#i did play jazz for a while so i wonder if that has something to do with it. learning to do jazz improvisation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phantomspiderr · 1 year

Text

Wrong

Pairing: Jake Lockley x afab!reader (with mentions of Marc Spector x afab!reader & Steven Grant x afab!reader)

Word Count: 2.9k+

Summary: Your first date with Jake takes a bit of a steamy turn but ends in a rather soft moment ~based on this ask~

Warnings/Tags: 18+ alludes to & mentions of smut, lots of kissing, obvious mentions of DID, probably way too much use of nicknames, overconfident!jake but also lil shy!jake, virgin!jake, talks about consent, small touch of manhandling, and of course fluff

a/n: as always thank you to my bestest friend in the entire world @natashasvixen for always reading my stuff no matter how shit it is, love you😘 also thank you so much to whoever sent this ask your message was so sweet and kind. I'm ngl this was going to be full on smut but it took a turn and I kinda just ran with it

“What?” A smile creeps onto your face as you look at him. Jake is lounging in the corner of the small couch. One of his arms is slung over the back of the couch, his fingers just grazing your back while the other leans on the arm of the couch. His head is propped against his fist and he’s staring at you, he has been all night. There’s the slightest smirk on his face, you find it so odd how a face you know so well can look so different.

The night had been unexpected, after meeting Jake only a handful of times the more self-assured alter had asked you out on a date. And now, the conversation Marc had brought up makes a little more sense. A couple of days ago your boyfriend asked how you felt your existing relationship fit around his other alters. Marc had been open and honest about Steven and Jake from the moment you met, you’d had countless conversations about his DID but this particular conversation had come out of nowhere. Like quite literally he’d randomly just asked about it while you were in the middle of watching something. You were obviously curious about the other alters and it was honestly taking some getting used to different people in the same body. Even though they were part of him and he’d told you about them, Marc was still a little reluctant to share you with Steven and Jake. Selfishly he wanted you all to himself because deep down he knew the pair well enough to know that they would fall for you as hard as he had.

But now, here you are cosied up in their apartment where Jake had prepared little snack boards and had even set up a little chocolate fondue that you’d both been picking at all night. You’d been talking about an old childhood memory while quiet jazz music plays in the background and Jake just listened. He hadn’t really said a lot, only really replying in one or two sentences but he listened to every word you spoke and he didn’t care how much you talked and talked and talked.

Suddenly, he surges forward and your body jumps at the unexpected movement, his hand hovers next to your face for a second until you visibly relax. Your eyes lock with his again, and you keep looking at him even when he looks down at your lips. His fingers gently touch your jaw, his thumb slowly dragging across your bottom lip. Your lips involuntarily part at the contact, a shaky breath coming out as you do. You think he's going to kiss you, and your body automatically gravitates closer to him forgetting you haven’t kissed Jake before. Learning boundaries with Steven and Jake was definitely taking some getting used to, especially since Marc had very few physical boundaries with you. Now, Jake’s definitely smirking, his eyes glancing into yours and then back to your lips before he backs up again, all contact gone. You don’t get a chance to protest or even pout at the loss.

“Chocolate,” you dumbly watch as he pushes his thumb into his mouth, cleaning off the small drop of chocolate that was there. The conversation you’d previously been having lost as you just stare at his hands, solely thinking about his hands, you know those hands too well. Now, you’re wondering if Jake’s touch would feel the same as Marc’s or if it’d be rougher, maybe softer, “are you okay hermosa?”

“Mmhm,” it comes out squeaky and you realise you’re literally squirming in your seat. He’s looking at you like you’re prey and he’s been starved and now he’s ready to pounce.

“Are you uncomfortable hermosa?” His head tilts to the side, eyes surveying you as you continue to squirm unable to sit still. It’s not that you’re uncomfortable, you just now can’t stop thinking about certain situations involving Marc’s hands. “This couch isn’t very comfortable.” Jake cuts in before you can even reply to his question, shifting in his own seat, his legs spreading a bit wider and the godforsaken hand you can’t stop thinking about now rubbing the top of his thigh. “You are always welcome to sit here cariño.”

You freeze, looking at him with wide eyes unsure you heard him right but he glances down at his lap before looking at you again and you know you absolutely heard him right. Then your body’s moving before you can fully think it through, he grins up at you as you situate yourself in his lap. His hands glide up your thighs to hold your waist as you straddle him and now, you’re face to face with him you’re not sure what to do. The little burst of confidence you’d just had fizzles away as you look down at him, Jake’s stare is so intense it scrambles your already fuzzy brain.

“Eres tan hermosa, mi amor,” you giggle nervously when his fingers brush along your cheek down to your jaw. His eyes follow his hand as it moves and you can’t look away from his face. You’re somehow surprised but not surprised at all that Jake’s won you over so easily, the man already has you like putty in his hands.

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying,” he chuckles briefly, his eyes glued to his hand that lightly brushes your jaw. He is obsessed with the way your head moves so easily with his touch, the cogs in his brain turning with more ways he could use that to his advantage.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake holds your chin in his hand now and you let out a shuddered breath when his eyes lock with yours again, “I’m going to kiss you, hermosa.” You’re nodding your head the best you can and Jake’s smile grows at the action. Slowly, he straightens his back, getting closer inch by inch. Your own hands finally start working again as they move up his chest to pull him closer by his shirt. You’re getting impatient, needing to kiss him like you need to breathe and quite frankly Jake finds it amusing. Just as he’s close enough that you can feel his lips just barely brush yours, he stops. Jake freezes right where he is and his hold on your chin keeps you locked in place. You can’t move forward no matter how much you try and so, you whine, unashamedly you whine because you’re so desperate to kiss him now, “tan impaciente.”

Jake holds you there for a few seconds more, taking great satisfaction with how much you begin to squirm again. He finally shows you some mercy, sliding the hand holding your chin to your neck allowing you to move freely. You don’t hesitate to push forward, finally pressing your lips to his. Your body instantly relaxes, sinking further into Jake’s hold. The confidence radiates off of him as you kiss, one of his arms coming up to support your back while the other hand cradles your head. It all feels so familiar, at this point, you think your brain’s on autopilot. Your hands smooth over his now wrinkled shirt, one making its way up to the back of his neck attempting to exude some confidence or show some control by manipulating which way he moves now. You’re able to wordlessly direct him and he listens, moving in sync with you. Your heart races in your chest but you find comfort in the fact under your fingers you can feel Jake’s beating wildly too. You don’t want it to end, right now all you want to do is kiss him until you can’t breathe—and you can’t. You’ve been kissing so long that you’re lacking oxygen and you have to unwillingly part from him to heave in air. Jake pushes forward to kiss you again and you have to smile. Despite the fact, both of you are panting after your little make-out session he is so desperate to keep you right where you are.

“Hermosa,” Jake whines and the sound makes a flurry of emotions swirl in you. Your head tilts back a fraction in order for you to breathe but that doesn’t stop Jake from eagerly placing kisses from your lips down to your neck.

“What does that one mean?” Your fingers slide into his hair and tug ever so gently in a silent request for him to come up for air too. You can’t deny the way his lips feel against your skin is intoxicating, the closeness makes your entire body tingle.

“Beautiful,” his voice is rougher than before and he finally sits back, his eyes slowly drifting up your face as the hand still resting on your neck moves. His fingers lightly trace along your jaw again, “so beautiful.”

Now, you can fully see his face in the dim flat lighting you can make out the tint of red coating his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His slightly parted lips are swollen and rapidly he pushes out air. The man looks utterly devastating and he’s the one calling you beautiful. You can feel heat prickle your skin the more he looks at you, his eyes are studying you so intently. The overwhelming urge to kiss him again takes over and you push yourself toward him to try to close the gap again—try being the fundamental word. He pulls back with a smirk before you can kiss him, for a second you’re confused sitting back and looking at him curiously. He doesn’t move or say anything, he just sits there smirking so you try again. You push yourself up and just barely brush your lips against his before he pulls back again, an amused look still on his face.

“Marc,” you cry out in frustration before it registers in your brain. Suddenly, you drag yourself back when you realise your mistake but Jake only tilts his head slightly, one of his eyebrows raising. “I’m sor-”

“Oh, cariño,” his hold on you tightens by the second. It’s almost like a switch has flipped and you can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing yet, “I have ways to make you remember my name.” Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes going wide at the implications of what he’s just said. Jake closes in on you again, and your eyes fall closed as you feel his breath against your neck. His nose brushes along your jawline toward your ear, “is that something you want hermosa?” An uncontrollable whimper escapes you much to Jake’s satisfaction, a deep chuckle sprouting from him at the sound. Jake hums questioningly, fishing for a direct answer.

“Yes. Yes please, Jake-” You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Jake’s tight grip holds you close as he effortlessly stands, his lips back on yours even as you yelp out in surprise. Your legs instinctively clamp around his waist while your hands now grip his shoulders for some form of stability. Jake’s kisses are frantic, the surprising change completely welcome as he moves you both through the flat. “Jake. Jake,” you manage to breathily speak his name, as if to make up for your earlier mistake, trying to get his attention and he only hums as his mouth moves back to your neck. Your head involuntarily moves to allow him more access, your mind clouded by lust instead of rational thinking and at this point, you may just allow him to do just about anything to you. Rather abruptly and unceremoniously, Jake shoves books off of Steven’s messily organised desk before he cruelly lets go of you making you gently thud onto the wooden surface.

“Now you remember?” You can do nothing but blink up at him as he looks smugly down at you, your silence only boosts his confidence. Although all he wants to do is move at a hundred miles an hour he forces himself to slow down, to establish consent and trust with you. Jake wants nothing more than to be trusted, to be loved and he knew he wanted those things from you and only you. He however simultaneously wanted to pull you apart until the neighbours knew his name too. Your hands slip from his neck down his chest, and his hands catch your wrists as they move, “cariño.”

“Tell me what that one means,” you lean in closer almost like you’re moving in to kiss him again and in response, he nudges his chin up just enough to brush your lips together.

“It can mean more than one thing,” Jake kisses you once, “it can be sweetheart.” Another kiss to your lips, “dear,” and another, “honey,” another, “love.” His words mixed with the affection make you smile even as you try to pull your hands free but he holds firm. Jake pulls away just enough so he can look into your eyes again, “cariño-”

This time he says the pet name a little more seriously and that rational part of your brain enters the room again. The lusty haze clouding your judgement clears and you can see the faint look of doubt that washes over him.

“I haven’t- Not with-” His gaze drops to your hands, watching as he lowers them to rest on your thighs. You curiously look at him as he stutters, you’re surprised to hear it as it seems like that’s more of a Steven thing. “I want to be with you,” his eyes suddenly snap up to yours again, “I want to get on my knees and bury myself between your thighs.” There’s the self-assured Jake you know, “I want to bend you over that very uncomfortable couch and have you screaming my name.” You swallow thickly as he spills out the desperate fantasies that fill his head. His fingers delicately graze up your thighs until they reach your hips, holding on so you can’t scoot any closer to the edge of the desk. “But,” his eyes close for a second and when they open he’s looking down again, “I also want you to trust me.” You try to interject but he keeps going, “and I want to fully trust you.” Jake winces, expressing something so mundane he wants from another person feeling foreign to him.

He can’t look at your face, he’d never admit it but he’s scared. Never has he gotten further than this with anyone, everyone always wants more, to push further than he’s willing to go and he wants that. Some primal part of him wants it more than anything but this softer side he likes to keep behind closed doors just wants someone to want him for more than sex.

“Jake,” your voice is soft. Your hands gently move up his arms until you can hold his face between them, you repeat his name again and this time he slowly looks back up into your eyes. “It’s okay,” the corner of your lips twitch when you see his stoic look drop almost immediately, “we can go as slow…or as fast as you want to.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders, his arms slide around your back and he pulls you into an embrace. The move catches you off guard but you’re quick to hold him, your hands cradling the back of his head and neck wanting to savour the soft moment. You manage to turn your head enough to kiss the side of his head, your nose buried in his hair that smells like the hair gel Marc sometimes uses. Jake pulls away just enough to look at your face for a moment before he moves closer, nudging his nose against yours. Then he’s kissing you again, this time slower and softer it makes this speed feel even more intimate than before.

Jake rests his forehead against yours, your lips parting for only a moment, “can we just do this for a minute hermosa?” You’re nodding your head letting out a breathy laugh and angling up to kiss him again.

You both stay like that for much longer than a minute, fluctuating between short pecks and longer, slower kisses. He can’t keep his hands still, they move so gently across your skin from your hips to your thighs, to your waist even moving up to hold your face at one point. They find their final purchase on your sides, fingers digging into the soft skin there. Jake only stops his pursuit to press a kiss to your cheek whispering quiet words to himself like a prayer.

“Where did you get all your ideas from then?” Your own whispers interrupt him, a smile creeping on your face as he pulls away. That blush coating his cheeks has grown and he frankly looks adorable.

“I read.” You’re taken aback by that response, and now you’re just wondering exactly what he’s been reading. Jake moves in to kiss your cheek again, making his way closer to your ear. “I also watch a lot of por-“

“Okay!” You giggle as his fingers brush against your sides. That was the kind of thing you were expecting him to say first. Jake smiles down at you, a proper goofy carefree smile and he looks so sweet like this. It’s contagious, he’s got you grinning so much your eyes crinkle in the corners. A comfortable silence surrounds you, delicately your fingers comb through his hair. You’re both just taking a moment to admire each other.

“You know Steven isn’t going to be happy about this,” you lean to the side and look down at the heap of books and papers scattered on the floor. Jake follows your gaze before you look back at each other and he just shrugs.

