#also so curious to see at what point the “you’re faking it” police come out bc being isolated for so long I’m sure it’s gonna come off as

[theyinapluralway]

we (initiated by our host) had our big system awareness a year and half ago but have been wayyyyy too scared to interact with systems online or engage with DID content anywhere else because like. then it’s real yknow? which is WILD because we have a whole ass psych degree to back it up, have been diagnosed, have signs and symptoms that are impossible to ignore, have had our friends confirm it time and time again and call us by name even when we don’t notice, and yet. and YET. laughing at DID memes is what makes it too real. because shiiiit if it’s deep like THAT? it’s fr fr.

[natromanxoff]

Most of you probably know about the alleged tape incident of Roger’s. After constantly getting pissed off because of him getting called as “dumbass”, seeing people trying to find and watch the video (let’s be honest that is actually a little impertinent); now I am able to acknowledge better how someone out there made up some incorrect version about this, maybe even totally fake, story and the misinformation had spread around. It’s actually getting even worse when the incident in question might not have happened at all.

Last month, I have come across and received the scan of another article which had headlines about this matter. And guess what? While I was only expecting to read pure nonsense again, there was more about it - I realized that it doesn’t tell about it as Roger giving the wrong tape and it’s totally different. The Sun said “it’s stolen" too but everybody around has been saying “he gave it”. Before I start, I’d like to point out some important points: 

1. Be aware that this is, even though it has reached out to tabloids, a private issue. Whether the story is wrong or right, this is a story about a private stuff of them. Above all, Roger is already a private person himself about his personal life. Please be respectful at that if you ever say something about it.

2. You all use this story to mock him in some ways which I don’t really appreciate – it’s kind of like IILWMC –, don’t do it. I am not writing this down for you to change the context and make more jokes. My sole purpose is trying to stop this ‘gave the wrong tape’ accusation because I don’t see any source or proof regarding that. Send me if there’s any but I don’t think there is.

3. Always remember that these are only tabloid stuff. Most of the time, they are not credible or creditable at all. Those are the same papers which wrote all the horrible things when Freddie passed away. It’s hard to trust anything that those unreliable papers wrote about. But, at least, we’ll be able to see the origin of some details. Basically, keep in mind that this whole thing might not have happened at all but it also mentions nothing about him making a mistake - that part doesn’t appear anywhere on the internet actually, except on the words of fans’.

4. Let’s just not delve into this subject much more than necessary but only read the paper to see what it says. As I said, this post is written only for information.

We all know about The Sun article (May 4th, 1991). The one I mentioned now is from Sunday Mirror (SM) (May 5th, 1991). There is a couple of interesting points when you compare these two; that person asked for £10,000 from the first one anonymously and £5,000 from the second one by arranging a meeting; The Sun says they let the police know about it and some progress have already been made, SM says they gave the files to detectives the previous night; The Sun is somehow able to tell that the video was recorded in the previous year but also tells that it’s not known how the copy was made, meanwhile SM describes it with details. They make me nothing but more suspicious, like they are in contradict and something feels off. Did he request two different amounts of money from two different newspaper company by having only one copy to see which one will accept? Or were there more than one copy? If there were more than one, it makes me think that people would have found it by now. I am not going to question these anymore though, I don’t want to do that and it’s not my aim at all, because the main point I’d like to talk about and correct is how the tape has reached out to Douglas Lane, the person who tried to sell it,: by the man who was hired to do some work at Roger’s home when he was away. He thought the tape he saw on the shelf is a video from The Miracle album and took it home to watch so he basically ‘stole’ it because he ended up making a copy and giving it to Lean.

Lean claimed the tape had been “borrowed” and copied by a 47-old-friend.

The man had been hired to do building work at Taylor’s £700,000 second home in Kensington, West London, while the star was away.

He took the tape from a shelf thinking it was a video from Queen’s Miracle album.

Lean said: “He is a Queen fan so he thought he would take it home and have a look at it.”

And Douglas, who earns money in an unsatisfying amount, thought that he would get more by selling it.

“He had the sense to copy it and put the original back, but he didn’t do anything with the copy.

“He knew I was involved in music and told me about it.”

Lean, who drives a concrete mixer by day and earns £20 a night playing guitar in pubs, said: “I immediately thought I could make myself a packet out of it.

“It was my idea to sell it.”

Sunday Mirror writes that Lean said Roger edited the tape so that after those “sessions”, you see Breakthru video and he labelled the tape “Breakthru promo”.

“Taylor has no idea the video has been copied,” said Lean.

He said the tape was labelled “Breakthrough Promo” — the name of the band’s single from the Miracle album.”

I mean, really? I honestly don’t have any idea why he would do that. Why would he add a private video on a same tape with one of Queen videos? Why would he bother? If he did, why does he label it with that? Why does that worker get so curious about a video from 2 years ago? Maybe he didn’t have chance to see it in those two years, that could be the only answer. But why does he bring it to his home rather than watching it in Roger’s home? Surely, he wouldn’t see any problem at that as he’s fine with taking something that doesn’t belong to him. It’s purely a chance that he came across with something unexpected which will make him want to copy it at his home.

And after everything, this is apparently what Lean says:

But he insisted: The video was not stolen. It was just borrowed and copied.”

I can say a lot of words right now but I won’t… If all these things are really true, that is not an excuse of taking someone’s private stuff to copy without their consent, not ethical at all as he aimed to sell it and make it public. Ergo it was indeed stolen.

So, see? There is no “mixing the tapes and giving the wrong tape to a fan”. I assume this article must be the first place where that wrong version came from. And if it is telling the truth, there seems to be no mistake he has done here because his private stuff has been taken from his property unbeknownst to him. Briefly, we don’t know for sure if they had a tape and if it has really reached out to someone but if it did, then I believe this is high likely how it would happen.

It’s worth to mention that there is another theory regarding these news, that it’s been arranged to take media’s attention off Freddie. I can’t tell which one is true or if both them are wrong and nothing even happened, of course. It’s up to you, choosing whatever you’re going to believe in. But know that I can’t see any creditable source about him giving the wrong tape - so I wouldn’t suggest believing in that or keeping talking about it - and there might be more about this that we don’t / won’t know about so it’s only haste to make a judgement based on these. 

Last note about something regarding him in general: Please, don’t take the different versions of this story and comments about them into account when you form your opinion about him because only those things don’t define him. Or the other way around, “if it’s Roger, it’s probably true - he would do it” attitude is not really fair when we consider that it’s actually you who chose to perceive him in that way by getting influenced whether by the movie or some ‘facts’ around - they do not reflect some aspects of him in the right way. Always try to find an original source. It is not always only him who would have his fun in those various ways, it is possible for any other rock star. All of them did some stuff - sometimes some really bad stuff - but it is not only Roger (I don’t mean the stated story here though, I honestly can’t see anything bad there). So him being the one who is involved in this story doesn’t prove or provide any authenticity. If everyone complies with that while critizing him or not approving something about him, it is always acceptable and welcomed, in my opinion. And that is valid about everyone, of course.

[teawaffles]

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 2

“Oh my…… I thought this would be nothing more than a war game, but it’s certainly more nerve-wracking than I expected.”

The participants had taken their places, and around five minutes had passed since the game began. Kevin was whispering to Albert beside him as they walked, while pointing the gun he’d received in every direction around him. But in contrast to the jittery man, Albert had the relaxed air of a soldier.

“Certainly, this is a feeling of tension one wouldn’t normally get to experience. In fact, the enemy might just be around that corner.”

“What!? Really?”

Panicked, Kevin’s eyes darted all around them in a fluster. That disproportionate reaction elicited a wry laugh from Albert.

“Although it’s important to be aware of your surroundings, if you’re that stiff, your movements will be slow when it’s time to fight. Please relax a little.”

“I-I see. Yes, you’re right……”

Kevin nodded. Beside him, Albert’s guard was impeccable as he watched the leaves swaying in the slight breeze.

The playing field encompassed the entire forest. That said, as it wasn’t a vast area, there was no danger of getting lost. In addition, there was a little cabin in the woods, used on a daily basis by the gamekeeper who managed the hunting grounds; as they had obtained permission to use it during the game, indoor battles were also an option.

For the purposes of safety, all players were obliged to wear spectacles shaped to resemble goggles, as well as bulletproof vests. The guns they had been issued fell into two categories: revolvers and sniper rifles. As a forfeit, and also to pass the time, eliminated players were tasked to feed pheasant chicks at a game bird nursery a good distance away.

Incidentally, Herder had also wanted to impose a severe punishment in the event a gun was damaged. Foreseeing that this would create needless worry, Moran and the others had swiftly hushed him before the words left his mouth.

Thinking back to the explanation of the rules, Kevin looked at the revolver in his hand.

“In any case, this gun is exquisitely crafted. As it was mentioned earlier that the guns used fake bullets, I imagined it would resemble a toy, but it looks exactly like the real thing.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, though it’s all due to Herder’s exceptional skill. I heard he oversaw the creation of these weapons down to the finest details.”

Kevin looked at the card attached to his gun with string. Written on it was a number 8.

“I see: so this is a measure to prevent the guns from getting lost. But if they are so important, I thought it would be safer to carve the numbers directly onto them.”

“You may be right; in which case, we may’ve caused everyone some inconvenience.”

Albert said that with a slightly apologetic tone, and Kevin waved it off.

“No, no — if anything, it reflects his passion, and I honestly respect that. Even though I work in a different field, I have a lot to learn from him as a professional.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sure Herder would be delighted to hear that,” Albert replied, with sincere joy.

However, in an instant, Kevin’s expression seemed to grow a little darker.

“Still, maybe I shouldn’t have brought Helena here after all. She absolutely insisted on coming, so I relented, but with the guns looking so real, that…… I wonder if it’ll remind her of that incident.”

Albert could sense what he was trying to say.

“For that, I sincerely apologise. This event must seem somewhat inappropriate after what she went through.”

Hearing Albert take his remark so seriously, Kevin tried to explain himself in a fluster.

“N-No, it’s alright, I did not mean it as criticism. Besides, Helena seemed to be especially enjoying herself too.”

“Nonetheless, please allow me to apologise, for it may be the case that she’s simply putting up a strong front.”

At that, Kevin cocked his head in confusion.

“……Then, why did you decide to hold this game?”

Albert’s reply sounded almost as if he was speaking to himself.

“——Because it’s part of our ‘plan’.”

“Huh?”

Unsure of the meaning behind that word, the question fell from his lips before he could stop himself. But Albert did not elaborate further.

The conversation had unwittingly ground to a halt. Just as Kevin was searching for a different topic to talk about, Albert’s sharp gaze landed on a nearby thicket.

“There’s someone there.”

“Huh? Really?”

Bewildered, Kevin looked in the same direction. Then they heard the sound of leaves rustling, and the undergrowth parted to reveal an elderly nobleman.

Seeing the person before them, Albert lowered his gun. A warm smile rose to his face.

“……So it was you, Lord Andy. I thought you were the enemy.” [1]

“Hello, Albert-kun. Just for fun, I thought I’d hide and see how long it took you both to spot me, but it seems you discovered me instantly. As expected of the young, your perceptiveness is incredibly sharp,” he laughed, ruffling his own short white hair. He was also on the same team as Albert and Kevin.

The elderly nobleman was Andy Krueger, whose estate extended across the surrounding lands; he also owned the hunting grounds on which the game was being held. Today’s game had been brought into reality after Albert proposed the idea to him.

For such an important gathering on the social calendar, one would normally be hesitant to transform it into an unorthodox event like this. But Andy had jumped at the offer, and even offered his opinions on the finer points of the game. Because of this generous and broad-minded nature of his, he also had the trust of the other nobles.

At the man’s arrival, for some reason, Kevin sighed in relief.

“Please don’t surprise me like that — unlike Lord Albert, I was frightened half to death.”

“Sorry about that, Kevin-kun. But aren’t you being too timid? Have a little more nerve!”

“I’ll do my best.”

At their friendly banter, Albert seemed curious.

“Are both of you already acquainted?”

“Yes,” Kevin affirmed. “We got to know each other when Helena’s father and I were gaining recognition in London. Ever since that time, the nobility had not looked fondly upon us, and only Lord Andy treated us as equals.”

Kevin looked gratefully at the nobleman as he said this, and Andy clapped his shoulder heartily.

“Those aristocrats are really quite averse to the changing times, it seems. But I have no interest in such dreadful traditions. Even at the gathering earlier, they were keeping their distance and saying such rude things that I had to tell them off. Although I hadn’t seen them in a while, because of that, I didn’t even get a chance to say hello— Ah, apologies.”

“No, it’s fine, Lord Andy. You don’t have to apologise,” Kevin said, waving both hands in the air. “Rather, after hearing that you went to such lengths for a good-for-nothing like me, I’m truly grateful.”

“What’s this? Timid as ever, I see,” Andy barked. “You’re an excellent businessman, so why not act like it?”

Then the elderly nobleman’s expression, which had been cheerful thus far, clouded over just a little.

“Nevertheless, I still feel sorry for your friend. At least, his daughter Helena seems to be doing well…… Have there been no clues even now?”

Kevin’s tone also grew heavy.

“……None at all. Helena believes he’s alive, but personally, I think he’s no longer……”

“He’d suddenly vanished, didn’t he?”

Out of the blue, Albert cut in. The two men were startled, but Albert continued with a somewhat knowing look.

“After the incident at the department store, I became curious, and tried doing some research into it myself. It seems there are various peculiarities about this case. For one, the store Helena’s father opened with Mr Kevin had been a success, but one day, he simply disappeared without warning. On the night he was thought to have disappeared, when he was having dinner at home, a friend testified that nothing had seemed particularly off about him.”

“Moreover, that was the last time I saw him. I never thought it would be the last conversation we’d have together……”

Kevin — the friend who’d testified — said so in a thin voice, the corners of his mouth twitching as if in self-mockery.

“Of course, at first, the police suspected that I had something to do with it. They even went to the trouble of thinking up a motive: that as a co-owner, I would stand to gain all the store’s profits if he were to disappear.”

Thinking back to that false accusation, Kevin’s shoulders drooped. Seeing that, Andy addressed him in a droll voice.

“Come now, you never know — one day he might just come home all of a sudden. I’ve told you before: there’s nothing we can do at present, and on top of that, worrying unnecessarily will only injure your health.”

“……You’re right. Besides, we’re supposed to be having fun right now: if I’m the only one being so grave, I’ll just be putting a damper on things.”

“Exactly, exactly. Well then, let’s get back to the game,” Andy urged, thumping him on the back.

Albert, who had been watching their exchange with a calm gaze, smiled gently.

“Indeed; let us focus on the competition first. By the way, it’s about time for us to get our blood pumping…… I’d like to advance deeper into enemy territory. What say you two?”

At his invitation, Kevin quickly shook his head.

“No no no! Frankly, since the start of the game, my heart’s felt like it’s about to explode! Anything more than this and it’ll stop altogether!”

But the elderly nobleman threw his head back in hearty laughter.

“You young people have so much energy, it’s making me jealous. Kevin-kun, you’ve got to watch and learn as well.”

“No…… When I think about what lies ahead, somehow my legs can’t stop shaking,” Kevin murmured weakly. His legs were indeed trembling pitifully, so much so it wouldn’t be surprising for them to give out any moment now.

Andy sighed, as if astonished.

“It can’t be helped then. Sorry, Albert-kun — it seems he can’t go on. I’d like to say that I’ll go with you in his stead, but…… for some reason, my legs have been hurting for a while now. Despite my high spirits, my years have bested me today,” he laughed wryly, his expression weak.

