#all that jail time and detective work I bet

[lazorbeanz]

Stop they’re too adorable I- *sobs quietly*

[deluluzai]

Oh shit I completely forgot about the PM exchange thing.. anyway so here are my thoughts???!

Ok so first of all, we can be delulu yknow?? Everything will be resolved somehow and no one is going to the PM! Everyone is happy. I mean doesn't Asagiri always pull the least expected thing??

Second of all: no one is happy let's break it down member by member

Yosano: she ain't going.

Kenji: ok yknow what? I think the PM could benefit from his powers, and innocent personality! But aside from that, Kenji isn't really focused on, so the chance of this might be low, but still, reasonable.

Tanizaki: OKAY I saw someone else say this and I AGREE! Ofc it's the same thing with Kenji, it would be random asf for him to be the big sacrifice but! Tanizaki managed to trick the PM a few times with his ability! So this would make a lot of sense! I think the chance of this is higher honestly.

Kyouka: Ufff, guys idk... I mean she was in the PM not too long ago and she's focused on a good amount... This would make sense, knowing that Atsushi can't just steal her away anymore but... for a loooot of time, in the beginning of BSD, it was a whole back and forth thing with Kyouka getting to the PM, then escaping, then getting back, then escaping. So not only would the series fall back to that again, the PM might've just given up. Still, I feel like this has a 50/50 chance of happening, depending which way Asagiri wants to go.

Kunikida: As much as I don't want it happening, it might just happen.. I can't really say much about this one. Kunikida is smart, organised and loyal to the ADA and would die for them. But then again, he wouldn't stray away from his ideals and go off killing people and torturing them. I don't think this has a high chance of happening, I mean there's still a reasonable chance, but, it would be hard to work with him yk?

Atsushi: honestly, aint no way. I mean yes, the first major thing in the series was about the PM trying to catch Atsushi for money! But then again the relationship with the PM (mainly Aku) changed drastically for him! The guild isn't offering money to the PM for atsushi anymore, and Aku and Atsushi work together anyway! And mainly since he's the main character, I don't think he's going to have his POVs in the PM, since I think the ADA is going to get more focused on, and his relationship with Aku. NOT TO MENTION the fact that Dazai would DEFINITELY get him out of there bc??? His mentor?? Going down on the same path as him? Also as Aku? Killing people and basically becoming the person he promised Oda not to be anymore?? Aint no way.

Ranpo: Yeah... i could see it. But then again I don't. Because yeah it's reasonable for the PM to choose him, and since Ranpo is being focused on a lot currently, and it would really impact his story - Ranpo is then again a smart-ass brat who wouldn't even use his "ability" in the PM, especially since it's more helpful for detective work and not mafia work. So I have no clue about this one honestly, It would be interesting character arc but how would that like... work?

And lastly..

Dazai: Ah god, I wrote him last bc I don't know what to say! I mean most people I've seen guessed it was him going. And honestly? Fucking reasonable! Like why WOULDNT Mori pick Dazai? Like yeaaah he's scared of him, but throughout the series he asked Dazai a lot of times if he would come back! It would make a lot of sense! Especially since Dazai became older and wiser. Honestly the only big thing that's holding be back from actually betting on Dazai is that... would asagiri really put him back there? Right now? I mean, look, guy was in jail this entire time, barely goes back to the agency and boom, back to the PM. I think Dazai is going to be again crucial for this new arc, especially in Atsushi's character! I think, writing wise, Dazai shouldn't go back. But then again it's the most logical thing! I have so many thoughts about this.

Or then again Asagiri could just pull the most craziest shit that none of us were expecting so-

[blacklister214]

The Slow Shift of Eliza's Feelings Toward Patrick

2x04: Angel of Inferno. Enemy. Patrick immediately gets under her skin, so much so that she literally says that losing to him would be worse than somebody dying. She loathes him, reasonably so, because he seems like one more man determined to stand in the way of her business. Also he gets her thrown in jail, and tries to steal her evidence.

He throws her further through a loop when she beats him at his own game and he shows up at her house with a smile on his face. She genuinely doesn't know what to make of him. Then she thinks he's threatening her friends and she is ready to throw down.

2x06: Frenemy. First step was Patrick hiring her to work his case. I don't think she really took his flattery sincerely until this moment. She assumes he wants her for the novelty of the "lady detective." This is big show of faith, especially for a man who runs his own agency.

The next big moment is when the way Patrick reacts to the results of the case. Even though she got him shot, he don't yell at her, and neither does he take back the money. Further more he thanks her for coming to see him, even though he's perfectly aware she had to to give him the results. Because of these reactions he moves into the frenemy tier. She offers him her opinion on his cane choice, which at the beginning of the episode she wouldn't have bothered with.

3x03: Friend. My favorite because this the beginning of their personal relationship, though the first jump was to ally of convenience which Patrick earns by listening to Eliza, conceding to her point and acquiescing to her plan. As the evening wears on she slowly drops the convenience part. She opens up with a little about her childhood and plays a game with him. She doesn't reproach him for his mistake with Malone, but immediately admits her own error and is ready to move on, until she find out he lied to her. Big moment here, because this time his lie HURT. She is furious in a way she's never been, because she'd allowed herself to begin to trust him. She's so mad that when he does open up in apology/explanation, she is unwilling to listen. Finally the major moment: He helps her out of her restraints, rather than leaving her there. She knows Patrick really did share the most painful moment of his life with her. That's why the breakfast and "Patrick" becomes a thing.

3x06: Employer. Why does she accept his offer? Patrick raced over to tell her about the bomb and checked himself to see if it was dangerous. He listened to her about taking the case to Wellington. He also helps tidy her office as he speaks to her without being asked. He accept her direction on the joint task force for without comment. Finally he proves how much he gets her. Business cards in a box, desire to make things possible for other women, and he already put her name on the door.

4x04: Partner: Shares ideas. Listens to him. Why? Because he doesn't give up on her, even though he is angry. Because he is able to push past mistakes and focus on the problems at hand.

4x05: Mentor. Evidenced by Eliza listening to Patrick about Phelps and honoring the deal. Why? Because he doesn't throw her under the bus with Bracewell. Because she can see Patrick being effective in a way she is not when he gets them into the crime scene. Because she can see his argument has merit, even when it sticks in her craw.

4x06: Ride or Die. Eliza is conflicted about Patrick's announcement he's going back to Paris. She's pleased at the show of faith, but still its not a purely celebratory look on her face. She agrees to spend her free time with him, doing something outside her comfort zone. Eliza never doubts his innocence in the stabbing, refuses to stay out of his trouble, and when she realizes the truth, she quite literally bets her life on his character.

All told, that's quite a bit of progress. Unlike William and Eliza who go from "Person I am UNWILLING to admit to being romantically interested in, but also drives me crazy to Person I am WILLING to admit I am romantically interested in, but also drives me crazy."

[fukuokadivision1]

Tasuku's Thoughts on Obihiro Division

Hisoka Tetsumasu

"Hisoka? You mean... this is the guy behind those shady mics?! Peh, can't say I'm too thrilled about him, if that's the case. Fukuoka's got enough problems without adding fuel to the fire with illegal gear. It's guys like him that make it tough for the rest of us, trying to live honest lives in a city that's already on the f'ing edge!"

Tasuku's expression hardens, his voice tinged with frustration, "I don't know if I'd blame him directly, but he's part of the problem, that's for sure. If I get the chance, I'd tell him straight up: 'Your actions have consequences, man! You might not have pulled the trigger, but you loaded the fucking gun.' And in Fukuoka, that's the last thing we need."

"...But hey, if he wants to throw down in a game, I'm all in. I'd like to see if he's got the guts to face me without any tricks up his sleeve. It's one thing to play with cards; it's another to play with people's lives. Let’s see if he can handle the real deal."

Daiki Kamiyama

"Daiki, the kid who's buddies with that sneaky-ass detective from Suginami who caused me to spend a night in jail? Yeah, I've heard about him."

"Look, I don't have anything against this kid personally, but if he's rolling with someone who's got it out for me, then we're gonna have us a serious problem. I don't need some wanna-be caped crusader judging me, my sister or my friend. He doesn't know the first thing about what any of us have been through. So who gave you the right to judge us, kid?"

"I mean, I get it, everyone's got their dreams, but this ain't no game. This is the real world, and it's rough. If this kid thinks he can just strut around like he's saving the f'ing day or something, he's gonna learn the hard way that actions have consequences. And if he steps out of line, he'll find out just how serious we are about protecting our turf."

Jack Verrill

"Sheesh, this guy may be the second butler to join this tournament after that Yuno guy here in Fukuoka. I didn't realize teams were so hard up that they had to have their servants joining their teams because they couldn't find anyone else."

"But anyway, this is the guy who’s always tailing that superhero kid, right? Can’t say I’m impressed. Anyone who lets their charge run wild like that obviously ain't doing their job right. And if he's enabling that kid's antics, then he's part of the problem. It's one thing to support someone's dreams, but it's another to let them put themselves in danger."

"I mean, I ain't exactly knowledgeable about how butlers work or anything, but I thought that a butler's supposed to have some sense, some control over the situation. But this Jack guy? Sounds like he's just along for the ride. And that's not gonna fly, not here in Fukuoka, and especially not in the D.R.B."

"And if he's not careful, his young master's gonna end up in a mess he can't exactly clean up with a dustpan and a brush. Just something to think about."

Veiled Vanguard

"Veiled Vanguard? Sounds like a crew straight out of a bad late-night TV drama. I don't see a team; I see a ticking time bomb. I mean, you've got their mysterious leader, whose illegal HypMics have caused more damage in a year than Chuohku's probably done in a lifetime, if that's possible, a naive little kid who's living in a fantasy world, and a butler who's probably cleaning up more messes than just spilled tea."

"They're like characters out of some twisted fairy tale, each with their own baggage and secrets. And let me tell you, secrets: they have a way of spilling out in the worst ways, possible. Sure, they might have some skills, but it takes more than that to make it in the D.R.B. It's about trust, unity, and knowing who's got your back. And with a lineup like that? I'd be watching my back every damn second."

"But hey, who knows? They might surprise me, though I seriously doubt it. When push comes to shove, I bet they'll scatter like leaves in the wind. And if they think they can step up to MIHANASA, they better be ready to bring more than just a fancy name and a couple of tricks. We're not just a team; we're family. And we fight like one."

[amelia-jane-writes]

Sometimes I'm okay pt1

Sorry if this sucks, it's my first work on here. Also its set during that episode in season 2 where Derek's in jail.

tw: swearing, jail, mentions of death ig

Derek Morgan was in deep shit.

First off, he had been in Chicago for the past few days and hadn't came to say hello to you at all. In fact, he seemed to have been avoiding your area of town all together. Secondly, he was sat in a prison cell.

The first point could be explainable. You'd had an argument before he left last year. You weren't in the wrong, but maybe you hadn't been in the right either. He just wanted you to move with him to wherever it was that he lived. To this day you still didn't know why you'd said no.

You had walked very calmly -not at all- right up to where Carl was conversing with the detective.

"Where in the hell is he?" You asked. The detective didn't like me much, but he didn't like many of the kids in the area.

"Alright, just wait one second lady, you can't just storm in here and start demanding things."

You just rolled your eyes, knoeing that the detective owed you. "I want to see him."

Carl spoke up. "I understand that you're upset, we all are. I mean, Derek never seemed like the kind to do this."

You stared at him for what felt like a god few minutes but in reality was just a couple of seconds.

"Carl you listen to me, you are ten times more likely to have murdered those boys than he is." You turned back to the detective, ignoring the burning feeling of eyes on your back. "And I said that I wanted to see him."

"I'll see what can be done."

He walked away, using his brain for once. You turned towards the group of people eying your back, not at all in the mood to be dealing with cops.

"The hell are you staring at?"

A few of them made themselves look busy, as if they hadn't been staring. A tall lady with dark hair came closer though, and asked, "Do you know Derek Morgan?"

"You could say that. Why? Who are you?"

"I'm Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I'm on the same team as Morgan in the FBI. If you could tell us anything that would help with proving his innocence then that would be amazing."

"I can't tell you anything darling, just that the detective knows damn well that it wasn't Derek."

Anything she would have said then was cut off by the detective returning, grabbing you arm and saying, "Five minutes. Make it fast."

You stepped into the interrogation room, it was a few degrees colder than the outside, and spotted Derek sat against the wall.

"Derek." It would've been comical how he jumped but instead it was just concerning since he was FBI. He quickly stood up and came towards you, but stopped himself before he got too close.

"(Y/N)," He said and you couldn't tell if the tone in his voice was one of relief or something else, something more panicked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Better question Derek, why are you sat in a cell? And I only have five minutes so you better make it fast."

He sighed running a hand across his face. "They think I killed those boys. Happy? Now get out."

"No. I also want to know why the hell you've been coating me for the past year. Like I know that we argued but Jesus."

"I was busy. The FBI doesn't give many days off. Besides im sure this placce hasnt been too bad. How's life treating you here in dear Chicago baby? Hmm? Bet you wish you'd taken me up on my offer now."

You took a step closer to him. That hurt a bit. He knew exactly why you needed to get out of here and it was the people. You hated them. In truth, you did wish that you'd moved wish him and away from here, but you would never admit that.

"You're being very mean to me today Derek. Why's that?"

He just sighed again before coming closer and whispering, "Come on, you know that that detective will spin anything he can to get you arrested. This? You're plotting what to do since I got caught."