“Worth it,” one of his hands cups your cheek and he dips down to kiss you again. It was definitely worth it.

~part 2~

#jake lockley #jake lockely fluff #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley fic #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley smut #moon knight x you #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight smut #moon knight #moonknight x reader #moonknight #jake lockley fanfiction

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liveontelevision · 3 months

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The Truth | Slow-burn Lucifer x Reader

Ok, i'm high, and it's late, so im posting this here without an ending just to let some people see this. Im wondering if anyone would be interested in a multi part series with this premise? It'll have its romance and fluff and smut, but i feel like theres alot to disect from this.

Unedited.

Heaven has been, and will continue to be, difficult with this redemption project. It took years for them to set up any sort of communication system with Charlie to even tell her when Sinners were redeemed. And even then, the best they could offer was a large counter hanging across the marquee outside the hotel. It simply said Redeemed Souls scribbled across the top and essientally would *ding!* every time a soul would ascend. There was no warning. Residents would simply disappear; all their belongings were left behind, and it happened while asleep or when demons died. Instead of resurrecting like all wayward sinners do, they would simply.. not. It would get gruesome at times, seeing a demon die and simply not get back up.

Still, the numbers grew. After the hotel was proven to work, sinners were essientally packing the rooms. And when more demons were redeemed, Charlie would take notes on their progess and apply it to future excersises. It was finally a thriving business! Charlie did it.

You had heard of the hotel's success a few months after the counter was installed and would occasionally walk by to see the number go up. It felt like you were trying to convince yourself to just go in, but something, maybe doubt, would always stop you. Your life was similar to an average sinner (drugs, sex, alcohol), but even those who have done worse were going to Heaven.

What was stopping you?

For once, the streets actually looked barren. Of course, it still had enough flow for regular business. Not everyone was buying into the redemption thing, but it definitely couldn't compare to the bustling streets you were used to. This made you uneasy. Friends and local business owners, you became aquintances with disappeared suddenly. It was deathly quiet. Discomfort aside, how could you possibly be upset about sinners becoming sparce?

You gave in. Almost all your hellbound friends were gone. If they could do it, so could you. Maybe that was another reason sinners attended the hotel; sheer loneliness.

You packed up the little belongings you had and approached the hotel after avoiding it for the past few months. The number was in the thousands at this point. Why did that make you so uneasy? Pushing those feelings aside, you entered the hotel and were met with dozens of friendly faces. The lobby had become a giant bustling hub with a bar, and there were some classroom type areas down a hall, you assumed for activities. Lively jazz music was playing softly throughout the area, echoeing against the ivory walls adorning red banners. It seemed like some kind of conference was being held here, but this was just how the hotel looked at its peak.

You were quickly ushered to a front desk, an imp checking you in and handing you a folder filled with paperwork and pamphlets.

After being shown to your room on one of the higher floors, assuming the rooms below were all filled, you were met with the sweet aroma of freshly baked apples. It seemed to come directly from your room, but peeking inside, you noticed there was no sign of even a personal kitchen. Before you could even ask, the imp who led you to your room ran through their scripted introduction.

"Your room number is 5 and is located on the 67th floor if you missed it. If you get lost, just make sure you head as far as you can go down the corridor to the left. It's closer to Lucifer's office than Alastor's studio, so keep that in mind as well. The room was personalized to your liking the moment you checked in, so all you need to do is unpack your belongings."

The imp droaned on, clearly exhuasted from saying these directions to every sinner that comes through.

"Any questions -"

"Well, I-"

"Can be answered in the lobby."

Your quizzative appearance drooped to an irrated one. You barely processed anything they said as you stepped into the room, feeling such a nostalgic warmth. The apple scent from before had dulled to a more comfortable level, and the room was filled to the brim with an aesethic that you would dream of having when you were alive. Suns and moons decorated the walls through hanging pieces, tapestries, and beaded artwork. The lights were always dimmed, and your bed was plush with an absurd amount of decorative pillows. Your desk doubled as a vanity with adjustable lights just in case, and your bathroom was large. Already stocked with your favorite soaps, oils, and washes, you suddenly had the urge to take a bath. You decided against it, just taking in the heavenly room. Maybe that was a part of the whole process, pure comfort.

You had so many questions about the redemption process. After plopping down at your smooth wood desk, you began to look through the thick pile of paperwork that you'd been holding this whole time. Inside, it held your room key, 67th Floor, Room #5. You pocketed that in the meantime, flipping through a pamphlet provided. "Wayward sinners, welcome! Explore the history of Hell and the redemption process! Keep in touch with demonic friends as you ascend! Be Better!" The bright text made your eyes squint, quickly scanning it before setting that aside. It's something you've seen on the streets before, nothing new. You finally look at some of the paperwork. There were rules, like no weapons or drugs, avoiding flings, etc. Then there were policies.. your room was searched on occasion with consent. If you were found to be a frequent drug user, you had a daily limit for drinks at the bar. Those made you cringe. It's a bit controlling, but for a greater cause, I guess.

Then, you reached the bolded text Redemption.

It had almost no details about what Heaven was actually like, but there were rules. Lots of rules. These papers were almost glowing, and it looked like they were written in golden ink. These must have been provided by Heaven. They warned that "the divine light will choose you when it finds you worthy" and "you won't need any belongings in Heaven" and a specific section that made you shiver.

"Heaven is a place for winners. Once you've joined the angels, all memories from Hell will become void. Memories from Hell could bring distraught and discomfort to previously residing angels."

Who would want this? What have you gotten yourself into?

•••••

There were mandatory meetings you would begrudgingly go to. There were other demons in a similar state and others who were running to attend every activity possible. They must not have read the paperwork, too frantic to be saved. Or were they okay with it? You shake your head, honestly trying to forget those readings any chance you get. A lot of the New Resident meetings were basically warnings that this is a place of rehabilitation. You'll be put through scenarios similar to A.A. or interventions. You'll have control over your privacy, but "we at the hotel are determined to get you to heaven!" So, they'll occasionally do random check ins and such.

After one of your beginner trust exercises, you roamed the halls, peaking in occasionally to see what others were doing. There were activities like yoga, crafts, therapy sessions, it was.. great..

You'd see the founders around. They were speakers at larger conferences, Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor were far too busy to attend every exercise with this number of residents. There were optional lecture areas, one of them being The History of Hazbin Hotel. After attending from pure curiousity and boredom, you got a good understanding of who all the founders were and their role in the system. There was a nice section on the first 2 souls accepted to heaven. Sir Pentious, previously a murderous death machine inventor and operator, and Angel Dust, previously a drug addicted, porn star.

They wrote it to make them seem worse than they were when they first arrived, probably to make redemption seem more achievable. It made you cringe. You listened on, hearing about Charlie's uprising and her childhood. And her father.

You read the same storybook that Charlie would use to ease her nerves in the past. Lucifer, who was banished to hell, forced to see the wicked and evil outcome of free will. Lucifer, who lost the will the dream. Why would this man want to send his people to such a horrid place? Thinking back on it, you did notice that he wasn't really involved in any activities or was even seen around the hotel. Even Charlie, you'd cross on rare occasions in the halls. She had truly become a beautiful and powerful demon, you'd think, reminiscing on the choatic news broadcast she was on that you watched years ago.

You developed a sort of dissonance for Lucifer. Sure, he was the most powerful being in Hell and physically rebuilt this hotel and its success, but he didn't make sense. It seemed like he hated heaven. How could he not? He was banished from his home by his own brothers, just for loving and dreaming. And he wants to send people right to their door? It just baffled you. Very slowly, it became an obsession. What was his deal? You learned about his life through meetings and lectures, pamphlets, and even material from the infinite library they provided. Your desk was quick to become a mess of books and notepads you'd use. You rarely left your room, making sure to avoid any activities that involved "making friends." That sounded so stupid to you. You'll make friends with demons, then assend just to forget them? You couldn't have been the only demon questioning this whole situation, so why were sinners even here? You spiraled. This whole operation was beginning to make your head spin.

•••

Time went on, and while your mental state was improving, it still didn't break your hyperfixation on where this hotel could've gone wrong. It used to be small and friendly, some sinners would stay, some would give up, and some ascended without them even knowing. But now, it was a bonified operation. Something had to happen in the meantime to change its course so drastically. And you wanted to find out.

On average, sinners were in the hotel anywhere from 6 months to 2 years. A year has passed since you arrived, and while you kicked any addictioms you had, you weren't one to participate in many activities. This obsession drove you mad, clouding any thoughts of redemption you might've had. You had even been appointed a therapist for one on one sessions, which you would go to begrudgingly. You'd spin tails about your life and make it seem like a nostalgic bliss that you wanted to return to, buttering it up for this stranger in front of you. That gave them enough of a distraction to keep them from questioning your research. After this painfully long year, seeing hundreds come and go, you realized you had to go to the top. It seemed like the King of Hell may be the only one who might understand you. In a desperate attempt to get any comfort in your overthinking, you'd talk to other sinners about your thoughts, but they rarely gave you the time of day, like you were a babbling maniac. Because you were a babbling maniac.

But Lucifer? He has to understand. There has to be a reason he's not openly participating in the hotel. But he's here, right down your hall even. It was never as easy as walking up to his office and just questioning him, no matter how often you tried. It was either locked, or you could hear voices from inside. When the door was open, the office was spotless, and no one was inside. This was around meal times, breakfast most often and late into the night. Sometimes, you go inside to snoop and hope that maybe he'd walk in on you and you'd be forced into a conversation before he'd eventually kicked you out. That never happened.

It was a late night for you. There was a gala going on in the lobby, celebrating the 10th reunion of the hotel's renovation or something like that. Of course you didn't go, you were too busy hunched over the paperwork sprawled across your bed. It was a compilation of policies from the papers you got on your first day, random notebook pages and scribbles, and some photos collected from a variety of magazines. You'd essentially given up trying to look presentable. Your hair always tied sloppily out of your face and mainly wearing oversized sweatshirts and shorts that would disappear under the flow of your sweaters. You paced across your room. Every time you stopped to look at your work, you'd become riled up and continued to walk in circles.

"None of it makes sense! What the actual Fuck is wrong with Hell??" You spoke out loud, stopping in your tracks to look at your weakened state in the mirror on your vanity. Suddenly, tears began to run down your cheeks before you could even feel yourself choke up.

"What's wrong with me..?"

You looked back down to your bed and let out a growl, swiping all the papers off your bed in a frenzy. Random papers floated around you, frustration collecting in your body as a headache. You rubbed your temples with a sigh before taking a walk outside the room. You went to a vending machine that was provided on each floor, that had essientally anything you could want as a midnight snack. Along with some other necessities, you used some cash to get painkillers and a bag of gummy candy. Sauntering back to your room, you noticed a trail of your research peaking out your open door. You must've left it open in a hurry. You followed those papers that definitely weren't there before, to see a figure standing in front of your bed, some of the papers in hand. Your stomach dropped, just the sight of someone seeing your vulnerability made you flush.

"H-Hey! I left my door open, but that doesn't mean you can.. just -" your voice trailed off, catching red glowing eyes in your dimly lit room. It was fucking Lucifer. He blinked, his demon red eyes returning to a soft yellow. You had no idea how to react to this sudden encounter, scanning anything in the room to change the subject.

"Your Highness! Right, uh.. Good evening.. sir..? Erm.. How can I help you..?" You attempted to talk to him like you hadnt been secretly wanting this for months. After you managed to finally make eye contact with him, you noticed it; he was crying. Both of you squint at the sudden brightness hitting you, as you turn on your overhead light.

Thick, wet tears fell from his incredibly tired eyes. He looked like a mess. He wore what would've been an incredibly formal and modern tuxedo get up, but was soiled by his stature. His blazer had fallen off his shoulders, revealing a half tucked, wrinkled, black dress shirt that clashed with his porcelain skin. His shirt was unbottoned a good deal, and the tie loosely dangled undone. His face was worse. His eyes were incredibly heavy, those tears still trailing from his eyes to the bottom of his chin. The golden locks that looked so quaffed on magazine covers were a mess as well, strands falling loosely across his eye line. You noticed a soft pink across his entire face and a slight sway to his stance. Once you approached him a little closer, the smell of alcohol immediately hit you. This angel was plastered.

You look at the papers in his hand. One held a very aggressively scribbled picture of his face from a magazine, and the other held an antonized page from the handbook you received on day one. Just from those papers alone, you could understand your motivations. The redemption policy was scrutinized and scribbled over with phrases, "What does this have to do with redemption?" "What happens to your memories?" "Who's really running things?"

On the picture of Lucifer, a large red phrase across the front;

"How could he let this happen?"

You wince, immediately recognizing what information he's taken in.

"You're right.. Fuck, you're right. How did i let things get this far? What would Charlie think if she- Damn it!" He was muttering under his breath, not understanding his intentions.

"I'm sorry, it's such a mess in here, i wasnt expecting guests." You stop yourself, using defensive sarcasm probably wasnt the best move here. "Uh.. you can- um.. here.. " you fumble around your things and finally clear off your desk chair, beckoning the king to sit. He stumbles, his bottom hitting the seat with a thud as it begins to roll back from the force. You let out a nervous chuckle, beginning to neatly pile up the papers on your bed until you had a place to sit, facing him from the edge of your bed." I'm.. sorry, that you saw all this.. it's just crazy.. shit.. I'll get rid of it." You apologized like a kid who got caught stealing. Lucifer slowly blinked his eyes before wiping his tears with the cuff of his shirt, sniffling quietly.

