I tell her I actually like you. She’ll take it to a whole new level.”

Killian smiled now thinking of the way Emma put it, and the way he’d made her admit that there was more than mere ‘liking’ between them. It might not be love (at least not declared between the two of them), but the promise from Emma that they mattered and that they were starting something together that was real and worth exploring soothed something in Killian. He couldn’t shake the feeling that as long as he had Emma, everything would be all right, and so he didn’t dare risk losing her.

“It’s likely thanks to my dashing good looks and roguish charisma,” Killian quipped and the whole squad laughed at that ridiculous statement, but Will was onto Killian and his friend didn’t look inclined to let it go easily. Before Will could make some witty retort, however, the alarm blared through the space around them, setting everyone off into an instinctual set of movements to man to trucks.

“Saved by the bell,” Graham said as Killian and he headed into the house to gear up. Killian shook his head, knowing he shouldn’t engage in the teasing any longer. Now was the time to get serious again and focus entirely on doing things right and getting to whatever situation awaited them, but he couldn’t help pointing out an obvious fact to Graham.

“And you’ve been saved from speculation by me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of scrutiny you’ve gotten with your own detective,” Killian said and Graham laughed.

“Fair enough.”

Grabbing their gear and manning their stations was second nature to most everyone in the house. The rigorous training they’d all gone through and the years of experience most of the people on this team had made for a well-oiled machine that performed even as the harsh tones of the alarm droned on and on. This was a familiar dance to all of them, and for Killian that continued wailing sound was what put him in the headspace he needed. It got him moving at top speed and kept him vigilant to the others, making sure they all filed into place with speed and efficiency all in one.

Once on the trucks, they got the basics from their dispatch team – fire in progress in a warehouse on the south side of their district by the docks. There wasn’t as of yet an alarm number garnered, but from the description the 9-11 call had made, it was shaping up to be a big one.

The ride from the firehouse to the docks was mercifully smooth without the added burden of rush hour traffic before them all, but it would never be truly easy maneuvering one of these engines through city streets. If he’d had space in his mind to do more than focus on the possibilities a warehouse fire could bring, Killian would likely applaud his team members manning these vessels right now.

By the time they arrived, station thirty-two was already on site and making moves to start an offensive against the blaze and when Killian touched base with their Captain the plan was made clear. This would be a three-pronged fight: They’d attack from the exterior, the lower levels and a special unit entering from higher above. Thirty-two would provide the higher reaches and some exterior work, leaving Killian and Graham leading the majority of their team inside.

Conversation was brief, with just the basic directions of the plan in place, and though there was some idea of what they might be walking into, none of them were stupid enough to think they could totally anticipate this fire. That should have gone unspoken and be branded in the minds of every fighter on this team, but Killian repeated that sentiment again for the record into his headset.

“We all come home tonight, and we do that by sticking the course and following orders. You got that?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” his team responded and then they were off, cutting through the smoke and flame to try and do their job and prevent more damage to this section of the docks.

Visibility in the warehouse was low thanks to the billowing smoke, but it wasn’t the worst Killian had ever been through, and at first he was confident in every move his team made. They made note of what corners and portions could be swept through first, and the primary objective was to see if anyone was inside. This wasn’t a residential building, but there was always the chance with big spaces like this of someone coming in for some reason and not being accounted for. They needed to clear every corner they could and then start the hard work, but all through this each member of their team knew when to call out and check in.

“We’ve got a problem, Sergeant,” Will called out at one point and then he flashed his light towards a far corner that had a half a dozen large drums of a material they couldn’t ascertain from this distance. “Probably flammable; could go up and mess up the whole structure.”

“Thirty-two be advised we’ve got a possible accelerant on the north side along the walls. Abort entry,” Killian said into the radio, hearing the acknowledgment of the other team just before a blast came from those tubs. The force of the blast was harsh and harrowing, and just as Will had expected it created a host of problems, not the least of which was the added instability of the beams above them.

“Tink, where are we out outside?” Killian asked, already anticipating her response.

“Those flames spiked high sir, and it’s infiltrated the warehouse next door. We’re trying to control it.”

Damnit! Killian thought to himself. That would change the plan and just as he was formulating their need to get out of here, Graham mirrored his thoughts with a proclamation of his own.