Albert nodded firmly.

“I understand. Well then, let’s part ways here. I wish you both the best of luck.”

“T-Take care……”

Watching Albert’s brave figure as he walked gallantly into the depths of the forest, Kevin felt ashamed at his own cowardice once again.

Scoreboard

🔹 Blue team: Albert, Jack, Fred, William, Kevin, Andy

🔺 Red team: Moran, Bond, Louis, Helena

Footnotes:

[1] Andy’s title is not formally given in the story, but judging from the amount of land he owns, I think it’s safe to say that he’s a member of the peerage like Albert, and hence should be addressed as “Lord Andy”. (Wikipedia)

[spooky-z]

HIT

Maribat by @ozmav

Warnings: aggression and language

Almost 3K.

All Marinette could see was red, purple and yellow against pale skin.

It was mostly red, the edges already becoming purple and around a sick yellow.

She could blink, look away, try to think of something else, but the image was glued to her eyes.

The anger burning under the skin, the blood running hot in her veins, heart beating angrily against her ribs. She could feel the metallic taste of the cut that her teeth opened on her lip.

Marinette had never felt more hatred for anyone than she did at that moment.

She wanted to jump the jugular and pull out the trachea with her teeth.

The urge to kill.

"... you better get away from her." Damian growled. His face contorted with disgust.

“Who do you think you are to intrude on a family affair?!” Audrey Bourgeois stood, arrogant and pompous, glancing disdainfully at the Pack.

Chloe by her side, her eyes puffy, hair down shadowing her face and lips trembling from holding back the crying. The handprint on the pale cheek was obvious and clearly visible despite the hair to cover.

She didn't dare look at her friends. At the pack. The humiliation was a heavy feeling, seeming worse every moment she heard the shutter sound of a phone camera toward her.

Dupont would have something to talk about for weeks now.

"... who does he think he is?!" Kagami says. She was the only one who seemed coolly calm. "Who YOU think you are." There were more than sharp words coming out. There were canines becoming sharper by the moment and a lack of control going on.

Audrey seems offended by the girl’s words.

"Lower your tone, young lady." She replies. Her tone was threatening. “Do you know who you are talking to? I'm Audrey Bourgeois, one of the greatest designers of the world. Wife of the mayor of Paris. And I can end your family's life in two seconds.”

Adrien smiles mockingly at the woman's words. "I'd love to see that happen... Auntie."

The woman chokes offended at the nickname, but doesn't seem surprised by the boy's behavior.

She raises her eyebrow.

"When Gabriel told me that you were in your rebel phase and that you were taking Chloe the wrong way, I really didn't believe it." She says. "But I see this time he has some reason to warn me."

The Pack grunts at the man's name.

"I knew that piece of trash wouldn't be quiet." Max mutters venomously.

"It's time we put an end to this old man." Kim mumbles back.

Audrey seemed to tire of all the little show they were giving Dupont's students and grabbed Chloe's arm, trying to pull the girl into the limo parked on the sidewalk.

“Come on Chloe, you have to pack your bags. We leave for New York today.” She turns, ignoring the Pack.

Something pops in Marinette, because all she can do is slap Audrey's hand away from Chloe and put herself between them. She probably looked like a wild animal right now.

The stylist shrugs her arm, holding her injured hand. Red face in indignation.

"Don't touch her." Marinette says. "Or I'll be forced to do something you won't like."

“Oh? What are you going to do? Tell your parents? You're nobody, little girl.” Audrey laughs sarcastically. “Chloe, let's go. Now."

"Nette, please, I don't want you to get in trouble." Chloe whispers, the pain was clear in the words.

The sound that comes from Marinette's chest is animalistic. The sound made the Pack shudder with the force and the dark feeling dripping into it.

Marinette would not let Chloe be taken. Not by Audrey, at least.

She doesn't look away from the adult Bourgeois before firing commands at the Pack.

"Damian, call Richard." The boy is quick to pick up the phone. “Adrien, call Clark and Lois. Let them know they can release that story in the newspaper.” The blonde doesn't even blink at the command. “Kim, Max and Luka, take Chloe to my house and don't let her out of sight.” Max and Kim surround Chloe and she gets carried away.

"Are you sure you want me to go, Mari?" Luka asks quietly, hesitating to leave. He knew that Damian and Adrien were not good at being Marinette's conscience in difficult situations. "I can stay and Adrien go with Chloe."

Marinette waves denying it. She looks at him just fast enough to calm him down before turning her attention back to Audrey.

“Kagami will stay with me and can keep me from doing something extreme.” Responds. "Chloe will need you more now."

“Alright, bu-”

"I'll call if I need support." Kagami is quick to answer him.

Luka hesitates for two more seconds before running after the other three who were waiting in the car with Auguste (aka Gorilla).

When only Damian, Marinette, Adrien and Kagami were left with Audrey (besides the audience watching), Marinette calmed down. The heated air was suddenly getting cold.

She was ready to attack.

“Do you really think hiding Chloe from me is going to work? I am her mother! The first lady! I run this town!” Audrey starts to scream. "Nothing you do will stop me from taking my daughter away from this... filthy relationship going on here."

Kagami steps forward wanting to attack the woman, but Adrien holds her hand and she stops, coming back to herself.

Damian had hung up the phone signaling an "OK" with his fingers.

"How about you shut up?" He says. “Keep talking will only make your situation worse.”

“Make my situation worse? What the hell are you talking about?!”

"He's talking about you getting arrested." Marinette replies without emotion. "Assault on a minor, threats, conspiracy with another adult to kidnap a child... There is a long list of your crimes."

Audrey looks attacked by Marinette's words, but also snorts in confusion.

“Conspiracy to kidnap a child?!” She grits her teeth. “Look at me and tell me if I look like someone who kidnaps someone! She is my daughter and I have the right to take her wherever I want when I want.”

Adrien laughs cynically at the woman.

"Not. You don't have.” He says. "Do you remember signing a document giving Chloe full custody to the mayor after signing the divorce a few months ago?"

"How-"

“Yeah, we know you are no longer the mayor's wife and you have no right to do what you did. If you left the country with Chloe without André's written permission, it would become a kidnapping.” Kagami cuts her off.

“She's my daughter!” Audrey stomps her foot.

"No, she is not. You gave up that right and now you hit her.” Damian growls. "You're lucky that murder is against the law, because otherwise..." He whispers deadly, but she can hear.

Audrey turns pale at the boy's words. Seeming to notice for the first time that the four teenagers had equal expressions of hate.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but the sound of police car sirens interrupted her and soon Dick was getting out of the car with Roger.

"Good afternoon." The Parisian cop politely greets, Dick nods without saying anything. “We received a complaint of public disorder and aggression against a minor.”

Audrey, knowing she would be in trouble, tries to get out of the situation by playing the victim.

"Officers, please, those brats went crazy and kidnapped my daughter!" There was a fake tear running down her cheek.

"What?!" Damian complains indignantly. "This crazy woman who was trying to kidnap one of us!"

Roger seemed frankly unsure of what to do, while Dick was watching the scene analytically. He was probably choosing the best way to end Audrey Bourgeois in front of everyone.

"What? No! You who kidnapped my Chloe and assaulted me!” She pointed her finger theatrically. “They threatened me, officer! Me! The first lady!”

"Madam, please." Roger takes Audrey by the shoulders and the woman makes an expression of disgust at the gesture. “Let's calm down. This confusion is attracting a much bigger audience than before.”

Only then does Audrey seem to notice that not only did Dupont's students watch (and film), but pedestrians passing by stopped to watch the confusion.

A TVi car getting closer and closer to guarantee the gossip of the day.

"Great! So, everyone learns about the sordid behavior that this school promotes towards students and how it corrupted my daughter!”

“Audrey Bourgeois-“ Marinette takes a step forward, looking at the woman and shaking her head. "Sorry! I meant Audrey Bisset.” She winks conspiratorially with the stylist's offended expression. "Here are your options."

She holds up a finger to signal "1" and begins, a soft voice.

"The first option is for you to leave now, without making another scene and we will not report you to these kind officers here."

The middle finger raises following the index finger. The "2".

"The second is that you continue and we are obliged to report you."

The ring finger raises to "3".

"Or I can just release very intimate files of yours on the internet and in the press, if you insist." Marinette lowers her arm and crosses the two behind her back, in a timid gesture. “Look, I knew you had some skeletons in the closet, but wow! What we found is enough to buy the entire IKEA and there is still no closet to store the bones.”

Roger, despite not appearing to like what Marinette was talking about, was curious about what she knew.

He was never a fan of Audrey Bourgeois for the way the woman treated her husband and daughter. Roger hated it every time Sabrina came home crying because Chloe had been particularly mean to her due to Audrey's influence.

The woman forced herself to be as unpleasant as possible and did not seem to have a drop of love in her heart.

Just greed and status.

“What.” Audrey babbles.

"Evan Halle." Kagami throws the name in the air, relaxed.

Audrey gets two shades paler. "How do you-"

"Laurence Green." Adrien continues.

The woman's skin changes to a greenish tone.

"Alright! I'm leaving!" She screams. "But you have to promise that the press will not know those names!"

"Deal!" Marinette waves happily. A sweet, very sweet smile, on the lips.

Audrey puts the sunglasses back on her face, composing herself. She pretends not to notice the press filming everything live for viewers at home and turns to get into the limo.

"Odette Han." Dick finally speaks and with that Audrey seems ready to run at any moment. “This is part of some of the names listed in the files. You will have to accompany us to the police station.”

He steps in front of her, preventing Audrey from trying to escape. Roger followed his movement and took the stylist by the arm.

“It will be good if you collaborate with us. Otherwise, we will be forced to handcuff you in front of everyone.” He says when Audrey tries to break free.

She looks at Marinette, anger in her expression and her eyes are wet with humiliation.

"You said you wouldn't let anyone know!" She rages at Marinette, losing her composure for the first time.

She struggles in Roger's grip, wanting to move forward on Marinette, but the man has an iron grip on the woman's arm and she stops.

Damian smirks. A dangerous look.

"She said she wouldn't release it in the press or on the internet." He answers. "And I believe that she is fulfilling the agreement, since the police are not part of the press."

Dick takes the opportunity to put the handcuffs on Audrey's wrists. “And she won't be the one to tell the press. It will be me.”

When Audrey starts struggling again trying to break free, Roger drags her into the police car. Leaving Dick with the teenagers.

“Thank you so much for your help, Richard. She wouldn't give up on Chloe if you hadn't arrived.” Marinette sighs a smile.

Dick raises an eyebrow, seeming not at all convinced by the false sincerity in the girl's words. He knew she could be quite manipulative when needed.

"You're welcome." He answers. “We were lucky to have obtained these files before she arrived in Paris. Chloe will be safe now.”

Kagami snorts. "What are you talking about? Chloe was always safe. Audrey only touched her because that was the plan.”

"Yes! And everything came out the way we planned!” Adrien claps the hands, a huge smile on his face.

"The slap was much stronger than imagined, but it gave the effect we wanted." Damian nods sharply. "The anger I felt when I saw the mark was genuine."

Dick's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wait, did you know this was going to happen?"

“Duh. Of course." Marinette replies. “Appearing at school all together and happy. We knew there would be gossip, especially nasty gossip from our class.” She rolls her eyes. "So, we took advantage of that knowing that Lila wouldn't be quiet and we let her get closer to Gabriel."

“But how were you sure he was going to talk to Audrey? I thought they didn't get along.”

"Because Gabriel likes to be in control." Kagami speaks. “He doesn't like to be told. Especially if the people giving the order are children.”

“My father wants to isolate me. If I lose all my friends, he will be able to regain control over me as before.”

"So, Gabriel, thinking that Audrey would take Chloe away from us, warns the woman about an "orgy" involving only daughter she has and she comes running to save her." Damian continues.

“But you didn't need evidence of the crimes she committed to get her away from Chloe. She had no right, so she would be arrested even if you didn't do anything.” Dick crosses his arms. "So why all this staging?"

Marinette smiles, a dark mood shining in the blueberry eyes.

"Because that way we send a message to everyone, especially Gabriel."

"And what message would that be?" Dick questions.

"Never mess with the Pack."

The “otherwise” was left unsaid, but the meaning was clear.

EXTRA 1:

"I didn't know you could be such a good actress, Apis." Kim praises Chloe, eyes glued to the news channel.

The girl snorts. "I am good at everything."

Max jumps on the couch, turning up the sound of the TV when a footage (probably from a cell phone, if judged by the image quality), particularly good of Chloe's marked face, appeared on the screen.

"Fuck." He swears in wonder. "It looks a lot worse on TV."

Luka sits next to the three and places the ice pack gently on Chloe's face, who moans gratefully.

That hurt like hell.

"I didn't think Audrey would be that strong." Luka comments. "Your face will be swollen for a few days, Apis."

"All for the greater good." She sighs.

They would have no more to worry about for a while.

EXTRA 2:

"What the hell was this all about?" Ivan grumbles.

“Why was Chloe's mother arrested? Anybody know?" Rose asks.

Alix swallows a sigh when she sees Nadja Chamack announce that Audrey Bisset has been arrested for promoting slave labor in her clothing line, bribery and blackmail.

"Guys, come see this!" She calls.

They were all gathered on Juleka's boat (thinking that Chloe had gone there with Luka) wanting to know what it was all about in front of the school.

"Damn it. The mayor's wife is hardcore." Nino whistles in surprise.

"It looks like they're not together anymore." Alya says. Eyes glued to the cell phone. “The mayor filed for divorce five months ago and took custody of Chloe. It looked like she wanted to take Chloe to New York without his permission and then the police were called.”

"But how did he know that?" Nathaniel asks. "That she was trying to get Chloe out of Paris?"

"Hm... It says here that 'friends concerned about the physical and emotional integrity of the mayor's daughter, called the police and made the report'." Juleka reads aloud.

"They?" Sabrina asks.

"They." Alya waves.

Lila couldn't help thinking that Marinette's group was unpleasantly scary. They didn't seem to take any effort to break down the obstacles on the way.

She feared for when her time came.

Because she was not stupid.

Her time was coming.

[tag list]

@northernbluetongue​ @gimme-more-caffeine @kris-pines04​ @drarryismylife101​ @puzzlelover431​ @18-fandoms-unite-08​ @krispydefendorpolice​ @asheanomhominem​  @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @cutechip​ @just-an-avarage-nerds-blog​ @lirulua​ @j-a-n-e-d-o-e @naclychilli​ @the-blindwatcher​ @xxmdsxx​ @emootaku-666​ @nicknnie​​ @multplelifes​​ @slytherinhquinn​​ @caffeinetheory​​ @clumsy-owl-4178​​ @k-poplunardreams​​ @moonystars14​​ @damianette-is-life​​ @

[jeonqquk]

i think i love you | pjm

pairing- jimin x reader genre/tags- fluff, a lil bit of angst, jimin doesn’t know he loves yn, yuna being the cupid she is rating- 13+ word count- 2k words

Your sullen gaze meets Taehyung’s, his hazel eyes slightly widening in shock and- you spot- worry. You’re sitting at one of the round tables covered with the silky white cloth, plum coloured dress starting to crease from the lengthy amount of time you’d been sitting. At the party. Jisung had wanted to celebrate his graduation with his close friends and family too, so him being your colleague at the bakery you worked at had invited all of your limited staff members. You had thought that it was going to be held at a bar but he had surprised all of you by saying that you would be celebrating in a nice restaurant. Hence, you were wearing the velvet dress with the matching heels Jimin had gotten you for your second anniversary.