You quickly reached past him to take a nearby tissue box and plop it in his lap. You sat silently, his ragging breath and sniffles filling the quietness of the room. He collected himself enough to process what you had said. "Oh! No, nono need to. Not any of my business what you do in.. your own.. room.." he looked around and cleared his throat before realizing the irony in his words. "I apologize, i shouldnt be in a random sinners room at this hour. I'll be on my way." He spoke as clearly as he could, being drunk and sobbing only moments ago. He stumbled to stand as he attempts to dust off his already askewed suit. He turns his back to you, beginning to leave.

"No! Shit- I - excuse me.. Mr.. Lucifer.. Sir..." You quickly stand and reach your arm out in his direction. He turns on his heels, acting as regal as he could, considering the situation. "This.. mess... this is.. all I've been thinking about since i came here... this hotel..? Is a fucking prison! How can heaven be so stubborn that they have to bring their rules and policies down to Hell? I dont understand how you could -" Your voice became increasingly aggressive as you realize you were about to scold him for your theories. You begin to shrink into yourself, believing this powerful being would kill you on the spot for such disobedience.

Lucifer was looking at you, dumbfound, at the intense passion you were imitting from your words. He realized how much you were cowering in his presence, and the feeling was extra reminiscent of his time in heaven. People above him, glaring upon his dreams with disgust and him not having anything to say. He shook his head and placed a hand on your shoulder. He did his best to send a smile your way, but he wasn't sure how that worked out in his state. "You're right. This hotel has become a god damn nightmare. I wish i could say more, but it's been a looong night." He drawls out his words before using the hand on your shoulder to keep his balance. You took his arm and hesitantly wrapped it around your shoulder, attempting to brace him up as you walk towards his office. It wasnt that far, just right down the hall, it shouldnt be an issue as long as no one sees you." Mmy name is Lucifer- oh, oh! This here, this is my room." He eargly pokes his finger at his obviously labeled door. "Okay Lucifer, think you'll be okay from here?" You try to talk with confidence, while you process that the king of hell is using you to stay on his feet. He nods and opens the door, stepping in with a sigh of relief. He spins around on his feet to face you from the doorframe.

"Be here tomorrow. At lunch. I'll tell you everything." His voice was stern and clear, and you couldn't tell if that was from the alcohol or not. He sways away and grins his toothy grin, saying, "Good night!" He shuts the door before you have a chance to respond. Could that have been drunken babbling? If it wasn't.. what does he know?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #eventual smut

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phantom-dc · 1 year

Text

Dad Hood - part 1

Danny is fighting Desiree. A giant monster tiger is attacking him. He dodges its claws and blasts it away with an ectoblast. Stupid tourists, making wishes at the fountain. This is not a little kitty, Desiree! Desiree taunts him, daring him to wish it away. The tiger pounces again, but it is caught in a Fenton net. Danny looks down. Thanks mom! Maddie reigns the tiger in. No problem sweetie! After the whole disasteroid thing, his life has become so much better! Amity Park knew who he was and accepted him. Thank god the rest of the world had no idea, otherwise the GIW would be after him! And with Vlad in space, Danny could finally live his half-life! Danny goes after Desiree again, defeating her. Jack is happy. Look at him. He's growing up to be such a great ghost hunter! He tears up. Sometimes I wish he was a little kid again, so he can hang out with his dad like old times! Jazz screams Dad no! But it is too late. Desiree grants his wish, enveloping Danny in purple mist. When it dissipates, Danny is gone. Maddie quickly uses her portal-zooka to pull Desiree into the Ghost Zone. Jazz is angry at Jack. Dad, what did you do? You know you can’t wish for anything near Desiree! Jack feels guilty, but he doesn’t understand. Even if Danny was made a kid again, shouldn’t he still be here? To hang out with his dad? Maddie becomes angry. Jack, did you forget that Danny was adopted? Jack thinks for a second. Oops.

Jason is tired. It had been a long patrol. First some thugs had been harassing his girls, then 2 dealers thought they could infringe on his territory, and after that he found a warehouse filled with penguins of all things. God, couldn’t that guy store his birds somewhere else? In short, Jason just wanted his bed. He gets to his latest safe house, one of the nice ones. He wanted to sleep in an actual bed tonight. Checking the alarms, he went inside. Taking of his helmet and jacket, he put them down on the chair. He gets a beer and throws of his shoes and shirt, forgotten on the floor. He puts the beer down and opens the closet, checking to see if this safehouse has pajama’s. Purple mist briefly rolls around his feet, but aside from a sneeze, Jason doesn’t notice due to fatigue. Picking Wonder Woman pants and a red shirt, he closes the closet and turns around. He stops. There’s a kid. In his appartement. The kid is holding his helmet, examining it. Jason tries to sneak up on him, but the kid notices him. Laughing, he runs off making Jason chase him. Jason needs the helmet back, it’s got explosives in it! Jason nearly trips over his shoes as the kid jumps on the bed. The kid tries to jump off, but Jason grabs him mid-air. Jason holds the kid up, taking away the helmet. The kid laughs, and Jason examines him. The kid has white hair and familiar green eyes. He’s wearing a black shirt with white overalls, and he looks about 5-6 years old. Jason asks him how he got inside. The kid shrugs. You don’t know? The kid says he can’t remember, but he doesn’t seem too troubled by it. He asks Jason if they can play more tag. Jason is confused: Tag? The kid squeals: TAG! And slips out of Jason’s grip, to his suprise. Jason chases after him again, yelling at him to come back, there are weapons in here! The kid just laughs. He tries to crawl under the bed, but Jason grabs him by the ankle, pulling him out. As he pulls him up, upside down, he notices something that shocks him. The kid’s eyes are full Lazarus green and glowing while he is laughing in delight! Jason puts the kid down, asking him to calm down. The kid still giggles, but sits down. First off; Who are you? 'My name is Danny!' Ok, Danny. You said you didn’t know how you got in here? 'Nope!' As in, you just woke up here? What’s the last thing you remember? 'Hmmmm. Nothing!' But you knew your name? 'Oh! Yeah I did! Weird!' Jason gets a bad feeling about all this. Do you know why your eyes are so… green? 'Oh! That’s because I died!' Jason was startled by how cheerily the kid said that. It makes his own eyes flash green as well. The kid is surprised at this, and climbs up Jason to get to his face. You’re like me! You’re dead too! Jason grabs him, telling him to calm down. Danny just keeps laughing. Jason sighs, putting Danny under his arm. He re-checks his alarms, but finds that none have been activated. Its like the kid just popped up! Jason asks if Danny has any place to stay. Danny thinks a bit, but can’t think of any place. Where are we actually? Jason is surprised the kid doesn’t know where he is. He debates his options. He could leave the kid somewhere, either at one of his shelters or with his girls. No, that’s a bad idea, the kid saw his face. He’d tell everyone. Maybe he could leave him with Bruce? An image of the 5 year-old in a Robin costume flashes before his eyes, tinting them green again. Not an option. So he can’t leave them with civilians, nor his family. Then that means… 'What’s this?' Danny is holding his taser. As Jason rushes to take it away, he just thinks that this is going to suck.

Next - AO3

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #batman #red hood #dp x dc prompt #jason todd #dad jason #dad hood

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lorimnnn · 11 months

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hey babez :3 could u possibly write about how michael feels for a hyperfemme bimbo gf? like he never sees her without heels and lashes on X3 this is shamelessly a self insert lol

i have no excuses. this has been sitting in my inbox and stewing in my mind for way too long but here it is!!! i was so excited to put it out I have no idea what happened lol

hope you enjoy my love!!

p.s. remember to reblog and comment!!!

cw: swearing, canon-typical violence, suggestive themes

i feel like a lot of the people who say he wouldn't care because he's literally a psychopathic serial killer forget he was born in 1957. He was literally raised in the sixties--- he won't care BUT HE'S GOING TO NOTICE.

michael is a watcher. long before he approached you he has memorised your routine, developed favourites from your closet, salivated over the doe-eyed batting of your long lashes when something doesn't quite go your way. you will later learn that your missing makeup products and fraying clothes is because of this fucker playing with you.

he's intrigued by you. the way you prance around without a care in the world, legs exposed, everything exposed. it's so scandalous. it feels like a sin to look at you alone.

the confidence that you carry yourself with only arouses him even more. he can't even fully objectify you because you know your worth and have standards and therefore he finds himself wondering what you're like. your personality. everything in between.

it becomes obsessive

when he approaches you, it's to extinguish his desire over your body. over you.

if he lets it go any further he'll---

are you... are you flirting with him?

he doesn't know how to feel with you looking directly at him, flinging comments his way despite knowing, KNOWING who he is. you're not even mistaken, you're just going for it even though he still has a knife in his hand

he already can't resist you

when you start running your hands down his body, he's done. just done.

if you're a bimbo in the 1960s (idfk you time travelled), you're going to be an outsider yourself and it makes him feel closer to you. you're practically a power couple--- two outsiders doing whatever the fuck you want with your lives? marriage. now.

you make him feel like a filthy old man. michael was raised with ideas of a white-picket fence and a busy 9-5 with a pretty wife to come home to. all that jazz. while he isn't that traditional you're going to be uprooting everything he once thought he knew and you best believe that when he looks at you, there is not one clean thought in his head

he becomes possessive tenfold. it doesn't help that you're dead gorgeous. will try stop you from leaving the house. will lock you and isolate you in there if he knew it wouldn't draw attention. why the fuck did you have to be so popular?

so many guys asking after you are now dead. and they keep popping up like flies--- Michael gets annoyed by this really easily. it's probably the only part of your getup and lifestyle that he doesn't really like. since he's a pretty independent killer and likes to go and do his own thing, it sets him on edge knowing he can't leave you alone for a minute without having like, 500 men pile up on his hit list

you get a free scary dog now at least. yay! privileges! feel free to walk wherever you want at whatever time of day or night. Michael will take care of you and castrate any man dumbass enough to even look your way

michael is so obsessed it's not okay

his favourite part about this though is watching you get ready. then tearing it all off you and watching you have to start again. you'll be doing your makeup and his hands will just be running up and down your legs, squeezing your thighs and waist, bruises left in his wake.

you'll be constantly swatting him away because he can't help himself. his hand is always on an exposed part of your skin

he just thinks you're so gorgeous and not in a loving way, but an inquisitive way. he's genuinely affronted by how good you look and he doesn't understand it, that explosive, sensual vitality of yours that can never be snuffed out and is so, uniquely you. he wants to pull you apart and understand you because just like him, you're an anomaly of your time

he already has a staring problem... can you imagine him now? he's not looking away once. it'll quickly get uncomfortable because he just won't stop. doesn't even wanna close his eyes when you're sleeping. everything you do to him is just provoking him. push his face away? he's going to steel himself and lean into your touch. shove him? he's a brick wall and thinks you're feeling him up. yell at him about it? he's unimpressed--- don't you get it? you're literally the centre of his world. why would he look away?

michael is literally feral for you i don't make the rules

tell him you've got nothing to wear and he will go and pick an outfit he's lowkey been fantasising about for a good month, waiting for the opportunity. and it's actually pretty good. depending on how you react, this will become his love language for you--- acts of service.

definitely starts targeting other bimbos and stealing from their closet to give you clothes.

i have a very clear image in my head of The Shape himself, prowling down the streets of Haddonfield and surveying the empty streets of the night, utterly ferocious as he hunts his next kill---

completely softening when his bimbo s/o, previously clinging to his arm like they're on a nightly stroll, trips over nothing.

if your feet ever start to hurt from the heels, he will happily carry you. but not in a cute way. as in a 'I want you around but you're holding me up. I'm going to sweep you off your feet now. Don't fall."

decorate his mask with lip prints

I dare you

you'd think he would hate it but it's been like a few weeks and the lip prints are still there. you know he loves it. he knows he loves it. he will always pretend to be indifferent though and it will surprise you every time. michael can care less about how scary he looks. even with his s/o making him look like a besotten college boyfriend, looking scary is the last of his worries when he's literally a famed killer.

since he's following you anyway, use his pockets. mechanics overalls have so many pockets. and he'll encourage you. if you ever end up walking around at night with him and start complaining that you forgot your lipgloss at home, he's going to suddenly be holding out his hand--- he's a walking, non-talking, portable storage bin and be grateful because this is his only way of showing non-physical affection lmao. i fully suggest you take advantage of this. he doesn't need his pockets anyway, he holds his knife. so feel free to stock him up and rummage around as much as you like

but be warned. if you touch him in the slightest when retrieving your lipgloss from one of his pockets, he's going to think you're sending signals.

holds all your specialists at knife point so you can get your stuff done for free. if you don't like that, just tell him. but he thinks he's helping you lmfao. your poor nail girl is pissing herself trying to glue on your acrylics

just give him lots of kisses to fuel up for the day and he's good (he will stand there and act unresponsive and neutral, but if you don't give him his daily dose of affection he's going to continue to stand there, blocking your path until you do)

and don't be fooled, either. Michael may be soft on you but he is not a soft man

definitely takes sick pleasure in seeing his bruises peeking out of your skimpy clothes, his marks on full display on your neck. it's just so territorial and it's one of the few things that is able to send a rush through him--- knowing that everyone wants you and that you're walking prey, but you've already been claimed

is like an animal around you. give him one signal and you will definitely be devoured--- i hope you don't spend a lot of money on clothes because you're going to find a lot of it destroyed. better learn how to sew

just think of him as your pet rabid dog. full stop.

otherwise i actually think Michael loves his hyperfemme bimbo gf. not that he'll admit it, but you know. he's horrible at hiding it but it has a lot to do with the fact he doesn't try. just stay out of trouble and he won't wreck havoc on your life <3

Michael has always been an outsider.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd become a killer as a kid, although that was the first and most obvious sign. Growing up in the sanitarium had only conditioned him into believing he could never be anything else and that his only mercy would be embracing it. Funny. Now he was rumoured to be the devil incarnate: the ultimate outsider.