You didn't speak for a moment, no words were needed. Then, "Who do you think it was?"

He just looked at you in a way that told you everything you needed to know. "They're trying to dig into my past baby. You can't let them."

You hesitated, tripping over your words and bringing up a hand to rest on his cheek. "Maybe, just maybe, it'll help."

"(Y/N). Please. Help me out here."

"So what do you want me to do? Stick around or get out of here."

He smiled even though it wasn't funny. "Just stick around. Ask them if you can help then go home. I'll drop by when I get out. I promise."

"You gotta pinkie promise or it isn't trustworthy."

He grinned, this time he seemed happier, and held out his hand with an extended pinkie and you hooked mine with his. Then a guard came back into the room and told you that you had to leave.

You smiled back at Derek then followed the guard, with a backwards glance to try see him through closing doors.

Pt2 soon

[teaandfiction-28]

Happy Saturday everyone! 💛

Hope you're all keeping well.

Chapter 17 of Turn Back Time is almost ready to share but, in the meantime, here's a little teaser of what's to come!

“Were my instructions not clear Detective?”

Kate slowly turned on her heel at the interruption, coming face to face with none other than Brian Kelton who had seemingly appeared out of thin air behind her. 

“Sir?” She answered, the respectful salutation feeling sour on her tongue.

“I ordered your Sergeant to charge this boy so imagine my surprise to discover you’re out wasting valuable CPD resources trying to secure him a deal.” He replied and Kate had to force down a snort of amusement at the thought of this idiot successfully ordering Hank to do anything at all! 

“He was protecting his mother. It’s the right thing.” Kate explained with an easy shrug but her cool indifference did nothing but infuriate Kelton further.

“I don’t care!” He snarled as he stalked towards her like a raging hippo, shoving desks aside in a fit of temper that sent the picture frames and stationary on Kim’s desk tumbling to the floor with a clatter.

“So what? We’re in the business of jailing victims now?” Kate asked simply, casually folding her arms across her chest as he continued to approach her, entirely unaffected by his childish display.

“Listen to me Detective. I don’t give a damn who you screw on your personal time.” Kelton hissed, his face turning an unsightly shade of salmon when Kate rolled her eyes at the predictable barb. “When you put on that badge, you work for me.”

Hailey and Kevin watched on with a mixture of concern and indignant fury as Kate and Kelton stood chest to chest, neither of them willing to back down but eventually Kelton huffed and stalked away, his final barked order to charge the boy muffled by the irritating squeak of his shoes on the floor.

“Bet he’d care if he knew I screwed him on department time.” Kate eventually grumbled once Kelton’s frame disappeared from view, tossing her notepad onto her desk with a sigh. 

“Y’all funny but tha’s jus’ nasty.” Kevin said, glancing down at Kate’s desk with a grimace as if in search for bodily fluids.

“I said department time, not department property. Although having said that…” She said with a mischievous grin. “Mind where you sit on his couch.”

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"RAFFLING FURNITURE TO PAY DEBTS, WRONG," Toronto Star. February 6, 1934. Page 36. --- Hard-Up Offender and Man Who Printed Tickets Get Warning ---- "I'm not going to make an example of the first one, but let all printers take notice of this and stop printing these sort of things," said Magistrate Jones in police court to- day as he withdrew a charge of printing lottery tickets against Harry Edwards. "I think that the one who prints the tickets should be prosecuted just as much as the one who runs the lottery," his worship observed.

Edwards was charged with printing draw tickets for Richard Armstrong. Evidence that he had done so was produced.

On a charge of conducting a lottery, Armstrong was remanded for sentence.

"Armstrong is married and has two children. He was raffling off his furniture to pay his debts," said an officer. He had 1,200 tickets printed and they were to be sold at 25 cents each. None had been sold."

Got Meals For Nothing Obtaining $2 by fraud from Wm. Symonds, resulted in John Brooks being sent to jail for three months. "He said he worked for a certain firm, and on the strength of the cheque he was going to get, he would go to boarding houses and get a meal," said Detective Johns. "He would say he wanted board and lodging, but he would have supper and not return.

"Guilty," pleaded Fred B. Jeffries, charged with the theft of a bicycle. "I sold it." he admitted, "but I don't know to whom." He had a long list of previous theft convictions.

"We will make it three to twelve months this time." said the magistrate.

No Funds For Cheque M. Sherman was charged with obtaining goods to the value of $11 from a department store by false pretences. He was remanded a week in custody.

"He gave us a cheque for goods," said a store detective. "We sent it to the bank and found there was no account."

"We will need another two months for this case," said Crown Attorney C. L. Snyder, referring to Percy Laurence, charged with criminal negligence. Accused was remanded until April 6 on $2,000 bail. Complainant. It was brought out, was in a plaster cast as a result of his Injuries.

Found Betting Slips "I entered a butcher store on Yonge St. last Thursday," said an officer. "I found a number of bet- ting slips. McKechnie said he had never made a bet in his life."

"He meant he had never held a bet in his life," said Austin Ross, counsel for Robert McKechnie, charged with recording bets or wagers. "Some friends came in and he placed bets for them. He never got any commission; all he got was this trouble."

"Well, how did the police come to go there?" queried the bench. "That's the milk in the cocoanut the n*gger in the woodpile," replied counsel.

"Well, it is the first butcher I have had," observed the magistrate. "so I will fine him $10."

Alleged to have struck Fong Soon over the head with a metal pipe, Fong Foo Hung, 44. Queen St.. was charged with wounding and was remanded until February 13.

Given Time to Settle Charged with theft of about $101 from B. L. Anderson Co., Robert Bowden was remanded until Feb. 13. "He collected insurance premiums and failed to turn in the proceeds," stated a company official.

Accused was given the week to make restitution.

Cute, Says Crown Attorney "I think that the steamship company are to blame for bringing such men here, especially during these times," said W. G. Sewell, counsel for Stanislaw Gwizd and Adam Forgat, charged with obtaining relief by fraud. "We can blame most of the trouble to their ignorance. They have a very low mentality."

"I think that is your best argument." remarked the magistrate. "I'll make it 30 days instead of the usual 90."

"I am not so sure about their low mentality." said the crown attorney. "These foreigners are about the cutest people there are." The charge was that Gwizd had a regular job and was also registered for relief, and also city relief work. Unable to leave his job, he gave Forgat his identification cards and car, and Forgat, acting as Gwizd, got the relief. The proceeds being split.

Sniffed Policemen "I smelled whiskey on the officer's breath, and when they took me to the station they beat me up." claimed Joseph Brett, an alleged "vag," in early court to-day. Brett was picked up by P.C. Ramsay and P.C. Stillwell last night at 8 o'clock on Castlefield Ave. His home, he said, was on York St.

"He was wandering aimlessly back and forth, peering into parked cars." testified an officer. "He said he was on his way to see a man on Strathailan Blvd. about a job, but he was going in the opposite direction."

"I haven't had a steady job for years," said Brett.

"Where did you get the money in your pocket?" queried Inspector Guthrie. "It was money I loaned to friends and that they were paying back to me."

"What, in nickels and dimes?" asked the inspector. "They weren't all nickels and dimes; I had a quarter." Brett protested. He was fined $10 or 10 days by Magistrate Tinker.

Stole While Begging John Hall, convicted of vagrancy, was sent to jail for 30 days. "I was watching him at Dufferin St. and St. Clair." said P.C. Gardiner. "I saw him stop a man and attempt to sell him there." producing a pair of candlesticks. I found that he had stolen them from J. Bradbury." "He came into my store and asked for a quarter," said Bradbury. "Then he lifted those articles."

John Thompson, caught "pan-handling" in a big hotel, was fined $10 or 10 days. "I had a license to peddle there," he said. "Only I forgot to take my goods."

Wilfred Knight was drunk-again. Ten dollars or ten days.

For begging from door to door on Davisville Ave., Alexander Hutton and Louis Davis were each fined $10 and costs or 30 days.

Has Two Residences "This is a case of a man having two residences and I'm satisfied I have no case against him." said J. A. Marshall, crown counsel, when Anthony Lanni was arraigned in liquor and traffic court on a charge of having liquor in an illegal place. Magistrate Browne withdrew the charge. "Watch your step," Mr. Marshall cautioned Lanni.

The court accepted a plea of guilty of "having" from Doris LaFrance, jointly charged with Mike Kornuta. They were alleged to have kept liquor for sale at 68 Pearl St. Kornuta was discharged.

Mr. Marshall explained that to prove a charge of keeping for sale he would be forced to cal a witness previously disapproved by Magistrate Browne, "Under these circumstances. I will be content with a plea of guilty to having," he stated.

Officers swore they found 17 quarts of beer and three part bottles of whiskey. Since January the permits seized by police revealed purchases of 228 bottles of beer and 27 quarts of spirits. Doris LaFrance was fined $100 and costs.

Hotel Owner Fined Mary Allan was assessed $200 and costs or three months for having liquor illegally in a Queen St. E. hotel. Her husband was discharged.

Police visited the hotel, which accused owns, and found a quantity of beer that had not been purchased on their permit.

[sadrockandwaltzes]

Saw 3D pt2

Mark Hoffner is seriously Light Yagami

The fact that this many people have found out he's a phony because of sloppy work, witnesses, or more and he's STILL not in jail- in fact he got promoted to head of the kira- sorry, Jigsaw- investigation team is so bloody ridiculous! I can't find this series scary because it's so illogical and unrealistic that it reads like scifi or literally Death note, where there's a magic notebook to kill people.

But more realistically, there's no single L. There are many brilliant detectives, but in their line of work, they don't make it, and the torch gets passed to another brave and righteous individual.

On an unrelated note, love that one of the victims of Jigsaw's puritanical doctrine was put there for crimes against humanity (read: racism). But just like Kira's discriminating indescriminant murders, no one is safe from Jigsaw's 'justice'... Rather than whether or not someone has earned the right to live, let's talk about what is a cherished life, and what isn't a crime in his mind! I don't know about you, but someone who spends all their time designing death traps for people sure doesn't seem like someone who's properly living and enjoying/cherishing their life. It also depends for everyone! Not everyone has the same idea of what a good or fulfilling life is, because everyone wants something different out of life. I bet he'd say someone who's a thrill seeker is putting themself in danger and therefore not taking care of/cherishing life, but someone who avoids risk isn't fully living, and is wasting their life. Make up your mind, Light!!

(Oof funny. All the members of team murder were fighting over who was the heir to John's Elimination Empire, but of all the children, it went to the one no one expected- Gordon)

AHHHH NOT GORDON ENTERING INTO THE ROOM WITH ADAM'S SKELETON AND NOT EVEN LOOKING AT HIM ONCE!!! LOOK AT MY BOY!!! YOU LEFT HIM HERE!!!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!!!!!!!😢 I didn't really expect anything better, but it still hurts... He promised... Adam deserved so much better...

[cozycrimesolving]

Trust (Jimmy Palmer x Reader oneshot)

I couldn't think of a better title oh no

Other relationships: Tony DiNozzo & Reader, Jethro Gibbs & Tony Dinozzo

Warning: Violence and slightly gruesome implications (nothing you wouldn't see/hear on the show), also some bits might not be super realistic and a little cliche but i mean they were fun to imagine lol Note: This is an AU where Tony's still a homicide detective and the reader is his partner. Everything else is pretty much the same. Set sometime around season 2 since Jimmy is working at NCIS. also, (F/N) = full name wheeew this one went on longer than I intended. hope you have fun! ------------------

THUD!

  Jimmy flinched and stared at the evidence that was slammed into the desk in front of him. The young detective across the table glared into his eyes and spread the pictures and info out for Jimmy to see. With all they had against him, Jimmy admitted to himself that it looked bad.

  “So, Jimmy Palmer,” the detective said. “I’m Detective Anthony DiNozzo. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but considering you killed a man, it’s really not. Now, it’s really late and I’d like to go home and catch an airing of Top Gun so let’s not waste time.”

  Jimmy recalled what Agent Gibbs told him. 

“Don’t say a word, Palmer!” Gibbs said, “When they say they can and will use anything you say against you, they mean it.” 

 “Using your right to remain silent, eh?” Detective DiNozzo asked. “Why don’t I go first then? It says here your occupation is… ah, right, you’re an autopsy gremlin. Bet that gives you a pretty good knowledge of the human body and ways to kill someone, doesn’t it, Palmer?” 

  Jimmy shifted in his seat as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. 

  “Did you get tired of the criminals who get to live? Decide to take matters into your own hands? Bet you just couldn’t take it when Dirk walked free after everything he did to those poor families. You were disgusted and angry, rightfully so I admit, but in a lapse of judgement,” Tony slammed his hands on the table and Jimmy near jumped out of his skin, “You grabbed him and cut into an artery with this!” 

    Jimmy couldn’t help but stare at the scalpel thrown in front of him. 

  “Was that your idea of justice, Palmer? Did you enjoy watching him bleed out until he crumbled in front of you like a dry twig?”

  Jimmy swallowed and forced himself to look anywhere but at Tony. Sick butterflies were swarming in his stomach, and he knew the color draining from his face wasn’t doing him any favors. He knew Gibbs would try his best to get him out of this, but with all the evidence, could Jimmy really blame him if things didn’t work out and Jimmy ended up in jail?

   Another startling thought occurred to him. If he did go to jail, could he even survive an hour, let alone however many years he was sentenced? What if he was put away for life? Isn’t it bad news if you’re law enforcement? What if his cellmate was someone he’d helped put away? What if all the people there were people he helped put away? What if he was executed!?