“It’s too hot in here, Serg! We gotta tackle this thing outside!” Graham exclaimed and Killian agreed, ordering everyone out of there now, but from the corner of his eye Killian noticed one of his men lagging behind. It was Gus, their probie, and his staggered movements and bent over frame immediately told Killian what was wrong: the smoke was getting to him and so something must be wrong with his suit.

“Get everyone out!” Killian ordered Graham and then without thought for anything else Killian sprinted back the extra distance, grabbing onto Gus just as it seemed his body might give way.

The man’s knees went weak, but he was conscious and that was something. Killian tried to tell him to hold on, but all of this was pure instinct now. He had to make a way for them out of this and it was easier said than done. Gus wasn’t a tiny guy by any means, but Killian had carried more and been through worse. He didn’t have any real fears until a portion of the rafters above came down, blocking their original path out and separating them from the rest of the team.

“Damn it!” Killian yelled to no one in particular, but he scouted another way, not letting himself fear what he had to do. Right now the key was survival and getting him and Gus out of there as fast as he could.

It was hard to find an answer right away, and that wasn’t helped by the continued calls on his attention from the others through their headsets. He begged them all for quiet and to keep going, but with every passing second doubt crept in. Then when a path seemed impossible to find, Killian felt this unfamiliar need welling inside him. He couldn’t accept defeat – he had to keep going. There was too much to fight for, and one woman in particular who he had to see again. He had to get out of here and then home to see her.

Clutching onto that feeling that he could not fail, Killian meandered around the wreckage and got them to the exit, but he could feel the damage to his suit when they made it into the blinding brightness of outside and knew he’d nicked himself a few places and risked a few burns. Graham was right about those temps, it was too hot in there, and he was gasping for air by the time they got outside.

“We need some help over here!” Graham yelled as he and Killian looked over a clearly dazed Gus who was spread out on the ground a safe distance from the blaze.

Graham made quick work of checking Gus’ equipment and saw the fracture in his mask and mouthpiece, making note of it to Killian. Now the only question was had that been there when Gus grabbed it before, and if so, did the man realize how bloody dangerous it was to go into a fire without every piece of equipment working at top ability? At the same time the EMTs responded, treating Gus and assessing that there was some damage from the inhalation and a mild concussion from some of the jerked motions Killian had to make to get them out but nothing terribly serious.

“We gotta take him to Mass Gen, but it doesn’t look life threatening,” Thomas said leading Killian to sigh in relief. Well that was one thing they didn’t have to worry about.

“Wouldn’t have been able to say the same thing if you hadn’t gone back for him, Serg” Will noted and Killian shook his head, not wanting them all to get sidetracked.

“We can hash it all out later. Right now we’ve got to be mindful. We can’t take our eyes off of this,” Killian said, mentally calculating that everyone on his team was now outside and safely battling the flames. They were and that gave him some small comfort.

“There’s no we right now, Sarg. You’ve gotta get checked out too. Last thing we need is you falling apart on us” Will argued, all of his teasing from before long gone. There was almost a command in his friend’s voice, as if he were the superior in this situation. It made Killian laugh, but the sound came out harsh and grating and provided no comfort for any of the others.

“I’ve got this for now,” Graham promised and Killian nodded, knowing it was better to let them clear him in the ambulance and keep his eye on things from afar then to fight them on it and find out there was trouble later.

In the end Killian was willing to give the paramedics twenty minute of time and in that they confirmed that his own injuries were minimal. He heard the phrase ‘close call’ a few more times than he would have liked, but Killian also knew they were right. His suit had managed to take most of the hit today, but he’d have some aches and pains for a few days, and he was a little cut up here and there. As it was he was damn lucky, and so was Gus. This whole scenario could have played out very differently.

But Killian wouldn’t let himself linger on that. Instead he returned to his post by the ladder and with his people until they were called off and relieved. The blaze was dying down (thanks to the milder weather that meant the water wasn’t freezing as it would have just a few days ago) by the time his team departed, and all along the ride home there was silence as if the crew knew just how near they’d been to a more tragic afternoon. Only when they were back at the house did Will speak up.