Jimin. 

Your heart hurt thinking about him, his sweet smile, chocolate eyes and all the other perfect traits about him filling your head. You missed him, a lot. But knew that your break up was good for the both of you. The two of you had dated for 4 years before something just seemed off, it gradually increased and soon, the two of you were just barely having time for each other. The relationship wasn’t healthy, but don’t take it the wrong way! You really loved Jimin and were very satisfied with him for a long time but then, because of your jobs and other work, you just weren’t having time for Jimin. He never abused you or anything. Oh, heck no. 

The break-up had been better than your previous ones, honestly. It had occurred at your doorstep- not the best place- but Jimin hadn’t thrown a fit, unlike your previous partners and gotten angry about your decision. In fact, he had acted maturely, one of the things you absolutely admired him for and had said “I had been thinking about this too..” There had been no crying and you were glad that Jimin and you were still on good terms despite being exes. He was dating Yuna now, and really, you were happy for him. She obviously made him very glad and you had never wanted anything other than happiness for Jimin, even if it meant sacrificing your own. 

Suddenly feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you get up hurriedly. As you run out, you even ignore Jimin who confusedly reaches his hand out before you’re disappearing outside. You reach the small lawn outside and breathe in, trying to relax yourself.

You hated yourself, the lone reason being that you still had feelings for Jimin. You didn’t know why, how or when. All you knew was that you still loved Jimin, even if the end was 50% of your decision. But knowing that you couldn’t do anything about your unwanted feelings for your ex, you had always kept this to yourself. Just after you officially let him go, you instantly began regretting your decision.

We may have been going through a rough patch but we could work it out. 

No amount of bars you drank at helped you forget about your stupid decision but your mind still kept going back to when he said that he too thought that you should break up. He wouldn’t have been happy in the relationship. 

Sighing loudly, you’re too lost in your own thoughts consuming you that you don’t notice someone walking towards you. The feeling of a jacket being draped over your shoulder makes you realise that with a jolt and you identify who the clothing belongs to even without looking at it. The smell gave it all away.

Jimin.

Turning around with wide eyes, you see Jimin standing behind you with his hands in his trouser pockets. His gaze is curious and you quickly run over all the lies you could tell him to get out of the situation. The situation being him asking you why you had run out of the restaurant without any words and even ignored him You feel a pang of guilt in your gut- partially from the fact that you know that you’re now gonna lie to him. And hopefully, even get away with it. 

You’re in the middle of opening your mouth to tell him that you were suddenly feeling dizzy which is why you headed out without informing anyone but a certain song reaches your ears. 

It doesn’t take you even half a second to realise which song it was and before you know it, your eyes are welling up with tears threatening to spill out of your eyes again. The emotions all suddenly burst and a tear slides down your cheek. 

Jimin stares at you in shock, before immediately springing into action and pulling you into him. His arms tightly wrapped around you, your head is buried in his chest, and this certain feeling has you pressing yourself closer to him.

As much as you’re enjoying this, you know that Jimin is dating someone else and although his intentions are obviously very innocent, you don’t know if you can hold yourself back from confessing your love for him right now. 

Unwillingly and reluctantly, you break the hug, the melody of the song that had been playing when Jimin first kissed you at prom still filling your ears. “Our song..” you mumble and he nods, “I thought they didn’t play anything other than The Police.” he chuckles at your words and his lips part softly, “I had to pay them 20 bucks.” your eyes widen at his words and you lift your head to meet his gaze.

“Will you dance with me?” the memories of all the other times he had asked you to move rhythmically to the beat of a song come flooding back in and you almost nod, before stopping yourself when you remember that a Yuna also existed. 

“Jimin..” his pleading eyes make it specifically tough to reject his very tempting offer. “No, we can’t. You’re dating Yuna..” you trail off at the mention of her name and Jimin immediately rushes to speak, shocking you. 

“I broke up with her.” He himself looks surprised that he said this but after a few second of the two of you just staring at each other, he closes his eyes for a split second. “Y/n, will you dance with me?”

“You broke up with Yuna?” you completely ignore his question and settle for asking him another one instead. Making no effort to hide the astonishmnet in your voice, you look at Jimin expectantly, and he keeps his hand on your waist, the butterflies in your stomach becoming unbearable at this point. “Yeah, we broke up with each other, to be completely honest.”

2 hours ago

“Do you still have feelings for her?” Yuna had never been one to beat around the bush- and Jimin was well acquainted with that- but the sudden straightforwardness she confronted him with left him breathless. “W-What?” he hated stuttering, but this was so out of the blue, he couldn’t help it. They had been cheerily talking to some friends when Yuna had asked Jimin if she could ‘have a moment’ with him. He had agreed and looked at her in worry for any problem she may have been having. 

Instead, she had roughly kissed him. Desperately. Her fingers tangled in his hair and Jimin had responded, grabbing her waist but something about the kiss just seemed off. He tried brushing it aside and leaned into her, pressing her into the wall of the small room they were in. Yuna quickly broke the kiss and looked at Jimin for his reaction, his fake smile not convincing her. Don’t get him wrong, Jimin really did like Yuna but just couldn’t picture a future with her. Whenever he had thought about waking up next to his future wife and smothering his children’s faces with smooches- the woman had always been you and their kids had acquired your pretty eyes. He didn’t know why, but supposed that it was because he had spent most of his dating life with you. 

Coming back to the present, Yuna let go of Jimin’s black tie and looked down at her feet, gaze not meeting Jimin’s. Looking at her in confusion, he tried lifting his girlfriend’s face to meet his and was met by the one question he had never expected her to ask.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” Jimin was taken aback and scrambled to form coherent sentences as Yuna looked at him in disappointment. She knew all about you and how Jimin and you had shared a very special bond before breaking off. She also knew that somewhere deep in his heart, where Jimin had buried all of his feelings for you, he was still in love with you. One might ask why she had still agreed to date him and her answer was simple. To make the stupid boy realise that he still loved you. It was true that she liked Jimin but similar to him, she just didn’t think he was the one for her. 

She tells him this right now, and he’s left astounded once again, this thought never having crossed his mind. 

“R-really?” Yuna nods with a sad smile on her face and watches Jimin’s face lose all colour. “Hey, hey. Jimin, look at me. I’m sorry okay? I know this was stupid but I know that you still love Y/n.” Jimin sighs loudly and tugs at his hair, a habit many people around him had gotten accustomed to. 

“I think I still love her..” Yuna laughs at Jimin’s obliviousness at his own feelings and puts a hand on his shoulder as he resolutely nods to himself before meeting Yuna’s eyes. 

“Okay. So, I’m going to have to break up with you..” his voice falters at his words that didn’t sound so bad in his head but continues anyways “A-And then I’m going to tell Y/n how I feel.” the plan sounds terrible but he has to confess as soon as possible or he might lose his mind. Yuna just nods along with a pitiful smile on her face, she obviously knows that Jimin’s plan was messed up. 

“Go get her.” she whispers and Jimin is instantly running off to where he saw you walk out.

“Oh..” you’re at a loss for words and it takes you a full minute to regain your composure before your tongue darts out to lick your dry lips. Hugging Jimin’s jacket closer to your body, you revel in the amazing scent. Jimin opens his mouth but no sound comes out and he ends up closing it. A silence falls over the two of you. 

“Dance with me?” this is the third time he’s asking you and this time, you waste no time in nodding, the coat he had so graciously given you almost falling from your shoulders in the hurry.

Jimin’s hands land on your waist and yours find purchase on his shoulders. He moves both your bodies to the slow tune and you muster the courage to lean in closer. He smirks and you just look at his godly features, plush lips inviting and brown orbs piercing directly through your soul. 

You don’t know who initiates the kiss but before you can comprehend it, Jimin’s lips are meeting yours. His arms move to wrap around your waist completely, walking you backwards to someplace you didn’t know.

“Ji-Jimin..” he breaks off with a sweet chu and you simply stare at the beautiful boy in front of you, unable to believe that what was happening was real. “Be my girlfriend again?” his cheeky smile makes it hard to resist pinching his cheeks and you nod with a shy smile. 

You both decide not to go back inside and just spend time with each other for now. You try returning his jacket but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he makes you wear it again and hugs you from behind as the two of you walk on the silent street back to his house. 

His ‘I love you’ is muffled by your hair but you still hear it, smiling and replying with a short kiss to his lips. “I like how your chapstick tastes.” he snorts in response, but the sides of his lips still curl upwards.

“It’s strawberry flavoured, I’ll buy you one too.”

thanks for reading! please send in feedback through asks or dms :)

pReSS dIs gReen ReCyClE BuTtOn. iT WoNt hUrT, pRess dIs bUttON. thE HuRt bUttOn aNd TheN ThE GrEeN ArrOw bUttoN. 

[neonponders]

I started writing this very niche au ages ago that @booksfoxesandcoffee and @demogirlfriend tinkered with lol​ it’s not quite what I wanted, but at least it’s done ~

Based on my post for This Steve with This Billy:

vampire/musician!Steve and mobster!Billy.

TW for briefly mentioned drugs and all manner of vampire things.

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

If Billy were being honest with himself, it wasn’t the man’s looks that hooked him. The way a superior dancer stands out in the ensemble, it was the musician’s energy that made Billy’s eyes keep finding him.

Every business that opened his his territory went through Billy’s strict legislature. And the whole city was his to play king.

He didn’t consider himself a strict businessman, but he did attend the new club with regularity to make sure they had what they needed to succeed. If they couldn’t succeed, then they’d have to rebuild elsewhere.

They did succeed. Because they had Steve Harrington.

On paper, he was lead guitarist. An instrumentalist. Vocalist if necessary. Billy Hargrove knew he shined in neon stage lighting and his special trick was swinging the instrument around his body so the guitar switched sides halfway through a song or riff, proving ambidextrous dexterity.

Billy knew Harrington was hard to get ahold of. So far, he’d hosted every member of the band and every guest musician at his VIP table. Harrington always had reasons for leaving directly after a show, which surprised Billy. The man’s band mates clearly revolved around him, looked to him for timing cues, and Billy even had the unique experience of seeing the man smack a drink out of the bassist’s hand because the guy could barely stand.

There was a personality there, and Billy wanted to see it up close. Taste it.

Somehow, Harrington had even avoided being invited to Billy’s table during the mid-show break. Always conveniently disappearing until the second he needed to be on stage.

Until now.

Billy’s guards stood up when Harrington approached with someone held firmly by the scruff of his shirt and jacket. Billy waved them aside, and the musician dumped the guy into Billy’s booth. Some heads turned in their direction, curious for drama but not for long. Anyone who hung around Billy, hungering for his attention, knew to be careful about annoying him.

“Is this one of yours?” Harrington prompted.

“Why would he be?” Billy inquired with a lethargic blink.

“I thought your sort had more class than distributing roofies.”

Billy’s pleased, large feline demeanor sloughed off as he turned his head to the man in his booth. Billy didn’t bother negating Harrington’s accusations. Anybody with sense knew who he was. The only thing that bothered Billy at the moment was the use of some nobody to get the musician’s attention.

“You’re right. He isn’t.”

Just like that, the guards lifted the sorry soul out of his booth and began ushering him out of the club. He made a weak attempt at promising an ability to make Billy money, but the latter wasn’t interested in a business centered around dangerous sex. Billy considered himself a purveyor of the opposite; of passion, and real passion only came when all parties were conscious for it.

“Steve.”

The musician paused to look back at him, already on his way back to the greenroom or wherever he hid in between performances.

“Sit with me.”

Steve’s gaze flicked down to the now available seat next to Billy. “No, thanks.”

As if he could - 

He did.

Steve walked away from the table. Billy saw the more discretely dressed guards loitering in the crowd turn and begin to approach Harrington...before distinctly letting him pass.

It was not a regular day that Billy Hargrove’s employees feared someone else more than him.

He pressed his back into the booth, and one of the women sitting along the back of the booth leaned down to hear him. “I want his file.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. It took no time at all for her to return to his table with Harrington’s business papers. Typical tax form, resume, no cover letter but instead a CD with his music samples.

“What about his background?”

Her nails raked through her long, black hair. She played the part of groupie very well. “We don’t have anything yet.”

Billy found that hard to believe. “He’s worked here for weeks.”

She shrugged a bare, shimmering shoulder. “He hides very well. We’ll have something soon.”

Not soon enough.

Billy took to wandering his club instead of sitting. Why they didn’t just haul the musician into Billy’s office for questioning…no sensible person detonates a bomb without knowing the area is clear. They didn’t know enough about Steve. Whether he belonged to a family scouting the borough before encroaching on Billy’s property.

Would it be their fault for sending in a mole without honoring the proper channels? Yes.

Would it be Billy’s fault for starting an underground war for harming Steve first? Also yes.

So he watched. So he waited. And he began to enjoy this game he and Steve had developed. Because Steve wasn’t as oblivious. He looked pretty—the kind of pretty that some mistake as dumb—but Steve had proven in many, subtle ways just how observant he could be.

The way he managed his band members’ alcohol or obvious drug addictions.

The second time he hauled some petty dealer over to Billy’s booth.

When he flipped Billy off as he walked away after Billy tested, “I noticed you like brunettes.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Steve watched Billy. And Billy watched Steve. At least, Billy suspected. Billy hoped.

The confirmation arrived in the humid alleyway behind his club. He was already itching for a fight. For the last two weeks, a new asshole had been loitering around and inside his business. No one had yet been able to catch him doing anything—until Billy followed him out of the wrong exit. Nobody could use service doors at the back of the building; it was both a safety hazard for civilians to be in the way of delivery trucks, and any squeals about people coming and going from there would have the police riding Billy’s tail.

Then the bastard had the audacity to take two girls who were definitely sporting fake id’s outside.

He slammed the service door against the brick exterior to get their attention. All three of them were huddled and necking between two garbage bins. A real class act.

“Jail bait bimbos, get inside. This asshole can lock himself in a concrete box without your…help.”

The distinct memory of Steve delivering roofy dealers to him flashed in his brain at the sight of the blissed out girls using the alley walls to stay upright. The memory flew out into the main street at the glistening darkness on both of their necks, dripping into their low cut shirts.

In the window of Billy’s surprise, the guy attacked. Slammed Billy right against the other side of the alley, knocking the air out of him—

Billy’s brain couldn’t keep up. But his eyes could.

A large hand gripped the gelled hair and wrenched the guy’s head so far back that Billy heard a threatening pop.

Billy had never stood next to Steve before. He stood just a little taller than Billy—both smaller than the impressive figure he’d watched so many times on stage, but also bigger because he’d never been this close…

Billy was officially having trouble breathing as he watched the man’s wide eyes darting around his sockets despite his broken neck and the disgusting angle of his windpipe.

“This spot’s taken. Tell your hovel to skip town. You won’t get a fourth chance.”

Fourth?

Billy’s eyes stuck on the bloody, long teeth in the man’s gullet before Steve shoved him down the alley. The man landed several yards away—no ordinary shove—but he hauled ass to his feet, head lolling on his shoulders with more sickening crackles.

Billy remained stationary as Steve fixed the shirts and jackets falling on the girls’ shoulders went to hail a cab. One of them recovered faster than the other, and hauled her friend into the vehicle. By this time, Billy managed to say, “What will they do with those stained shirts?”

Steve looked at him, suddenly looking remarkably…normal. Even startled, like he’d forgotten Billy was there. He didn’t hold Billy’s gaze, instead looking a bit downward—

“What will you do about yours?”