   Jimmy was snapped out of his thoughts when another detective entered the room and whispered something in Tony’s ear. Jimmy was mesmerized in an instant. He wasn’t sure if it was just his current lack of emotional stability, but he couldn’t help but stop and think she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Something about her very presence was comforting. 

   She must be the good cop, he thought, 

 DiNozzo sighed. “(Y/N), stay with this guy. I’ll take care of his boss.” 

   As Tony got up to leave, Jimmy couldn’t hide that he felt a bit relieved.

 “Hi. I’m Detective (F/N),” she said, “I’d like to ask you a few more questions while my partner talks to your boss.” When Jimmy said nothing, she continued, “Gibbs seems like an honorable man. If he trusts you, there must be something to it. Care to explain your side of the story, Mr. Palmer?”

   “Not a word!” Gibbs’ voice echoed in Jimmy’s mind. 

  “Uhm, well,” Jimmy heard himself say, “I, I-I had heard a commotion, and, uhm, when I got there, he- he was already stabbed. I-I only kneeled down to, to try and help him. That’s all! He was bleeding out, I had to do something.”

   (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as she looked into his eyes. Jimmy felt different butterflies in his stomach and scolded himself for having a crush at a time like this. 

  “You wanted to help him?”

 Jimmy, against the mini Gibbs’ protest in his head, replied, “See, uhm, I’m in med school and I-I wanna be a doctor. We, we don’t label our patients as ‘good guy’ or ‘bad guy’... A patient is a patient no matter who they are or what they’ve done.”

  The detective seemed to be considering his answer. “I see.” She bit her lip and studied the evidence in the table. Jimmy noticed a familiar look of doubt and hesitation on her face, one he often wore at work despite Doctor Mallard’s reassurance that his input mattered. Then, that look was replaced by one of shock as she stopped at one of the crime scene photos.  

  Wow, her eyes were breathtaking.

  “Call me crazy,” she whispered, “but… I think I believe you.”

———————

  Meanwhile, Tony came face to face with an angry, silver-haired man at the front desk. Tony introduced himself and decided to go straight to business. “Sir-“

 “Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I want my man released,” the older man said before Tony could finish.

 “Well, ‘Special Agent Gibbs’, I’m sure as a navy cop you’ve got good judgement but I’m not releasing your man just because you ask. I want to see his innocence in big blinking letters.” Tony made what he thought to be blinking motions with his hands. “As much as I respect a brother in law enforcement, I can’t ignore that my gut tells me your guy is involved somehow.”

   Gibbs seemed almost amused. “Oh yeah, Detective?”

  “Yeah, and your guy isn’t going to be released until we can figure out just what it is he knows, so you can march yourself on out of here and let the ‘little guys’ handle this. I don’t think this quite counts as your jurisdiction anyways.”

  Gibbs didn’t answer right away. Tony could read a hint of concern on the man’s face as he stared past him, toward where Jimmy was held. “Your gut telling you he’s guilty?”

  It was Tony’s turn to take a moment to answer. “If he’s innocent, I’ll make sure the kid gets back to you, I promise.”

   There it was again, something that seemed like amusement in the older man’s eyes. Tony didn’t know what to make of it. 

 “You keep him safe, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said. “He’s a good kid.”

    ———————

  “You- you believe me?” Jimmy asked with hopeful eyes. 

  (Y/N) bit her lip in concentration again. She squinted at something in one of the photos, then looked over Jimmy’s personal file. “We may have overlooked something when we arrested you. You were pretty distracting,” she thought out loud as her lack of experience in interrogations began to show.

  Jimmy felt flustered. He didn’t hear much of what she said for the next few seconds. A beautiful woman found him distracting? He knew what she really meant by that and shuddered to remember the girlish screams he had made during the arrest, but he also knew he was crushing hard and that meant his intelligence was dropping fast. “You can’t have a schoolboy crush on someone who’s about to arrest you, Palmer!” Gibbs shouted in his head. “If I could slap your head I would!”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Jimmy said out loud without thinking.

  (Y/N) looked up. “Pardon?”

  “Uhm!” Jimmy felt his face flush. “I-I- th- uh-“ he tried to get his dumb, mouth to speak, “No- uhm- what, what were you saying?”

 Jimmy heard the cutest soft giggle he’d ever heard. “I was saying I noticed how many cases you helped close already and I was impressed by your career?”

   Jimmy died a little. He must have looked like an arrogant fool. “Oh! Uhm!”

   She smiled, “don’t worry, I could tell you spaced out. I think you may be innocent.”

  “What- why?”

  “Well, call it a stretch, but you’re right-handed, and his injury looks more consistent with a left-handed assailant. Plus, you just…” She paused and looked him in the eye. He felt like he was gonna melt into a puddle. “You don’t have the eyes of a man who just killed someone.”

   Jimmy sputtered out gibberish. Before he could say actual words, Tony swung the door open.

 “(Y/N), let’s talk,” Tony said and nodded towards the hall behind him. 

  (Y/N) offered Jimmy a small, apologetic smile and followed Tony outside. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jimmy let his face hit the table with a soft thud in exasperation.

————————

 “What do you think?” Tony asked once they were alone.

 (Y/N) considered her answer. “He didn’t do it. If he has any involvement, it’s not intentional on his part.”

 Tony sighed. (Y/N) could tell he had more to say, but instead he studied the floor. He leaned back against the wall and stayed in thought for a moment. “Okay,” he said with a light shrug. “What do you think we should do?”

  The younger detective’s eyes widened. “You’re asking me?”

 “Well,” Tony said with a small grin, “you are my partner. As much as I like working solo, when you have a team, you work as a team. You haven’t bounced an idea around in a while and any good detective needs experience. So, what do you think we should do?”

  “I don’t, I don’t know. Did you talk to his boss?”   Tony didn’t miss the deflection, but he still answered, “Yep. Says he’s a good kid. I see it too, but unless we can prove otherwise, I don’t think ‘he’s a good kid’ is gonna work any wonders with a judge.” (Y/N) nodded. “Good point.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “ Actually, I did see something… it’s not much, but I noticed that the victim's injuries are consistent with a left-handed suspect, not right-handed. Palmer’s right-handed. Also, I studied the crime scene photos and there's some things I want to double check on.”

Tony nodded, “Good enough for me. We can go check it out now.”

 “Shouldn’t one of us stay with the suspect?” (Y/N) asked.

 “I’m sure we’ll be in and out, and is he really a flight risk? I mean, kid seems too scared to move. Even if he did, I think he'd be comparable to Bambi.” He shrugged and began to walk away. “You can check on him. I’ll meet you in the car. Could ya bring the copies of the photos?”

(Y/N) realized her hands were empty. “Oh! I left them in the interrogation room! I’ll be right back.”

 “Hey, (Y/N),” Tony said as he stopped and turned around. “I just want you to know trust you, okay? I want to hear from you, and you're a good partner. I know your history and I also know that you’re a good cop. If you need time, then fine, go take time, but if you’re gonna keep being my partner, try to make it a team effort, ‘kay? Throw your ideas around like uh…” He turned again to go, but didn’t leave before finishing with, “like stories at a campfire!”   - - - - - Jimmy’s head was still on the table when (Y/N) walked back in. “Mr. Palmer?”

 He jumped in his seat and lifted his head to see the young detective. “It’s okay! I never get sick! I was only on the table for a second, I’ll take vitamins!” “Excuse me?”

 Jimmy was screaming inside. “S-Sorry, no, I meant, uh, I’m ready for more, um, interrogation!” “I’m actually just here to grab these files. Shouldn’t have left them here in the first place.”   “Uh, let me help!” Though still handcuffed, Jimmy reached for the files and attempted to scoop them up for her, which of course ended up in him dropping the files and then trying to pick them up off the floor. Despite (Y/N) saying it really was fine, he still tried and in all the fuss, he hit his head on the table. With a short cry and a hiss he dropped all the papers and winced. (Y/N) winced with him, “Are you okay? I can get ice from the break room.”

  “No no no no no,” he said, “That’s, that’s fine! Just a little bump. Maybe a bruise. Nothing, nothing serious!” “If you’re sure,” (Y/N) said. “Would you like me to at least uncuff you? I don’t think you’re a danger, except maybe to the table.”

  And to my own pride, Jimmy groaned in his thoughts. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

  (Y/N) slipped a key out of her pocket and walked to his side of the table. She came closer. Jimmy felt himself blushing again as he felt her smaller, gentle hands on his large shaky ones. His gaze then found her face and it wasn’t long until he was lost in her eyes again. For a few sweet seconds, he forgot he’d been arrested and couldn’t stop a huge goofy grin from spreading on his face. 

  “There,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait, Detective, can I say something?” Jimmy asked before he knew what he was doing.

  She stopped and looked back at him. “Yes?”

 “Um, thank you. Thank you for believing me. I, I feel better knowing that, that a good detective like, li-like you is trying to help me. I really do.”

  Jimmy noticed a hint of a smile on her face and the faintest blush on her cheeks. 

 “I’ll do my best.” 

———————

  It had all happened so fast. (Y/N) shrank behind a wall and noted in dismay that she only had two shots left. Should’ve reloaded when I had the chance, she scolded herself. Heavy footsteps began to approach her and she felt panic rise inside her chest.

  “Hey,” Tony whispered beside her. “You’re gonna be fine.”

 “Tony,” she all but begged, “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m sorry I got us in this mess.”

  The footsteps drew nearer.

  “Look at me.”

  (Y/N) looked at her partner. Despite the quick first aid, his arm still bled from being grazed by a bullet. She knew there was no way they could’ve known the actual murderer would be crazy enough to show up at the crime scene so soon, but somehow she still felt guilty. For a few seconds, it wasn’t Tony she saw bleeding out in front of her. The world started to get blurry. 

  “(Y/N)!” Tony called in a harsh whisper. “(Y/N)! I’m okay! I’m okay! You’re not gonna lose me too. I don’t regret trusting you and neither did your old partner, but I need you to stay with me, okay? You can do this, trust me.”

  She opened her eyes again. Just before the murderer rounded the corner, (Y/N) heard another voice in her mind.

   “Um, thank you. Thank you for believing me. I, I feel better knowing that, that a good detective like, li-like you is trying to help me. I really do.” 

   BANG!

   (Y/N) rose back to the top of her game and jumped in front of Tony just in time. She landed her two shots and the suspect fell to the ground in a heap, crazed eyes wide. 

  (Y/N) panted. She began to feel cold and dizzy and her stomach hurt. 

 Tony reached out to catch her before she hit the ground. “(Y/N)! (Y/N) you’re gonna be okay!” He wasted no time in calling an EMT. However, he knew that they could very well be too late. Despair twisted his gut.

 “D-Detective!?” Another voice called.

 Tony’s head shot up to see Jimmy Palmer and his boss running towards them. There was no time to question it. “(Y/N)’s shot bad!” His eyes begged them for help before his mouth needed to.

  Gibbs nodded, “Palmer, you stay here. I’ll grab the kit!”

  Jimmy shifted gears and focused on (Y/N)‘s injuries. “Bullet went through?”

  Tony nodded.

 “Okay, we need to apply pressure,” Jimmy said, his voice almost devoid of emotion as he focused. He slipped off his shirt without a thought and pressed it against her abdomen. Tony put his sweater on the exit wound. 

  When Gibbs came back with a med kit, Jimmy did everything he could to keep (Y/N) afloat until she could be taken to a hospital. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered, “I-I promise I’m doing everything I can. Please just hold on, okay?”

  “Mhmm,” (Y/N) slurred.

  While Jimmy tended to (Y/N), Gibbs looked at Tony. “You good?”

 “It’s just a graze,” Tony muttered. “He better save my partner. She’s a good kid too.”

  Gibbs nodded. Sirens blared in the distance. “She’ll be alright.”

  ———————

  Days later, (Y/N) woke up to a knock at her hospital room’s door. “Yeah, come in,” she called to the best of her ability. 

  The first thing she noticed when her visitor walked in was familiar brown curls. Jimmy held a fluffy teddy bear up for her to see. “The-the uh, the gift shop was kinda limited,” he said, “this was the best I could do.”

 “You didn’t have to,” she said, though she accepted the bear with a smile. “And you didn’t have to keep visiting.”

Jimmy paused just as a nurse walked in to check on (Y/N)'s vitals. It didn't take long to do, but even in that little time and, the nurse caught the quick glances between the two and sensed there was something being left unsaid.

��Honey,” the nurse said, “your boyfriend here has been asking and asking about you and has been nothing but sweet to everyone here. You found yourself a devoted and kind man. Just thought you should know.”

   Jimmy felt his face go bright red. 

 “Oh, he’s not…” (Y/N) blushed as well, “we’re not together.”

  The nurse smiled as she finished up. “Well you better act fast then before someone steals your chance.”

  A short but awkward silence followed after the nurse left. 

 “Uh... Tony told me what happened,” (Y/N) said after the awkwardness died down. “Thank you for doing what you did for me.”

  “Oh, um, don’t mention it! I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

   (Y/N) offered him a grateful smile. Jimmy’s heart felt like it was going to explode. 

  “When, when you, uh, get out of here,” he rushed to say, “would you, maybe, uh, maybe, do you wanna go… hang out with me?” He winced at how lame he thought he sounded.