But that wasn't the point.

Even if Michael weren't a killer, he'd always been different. A flimsy grasp on emotions and even clumsier responses to things that were supposed to inspire sympathy. Sadness. Pity. The in-between emotions that weren't quite happy but weren't quite sad or angry or scared. But he'd just been slow in development, right? One day it would end and he would wake up and be like the rest of them. It had been a naive thought--- it had gotten Judith killed.

The sanitarium also taught Michael other things, other than the fact that he would never belong in society as anything more than a menace and disruption. He learned that he was a rarity. Some sort of unexplainable anomaly that they had to contain because they couldn't understand, and because he didn't care about changing that, he would never be free. The sanitarium had taught Michael that people feared him because there weren't many of him. So he gave them something real to fear.

He never really came across someone like him. It wouldn't have really changed things, but it would have added bredth to perspective. But Michael would soon find out that anomalies like him came in all shapes and sizes. Anomalies, like you, were just as strange, even if you fit in much better than he did.

You.

He didn't know what to make of you.

"Hey sexy!" A drunkard's voice floated over the heads over the bar and stabbed right into your back. You only wrinkled your nose.

"Um, ew!"

"Aw, don't be like that. You don't mean that." His eyes raked over you. "Looking for anybody, hey? I can save you the time you spend searching."

You look like you're about to gag. "No. Like, never. In a kajillion years."

"Bitch."

"What's the word again?" You frowned. "The men with no dicks?"

"... Eunuchs?"

"Yeah!" You beamed. "That's you. 'Cause you have no balls."

His friends roared in laughter as red crawled over the man's face. You were satisfied enough by then to move on. You knew he wasn't done. He'd probably try follow you home. That made you smirk.

You had a little magic trick up your sleeve for little diseases like them. A magic trick you weren't even sure knew that you knew he existed: Michael fucking Myers.

Michael didn't understand what it was about you that stuck out so much. You were here at the bar for what every other person was there for. Talk. Drink. Fuck, maybe, if you got lucky that was. You were all dolled up like every other woman in the room but it was like the spotlight was naturally attracted to you and he couldn't look away. Was it that tiny little skirt? Your tits pressed up towards your chin by a tight little top? You were so scandalously dressed and hid nothing. Your intentions were clear and yet somehow that repelled people the same way it drew them in.

Michael could tell you were like him. You couldn't relate to the conversations. The difference was that you tried to. They'd just laugh at you and walk away--- another dead tonight.

How long has it been, now? Since he'd started stalking you? A few days? Weeks? Months?

It had never occurred to him that you could be doing it on purpose. Changing with your blinds wide open, bending over when you caught a glimpse of him standing there in your mirror. But the obsession had gripped him. There was no escaping.

And it was distracting him horribly.

You would die tonight, he decided. These... Feelings would die with you.

It all happens in moments.

Him, following you home.

Him, raising the knife above his head.

You, turning before it could meet home, pressing your body against his.

"I knew you'd say hi one day."

Michael stops. Tilts his head.

"Not like this, though." You pout. You run your finger down the cheek of his mask and along the zipper of his mechanic's overalls. Your touch is electric and he can nearly feel it against his skin, the thrills exploding at the slightest pressure. "I'm honestly kind of hurt."

He could kill you now.

Maybe give you a chance to run?

Having you see him and speak directly to him, though, is a dizzying feeling he can't quite seem to recover from. But from the outside he looks stoic. He looks like he's humouring you before your inevitable death, which you inwardly frantically hope against.

"Michael, right?" You taste the word, curiously finding your way around it. "Mikey."

He stares at you impassively.

"I thought you had a crush on me." You draw circles into his chest with your finger and tilt your head back to look at him. "Did I get it wrong?"

Er... Not really.

You were either really dumb or maybe just---

Maybe a little weird like him.

Michael slowly lowers the knife. You take it as an olive branch and push yourself further against him, hard enough to feel the contours of his toned stomach and the rippling valleys of his body. Muscular. Well, he was a serial killer. You could put that thought away for now, though.

"I've been dying for you to talk to me all week. What took you so long?" You bite your lip. "I almost went and talked to you myself. Oh. Oooh. Maybe I should have. I think you're more excited than I am that we're finally talking."

Experimentally, his hand comes up to take hold of your throat. He inspects you--- your long, fake lashes framing filthy doe eyes, the sparkling smear of eyeshadow across your lid that matches your abnormally long and sharp nails. The confidence in which you hold yourself despite being at the mercy of The Shape himself. Genuine.

You're being genuine.

And Michael is... Feeling things. A lot of things. It's almost overwhelming, the onslaught of arousal, the heightened obsession, the near-desperate desire to possess you right there and then---

Mine, he thinks, and he almost says it out loud. Mine.

#slasher x reader #slashers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #slasher #slasher x y/n #michael myers x y/n #halloween #michael myers x you #why tf does tumblr have a word limit on bullet points i hate this i wanted to include so much more what the fuck

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akechi-stole-my-heart · 1 year

Text

no more what ifs - a goro akechi meta

Inspired by a meta I reblogged a bit ago. It was really good and you should read it, as it serves as a good companion piece to this analysis, but it didn't analyze the song through the specific lens I personally believe it's meant to be seen through--that is, the Third Semester/Maruki's reality. Don't get me wrong, I think the song can be applied to Akechi in general, just that we can't truly understand the depths of its meaning unless we view it through the lens of what Akechi is feeling in the Third Semester. Needless to say, that's what I'll be doing here.

People come and they go Some people may stay with you though I am all alone tonight and I kept on Asking myself questions

Akechi has lived most of his life alone. People have come and gone temporarily, but no one has really stuck until Joker entered his life. (I don't think I need to make the case that it's Joker he's talking about when he says some people stay with you, I think it's pretty obvious it has to be him.) Joker, someone he can't comprehend, the only person he's let in. Akechi can't understand Joker, so naturally, he's constantly thinking of him, and why he's stuck with him when so many others haven't.

Conceited I was at time I never really doubted myself But tonight got me thinking about it all If I am the fool or what not

All Akechi can do in the Third Semester is think about his choices and his mistakes and wonder if he did the right thing and what led him here. He's been forced to live (for now) after everything he'd worked and lived for fell apart under him. He's reflecting on his past arrogance and how that blinded him.

"If I am the fool or what not" holds a double meaning. Akechi is doubting if he was a fool in the general sense, if he was made a fool for his plan of revenge. But he's also wondering if he was the Fool in the Persona sense of the word (something that will have a payoff at the end of the song).

I do not Regret with my choices I'm rather proud Ooh I know I won't change Anything Because I can only be me so

Akechi can't afford regret. To regret would be to admit that Maruki's ideal reality, where his choices were erased, has any hold on him. To regret would be to let go of the person he is and the person he has become.

Who Akechi really is is another topic that can be elaborated on ad nauseum, so I won't do that here. Maybe I'll do that another time when I finally write the meta about Akechi and agency that's been living in my head for a long while.

Suffice to say, Akechi believes his choices, his actions, his revenge, all define him. He refuses to let Maruki erase them just because they don't fit with his ideal reality. Akechi is fundamentally incompatible with everything Maruki stands for, and he knows it.

How can I be so sure? At a crossroads I'm afraid too But I can't let fear get the best of me Someone once said burn my dread babe

"Burn my dread" is a reference to a song from Persona 3. I haven't played the entire game as of yet, but Persona 3 is a game all about facing and accepting death. "Burn my dread" is a lyric that points to this theme, and the theme of facing one's fears head-on.

Akechi is dead. He knows this perhaps from the very moment he comes back to life. He certainly knows it for most of the Third Semester. He is dead, and to reject Maruki's reality, to embrace himself, is to face that death for the second time, and accept it. But Akechi can't let his fear of death stop him from making his choice. He will die on his own terms and "burn his dread."

Who knows what tomorrow holds? Just wanna live my life the way I want What fills up my soul is passionate Music that makes me want to sing

This is, yet again, Akechi asserting that he will be himself, that he will find meaning in life on his own terms, and that he will not let anyone other than himself define who he is or what he wants. Music is dynamic and complex, something that can express deep truths of one's soul. The Jazz Jin, a place of music, is Akechi's in a way very little else is. It's not Shido's puppet's, not the Detective Prince's, but Akechi's place of solitude and self reflection. It is the place he decides to share with Joker--in a way, he is baring his very soul to Joker. Letting him into his heart.

My story will be starring me just like yours ooh ooh Who knows when will it end What matters most is how you bring joy to life so

This is paying off the beginning of the song. Akechi is asserting that the world doesn't revolve around Joker. Goro is the Fool, he is the main character, he is not defined by anyone but himself and himself alone.

And the last two lines simply restate themes running throughout the song. Akechi is himself. He will accept his death when it comes, and he will not live by anyone's rules but his own.

No More What Ifs shows us the doubt that Akechi rarely expresses that runs deep to his core. Wondering if he made a mistake in isolating himself, wondering if Joker was right all along, wondering if and how things might have gone wrong.

But Akechi can't let himself doubt for long. He always comes back to that certainty that he can't be anyone but himself. He can't let anyone change him. He can't let go of who he is, not for anything. The song is full of him reassuring himself of his path--that no matter what, he will not regret. He can't afford it. He will not waver from his path.

Now, more than ever, after being faced with the consequences of his mistakes and being offered an out, Akechi has to assert his free will and defy Maruki. And that's what this song expresses.

#sera posts #goro akechi #akechi goro #p5r #p5r spoilers #akeshu #shuake #sera talks goro

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performativezippers · 22 days

Note

I absolutely love Alone and would love the director’s cut of it, but particularly of this part

Kate is taller than Lucy by a good six inches, but she seems small right now, curled in on herself, like she’s bracing herself against something heavy and devastating.

Lucy’s forgotten to be angry for the last few minutes, too focused on figuring out the mystery of what is making Kate so twitchy, on picturing the woman she loved lying in pool of her own coagulating blood, but as the answer makes itself clear to her, she can already feel the rage starting to simmer in her gut again.

It’s the only gap in the timeline. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

All she has to say is, “How’d you get to the hospital?” and Kate looks up at her, pressing her lips into a thin, white line, the worry lines in her forehead standing out, stark and deep against the unhealthy pallor of her face.

Kate doesn’t bother to lie to her. “I took an uber,” she says, and, there it is.

Lucy fucking loses it.

The image of Kate in a fucking stranger’s car, huddled in the backseat, hiding her blood and her fear from some strange man, someone who could have taken advantage of her, hurt her even more. He must have smelled the blood, seen the clots in her hair. Lucy finds herself wanting to rip his head off; he, who was there at Kate’s most vulnerable moment, when he did fucking nothing to deserve it.

He, who was there when Lucy should have been.

The fury finds Lucy again and sweeps her off her feet, carrying her along in a wild current. She can tell that underneath the rapids are huge boulders of fear, but she lets herself skim the surface, only letting the pure rage touch her.

Oh i love this fic! This makes me happy.

This fic was from a prompt, which I rarely do these days, but it was such a great idea that it really grabbed me right away. I loved the idea of Kate being so alone that when something bad happens, she can't fathom having anyone there for her. I think a lot about living alone, being so isolated, lacking any sense of community like Season 1 Whistler did. As someone who is chronically ill and lucky enough to be married to a wonderful person, I don't have to worry about that. When I passed out in the bathroom a few years ago, she was literally right next to me, and by the time I came to she was already on the phone with 911, sat next to me for 12 hours in the ER while I waited to be seen, all that jazz. So thinking about a similar situation for Kate without a WifeZipps was really what gripped me here.

Also, random aside, the imagery of Kate waking up in the pool of her blood was inspired by an episode of Bones from the first season I think, where Bones is in New Orleans and she wakes up hurt and bleeding, alone, and she doesn't know where she is or what happened, or even if all the blood was hers. Booth flies down and is in a fucking tizzy the whole episode that someone hurt his (not)girlfriend, and so that's some of the energy I pulled into this fic.

Anyway, I wrote this fic originally as just the first chapter, just a sad Kate POV, and then I realized I wanted Lucy's response too, that maybe the meat of the fic was actually in Lucy's revelation, rather than Kate's injury.

What I enjoyed so much was playing with the POV's. In Kate's, re: the uber, all she says is: "She changes her bloody shirt, puts on a baseball hat and a jacket with a popped collar, and doesn’t give the driver a good look at the right side of her head. The drive isn’t long, but the waiting room at the hospital is full."

Meanwhile, as you posted above, Lucy says: "The image of Kate in a fucking stranger’s car, huddled in the backseat, hiding her blood and her fear from some strange man, someone who could have taken advantage of her, hurt her even more. He must have smelled the blood, seen the clots in her hair. Lucy finds herself wanting to rip his head off; he, who was there at Kate’s most vulnerable moment, when he did fucking nothing to deserve it. He, who was there when Lucy should have been."

Kate is so practical, right. "I put on a hat, it was fine." Meanwhile Lucy is catastrophizing but also much more correct, with her fear that he can see it, smell it, want to take advantage of it. Getting in an uber in the middle of the night as a woman alone is scary no matter what, and then if you're bleeding, hurt, disoriented, it's so much worse. I would be Lucy if my wife told me she took a fucking uber to the hospital with an open head wound. I would be so fucking scared for her.