“Shift’s over in twenty minutes and I’m sure probie will still be at Mass Gen.”

The chorus of agreements signaled to Killian that they’d all be going to see him, but Killian didn’t think he could face that today. He needed the space to get his head on straight before going to see Gus, otherwise he ran the risk of berating the poor kid for his rookie mistake. From the way Graham said nothing and stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, Killian took that his Lieutenant felt the same way.

“I’ll brief the Captain on what happened and check on Gus after. Maybe by then I’ll stand a chance of not reading him the riot act.”

“I appreciate it, mate,” Killian said readying himself to get out of here. He was in need of a shower and some clean clothes and then he’d be heading directly to Emma’s. Well that was if she could see him, which he desperately hoped she could.

“Tink will take you home,” Graham said and Killian started to refuse but it was Tink who put her foot down.

“Don’t even start. You’re going home and that’s that.”

Killian decided not to argue and figured the slight delay wouldn’t kill him. Though he didn’t want to have to be patient, Killian would be to put his crew at ease and it would give him time to get himself a bit more under control before he saw Emma. Without that chance he might just take her in his arms and never let go.

“Hey Sergeant?” Graham called out later when Killian was just about to leave with Tink. Killian turned back to his colleague, finding his friend looking serious.  “When we were joking earlier about who has which job, I didn’t mean anything by it, and if I had, I definitely wouldn’t mean it after today. This house needs you.”

“A Sergeant is only as good as his team, Graham. You’ll learn that soon enough,” Killian offered, slapping his new friend on the shoulder in an unspoken salute of thanks before heading out in the hopes of finding Emma, the woman who had unintentionally seen him through today in a truly miraculous way.

…………

Distractions while on duty weren’t something that Emma or Ruby often found themselves subject to. There was a state of mind both friends entered when they were officially on the clock and serving this city that they didn’t mess with. They prided themselves on being on their A game anytime they donned their badge, but today a wrench was thrown in their usual way of doing things and it all stemmed from one call that came over the radio:

“We’ve got a possible four alarm in progress at 69 Harrison. Be advised that firehouses sixty-one and thirty-two are en route and patrol from District three is clearing the area and setting a perimeter.”

That warning had been sent out three hours ago and the fire had been roaring away steadily according to the updates Ruby and Emma had been able to get. They weren’t able to sit on the radio waves listening because they still had work to do, but the situation wasn’t far from either of their minds. It followed them through secondary interviews from an incident from the last shift, consulting with some academy teachers who wanted them to give a lecture on rising through the ranks, and a drive-by check of one of the local businesses where the owner was wary of people casing for an easy robbery mark.

But finally when their shift was over, Emma and Ruby came to the unspoken agreement that they were sticking together until there was word one way or another. Now they were sitting at the counter of the bar just across the way from the station and waiting over a drink for what Emma had to believe would be a routine end to a pretty bad fire. She couldn’t let herself linger in thoughts that something could go wrong because this was their reality. Killian was a firefighter and he loved what he did. Emma had seen that same dedication when it came to her Dad and his work too, and that passion and capability would keep him safe. It just had to.

At the same time though, Emma was craving some kind of closeness with Killian right now, and she’d found it with what Ruby acknowledged was a peculiar choice in drink for her. Rum wasn’t usually Emma’s go to choice, but Killian liked it and the other night when he’d invited her to his apartment for the first time it was all he’d had to offer. It was nice though, and the taste and burn on her tongue helped zap away some of the underlying current of worry and reminded her of the kisses they’d subsequently shared that night at his place.

“How did your Mom do this for so long?” Ruby asked, clearly feeling the uncertainty a little more than Emma currently was.

That’s not to say that Emma wasn’t worried; there were a lot of factors when it came to firefighting that could put Killian and his crew at risk, and it wasn’t exactly the safest line of work by any means, but Mary Margaret Nolan had always been a beacon of strength and hope when her husband was called into the line of duty and she’d passed that onto Emma. You couldn’t worry until the problems came. That wasn’t any way to live.

“A lot of cocoa and a lot of random hobbies. You know all those needlepoint signs my parents have in their house?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded. “Those started one summer when there were a string of arson cases in my Dad’s district, and they just never stopped.”