  (Y/N) smile never dropped. “I think I’d like that, Jimmy.”

  He loved the way his name sounded from her mouth. He couldn’t help the huge smile that spread on his face. 

  “(Y/N), you’re awake again!” Tony called from behind Jimmy. “Good to see you, kid.”

  “You too. I’m glad you’re okay.” She waved to Tony, despite the pain that came from the movement. As she watched her partner wave back, she noticed someone behind him. “Tony, is that Agent Gibbs?”

   “Ah.” Tony turned around to glance at Gibbs and nodded. “Yeah… there’s something I need to talk to you about.” He looked at Jimmy. “Mind if I have a more private word with my partner?”

   Jimmy shook his head. “Go ahead. I’ll, uhm, get out of your way.”

(Y/N) and Jimmy exchanged one more glance that lingered longer than either of them would care to admit.

   Once Jimmy left, Tony sat himself down on a couch held up his hands to motion as he talked. “You were right, you know. About the M.E. kid? He was used as a cover. The murder weapon was from a dissection kit we found in the bushes and fingerprints and DNA proved the kid's innocence. Palmer really fancies you, and not without reason." Tony paused to let (Y/N) soak the information. He had to stifle a laugh when he saw the gears turn and she became visibly sheepish at that last sentence he uttered. "Shucks, Tony," (Y/N) joked. "Anyway, ‘Special Agent Gibbs’ said he was impressed with both of us. So impressed, in fact,” Tony said as he slipped out a piece of paper from his jacket, “that he’s offered us a job.”

   (Y/N)’s eyes went wide. “Both of us?”

  “I couldn’t leave my partner now, could I?” Tony flashed a signature grin as (Y/N) stared in disbelief. “You wanna be a navy cop with me? All you gotta do to seal the deal is sign, apparently. Oh, and hey, Palmer works there.” 

   A light blush spread on (Y/N)’s cheeks. “Okay? Why do you mention that?”

  The knowing twinkle in Tony’s eyes was impossible to miss. “Oh, I think you know.”

[write-orflight]

The Fraction of Innocence.

**Gif Not Mine**

Anon Requested: 10, 16, and 25 for the smutty prompts thing!!!

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you donna do about it?’

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

25: “she may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors she’s hand cuffs and gags.”

Pairings: SpencerXReader

Rating: M, (This is very explicit.)

Words: 4K

Warnings: NSFW!!! 18+ (Dom!Spencer, BDSM overtones, sexual conduct, fingering, bondage, etc.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Spencer thinks Y/N is an innocent, naive girl until a case reveals her extracurricular activities. 

Spencer had been back from jail for 2 months when he first met her. 

At first he didn’t think anything of her, other than the faint smell of vanilla and daisy as she walked past him in the bullpen and the bright smile that seemed to take up half her face. She was carrying files close to her chest like a schoolgirl late to class and the skirt of her white dress bellowed softly behind her as she made her way to Emily’s office.  

“Who is that?” He had asked. 

Luke looked up to where Spencer’s gaze was. “Oh, that’s Y/N, she's a tech analyst helping Penelope out right now. She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”  

It doesn’t take Spencer long after that to decide he, in fact, does not like you. There was nothing wrong with you. Luke was right, you were sweet, almost sickeningly so. It was like you had no concept of reality. You lived in this world of all sunshine and good things despite the horror that crossed your screen daily. And while Penelope was the same, she at the very least knew how bad the world could be and chose to see the good in it. You didn’t, it was like you’d never had a single bad thing happen to you. And Spencer, who had been dealt the bad hand so many times in life hated that. 

It also didn’t help that you were gorgeous too. You looked like an artist sculpted you himself to make the perfect woman. Real People weren’t supposed to look like that. Real people were supposed to have flaws and blisters. Real people were supposed to look tired so early in the morning not fully awake and smiling while handing everyone in the office a coffee. He didn’t understand how you could be real.   

“Here you go, Spencer. Americano lots of sugar.” You said, placing the coffee on his desk. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles. 

“We have a case, by the way.” You giggle, going off to hand Luke his coffee before walking away to the conference room. Spencer was barely able to keep his eye roll at bay. 

Luke sees that and laughs, clapping Spencer on the back. “Come on, kid. Play nice.” 

“She’s giggling about a murder case.” Spencer grumbles before following him into the conference room. 

“3 women have been murdered in Queens. Judging by the scars, they were all bound and strangled before finally being dumped in an alley.” Garcia says, as she goes through the slides, showing the crime scenes. “Police need our help finding the connection between these three women because right now, it looks like there is none.” 

“I’d say.” Tara speaks up. “We have a waitress/student, a doctor, and a paralegal. All living in different areas of the city with virtually no reason to interact.” 

Spencer looks down at his file, examining the picture when he notices something. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you clear your throat.  

“Umm, Emily?” You say from your seat right across from Spencer. Emily looks up inquisitively at you. “I think I know what connects them.” 

“What’s that, Y/N?” Emily asks, raising a brow at her.  

You clear your throat again. “Victim #2, Rebecca Belfront, has a Padlock collar necklace on in her second picture. That’s typically used to indicate she’s a submissive with a committed dominant partner. But she wasn’t wearing it when her body was found which makes me think that that relationship recently ended. That made me look at the marks on their arms. While there are some new ones from the murders, they all have faded marks around the wrist and body as well. Leads me to believe the bounding was er-... consensual. We should probably look into New York’s BDSM scene.” You close, smiling awkwardly. 

Spencer looks at you in shock. He, of course, had come to the same conclusion you did and had been about to say that but he, at least, knew why he knew that. Why did you know that? 

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. Do you mind coming to NY with us? Your insight might be needed.” 

You look kind of shocked at that but nod. “Of course, whatever I can do to help.” You say, softly. 

“Great, Wheels up in 30.” She says, getting up, effectively ending the meet. Spencer watches you speed after her, files in hand to ask some more questions. Spencer’s walking back to his desk when Luke catches up with him. 

“Y/N has a dark side. Who knew?” He says, smirking. 

“Probably not.” Spencer muses. “She could’ve just known that. I mean, I  just know stuff sometimes too.” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Her body language gave her away. She was flushing and stuttering sure, but she was confident in what she was saying. Almost as if, she was speaking from experience.” Luke laughs. “She may be all lollipops and candy bars here, but I bet behind closed doors, she’s handcuffs and gags.”  

Spencer hums. “Maybe.” He says looking up to watch you walk back across the catwalk from Prentiss’ office. Luke was right though, your body language did give you completely away that you were talking from experience. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder just how much. 

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

When you arrive in New York, You head straight from the jet to the Police Station in Queens. You fiddle with your thumbs a bit, you are nervous. 

“You ok?” Spencer says, from his spot in front of the bulletin board he was setting up. You were supposed to be helping him but you knew Spencer was particular about some things so you let him do it. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d let Spencer do. With you, to you, you weren’t picky. The man was gorgeous enough to make you nervous. With his lean muscles, long, fluffy hair, and large hands, he looked like something that walked right out of a wet dream of yours. Which sometimes, he was just that. You weren’t stupid though, you knew Spencer didn’t think of you that way. In fact, you didn’t think Spencer thought of you in any way. He seemed to ignore you anyway he could. 

You look up from your laptop. “Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m just...nervous. I’ve never been in the field.” 

“Chances are you won’t be, Emily will probably keep you in the Station if she can help it.” Spencer provides. 

“I know, it’s just-- you know what I mean.” You say, Spencer nods before returning to the bulletin board. You stand to look at the map with him. “So, from what I was able to find there’s only 3 BDSM clubs in Queens but there’s only one in the middle of where the three women were found. Place called Cat’s Cradle.” 

Spencer hums. “How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” You look up at the man, recognizing the quote.  

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” You say back, shrugging. 

“You read Vonnegut?” He asks. 

“You said that like you’re more surprised that I can read than what I read being Vonnegut.” You say, Spencer shrugs not even denying it. God, he was such a dick sometimes. A hot dick, but a dick nonetheless. 

The two of you turn when you hear a knock at the door to see the lead detective coming in to check on you guys. “Just wanted to see how things were coming along. Also see if you guys needed anything?” Though he only directed the question at you with a sly smirk on his face. Men were so obvious sometimes. 

“Nope, we’re fine.” You smile although you didn’t want to. “We’ve narrowed down to a couple BDSM clubs so hopefully we’ll catch our guy soon.” 

“Wait, you think these girls were…” He trails off. You nod, knowing what he was thinking. “Well, it probably serves them right.” 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

“Listen, I know what kind of girls go into those kinds of clubs. If they want to be sexual deviants, they can’t be surprised when shit like this happens to them.” He gestures to the board. 

“Actually more women are into Dominant/Submissive as well as BDSM relationships than you would think, statistically 85%.” Spencer cuts him off. “These clubs are just commonplace for them to meet like minded people just like you would do in any other club and they should be put on trial after their deaths for trusting the wrong person. If you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work, Detective.” He says, turning back towards the board. The man nods and leaves shortly after that. 

“Thank you.” You say, softly. 

“What for?” Spencer asks. 

“Come on, I work with profilers and I’m not stupid. I know you guys know about me so thank you for defending me just now.” 

“I wasn’t defending you.” Spencer says. “He was making inappropriate comments about victims and we don’t need that outdated way of thinking working on this case. Besides…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “You’re not the only one with… unconventional extracurriculars.” He turns and walks out after that leaving you watching after him. 

What? 

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

 After delivering the profile, you find the Unsub, a man named Ivan Parke. The only thing left to do was find the best way to snuff him out. When the team is discussing the next best course of action. It’s then Luke comes up with the idea. 

“We should send Y/N undercover.” He says. “She knows the profile and knows the most about the scene.” 

Emily nods. “Is that something you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

You look up. “Oh, um yea. I’d have to find a different outfit but you have to send someone with me.” You say, everyone looks at you confused so you sigh and explain yourself. “If you send me into a club like this, in a foreign place with no Dom, the Unsub isn’t going to be my only worry. Someone’s going to have to play my dominant.”   

“I’ll do it.” Spencer speaks up. Your eyes widened, you were not expecting Spencer to agree to it, you assumed you’d be stuck with Luke. Now you’re going to have to spend the night with the man you’d been crushing on since you started working with the BAU as his submissive. Like that wasn’t a dream come true. 

“Great.” Emily says, dismissing everyone and handing you an expense credit card for an outfit. You take it and leave immediately, ignoring the sly look Spencer gives you. 

You ended with a short, low-cut black leather dress with tank-like sleeves that showed off your curves and left very little to the imagination. As well as a clear pair of platform heels. You pulled your hair back into a sleek ponytail and you topped the look with your own personal leather choker with a large circle knob in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces to wear though you never really got a chance to wear it unless you were going to clubs, which you didn’t do as often these days. It was an expensive piece sure, but so worth it when you got to wear it. You were doing your makeup a little darker then you usually do in the bathroom when Spencer comes in. 

“Is this how you typically look on the weekends?” He asks, standing behind you in the mirror. You look up to look him in the eyes through it. 

“If I have the time.” You shrug. 

“It’s very different. You’re very different from how I thought you were.” 

“And how did you think I was, Spencer?”

“Naive...innocent.”   

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed anything about me.” You say, turning towards the man. 

“Maybe you’re right… That’s an expensive piece.” He points out pointing to your choker. “Emily’s going to have fun explaining that at the next budgetary hearing.” 

“I didn’t buy it today.” You explain. “It’s mine.” 

Spencer hums for a moment before lifting his hand to turn your jaw, examining the piece. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the contact. Spencer was already so close to you and now he was touching you, it was already starting to be too much. Soon, Spencer is hooking two fingers into the circle knob of your choker and he yanks it. Involuntarily, a whimper falls from your lips, prompting a smirk from the man across from you. 

“Tonight’s going to be fun.” He says before leaving you in the bathroom in a state of shock. 

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

 After getting your comms set up by Luke, who tried to avert his eyes from your frame as much as possible, you and Spencer walk into the Cat’s Cradle. Typically you didn’t like the club scene, but you sometimes liked to venture out when looking for a new partner. Cat’s Cradle was definitely different than the other places you had been. Sure it still had the private rooms and the main stage where a scene was happening in front of you but it was a lot more laid back than the ones you went to in DC. Spencer was really enjoying his role too. Probably hamming it up too much because he knew there was a part of you that actually wanted him to. In the end, finding Ivan Parke was easy. He took the bait almost instantly and you were arresting him just as fast. 

“Great work tonight guys.” Emily says, when you reach the hotel lobby. “Jet’s leaving at 7AM so make sure to get some rest.” She says, dismissing you. 

Now begged a tricky situation because you had almost forgotten you and Spencer were rooming together. As you walked back to the room together the air was thick but both of you were silent. The tension had been building between the two of you since he yanked your choker in the station bathroom. You knew it was a matter of time. The dam had to break. 

“You can shower first.” Spencer says. You nod, taking off your choker and grabbing clothes before taking solace in the bathroom. You wanted Spencer and you knew you needed to expedite this. After a much needed shower, you change into your pajama shorts and tank combo. Spencer steps into the shower almost as soon as you leave it. It’s then that you think of the perfect plan. You lay on the bed and spread your legs before slipping a hand down your shorts. You tease yourself at first, rubbing your clit through your underwear while you thought about the events of the night. How Spencer had been so authoritative. How his hand slid to the small of your back and sometimes ghosted your ass as the two of you walked around the club. How he had been so close in the bathroom. The way he yanked you closer. A small moan escaped you as you slid your hand in your underwear. Soon you hear the bathroom door open. Spencer stops short, watching you before leaning on the frame. 