I liked playing with Kate only realizing how fucking dumb that was when she sees it reflected in Lucy's eyes. And I like Lucy only realizing how alone Kate is when confronted with the matter-of-fact-ness of Kate's decision to go alone, to ride alone, to wait alone, to sleep alone, to clean up the blood alone. Kate is like, well obviously, what else would I have done? And that makes Lucy realize so many things. And I like that.

#ask zipps #zipps director's cut #alone by zipps #kate whistler #lucy tara #kacy #kacy fic

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nonclassyparty · 8 months

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man with the plan (j.wy) - chapter 3

Summary: "Don't forget Pretty, I'm serving life plus one. So if I get busted for attempted escape, I'll throw in a homicide in there as well with no problem, that’s like a parking ticket to me." When your brother ends up in jail for a murder he didn't commit, the only thing left for you to do is to find a way to break him out. But after a perfect plan is set in motion, you don't expect a romantic variable to get added into the equation.

Pairing: jung wooyoung x fem. reader, jeong yunho x reader (but if u squint)

Status: in progress

Word count: 11.2k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, violence, death

Taglist: @tinyjuni @hazysan @atinytinaa @tenebrisirae @doggopepper @dazzlingstarrs @lavishloving @cherrypandora @silentcry329 @jeagerist-20 @myunvillage @manipulatedstars @bitteryu @maru-matt @bubbleteakittyy @joonsthethicc

my main masterlist // playlist // moodboard // ao3

chapter 2 // masterlist // chapter 4

Chapter 3; Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?

"I went through all of it five times by now, every appeal is denied, I keep getting brushed to the side every time I just so much as mention it to anyone in the courthouse," Yeosang sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration with one hand while he twirls his drink with the other. "I'm telling you, Y/N, someone made sure the lack of evidence was brushed under the rug, they were stressing his previous record, you saw it yourself that day in court!"

You nod silently, eyes falling to the table filled with, by now, empty plates in front of you both as your voices carried over the pleasant jazz music playing in the background of the restaurant.

"Someone wants Jongho to go down for this and made sure that he never sees the light of day again outside a prison cell." He continues and your gaze flies to his face which was filled with anguish.

Jongho and Yeosang loved each other once upon a time. Highschool sweethearts that you imagined would stay together through thick and thin.

When everything between them fell apart, Yeosang claims it was Jongho's fault and Jongho claims it was the opposite (you think it was both of them), you barely saw Yeosang again unless it was at a crowded college bar somewhere, a smile of familiarity exchanged between the two of you but nothing other than that.

But he was the person Jongho called when he needed an attorney and Yeosang did his best, you can vouch for him, but there is so much a simple attorney can do against people at a much higher security clearance.

And yet, after doing everything that was in his power even still stubbornly investigating the case when all was said and done, his guilt is palpable.

"No murder weapon, no actual motive, nothing except the footage from the security cameras of him walking up the front steps of the house. It doesn't make any sense, it's obvious he was already dead when Jongho walked into his office." Yeosang runs another frustrated hand through his hair before taking a sip of his drink.

"I know." Is all you can quietly say, why?

Because you've spent a good portion of the last eighteen months trying to drill the same thing into the heads of anyone that was willing to listen. Judges, attorneys, police officers...and it all fell onto deaf ears so now, your brother was stuck in a cell for life for something he didn't do unless you do something about it.

Which you are.

"I mean...it has to be someone from the higher ups orchestrating all of this." He voices out with a frown before scoffing, "The governor went on live television and said if the death penalty was still allowed, Jongho would be the first one sent to the chair. Who says that nowadays?! With so little proof..." He trails off, eyes falling downwards in defeat.

Your hands clench at the mention of the governor, the image of his precious son in his scrubs and white coat coming to mind. You wonder if Jung Wooyoung sees the actions of his father as something admirable or does he detest him for it.

"Do you visit him regularly?" Yeosang breaks you out of your thoughts with his quiet question and you straighten up in your seat, hands wrapping around your own glass of gin.

"Yeah, every Friday." You answer with a faint smile, deciding to retain the information that you see Jongho every morning as you work at the prison, from Yeosang for the time being.

"H-How is he? Does he look okay?" He asks, fingers playing with the napkin laying on his empty plate.

"He's fine." You respond with a solemn sigh before forcing a smile, "He bulked up a lot. I guess when there's not much to do, working out gets fun."

"Ah." He nods, eyes still on the napkin.

"You should visit him sometime." You state lightly, knowing that your brother would love to see him but Yeosang just shakes his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Yeosang chuckles humorlessly, scratching his nose, "Besides, Soobin and I got engaged and...well, I don't know how to tell him that. It's just best if I stay away."

You nod in response with a heavy heart, knowing that your brother deep down always hoped he and Yeosang would get back together once Jongho got his head screwed on right and stopped messing around. That train has passed now.

"I get it." You tell him, not wanting Yeosang to think that you resent him for anything regarding your brother. While he may be Jongho's ex-boyfriend that's getting married to someone else pretty soon, Yeosang has been there for you almost your whole life.

When all you had was your brother to lean on, there was also pretty and quiet Yeosang with his gentle nature and short but meaningful words by your side.

"I'll keep working on his case though, I'm not letting it go that easily." Those words hit a nerve inside your brain and you bite your lip.

"I don't think you should." You express quietly, avoiding his questioning gaze.

"Yeosang, whoever the people that did this to him are, they're dangerous. They have connections and they obviously have the power, snooping around could put you in danger." You disclose, shifting uneasily under his hard stare but it had to be said, "I don't want for something to happen to you. And Jongho wouldn't want that either."

"So, what? We should all just let him rot in jail?" Yeosang questions, cheeks heating up in anger as his eyes shift into a glare towards you.

"I'm not saying that-"

"Then what exactly are you saying, Y/N? Because he's not getting out any other way." He utters before declaring; "Just because you gave up on him, doesn't mean I have to as well."

The harsh words make you flinch, reminding you of the night you found out Jongho was taken to custody and everything you said to him.

The only time you've ever given up on your brother were the ten minutes between speaking to him for the first time in jail and before speaking to Yeosang afterwards and for the last year and then some, you've been trying to repent for the words you've said to him that night.

Yeosang's way of getting Jongho out includes legalities, courthouses, attorneys, re-listening over and over again to people calling your brother a murderer and in the end losing because you're up against bigger fish. You've given up on that.

Jongho is getting out, Yeosang, just not your way but mine.

The cold air nipped at the skin of your cheeks as you inconspicuously made your way across the gravel towards the wired fence surrounding the yard.

As the days go by, you're starting to learn the routine of the correction officer's occupying the guards room near the yard so by now, you had the gist of when it was safe to walk closer to the fence without anyone seeing you.

Anyone but the inmates themselves that is but so far, apart from a couple of catcalls and whistles, they didn't seem top pay much attention to you.

Your brother would wait by the same corner every morning, back turned to you until he heard your footsteps, this morning was no different except this time; Jongho wasn't alone.

"Gentlemen." You give them a sarcastic greeting, eyes stuck on the back of his cellmate who you have yet to exchange a single word with.

"Hey." Jongho nods at you with squinted eyes and when he notices your eyes on his new 'friend', this Coin guy, he nudges him with his elbow.

The guy turns around and you gauge his face properly for the first time.

He's taller than Jongho with messy hair hidden under a beanie, sharp eyes and plump lips that were currently twisted in a scowl as he glances back at you. "Hey."

His voice is deeper than you expected.

"I'm Y/N."

"Yeah, I know." He leans on the fence with one shoulder, eyes always on lookout towards the yard. "Coin."

"Your real name." You tell him, skipping formalities and Jongho glances between the two of you, already opening his mouth to reprimand you most likely. You're quicker, not backing down. "I don't deal with stupid nicknames, your real name."

Coin glances back at you, annoyance evident in his eyes before he looks towards Jongho and returns his gaze back to the yard, sighing with an eye roll. "Song Mingi."

You let out a breath of relief, making sure to remember it while Jongho mumbles something about finally knowing his real name.

"How are you doing? With the digging?" You mutter, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you try to inch closer to the two of them without anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary.

"I can't get through the wall leading to the tunnels." Jongho mutters back, foot kicking at the grass below him. You frown, glancing over your shoulder to check if the door to the guards room is still closed shut.

"What do you mean? I told you how to do it-"

"No, I know how to do it but I just don't have the time." Your frown only grows. They're locked up, in your books, all they have is time.

His cellmate, Mingi notices your confusion and he answers your unspoken question; "Count."

Your brows raise at that as you glance at Jongho, who only nods in agreement.

"Constantly coming back up for count won't let me do what I need to do to break through that wall." Your brother voices out.

"You don't understand, I planned this on a schedule." You explain to them as quietly as you can, worry displayed on your features, "You have as much time as I'm here which is a month, two at most if I drag it out but it's less likely because my boss will pull me out of here as fast as she can. If you're not through that wall by the end of the week, we'll be behind on schedule and that means you're not getting out of here."

Both of them stay silent, glancing at each other before their eyes fall down to the grass with no obvious ideas of a solution.

You sigh in frustration, already sensing a bigger problem surging up from all of this. "Is there a way to stop count from happening?"

Mingi looks at you like you've lost your mind. "There are three things certain in life; death, taxes and count."

You pursue your lips, looking over your shoulder to check the guards room all while working your brain for a possible solution.

"Well, actually..." Mingi starts again after a moment of contemplation and both you and Jongho swiftly turn your heads to him in anticipation, "The only way to stop count is...."

He trails off, looking over his shoulder. The two of them were huddled by the furthest corner of the fence, the rest of the inmates too busy either playing basketball or working out.

Mingi shakes his head, "Never mind, it's a bad idea."

Jongho cocks an eyebrow, "Worse than the idea of losing Jiyeon to your cousin?"

Mingi gives him a sharp glare which seems rather intimidating but if Jongho says it so freely than you think it's safe to say that Mingi is all talk and no action, he's rather harmless.

He presses his lips, turning to you with a sober expression on his face; "Lockdown. We get Gen Pop locked for a day and he'll have all the time he needs, there's no count, the CO's don't even come around."

Your eyes light up at the genuinely good idea, half thrilled at the solution and the other half at the fact that this Song Mingi guy has half the brain to come up with excellent ideas after all.

Your brother wasn't stuck with someone completely daft at least.

"Okay." You nod, hope filling you up to the brim. You glance between them, "How do you get a lockdown?"

Jongho turns to Mingi again who seems to be deep in thought as he fiddles with the beanie on his head. He straightens out after a moment.

"Can you get to the prison's heating system unit?" He asks you and you take a quick moment to think, trying to picture the blueprints in your head.

"Maybe."

"You want to get a lockdown?" Mingi glances over his shoulder before huddling closer to the two of you, "You'd better get the inmates riled up. And if you wanna piss of the meat in concrete, turn up the heat."

Your eyes sparkle, Song Mingi will most definitely be useful. "Got it."

"Y/N, you better be fucking careful." Jongho murmurs but you're already stepping away from the fence.

"Don't worry." Is all you tell him and with one last rushed smile, you start heading back inside the building where your office is located.

You carefully glue a piece of wood to the beautiful model in front of you, the warden is quietly working next to you as well, gently touching it like it's about to crumble under his calloused fingertips.

"You know, my wife and I didn't have kids but if we did, I think I'd wish for them to be something like you." His confession takes you by surprise as your head turns to him sitting on the uncomfortable chair next to you.

Well, he's about fifteen years too late for that, where was he when you and Jongho were getting moved from one foster home to another?

Still, the confession makes you chuckle softly, cheeks warming up although the guilt you feel is already unbearable. You didn't expect to spend any time with this man.

And the warden, you have to admit, was a nice man. A good man.

You can't really say you could imagine him as your father because you still have memories of your real father and none of them are good but...maybe a grandfather.

"That came out of nowhere, forgive me but I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate you helping me with this." He chuckles, holding another piece to the model and keeping his hand there to make sure it stays intact. "And I know it must be awfully hard to know your brother is so close yet you can barely speak to him. I backed into some information about you, how he is your only family left."

You swallow, a hand that was holding the tiny wooden pieces falling into your lap as you turn to him, not awfully fond of speaking about this to anyone in this place.

It means opening up and opening up meant getting attached.

And you can't get attached to anyone here. Not when you're knowingly using them.

The warden must take your silence for something else because he continues with a deep sigh, "What I'm trying to say is that I've seen you speaking to him through the fence and...in a way, I'm deciding to turn a blind eye to it."

Your lips part at that, blood rushing to your face at the thought of getting caught.

"Partly because Jongho is well behaved in there. He's only had one misconduct and that was when he first was brought it and partly, it's because, as I said, I can't imagine what it must feel like to see your brother in a place like this..."

Your eyes burn, half from the pure gratefulness and half from complete and utter guilt that weighs you down.

The warden is a good man. And all you've done so far is feed him lies with a deceiving smile on your face that leaves him blind to your true selfishness.

"Thank you." You whisper, in complete honesty with a smile, fingers playing with the small pieces of wood in your lap.

"Don't mention it." The warden shakes his head, he hesitates for a moment with his eyes set on the model in front of him before; "I followed his trial closely and my personal opinion is that he was just a man that found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time..."

You almost gasp at that, shocked that he'd actually say it out loud. Many people might share his opinion or not but they're not allowed to discuss it.

"But my jurisdiction doesn't go beyond the walls of this compound, so I'll do my best to make sure he's treated fairly at least in here."

There's the guilt again.

You shove it down, simply murmuring another 'thank you' in the sincerest possible way you can muster up before going back to work.

Your eyes follow Doctor Jung as he moves across the room, carrying with himself a tray with the insulin shot and your mouth can't help but perk up when he catches your eyes and looks at you in question, biting back a smile of his own.