“Well if I follow in your mother’s footsteps you can be damn sure I’ll drink something stronger than hot chocolate and have dirtier puns on my pillow cases,” Ruby said, trying to joke with Emma despite the continued unease.

“I could help you with some of those if you want,” a voice said from behind them and when they turned around it was Graham. Immediately Ruby was in motion, pulling him down for a kiss that totally disregarded everyone in the place, Emma included. But when they came back up for air (after a rather long and passionate interlude), Graham looked mighty pleased with the warm welcome. “Well hello to you too.”

“Is the fire out?” Emma asked and Graham turned to her with an answer at the ready.

“Almost. We got relieved half an hour ago, though. I’m about to head to Mass Gen and check on one of our guys.”

Emma’s face must have given her concern away though she tried to conceal it as best she could, but when Graham filled in that it was one of the new people on the squad and that Killian was the one who got him out, Emma’s heart restarted again. Killian was safe – and that was what mattered.

“I usually wouldn’t say this – we’ve got fire house superstitions after all – but this one was pretty close, Emma. Killian’s a tough guy, but anyone would be a little shaken up after what he went through. I don’t even know how he managed it honestly.”

“Is he at the station?” Emma asked, already grabbing her jacket, ready to go.

“No, he’s home. I had Tink make sure he got there and I just got a text to confirm it. Maybe you should -,”

“I think Emma’s got a plan already, Graham,” Ruby said, nodding at Emma in a silent exchange. Emma knew if she needed anything Ruby would be there for her and she appreciated it, but right now all she needed was to see Killian and make sure he was really okay.

Getting out of the bar and back to her car, Emma tried to map out exactly what to do here. She and Killian had only been dating a couple of weeks and it was still new and fresh between them, but she wanted to be what Killian needed today and she was also a little selfish in wanting the comfort of being with him too. Despite the brave face she’d held the past few hours she was worried, and the only relief for that built up emotion would be seeing Killian again.

Emma debated calling him and reaching out to check that coming over was even a good idea, and then she considered bringing something with her, but she was at a loss. What did you bring someone who fought a fire and nearly lost? She didn’t know the answer, and when it was her parents in that situation, her Dad always said the best remedy was coming home to his family. They might not be at that level yet, but Emma did know that she mattered to Killian, and if there was even a chance that her presence would help him then she needed to give him that.

Just as Emma parked her car in front of Killian’s loft, her phone rang and the sound split through Emma’s internal planning about what to say and how to act and jolted her back to the present. Emma fully intended to ignore whoever was on the other end of this call, but then she saw it was Killian and she knew she had to answer even as she was crossing the street to get to him right now.

“Killian,” Emma said, not having anything else but him name that she could think to say right now, and from the relieved sigh on the other end of the phone he didn’t seem to mind.

“God it’s good to hear your voice, love.”

“Rough day?” She asked, already knowing it had been worse than rough and Killian let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“I’ve certainly had better,” he said as Emma managed to slip inside the building when another tenant was leaving. She headed up the stairs two at a time as he made a request that warmed her heart. “I was wondering... is there any way I might see you tonight, love? I know you’ve had a long day of your own but…”

“I think that might be arranged,” Emma agreed and before Killian could reply with any kind of particulars, she knocked at his front door and found him on the other side looking downright thrilled to see her.

“Emma,” he said, forgetting his phone and pulling her into his arms quickly.

She melted into Killian’s embrace without hesitation and then she closed her eyes, trying to deal with the fact that the smell of smoke still lingered on him. It was just another reminder for her of what Graham had said – they’d had a real close call today and she could have possibly lost this man she’d only just found. To combat the swell of emotion that thought brought, Emma tried to ground herself in the fact that he was really here.

Beyond the smoke was the familiar scent that she’d come to associate with Killian, and the warmth of his arms around her. She felt that same comfort that only Killian ever provided and Emma felt even more secure in her choice to come here as he mumbled relieved words. They were whispered so low she couldn’t hear much more than the slight lilt of his action and the reverent tone but they were perfect all the same.

Finally Emma pulled back to look at him and she took everything in, wiping away a slight smudge of black soot he’d missed from his handsome face and noticing the scratches he’d accrued in today’s action. If she had to guess he’d be a little worse for wear all over, but he was here and whole and that was the most important thing.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, clearly still stunned.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she confessed.