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer. “Are you gonna to do something about it?” 

“Should I? Instead of telling me what you want you decide to act like a brat and do this.” 

Spencer moves closer to the bed but doesn’t do anything, just continues to watch you so you decide to give him a show. Moaning loudly as you slide a digit inside of you. Spencer looks at you with hooded eyes. You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. 

“I think you’re going to give me what I want.” You say, smirking. 

“And why’s that?” He says. 

“You’re already weak.” You say. 

“I’m weak, pretty girl?” He asks, incredulously. Before you know it, he’s ripping your hand out of your pants and crowding in the space between your legs forcing you to sit up and look at him. “You’re in here touching yourself to the thought of me like a horny teenager and I’m the one who’s weak? Ok.”  He sits back and pulls you by your hips to sit on top of his lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, ok?” He tells you, starting to move your hips. You moan, nodding your head as the friction makes its way through your core. Spencer lifts your shirt off you and smirks when his eyes land on your bare breast. He leans forward to catch your left nipple in his mouth. Your back arches as you grind harder against his thigh. Your hands fly up to start unbuttoning his shirt when he stops you. 

“Did I say you could touch yet, princess?”  He asks. 

“N-No, sir.” You stutter. 

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” He says, putting your hands back to your side. He does indulge you by taking his shirt off himself. But that doesn’t help you keep your hands to yourself. You saw the lean muscle and craved to mark it up with your nails. Your hands go up to touch him again but he stops you. 

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to tie you up, Princess. Just be good, baby.” 

You were already close before but now with Spencer’s hands and mouth everywhere and constant friction on your sex it was damn near pushing you off the edge. 

“I’m gonna come.” You tell him, he grips your hips tighter, lifting his leg slightly so he was only rubbing against your clit. That makes you moan out loudly. 

“Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me.” He says, and that was all you needed to fall right over the edge. Your legs shake and convulse as Spencer grips your hips help you ride it out.  Soon you come down panting and he’s kissing into your neck. He pulls back and grips your jaw. 

“Still think I’m weak, Princess?”  He asks. 

You knew it was unwise. In fact, you tried to stop yourself before you did it but it was too late. You reared your hand back and slapped Spencer across the cheek. Not hard enough to be seen as anything malicious but sharp enough to throw him off, like he couldn’t believe you had done it.  

“Yes I do.” You say looking him in the eyes after. Something like a switch went off because there was no other way to describe the look he gave you other than feral and fully primitive. He pushes you off him. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now.” He says, menacingly. You scramble and run to get into the position. Once in, Spencer forces your knees further apart. He angrily takes his belt off his pants before fashioning them into a makeshift cuff and pulling your wrist so they’re tied behind your back, leaving you face down into the mattress. He slides your shorts and underwear off in one go. You yelp loudly when the first slap comes to your behind. When the second and third slap comes, you try to squeeze your legs together to get some form of friction but Spencer forces your knees further apart. You moan out when you feel a digit slide against your folds. You try to push back on it but Spencer holds your hips in place. 

“P-Please.” you stutter. 

“What do you want, Princess?” He says, sliding a second digit inside you making you cry out more. 

“Please, fuck me, Spencer.” You say, and you really didn’t have to ask twice because almost as soon as you ask Spencer’s hands leave you to finish unbuckling his pants. There’s a brief moment of calm, so calm that you almost think Spencer wasn’t going to give you what you want but that calm is interrupted by Spencer slamming into, no warning. You scream out but that’s only rewarded with your head being shoved more into the mattress to muffle your cries. Spencer’s hands are pulling on your cuffs so he is almost impossibly deep inside you. You moans start to get louder and louder. Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you up so you’re both sitting up, your back against his chest. One of his hands slides to grip around your neck while the other is moving to circle your clit. The hand around your neck tilts your jaw back so you’re looking up at the man behind you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Open your mouth, Princess.” He orders, which you do instantly sticking your tongue out. Spencer leans forward and spits into your waiting mouth before locking his mouth with yours. His hand squeezes your neck tighter as you moan into his mouth as he starts fucking you faster, his dick hitting your g-spot almost every thrust. It’s not long before you’re just babbling, not even able to string a coherent sentence together. 

“You gonna come for me, Princess?” He asks. You nod, moaning loudly. At this point, you knew there was no way the person in the room next to you guys didn’t hear you. You could only hope that it wasn’t one of the team. “Go ahead for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” After that, it doesn’t take long before you’re falling over the edge, shaking all the while. Spencer fucks you through it before tightening his grip on your hips to bend you back forwards so your face is back on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast before falling over the edge himself, moaning your name. 

The two of you say nothing as he unties you. When he does, you instantly flop down on your back, breathing heavily. Spencer wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom. For a moment you think he’s just leaving you like this, that you were foolish to think Spencer cared anything about you but in that moment he comes back with a wet cloth and ointment. He says nothing as he wipes between your legs before tossing the towel aside. You watch him with a smirk on your face as he rubs the ointment on the red marks the red cuffs made on you. 

He looks you in the eye. “What, Y/N?” 

“What happened to Princess?” You say, Spencer just looks at you with a bored expression which only makes you smile more. “Now’s probably a good time for you to ask me to dinner.” 

Spencer chuckles lightly at that. “You don’t want to go to dinner with me.” 

“I’m almost positive I do. Why would you say that?” You ask. 

Spencer looks you in the eyes at that moment. “I’m not-Y/N, I’m not like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“I’m not able to be cheery and smiley. I can’t float into rooms. I can’t be happy like you are, too much has happened to me. You deserve someone happy.” 

“Spencer.” You say, looking him in the eyes. “You are not broken. You can be happy, it’s going to take time sure but I’m willing to be with you through that. If you want that.” You say. 

Spencer nods. “Ok, Y/N.” he smiles. 

“So….?” 

He rolls his eyes at that. “What’re you doing next sunday?” 

You smile, brightly. “Absolutely nothing.”    

Perm. Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

[shuuenka]

TCF BROOKLYN 99 AU

LCF Brooklyn 99 AU (brainrot); 

okay so, this is something i started working on months ago, never finished it, used different artstyle. and figured might put it out anyways so. Enjoy.

(also i dont know much about police and i dont care enough to do research, so this is just for funsies after i finished watching B99)

Cale Henituse:

+detective

+has been training with Choi Jung Soo at police academy, with Lee Soo Hyuk as their instructor. Cale is in Roan St. precinct; they still keep in touch (ha! no Soos dead in this AU!)

+Cale wants his slacker life, after serving enough time in the force

+Cale wants to serve quielty, solving easy cases; but joke's on him, he solves the worst and hardest to solve cases

+often pairs up with Choi Han or Bud, the newbies

+he often ends up in ER if they have some action going, making literally everyone worried

+he has a binder calld ''Cale's road to slacker life'', which was filled with things like med insurances etc. now its filled with children's drawings and photos

+On, Hong and Raon are orphanage kids, that after saving, started hanging out at the sation

Alberu Crossman

+sergeant; aka Sun of Roan St. Station

+his family has long tradition of becoming comissioners and he also aims for this

+usually stays at the station, between mountains of paperwork; sometimes does some fieldwork too

+Alberu and Cale have desks right next to each other, and often drink tea side by side, while gossiping over cookies

+he is both stress baker and workholic and the worse paperwork becomes amount of cookies brought from home rise;

+great shooter, with high accuracy

+great at interviewing suspects, has 99% of confession rate; often plays bad cop-good cop with Cale, roles change and those two bastards have a lots of fun

+has his own teapot and god forbid anyone touching it

+allows kids to draw by his desk while he does paperwork

Bud Illis

+newest to the force, detective

+in perpetual state of wtf since he transferred; because this station is wild

+he is smart but dumb, he is great at finding clues at crime scenes, but aslo looses dumb bets with Cale so

Choi Han:

+newbie detective, but was serving in the army before as sniper; so senior in age but junior in ranks

+sniper

+often confused with step by step detective work, but helps by being intimidating

+saved on action by Cale, so has deep gratitude towars him

Eruhaben:

+captain

+wants to resign and retire every week, but nobody allows him

+fails at acting high and mighty, and worries about members of the station daily

+has a soft spot for the kids, and allows them to play with his gold dragon figurines

Rosalyn Breck:

+works as civillian administrator; has desk before Eruhaben's office

+also great at IT, and definitely collects dirt on everyone

+considers joining the force at some point but as IT specialist; for now helps out whre she can

Ron Molan:

+older detective, not active in field anymore; 

+acquainted with Cale's parents, so pays close attention to him; 

+servs him lemonade tea ofc

The White Star: 

+a criminal, somehow couldn't be put to jail and convicted because they always lack evidece etc.nemesis of Roan St. Station

+when he is finally caught and shoot dead, after his memorial all crew took photo by his grave and hung it on the wall

Clopeh Sekka: wants to transfer to Roan St. Station to follow legend, but somehow his application is always lost, cannot be read etc... hm. 

Mary: IT specialist from the basement

Beacrox Molan: currently in SWAT team, but hans out at the station

+all my aus are alcale aus, so they are stupid idiots in love here too <3

+roan st station has badly photoshopped poster of Alver, and has inside joke of "SWEAR ON THE SUN" while pointing at it. (inspired by Derry Girls)

[prince-septimus]

the run-in

pairing : jason todd x detective!reader

summary : 3 times you run into the red hood, and the one time it’s jason todd

word count : 1.8k

warnings : mention of blood & violence 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with fire?”

You spin around quickly, your gun pointed at the chest of a man you had never met but had heard all too much about.

The Red Hood.

“Sounds more like something the Commissioner would tell me,” you speak calmly, but don’t move the gun away.

There are bodies lying around you – some brought down by your own hand and the others brought down by his. Groans of pain fill the air, but you know some of the men are dead.

“Commissioner Gordon—” his voice is mechanical, any real traces of what he sounds like hidden by the mask he wears, “—how is he doing these days?”

Your gaze turns into a glare. “He’s fine. Would you like me to call him up? I bet he’d love to talk to you.”

Under the dim streetlights of Gotham, the Red Hood is a startling figure. He’s almost terrifying as he stands in front of you, but in a city full of heroes and villains alike, you don’t let his imposing structure intimidate you.

“I’ve actually got places to be,” he quips, before turning his attention to one of the men lying on the ground.

They were all members of a local drug ring you had recently been trying to bust. You know the names of a few, recognized them from photos you had found, but now they were just bodies to fill the jail cells, or for some, the morgue. You had been on a stakeout, trying to find some last bits of evidence you would need to finally make the bust, but you were ambushed.

The Red Hood had appeared out of nowhere.

He kicks at the body closest to him. There’s no groan of pain. Letting out a huff of air, it’s almost masked by the static of his mask. “Looks like you have a lot of paperwork to do.”

“No thanks to you.”

His head turns. You briefly wonder what he looks like under that mask, wonder what he sounds like.

“I’ll make sure to leave a few for you next time.”

You can practically hear the smile hidden away underneath the false voice he carries with him. Finally, you drop your gun. “I’ll let the Commissioner know you say ‘hello’.”

-

“It’s not like you to sit up on roofs. That’s more of my kind of thing.”

You sigh, bringing your camera away from your face to look at the man who’s saddled up next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“What? Can’t stop by to see how my favorite detective is doing?”

“You hate the police,” you reply flatly.

It had been a few weeks since you had last seen the Red Hood. He had popped up occasionally, always when you were working alone. You figured he had found some sort of trust in you, helping you out on the occasional case by offering information if you turned a blind eye to his criminal activities. You had a sort of trust in him too, you had decided, trusting him to never lead you on a wrong turn when it came to the leads he gave you.

You still bickered with him, though, almost treating him like an old friend rather than a deadly vigilante.

“I only hate the police that don’t do their job.” He leans against the concrete barrier surrounding the roof, the one you had been hiding behind as you spied on the gangsters in the window across the street. “That doesn’t include you.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d be here if it did.” You scroll through the photos you had taken so far on your camera, making sure you have what you need before turning to the man standing next to you. “What do you want, Red?”

“Heard your name from some of the men you’ve been scouting.” He nods toward the building. “I think you need to be a little more careful.”

“Isn’t that what I keep you around for?”

This is one of the moments where you wish you could see the face beneath the mask. You want to be able to read him, be able to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Instead, you’re forced to look at the masked man in front of you and be completely unaware as to who sits beneath it all.

“Just be careful. Keep someone with you when you’re out here doing these kinds of things.”

You shake your head, turning to bend down and grab your equipment from where it’s spread out on the roof. “I’ll be alright, Red. Now, how about you walk me home, hm?”

You stand back up, but he’s nowhere to be found, almost as if he was never there.

-

A bullet flies past your head, planting itself into the man who had been pointing his gun at you.

You don’t need to turn around to know who the bullet belongs to. Instead, you let your arms fall to your side as a huff of air falls past your lips. “I had it.”

“Sure, you did.”

He appears next to you, sliding his gun back into the holster strapped to his hip. You feel the anger rise up in you as you turn to look at him, and without thinking, you’re shoving at his chest.

“I had it!”

“I told you not to do stakeouts alone anymore—”

“You don’t get to decide what I can and cannot do.” You lower your voice, trying to calm yourself. “This is my job. I shouldn’t even be talking to you—”

“But you need my help.”

