#xfemale reader

𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲.

The air was thick with the scent of salt, sweat, and cheap perfume, the ocean’s roar a distant hum beneath the screech of electric guitars and the thump of bass from the open-air stage as the Santa Carla boardwalk pulsed with life under the kaleidoscope of neon lights.

The boardwalk was the beating heart of the city’s nightlife, a haven for rebels, dreamers, and those who thrived in the shadows.

Among them was The Lost Boys, the hottest rock band to ever tear through Santa Carla’s underground scene. David, the enigmatic frontman with a voice like whiskey and sin; Dwayne, the brooding bassist with eyes that could burn through your soul; Paul, the wild-child guitarist whose riffs were as reckless as his grin; and Marko, the drummer whose frenetic energy could make the crowd lose themselves entirely.

They weren’t just a band—they were a phenomenon. Their music was raw, primal, dripping with danger and desire, and their shows were more like rituals, drawing crowds that screamed their names like they were gods.

Rumors swirled about them: that they never aged, that they vanished after gigs, that their music could make you feel things you didn’t know you could feel. The truth was darker, more intoxicating. They were vampires, bound by blood and hunger, and the stage was their hunting ground.

Across town, another band was clawing its way to the top. Midnight Sirens was fronted by you, a singer whose voice was both a weapon and a caress, weaving melodies that could break hearts and ignite souls.

Your band was the underdog, gritty and unpolished, but your raw talent and unapologetic stage presence had the scene buzzing. You were a force, all fire and defiance, with a leather jacket that clung to your curves and eyes that held secrets of their own.

The Sirens were the antithesis of The Lost Boys’ polished chaos—your music was rebellion, your lyrics a middle finger to the world. And tonight, you were headlining the same festival, pitted against the untouchable kings of Santa Carla’s rock scene.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸.

The festival was electric, the crowd a sea of leather, studs, and teased hair. The Lost Boys had just finished their set, David’s voice still echoing in the air like a lover’s whisper as the crowd roared.

You watched from the wings, arms crossed, your heart pounding—not from nerves, but from the way David’s eyes had locked onto yours mid-song, a smirk curling his lips as if he knew something you didn’t. Dwayne had caught your gaze too, his fingers lingering on the bass strings, his stare heavy and unyielding. Paul had blown you a kiss from the stage, all cocky charm, while Marko’s wild grin as he tossed his drumsticks into the crowd felt like a challenge.

They were trouble, and you knew it. But you weren’t one to back down.

Your set was next, and you stormed the stage like you owned it. Your voice was a siren’s call, raw and sultry, pulling the crowd into your orbit. You sang of freedom, of desire, of breaking every rule the world tried to chain you with. The lyrics were your truth, and every note was a defiance of the shadow The Lost Boys cast over the scene.

You felt their eyes on you—David’s calculating, Dwayne’s intense, Paul’s playful, Marko’s wild. They were in the VIP section now, lounging like predators, their presence a weight you couldn’t ignore.

When your set ended, the crowd was yours, screaming your name as you left the stage, sweat-slicked and buzzing with adrenaline. You didn’t expect them to be waiting for you backstage.

“Nice show, siren,” David drawled, leaning against a speaker, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His platinum hair gleamed under the dim lights, and his leather coat made him look like he’d stepped out of a fever dream. “Didn’t think anyone could steal our thunder.”

You smirked, wiping sweat from your brow. “Maybe you’re not as untouchable as you think.”

Paul laughed, slinging an arm around Marko, who was practically vibrating with energy. “Oh, she’s got fire,” Paul said, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I like that.”

Dwayne didn’t speak, but his gaze pinned you in place, dark and unreadable. You felt it like a touch, a slow burn that made your skin prickle. Marko, meanwhile, was circling you like a shark, his grin all teeth. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he said, voice low and teasing. “Good. We like trouble.”

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝘂𝗹𝗹.

The rivalry should’ve kept you apart, but the pull was undeniable. It started with late-night run-ins at dive bars, their band and yours trading barbs and drinks until the lines blurred. David would lean too close, his voice a velvet challenge as he critiqued your lyrics, daring you to push harder. Dwayne would sit silently, but his hand would brush yours when he passed you a drink, the contact lingering just long enough to make your breath catch. Paul was all flirtation, his arm around your shoulders, whispering filthy promises in your ear that made you laugh even as your cheeks flushed. Marko was chaos, pulling you into impromptu dances in empty parking lots, his hands on your hips, his laughter infectious.

You knew they were dangerous, but you weren’t exactly safe yourself. You’d clawed your way up in a world that didn’t want you to succeed, and their darkness called to the part of you that thrived on rebellion. They started showing up at your gigs, front row, their presence a silent claim.

The crowd noticed, whispering about the tension between The Lost Boys and Midnight Sirens. The tabloids ate it up, calling it a feud, but it was something else entirely—something hungrier.

One night, after a gig at a seedy club on the boardwalk, they invited you to their loft, a sprawling, dilapidated space above an abandoned theater. The air was thick with the scent of incense and leather, the walls plastered with tour posters and half-finished lyrics. You should’ve said no, but curiosity, and something deeper, pulled you in.

David poured you a drink, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you the glass. “You’re not like the others,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “You don’t just sing. You feel it. Like us.”

You raised an eyebrow, sipping the whiskey. “Flattery won’t make me go easy on you at the next festival.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, his body radiating heat despite the coolness of his skin. “I don’t want you to go easy. I want you to burn.”

Dwayne appeared at your side, silent as ever, but his hand found the small of your back, a possessive touch that sent a shiver through you. “You’re not afraid of us,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Why?”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “Because I’m not afraid of anything.”

Paul’s laugh broke the tension, and he sprawled across a couch, patting the space beside him. “Come on, siren. Sit with us. Let’s see how fearless you really are.”