Billy frowned, blinking twice before he looked down at himself. It took him a moment to see the difference in his dark blue button-up. But he glistened like the girls did. Slowly, his mind caught up and realized how warm the side of his neck felt, and how gross. Wet. Dry. Sticky. Crusting.

“How did I not even notice?”

Like a dream clinging onto his waking consciousness, the blurry numbness subsided, and Billy realized his throat really fucking hurt.

Steve’s gaze dropped even further, tilting away from Billy as he pointed at the doors. “Go and clean yourself up. Go home.”

Leave it to Billy Hargrove’s pride to stack his spine back together. He stepped off the alley wall and into Steve’s space.

“Don’t—” he turned his face further to the side.

“Explain,” Billy ordered, even as Steve’s hand lifted to cover his mouth.

Steve shook his head a little. “I don’t have to,” he muffled and lifted weary eyes. “Clean yourself up.”

The answers were right there. Yet it seemed…stupid to say any of it out loud. How many movies? Book? Shows?

Instead he said, “Show me.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “You don’t play with bears like this.”

Billy laughed. He laughed Steve all the way out of the alleyway. Billy only regretted this when the next evening, the secretaries of the business ran through the week’s itinerary. Steve wasn’t scheduled.

A long week progressed of Billy thinking over that night. How the hell a guardian angel with teeth and no wings lived his nights in Billy’s cage and Billy had just…taunted him into slipping right out of the bars.

When another week presented itself with still no sight of his musician, Billy knew he would have more than one inconvenience on his plate. His customers liked Steve. Statistically, the club was fit to bursting since a third more clientele showed up for the band’s gigs. Steve made the barkeeps laugh in between numbers. Billy had always thought he used the alcohol in the greenroom instead of taking up the bars’ time.

Instead he dropped rats right into the king’s lap. Creatures Billy never would have seen unless Steve made them visible.

“Schedule Steve’s group on Sunday.”

His secretary frowned at him. “Am I missing something? We’re off on Sundays.”

“He knows that. Just use whatever number he gave you.”

Billy waited behind the club. Perhaps he should have arranged a specific meeting time instead of just the vague Sunday, but…Steve was punctual to his usual call time. Billy heard his footsteps the same moment the lighter in his hands crackled softly under his cigarette.

Steve approached with his hands in his jean pockets. Then he entered the harsh lighting of the motion-detected beams above the doors. “You don’t look good.”

Because he didn’t. Steve made tired look good but he had met the line between tired and haggard. His lips were chapped and the lights above him put his eye sockets into harsh contrast. Billy missed the lush face he watched bathed in neon stage lights.

Steve only met Billy’s gaze briefly before looking back down the alley. “Haven’t been to the grocery store lately.”

“By ‘groceries,’ do you mean my place?”

“And if I do, then what?”

Billy smirked as easily as blinking. “I don’t recall firing you. You didn’t have to run—”

“Yes, I did. Dipshit.”

Billy moved his tongue over his teeth while he grinned. “Why didn’t you finish what he started? Three easy meals right there.”

“And swell up like a mosquito? Gross.”

Smoke sputtered out of his mouth. “You’re not what I expected. In any regard. It’s a wonder my employees haven’t been inspired by your recklessness. Or my letting you get away with it.”

“There’s no letting anything happen. We’re not all teeth. There’s nothing you could do if we don’t want it to happen. It’s the same on your side for humans.”

Billy’s next exhalation seeped out of his mouth. Slow. “Are you taking your time? Circling a stronger prey?” He tapped the ash off his cigarette, and watched Steve’s irises flick to the movement. “Most people come to me for my looks, money, or power. Is it the same for you?”

“No.”

That might’ve caught Billy off guard, if he didn’t feel gently nailed in place by Steve’s eyes lifting to his own. It was Billy’s turn to look down—down at the fingers grazing Billy’s hand as Steve reached for the cigarette. Took it.

“You’re easy prey because you’re already dying. You smoke a pack of these a day. The rest of the criminal cityscape would celebrate your funeral. A wolf’s goal is to eat. Not bragging rights—well. For the smart ones. We go for what’s easy.”

Glass-blue eyes wandered Steve’s face as he took a long inhalation. “I’ve never been called ‘easy’ in my entire life.”

Steve shrugged and—politely—aimed his lips to the side. Billy wondered how much he’d mind if Steve’s smoke graced his skin. “What can I say? We hunt the same way lions, tigers, and bears to. We go for what’s attainable with minimum effort.”

“You’re lazy.”

That overarching fringe bobbed over his head. Of course Steve had taken the time to style his hair. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Billy took his cigarette back with a huff. “I’ll decide later how insulted I should be. Until then, you’re the one looking like easy pickings.”

“You haven’t thrown anyone out of your place lately.”

That took an extra minute for Billy to process. “You…huh.”

Steve’s head moved with his eyes rolling onto him. “You don’t really think people in this city leave any bar without a fight, do you? I’ve had plenty of dinners on your tab.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Steve’s mouth lifted slightly in a skeptical grimace. “What’s the catch?”

Billy took his time with the last drag and stepped on the filter on his way to minimize the distance between them. “Explain to me why some pervert bites me and I’m fighting a hard on for two weeks?”

A rigid second passed, and then Steve crumbled into laughter. He laughed like a kid. A really cute little shit.

As Steve recovered, he heaved, “I’ve never heard anyone complain about the bite boners.”

Billy followed him as he reclined against the alley wall. “How about, instead of avoiding what’s really at play here, you admit to wanting to bite me. You’re usually on top of the rats that enter my business. But not that night.”

Steve stood on his own feet, making Billy feel the one inch he had on him. “And what if I did? What if it wasn’t your smell that made me crave, but jealousy?”

His musician’s bravado flickered when Billy’s tongue traced the edge of his bottom lip. “How do I smell?”

“Like smoked peaches.”

Steve was proving an annoying skill at making Billy dumbfounded. “What?”

He giggled anew. “Are you the type to fuck without kissing?”

Billy absorbed that and returned, “You like to kiss after blowjobs, don’t you?”

Steve wagged his head, so his words drifted back and forth over Billy’s mouth. “Yeah? So what?”

Billy inhaled deeply to make a show of sighing like humoring Steve’s romantic ethics was tiring him out—

Steve’s hands cradled his head with care, the soft sound of Billy’s hair scrunching underneath his fingers filling his ears as Steve licked inside Billy’s mouth. The latter’s jaw went slack, letting Steve in and meeting his tongue to taste him right back. Apart from the smoke, Steve tasted mutely sweet. The way a clean mouth does; the way a man should taste. Billy had always thought the way a person tasted was a uniquely intimate thing. Like a special piece of DNA could only be read with the tongue.

Steve’s tongue retreated so he could fully kiss Billy’s lips. When the lazy, soft pecks seemed to be Steve’s only intent, Billy gripped his shirtfront, the only warning he got before Billy licked the seam of his lips, wanting more. Wanting what they started.

“Mhm…is everything…a power trip with you?” Steve mumbled, but his breath shuddered when Billy pressed his hard groin against Steve’s pelvis.

“Bite me and fuck me—”

The lights went out, because they were tucked far enough behind a garbage bin for the motion detectors to not see them. Steve’s attention moved between these details and he uttered, “Next to the trash?”

Billy growled, “Ughh,” and hauled Steve off the brick and into his off-day business. “I should’ve guessed you were high maintenance.”

But right inside the doors, Billy tapped in the access code to a private elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Top floor penthouse.”

Steve snorted. “You’re like my cockatoo bragging about the highest swing.”

“You have a bird?”

“Yes, I have a bird! A little asshole named, Orchid. He whistles to all of my songs.”

“You’re the strangest excuse for a vampire I’ve ever seen.”

“And you are easy. Thanks for showing me the key to your house.”

Billy looked at him and met a toothy smirk. “Pisces, huh?”

The elevator dinged and Billy was too deep to back out now. He couldn’t tell which of them was the hunter, but he was ready to share a hell of a meal.

[missfangirll]

Driving me crazy

Fandom: Guardian Rating: General Relationship: Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei, Da Qing/Ye Zun, Shen Wei & Ye Zun Tags: Fluff, Crack, Prompt: Learning to drive Words: 2585 Summary: Shen Wei learns to drive.

Read on AO3

@tehfanglyfish requested this ages ago, and I am truly sorry it took so long... It somehow refused to take the shape I wanted it to, and even now it is 70% crack. 😅 Ye Zun almost hijacked the whole thing and made it about him, so there is a lot of brotherly interaction 😅 Anyway, have some fluff/crack 😁😁

- - - - -

Of all the things that would bring down Shen Wei’s carefully crafted persona, it had to be alcohol, of course. Not even his own intake, but rather the fact that his boyfriend, his brother, and his boyfriend had had too much of it the night before and were now truly incapable of doing anything besides being whiny and mopey, slouching at their large breakfast table in shared misery.

Still, none of this would have been a problem, if not for Ye Zun’s new-found, somewhat misguided sense of responsibility. His brother had used the beginning of the new term to throw himself into some university courses – drama, of all things –, and had morphed into, rather late for Shen Wei’s taste, but who was he to complain, a model student with perfect attendance and spotless grades.

So now, on a late Friday morning, Zhao Yunlan had - in a bout of altruism and concern for his team which had absolutely nothing to do with his pounding headache - given the whole SID the day off, and abandoned him and Ye Zun at the table, leaving Shen Wei with the feeling of being the only adult in the house. Zhao Yunlan had gone back to bed without any coherent input, while Da Qing had refused to change into human form in the first place, stating that hangovers were best dealt with while having a smaller head.

Consequently, it had been only him and his slightly dishevelled brother left at the table, Ye Zun with his face in his hands, his hair in a messy ponytail, wrinkly shirt, ripped jeans, and with two different socks. Shen Wei found this a tiny bit endearing, but would rather bite off his own tongue than say it out loud.

Ye Zun groaned softly and squinted at him through his fingers. “We need to get going,” he mumbled, “I have classes in an hour and your office hours start soon, too.”

Shen Wei raised an eyebrow. With a portal, it would take them less than five minutes to get to their respective buildings, and he opened his mouth to remind his brother of that, when the other raised his head. “Did you forget that today is that ominous Spring Cleaning Day they have been talking about? ‘Open doors and open minds’ or some bullshit they called it. There won’t be an unoccupied room in the whole university, so as long as you and your--,” he visibly went through a whole lot of probably rather insulting terms, before he settled on “--lover don’t have any intimate knowledge about a deserted broom closet, we’ll have to drive.”

Shen Wei felt his ears turn red and stubbornly avoided the other’s smirk. He had indeed forgotten, and now it was way too late to take the bus and arrive in time.

Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. “We could portal somewhere close,” he tried, but Ye Zun shook his head. “It’s not a big deal, really,” he said. “My car is here, we don’t even have to take that ridiculous jeep. Just watch out for the gearshift, it tends to jam when it’s cold.”

Shen Wei stared at him, eyes wide in shock. “What do you mean, I need to watch out? Aren’t you driving?”

Ye Zun massaged the bridge of his nose, then pressed his fingers to his eyes. “I don’t think I can see clearly enough to get through traffic,” he said, “but you’ll be fine. I'll just sit there and tell you where to go.”

Shen Wei felt his breath quicken, not able to meet his brother’s gaze. Panicked, he went through a few hopefully believable excuses why he under no circumstances could drive right now, when he felt Ye Zun’s eyes on him. His brother had always been very perceptive, and even with a spectacular hangover noticed Shen Wei’s strange behaviour. Raising an eyebrow he stated, “You are stalling.” Shen Wei winced while his brother continued matter-of-factly, but with a very audible smirk in his voice, “You don’t want to drive my car and are trying to find excuses, and now I am very curious as to why that is.” 

Shen Wei winced and tried to deflect. “I don’t--,” he started, but his brother was not deterred. Sitting up straighter, he fixed Shen Wei with a scrutinizing stare that made him want to fidget. Avoiding his eyes was apparently the wrong thing to do, since his brother cackled and reached over to flick his forehead. Before Shen Wei could bristle indignantly, Ye Zun pointed out, “Gege, I know you better than anyone, and that face you’re making right now tells me that you can’t or won’t do something, but are too stubborn to say it and try to find polite excuses.” Grinning widely, he continued, “And I know for a fact that you like my car more than that absurd red monster, so there are not many reasons why you would refuse to drive me, since I know you have a driver’s license. I, umm, might have...” He broke off, clearing his throat, his stare intensifying. “Anyway, that leaves only one explanation. You can’t drive, for whatever reason.”

Shen Wei, who had been sinking down further into his chair during this reasoning, didn’t look up as he said weakly, “You should work for the SID, you’re a capable investigator.” 

“But,” his brother now sounded confused, “why do you have a driver’s license when you can’t drive?”

Shen Wei shifted uncomfortably. “When I first began teaching here, Dixing assumed it was a cover for being the Envoy and issued me some documents… I don’t think that was very legal to begin with.” He gave his brother a pained grimace. ”They probably didn’t even know what most of them were for, and I didn’t tell them.” Inhaling deeply, he finished his explanation. “That is why I do have a license, but I have never driven a car in my life. I’m afraid you will need to take care of that if we want to get to work in time.”

- - - - -

After Ye Zun had overcome his laughing fit, he agreed to drive them himself, despite the state he was in. It took them a while to get to the university, Ye Zun cursing and muttering under his breath, but they managed in time. When they parted in the parking lot, Shen Wei noticed a dangerous sparkle in his brother’s eyes as he regarded him for a second. It made him shiver slightly, but he didn’t comment, resolutely turning towards his office building.

He didn’t wait for Ye Zun in the late afternoon, quite familiar with the other’s schedule he knew that he had a rehearsal to attend and wouldn’t be home until dinner. Thus, he quietly locked his office door and portalled home, after making sure nobody saw him. 

At home, he didn’t have time to think about the day’s unfortunate events, since Da Qing loudly requested tuna for dinner, while Zhao Yunlan equally loudly demanded attention. Sighing inwardly, he patted both of them on the head on his way to the kitchen, once more feeling like a babysitter for a group of unruly toddlers. The missing toddler turned up an hour later, just when the rice cooker made a final noise. Shen Wei purposefully filled all four bowls with vegetables, ignoring the various protests, and ushered his flock to the table. When all of them were seated, immersed in their dinner, he allowed himself to relax a little. Having all of them here, feeding them, taking care of them, still came as a surprise on some days, and he was infinitely grateful for it every day. 

He felt slightly less grateful, though, when Ye Zun pushed his bowl aside and fixed him with a pointed look, a wide smirk on his face. 

“Gege,” he began and, sensing that the situation would soon turn interesting, the other two slowly lowered their bowls as well, looking expectantly between Shen Wei and his brother.

“Yes,” the former replied, feeling uneasy under the other’s gaze.

“Gege,” Ye Zun repeated, drawing out the syllables, “I thought about your problem.”

Shen Wei winced, but stayed silent. Zhao Yunlan perked up. “Problem?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Biting his lip, Shen Wei tried to deny everything, when Da Qing piped up, “The fact that he can’t drive a car, despite having a license, I suppose.”

Shen Wei’s head whipped around. “How….?” he began, but Da Qing just shrugged. Of course Ye Zun had told him. 

Zhao Yunlan cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know, that driver’s license is fake, I assume they gave it to you as a cover. And you’re so lost when it comes to any kind of technology, cars are surely not the one thing you managed.” 