You rub your hands across your face. “I don’t need your help unless I ask for it, and I didn’t ask for it this time.”

A mechanic scoff. “You could’ve died.”

“I needed more information out of the guy.”

“You could’ve died. Do I need to keep repeating it?”

“Well, I’m fine. And now I have to find an explanation of why this guy is dead.”

“Better than finding you dead.”

Sirens sound in the distance. Someone must’ve called the cops before you ever got the chance to call it in.

“Go,” you say quickly, “get out of here so I don’t have to explain to my coworkers why I’m talking to a man they’re actively hunting.”

By the time the patrol cars arrive, spotting you with your hands raised in the air, the Red Hood is long gone.

-

The lights above you hurt your eyes. You try to lift yourself off the ground, but the pain stops you. You’re not sure where it stems from, but it’s spreading like a wildfire. Your whole body burns. It hurts to turn your head, but you manage to do so and almost let out a sob at the sight of your partner laid out on the ground.

Blood drips out of his nose, and his eyes are lifeless.

You cough, suddenly feeling like you can’t catch your breath at the realization of everything that had just happened. You had convinced your newest partner – a newer recruit, almost 30 – to do a stakeout with you. It was supposed to be a simple watch, one to get more information on one of the newer crime families in Gotham.

Instead, the two of you had been ambushed and laid out. Your partner was dead and you were close enough to it.

You don’t hear the footsteps or the panicked shout of your name until there’s a man standing over you. It’s hard to see anything but his shadow under the streetlight, but you would recognize the voice hidden beneath that mask anywhere.

“Red,” you manage to get out softly before your throat begins to burn and you’re coughing out any next words you have.

“Stay still,” he orders. He reaches for your side, his gloved hand covered in blood when he pulls it back before immediately pressing it back against your side in order to stop some of the bleeding. "You've been shot.”

You hiss at the pain that shoots through you, your eyes shutting . “Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Hey, hey,” he pats at your cheek, “keep your eyes open for me.”

“At least I didn’t come alone.”

He looks over at the fallen body of your partner, letting out a sigh. “Look at how well that worked out for you. Where’s your phone?”

“Don’t know. Car maybe.”

“Fuck it,” he spits out, keeping one hand pressed against your gunshot wound while the other digs his own phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

You watch through blurry vision as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Commissioner,” he speaks into the phone, quickly explaining what’s happened and where to find you. When the call ends, he looks back down at you. “Help is on its way.”

Beneath his mask, the Red Hood has a confused expression etched onto his face as he listens to the soft laugh you let out. “What are you laughing at? You’re bleeding out in an alley and you’re laughing.”

“You called the Commissioner to help me.” Your voice is broken, breathy words falling from your lips. “You’re risking the police finding you here in order to get me help. You’re doing all this, and I don’t even know your name or what you look like.”

A turn of his head towards the end of the alley, looking to see if there’s anyone watching. There’s sirens in the distance. He only has a few minutes.

With a click, he removes the helmet and tosses it next to him. His black and white streaked hair falls onto his forehead, and his face is still partially covered by the domino mask he always wore underneath, but he’s all-too-familiar even without revealing everything.

You smile. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I was dead.”

“And Jim knows?”

“Yes.”

You try to sit up again, attempting to ignore the pain, but Jason’s free hand finds your shoulder and holds you down.

“Don’t move. It could make it worse.”

“What’s next? Is Nightwing about to appear from the rooftop?”

Jason laughs. “We’re not exactly speaking at the moment, so I assume no.”

You shake your head as best you can. “Jason fuckin’ Todd. Back from the dead. Can’t believe I made friends with a zombie.”

“Real original.”

The sirens are closer now, too close.

Jason lets out a sigh when he hears a car door slam shut. There’s blood on your face and he reaches up to smear some of it away with his glove. “I guess that’s my cue.”

Gordon appears first, clearly keeping the other officers away to give Jason time.

You watch the two nod at each other before Jason grabs one of your hands.

“Almost there,” he tells you softly, removing his hand and placing yours over the gunshot wound in your side. “Keep pressure there, help is here.”

Jason reaches for his helmet, slipping it back on before taking off into the shadows.

You realize he never said goodbye, but as the Commissioner and the EMTs reach you, you know that you’ll see him again.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Violent Ends

“What have I done?” Mr Hooper cried, tearing his gaze away from the place where his wife’s body lay on the lawn, three perfect scarlet holes picked out against her white linen blouse.

Fallen to his knees, he stared up at the man who’d come to save him, when he’d called this in as something else. Hoping there was still some time left for salvation.

“A great many things.” The other man kept his voice level. He’d introduced himself as Detective Lee, gently lifting the gun out of Mr Hooper's hands and wrapping it in his scarf. “Right now, let’s focus on the future. I got here first, but a CSU van and other officers are on their way. They’ll want to secure the scene, and then we’ll need to take you down to the station. Is there somewhere private we can go to talk beforehand?”

“Upstairs. The bedroom.” His eyes were wounds, leaking ichor tears like pus down a blotched face. The detective turned and headed in, no longer able to conceal his disgust.

After one last, longing look towards the body, as if still hoping she might twitch back into life, Mr Hooper levered himself off the grass and followed him.

The front door still hung ajar, three matching bullet holes splintering the heavy wood. The four doors at the top of the stairs were closed, but the detective led them to the master bedroom at first guess. Mr Hooper supposed he saw he lot of houses, and got to know the usual layout all too well. With the neighbourhood being what it was, he'd probably even been to somewhere down this street before.

“What did you want to talk about?” Mr Hooper asked, closing the door behind them. “I told the dispatcher everything. My wife didn’t come home after work, and then I heard somebody banging on the door in the dark. I panicked that they’d taken her, and then come for me too. I called you guys to come and help, but when they wouldn’t stop…”

“Hold up,” the detective interrupted. “Who is they?”

“We had a break in a few nights ago – you’ll have the report on your files. That’s when we bought the gun. It was only ever to keep us safe… oh God, I never dreamt it would turn out like this. Please, you have to believe me.”

He descended into another round of sobbing. Shoulders shook, hands clenched, but the detective was unmoved.

“You’re an actor, aren’t you?”

“We both are. Were. Are.” He looked up, squinting through those shrunken red eyes. “Why?”

“I’m just confirming some background points,” the detective answered smoothly. “It sounds like you and your wife had plenty in common.”

“That’s right.”

“And yet you were having difficulties, weren’t you?”

“Who told you that?”

“Do you deny it?”

He looked like he considered that, for a moment, but then the strength left him. “No. I’d accused her of seeing someone else. She was cast in this new adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, and I figured she was fooling around with one of her co-stars.”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

“What?”

“The play. I studied it in school.”

“Oh, right.” He paused for thought. “When you said a great many things, what did you mean?”

“Well, let’s see.” He counted them off his fingers. “You staged that burglary, to excuse the mindset and the gun. You knew your wife was cheating, and you wanted her dead. So, the next time she headed out to see her lover, you removed the keys from her bag and settled down to wait.”

“That’s insane. I don’t know why she didn’t have her keys. I couldn’t have predicted that.” He took a deep breath. “But even if I did do all of that, I’m the guy who called this in. You’ve still got me. I’m going to jail.”

“You were smart, but I’ll bet you knew you weren’t smart enough to pull off the perfect crime. Not a murder, with the whole police force on your back. So you decided to eat a manslaughter charge instead. With these waterworks and a sympathetic judge, you’d be down to a fraction of the jailtime.”

“If you say so,” he said, uncertain.

“Unfortunately, your wife was smart too. According to her, she was planning to divorce you, and you hadn’t taken the news well. She thought the timing of the break-in was fishy, especially as none of the stuff you actually loved was touched, just the things that she’d picked out on your behalf. Then she noticed the keys were gone, and she spoke to us first. We have you with motive, means, and opportunity.”

“Oh.” Outside, the sound of police vans had arrived. He’d called them on himself.

“That’s right,” the detective said, pulling out the scarf with the gun in it. “Now, you have about ten minutes before they take you into custody. After that, your destiny will be set. They’ll send you to prison for the rest of your life. For an artistic young man like you, I can assure you it will feel a lot longer. You will long for any escape, if you catch my drift, but they’ll take your shoelaces at the start.”

Mr Hooper nodded glumly. The detective found that interesting. Without the need for that melodramatic façade, this was how he really looked when learning that his life had fallen apart.

“Or…” He offered the gun, handle first. “You have ten minutes to take justice into your own hands. You did that for your wife, for her alleged affair, but you know that what you did is just as bad. You know that you deserve it.”

He stood up and showed himself out, closing the door behind him. Downstairs, he ran into his partner.

“How did he take it?”

“Like a bullet. Those blood packs looked perfect.” She smiled, but he still looked worried. “Are you okay? The vest definitely kept you safe?”

“My chest hurts like hell, but I’m fine. Together with the door, it took most of the sting out of the shots. But the cops will take me in for a check-up anyway.” Her face fell serious too. “Speaking of which, you need to go. I’ll explain what we agreed – he’s been jealous, threatening, and that’s why I picked up some precautions from the props department. Tonight he finally snapped and shot me as I opened the door. I’ve picked my keys back up from the counter. We’re all set.”

“If you’re sure.” He shot her one last concerned look before sneaking out the back door, as he’d done so many times before. “I’ll keep my head down, but I’ll see you on Tuesday?”

“See you at rehearsals,” she agreed, as an upstairs gunshot brought the cops outside racing through the other door.

[spellbook-gayboy]

Cape-Watch Monthly News Bulletin- July 2022

Hey, yall! I’m your host, Christina Cabello, brining you the latest roundup of this month’s supe-related news with the Cape-Watch Monthly Bulletin! July may just be the best time of the year for our caped crusaders, and we can’t wait to show you what we have in store!:

America’s Grandpa Becomes A Father

Kicking off the bulletin is actually quite a postive story. In the past few weeks, the Guardians Of The Globe member Rex Splode announced that he had been legally adopted by the former Guardian known as Frontline. In an exchange with his partner Invincible, the hero stated that the decision came about from a ‘social acclimation exercise’, in which apparent concerns over a family discount led the golden-age super to offer to adopt him. Despite the bizarre reasoning, Rex Splode accepted, even going so far as to refer to Frontline as ‘Dad’ in the reply chain. Cape-Watch reached out to Frontline for comment and received this written response:

“I suppose the only real reason I did it was because I wanted to. I never really had the time to have kids, and then I see this kid who can’t really relate to his friends because he never really had good parental figures. And I know I’m good with kids- hell, I led the Teen Team for seven years!- so I went into his room, told him to budget better in future, and then handed him the papers. Course, ‘cause he’s an adult, he had to sign them himself, which I was glad he did. So yeah, uh, I’m planning to bond with my kid soon, probably by playing catch or soccer with him. Y’know, dad things!”

And as if this story wasn’t wholesome enough, the heroes were later sighted actually engaging each other in a game of catch, with the additions of Monster Girl and Shapesmith seen as well. I, for one, look forward to seeing more of this father-son dynamic in future!

Demon Detective Delivered from the Depths

In more mystical news, the famed satanic sleuth Damien Darkblood was recently sighted up to his usual tricks, solving a grisly double-murder and, as is usual with him, doing the police’s job for them once again. When asked as to how he disappeared and subsequently returned, he mentioned the ‘grey Scotsman’ that rescued him from the darkest reaches of Hell. This description was of course a reference to the San Diego-based magician Magic Man. The West Coast Warlock confirmed as much in an interview with Cape-Watch, fresh off his victory against a villain simply known as Miss Direction, where he detailed the exact details of his incursion into the inferno:

“First of all, it was both me and Invulner- sorry, I meant Invincible. We went down and down until we got to this city called Dis. Long story short, I had to cut off Medusa’s head and break into this weird demon jail thing, which led to me freeing Dami. By now, I bet you’re wondering ‘Oh well that’s easy! Now all they have to do is go up and out, right?’

Well, not exactly! You see, the worst thing about the Nine Circles is that once you’re in, the only way out is straight down. So down and down we go, passing hellscape after hellscape until we come to the absolute bottom of it: The Pit Of Syrocc. The last few minutes of the whole ordeal was those two trying desperately to draw a portal while I attempted to talk the devil to death. All in all, would not recommend it!”

The timing of Darkblood’s disappearance was certainly suspicious, especially given rumours at the time suggesting he was investigating the massacre of the Guardians Of The Globe. Some at the time alleged that he fell victim to the murderer, while others speculated he had been silenced as part of a cover-up of the murders by the government, supposedly due to their involvement in it. Whatever the reason truly was, the world’s greatest detective certainly wouldn’t tell, instead choosing to resume his regular detective work. Perhaps that may be for the better. 

West Coast Hero Sparks Surge Of Supernatural Sightings

Carrying on from the subject of Magic Man, the wizard’s presence in San Diego has been anything but quiet. In fact, in the short two-month period since he and the former teen hero Multi-Paul began, the government liaison to the superhero community, Peter Schlottman, reported a staggering 33% increase in reports of superpowered beings across the Southwestern US. According to the report published last week, the reports are clustered around major cities, going as far north as Sacramento, California and as far east as Denver, Colorado. Another detail worth mentioning is that the vast majority of these reports are of a decidedly mystical or magical nature, many citizens claiming to have encountered demons or witches on the streets at night. 