Marko was behind you now, his breath warm against your neck. “Or we could play,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm. “You like games, don’t you?”

The air crackled with tension, their eyes on you, predatory and adoring all at once. You should’ve run, but you didn’t. You wanted this, wanted them.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁.

It wasn’t just one moment that sealed it; it was a thousand small ones. Stolen kisses in dark alleys after shows, David’s lips cold and commanding against yours. Dwayne’s hands, strong and steady, are pulling you close during a midnight ride on his motorcycle, the wind whipping through your hair. Paul’s teasing touches, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh as you laughed over cheap beer. Marko’s wild energy, pinning you against a wall backstage, his kisses all heat and hunger.

They weren’t just falling for you—they were consuming you, and you them. But there was a secret they hadn’t shared, a truth that lingered in the way their eyes glowed under the moonlight, in the way they never seemed to tire, in the faint coppery tang on their breath.

One night, at the loft, they told you. David’s voice was steady, his hand cupping your face as he explained what they were—vampires, creatures of the night, bound to blood and eternity. Dwayne stood behind you, his hands on your shoulders, grounding you. Paul and Marko watched, their usual playfulness replaced by something solemn, almost reverent.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” David said, his thumb brushing your lips. “We’d never hurt you.”

You weren’t afraid. You were alive, your heart pounding with the thrill of it. They offered you a choice: stay human, stay with them, or join them in the dark. You didn’t answer right away, but the way you pulled David into a kiss, the way you let Dwayne’s hands roam, the way you laughed as Paul and Marko crowded close, told them everything they needed to know.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝘁.

The first time you gave in entirely, it was like a song: wild, chaotic, and perfect. The loft was dark, lit only by candles and the glow of the boardwalk lights through the windows. David’s hands were everywhere, his kisses a slow burn that left you gasping. Dwayne was a quiet storm, his touch reverent but possessive, his lips trailing fire down your neck. Paul was all play, his laughter mixing with your moans as he teased you mercilessly. Marko was relentless, his energy a whirlwind that pulled you under, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.

They worshipped you, each in their own way, their hands and lips mapping every inch of you. It was overwhelming, the way they moved together, a perfect harmony of desire and hunger. You were their muse, their siren, their equal, and they made you feel it in every touch, every whispered word.

The air was heavy with heat as you sank into the plush velvet of the loft’s oversized couch, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced across their pale skin. David’s lips found yours, his kiss deep and commanding, tasting of whiskey and something darker, something that made your pulse race. His hands slid under your shirt, cool fingers tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed against him, your legs straddling his hips. “You’re ours,” he growled against your mouth, his voice a velvet blade that cut through your defenses.

Dwayne’s hands were on your shoulders, sliding down to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, his touch firm yet reverent. He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear, his breath hot as he murmured, “Let us have you.” His fingers teased your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Paul was at your side, his grin wicked as he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it aside with a flourish. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice rough with want. His hands roamed your thighs, parting them as he knelt between your legs, his lips trailing kisses up the inside of your thigh, teasingly close to where you ached for him. He nipped at your skin, not enough to break it but enough to make you gasp, your hips bucking toward him.

Marko was behind you, his chest pressed against your back, his hands slipping under your skirt to find the heat between your legs. “So ready for us,” he purred, his fingers brushing against your core, teasing through the thin barrier of your underwear. His touch was relentless, circling and stroking until you were trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He kissed the nape of your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to hint at the danger beneath his playfulness.

“You’re burning up, siren,” David murmurs against your mouth, his cool lips a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating from your skin. “Let us take care of you.” Dwayne’s strong hands grip your hips, holding you steady as Paul’s teasing fingers trail lower, while Marko’s wild grin promises chaos. “We’ll make it good,” Paul whispers, voice thick with hunger. “All four of us… we’ll give you everything you need until you’re screaming our names louder than any crowd on the boardwalk.”

David pulled back, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as he watched you unravel under their hands. “Tell us what you want, siren,” he said, his voice a low command that sent a thrill through you.

“You,” you gasped, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him back to your lips. “All of you.”

They didn’t hesitate. Dwayne’s hands lifted you slightly, sliding your skirt and underwear down your legs, leaving you bare and vulnerable under their gazes. Paul’s mouth found your core, his tongue flicking against you with a skill that made your vision blur, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Marko’s fingers joined in, slipping inside you, curling just right as he whispered filthy praises in your ear, his voice a dark melody that made you clench around him.

David’s hands guided your hips, rocking you against Paul’s mouth, his own lips claiming yours in a kiss that was all hunger and possession. Dwayne’s fingers teased your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples until you were whimpering into David’s mouth, your body a live wire of sensation.

The pleasure built, a crescendo that had you trembling on the edge. Paul’s tongue was relentless, Marko’s fingers ruthless, Dwayne’s touch grounding, and David’s kisses consuming. You came apart with a cry, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy rolled through you, their hands and lips guiding you through it, drawing out every shudder, every moan.

They didn’t stop. Paul kissed his way up your body, his lips slick and warm as he claimed your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him. Dwayne’s hands turned you, positioning you on your knees, his chest pressed against your back as he entered you slowly, his size stretching you until you were gasping, clinging to David’s shoulders. Dwayne’s thrusts were deep, deliberate, each one driving you higher, his hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

Marko was in front of you now, his pants discarded, his arousal evident as he guided your hand to him, his grin wild as you stroked him, his moans low and guttural. Paul’s hands were in your hair, guiding your mouth to him, his breath hitching as you took him in, your lips and tongue working him until he was cursing under his breath, his hips jerking.

David watched it all, his hand stroking himself as he murmured commands, his voice a dark symphony that tied it all together. “Look at you,” he said, his eyes burning. “Our perfect siren, taking us all.”