This game you play with him is starting to become a bit too fun.

"What?" He asks as his brows furrow as though he wants to whine but refrains himself from doing so, eyes focused on preparing your shot as you roll the sleeve of your shirt up. You chuckle lightly.

You already poured the corrosive down the grate for today, you can relax for at least this once around him.

"You wear glasses." You comment simply, eyeing the thick black frames sitting at the bridge of his nose. He glances at you, lips still pressed together, still trying to hold back a smile, as he takes your arm and runs a damp cotton ball over it.

"My eyes were too irritated for contacts this morning." He shrugs with practiced ease but you notice a little shyness to his expression, as if he's embarrassed of his glasses.

He shouldn't be. They look good on him.

"Long night?" You ask with playful eyes and he hums in question, eyes trained on the needle sinking into your skin, "Irritated eyes. Were you up doing something til the late hours."

The insinuation hangs heavy in the air and he stays quiet, as he pulls the needle out.

"If by long night you mean laying on my couch with a box of Chinese food watching re-runs of Friends, then yeah, I had a blast." He answers with a sheepish smile, glancing up at you as he presses a clean cotton ball to your hand which you hold instead of him, your fingers brushing in the process.

You hum, teasingly cocking an eyebrow, "So, no girlfriend?"

His eyes catch yours again and for the first time, he looks like you're close to driving him over the edge as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

Wooyoung shakes his head, lips pulling in a smirk as he almost returns your flirtation, "No, no girlfriend."

You don't expect a guy like him to be single. Even though it goes in your favor, still, it's a bit surprising.

He seemed like the type who got along with women amazingly, you didn't hear much differently from others.

But Jung Wooyoung seems awfully shy in your presence. Always slightly avoiding your eyes before a great moment of braveness and then an immediate retreat back to his shell.

He just doesn't fit the profile of the serial womanizer and party animal you've been told about when you tried to ask around about him to your old college friends.

So, either Jung Wooyoung is one heck of an actor and all of this was a performance to get into your pants (and you'd be a hypocrite to judge him for it) or you made him shy.

And if it was the latter, well, it's fucking adorable.

You only nod in response as you roll the sleeve of your shirt down, glancing at the grate to your right and feeling the empty tubes in the pockets of the coat digging into your back as it hangs over the chair you're sitting on.

Just a little bit more, and you'll be able to break through the water pipe below the grate.

"You?" Wooyoung's voice brings you back to reality and you turn to him in question as you're too caught up in your own agendas to keep up with the conversation. He sighs, albeit a little embarrassed before he jokingly asks; "Do we have any admirers?"

"Me?" You ask, innocently pointing to yourself before nodding, "Oh, yeah. I have six of them. Currently looking for a seventh so I can have one for each day of the week."

"Ah." His brows raise, a smile threatening to appear as he's obviously catching onto the fact that you're bullshitting him, "You have your hands full, then."

"I manage." You shrug keeping up the act for a couple of seconds more before letting out a chuckle which he joins into, "No, I didn't really have time for any of that in the last year or so."

He cocks his head to the side, observing you with a small smirk, "Career woman, huh?"

You chuckle bitterly because he truly has no idea.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Your eye contact lasts longer than necessary and you snap yourself out of it, noticing that you've been just sitting and talking to him for a long moment after the shot was done and sleeve was down.

You clear your throat, breaking the eye contact and standing up from the chair.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Same place, same time." He smiles and it causes these pretty little indents to appear on his cheeks that do something ridiculous to your chest.

"Right." You nod, bidding him another smile and you're out the door.

You fix the mirror in front of you to align with the mirror behind you hanging from the door of the old closet in your office, your shirt unbuttoned and hanging off of one shoulder as you adjust the mirror so you can see the tattoos on your back.

When you locate the lines that are supposed to represent where the heating system runs through the compound, you carefully trace them with your eyes down to the one common square where they all connect on your lower back.

With a nod to yourself, you quickly get dressed, close the closet shut and make your way to the staff bathrooms on the first floor, right next to the infirmary.

Getting near the prison's heating system doesn't present itself as much of a problem, all you do is kick open the grate leading to the air vents in the locked bathroom stall and crawl up by climbing onto the toilet seat.

The heating room isn't much further away, you crawl through the vents until you reach where it's supposed to be and after stilling for a moment to check if it was empty, you lift up the grate and carefully slink down until your feet touch the dirty floors.

The room is stuffy and dark but it's empty, not a soul besides the scarily looking furnace in the middle of the room. You approach it with caution and check the thermostat located on the pipes near it.

Before reaching out and cranking the temperature to the highest possible setting.

With hurried movements, you carefully climb back up the air vent using a rusty shelf for extra boost and return the same way you got in.

Once you're back in your office, slightly sweaty from all the exercise, you can't help but smile lightly at the intense rise in temperature already that you have to crank open the window in your office to make a little bit of a breeze.

If it must be this hot already in here, then you can't imagine what it must be like in the cells.

"Alright that's it, lockdown! Everyone back to your cells!" Jongho's head picks up at the voice yelling from down below amongst the ruckus and shouts of the agitated inmates. They've been going at it for the last hour, calling out for some AC until one of them snapped and started causing trouble with the correction officers which inevitably made a dozen of them act up as a result, "I said everyone back to your cells! Now convicts! Lockdown!"

Jongho's eyes light up in relief, he was sweating buckets because of your little trick but it just might be worth it.

"Damn, your sister really turned that furnace up." Mingi mutters from the top bunk, sweat gliding down his brow as he jumps down the bed and watches the cell door glide shut as the yelling outside continues. "Well, you got your lockdown bro, do your thing."

Jongho shakes his head, "You're coming with me."

"What?!" Mingi's head whips back from where he was fixing the sheet up to protect their cell from the outer view. "No, no, no. I'm the lookout man, that's it."

"It's a two man job, I need your help to kick down the bricks." He explains to his doubtful cellmate, already kneeling down and using the bolt which you told him to get from the benches in the yard to unscrew the fitting holding the small metal sink attached to the wall. "It'll be quick, then you can come back out."

Jongho moves the metal sink to the side and the hole which he broke through a day ago is revealed and he slinks through it with Mingi cautiously following behind him before pulling the sink back in it's place from the outside, to cover the hole in the wall.

Mingi gasps in wonder at the small tunnel they find themselves in, darkness surrounding them from all sides.

"How do you know which side we're supposed to go?" He whispers to Jongho who is already moving through the darkness with practiced ease.

"Y/N told me." He simply responds, never questioning his sister's directions. "After we break through this wall we'll be connected to the main tunnel and have all the access we need."

"And then what?" Mingi asks, following behind him careful not to trip up on any of the rubble beneath his feet.

"And then...we wait for what Y/N tells us to do next." Jongho says reaching the main wall where he was already picking apart the mort on the bricks.

"You really trust her? That she can pull this off?" Mingi asks after a moment of silence, already joining Jongho's side to pick at the bricks with a nail he found on the ground.

Mingi's obvious distrust in his sister made Jongho angry.

Maybe he didn't think you were competend because you were related to him and to be fair, Jongho was in prison. But you two couldn't be more different.

Where Jongho only excelled in sports and woodshop (when the teachers didn't piss him off), you were amazing at everything. Math and physics being a highlight in your academic records, a structural engineer later on as a career.

That wouldn't mean much to a stranger. Nowadays, anyone could graduate college.

But Jongho knew you. And he knew just how smart and resourceful you could get with just about anything, especially if you put all of yourself in. Which with this project in particular, he could tell you have.

Jongho turns to him with a serious expression. "I trust her with my life."

Mingi gives a doubtful shake of head, muttering while he punches through the wall, "You're trusting her with my life as well."

The bricks slowly start to give out.

You stare at the devil's face which you traced from the side of your arm onto a piece of paper, folding it and gliding it in the pocket of your jeans, making sure everything you need is tucked into the back of your jeans before you walk down to the entrance of the building, nodding at the officers standing by the front door and make way to the sick bay located near B-building.

The sick bay is filled to the brim with inmates suffering from heat exhaustion. Wooyoung is working in a rush, tending to each new patient that they bring in with his face pinched in concentration, not even noticing you passing by.

Which is good. Logistically, you have no business being in the sick bay but it was the only building connected by underground tunnels to A-building where your brother's cell was and the chaos of the self-induced heatwave was a perfect opportunity to slink through the building and to the storage room with an air vent unnoticed.

Finding the tunnel that lead to the cells in building A was harder than you thought, the sounds of the riot above didn't exactly help with the tension you were feeling inside.

It took a lot of wrong turns and roaming in the dark damp tunnels with a flashlight in your hand as your only source of light before you heard a loud thump somewhere to your left followed by what sounded like bricks and gravel falling to the ground.

Cautiously, you stepped around the corner with your heart stuck in your throat, not knowing what you will walk into before you breathe in a sigh of relief when you spot two familiar heads peering through the gap in the wall, surrounded by rubble.

"Thank fuck." You mutter, slightly jogging towards them as Mingi kicks at the lower part of the wall again to make way for them to get through.

They seem bamboozled to see you there.

"How in the hell did you-" Jongho starts but you quickly interrupt him, the chaos from above making you on edge.

"We don't have time, come on!" You tell them, already moving back down the dark tunnel, the dust accompanied by pure stress making you feel choked up.

You can hear their footsteps, quietly following after you as you lead them to a bare wall that you place your palm on.

You start walking backwards, recounting your steps and then stop, rolling up your sleeve and flashing the light over it so you can look at the tattoo and make sure your calculations are correct.

Placing your arm against the wall, you mark a dot on it.

"This is it." You voice out, remembering the wall from the blueprints, you turn to face Jongho and Mingi who hang onto your every word; "Somewhere on the other side of this wall is a drainage pipe to the prison's old sewer system. If you can get through this wall, you can get into the pipe. If you can get into the pipe you can get into the infirmary. If you can get into the infirmary, you can get out of here."

They look like they have more questions but obviously decide that this isn't the time nor place. They seem slightly impressed, maybe even a little giddy as they smile at each other, Jongho steps closer to the wall as he runs a hand over it.

"That's one big pile of concrete." He whistles, turning to you, "How do you know where the pipe is?"

You shuffle a couple of steps away from them, propping a light against a couple of leftover bricks sitting by the side of the other wall and place the small paper you've tucked into the pocket of your jeans against the head of the light.

"We've got someone to show us where it is." You answer, pulling out a small piece of duck tape from your pockets and making sure the paper sticks to the flashlight.

"Oh, really?" Mingi asks, albeit a little sarcastically as he crosses his arms over his chest, "Who?"

You turn the light on, immediately facing the wall and smiling in relief as the image on the paper is projected onto the concrete wall.

Jongho and Mingi follow your gaze, the latter jumping a bit once he comes face to face with the devil from your tattoo staring back at him, reflected onto the wall.

Mingi does a quick sign of the cross across his chest.

"Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Mingi exclaims, inching further away from the caricature. You would've found it funny if your mind wasn't preoccupied with the current task at hand.

Just as you open your mouth to tell them the plan and loud screech from above interrupts you and all three of your heads snap up towards the ceiling above you.

The screech isn't what worries you (maybe it should but you digress), it's the fact that it didn't sound dulled enough for it to come from the prison cells. No, this screech was a bit too apparent.

Almost like it came from the place connecting the cells with the tunnel.

You glance at Jongho with worry to find him already looking at you.

"I'll go check what that was." He says quietly and you open your mouth to stop him, scared for him to be leaving you. He doesn't let you get a word out, "Y/N, don't worry. Stay here with Mingi and tell him what to do, I'll come back."

You glance at Mingi who stays quiet by your side giving you a nod before you turn to Jongho with a somber expression. "Be careful."

He nods with a small chuckle, "Always."

And he turns around and disappears behind the corner.

Jongho crouches down to get through the fresh hole in the wall and as quietly as he can before walking down the tunnel and heading over to the hole covered by the metal sink which leads to his cell.

He carefully places his ear against the surface, a frown growing on his face when he hears footsteps up and down the cell.

His heartbeat immediately spikes up, fear of someone finding the hole in the wall turning into anger at the potential problem if someone else were to find out about your plan.

With one quick mustered breath, he shoves the sink away and as fast as he can, crawls through the whole to grab whoever it is on the other side by surprise.

"Relax! It's me!" A familiar voice chokes out as Jongho already managed to have his hands wrapped around the collar of the sweatshirt. He blinks at Kim Hongjoong's face in confusion, eyes falling to the drawn up sheet covering the, now, opened door.

"What the hell is going on?" He releases Hongjoong, walking towards the opened cell door to peak outside, just to see the inmates going positively ballistic on both floors.

"All hell broke loose." Hongjoong explains, standing in front of the sink that was moved to the side, "When they called for lockdown, about twenty cons didn't back down so they locked the cells while they were still out. They scared away the CO's and got ahold of the keys to the station, unlocked the rest of the cells from there."

Jongho sucks in a sharp breath, observing the pure and utter chaos happening outside. Screaming, fighting, maniacal laughter echoing from the walls. Not even the wildest of animals behaved like this.

"I saw your cell empty when I was passing by and put two and two together. Can't really disappear into thin air from a locked cell so I figured, I'd keep watch." Jongho turns to the older man who shrugs when their eyes meet, "I wanna get out of here just as much as you do and apparently, you're my golden ticket out of this shithole and I can't have anyone catching you, Choi."

Jongho stays quiet, the noises overwhelming him along with the fact that he most definitely did not trust Kim Hongjoong. The man was a flight risk, he could put all of you in danger.