Shen Wei kept staring, not able to reply. His insensitive boyfriend chuckled. “I’m a police officer, you moron, what did you think? That thing is such a bad fake, I’m surprised Ye Zun could use it all this time without getting busted.” Ye Zun choked on his tea. Now both brothers stared incredulously at Zhao Yunlan, who just snorted and took a sip of his own tea. “I figured you’d tell me one day, or maybe ask to drive the jeep so I could show you, but you never did, and I never…” He trailed off, then inhaled deeply. “Well, anyway, would you want to learn?”

Shen Wei was still staring at him, unseeing. 

“Would you want to learn?” Kunlun smiles at him, all teeth and sunshine. “You would want to teach me how to ride a horse?”, he asks, mirth in his voice. “That poor beast.” He can’t look away from that smile. “I think..,” he starts and has to clear his throat, “I think you’d be good at it.”

- - - - -

Shen Wei managed to enforce two conditions before he agreed to Zhao Yunlan’s offer: Only one person would teach him, and he wouldn’t drive the jeep. Which only left Ye Zun’s car, since he also vehemently refused to learn how to drive Zhao Yunlan’s beloved bike.

I haven’t thought this through, he thought, as he adjusted the driver’s seat and fiddled with the mirror. Ye Zun had adapted to his new surroundings the same way he did everything: by inhaling it, just not as literal as he used to. He always bought the newest gadgets, had the trendiest clothes and used all the apps Shen Wei couldn’t even guess the use of. The only exception to that lifestyle was his car. Shen Wei wasn’t sure how he had gotten it or why, but that he was very fond of it, and endured Zhao Yunlan’s regular teasing with the grandeur of a wounded martyr. The car was tiny, even Shen Wei understood that, didn’t have a lot of extras, and most curiously, had a foreign flag painted on the roof. Da Qing didn’t have any opinions about cars, he was only interested in the compartments that could potentially hold snacks, and Shen Wei didn’t care as long as it got him to work and back safely.

But now that he sat behind the steering wheel, he couldn’t help but think that using the jeep might have been a better idea. It was higher off the ground, he mused, and also provided a lot of help to the driver, as Zhao Yunlan had shown him more than once. In Ye Zun’s tiny vehicle he suddenly felt very vulnerable.

Taking a deep breath, he shook himself out of his spiraling thoughts. This was, after all, something that could be learned, and he had yet to find something he wasn’t able to master. Determined, he reached for the key, when Zhao Yunlan next to him blurted, “Stop!” Startled, he let his hand sink, looking warily at the other. Zhao Yunlan fixated him. “Where are your feet?”

“Err,” Shen Wei replied wisely, resisting the impulse to look down. “At the end of my legs, I suppose?”

Zhao Yunlan gave him an unimpressed glare. “Very funny. When driving a car with gearshift, you have to put your left foot on the clutch.” Seeing the other’s forlorn look, he amended. “The pedal on the left. Left is clutch, middle is brake, right is gas.” Shen Wei felt even more confused. “How am I supposed to step on three pedals with two feet?” His boyfriend laughed at him. “You’re not. Don’t think of using brake and gas at the same time, that’ll kill the engine. You need to keep your left foot on the left pedal, then alternate the right between the two. Try it,” he nodded encouragingly. With a deep breath, Shen Wei stepped firmly on the left pedal while turning the key. The engine started and he smiled somewhat relieved. “Alright,” Zhao Yunlan commanded, “now slowly let the clutch go and step on the gas.” Shen Wei did, and with an offended howl, the engine died. He looked uncertainly at the other. “Yeah, that can happen,” Zhao Yunlan sounded unperturbed. “Try again.”

It took a few tries, but in the end Shen Wei managed to move the car forward a bit. (Only to get excited and accelerate too much, forcing Zhao Yunlan to pull the handbrake, but that didn’t dampen his spirits much.) With a slight grin, he turned. “Alright, what is next?”

Zhao Yunlan gave him a look. “Well, we could keep practising here in the parking lot,” he said slowly, “or we could try the road. There's not that much traffic at this hour,” he added, “you should be fine.”

“It’s a calm horse, you should be fine.” “When I fall off, will you take care of me, Hei Pao Shi?” That grin again, Shen Wei thinks. He has no defenses against that grin. He just nods.

In the end, the road really wasn’t that crowded. Which made it easier for the police unit to notice a tiny foreign car whose driver was obviously drunk, oscillating in the lane, speeding up at random intervals. It took all of Zhao Yunlan’s silken persuasion skill, his SID badge and Shen Wei looking utterly helpless behind his glasses to convince the two officers to let them go, but when they had unsteadily turned a corner and Shen Wei had once more throttled the poor engine, Zhao Yunlan couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. He leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, clutching his middle as he dissolved in giggles. Shen Wei pouted for a bit, but then joined in. 

After he had found his breathing again, Zhao Yunlan wheezed, “I should have told them what happens when you drink.” Wiping his eyes he added, a fond note to the teasing tone, “You are such a lightweight.”

Shen Wei smiled back. “I should have told them that all this started because you drank too much. That would have confused them even more, I think.”

Zhao Yunlan snorted, then added, reaching over to put his hand over Shen Wei’s, “Do you remember how you tried to teach me how to ride a horse?” Shen Wei made a soft noise, he was very fond of that particular memory. “I fell off, and really hoped that I would fall into a hole in the ground, but then you picked me up and said you’d take care of me…” He trailed off and regarded the other with a warm smile, which Shen Wei returned. “I promised, did I not?”  “You did, and you have,” Zhao Yunlan agreed, leaning in for a kiss.

[imagineaworlds]

Rules & Roses

“are you following me?”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex. Pretty sure that’s it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Non-binary!Reader x Emily Prentiss (poly triad)

Word Count: 2073

Paranoia was starting to kick in. After days of running that same path without seeing another trace of that woman who reminded me of Lauren, I was genuinely starting to worry about just how fucking insane I was. I mean, think about it this way: I dedicated six years of my life to loving Lauren Reynolds so passionately that nothing else in the world mattered. As long as I had her, I was content. Then, one day, without warning, she was gone, and I was left to pick up the pieces. After those six years loving someone to the point that my life became theirs, it was hard to move on. Truthfully, I don’t think I ever did. There I was, thirteen years later, and my whole life was still about Lauren. For all I knew, she disappeared of her own free will. She woke up on that Wednesday morning, decided that she had enough of me, so she made it seem like she was going to the market, but she was really getting as far away from me as possible. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I mean, I thought she loved me… but Lauren liked to keep moving, and she didn’t like to get close with anyone— hence why I hardly knew anything about her— so it was possible that she just got bored of me. If that were the case, then I was definitely insane for still being head over heels in love with her.

Not knowing what happened with her, or with us, made it impossible for me to gauge if it was okay for me to actually still be strung on her or not. The good news was, however, that I could run it out every morning at the park. Since it was slowly getting colder, the tourists were spending more of their time in the city where there was artificial heating. As for the usual faces I saw on the path, they were still there. The older couples that liked to walk the path on the warm, sunny days so that they could stare at all of the different flowers in the huge garden all day were already long gone, probably cooped up in their homes to stay warm with each other. I envied that life. It was the life I wanted with— Stop. The point of running was to just focus on the burn in my lungs and legs. Playing my music as loud as I could in my ear was also to help deter any wandering thoughts. If anything, I could just focus on the lyrics and pretend that I was elsewhere in the world with her— No.

Thirteen fucking years and I still couldn’t shake Lauren Reynolds.

As I reached the top of the U-turn, I decided to sit down on the bench there for once. Usually, it was taken up by one of the older couples or a lazy tourist; but, since they were all gone— and no one else was going to dare to sit on the cold metal— I got to stretch out for a moment as I caught my breath and tried to end this tug-of-war in my mind. People continued to pass. As they made their way around the U-turn, they each sent me a glance, all for different reasons. Some were confused, others were curious, and others had just accidentally looked over at me. There was confusion because it was way too cold to just be sitting on a metal bench in the park, and curiosity because they wanted to make sure I was alright. With every glance that came, however, I tried to see if I could spot that woman who looked like Lauren. I really wanted to see her again. Not because I wanted to talk to her or something, but because I just needed that reassurance that it wasn’t her. I needed to move on. Despite the fact that I hadn’t seen her again since that first glance, I was holding out hope that at some point I would get to prove to myself that I wasn’t cray.

“How are you not freezing?” his muffled voice passed through the music playing in my headphones just enough to catch my attention.

I looked up at him. It was the man from the other day, the one who bumped into me— the six foot Nordic God that I had ignored. I gulped. “I’m used to it.”

“Ah. So, you can say more than ‘sorry’.” He laughed. My eyes raked down his figure, taking in every detail of him. Since it was so cold out, his hair wasn’t all sweaty and sticking to his forehead this time around. His brown eyes were just as dark and endless this time as they were the first time, though, and I felt myself getting lost for a second before I caught myself on the detail of how his nose flared to stop himself from smiling when he saw me staring. “I’m Aaron,” he said when he realized that I didn’t know how to respond.

I smiled up at him. “Nice to meet you.”

“What’s your name?”

I stayed silent, my headphones still in my ears. I thought that it was common knowledge that you weren’t supposed to bother someone when they had headphones in. Then again, Aaron looked older, so it was possible that it was a generation rule, not a societal one. I stood from the cold bench to show that I wasn’t going to answer him. His eyes followed mine. As I jumped on my toes to try and warm myself up, my gaze continued to search his body. He was wearing a tight grey Under Armor shirt that showed off his loose abs that he was working on, and his biceps… Again, a six foot Nordic God. As for his pants, he was wearing knee-length black sports shorts over black tights to keep his legs warm. My eyes snapped back up to meet his face when I heard him chuckle.

“You’re shy,” he said to me.

“Not really.”

“So, then, what’s your name?”

This guy wasn’t going to give up— but, again, Americans were normally people that kept to themselves. If they didn’t, it was a huge red flag. The fact that this guy bumped into me the other day, and now he was trying to use that brief interaction as an excuse to talk to me again was unnerving. Stranger danger, right? That was an American concept, for the most part, but I supposed it was a valid thing to be concerned about. At this point, I had learned that they were onto something with their “stranger danger” concept. Despite the fact that this man was very attractive, looks could be deceiving. I wasn’t going to give him my name or any other attention, really. The less the better. I shouldn’t have stopped on that bench. I shouldn’t have stopped on the path the other day when he bumped into me, and I shouldn’t have stopped on the bench this time. I needed to learn to just keep moving. Just because I had all the time in the world to do what I want in the mornings now, that didn’t mean I should lolligag.

“I should go,” I said.

This time, he didn’t stop me with any kind of protest or hold on my hips. I wasn’t sure why, but that one detail from that morning stuck out the most— well, besides the fact that I thought I saw Lauren. He had knocked into me because of my sudden halt, and in order to save me from falling flat on my face, he caught my hips and held me until he was sure that I was okay. Even then, I had to pull from his touch. With all of the caution I had been proceeding with, it was irking me that I couldn’t forget how he held me. Maybe it was just the fact that he was attractive. I was easily blinded by love and sexuality— use Lauren Reynolds as the prime example— so, I couldn’t trust even myself when it came to attractive strangers like the six foot Nordic God who was following me around.

When I arrived at my car after my run, I sat down in the driver’s seat, the door still open so that I could knock the dirt off my running shoes and change into something more comfortable. As the sun was coming up for the rest of the morning, it started to warm up, but only slightly, I missed being warm all the time. Even with the constant traveling Lauren and I did, we managed to catch everywhere when it was warm. We never ran into snow unless it was on purpose. Like, this one time, Lauren took me to Poland so that we could stay in a cabin where the snow could trap us in, giving us all the time in the world to just be together and not be interrupted by anything. I hated the snow without her. I hated the cold without her. She used to keep me warm, no matter what. Now, I had no one to keep me warm, which made the cold— especially the D.C. cold— unbearable.

“I didn’t mean to scare you off earlier,” he said.

I rolled my eyes before looking up at him. “Are you following me? Do I need to call the cops?”

He laughed. “No. I just wanted to apologize. I’ll leave you alone—”

“Good. ‘Cause I will call the police—” My threat fell short when he dug into his pocket, pulling out a black wallet, then flipped it open so that I could see the inside. My jaw dropped. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I scanned every line of the I.D. laminated next to the bright gold FBI badge. “So, your name really is Aaron.” That was a relief, I supposed.

He laughed again. “Yeah.” He pocketed his badge. “I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just on a run the other day with my friend, and we were racing, so I was trying to keep up after she passed you; but I wasn’t looking where I was going, so I ran into you.”

“Did she win?”

“What?”

“Your friend. Did she win your race because of me?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from widening his smile. “Yeah, she did. She would have won anyways. She’s fast.”

“You’ll have to challenge her to a rematch, that way I can bump into her next time so that you can win.”

I shivered suddenly. I tried to pass it off like I was cold, but, in reality, it was because I had just realized that I was flirting with him, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a stranger. It was just that he pulled out that badge, and it suddenly gave me a sense of security with him— even though it could have been a fake badge, or the fact that he was still a stranger with a badge. I shouldn’t have been warming up to him as quickly as I was. I knew it was wrong. I knew that it was dangerous. Yes, neither of us could stop smiling. After not smiling for so long, I thought I forgot how to laugh. Then he came along, and it seemed easy to smile and laugh. It was natural. Unlike the other day, this wasn’t forced or awkward. We were just two people who happened to keep running into each other on the path, and because of that, we felt the need to create polite conversation. Still, it was wrong— It didn’t have to be wrong. No. It was. A badge didn’t mean he wasn’t still a stranger to me.

Aaron seemed to notice the truth behind my shiver, though, so he backed down. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then.”

“Yeah.”

 “Okay…” He turned on his heels to make his way to his car.

“Y/N,” I said urgently.

He stopped. “What?” he asked while turning back around.

I swallowed hard. “My name’s Y/N. I figure, if you’re in the FBI, you’d find out sooner than later.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“It’s okay.”

Aaron bit his lip nervously. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Aaron. See you tomorrow.”

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

criminal minds family: @peggy1999​ @gorgeousdarkangel​ @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​ @brithedemonspawn​ @absolutemarveltrash​ @bshelley322​

[mci-writing]

Attachment (Villain!Midoriya Izuku x Reader)

A/n:This fic was originally meant to be posted July 20th for @birds-have-teeth‘s Izumonth Server Collab! I enjoyed writing for this event and I hope you all enjoy this fic!

Warnings: Somewhat mature themes; reader is a sex worker; gun use; non-consensual touching of naked skin, but not quite groping; Slightly ooc Midoriya Izuku; Reader implied to not be the greatest at defending themselves

There’s a certain loneliness that comes into your mind when you’ve been put down all your life. It’s a form of depression everyone faces once in a while, one that hits some a little harder and hits others a bit less. Then there’s always a trigger and it hits some so low it’s nearly impossible for them to pick themselves back up. 

Some have no idea where their sudden upset came from, settling for letting the slump pass over instead of getting to the root and removing that unneeded variable. Others know exactly what set off the feeling and rather hide it from themselves, wearing a facade over their emotions until they finally can’t handle all the turmoil. That usually leads to… unruly situations and one to a few lives get taken in the process. 

Midoriya has observed enough to know that this… weak point can be manipulated into getting people tricked up in numerous webs for his own self gain. What point in time varies on the person and the situation, but people usually get pretty desperate once all the pieces finally hit just a little too deep for them to shake off the depressive state of unwantedness. He knows all too well himself what paths unwarranted thoughts lead you down when you’re trapped in desperation.