The rhythm built, their touches and thrusts a perfect harmony, your body singing under their hands. Dwayne’s pace quickened, his grip tightening as he drove you toward another peak. Marko’s moans grew louder, his hands tangling in your hair as he neared his own release. Paul’s curses were a litany of need, his hips bucking as you brought him closer. David’s hand pulled your free one, guiding you, his own breath ragged as he watched you unravel again.

You came together, a collision of pleasure and heat, your cries mingling with theirs as you shattered, Dwayne’s release hot inside you, Marko and Paul spilling with groans that echoed in the loft. David pulled you to him, his own release painting your skin as he kissed you, claiming you in the aftermath.

They held you close as you caught your breath, their hands gentle now, stroking your skin, whispering praises. “I knew you were ours,” David murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl that sent heat pooling in your core.

Dwayne’s hands tightened on your hips, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re everything.”

Paul’s grin was wicked as he kissed his way down your spine, his fingers dancing across your skin. “Our little rebel.”

Marko’s laugh was wild, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was all teeth and fire. “Sing for us, siren.”

And you did, not with words, but with gasps and moans, your body singing a melody only they could hear.

The Eternity.

The rivalry between The Lost Boys and Midnight Sirens became legend, but the truth was more complicated. On stage, you were fire and ice, trading barbs through lyrics and stealing the crowd’s devotion. Off stage, you were theirs, and they were yours. The boardwalk whispered about the chemistry, the way you’d linger after shows, the way their eyes followed you like you were the only thing in the world.

You hadn’t chosen eternity yet, but every night, they tempted you closer. David’s promises of power, Dwayne’s quiet vows of protection, Paul’s teasing lures of freedom, Marko’s wild dreams of chaos, they were a song you couldn’t stop singing.

One night, as the moon hung low over the ocean, you stood on the boardwalk, the four of them around you, their presence a shield and a challenge. The crowd roared in the distance, chanting for an encore, but you were here, in this moment, with them.

“What’s it gonna be, siren?” David asked, his voice soft but sharp, his eyes searching yours.

You looked at them—David’s intensity, Dwayne’s steadiness, Paul’s mischief, Marko’s fire, and you smiled, slow and sure. “I’m already yours,” you said. “But I’m not done rocking yet.”

They laughed, pulling you close, their hands and lips a promise of forever. The boardwalk glittered below, the music never stopping, and you knew, whatever came next, you’d face it with them—your band, your boys, your eternity.

The summer air that day had felt thick enough to chew. Sun blazing overhead. Popsicles melting faster than the kids holding them. Music crackling from a radio propped on a patio table, whatever was popular that year bleeding into the sound of splashing and shouting.

Your father had dragged you and Baz to one of his friends’ houses. You didn’t know the man. You never did. They rotated in and out of your life like background noise.

Baz kept his distance from your father the second you arrived. That was his survival tactic. Blend into the walls. Watch. Wait.

You stayed near the edge of the pool.

Kneeling first. Then sitting. Your legs dangling in, toes testing the temperature like it might bite.

The water shimmered bright blue, almost fake-looking under the sun. Kids jumped in without thinking. Cannonballs. Screams. Chlorine thick in the air.

You gripped the metal railing and lowered yourself in slowly.

Waist deep.

Breathing carefully.

Staying near the steps where your feet could still find solid ground.

“You gonna sit there all day?” your father called from a lawn chair, beer sweating in his hand.

You ignored him.

“Don’t be such a baby,” he added, loud enough for the other adults to hear. A few chuckled. Not cruel. Just amused.

Heat climbed your neck.

You moved a little farther out.

The water reached your ribs. Your heart thudded against them like it was trying to retreat.

“You’re fine,” he called again. “It’s just water.”

Just water.

A group of older kids barreled past you, splashing hard. One of them clipped your shoulder. You lost your footing for a second but grabbed the railing again.

“Go deeper!” your father shouted. “Swim!”

You shook your head slightly.

The kids were rough. Pushing each other under. Grabbing ankles. Shriek laughing.

You tried to shift away from them.

A hand caught your arm.

Not cruel. Not intentional. Just careless.

Another body slammed into you from behind.

Your grip slipped.

Suddenly, there was no step beneath your foot.

You went under.

The world changed instantly.

Sound disappeared into a muffled roar. Sunlight fractured above you in blinding pieces. Water flooded your nose and your mouth. You opened your eyes and saw nothing but legs. Kicking. Thrashing.

You tried to push up.

A heel struck your shoulder. Another grazed your cheek.

You swallowed water.

Your chest burned. Panic erupted, wild and animal. You flailed, but your arms met resistance. Bodies. Movement. No one noticing.

Above the surface, the music kept playing. Laughter carried on.

You tried to scream.

All that came out were bubbles.

Your lungs spasmed. The edges of your vision started to blur into white.

And then—

An arm hooked under yours.

Strong. Familiar.

You broke the surface in a violent gasp, coughing, choking, clawing at air like it might disappear too.

Baz dragged you toward the steps, half-lifting you out of the water. You collapsed against the hot concrete, coughing until your ribs ached.

The world rushed back in pieces.

Music. Laughter. Someone saying, “She okay?”

Your father’s shadow fell over you.

“Jesus,” he scoffed. “All that over nothing?”

Nothing.

You curled slightly onto your side, water pouring from your hair onto the concrete. Baz’s hand stayed on your back, firm and steady.

No one scolded the kids.

No one turned off the radio.

The party didn’t pause.

You lie there staring at the sky, the sun a blinding white circle overhead.

That was the first time you understood how easy it would be for the world to keep going without you.

Now, years later, you lie beside a different pool.

The moon instead of the sun.

Your hand trailing lazily through water that no longer terrified you.

Smurf had forced you back in after that summer. Held you by the shoulders. Made you float. Made you swim. Again and again until your body stopped locking up.

“Fear is embarrassing,” she had told you. “You don’t let it show.”