"So, this is it, huh?" Hongjoong asks, staring down the hole with his hands tucked deep inside his pockets. Jongho notes that the older man looks like he just discovered a gold mine.

"Yeah." Jongho brushes past him and pushes the sink back the way it was, concealing it from the outside world. He can't risk going back there today, Mingi will have to do the job and Jongho will keep watch. "This is it."

"What is the plan, exactly?" Hongjoong questions, leaning back against Jongho's bunk bed with his arms crossed.

Jongho glances over his shoulders to check if there's anyone loitering around his cell but he's relieved to see everyone is more occupied with either going batshit crazy or sticking to their own cells to not get hurt or killed.

"Coin is down there, drilling a hole into the wall separating us from the pipe leading to the prison's old sewer system." Jongho explains to his best ability, hoping he got the order of the words right.

You were always the smart one out of the two of you, he was just the muscle.

"Alone?" Hongjoong cocks a brow in curiosity, although Jongho has a feeling that the older man already knows he's not alone.

"No. Not alone." He says through gritted teeth, sending the man a glare.

"Who's with him?" Hongjoong doesn't intend on backing away as he tilts his head at him.

Jongho sighs, giving away the fact that you're down there seems like such a bad idea. Kim Hongjoong was dangerous and Jongho really didn't want you anywhere near him. In fact, he would feel much more at ease if Kim didn't even know you existed.

"The person who planned all of this." He reveals with a shrug, eyes trained on the wall behind Hongjoong's back as he slowly sinks to sit on the floor.

"You mean that girl?" Jongho freezes at that, eyes snapping towards Hongjoong's face that now sports a smug smirk, "The one that visits you in the yard each morning."

Jongho stays quiet, deciding to not comment on anything but just keep staring at the wall with his jaw clenched.

"At first, I thought it was a bit of a reach," The older man continues in faked thoughtfulness "I was like, 'there's no way she'd be brave enough to pull something like this' but then I remembered that it all started from the moment the construction work started back up again and their new pretty supervisor stepped inside these walls."

"Shut up." Jongho interrupts, his temper starting to get tested as he glares at the older man, "We made a deal, you and I, so respect that and don't talk about her. At all."

Hongjoong holds his hand out in faux innocence, not being able to bite back a grin before dropping his hands.

"I'm just saying, whoever she is to you, she cares about you a lot if she's willing to go through all of this just to get you out."

Jongho pretends like he doesn't hear him.

It's been awhile since Jongho left you alone with Mingi and your nerves are starting to become visible the more it takes for him to return. What if something happens to him up there? You know it's a lock down but so many things could go wrong in matter of seconds in a place like this.

Mingi sighs next to you, obviously sensing your concern; "Let Jongho worry about the noise, he can handle himself. You worry about how you are gonna drill through a six inch concrete wall with what used to be an eggbeater."

You glance down to the modified eggbeater you snuck inside your bag this morning and carried through the tunnels tucked at the back of the waistband of your jeans. "Ever hear of tensile strength? Hooke's law of elasticity?" You ask him, deeming the object in your hand now sharp enough to use as a drill. Mingi gives you a bland look from where he stands, leaning against the wall with the devil caricature splayed over him, "What do you think?" You sigh, turning to him. "If we drill holes in strategic locations, we compromise the load carrying capacity of the wall."

Mingi turns to you like you just spoke in French, "How about speaking in normal people words?" You roll your eyes. "We'll be able to break through the wall." Mingi eyes you stepping closer to the wall in curiosity, taking a stand right next to you as you point at the image of the devil's face on the wall. "We go in through the tip of each horn, the eyes, the end of the nose, the bottom of the fangs, end of the braids, makes a sort of X." You explain, handing the eggbeater to him. "Let's get to it."

Mingi gives you a reluctant sigh before getting to work, placing the tip of the eggbeater to the concrete wall.

He works in silence for the next ten minutes, you keep glancing towards the direction of the tunnel where Jongho disappeared off to as your foot keeps tapping the floor from the nerves.

After another minute, Mingi speaks again being much more talkative than you expected from when you first meet him. The morning before, that is.

"I got a question for you." You turn to him from where you leaned on the opposite wall and watched him work, "What if you do all this work and the pipe turns out to be 10 feet the other way?" "It won't." You shake your head. The confidence in your voices makes Mingi look over his shoulder at you with a scowl, "What, you got x-ray vision?" You sigh again (it's all you seem to be doing in his presence), glancing to see if there are any signs of Jongho coming back before stepping closer to where Mingi was working, "I calculated the drill point co-ordinates, hid them in my tattoo and projected them onto the wall. Everything's been worked out so the image hits the right point of the wall. It's just math."

"Okay, nerd. What if your math is wrong?" Mingi questions without missing a beat, not even taking his eyes away from where he was drilling. You roll your eyes again, getting annoyed by his questions and you bluntly reply; "You'll drill into one of the dozen gas lines behind the wall. There'll be an explosion and we'll be burnt alive." Mingi's hand slows down until it rests to a full stop as he gives you a careful glance; "But you're good at math right?"

Your mouth perks up in amusement but you refrain from answering and just nod to the wall. "Keep drilling."

With another sigh, Mingi goes back to work and you glance at the watch on your wrist.

"Hey, I need to go back." You tell him, attention on the direction where Jongho disappeared off to. Mingi turns to you in question. "I need to get out of here if it's a lockdown, it means all the staff will be together if the CO's won't come around."

He pursues his lips, attention focused on the wall. "Yeah, okay."

You hesitate, "Do you know what to do?"

"I'm not stupid, Y/N." He scoffs, glancing at you, "Keep drilling at the horns, eyes, tip of the nose and so on. Form an X. Go."

Your eyes stay stuck on the tunnel, hoping Jongho would finally come through just for a second. Just for you to know that everything is okay. You feel your heart clench in anguish.

"Hey," Mingi brings you back to reality and you turn to him, "He's fine. He was here for over a year before you showed up, it's not his first rodeo. Go."

After a moment of contemplation, you nod and glance one last time towards the tunnel before turning around and disappearing down the other end.

It's deadly silent on the first floor of the building where the sick bay is when you step out of the storage room whose air vent you just dropped out of.

You quietly close the door shut behind yourself, feeling a chill of unease run up your spine at the deserted floor that was busking with people when you first walked in.

At first, you think they evacuated all staff but Jongho and Mingi would've mentioned that as a procedure during lockdown.

You walk down the empty halls of the building's left wing, trying to figure out where everyone is with your defenses so high up that the crunch below your feet makes you jump a step back as your eyes fall to the floor.

It's glass...broken glass.

Well, that can't be good.

Your head turns to the side where the commercial wood door is located, looks like it's glass lite was punched through with something. You feel your heart pound in your chest and without further thinking you pull the sleeve of your shirt to cover your palm before grabbing a large piece of glass that looked sharp enough to be used as a weapon if needed.

Quietly, you continue heading down the hallway, remembering a spare exist located on the first floor of each wing of the building.

Only you don't make it too far.

Shuffling to your right makes your head snap to the direction in surprise and you come face to face with an unknown man standing a couple of feet away from you.

Your heart drops when you notice the dark blue pants and a grey sweatshirt, a trademark for inmate fashion at Chungju's Detention Center but also, the pair of cuffs hanging from his left hand. His face twists in a nasty grin at the sight of you and that's when you knew; you needed to get the fuck out of there.

You don't even think twice about it as you start running up the staircase, having no idea where it leads or who is up there but it's the last thing you think about when you hear footsteps behind you.

"Hey! The pretty bitch is here!" You hear a deep voice yell behind you and your heartrate spikes as your legs carry you as fast as they can up the staircase.

Once you near the top, you glance down both corridors to your left and right before noticing bar doors on the entrance of one of them, feeling a dozen of footsteps enclosing in on you. Swiftly, you run down the corridor and through the bar doors before slamming them shut and locking them with the pair of keys stuffed into the lock on the other side of them.

Just as you're about to pull the keys out, a hand reaches through the bars and grabs you by the hair, slamming your head twice against the bars on the door which makes you cry out in pain.

"There you are." The inmate breathes heavily as he holds you against the bars, hot breath heavy against the skin of your cheek as you struggle against him and you know he's muttering things in your ear that you even refuse to acknowledge, too busy blinking through the pain in your head that leaves you disoriented for a second before you fling the keys out of the lock and sent them gliding down the corridor as you sink in the piece of glass you held in your other hand into the man's shoulder so hard that it pierces through your shirt and into your own hand.

He screams loudly, losing his grip on you and with a pained grunt you rip yourself away from him, eyes growing wide as you see a dozen of inmates surrounding the bar door and rattling them, all yelling at you, mockeries, catcalls accompanied by a bunch of other adjectives you'd rather not repeat.

A noise you're not even aware that you make escapes you of out of the pure fear and panic as you start running down the corridor, checking each room just to see that they're all empty.

Noticing camera monitors stacked up on a desk in one of the small offices, you immediately run into the room and slam the door shut, locking it with the emergency lock before dragging the bookshelf that was in the room to rest it against the door.

You look around, trying to find something to wrap around your bleeding hand before pulling out a kitchen towel that someone must've left after lunch on the desk and wrapping it tightly around your palm.

You can barely catch your breath, your hair flowing down your shoulders as it must of come lose when the inmate grabbed you by your ponytail, as you come closer to the monitors for the security cameras heart dropping at the sight that greets you.

The left wing, you can recognize the halls where you entered from the storage room, is seemingly empty. But the right wing, where the sick bay is, is in shambles, convicts are running down the halls as they please, breaking stuff and rummaging through the medicine cabinets. There are smashed doors and windows everywhere but what almost knocks the air out of your lungs is the monitor in the left corner.

It's one of the rooms in the sick bay surrounded by glass windows from all sides leaving it completely vulnerable as inmates bang against the bulletproof glass like animals trying to break it and in the middle of it, banging against the window connected to the outside is Wooyoung.

By the looks of it, the glass won't last for much longer. You can already see that they managed to break through a small hole on one of them. You glance through the window from the small office noticing officials armed to the teeth waiting outside...yet no-one was coming in.

He'll be killed if you don't do something. You have to get him out of there.

You glance at the air vent above your head and without further contemplation, drag the desk with the monitors under it before climbing on top and kicking the vent open. With a grunt, you pull yourself up inside the vent and start crawling in the direction where you've memorized the sick bay to be.

It's a maze of small tunnels but when you catch sight of a portion of it turning into a slide, you guess it leads to the lower levels and as gently as you can, you remove the screen and slide down with the help of the pipes running down it, careful to not make too much noise.

You're sure you're above the first level now, the first indicator being that the noise volume is much higher. You can hear the yells and you slow down your breathing as you near one of the grates to peer down.

You can see some of the inmates running around and you crouch lower to see the familiar glass windows that they're all banging against. Bingo.

Carefully, you crawl through the vent in front of you and stop by the grate before peering down. Your breath hitches when the top of Wooyoung's head greets you. He's stomping over a book that was lit on fire and you assume they threw it in through the hole in the window, trying to smoke him out.

As quick as you can, you work on opening the grate, pulling on it as hard as you can until it pops open and you push the lid to the side before lowering your head and a hand down and holding on to a pipe behind you with the other hand for stability.

Once your head is dipped inside is when you realize just how terrified Wooyoung must feel. The inmates screams are loud enough to pierce an eardrum, the banging and smashing against the glass enough to rattle anyone. The room is starting to get filled with smoke, obstructing your vision.

And the new side of you, unusually protective over him, feels like she'll do anything to get him out of there.

"Hey! Hey!" You yell trying to wave to Wooyoung, who fails to hear you as he's more focused on putting out the fire by covering the smoke with an empty garbage can. "Wooyoung!"

His head snaps up at that and his eyes grow wide in recognition when he sees you, immediately running to stand below the vent.

"Come on!" You hold your hand out but not before pointing to the small table pushed near the window, "Drag that over and climb up on it! Come on!"

Wooyoung hesitates but only for a second before he's jumping on the task and quickly pushing the table towards the vent before climbing on top of it.

His fingers wrap around the opening of the vent and you pull him up to your best ability until he's able to hang by his elbows and pull himself up the rest of the way through the opening, crawling up to plop himself down on the pipes next to you, heaving for air as you pull the grate back over the opening of the vent.

You both lean back against the pipes behind your backs, breathing heavily as the yelling from below is heard until he finally breaks the silence.

"What the fuck is going on?" He whispers, still out of breath as his head turns to you. He discarded his white coat and was just in plain scrubs now.

You close your eyes, still leaning your head against the pipes before they flutter open again, "All hell broke loose."

You know there's no time to waste so you get back to crouching on your feet, turning to Wooyoung, "See these pipes? We're going to stay on them. They go through the wall and over the hallway and they're going to get us out of here. All you have to do is follow me. Okay?"

Wooyoung still looks positively shaken but is trying to calm down. He nods. "Yeah."

As quietly as you can, the two of you start crawling on top of the pipes with you taking the lead careful to not make too much noise to alert the inmates roaming below you.

It works for a good couple of minutes before you start hearing Wooyoung getting slightly breathless behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to him.

"Are you alright?" You ask him softly and he picks his head up, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"I'm okay....I'm fine." He breathes out and you hesitate for a moment before deciding it's for the best to keep moving.

So you do. You move a couple of feet down the pipes before you hear Wooyoung again.

"You know what, I need a minute. I'm sorry." Wooyoung says, the words rushing out as he sits on the pipes and runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and probably trying to calm himself down.

"It's not much further." You try to reassure him, thinking that the mention of safety will bring some comfort to him and stop himself from driving into a panic attack.