“Here’s the deal then… I help you if you help me,” However, as time passes and you’ve watched numerous people fall for the same trick from a couple of choice words, the small tug of remorse at the back of your mind eases into a silent plea of muddled feelings. Any struggle is resolved with a simple “for business” before he fast talks his way through another bungled, one-sided proposition that ends up with a once innocent civilian put behind bars for the blood they never had on their hands. Twisting fate in his scarred hands for the sake of his survival, “This whole situation will disappear if you just assist me in this one situation. You even get a cut”

There were a few successful missions here and there, and he always made sure to make his end of the deal rather quickly before anything could get too overly complicated. People would go missing and bank accounts would be filled with stolen money; Police turn their heads with a simple threat or bribe. Then the cycle repeats again and another kid that needs therapy gets sent down a dangerous path. If it was just a little over his jurisdiction, another body is left in the gutter of some busted neighborhood with little trace as to just what happened. 

And those that couldn’t wallow in the filth of their crimes usually handled their own punishment.

He learns to lay low, move places, but never forget names or faces. The process can be emotionally tolling on him at times. Certain situations tend to remind him of his times growing up, those hopeless situations that crawl from the depths of your mind and keep you up on late nights. He pushes them away and continues with his day, keeping an eye out for his next victims before he hits the road again. 

He passes numerous people on his way up to his apartment, his body swerving and curling in various ways to avoid the rambunctious space up the stairs and through the halls. He’s lucky to only bump into one person when he happens to glance away a moment. They’re also not paying much attention, squeaking out in surprise from the sudden collision and their hoodie falling in the aftermath. 

They fall back a bit, catching themself with their back-foot before they can fully trip up while Midoriya manages to hold himself from the impact. He’s forced to take in their features, finding himself gazing upon them a little longer than he intends before tearing his own emerald eyes away from their form before he can embarrass and draw extra attention to himself. It doesn’t help that their seemingly tantalizing, (e/c) eyes curiously stare up at him. His body warms in a way that reminds him of his prepubescent awkwardness and his cheeks light up a rare shade of red he’s normally able to keep composed.

He clears his throat before his feet begin moving again to quickly remove himself from the situation before he can open his mouth. He’s only able to have enough decency to give a half-assed apology in the midst of retreating to his home. His heart beats a little faster and takes awhile to calm.

~~~

He keeps notes on the surrounding tenants, documenting every inconvenience that they face and each unfortunate event that seems to surround their bubbles while he’s there. He tosses darts at possible targets daily as he keeps himself holed up in his small apartment. 

It’s a little more than surprising when you get a set of darts as a housewarming gift to accompany the usual “Yoroshiku onegai shimasu”, especially an expensive, name brand set of this caliber, but there are times where you get lucky, I guess? Then again, it came from the person he practically bulldozed his first day of being here and they insisted the incident was their fault, buying them as a “makeup gift” or something? The gift was accompanied with the information of their name as well. He wasn’t opposed and accepted them with open arms (of course, sending the darts in to his associates to check before he properly used them) before coming to the quick decision to distance himself just a little more than he usually does (because there’s something up with the way he finds himself just a little more on the warm side when he talks to them).

His room smells like katsudon from some random takeout restaurant from down the street that he picks up on his way home from those times he goes in and comes home late. He carries a duffel bag to and from his office, filling them with a spare set and replacing them on days things get messier than planned. There are days he finds bloody weapons he forgot to get rid of and days where his neighbors become curious of his occupation. Both are brushed off in the same manor, taken care of and disposed of respectively. 

He maps out the surrounding area for his next aim. He notes the various factors in notes, from the Pro heroes in this specific area to important landmarks he’d like to hit up for priceless souvenirs. He only takes a break to check and manage his time “responsibly”, but only the smell from his leftover boxes really distracts him by reminding him that he needs to probably get some food soon. It becomes a last priority each time he manages to push it away, but his body can only handle the denial for so long before he finally forces himself from his seat.

Midoriya steps out of his apartment once he gets everything he needs, pausing at the sight of his neighbor standing in front of their ajar door. He can only really see past it a bit, catching sight of maybe a chair and a stand? Their fingers are rummaging through a small pouch, their eyebrows furrowed and lips upturned in a pout as they search through it. He watches for a moment before releasing a sigh, walking up to them and clearing his throat to garner their attention.

“Are you looking for something?” He speaks up, his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes catch the way their face lights up a shade or the nervous downturn their (e/c) eyes make. He takes note of the way their hold tightens around the pouch, the way they begin to sweat under his gaze before their eyes shyly glance back up at him.

“No. Not at all” They lie through their teeth, glancing down at their small bag one last time before they close it with a huff. They open their apartment door, sending him a quick smile, “Thanks for asking, though. I-I’ll see you around”

He stops himself from asking further, quickly nodding his own head and heading out the door of the building. He brushes the encounter off and instead focuses on getting himself a nice bowl of beef katsudon from down the street.

The trip doesn’t take him very long as he walks back in his apartment building with three plates stacked in a bag and a stick of pocky between his teeth. He stares ahead rather blankly as he mentally runs over the crap he’d recently gathered in passing. Some guy a few buildings down needs help with rent payment, a dad struggling over custody of his kid, and a washed up businessman needs enough money to get himself off the ground again. He grins to himself as his plans of another successful caper begin to formulate, so lost in his head he almost passes his door.

He pulls his keycard from his pocket, taking the time to swallow the cookie between his teeth before he gets the door opened. He pauses when he hears the door across the hall slam shut, his back straightening in panic and his body contorting to catch what happened. His eyes narrow at the hefty guy beside his neighbor’s door, rolling his eyes as the guy continues to knock at the door.

“Come on, (Y/n). You've gotta let me in. I’ve changed-” Midoriya sighs as he closes his door, his grip on his bag tightening as he fully turns around and walks up to him. He pulls on an old smile he only pulls in situations that are a little more sensitive and he prays it doesn’t seem disingenuous when he steps up to the door.

The guy is just a foot over Midoriya, bulkier and forcefully intimidating. His intimidation is so fake that Midoriya has to hold himself back from laughing. He settles for clearing his throat to garner the guy’s attention, holding the bag up and innocently tilting his head.

“Hey, is, uh, is (Y-Y/n) here? We sort of planned a l-lunch date for today…” He inwardly cringes at his own words, still managing to hold up the act. The idea of even doing something remotely that romantic with anyone was enough to get his cheeks flushing enough and his, as others say, green, doe eyes was enough to help pull off the innocent look for him.

 “You don’t seem like much..” The dude looks him over, lip upturned in judging disgust. Midoriya has to hold back a roll of his eyes, his free hand making it to his back pocket and setting itself inside as he waits for the guy to finish sizing him up. The smirk that comes to that guy’s face seems to piss Midoriya off just a little more, his voice now louder and taunting, “You really couldn’t do any better, (Y/n)?!”

“LISTEN HERE, YOU PIECE OF SHI- Midoriya? H-Hey!” The sudden yank of the door causes Midoriya to jump just a little more than he thought it would. Hearing their tone of voice and the sudden rise in volume was a little more than surprising to him, especially considering how quiet and to themselves they tended to be when he was around.

“I said you could call me Izuku, i-if you wanted. We’ve already been through so much as is, (Y/n),” He watches their (e/c) eyes dart between the bag in his hand, him, and the other guy standing next to him. They seemingly calm down a bit, a bit of a nervous smiling coming to their face at the sight of Izuku being there. He lifts the bag a little more, stepping to be more in their peripheral vision and reassuring them of the situation, “I hope you don’t mind katsudon…”

“Come on then, Izuku” They open the door a little wider with a kind smile, turning away from them before walking inside. Midoriya takes a moment before following behind, grinning as he closes the door in the guy’s face.

He doesn’t know what to expect when he walks inside, but the barren apartment was a bit of a surprise. It shouldn’t have been. He’s seen people with gaping holes in their walls and others with cow sized rodents running around. This wasn’t anything new at all, especially in such a cheap apartment complex, but it didn’t connect with the housewarming/apology gift he received from them the first week he moved in. There’s a flyer on a small table conveniently placed near the front door. Green eyes scan over the paper covered in various shades of lustful blues and accentuated pinks, swiping the leaflet with finesse and walking just a little further inside after removing his shoes. 

He pushes it to the back of his mind and instead focuses on sharing the katsudon he ordered. It was more than likely a little more lukewarm than either of them would have liked, but that isn't enough to wane his hunger as he pulls the take out bowls out of the bag. He passes (Y/n) some chopsticks, taking his own between his fingers and flipping the top off of his.

The two eat in silence. One believes it to be calming, allowing him to get a look around the room and properly inspect the other without seeming out of place, while the other finds it rather awkward as they search their mind for how to break it. When (y/n) finally does find the right words, they speak up almost meekly. It’s a great contrast from their fussing earlier, yet it was what Midoriya was used to hearing from them, “Sorry that you got involved with all… that”

That was one way to describe that encounter…

“It’s fine. We all deal with crazy people from time to time”

“Yeah…”

~~~

That wouldn’t be the last time Midoriya would find himself stepping into a similar situation for his neighbor across the hall. It seemed every week there was some dick outside waiting on them, trailing them home, or practically trying to force their way into their apartment. It seemed almost non-stop and was very distracting from his job. He had plans he needed to work out and pawns to create to go in his stead, but instead he was playing hero for his resident next door. He could make it easier on himself and ignore the pricks outside, let them have at them however they were looking to. Turn a blindeye to it all and pretend he has no idea when they inevitably go missing.

However, the flyer on his wall above his laptop reminds him that he just can’t do that. He has to watch over them for a reason and to just let that go out of sheer annoyance won’t feign him much luck when he finally sends his next team out to the field. If he has to feed them every night, have his goons keep watch of them on their way to work at the darkest hours of the night as well as their way home at the very crack of dawn, and leave them small gifts for the better fit of their survival then he’ll do just that to ensure that this deal doesn’t just slip away from his fingers. A sex worker is more than essential to the very job spending time with (Y/n) was distracting him from, especially if they knew their way around the underground of this neighborhood. 

They were good at their job, very good at their job. He’s visited once or twice, only really making his presence known as of late (how many times he has gone to see them prior to that is really only his concern and a personal choice on his part) so they’d talk more openly about it with him and stop dancing around their profession (pun intended). They had a proficiency to their movements that he’s rarely seen in such low par establishments which, added with their fluidity and attractiveness, made it pretty obvious why so many patrons try to find their way to (Y/n)’s apartment in an attempt to gain just a little more than a bit of lewd teasing.

His mind races with the various places and positions he can place them in for this to work, reminding him just how important it is for him to properly socialize with the tenant across the hall. Getting attached wouldn’t be much of a problem. It’s never been much of a problem to him before and it's not like he had much of a reason to keep up such a facade of caring after. Whatever happened to them after wasn’t much of his concern, even if taking them on for more missions later would make a couple a little easier-

That was the original objective, anyway. There’s no room for truly caring for someone when you’re working underground, no room for getting beside yourself and growing any bonds deeper than respected co-workers. Midoriya’s been doing this job for years, first starting out as an intelligence kid for one of the yakuza groups in his neighborhood. He’s seen what kind of hurt it can lead to by keeping people close and how climbing up the ladder of power adds to the heartbreaks caused. 

Midoriya feels himself sigh as he shakes himself from thinking on the subject any longer, going back to his map of the High Cape, an expensive bar upstreet commonly used as a venue for support item bidding. One support item in particular had his and everyone else in the industry’s attention. He knew a couple of villains that would bid ten times the amount of money the device would actually go for and he could definitely use the money for his future projects. With the various vents and ducts in the building (mainly for quirk occurrences rather than heating and cooling the building), he’d need someone with a quirk or some similar ability that would allow them to easily slip by. His eyes move up his table, landing directly on the perfect person: A tenant down the hall, practically a teenager living on her own. She’s small enough for it and she could definitely use a cut of the cash they’d get-

“Hey, Izuku? I’m using your shower again” Midoriya jumps in his seat at the sudden opening of his door, his hands scurrying to put everything out of view. He turns around just as the door closes behind his intruder, towel wrapped around their body and the sparkly new loofa he bought them the other day held tightly in their hand. He’s seen this sight so many times the past month and it still manages to make his cheek tinge a hint of red at the idea of a bare body being there (it doesn’t help he has a very good idea of just what lays under there from the various performances of theirs he’s attended). Times like this make him feel more like their overprotective sugar daddy than an employer trying to get them in a job.

“You sure you don’t want me to pay your water bill? I don’t mind” He reminds as he watches them make their way to his bathroom. His swivel chair moves with his body as he stretches, the satisfying cracks his bones makes causing him to hum out in misplaced pleasure. He doesn’t expect too much of an answer back once the shower water comes on, turning his chair back to his desk and grabbing his planning journal, “I’m pretty close to just doing it against your will!”

He opens it up, reading over it’s contents. He adds a few more spare details as he thinks the plan over, sighing once more as he thinks over his current lab rats. He’s already planted the seeds for a few needed pawns, catching sight of their responses to his anonymous proposal and enjoying the way many of them were quick to send their responses to their designated areas. It makes him chuckle each time he sees those so ready to change their situation “for the better”. Those same people who jump at the deal without hesitation tend to be the ones to fully follow the plan through, do everything they're supposed to and deliver what he needs to his palm, yet they also do the irrational once the deeds they’ve committed really sinks in.

“You’re always writing in that thing when I come over” He hears their wet footsteps on the tiled floor before he realizes the water’s cut off.

“Don’t sit on the bean bag chair until you fully dry off” His jade orbs slowly look up at (Y/n), a knowing look on his face when he looks up to find them loosely dressed in one of his old t-shirts and, hopefully, a pair of underwear. He finds himself frowning seeing the fabric stick to their wet body the way it did, accentuating parts of them that he wished other people didn’t see. He sets his notebook down and trades it’s position for his phone (purposefully bugged in a way to keep out peepers), “Have you eaten today?”

The shrug he receives reminds him that he shouldn’t have bothered asking before he orders them something through one of his subordinates. His eyes gaze over their body again, this time lingering just a little longer. He turns away again, ignoring the way his cheeks warm. 

Having them laid out on his bean bag chair, legs spread enough for him to get enough of a view to confirm that they were indeed wearing underwear added another rosy shade. It reminds him why he’s approaching them in such a protective way and why he has to make sure he gets close enough for them to trust him with their life.

“Do you trust me?” It’s a simple question. It should’ve been a straightforward response from here on out. He discretely reaches under his desk as they hesitate, keeping the steel device out of their line of sight as he stands to his feet. 

(Y/n) nervously grins as Midoriya slowly approaches and there’s this look in his eyes that they’ve never seen from him. They stand to their feet themselves in a wary manner, glancing around for any indication that this was just a prank that they’d laugh off in a few minutes, “Of course I trust you… You’ve already done so much for me, it’d be kinda crazy for me not to-”

“But with your life?” Their heart stops when he pulls the gun out and aims it their way, his index finger close to the trigger and ready to pull it so easily, “Are you willing to dedicate yourself to my case if your survival depended on it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” He shoots once, the bullet just barely missing them and perfectly hitting the center of his dart board on the wall behind them. A sign that that’s not what he wants to hear, “Izuku-”

“Are you going to listen to whatever I say when the time calls for it?” The smirk on his face holds nothing more than amusement as he stares them down, patiently awaiting their answer. His head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing slightly as he speaks again, “We both know I’m the only thing keeping you alive and well… I’m really not asking for much and it really benefits you in the long run”

Another hesitant, painfully awkward silence follows that statement as (Y/n) thinks over their options at the moment. They could either defy his request and die right here in his apartment or they could accept his request and do whatever he says to keep yourself alive and, most probably, be taken care of the way he has been taking care of them. It doesn’t take rocket science to decide which was better at the very moment, “I trust you, Izuku...”