So you didn’t.

Now the water felt almost friendly.

Almost.

Pope stood next to you, bare and naked. He shifted slightly, close enough to hear your breathing change if it did.

“One day, I think I’ll touch the moon.” Pope doesn’t respond, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

The night wrapped around the house like it was listening.

You sat still, elbows resting on your knees, eyes on the water as it shifted under the moon. The surface looked clean. Peaceful. Like nothing ugly had ever happened near it.

You almost laughed.

You found it funny how almost everyone in this family thought they were the exception to death. Like it was negotiable. Like it respected skill. As if a clean plan or a loaded gun made you immune.

Baz thought he was smarter than the ending. Pope thought he could outrun it if he hit hard enough first. Smurf acted like she had a contract with it.

Even J, in his quiet way, carried that same delusion. Like proximity to chaos meant control over it.

You weren’t innocent either.

You all walked around like you were too significant to be erased. Too aware. Too prepared.

But death didn’t care about awareness.

It wasn’t personal.

And that was the part that unsettled you most.

You tilted your head back, staring at the sky.

“We all think we’re inevitable to the consequences we’ve built for ourselves,” you said softly. “Like we get to be the exception because we understand the rules.”

Your voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t dramatic. It was almost curious.

“We build these lives out of bad decisions and then act shocked when they collapse.”

A breeze brushed against your skin, cool and indifferent.

“I’m not against whatever the universe has lined up for me. I’m not naive enough to think there isn’t something waiting. I just… want to see it coming.”

You swallowed.

“I want the decency of knowing when the ground’s about to give. I don’t want it quiet. I don’t want it subtle. I don’t want to be mid sentence and then nothing.”

The thought lingered heavier than you expected.

“But who am I to want that?” you continued. “I’ve taken things from people who didn’t deserve it. I’ve stood by while guilty people kept breathing because it served us better.”

You flexed your hands slightly, remembering the weight of a gun. The hesitation. The choice.

“I don’t get to pretend I’m clean. None of us do.”

Your gaze drifted toward the house.

“I’d take a bullet for every single one of them. Not because they deserve it. That’s the part people don’t understand. It’s not about deserving.”

It was about love.

Messy. Illogical. Ruinous love.

“I’d take it because I couldn’t sit there and watch them fall. I’d rather be the one on the ground than the one standing over it.”

You let that settle.

“I’d risk everything I have if it meant protecting them. Every plan. Every exit. Every ounce of self preservation I’ve built.”

Your jaw tightened slightly.

“And maybe that’s where I’ll die. Not in some grand betrayal. Not in a dramatic shootout. Just stepping in front of something meant for someone else.”

The pool water shifted again, reflecting the moon in broken fragments.

“And maybe that’s fair,” you said quietly.

You thought about your father. About the near drowning. About all the times you survived something that should have marked you permanently.

“You don’t get to live like this and ask for softness at the end.”

Your eyes softened, but your voice didn’t.

“We’re not the exception. None of us. The only thing we actually control is how we meet it. Head down. Or eyes open.”

A small breath left your chest.

“I don’t plan on looking away.”

Silence returned, thick but not suffocating.

For now, that was enough.

“You’ll fall,” he muttered against your ear, though his hold was unyielding enough to bruise.

You wanted to argue, to tell him you weren’t fragile, that you could ride on your own if he’d only let you but you swallowed it down. It was always easier to stay quiet.

Ahead, Astrid spun Stormfly into a wide loop, laughter carrying on the breeze. The others weren’t far behind, weaving and darting in playful patterns.

You couldn’t help the way your chest ached watching them.

Hiccup felt the shift before you even realized you’d leaned forward again, eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. His fingers tightened over yours, jaw clenched.

“Don’t look at them.” His voice was low, dangerous in the way it could still sound like tenderness. “They don’t care about you like I do.”

You let out a small sigh and spoke careful and quietly. “Hiccup…I think you should be village chief-“ you cut yourself off and try to immediately explain yourself before he could reply.

“Y-you know because you I think you would do a great job!” you attempt to butter him up a bit to lessen the blow he's about to give you.

“You're great at everything and you wouldn't have to-”

“Wouldn’t have to what? Watch you?” His laugh was humorless, sharp. He tilted your face toward him, forcing your gaze away from the sky. His green eyes burned, searching, accusing. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me distracted. So you could what? Sneak off?

Your throat tightened. “That’s not what I meant-”

“You're seeing someone else being my back aren't you?” Hiccup says almost as a matter of fact. Watching as your face contorted into one of surprise. You immediately go to defend yourself “what?! No! Hiccup how could you even accuse me of something like that?”

“I would never do that to you.” The brunette's eyes narrow. “Well it sure is starting to seem like it.”

“You don't want me.” his voice is rough “You’d rather have freedom. You want someone who knows nothing about you someone that could never live you like I do” He said it like it was fact, like you’d confessed it without words.

You stared at him, heart hammering, the wind suddenly colder against your skin. “That’s not true,” you whispered, but it came out small, trembling. Toothless shifted beneath you, sensing the storm above his back, his ears flattening as his tail swayed uneasily.

Hiccup’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it grew tighter. “Then say it,” he demanded, his voice low and cracking. “Say you don’t want anyone else. Say you’re not thinking about leaving me.”

“I’m not thinking about leaving,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Hiccup, you’re twisting everything. I just—I just want you to trust me.”

Hiccup stares silently at you before letting out a small sigh, pressing his forehead against yours and suddenly his voice goes softer. “I do trust you...But I need you to trust me too.”

His slightly calloused hand raises up to cup the side of your face his thumb making small circles on your cheek. “I know what’s best so tell me you'd choose me. You have to.”

By the time you landed on Berk, your legs trembled from more than just the flight. Hiccup dismounted first, reaching up to lift you down as though you couldn’t manage it yourself. His hand lingered at your waist, his thumb stroking slow circles that felt less like comfort.