"Just a second, please." He breaths out, swallowing loudly as he looks around the dark vent.

"Okay, we can stop if you want. Catch our breaths." You nod in understanding, sitting down on the pipes as well and hoping he won't think that you're bothered by the sudden break.

He glances at you, remaining quiet before eventually nodding, "Okay, yeah. I could use a minute."

A long silent moment passes between the two of you. You can hear footsteps accompanied by yells running up and down the halls below the two of you.

"Things should be winding down around now. Pretty soon, the police will break in and it will all be over. It's just a matter of time." You voice out, deep in thought as you stared through the vent right in front of you where you could see the grey tiles of the floor.

"How the hell did this happen?" Wooyoung questions, hand gripping the pipe running at the side of the small airway tunnel.

You pause, knowing exactly how it happened; "I don't know. But...I think if we stay up here we'll be okay."

"I can't believe this shit." He mutters, inching closer to you to peer down through the same grate of the vent.

You both fall into a silence, you can feel that he's still shaken up. Heck, so are you but him being here managed to distract you.

It's only fair if you return the favor.

"You ever been to Baja? Mexico?" Wooyoung looks at you like a second head just sprouted from your shoulder, you just keep talking in hopes of distracting him; "There's this great place down there. Twenty bucks a night. Hammock on the back deck. Beers are fifty cents. Twenty five cents at happy hour."

He smiles at you lightly and it causes a smile of your own to appear. You sniffle,

"You ever been to Thailand? Thailand's great." You comment with a sigh and he snorts from beside you.

"Y/N, if you're trying to calm me down, you're doing a terrible job." Wooyoung comments but it's with a smile on his face which makes you giggle.

"But I am trying."

The two of you fall into light chuckles that dissipates into the air quickly.

"Why are you here?" He asks quietly, smile fading as he turns to stare at you.

You look through the grate just so you wouldn't have to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Crawling around in the ceiling, risking your life."

"You needed help, and uh," You sniffle, looking the other way so he couldn't see your face, "I came to find you."

What was that about getting attached, Y/N?

If Wooyoung is surprised by your admission, he doesn't show it instead his brows furrow, "How'd you know where to go?"

You still at that, vision trained on the pipes running across the wall opposite of you. "I, uh, was hiding in a station that the CO's left empty and saw you on one of the monitors." You spare him a glance, hoping he doesn't notice the way your eyes shake when you lie, "I saw the blueprints for the whole compound when I started supervising the new construction site, the ventilation system is ancient, I took a lot of time studying it because you don't see a system like that in buildings nowadays and so I was sort of familiar with the layout."

You flinch when you feel him brush a piece of hair out of your face, thumb gently gliding under your eyebrow. He whispers; "And how did this happen?"

You look at him in confusion but your lips soon part as you notice the blood on his thumb and you reach out with your own hand, only then noticing the blood sliding down your cheek from the gash on your eyebrow.

You gulp, avoiding his eyes, "When everything went off, I, uh, went to the first floor of the left wing and a couple of convicts spotted me." His eyes widen before roaming over the rest of your body and stopping on the badly bandaged hand laying on your lap, you chuckle trying to play it off as nothing. "I ran to the second floor but one of them banged me pretty hard against the bars on the door."

"Oh my God." He mutters, jaw locking as he seems to internally scold himself. For what, you can't know. "Are you okay? They didn't do anything else, did they-?"

"No. No." You quickly shake your head, uncharacteristically touched by the concern. "I'm fine."

Wooyoung stays quiet for a second and you sigh lowly, looking through the grate to see that there was still people running down below.

"Wait." Wooyoung speaks up again and his curious eyes make you face him again, "What were you doing in this building in the first place?"

You freeze at that.

Because truly and honestly, you don't even have a lie for that. You haven't prepared one not for your lack of effort, you just simply could not think of a single one.

Your trip to this building should've been a breeze. Just sneak your way to the storage room, crawl up the ceilings to where it connected with the A-building, show Jongho and Mingi the wall and return back, unnoticed. You weren't supposed to be met with a fucking riot in here when you returned.

You don't have a lie to tell him.

So the next best thing you can think of is; just act like you never even heard the question.

You turn away from him, crouching on your feet again, "We should keep moving."

After a quiet moment, you feel Wooyoung move after you again.

You crawl through the ceiling for a minute or so in silence before you glance at him again, "The door to the visitation room. Did you ever use it?"

"Not usually, but my access card should work." He replies, seemingly moved on from your avoidant mannerisms.

You nod, forgetting that he can't see you properly before turning around to respond to him. Instead, you freeze when you see someone lifting the vent screen and motion for Wooyoung to be quiet.

The convicts....they're looking for Wooyoung and now, undoubtedly, you as well.

In confusion, he follows your eyes and sees the back of someone's head poking through the opening.

Swiftly, Wooyoung moves over and kicks the guy in the head with his foot, making the inmate fall back down with a yell of pain before pulling the screen back on as more ruckus explodes from below, banging against the ceiling intensifies as do the mocking yells and taunts of the convicts that are hunting you down.

"Come on, let's go." You declare in a rush as you both continue to crawl up the space.

You don't how long you move but you come in front of an opening where you can see the prisoners who have been stubbornly on your tails, looking around for the two of you.

Once the prisoners pass through, you two find yourselves peering down into the room for a short moment, making sure it's empty.

"All right." Wooyoung sighs, getting down first from the vent, carefully standing on top of a bookcase before jumping to the ground. He holds his arms out, to help you get down.

With a shaky breath, you follow after him, standing on top of the bookcase and looking at the distance towards the floor in slight anxiety. "O-Okay."

"Here," Wooyoung nods reassuringly with wide eyes, arms still held out below you, "I got you."

You place your hands on his arms for at least some type of leverage before sucking in a breath and leaping down, your body slowly thudding against his as his arms enclose around you with a low grunt.

His nose brushes your jawline as he lowers you down to the floor, in one piece.

You pull away from him and your gazes meet for one solid moment before you pull yourself away, reminding yourself that now is not the time nor the place to be sharing romantic moments with the man.

Suddenly,

"Hey Doc, you gonna keep her all to yourself?" Your heads snap towards the inmate standing in front of you two, staring at you specifically with a smirk that sends chills down your spine.

The moment he starts advancing towards you, Wooyoung surprises him with a fist to the nose and an arm around his neck to suffocate him and you're shoved into the wall as the two start to wrestle across the room. You can barely breathe.

Your fear only heightens when another inmate runs in to help his pal, trying to pry Wooyoung off of him but he doesn't notice you huddled in the corner.

You, on the other hand, notice his bandaged up leg and without even thinking about it, you run up behind him and wedge your foot as hard as you can into his injury three times as he wails in pain and falls to the floor, clutching onto his injury.

The prisoner in Wooyoung's hold finally gives out, passing out in his arms and falling to the ground.

On instinct, you latch onto Wooyoung's arm and start pulling him after you, "C'mon. This way."

You keep running down the hallways before Wooyoung pulls on your hand, brows stitched together in confusion, "This isn't the way for the visitations room."

"We can't make it through there, there's another exist here." You've seen the blueprints, you know!

He hesitates, "Y/N, if you're wrong...."

"Wooyoung, we don't have time!" You can hear footsteps and yells behind you and you turn to him in desperation, sweat dripping down your back, "Trust me."

Wooyoung stares at you before looking down both ends of the hall and then finally, giving in and following after you.

You run down the halls that are all starting to look a bit too similar but you know that there's an exit located somewhere near from the view outside the windows lining the walls. You pull Wooyoung through a small room that seems to be used a break room that, like the maze it is, leads to a storage room and finally...

"This is it." You say pointing to the door at the end of the room. You can see the grass through the glass on it as well as armed officers with their guns pointed towards it waiting on the other side.

The footsteps behind you appear to be coming nearer and nearer and you and Wooyoung share a look before you're running towards the door and flinging it open.

You immediately raise your hands up in the air, yelling "Don't shoot!"

All you can process is yelling until you realize that you're being pulled behind the line of fire and you and Wooyoung get separated as you get led away by unknown officers. They recognized you as staff members.

The entire outside space of the compound is surrounded by officers and even soldiers, cars and army trucks are pulled up nearby along with ambulance trucks.

"Wooyoung!" You hear a male voice call out as you're being led to one of those ambulance truck and your head turns to the direction it came from to see a familiar figure that Wooyoung runs to.

"Dad!" He yells back, collapsing into the older man's arms and you feel something in your chest ache.

You don't know if it's from seeing a person be comforted by a parent after a traumatic event as you've been abandoned by both. Or is it from seeing the governor, one of the main advocates for the highest possible sentence to be given to your innocent brother. Or maybe, it's simply from seeing Wooyoung be so vulnerable and small in someone's arms.

You don't know.

"Thank you." You tell the paramedic that just finished wrapping up your hand with a small smile and get a nod in return as he lets you have a moment to yourself, sitting in the back of the opened ambulance truck with a thin blanket wrapped around you.

Your fingers brush against the bandage on your brow, the wound all cleaned and covered now. It still doesn't make you feel any less sticky and gross.

You quietly watched as the officers advanced towards the buildings, you could hear shots fired inside and it all made you feel sick to your stomach.

"Hey." You hear a voice to your left and you look to see that Wooyoung has snuck in to sit besides you, his scrubs replaced by a pair of jeans, sweatshirt and a thick jacket.

"Hey, you okay?" You ask quietly, not even being sure if you can bring the volume of your voice up at this point.

He nods, "Yeah." before his eyes roam over you once again, just like they did when you were crawling up in the ceiling.

"All bandaged up." He notices jokingly, eyes focusing on the wound on your palm

"Yeah, it wasn't anything too bad." You reply, noticing that his father left awhile ago, "Your dad was here?"

Wooyoung chuckles, face flushing red immediately as his eyes fall to the gravel below your feet. "How embarrassing, my dad coming to check up on me like I'm a child."

You hum, eyes tracing over his side profile and the pretty lines of his jaw, "I don't think it's embarrassing, I think it's nice that he cares so much about you."

Wooyoung looks at you, something unrecognizable swimming in his eyes. "You have anyone to check up on you?"

You chuckle bitterly. The only family you have is stuck in the building across the compound. "No."

"Oh." Wooyoung lets out, face contorted into an expression you hate the most. Pity.

You open your mouth to jokingly scold him about it but all the words get stuck in your throat as you see someone get carried out in a body bag from A-building. Wooyoung notices your attention somewhere else and looks over his shoulder to see what caught your attention.

He presses his lips together, turning to you. "You didn't hear?"

Your eyes immediately snap towards him, feeling your throat close up, "Hear what?"

"Someone killed the new officer that started working here two weeks ago."

It feels like a bucket of cold water washed over you and your eyes follow the black body bag that gets placed into a vehicle. His colleagues carrying him seem downright heartbroken.

You didn't know who the new officer was, neither one of you was here long enough to meet each other but it still didn't stop the guilt to burn through your chest like acid.

Your eyes burn. You did this.

"He had two daughters in middle school." Wooyoung adds, eyes plastered on the same thing as you. The man's dead body. "They found several stab wounds in his abdomen."

A sound so guttural leaves you before you can even reign it in and Wooyoung's head turns to you, his eyes softening immediately once he notices the hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

Such a violent death. An innocent person.

"Oh, Y/N...." He utters softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "It's okay, you're okay."

"Someone died...?" Is all you can say through your sniffles as you bite down hard on your lip, not even being aware of the words that leave you, "An innocent person?"

An innocent person with a wife and kids waiting for him to come back from work tonight.

The guilt almost doubles you over, hits you like a train going at full speed.

You never thought your plan would affect anyone this much that it would result in a life getting lost.

But you turning up the heat this noon, something that was supposed to be so simple and just cause a lock down in A-building, started a chain of events that ended up taking someone's life prematurely.

This is on you.

You might not be the one that stabbed him but you were the one that created a path that led to him getting stabbed.

"Hey, Y/N-ie." Wooyoung softly consoles you, hand now brushing the skin of your cheek, "Why are you crying?"

You barely register the nickname he calls you with but his touch is soothing, warm.

You obviously can't tell Wooyoung the truth, you can't tell him you were the cause for all of this. Instead, you have to let it fester inside of you, slowly eat away at your insides until there's nothing left.

But you have to tell him something. So, you go with the second truth;

"I was scared." You whimper, the events of today finally crashing down on you as you softly sob, "I was so scared."

Wooyoung surprises you by pulling your face into the crook of his neck, his arms coming up around you as he pats your back. But you melt into the warmth of his body and the smell of his clothes.

"I was scared too." He confesses softly in your ear, hand still patting your back over the blanket, "It's okay to be scared. I don't think you'd be human if you weren't scared in a place like this."

You stay in his embrace despite hating to be touched most of the time, until your tears cease and turn to soft sniffles against his sweatshirt.

It feels nice, you think, to have someone check up on you.

On the drive back home. When he enters his apartment. Sits in his living room and later on in the night, lays in his bed;

Wooyoung can't stop thinking about you.

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader #ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung angst

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blackleatherjacketz · 1 year

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Lucky Guess

Max Burnett x Female Reader

Summary: Waiting on your date, you run into Max, a handsome stranger at the bar. Things turn out better than you ever could have imagined... or did they?

Warnings:18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Emotional Manipulation, Con Men, Max Being Charming, Alcohol, Threats of Violence, Hand-Holding, Kissing, Biting, Face-Holding, Max Undressing You, Suggested Voyeurism, Vaginal Sex, Outercourse?, Hotel Sex, Woman On Top, Soft Dom/Sub Themes, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 3.8K+

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479