“Call me Deku when you’re working” He takes a step forward, the gun still threateningly being held. He flips it in his hold before getting it in a comfortable position again, enjoying watching the person before him squirm under scrutiny at the possibility of a bullet shooting through them. The whole scene gave him excited goosebumps, his coy smile still on his face as he watches them reveal their nervous ticks before him. All of this because they really thought he’d shoot, “Take my shirt off”

He watches as it comes off, the sight of their bareness almost enough for him to put the gun down and properly take it in. He releases a breath through his nose, stepping forward enough for him to reach out and press his fingertips into their skin. He pulls (Y/n) closer, the gun pressing into their side as he enjoys the feeling of having them flushed to his chest.

“I could kill you so easily and no one would know…” He buries his nose in their neck, the cold metal pressing a little harder into their skin as his hold on them tightens. Deku feels the tremble in their breathing and it almost makes him chuckle as he’s quick to reassure, “A shot here would cause quite a bit of damage, but not an immediate kill-” He digs the barrel more into their skin, almost enough to leave an indent, before he lifts it to their forehead with a degrading laugh, “Here would definitely kill you immediately”

His hand eases down their side, relishing in the soft feeling of their skin and giving weightless squeezes. He stops just above their hip, fingertips brushing over the waistband of their underwear (which he ensures to pull back enough to startle them, but not really harm them), before his fingers slowly ease up with feather-like touches. He pulls back a bit and lifts the gun to their chin to have their (e/c) eyes meet his. The look they gave him seemed vacant, yet submissive in a way he wasn’t used to seeing from them. It causes a small ping in his heart and a soft shade to come to his face once he realizes just how close he was to the very naked (Y/n) in the middle of his apartment. 

“Stuff like this would leave you vulnerable during an assignment, y’know? I won’t always be there to protect you from getting taken advantage of…” He’s quick to back away, lifting their hand and setting the gun there. He closes their hand around the trigger, circling around and leading them to hold the gun up properly, “So I might as well teach you how to use it, right? A thank you gift”

He ignores the warm feeling in his chest at having them pressed against his body again (this time with the added bonus of him being more self aware) and continues with his instructing, pulling away to let them try at shooting at the target just above his desk. He throws advice towards them here and there as he grounds himself against, thinking over just how he was going to get through the rest of this without his feelings developing beyond this point.

He reminds himself that he was just trying to warn himself of this very things, his hands reaching over carefully and helping them aim just a little better. It allows him to get a feel for how cold they are, their goosebumps riled up against the skin of his palm enough indication. He tugs his jacket off before he carefully drapes it over their shoulders, lifting the wet shirt from before off the ground, “Go ahead and get comfortable again while I take care of this. The food’s right down the road”

“Hey, Izuku? I meant what I said about trusting you, even if it costs me my life in the long run…” He originally took their nod a bit ago as an okay sign of where they’d just left off and it would’ve been enough confirmation for him to retreat with the wet clothing in his hand. However, he stops once he hears them speak up for the first time since he forcefully interrogated their loyalty to him and their words are enough for his heart to pound in his chest a different way than the original adrenaline he’s used to feeling when having someone swear their allegiance to him, “I’ll do what I’ve got to if it means helping you after everything you’ve helped me with this past month”

Typically, Deku doesn’t find himself too concerned with those he signs contracts with. The process is cut and dry: He helps them and they help back. How they go about their lives after has nothing to do with him as long as they’re not caught snitching. He’s seen various different responses and scenarios play out with these random civilians, situations he’s learned to let happen as they are because they’re out of his jurisdiction. He knows he could probably save a few lives if he wanted with the power he has baking behind him and maybe he could save certain people from prison, even if they put themselves there.

None have managed to make him tear up the way he currently did. He realizes just how attached he’s gotten to (Y/n) in a little over a month (which is really a big jump when compared to the literal months he’s spent with others that were nothing more than irritating) and it’s so hard for him to just accept that they’ve taken the job without much hesitation or question. He knows what that can mentally do to a person, he’s seen it before his own eyes. There have been more than many times someone’s realized they got screwed over after putting everything they had into a job and then for them to take a gun, knife, or maybe even using their own quirk to take that last breath. He’s never been so… concerned over how someone’s life would be majorly fucked from agreeing to his terms.

And all he’s really left to do is mentally reprimand himself for allowing himself to get so attached to some random sex worker he met by chance in the midst of moving into his apartment building. This was going to be a little more than a mess of blood on his hands when he finally gets that support item.

[akkalafuru]

Let’s talk about today.

Today I was involved in drama. Yes. I know. Surprisingly, that’s not a common thing in my life (at least not that I’m aware of—unless I’m the subject matter of a conversation that I never heard of or participated in. Does that count?) All this situation made me reflect a little bit on how I've been approached in today's discussion and I think it deserves to be addressed.

I honestly don't even know where to start... Anyway. 

Yes. I agree that harassments, bullying, threats to an author are absolutely inexcusable and unjustifiable. It many countries they're considered a crime and the offender must deal with legal consequences. So Yes! It’s wrong and not supported by me. PERIOD.

It is also true the fact that authors should get criticisms/audience feedback in order to sense where their next steps should be, especially in a serialized franchise (which yeah, it can be a curse but also an opportunity). Even if your favorite author may not change their story main plot, it's quite naive to believe they wouldn't consider the audience response at all; like never ever.

With that out of the way, the story is that someone wanted to call me out because I replied to Suetsugu's post telling I was upset because of her tweet. Other fans weren't happy either, but I was the only one who mentioned "taichihaya", so I guess i became an easy target. (Also, it's worth comment that the fan-police scrutiny is much harsher and aggressive when it comes to Taichi fans and taichihaya shippers. That’s a fact.) 

My post was not positive, but it can't be considered offensive either. And of course, the same way I was able to express my opinion, others have the same right to do so. I don't think, though, that singling me out, comparing me to actual harassers and bullies, and insulting me, are smart ways to address my or any other situation. The level of response I got was disproportional and extremely rude.

I was also accused of being a repeating offender and infamous for doing that, which puzzled me. I'm curious to know the sources and past proofs because those are very serious accusations. I honestly haven't been aware of this kind of behavior of mine, but if they're true, I need to understand what's going on so I can work on that on myself. As an advice, though, making plain false or baseless accusations only weakens one’s argument, so when accusing someone, they better be true.

And with this out of the way, I want to address some other points that I cannot let go of. 

I understand that we're all behind screens. All we see are profile pictures, nicknames and a bunch of text. But behind each account ( I’m not counting bots and fakes here) there's a person with actual feelings and their own circumstances. Unfortunately, the internet allows for the dehumanization of the "others", resulting in situations where the lack of respect is too evident. 

Going back to the drama part, as soon as I started the conversation, I was said "if you can't see your mistake, I won't waste my time with you" and then I was blocked after a couple of exchanges. What's the reason of calling someone out if they want to immediately cut off the communication? If this person was face to face to me, would they talk to me like that? If I am that waste of a time, why summon me to this situation to begin with? 

The words used were very rude and if I was in a vulnerable mental state, I would definitely take them more than personally and start questioning my self-worth. That’s a personal attack and a very destructive one. If anyone receives a response like that, please (PLEASE!) understand that it’s not about you! That’s a defense mechanism people use to mask their own weak arguments! Not only that, it also sounds entitled af.

I also understand that many people want to take action and show service for their causes and beliefs, and I'm very admired by that pro-activeness. There's definitely value when it comes to bringing change in the world to move our society to a better path. However, the ability to discern the actual threat/harm and make a proper judgement are as important as acting on it. That’s why actions should be taken with purpose and reason after proper evaluation and reflection about a situation.

In theory, it’s easy to tell the difference between what’s right or wrong as we get a lot of black-and-white examples; in reality, there are a lot more grays than one expects. This person was absolutely convinced they were right, and that’s fine. Again... it’s their right to believe so. It’s a shame they weren’t open for dialogue and basically treated me as the unredeemable, unforgivable perpetrator for something I didn’t do (?), throwing unfounded accusations after accusations at me; in addition to pointing fingers exclusively at me because I mentioned my preference, which seems to offend them.

At the end of the day, I believe that I at least have the right to express my take on this mess and my view on this person. I thought their judgement was poor and their action was extremely offensive. They lacked maturity, reason and critical sense. This situation was embarrassing, humiliating and completely unnecessary. Calling someone out just for the sake of calling them out without expecting or foreseeing a counter-argument is naive, plain stupid and immature. Giving a “last” word before blocking someone doesn’t automatically grant any victories to any arguments. So... I’m sorry if your attempt to “own” me failed.

I don’t care if people are frustrated or has a lot of time in their hands, but if it’s the latter, at least go find something useful to do instead of wasting everyone’s time by trying to give hot takes online in exchange of likes. All these attempts to make justice with your own hands—by exposing others and bringing them involuntarily to your mess—feels like you’re massaging your own ego, especially if you’re not open to communicate, nor educate, nor talk about this in a non-confrontational and rational manner. I was gonna mention cancel culture and online lynching (maybe online inquisition! that sounds pretty fitting!), but let’s not go there. 

I know that I should’ve let that go and not incite drama. However, I had to stop someone from trying to look good in front of their friends (tell more me about virtue-signaling. Ok let’s not go there.) at my expense by exploiting a situation that barely applies to their argument. The more they get away with it, the more they believe it’s right to repeat the same action. The more we become silent, the more they step on us.

Lastly, I don’t want to accuse this person for targeting specifically me for petty reasons. I want to quote this, though:  “tell me who your friends are and I will tell who you are.”

There’s a reason why this saying exists. Let’s leave at that.

Cheers!

[badassbeifong]

The Chief’s Lover (Pt. 3)

! Gif not mine!

Word Count: 1943

Warnings: Mild swearing (like, once)

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

Lin was going to resign. There was nothing you could do or say to change her mind. But you weren’t going to give up that easily. You made your way back to Air Temple Island to find Tenzin.

“Pema! Do you know where Tenzin is?”  You asked her as you ran into her.

“Yeah, he went to see how you’re doing- oh my god Y/N! What are you doing here? You should be resting!”  She hurried over to you.

“I’m fine. But I need to find Tenzin.”  You looked at her and she nodded.

“He went back to Republic City. He just left so you should be able to catch up with him.”  You nodded and took off.

If Tenzin was a member of the council, he would know Tarrlok and would be able to talk to him and maybe reason with him. He would also know how to deal with Lin.

“Tenzin!”  You called out as you spotted him in the crowd.

“Y/N! I was just coming to see you. What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed.”  Tenzin said as he waited for you to catch up.

“I was feeling better so I decided to come find you. I need some help.”  Tenzin nodded and waited for you to continue.

“You know Lin really well right?”  You asked him and he suddenly became flustered.

“I..yes I suppose you could say that.”  You nodded.

“I need you to talk to her. Earlier today she said that she would resign and now I can’t find her anywhere and I don’t know what to do.”  Tenzin looked down at you and frowned.

“Wait, Lin’s going to resign? Why?”  You could feel yourself getting dizzy but you refuse to pass out. Not this time.

“Tarrlok said something-”

“Tarrlok is a part of this?”

“Yes now let me continue. Tarrlok said something about Lin letting her feelings interfere with her work and that’s when she said that she would resign but Tenzin, I don’t understand what’s happening.”  You looked up at him only to find that he looked more worried than you.

“If Tarrlok is involved, this could turn out to be worse than it is now.”  Tenzin started walking off towards the police station leaving you there to figure out what he meant.

Deciding that Tenzin knew what he was doing, you followed him. Pema told you about his history with Lin and while it bothered you a bit, you would never hold it against Tenzin. You knew that he still wanted her to be safe.

“Tenzin, I don’t think Lin would come back here.”  You stated as you reached the building.

“Sometimes, she goes to the most obvious places.”  Tenzine swung open the door and marched in.

“If you say so.”  You shrugged and followed him.

“Lin? Are you here?”  Tenzin shouted but there was no answer.

“Like I said, she wouldn’t be here-”

“What do you want?”  Lin stepped out of her office and crossed her arms, glaring at the both of you.

“Lin, Y/N told me that you’re planning on resigning?”  Tenzin spoke carefully and you couldn’t help but wonder why.

“I am. What of it?”  She inhaled sharply and you froze.

Her tone was so different from earlier. She seemed like a different person. Was this the Chief Beifong that you had heard so much about?

“Might I ask why?” Tenzin asked her.

“It’s not something you need to know.”

“I’m curious as to how Tarrlok managed to make you resign.”  Tenzin sounded different too now. More confident.

“What makes you think Tarrlok had anything to do with it?”  Lin raised her eyebrow out of curiosity and then looked at you.

“Y/N told me everything Lin. He threatened you by using your...our past.”  Lin frowned.

“He made some good points. That’s all.”  She said as she walked towards you.

“Good points? Every other word that came out of his mouth was bullshit.”  You mumbled and she chuckled.

“Don’t go making Tarrlok your enemy. He doesn’t play fair.”  She put her hand on your shoulder and looked into your eyes.

“Why are you giving up so easily? That’s not how the Chief Beifong I heard so much about would act.”  You watched her carefully.

“She’s got a point Lin. This is very unlike you.”  Tenzin chimed in.

“There’s a lot more to this decision.”  Lin sighed and walked back into her office.

“Lin, if you just talk to us, we can help you.”  You pleaded with her but she just ignored you.

“I should also let you know, since you’re here, I’m leaving Republic City.”  She said with her back turned to you.

“What? Why?”  You walked towards her.

“I told you earlier, I put you in danger earlier. I won’t do that again.”  She started piling some papers together.

You attempted to walk closer to her but your legs gave out and you crashed onto her desk. You didn’t pass out but you couldn’t move either.

“Y/N, are you ok?”  Tenzin came running in as soon as he heard the crash.

“Does she look ok to you?”  Lin snapped back and gently lifted you into her arms.

“Where are you taking her?”  Tenzin asked as she brushed past him, walking towards the door.

“To my place.”  Lin responded and you panicked.

“Lin, I’m fine. You can put me down.”  You said but she kept walking.

“If you’re fine, kick me.”

“I- what?”

“Kick me.”

“I’m not going to kick you Lin.”

“You’re not going to or you can’t?”

You sighed and attempted to swing your leg but nothing happened. You panicked as you continued to try. Meanwhile, Lin had managed to bring you back to her house.

“I need to figure out what that toxin was. It’s still affecting you.”  Lin lay you down gently on her sofa and went off in search of something.

“Lin I’m fine! I just need to rest!”  You called out after her.

“Then rest while I figure this out!”  She shouted back and you sighed in defeat.

“You have a nice house.”  You commented as she came back with a book in her hands.

“You either have a horrible taste in decor or you’re just being nice.”  She mumbled as she sat down on the arm chair beside the sofa and started reading.

“What are you reading?”  You decided to ignore her last comment.

“A book.”

“Yes, thank you for that. What’s it about?”  You rolled your eyes and she smiled slightly.

“Different toxins and their antidotes.”  She got up suddenly and walked into the kitchen.

When she came back, she was wearing glasses. They looked...good on her. But it made you wonder how she was able to see without them. And then you realized that they were reading glasses.