“Someday soon,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. “You’ll be mine in every way that matters. My wife. My everything. And then you won’t have to look anywhere else, because you’ll have me.”

His smile was soft, sweet even. But his grip never loosened.

Her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Sully. I got Mark down here—"

She cut him off, glancing at the clock.

"Oh! He's early. He's the new hire taking over Greg's position while he's out. I'll be right down."

She hung up before he could answer.

She walked into the lobby.

Sullivan was already making introductions. She could hear them talking quietly. For such an intimidating guy, Sullivan was good with people.

Mark sat in one of the lobby chairs, his hands clasped over his bouncing knees. His nose twitched with another sniffle. The edges of his eyes and nose were rimmed red.

The scruffy beard he'd had before was gone, making him look younger. His hair was swept back off his forehead. He wore a button-down shirt and a pair of slacks that looked a size or two too big.

He must've borrowed them from Greg.

"Good morning," she called. "I'm glad you came."

Mark looked up as she crossed the threshold and stood to greet her, extending a hand.

"Yeah, me too. Thanks for this."

She wrapped her fingers around his rough hand and gave it a firm shake. The muscles in his hand trembled beneath hers. He sniffed again, but she gave no sign she'd noticed.

Instead, she met him with an easy smile before letting go.

"You're really helping me out," she said, dismissing his gratitude. "How's Greg?"

"He's recovering. Beat my ass when I told him what happened, though."

She laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"You should ask him how we met. Arguably worse."

Then she gestured toward Sullivan.

"I see you've met Sullivan. He's the head of day security."

"Yeah, he was saying."

"Good. Well, let's chat in my office, and then we'll get you set up with Kami. She's our HR director."

She turned back to Sullivan.

"Thanks, Sully. I'll see you later."

"You got it, Boss."

He looked at Mark and nodded.

"Hey, good luck, man."

She gestured for Mark to follow her toward the elevators.

As they rode up, she explained the different floors, pointed out where Kami worked, showed him the break room and attached kitchen if he ever needed anything, and where payroll was handled at the end of the day.

The elevator doors slid open.

"Sorry," she said. "It's warm up here. These old buildings don't have AC."

Mark shrugged.

"Anything's better than Crestview this time of year."

She nodded. She'd heard stories about the summers over there. The thought of all those people packed into that concrete building made her frown.

"Well, I'm glad you're not there anymore."

Maggie came swishing down the hallway, baby hairs stuck to her damp face. Her loose pink skirt swayed with every hurried step.

"Whoa, where's the fire, Mags?" she asked.

"A couple of guys called in sick for the night shift," Maggie hurried out. "Oh! Debra called. She said it was urgent."

She slid past them toward the elevator.

"Did she say what it was about?"

"No. Just that you needed to call her back."

The elevator doors slid shut.

She sighed and continued down the hallway to her office.

She offered Mark a seat before closing the door behind them. As she sat, he sniffled again.

"Are you feeling okay, Mark?"

His eyes widened for a split second before smoothing back down. He began picking at the dry skin around his nail beds.

"Yeah. Just one of those summer colds."

"Those are hard to shake."

"Worst of it's over, though. I can work. I really need the money."

"Sure."

She nodded easily.

"Greg talks about you a lot, you know. We all care about you, so if you ever need help with your..."

She paused, fixing him with a steady look.

"...cold... we've got a clinic with a doctor. They're always happy to help."

She opened her desk drawer, pulled out a small card, and slid it across the desk.

He took it without looking at it and slipped it into his pocket.

"Thanks."

She clapped her hands together.

"So. Onboarding is really straightforward, and Kami will walk you through everything downstairs before you start."

She leaned back in her chair.

"Operations are clean at this warehouse. We're shipping and handling. You'll report to Charles, the floor manager. If anything doesn't match the manifests, check with him. Don't engage with any street teams or contractors. Some companies hire extra security to make sure their trucks get to where they're going. Your job is getting things on the truck. That's it."

She held his gaze.

"If anyone threatens you, find someone on the security team. Don't take it on yourself. Are we clear?"

"Y-Yeah."

He swallowed.

"Greg told me... he told me you look after your guys. I appreciate the opportunity. Really."

Before she could answer, another knock rattled the frosted glass.

Frank slowly pushed the door open.

His broad shoulders filled the frame, his worn hat clutched in one hand.

The thing had seen better days.

She'd tried for years to convince him to wear another one. Two Christmases ago, she'd even bought him a replacement from the army surplus store.

He'd said the old one wasn't ready to be retired yet.

Neither was he.

She rarely saw him without it.

His salt-and-pepper hair had been getting more salt than pepper lately, and she liked to tease him that he was shrinking in his old age.

He'd huff, point a finger at her, threaten her vaguely, and she'd laugh in the face of his grumpiness.

"Found a replacement for Old Greg, have we?"

He stepped inside, settling the hat back on his head.

"Mark. Good to finally see you here."

Mark had to crane his neck to meet Frank's eyes.

"Yeah. It's been a while."

"Would you mind taking him down to Kami and showing him how to sign in with his security card?"

"You got it."

Frank nodded toward the door.

"C'mon, kid. Let's see if we can't make a man out of you yet."

Mark scrambled to his feet.

"Thanks again."

He hurried after Frank into the bullpen.

"Wait for me at the elevator," Frank called over his shoulder.

Mark nodded and disappeared.

Frank quietly shut the office door behind him.

Frank waited until the bullpen door clicked shut.

His face cooled ten degrees.

His eyes flicked toward the open windows where the box fan hummed.

"You hear the latest out of the East End?" he muttered.

She reached for the hair tie around her wrist, gathering her hair off the back of her neck.

"Is this about the helmet?"

Frank shook his head.

"It ain't the helmet."