With that Emma pressed a kiss to his lips that went from soft and sweet to heated all too fast. Emma understood why that was. They were both trying to find a way to channel the immense emotions in the room, but she didn’t want to get so caught up in the physical that she wasn’t really there for Killian. So as hard as it was to pull back, Emma did so, looking back into his eyes that now seemed slightly warmer and offering a small smile.

“The way I see it we have to options. You tell me what happened today over some rum, or we actively avoid what happened today, also with rum. Your call.”

Killian’s smile actually reached his eyes in that moment, and he ran his thumb along her cheek, gazing at her with this mix of affection and awe that made Emma feel like she was so much more powerful than she felt. The only thing she could offer Killian right now was company and maybe the comfort of listening, but he made her feel like she was the answer to all of his problems with a simple look.

“You are remarkable, Emma. I hope you know that,” he whispered, sending a thrill of pleasure through her. Then he took her hand in his and led her to the couch as he went to go get them two glasses and the bottle of rum she knew that he had here. When he was back, Killian made sure to keep no distance between them, and Emma was pulled into his arms, loving that way that she was so wrapped up in him and connected like this.

“So what’s the verdict?” Emma asked and Killian chuckled shaking his head.

“Part of me is tempted to take you up on the offer of avoidance, but I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn’t do that anymore. Better to face the darkness head on than suffer the fall out later.”

Emma was so relieved to hear that he felt that way, because she’d always seen things that way in her line of work too. Her parents taught her from the start of her time on the force that bad things would happen. Cases would go south in an instant, people would get hurt or worse, and the good guys didn’t always win despite what the fairy tales said. But the only way through pain was to face it, and the only way to keep in jobs like these was to acknowledge the risk and to accept that things happened for a reason, even if there was no explanation you could understand.

“Graham said something about the probie…” Emma urged on and Killian nodded.

“Aye, Gus. He’s a good man but wet behind the ears. He should have seen the problem before it got so bad – his mask was damaged even before we faced the flames - but he’s still new and he’s still got that need for the action over safety. He hasn’t yet learned that a fire doesn’t care if your heart’s in the right place. Destruction comes to anything that stands in its path and today it could have taken him.”

“But you didn’t let that happen,” Emma said, not knowing the full details but instinctively guessing that Killian would always be mindful of the men and women of his house.

“No, I didn’t. But it wasn’t easy, and there was a moment in there when I… when I thought I might have made the wrong call. I couldn’t see a way out of there, but I had to.”

Emma’s hand ran along his chest as she stayed tucked into him. She could feel the tightness in her throat as it constricted with residual fear. God that must have been terrifying – knowing that you were trying to save someone and that you might have just sacrificed yourself in the process. But it was also a spike in fear and emotion that she understood. She’d been in a few touch and go firefights before, had a few close calls where a bulletproof vest had made the difference between her coming home that night and never coming home again, but the fear was always there every time. Even if it was your instinct to protect others, it didn’t make you feel brave, at least it never had for Emma.

“I thought of you in that moment, Emma. That moment when I didn’t know if we’d get through that door, you were there. I heard your voice and thought to myself that I couldn’t have heard it for the last time. I couldn’t never see your smile again or watch the way your whole person lights up when you laugh. I had to get out of there, and so I did.”

“Killian, I -,”

Killian put their glasses back down on the table before them before bringing Emma to face him completely. His earnestness in this moment was almost overwhelming, and the tears that had been forming through some of his professions about how much she meant to him became that much more prominent. He noticed them too, and Emma could hear the tautness of his tone as a response.

“Look, Emma, I don’t want to rush things or make you feel like you have to feel a certain way, but I’ve known for a while that what we’re doing here… it’s bigger than anything I’ve done in my past. Being with you brings more than mere happiness to my world, love. It’s like when I’m with you, I’ve the remedy to move past everything else.”