Historically, the southwestern states (California, Nevada, Arizona, Utah, New Mexico and Colorado) have not enjoyed much attention from either superheroes or supervillains. The last real hero to be active in that region was the bank-sponsored super Moneybags, who was tragically killed in a bank robbery gone wrong in the late 1950s. What seems noticeable, at least to myself, is that while the majority of the country’s heroes and villains have typically science-based powers or immense skills and gadgets, the southwest now seems to have to taken on a more occult leaning, mainly protected by those skilled in the mystic arts, and routinely threatened by beings from dimensions outside of our own. But, whatever foul creature or malevolent entity may come next, the citizens of San Diego can rest assured that Magic Man is on the case!

Worrying Activity From Mars Sparks Concerns From Experts

And to round off this bulletin comes a rather worrying report from NASA. According to photographs taken by the recently established Kappa 3 satellite, several large, amorphous pink organisms were seen moving across the surface of the Red Planet. While the nature of these organisms currently remains a mystery, some have speculated that they are somehow linked to the highly secretive Martian colony located beneath the planet’s surface. The lead engineer of the Kappa 3 mission, Mabel Scrofano, had this to say about the discovery:

“What this discovery truly means for the ecosystem on Mars is currently unknown. We’ve been working with our Astrobiology team to determine the nature of these organisms and how they are capable of surviving the harsh surface conditions of Mars. One working theory is that these may be the result of biological experimentation by Martian scientists, but the colony has yet to answer our hails. I would encourage anyone concerned with how this discovery may pose a threat to the safety of Earth to remain calm, as there doesn’t seem to be a way that these organisms could feasibly reach the planet without the assistance of rocket propulsion.”

The theory that the Martians are responsible for the creatures certainly holds some weight. Even with 30 years of public acknowledgement by humanity, very little is still known about their society, mostly due to their extreme, almost warlike reaction to any outsiders making contact. Over the decades, only two members of this reclusive and underground culture have left for Earth: the first was Martian Man, esteemed member of the Guardians Of The Globe and victim of the massacre by Omni-Man, and the second being the elastic (and quite slapstick, in my opinion) hero known as the Shapesmith, who is also the newest addition to the current roster of the Guardians led by The Immortal. Whatever the result of this discovery turns out to be, I doubt it will pose much of a threat so long as we have heroes like them to protect us. 

And that’s all for this month! We’d once again like to thank those who support Cape-Watch with their donations, as it’s thanks to you guys that we’re able to bring you the super reporting we’re known for! And remember to stay safe, stay hydrated, and to tune in next month for more of the biggest superhero stories around! 

[eldrai]

What It's Like (Morgan & Hotch)

Read on ao3 here

Summary: Everything was supposed to be over.

Everything was over.

Right until state troopers had cuffed him, read him his rights and left him in a cell to be interrogated by a snarky son-of-a-bitch detective. Right until the team just had to get involved. Right until Buford insisted it was his help which had made Derek into himself now. Right until Hotch and Gideon stood there and heard and knew.

OR: Buford is arrested; Hotch and Morgan have a conversation.

Warnings: implied/referenced childhood sexual abuse + domestic abuse, internalized victim-blaming (not actively blaming himself for abuse, but 'I should be over it' type thinking)

Words: 2.6k

Written as platonic, could be pre-slash if you want

It shouldn’t affect him.

He shouldn’t even be here. Derek had laid it to rest the last time he’d spoken to Buford, and though it took him a couple of years to work through the overwhelmingly intense emotions he’d never let himself feel, he had reached a state he’s content with. When it crosses his mind every now and then – much more frequently when they have a similar case – the memories aren’t so sharp and stay in their box most of the time. He’s accepted he’ll never live without it but as far as things go, he’s living with it as well as he can.

Everything was supposed to be over.

Everything was over.

Right until state troopers had cuffed him, read him his rights and left him in a cell to be interrogated by a snarky son-of-a-bitch detective. Right until the team just had to get involved. Right until Buford insisted it was his help which had made Derek into himself now. Right until Hotch and Gideon stood there and heard and knew.

Derek paces outside the rec centre, awash in flickering red and blue from the car they’d stuffed Buford into. It shouldn’t affect him but here he is, a tight knot of dread in his chest and a bitter anger burning hot in his face. His clenched jaw aches and it takes a conscious effort to stop. He’s a teenager again in the worst way – furious at the world, at Buford, at himself for caring about it.

And Buford is under arrest, his personable father figure persona falling through at last, but the smallest, most selfish part of him asks if it’s worth it. For him to be dragged out here and accused of murder and stripped of dignity and secrets.

(It is. Derek would do it again in a heartbeat if it stopped more boys getting hurt, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hate every last second.)

He’ll have to tell Mom and his sisters, but Mom—it’s going to destroy her. She will blame herself for letting it happen, for not noticing, hate herself for every late shift and early start and no amount of arguing will ever truly make her understand it’s not her fault. Derek just hopes she doesn’t find out before he can tell her himself, soften the blow a little; his mind conjures up the same cop who’d arrested him, exhausted and apathetic in the eyes, spitting it out with no regard to the damage it can do.

Better than winding up in jail for a murder he didn’t commit, Derek reasons. The victory rings hollow when the prize is stripping back his skin and muscle and laying his insides bare for everyone to see, his blood as ink spelling out the ugly story. Breaking his family’s hearts.

The worst part is he’s not supposed to be angry. All the team ever did was their jobs and if Hotch had listened to him, had backed off, Derek wouldn’t be here now to be pissed at him. But that does little to soothe the sting. His secret on display just like that.

He paces and he breathes and he swallows down the anger but it’s too much to store away for later, his next trip to one of his properties and a sledgehammer in hand. Too raw. Too real.

Because he thought he was over it.

(It’s not fair. Why was it him? Why was it the boy before? Why was it the boy after? What unfortunate string of experiences led to Carl Buford deciding he’s got the right to manipulate them and befriend them and abuse them? None of it is fair and nothing will change that.

Why isn’t he over it?)

Behind him, the footsteps aren’t the stomping gait of police standard boots. Derek doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want to see how pity looks on Hotch. It’s one thing to tolerate it from well-intentioned acquaintances but another entirely from people he cares about.

He leans against the low fence running the perimeter of the parking lot. It is scabbed over with rough rust. He lets his vision soften, blur around the edges, content with the occasional car coming past.

“Morgan.”

“What gave it away?” Derek asks. “I bet it was real satisfying to figure out what was wrong with me. So what was it?”

“I’m sorry—”

Sorry doesn’t help. Derek’s sorry too that this ever happened but saying it doesn’t make a difference. He turns, and is momentarily relieved when Hotch just looks at him the same as ever, because it’s easier to handle pity if it doesn’t really show. “Don’t. Just don’t. I’m serious, though: what was it?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Hotch says. Infuriatingly calm. An irritating mix of gratitude and anger just fuels the fire. He wants to feel one way or the other about it, not both.

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek protests. Uniforms glance in their direction. “You had no right to – no right!”

No, he had no right but it’s only because he ignored that they’re having this argument. It’s rational and irrational to be mad and he can’t settle on which is the right thing to feel.

“I know,” Hotch admits.

That strikes a nerve.

Because no, he doesn’t. None of them do. They can’t understand the raw humiliation from the type of abuse alone, let alone having his life picked apart and examined for cracks. And yet they did it all the same, without so much as the decency to include him.

“Do you?” Derek says, his voice cold steel. “Do you really? Have you got any idea what it’s like to go through that? To have his hands on you? And then just when you think it’s over, someone comes along and brings it up again! Don’t tell me you know that!”

Blood buzzes in his ears and a spark of pain in his palms come from his fingernails pressing deep into his skin. Derek breathes, feels the tension ease a fraction, the headache and stomachache and dizziness starting to melt away. He’s not good, but he’s not close-to-a-panic-attack bad.

They stand there for a time, just breathing and occasionally making brief eye contact, and Derek is beginning to think he’s completely screwed until Hotch joins him, hands on the railing as the low rumble of distant traffic ebbs and flows.

“You were right that I don’t know what sexual abuse is like,” Hotch says. It’s how he says it unflinchingly that sets him on edge; he’s used to euphemisms and avoidance and nobody ever wants to come right out and acknowledge what it really was. At the same time, it hits like a punch to the gut. “I should have worded it better. That’s on me. What I was trying to say is that nothing you did gave it away.”

His anger has mellowed out, not as sharp as earlier but there just the same, a heaviness in his stomach and an irritability he can’t shake and doesn’t much care to try.

“So what did?”

“I know how it felt to keep secrets like that,” Hotch says. He speaks slowly. Deliberately. “I know what it’s like to have spent half the time wishing someone would notice and the other half being terrified that they’d figure it out.”

Derek swallows but says nothing. He can recognise an olive branch when he sees one.

“I know what it’s like to have to listen to everyone praise him and know even if you told someone, they’d never believe it.”

That hangs in the air until he’s pretty sure Hotch isn’t going to say anything else. “It’s always the ‘upstanding members of the community’ and you’d think someone might realise.”

“That was why I suspected Buford,” Hotch says. “Aside from the initial accusation, the image he presented of himself was too clean.”

“He needed – hell, still needs – people to think he was good,” he says. “That what you meant?”

“Good people – genuinely good people – don’t work so hard to convince everyone that they are,” Hotch says. “They aren’t perfect. They have disagreements and make mistakes. They’ve got faults because they are real people, but we never heard a bad word against Buford.”

(For some reason he’s thinking of Garcia: her bright smile and the light in her eyes and driving away the darkness that threatens to drown them. Genuinely good people indeed.)

“Me neither,” Derek says, laughs without humour. Without the burning anger he’s cold and a little empty. Mellowed-out. “I used to think people did suspect something, you know? Because someone must have. All of us, the same ages, all boys…”

“People see what they want to,” Hotch says, more than a touch cynical. “They wanted Buford to have no ill intent, so they didn’t see it. They created justifications for almost anything.”

“How did you get from ‘something’s up with this guy' to the real thing?” Derek asks.

“Process of elimination. Nothing showed up on your records and nothing indicated something removed. If he killed those boys in a fit of rage, he’d have shown a history of violence and there would be evidence of previous domestic abuse. He went to lengths to maintain a reputation, and that gave him access to children and teenagers. He favoured a specific demographic but his status kept people from questioning it.”

It’s laid out bare and clinical. Just the same as an average profile: nothing personal to him or to Buford. Derek appreciates it, a good middle ground between avoiding the issue and being painfully, painfully open. He’d just rather not have to have this conversation at all. “The team’s gotta have some idea,” he says.

Because Gideon and Hotch did, and they’re all profilers as well. The more they think about it, the more likely they are to come to the correct conclusion, and Derek is equally as apprehensive about facing their reactions. A sick guilt sets in when he thinks too much about it: the response he’s afraid of is concern, pity, kindness – a luxury many aren’t afforded.

(Does he even deserve it if he doesn’t want it?)

“They knew Gideon and I were leaving but not what we thought,” Hotch says. “If they guess, it’s their own.”

Derek looks over his shoulder. Buford’s silhouette sits in the back of a car, its chin held high, commanding a respect it had never deserved. “Yeah, well, if they haven’t figured it out by now, they’re going to once they book him in.”

“They don’t have to know more than what they hear.”

“Good to know I can choose now,” Derek mutters. “It doesn’t matter. Either they know or they don’t.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Just don’t. Please.”

“No, not that it happened,” Hotch says. A beat later: “That wasn’t what – I wish you weren’t in that position, but I’m sorry that I had to bring it up.”

“I’d be in jail,” Derek says. More than any emotion, he is plain tired. What he’d give to be at home with Clooney and his own bed. “I don’t think I’m allowed to be mad.”

“You are,” Hotch says firmly. Perhaps more than a mediocre attempt at a joke necessitates. “It was an awful situation. You’re allowed to feel however you feel about it.”

It’s not that he needs someone to tell him that, but hearing it is – he’ll admit it’s nice, to know that someone else agrees and it’s not just his own head. Derek shrugs. “I moved on. It shouldn’t be – it was fine.”

Fine before Buford dragged him into this mess—god knows how many people are going to hear his name in connection to him tonight. And how many after that? They’ll think of him and see what a sick old man did to him. Not the work he puts in. Not who he fought – fights – to be. Not a profiler and a brother and a son.

Not Derek Morgan.

Just a victim or a survivor or whichever label they thrust upon him for their own comfort, easier to digest, easier to square him away in a neat box and tell themselves it won’t affect them because it’s only ever those children. Neighbours and friends and acquaintances but never their kids.

“It doesn’t mean you haven’t,” Hotch says. “I’d be more surprised if it didn’t affect you at all.”

“It doesn’t ‘affect’ me,” Derek says. Maybe he’s spoken too soon about the pity thing. “Look, just leave it.”

“Moving on doesn’t necessarily mean feeling nothing,” Hotch says. “If you wanted to tell someone, if or when you wanted, and how much to share – that was your choice and it shouldn’t have been taken.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for that, by the way,” he says, more bitterly than he’d intended. His thoughts return to his family. “The team are gonna know, who else?”

“Other than the officers making the arrest, nobody yet.”

Derek nods. He can work with that, has to. At the very least he’ll be the first one to tell his mom and sisters – silver linings, he supposes, no matter how thin – and it’s certainly better news to give than they’re taking him to trial for a murder he didn’t commit. This isn’t the type of thing he can just drop on them and walk away. “I’m gonna take a couple days to, uh, let things settle down around here.”

It’s not a question.

“It won’t come out of your personal time off.”