His eyebrows furrowed beneath his cap as he wiped the sweat from the back of his neck.

"It's Cobblepot."

"Oh."

She finished tying her hair back.

"Is he back from that health retreat in Jersey? Does he want more security?"

Frank frowned.

"Listen, kid. Lounge security says he never left. Not like his PR team claimed."

He paused.

"Old bird's completely off the grid. Vanished out of his penthouse a week ago."

"And this has nothing to do with the helmet?"

"No one's confirming."

She was already digging into the fresh pack of cigarettes she'd bought that morning.

Frank reached into his pocket for his lighter.

She took a long drag, pressing the heel of her palm into one tired eye.

"Well... fuck, Frank."

She'd had a contract with Oswald dating back to the days that deranged red helmet had been tearing through Gotham.

Back then, firefights had nearly sunk her business. Insurance premiums had gone through the roof.

Oswald needed reliable freight lines that could move quietly through the city.

She needed work to keep her people employed so they didn't drift back toward men like him.

Eventually, the contracts expanded.

Security.

Staffing.

Legitimate faces for legitimate businesses.

Now, if Oswald was gone...

A vacuum had opened.

Whoever got sucked into the crown might not be interested in honoring old agreements.

Worse, they might decide LaSalle was worth taking.

That could explain the sudden turnover around Kasten.

Jim, the operations manager, had a thumb in every pie. Maybe he'd already cut a deal.

She took another drag before speaking.

"So..."

She looked at Frank.

"Who's the new king?"

Frank shook his head.

"Not a king. A prince."

He continued.

"Trust fund kid bought the whole thing outright."

"He goes by Finch."

A dry laugh escaped her.

"Finch?"

"Mhm."

She exhaled another ribbon of smoke.

"How cryptic."

"Least it ain't Helmet."

Frank shrugged before heading for the door.

She didn't know what to make of it.

How much trouble could one trust fund kid really be?

Cobblepot had never mentioned having children.

Maybe it was one of Falcone's.

Or Maroni's.

Maybe some other billionaire's spoiled son playing gangster.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone

Before she could speak, the sharp snap of chewing gum crackled through the receiver.

She closed her eyes and choked down a groan of contempt.

"Hey," Debra said. "Tried calling earlier."

"I was in a meeting."

"Okay."

Another snap.

"We've got a problem over here" Debra said

She leaned back in her chair.

"There's problems everywhere."

"Well, this is an emergency. Warehouse inventory said we had enough back stock."

Snap.

"They were wrong."

"So what's the problem?" she frowned.

"We need a rush on an overnight delivery."

"For cotton bedding?"

She blinked.

"You need an emergency delivery... for blankets?"

"It's the annual summer sale."

Snap.

"We're willing to pay triple rate."

Now that got her attention.

"When?"

"Today," Debra said flatly. "We need it before tomorrow morning." she continued

She rubbed at her temple.

"I understand. Doesn't Amanda usually cover these? Why are you calling?"

She shifted the phone onto her shoulder and opened the scheduling software.

Three night-shift callouts.

Limited drivers.

Limited trucks.

"Aren't you two friends?" Debra scoffed.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Figured she would've told you she's out of town, since you two are close."

Another pop of her gum crackled over the line.

She took a slow drag from her cigarette, letting the nicotine coat her tongue.

A sting spread through her chest.

"I am her friend."

She kept her voice level.

"Not a secretary."

"Yeah, okay. So can you do it?" Debra asked

Her grip tightened around the receiver until her knuckles pressed against the skin so hard it ached.

Silence stretched between them.

Snap

"Send the request. Charles will handle it."

She hung up.

She barely had time to breathe before another knock tapped against the office door.

"Come in, Maggie."

"Sorry if this is a bad time."

She slid a manila envelope onto the desk.

The blue GCPD crest sat prominently across the front.

GCPD AUTOMATED PROPERTY RELEASE CITATION

"Walker said the truck was ready to document for insurance."

"Thanks."

She looked up.

"Anything else?"

Maggie nodded.

"Walker also wanted you to call him later about Greg Marchum."

Then she quietly slipped back out, closing the door behind her.

Today wasn't supposed to be hard.

Hell, she wasn't even supposed to be here.

She opened the envelope.

GOTHAM CITY POLICE DEPARTMENTCOMMERCIAL VEHICLE IMPOUND & HAZARDOUS MATERIAL INCIDENT

...

Operator on Record: Gregory Marchum Status: Admitted – County Hospital Intensive Care

She frowned.

Hazardous materials?

She turned the page.

Declared Cargo:Industrial cotton textiles.

Recovered Cargo:Pressurized industrial corrosive compounds.

Her eyes swept over the report a second time.

No.

Every truck was weighed before it left.

That truck had left with nothing but fabric.

Heat flooded her chest.

Someone's moving in on her company.

She yanked open the bottom drawer.

Pens, batteries, and loose paper clips clattered together as she grabbed her camera. She shoved it into her purse, slammed the drawer shut, and headed for the door.

Blood roared in her ears.

Something heavy hammered against her ribs.

She threw the office door open so hard the glass rattled, and for a second she worried she'd cracked it.

The bullpen fell silent.

Heads turned.

"Maggie."

She didn't raise her voice.

She didn't need to.

Maggie was already on her feet.

"I need the insurance paperwork for the impound lot."

She turned.

"Angela."

Angela froze with one hand over the phone receiver.

"Get Walker upstairs. He's reading everything on my desk."

No one argued.

No one moved slowly.

She crossed the bullpen, already reaching for the phone on Maggie's desk.

One ring.

"Frank."

"Has Sullivan left?"

"He was just about to."

"Stop him."

She hung up just as Maggie handed her a manila envelope.

She headed for the fire escape and down the stairs.

The elevator was too slow for the warpath she was carving.

Frank was already standing outside the security office.