Emma bit her lip, wanting to say the same thing to him because she could feel this connection he was talking about. A lot of her old fears and worries were assuaged by Killian’s presence. He was a positive force in her life that didn’t take, take, take, but gave her so much instead. Nothing about Killian was contrived or forced – he was totally genuine and that was so amazing to her, because it meant that all the intense emotions she had about him were actually mirrored back. For once she wasn’t terrified of getting hurt. She trusted this man with her heart and she had given that trust to him faster than she’d ever been able to with anyone else.

“It’s like I said though, love, I don’t expect anything. I just -,”

In that moment, Emma couldn’t stand to hear him second guessing himself and she silenced his worries with another kiss. This time though, Emma didn’t care about getting carried away, in fact she felt free to push for so much more with Killian because of what they’d just shared. This level of openness and honesty was invigorating even where it once would have terrified her and today Killian had let himself be vulnerable with her, which truly led Emma to believe that she could do the same with him. With Killian taking the risk didn’t actually seem so risky, and walking away from the way she felt right now with him flush against her and seeking out more, just wasn’t an option.

“This is different for me too,” Emma said when they pulled back, her eyes fluttering open in time to see the adorably smitten look on Killian’s face right now. It made her whole body heat even more than the kiss had and it prompted her further with her confessions. “And I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to relationships, but I think if we’ve found something like this we should go for it, fast or not.”

“God I love the sound of that,” Killian said, and the undeniable honesty in the way he said it was the final breaking point for her. Suddenly Emma was so far past her more honorable intentions of before, and all she wanted was her and Killian as close as they could be. 

Killian must have understood her shifts in need, and he was hardly unhappy with the prospect, sweeping her up with him to his bedroom (despite the injuries she knew he must have), and taking her breath away with kisses and attentions that never stopped. He was everywhere all at once, but still Emma wanted more and she knew just how to get it. With a firm push against his chest, she separated them, moving to strip away her clothes from today with a clear, slow intent.

“You gonna just stand there or are you going to join me?” Emma asked after a few seconds of watching Killian take her in. His eyes on her fed this part of Emma that had gone hungry for so long and she felt powerful and wanted in a way that she loved. But she also wanted him with her, and she wanted them both so lost in each other that they forgot everything about today and pushed past it to something so much more desirable.

“Can’t fault a man for looking, love. You’re like heaven itself.”

Emma flushed at the compliment, but she was determined to make him move so she could get her chance to look her fill too. So when she was just about to remove her bra she stalled, flicking up a suggestive smile to this man who was totally focused on her.

“Lose the clothes, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

This time Killian quickly responded but there was a look in his eyes that said he was humoring her. She might have just given the command, but it was only a matter of time before he turned the tables and used that sexy as sin voice and his all too fantastic skill in making her mindless with pleasure against her. Just the thought had her mind racing, and by the time he’d actually gotten around to stripping away his shirt and pants she was shaking with the anticipation of everything that was coming.

When both of them were bared to each other, Emma stopped trying to fight for any control and she pulled him down for another scorching kiss as he maneuvered them to the bed. It was a dizzying kind of thrill as Killian’s hands and mouth roamed against her naked flesh, and her heart pounded in her ears even as her whole body hummed out this sound of joy. She was so ready for this, and the incidents of their day had only made that sharp need for him so much keener. What if they’d lost this? Emma couldn’t imagine this being over before it even really had the chance to begin.

Eventually Killian broke away from their hungry kiss and moved down her jaw to her neck and found that spot that always drove her crazy so quickly she had to moan and arch into him, but he had other ideas. The frazzled sense of awe he’d just had was long gone and instead he was all willful command. Killian was totally in control and from the flash of dark heat in his blue eyes Emma knew she was about to reap the benefits of that meticulous worship.

“A bit impatient aren’t we, love?” Killian asked teasingly, with his hot breath against her neck and driving her crazy.

“Can you blame me?” Emma asked, not even bothering to deny it and Killian chuckled as his kisses moved lower along her flesh until he was at her breasts and smiling with that almost infuriatingly attractive grin of his.

“Not when I want you even more than you can possibly imagine.”

Emma was going to argue that that seemed unlikely since he was the one making this a slow, meticulous exploration instead of the hard and fast release she knew he wanted, but then he was peppering her sensitive flesh with just the right mix of kisses, nips, and sucks designed to totally unwind her resistance.