He lets go of the fence and brushes flecks of rust from his palms. Behind them the area is quieting down again, and in an hour or two there won’t be any sign of what happened beyond a handful of collective, awful memories. Well, Derek’s just glad there aren’t going to be any more kids knowing the place as somewhere bad—that it’ll never be more than a sports hall and cramped changing rooms and a stuffy old storage closet. That when they think of it, the memories are nostalgic, not thrown together into a nightmare steeped in fear.

Derek makes a move to go. It’s a short walk back to his mom’s and it’ll do him good to clear his head. Give him time to find not the right words – for there can’t be – but the most comforting.

“Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

“You know if you need to talk—”

“I know,” he says. “And no offense, but you have to say that, right? ‘Cause I don’t think either of us really want that.”

Hotch tilts his head. “I’m not saying it because I’m obligated to.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek says. “And I’ll keep it in mind.”

He doesn’t intend to mention it. Just like how they aren’t going to mention what Hotch had told him. That’s never how they handle it. But the sentiment is there, and the team are reliable like a second family: they’d be there if he wanted to and until then, they’re not going to press it.

He’s not okay – he’ll admit that to himself if nobody else – but he’ll get there. Knowing their luck, they’ll have been thrown headfirst into a case so chaotic by next week that it’s all they can think of. Such is the job. It's crazy but he loves it.

“Thanks,” Derek says. “For not giving up.”

Hotch gives him a solemn nod.

“And sorry for the paperwork they’re gonna give you for me getting arrested,” he jokes. “Ever had to do that before?”

“Fortunately not.”

“Well,” Derek says, “there’s an early Christmas present. You’re welcome.”

That elicits something that’s almost a smile. “Take care.”

“I will. See you back home,” he says, and he walks away from Buford and the memories and this long, miserable day. Back to his mom's place with nicer reminders of childhood, the height marks pencilled on the kitchen door frame and the shower with a leaking faucet and home-cooked meals.

Back to his family.

[missjanjie]

Better Than Revenge | Chapter 3

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter) | ~8k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Gigi, Symone, and Denali's revenge origin stories

-

Woodstock, IL — 2016

Gigi took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this, it was fine. Every time her suspicions or confusion would bubble up, she forced them back down. Hannah was nice, she was different from the other popular girls. She didn’t see the ‘weird art lesbian’ with the braces and thick-rimmed glasses, who rarely got pop culture references post-1989, at least, that’s how she made her feel.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she assured her mother as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, I’m just hanging out with a friend.” She was out to her mom, of course, that was her biggest ally. But she wasn’t ready to tell her that the head cheerleader had taken an interest in her. Maybe when and if they became official. Until then, she shook off the last of her nerves and drove to her house, only pulled from her thoughts by the time she was sitting on Hannah’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Hannah cooed, batting her lashes and resting her hand on Gigi’s thigh.

If Gigi hadn’t been so blinded by her crush, she might’ve thought Hannah was laying it on a little thick, but she couldn’t act like she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Me too, a-about you, I mean. Sorry, I’m just nervous…”

“How come? I didn’t come on too strong over text, did I?”

“No, no I liked it, it’s just… I’m a virgin, like, I’ve only ever kissed before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. She had talked a big game over text, but being faced with the chance of starting a physical relationship brought her back to reality.

Hannah pouted, rubbing Gigi’s thigh as she thought, letting her hand inch higher. “Well, you’ve got fantasies, don’t you? I know you’ve masturbated before. What do you think about while you touch yourself?”

Gigi hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The other girl wasn’t wrong, she did know what she liked, could conjure up vivid imagery to get herself aroused, but she had never said any of it out loud. “I like powerful, confident women. I guess that’s something that drew me to you,” she started, “I wanna just… give up control, be dominated.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Hannah prompted, kissing along her neck and jaw and slowly tugging Gigi’s shirt off in an attempt to coax her to continue.

When Hannah didn’t seem deterred by her confession, Gigi started to relax. “It’s just, I don’t know, I always feel the need to be in control of my life and with sex, I just wanna let go and give up that power.”

“So like, what would you want someone to do to you?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She bit down on her lip. “Um… tie me up, spank me, choke me, and I know it’s kind of intense but maybe something like cnc or—” the incessant buzzing of her phone distracted her and, concerned it might be an urgent call or text from home, she took her phone out. “Sorry, one sec.”

It wasn’t from home, she had two missed calls from her best friend, Crystal, followed by several texts.

Crystal: GIGI STOP Crystal: SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Crystal: She’s broadcasting you on IG live! Crystal: We can see and hear everything…

Gigi’s face fell, her first instinct to pull her shirt back on. Then she slowly looked up and in front of her, that’s when she saw it, nestled between stuffed animals — Hannah’s phone with an instagram live going. She didn’t say anything, just ran out of the house as fast as her legs would take her and through her tears drove right to Crystal’s house. That was when the two of them formed their plot.

In and of itself, it was simple. Gigi waited one day until Hannah was away for a cheer competition and went to her house. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Andrews, but I think I left some of my homework in Hannah’s room, she just said to let you know so I can run in and grab it.” Once inside, she found exactly what she was looking for, sliding Hannah’s diary into her backpack and went right back out.

“This feels very Mean Girls, I love it,” Crystal remarked as they taped page after page of the diary on lockers, walls, anywhere they could.

“Well, plan B was to go the Heathers route, so let’s just hope it works.”

And to say it worked was an understatement. As it turned out, Hannah had written things far more incriminating, and because it came from someone of her social ranking, it made everyone immediately lose interest in Gigi’s livestream scandal, and she graduated with the anonymity she needed for survival.

Present Day

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rosé remarked, “it’s kinda hard to picture you as an ugly duckling, especially the way you described it.” Gigi was too pretty, too perfect. Something didn’t add up.

Gigi got out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she found one from her senior year. “Believe it, doll,” she said as she held her phone up. She watched with an amused expression as Rosé looked from her phone, to her, and back with her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Braces off, lasik, learned a lot about how to dress while going to FIDM, which is where I met Symone, who helped fill in the blanks.”

“And made sure she got to do all them things she listed to that bitch without feeling ashamed about it,” Symone added with a smirk, draping her arm around Gigi and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why don’t you tell her your story next, baby?” Gigi prompted.

Conway, AR — 2014

Symone watched her sister throw her bag over her shoulder and start to sneak out the window. “Look, I ain’t snitching or nothing, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

She and her sister, Lala, were close, sometimes referring to themselves as twins – they were only ten months apart, in the same grade at school. And until the summer after sophomore year, they had the same group of friends. But the crowd Lala ran with now just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You worry too much,” Lala brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, in bed by morning like nothing happened.”

But when Symone got a collect call two hours later, she found out things were far from fine. She drove down to the county jail as fast as she could without getting pulled over herself. Luckily bail was a mere fifty dollars, but once she got her sister back in the car, she looked at her incredulously. “What the fuck happened?”

“One of ‘em brought weed, another brought booze, but when the cops rolled up on us, they said it all was mine. And who was they gonna believe, me or three white kids?” Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” Symone admitted quietly, frustrated at her inability to come up with an immediate solution. “But we’re gonna do our best to get you out of this, okay?”

The best they could do wasn’t easy. It involved a lot of legal maneuvering, meetings with one person in a suit after another. The end result wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than what could have been. Lala was fined three hundred dollars and put on thirty days of probation. In and of itself, it didn’t seem so bad, but the residual consequences took their toll.

“I lost my scholarship, ‘mone. That was my ticket into college,” Lala sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting off with a slap on the wrist, but I really ain’t thrilled about taking out student loans,” she sat down on the floor beside the bed, head leaning against it. “Or maybe I’ll start with community college, I dunno. It just fucking sucks that they all got off with warnings.”

Symone’s brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Don’t you worry baby,” she said after a moment, “they gon’ face consequences one way or another.”

It had taken most of spring break, but Symone finally had all of the pieces for her plan. “Not the most convoluted thing in the world, but it’ll get the job done,” she mused.

Lala looked at her sister, then at her desk and back. “Do I even wanna know where the hell you got coke from?”

“No, you do not.”

Getting the drugs was the hard part. Getting into school early to plant the drugs in the lockers of Lala’s former friends was far easier, as was leaving an ‘anonymous tip’ from a ‘concerned student’ on the principal’s desk.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen them get hauled off in cop cars,” Lala remarked as she and Symone drove home from school. The three students were quietly escorted out of class and arrested, the school wanting to bring as little attention as possible. “Shame that they rich daddies will still get them off lightly.”

Symone sighed and nodded. “Sure, but they’re still gonna get something, which is more than what they got when they threw you under the bus. Bet they’re gonna think twice before they let someone else take the fall for them.”

Her sister smiled softly and shook her head. “You really ain’t gotta do all that for me, you know?”

“I know,” she hummed, “not gonna stop me, though.”

Present Day

“Wow, that’s both selfless and hardcore,” Rosé remarked with an impressed nod. “Did she ever find out where you got the coke from?”

Symone laughed and shook her head. “Nah, that secret I’m taking to the grave.”

Rosé jokingly put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. After a moment, she turned her attention to Denali. “That just leaves you, princess,” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s your claim to infamy?”

Denali tossed her hair off her shoulder and grinned softly. “Who, me?” she cooed, fluttering her lashes. “Well, it is kind of an interesting story…”

Nicky rolled her eyes and tossed one of the couch pillows at her head. “Stop flirting and get on with it already.”

Fairbanks, AK — 2011

Denali groaned when the sound of loud footsteps racing up the stairs pulled her from her quasi-asleep state, then pulled a pillow over her head when the door swung open.

“What the hell are you still doing in bed when the qualifiers are in two hours?” her friend, Kahmora, asked with incredulous horror. She yanked the covers off of her, but stepped back in concern when she finally caught sight of Denali’s face. “Oh god, you look like shit.”

She frowned and rolled over to face away from her. “I feel like I died and was in the process of being reanimated, then killed again,” she lamented. “It’s probably food poisoning… or maybe swine flu came back, I dunno.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

Denali furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “I mean, Tara gave me those brownies and I had one, but when she said they were ‘special’, I just thought she meant they had weed in them, but that sure as hell isn’t it.” With as much energy as she could muster, she sat upright. “Oh my god, do you think she poisoned me?”

Kahmora arched her brow. “I think that’s a bit much, even for her. Do I think she put something like a laxative in there so it’d take you out long enough that you couldn’t beat her out in the international qualifiers? Yeah, probably. She’s a cunt.”

The skater scowled, her jaw clenched. “She’s a dead cunt,” she corrected, then suddenly shot out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom yet again.

There wasn’t an obvious revenge plan for Denali. She knew that nothing she did would get her spot in the competition, and she wondered if it was even worth it. But her pettiness and spite won out and she began planning out her course of action.

“Remember,” she was saying, “if all else fails, we go the Tonya Harding route.”

Kahmora sighed. “For the last time, you are not whacking Tara’s kneecaps, now let’s go.” Despite some pouting from Denali, they went to get the gears turning in their plan. They got to the ice rink and slipped into the locker room without being noticed by Tara, who was in the middle of practice.

Denali picked the lock and took out Tara’s change of clothes. Then she reached into her own bag and pulled on latex gloves and a plastic bag containing several leaves of poison ivy. She turned the shirt, pants, and socks inside out and firmly rubbed the leaves against the fabric, making sure she left as little fabric uncovered as possible. “She’s lucky I’m merciful or I’d rub it on her panties too,” she remarked offhandedly.

Kahmora tilted her head as she watched her. “Do you actually think it’ll take her out of the competition?” she asked as her friend put the leaves and gloves into the ziploc bag.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, probable really, that the constant itching might make it too difficult for her to skate. But this is more about getting even with her. I might not ever get another chance to compete for internationals. She’s lucky the only retribution she’s getting is a few weeks of itchy blisters.”

“Otherwise you’d Tonya Harding her?”

Denali nodded brightly. “Exactly! Now come on, we have to get rid of the evidence.” And with that, they scurried out of the locker room as inconspicuously as they’d entered it and threw out the evidence in a trash can several blocks over.

When the news broke that Tara had withdrawn from the competition due to ‘unexpected physical problems’, Denali did her best to feign shock and didn’t celebrate until she and Kahmora were alone.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Kahmora asked.

Denali tilted her head in thought, then smirked. “Let’s go get brownies.”

Present Day

“Personally, I still think you should’ve busted her knees,” Mik mused offhandedly. “Like, I bet you would’ve figured out a way to get away with it, you conniving bitch,” he teased.

Denali shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not very original and it’d look a lot more suspicious on my end.”

“I think it was pretty badass,” Rosé offered, making the other woman smile which, in turn, made her heart flutter — something she chose to actively ignore. Instead, she let all of their stories sink in. None of their reasons for revenge were out of line, none of their victims undeserving. And none of the consequences were as severe as some of the things she had seen in her time. “You all really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to keep this up for three years if we didn’t,” Jan replied. “We had all of the potential on our own, but we make a difference together, and then we added Jackie to tie up the loose ends. It’s been smooth sailing from there.”

“Yeah, and now Jackie ties you up instead,” Nicky teased, earning an eye roll in response.

Rosé watched the group interact with a fond smile. She had assumed they all got along to be working together for as long as they have been, but she hadn’t anticipated them truly behaving like a family. It was a stark contrast to the constant coldness and curtness she had grown accustomed to, both in her previous career and in the environment she grew up in. She only hoped it would make the tasks ahead that much easier for them.