His keys were in his pockets, his hands clasped behind his back.

He watched her tear the stairwell door open.

He could hear her heels pounding against the linoleum before she reached the bottom.

"I need you to drive me to impound."

Frank didn't ask why.

The past

For being surrounded by mountains of snow Diluc couldnt help but melt at the heat that scortched his raggard body. Huffing heavily and scowl still remaining on his face, the blood of a Fatui camp soaking his boots. Even as he abandoned his Pyro vision the hot passion in his core blazed on, nothing but hatrid, disgust and sadness flowing through his veins. The fatui will pay for what they had taken from him and they will pay with blood. 

The teen allowed himself to relax from his tense state, the camp held nothing of danger just deathly silence. After such serge of emotion part of Diluc just wanted to break down, fall on his knees and scream at the world for the pain it brought but he kept it to himself, he simply regained his breath and stared at the sky with unfocused eyes. He allowed himself to be vulnerable, a terrible idea really, when suddenly a knife was pressed to his throat, his claymore kicked out his grasp and many feet away from him before being wrestled face first into the bloody snow.

"Hah! You did a good job clearning this entire camp. Not even a messenger being able to get free. If i wernt nearby your little stunt wouldnt even be noticed by the fatui." You smugly stated, holding Diluc down one hand grasping the knife to his throat, the other clutching both his hands above his head. 

Power wise Diluc could over power you but right now his mind was not in a good place and he didnt have his vision, unmatched to you who was above him with an anemo vision hung on your shoulder. Part of Diluc felt this was time, time to give up, to finally be released of pain. He was tired but another part of him knew he had more to give to life.

Diluc stayed silent, not answering your taunt.

"Hmm? Little foreigner, you were so energetic while taking the lives of many and yet you lie unresponsive when finally pushed to the ground." You learned close into him towards his ear and hushed

"Do you wish for a reckless death or is there more under your mask?"

You smile down on him, his crimsion hair blended nicely into the bloody snow and his eyes luminating from his mask were rubies in a wasteland.  You had heard news of camp after camp being slaughtered these past months and finally you caught the troublesome rabbit. It was interesting.

"Do you wish to destroy the fatui?" 

 You got a grunt in response

"Do you wish to spill blood, even those of the innocent, in order to achieve your goal?"

The red haired man seemed reluctant but gave a shallow 'yes'

"Then such youth and talent cannot be wasted!" You sang and stood up releasing him. Before diluc was able to recover into an offensive stance you offered your hand to him.

"My name is (fist name) (last name), order 437 of the Fatui and i wish to join hands with you comrade in the name of the Fatuis downfall." You sang with pride.

Diluc was shocked, what were you saying. He stood awkwardly watching your movements like an owl unsure of your motives.

"You see, even in our home land the Fatui cause destruction. I wish to stop that and i dont care how many lives i need to take to finish that wish. I even joined the Fatui to get what ever insight into their plans that i could" you walked closer to him and rested your hand against his stiff shoulder.

"And i see in your eyes a hunger that matches mine. What do you say my brother in scorn? Together we can cause a lot more damage than just a few fatui camps."

Diluc, still high off emotions and shock listened to your words, words that matched the desire that sat in his heart. With that he gave a solid nod and grasped your gloved hand with his. Together youd cause the fatui a good headache

Time jump

"Haha! This must have been our biggest success yet!" You sang at the fire with diluc quietly nodding at your side. The night was cold but the joy of victory was the only warmth you needed at that moment. 

"We destoryed a good amount of their supplies. It should take them a couple months to recover." Diluc nodded as he turned the boar meat evenly.

"Brother! Shall we celebrate?" You asked, holding out a bottle of Fire Water you had gotten from the last town you visited.  

"Haha. I cant tolerate that stuff like you can but go ahead, ill have some thing lighter though." And Diluc sipped from a ligher alcohol content drink.

The nights cold wind howled in the forest, a comfortable silence met the two of you.

"Diluc," you finally broke said silence as you lay back and watched the clear stars "why do you have such fury for the fatui? Ive known you for a while now, i know many things about you over our time together and yet i dont know this."

Diluc contemplated, thanks to the slight intoxication and open mood he finally opened up.

"They had doings in my fathers death. I know that may seem rather plain and simple but it was a bad time for me. It seemed the whole world, everything i felt comfort in betrayed me and left so i did too. I dont want to think about that stuff for now, i just want to get my emotions out and get revenge for the pain the Fatui have caused me."

You turned to look at him, his eyes which were usually empty and void or violent and hateful were now a somber ember. You had never seen him like this before.

You sighed and huffed your chest.

"I lost my sister." You said looking back to the sky. "We had lost our parents pretty young and were taken to a child home, even then i could tell it was off. One day a bunch of men in fatui suits came and started grabbing children by their shoulders and taking them away while our care giver simply stood to the side. My sister was one of them taken, i was a coward. I hid under my bed and watched. By the time they were gone there were only a fraction of children left. I was confused and hurt Silia left me but i was young and didnt understand what happened to her. 3 years ago i started looking for what happened to those children, i joined the fatui, worked hard and thats when i came across a file. On the year my sister was taken 13 children were delivered to a man called The Doctor. After further inverstigation i knew my sister was never coming back."

A soft sting pained your heart.

"We were nameless children in the eyes of the world, easy living material. Those in the children home that wernt taken became fatui soldiers anyway. Its all for the fatuis gain."

Diluc hummed and closed his eyes.

"I will not allow such injustices. This world will know wrath."

You turned back to your friend with a smile

"We will make it so."

Time jump(NSFW/skip if u want)

"Diluc~" you moaned, back arching as said man held your stomach, thrusting hungrily into your ass. His other hand held your shaft, pumping it to his thrusts.