And yes, maybe there was a chance that Emma could have pushed through that onslaught of pleasure to get him to go faster, but the only thing in her mind right now was that Killian needed this. Today had been too close and too dangerous, and now he was reminding them both of what they’d found together and what was waiting for them if they made it through the hard times and back into each other’s arms.

In the midst of his glorious attentions to her breasts, Killian’s hand trailed down her stomach creeping to the vee between her legs where Emma so desperately needed relief. The ache for him was straining to be released, and Killian’s quick attentions to her clit were designed to spark that coiling need into something so much more fulfilling. Before Emma even imagined it could be possible she was falling apart and calling out his name, and when she came down from that haze of perfect feeling, the look in Killian’s eyes was almost wild. He seemed addicted to making her come apart, and Emma swallowed harshly almost fearing just how much he was going to give her to sate that need on his part tonight.

She didn’t have time to worry long though, not when Killian’s mouth moved lower and lower in a rough then reverent way that would likely leave marks on her skin tomorrow. Emma didn’t mind those abrasions. Actually she reveled in the thought that come the morning she’d have those spots of his creation to remind her of this moment right here, when Killian made her feel like anything was possible and she was destined to feel this good every damn day.

By the time he’d gotten to her inner thigh, Emma was pulsing with the need to have his mouth on her sex. Craving that feeling wasn’t even a strong enough word for it – Emma thought she might die without it, and then he was there and she was gone for him all over again. It was pure magic, the feel of Killian making love to her this way and when she’d fallen apart by his ministrations again and was close to another shattering climax she pleaded with him to give them both more.

“Killian – I need you, please.”

Emma wasn’t certain if it was the please or the expression of her need for him, but he mercifully responded by coming back up to her and taking her lips in a hard kiss again. This time she could taste herself and it felt so damn intimate and dirty and fucking perfect, but that was nothing to the moment when he thrust inside her, filling Emma with that feeling of total completion.

The string of curses from Killian made Emma want to laugh but she didn’t have the chance when he was dead set on creating a rhythm that was as close to heaven sent as could be. She wanted to be frustrated at the fact that he’d done so much for her without giving her the chance to return the favor, but his continued praise that he lavished her with as he propelled them further told Emma that Killian had gotten exactly what he wanted. And in the end, all Emma could do was claw at him to get closer and plead for more of the same because she was so freaking close until suddenly she was there, falling apart and loving the fact that she’d brought him with her.

In the aftermath of that earth shattering release, Emma and Killian stayed curled up together in his bed, silently allowing their hands to roam. It was a calmer sense of searching, but Emma didn’t have to look very hard to find what she was looking for. Killian brought her this sense of peace and belonging that she’d never known before, and from the smile on his face and the light in his eyes, Emma knew he was feeling it too. What they had couldn’t be denied in anyway, and that fact led Emma to say something she’d been wanting to find the bravery to say for a while.

“I’m going to tell them,” she whispered and Killian’s brow furrowed at the words.

“Tell them?” he asked, not following her thoughts, which were admittedly random.

“I’m going to tell my parents the truth,” Emma said and Killian’s arms tensed for just a second until Emma ran her hand across his chest soothingly. “I’m going to tell them that this is real - that we are real - and that in a few weeks when the mayor’s office is tired of using us a PR prop, you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Damn right, I’m not,” Killian growled, making Emma giggle as he pulled her closer to him again. “But perhaps you could wait until morning, love. I have a few thoughts left on how to spend the evening, and they weren’t particularly conducive to seeing your folks.”

“Fair enough,” Emma agreed before sealing the agreement with a kiss and falling into this remarkable man all over again.

Post-Note: So first and foremost I want to thank you all for your patience. As you guys can obviously tell this was a much longer break from this story than I first anticipated but there were a couple of reasons for that. The first was I knew I wanted this chapter to include a close call for the firehouse and I needed to make that work. I hate writing angst (and I would call this chapter angst-light at best) but it did take a long time to get all of that on the page for me. Plus this is a longer chapter as you guys can tell and I wanted to find the perfect smuffy ending to ease away any lingering anxieties from the first part of the chapter. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and I truly hope you guys enjoy. I’m not sure when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully faster than this one was!