Your head felt light, the tip of your nose burnt in the dazed state. He was so rough, his mind set on pleasing himself like a mad animal. Diluc always did have this animalistic nature to him and you loved it. Your ass stung and stomach churned as pleasure took hold of you.

Diluc leant down into your figure, setting himself deep into you as you felt every bulging vein of his cock in you.

"Scream" he said solfly, caressing your ears as you both released onto each other

Time jump

"Diluc!" You yelled at him in warning. Your actions were catching up to you and here stood two fatui harbingers ready to collect you and your friend to pay for your deeds. 

Diluc struggled to hold back the one while you the other. You wernt getting out of this alive were you? Your time has come but youd use every inch of your being to get Diluc out of the situation. You have nothing, nothing but Diluc but he still had a nation to return to, a brother in arms to rekindle with and a duty. If you die here at least Diluc could continue your wish for the Fatuis downfall through him.

With all your might you activated your vision, spent every muscle and energy into it and released a gust of wind, twisting and turning to form a whirlwind of a tornado.

"Go!" You shouted to him as the two harbingers were preoccupied watching the mass form of wind.

"Go home! Live! My brother may your passion go on. I will rejoin you in time but for now we must part." Through the snow that smashed against you, wind that howled in your ears and tears the blurred your vision you saw Dilucs face of shock clearly, his bright red hair thrashing in the wind. 

"Please" you whispered with the last drop of energy in you. To that you saw Dilucs figure dissapear, the ruby red you treasured in this land leave your sight.

As the winds calmed exhaustion over took you as you fell into the snow. 'Sorry Diluc, i dont know if i can keep my promise' you thought as the world went black

Present

Mondstadts night was energetic and cheerful as always, the song of good wine and joy vibrating in the tavern as adventurers, knights and folk enjoyed the weekend. The jolly atmosphere was contrast to the quiet brood of the bartender that swiftly serviced his customers.

"Ah such a splendid night say you Diluc?" Kaeya charmed.

Diluc didnt respond and turned his back to restock the quickly depleating wines.

In the ruckus of the party the tavern door opening was heard by no one. A heavey coated figure shuffling its way towards the bar. It made its spot along the bar wood.

"Does this place provide Fire Water?" It asks is a low voice, one that would be unaudable in all the noise but Diluc heard it. He turned immediatly to look at the person who would order such a drink and right away his eyebrows knotted together in confustion and shock as he looked to you. Similar build, similar face but mutured due to the years that had pasted. At first Diluc thought he was simply recreating your face on a stranger, that this wasnt actually you, he knew it wasnt, it couldnt be, he knew you wouldnt be able to fufil your promise made so many years back when you both were emotional young adults wanting to make their mark on the world.

You chuckled and spoke in Shneznayan, "My brother, its good to see your eyes alight again. I hope you still remember those Shneznayan lessons and can still speak." Diluc dropped the bottle he was holding, his face sinkinging into shock. It couldnt be you, it couldnt. Kaeya, surprised by the shound of shattering glass looked from Diluc to you, not butting in but definitely interested. 

"No but- you're…" Diluc didnt know if he wanted to cry or run away, his head not making sense of your arrival. 

You leaned over the bar and pulled Diluc into your shoulder, giving him a firm embrace to let him know you were real. Your hand cradled his head and grasped into his hair holding him in the tight embrce as Diluc finally responded and gave you a solid squeeze back. You withdrew and gave his shoulder a firm pat. 

"Im alive, yes. Id have to be if i were to look at this amazing home youve made yourself."

For the first time in a very long time Kaeya saw Diluc with a large true smile, his eyes blazed with excitment and life. 

"(Name) you are here."

"Mhm! I couldnt go back on a promise." 

You sat yourself down on a stool and grinned. "Now my friend, show me you havent forgotten whay ive taught you! Give me your most fowl Shneznayan curse!" You laughed with joy.

Diluc snorted, reminded of your soft but brutish ways. He could guess you wont be staying in Mondstadt for long but for now just knowing the person he shared his violent angsty young years with was still alive was worth it. 

"Oh Fox" you called as you walked into well size guard post, yet there was no response. Of course there wasn't, from the door way you could see the red and white armored clone sitting in his chair. To be honest calling it sitting would be nice. He was more leaned back lazily half off the chair. Asleep.

"Fox" you walked up again placing the fresh hot cup of caf on the table beside the control panel. Slowly you pulled off his helmet revealing his face. Stubble he's been too lazy to shave and messy hair that defiantly needs a good wash. Eyes shut and soft snores leaving his mouth. You chuckled running a soft hand over his cheek. Suddently you were pushed back on the control panel with a blaster to your neck.

"I brough u some caf" your voice was quiet and well obviously nervous, given your current situation.

"Kriff, what the hell" the disgruntled commander put his blaster away and lifted you up by your collar. "Don't scare me like that" He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Good to see you too" U giggled grabbing the thankfully still hot cup of caf, handing it to Fox.

"Wha? oh thank you" He cleared his throat "What brings you here?" He went to grab his helmet but you moved to stopped him.

"Let me see your face" he relented, sighing "I wanted to come see you, after all it appears that you need someone to keep you awake"

He wasn't amused

"Oh come on please I wont be a distraction!" U now begged giving a pouty face and your best puppy eyes.

"Fine but keep out of the way"

"And if I dont?"

All you got was a glair in response. "your no fun" you pulled up a stool next to the main chair, as Fox now fully sat up and began typing on the control panel.

You began to zone out watching the clones talented fingers rhythmically click and press the buttons with no hesitation. When suddenly he stopped, lifting his hand from the keypad and brining it just above your lap palm facing up. You snorted a laugh before giving him a weird look.

"Hold it"

"Wha? OH!" you giggled taking his hand into your own as Fox turned his head trying to hide his rather obvious red face. "awww Fox" more giggled and taunts followed as the commander tried helplessly getting back to work with one thing on his mid.