“You wear glasses?”  You asked as she sat back down.

“Your eyesight starts to fail as you get older.”  She replied.

“You’re not that old.”  You mumbled and she smirked.

“I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“Well I’m glad you’re not.”

Lin stopped reading and put her book down. She looked over at you but you were now staring at the ceiling, clearly faking your interest in it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm? Oh nothing.”  You continued to stare at the ceiling but you could feel her staring at you.

“You clearly meant something by that.”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Really? And how would you be able to tell?”  You asked her and she rolled her eyes.

“You really don’t know?”

“Oh...right.”

“Are you going to tell me now?”  She got up and stood beside the sofa, towering over you and forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“Not really feeling up to it.”  You replied back and she sighed.

“Alright, I’ll figure it out myself. Let’s see, apparently I’m not approachable-”

“Apparently?”  You scoffed and she frowned at you.

“And I’m not exactly the best at conversing with people, especially when they’re hurting. But I am good at keeping my people safe. So what would make you say what you said?”  She sat back down in the arm chair.

“No, Lin, you’re looking at this the wrong way.”  You huffed and slowly sat up as you regained feeling in your body.

“Oh am I?”

“It’s not that you’d be a bad mother. In fact, I’m sure you’d be a great mother-”

“I despise children.”

“Oh...well then...look what I’m trying to say is-”

“Shush!”

“Wow, ok-”

“I hear someone.”  Lin said quietly and you fell silent.

“Chief Beifong? Are you in there?”  A man's voice called out and Lin growled.

“What do you want Tarrlok?”

“I came to bid you a farewell from the police force.”  You couldn’t see him but you assumed that he was smirking right now.

“Not interested.”  Lin called back.

“Oh, well I’m also here for Y/N.”

You froze and looked at Lin. How on earth did he know that you were here? Did someone tell him? Or was he following you?

“Y/N isn’t here.”  Lin got up slowly and walked towards the door.

“Of course she is. I saw you bring her here.”  You shivered as you realized that he had been following you.

“What do you want with her?”  Lin was now standing in front of the door and she looked like she was ready to break it down and start a fight.

“I can’t exactly disclose that information to you.”

“Well then you can leave.”

“I’m not leaving without her.”

Lin looked back at you. You could move now so if it came down to it, she could hold him off while you escaped through the emergency exit. But when she saw the look on your face, she feared that you would stay and fight.

“Lin, I can handle this.”  You said as you got up and stood beside her.

She nodded and opened the door. Tarrlok was standing there, by himself, with a very official looking document in his hands.

“I’ll go with you on one condition.”  You said and he nodded.

“Very well, what is it?”

“Lin keeps her job and you stop trying to make her resign.”  He laughed at this.

“Fine. You have my word. Let’s go.”  He turned around and you started to follow him.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”  Lin grabbed your arm, holding you back.

“Lin, you said that you don’t want me to get hurt because of you. The same applies to me. I don’t want you to have to put aside your life for me.”  You gently pulled your arm out of her grasp and followed Tarrlok.

Lin realized that there was nothing she could do at this point. You were leaving with the worst man on the planet and she couldn’t even stop you. She felt helpless. As she watched you go, she realized that the only way she could help you now was to constantly keep an eye on you. But Tarrlok seemed to have realized this too.

“Oh, Lin? If you try to follow us, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to guarantee her safety.”  After he had ensured that you were in his car, he returned to Lin’s doorstep to tell her this.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her!”  Lin shouted as he walked away laughing.

Lin’s only plan was no longer going to work. She had no idea what to do. As Tarrlok’s car pulled away, she could feel her grasp on you fading away. You were gone and there was nothing she could do. She had failed to keep you safe.

[cellophanejpeg]

dancing with our hands tied || pt. i

Pairing: Marcus Pike x female!reader

Summary: Marcus is your boss and you really enjoy working with him. But a work trip to the west coast makes him visit the past and you realize not only you like him, but you’re deeply in love with him. The only problem is that you both work together and it would never work. Or so you think.

a/n: so basically i had to split this bad boy in two cause i was writing a whole damn the mentalist episode. all you need to know is: i know nothing about how the FBI works or how crimes are solved, so i made it all up. deeply sorry if i offend any fbi agents that could be here?? if you don’t watch the mentalist, basically patrick jane is an asshole that can read people’s body language and points them out in public. that’s really all you need to know, it’s a dumb show tbh. also, this contains detective work and law enforcement, which, during times like this, i would understand if you don’t want to read this. don’t forget to donate to the black lives matter movement and sign petitions against police brutality. i’ve reblogged a variety of posts with link for donations and petitions, they're under the tag #blm resources.

Warnings: mutual pining, some angst, a pinch of fake dating

Word count: 6.7k (and there’s more coming)

part ii | MASTERLIST

The badge around your neck swings as you run and you have to hold it in place. The streets of L.A. are full of curious eyes, gathered behind the yellow tape; you check your phone one more time and sigh. No messages, no missing calls. It’s not like him, you know something’s up.

When you show your ID to the police officer that’s in charge of controlling the people, he lets you duck under the tape and approach the other agents already in the scene. You exhale, panting from your run as you introduce yourself.

“I’m with the FBI,” You tell them after stating your name. They all eye you like you’re from another dimension.

“What’s the FBI’s interest in all this?” Asks a red haired agent whose name you don’t know.

You take a look at the corpse on the ground. “‘Cause this is our guy.”

Crouching next to the lifeless body, you take a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of your jacket and put them on; with gentle fingers you tilt the dead’s head sideways so you can look for a specific mark behind his ear.

"Yep," You tilt the man's head for everyone to see a burning scar on the shape of an eye. "The Crystal Eyes gang.” You take the man’s hand to show the pinky finger ring the gang members wear, but it’s missing. Furrowing your brows you notice the tan line on his finger, where the ring should be.

The only man who actually smiles at your statement is the blond, blue-eyed guy. The rest of the agents sigh and roll her eyes, and you frown already irritated. First, your partner doesn’t show to a crime scene of a case he’s the head of, then these CBI agents are clearly not your fans.

The woman who seemed to be the boss rolls her eyes at the man and looks at your direction. Her blue eyes darting to you with anger and you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or the man with the arrogant smile. When she speaks, her voice is demanding, like she’s also your boss. “Are you leading this case on your own? Where is your partner?”

It takes everything in you not to tell her to fuck off. “He’s–” You swallow. “Coming.” You stand, looking away as you take off the gloves and discard them. Taking another look at your phone, you sigh in disappointment when you see nothing. Fucking hell, he’s not coming. What an idiot. “So, this guy’s name is–”

“You’re lying.” A voice interrupted you. It’s the man with the arrogant smile. “He’s not coming, is he?” You watch the way he smiles at you. “You keep checking your phone and the way you looked away when you talked tells us you’re either waiting for someone’s call or you’re checking to see if something happened to him.”

Fuck. How does he know all that? Were you that transparent or are you just a bad liar?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” You ask him, shoving your hands in the pockets of your FBI jacket.

“Jane.” He smiles, showing you an ID card that has a picture of him above the name ‘Patrick Jane’. “Consultant.”

Nodding slowly, you frown at him. “Jane.” You tilt your head as you speak. “He’s coming, don’t worry. If he doesn’t arrive, he must have a great, great excuse for his absence. Either way it doesn’t concern you. What you do need to know is that him and I are after this gang for about a year now, and this is the first lead we have in three months. We’re more than capable of handling this.”

“Clearly not, if your partner is not even here,” The boss says. You exhale sharply. You were going to kill your partner.

“Listen, Agent…”

“Lisbon.”

“Agent Lisbon,” You repeat her name. “I know it’s hard to see a case being taken from your team, and I’m sorry about this, but– You gotta let me do my job.”

Lisbon sighs, crossing her arms “What do they do? The gang. Do they sell drugs? They kill people? Maybe there’s something we can help you with.”

“Well, I’m with the art squad so…” You pause. “They steal art.”

You watch as all the agents look at their boss and an awkward silence tenses the air. Lisbon widen her eyes and then looks away from you, clearing her throat. It’s like their own unspoken thing.

“Art?” Patrick says, amused. “From where?”

The way he says it makes it look like a joke and you’re not sure if he’s mocking you or not.

“Art galleries, museums, you pick.” You shrug, crossing your arms in a defensive manner. “They see a place with an expensive art piece? They steal. It could even be a rich man’s living room. When it comes to Crystal Eyes, they don’t give a fuck.”

Silence hangs in the air and you could hear a pin drop, even out here in the open. Finally, red haired woman, Van Pelt clears her throat, alleviating a bit of the tension you still don’t know why it’s there.

“And, uh–” She swallows. “These robberies involve killing other people or…?”

“No, they usually use a stealth strategy.” You almost sigh, relieved for the broken silence. “Although, one time, they killed an old man at his own mansion when the robbery didn’t go as planned. I don’t believe this an accident, though.”

“Interesting,” Jane mumbled. “Hey, do you happen to know an Agent–”

“We’re done here!” Lisbon interrupts him and starts walking away. You watch her give him a look only a wife would give to her husband. Quickly glancing at their hands, you notice they use the same ring on the same finger.

Of course they’re married.

Lisbon says your name, getting your attention again and nods at you. “He’s all yours. Have fun.”

And with that, her and her team walk away from the scene. Sighing, you check your phone one last time. Still, no messages, no missing calls, not even a text. Nothing. Gritting your teeth, you shake your head.

“Godammint, Pike.”

…

You and your team had been in California literally for half a day before the call for the dead guy came in. It’s the first lead you all have on this gang in three months, so as soon as one of the informants let you know one of the leader were in L.A., you all flew to the west coast and based yourselves in one of the FBI quarters.

As soon as you walk in the big room, you see Marcus’ sitting at his desk, typing something on a computer that looks like it hasn’t been used since the 90’s.

“Pike!” You exclaim, getting his attention. His face changes from focused, to confused, to a tired look in a matter of seconds. Strolling towards him, you watch as he leans back on his chair. “Three years I’ve been working with you and you’ve never pulled a stunt like this!” You slam your hand on his desk, making everyone around you jump, except from him. “If you wanted me to look like an idiot in front of the CBI guys, well, you did it!”

He raises his hands in defense and says your name, the low baritone of his voice is enough to send shivers down your spine, but not right now. Not today, when you’re angry at him like this.

“Oh, please, do tell,” You grunt, shifting the weight of your body to one leg as you cross your arms. “I’m eager to know why you didn’t show in such an important crime scene, leaving me alone to deal with them.”

Marcus gaped at you for a second and then sighed softly. “I got stuck in the traffic.”

You roll your eyes. “Bullshit. I was miles away and managed to get there before forensics.”

He stared at you for a moment and then sighed. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Well, let this be the first and last time.” You warned him, pointing a finger to him.

“May I remind you I’m your boss, Agent?” He gives you a teasing smile, leaning back on the chair.

You sigh shaking your head. “Yeah, you seem to forget that sometimes.”

His eyes left yours and you felt a pang of sorrow for him, not knowing exactly why. You and Marcus have always had a love-hate relationship. Even though he's technically your boss, you've always treated him like equal. Yelling at him in front of colleagues wasn't a new thing, and to be honest, he’s already used to it. Shaking your head, you stroll over to the furthest desk and sit down, claiming the spot as yours for the time you stay in L.A.

Marcus Pike is an excellent agent. He’s dedicated and hardworking and a damn good boss. The man was born to lead, the passion he has for his job impresses you. Ever since you’ve joined the squad, you’ve been assigned with him as your partner. Back then, everyone told you how lucky you were to be working beside him. Three years later, you still feel lucky to work to have him as your partner. Just not today.

Needless to say, you have a mild crush on him. When you first met him, your first thought was that he was incredibly handsome. And then you were gradually being acquainted with his work style, with the way he worked hard, so your feelings for him just grew stronger over the time. You’ve become closer him over the course of the years and you know him just as well as he knows you. Which is why you just snapped at him. He’d never allow such thing if any other member of the squad talked to him like you did.

Little do you know that Marcus is harvesting a crush on you too. It’s been a while since the feelings had started to make its way to his heart. He’s not sure when it started, but he knows it’s there. He feels it every time you smile and laugh at one of his jokes. He feels it every time you come up with a lead, every time you arrest a criminal. He feels it when he sees you wearing the FBI jacket, looking so pretty with your hair in a low bun or in a ponytail. Hell, he feels it when you’re mad at him.

Marcus glances at you, from his claimed desk and sees you looking at the computer screen, forehead creased in concentration as you filled in the report from the crime scene. Sighing, he looks back at his own computer, feeling his heart sink. Three years you’ve been working together and not once you showed up with a boyfriend. Claiming your job was more important to you at the moment, you just stated that you have no time for relationships. You want to focus on your career, make a name for yourself.

Which is why you and him would never work.

The clock ticked slowly that morning as you all put the leads together to find out who killed the man of the gang. His name was Liam Dixon and he had a big name in the gang, his picture pinned on the cork board from your office back in New York for months. And now, he just drops dead. During a briefing, someone suggested it might have been an accident, a mugging that went wrong, but you know it’s more than that. Saying that the only thing that has been missing from the body was the ring, you argued that it could be either personal or a gang conflict that went wrong. Marcus agreed with you. The orientation he gave everyone is look into police calls for stolen art recently in L.A. That way, you can all have a hint where the gang is acting.

When lunch time arrives, you sigh as you check your phone and stand from your desk. Organizing your desk, you pick up the post-it notes and empty coffee cups and throw them in the trash, when you see a figure approaching you.

“Let me make it up to you,” Pike says, leaning his hand on your desk. “I know a good place where we can have lunch.”

…

Going on lunch breaks with him isn’t unfamiliar to you, but you’re still upset at him, so you order a salad and eat in silence as he eats his own meal too.

“How was the crime scene?” He tries to make conversation.

“You’d know if you were there.” The words come out too fast from your lips and you quickly shoot him an apologetic look.

“You’re still upset?”

Waving a hand at him, you shook your head. “I’m just being petty.” You swallow your food. “The scene was packed, lot of curious eyes. I got there and the CBI guys were in the scene.”

He nods, considering his next words. “Is Patrick Jane still a part of the CBI team?”

“The consultant?” Your voice gives a hint of surprise. “Yeah, he was there. Kinda weird guy if you ask me.”

Pike laughs softly, shaking his head. “Don’t let your guard down near him. He’ll read you like an open book.”

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of your water, eyeing him.

“He’s… Very observant,” He explains. “He’s good at reading people and he has no filter. If something is bothering you, he will let everyone know.”

“Huh.” You smile. “What a weirdo.”

Silence hangs in the air as you both eat. A comfortable silence, a good one.

“Did you meet Lisbon?” He asks, suddenly.

Frowning at him, you nod, biting a piece of broccoli. “Yeah, do you know her?”

Marcus sighs, drinking the rest of his water. Something in his demeanor tells you he’s… Sad, maybe? His eyelids drop to his plate and his shoulders slump as he hangs his head low. You’ve been coexisting with him long enough to tell he’s not okay. Then, a thought occurs to you.

“She’s the ex, isn’t she?” You ask, quietly. He looks up at her and nods, his expression changing, covering the trace of sadness from his face.

Marcus had told you about an ex who left him for another man during one of your stakeouts together. It broke your heart to know that a man like him, so sweet and hardworking, was left twice by women who didn’t appreciate him. You told him that they it was their loss and, after he laughed at your corny attempt at comforting him, you said that if they didn’t leave him, you’ve had never met him. That night, he looked at you like you were the light of his life. Every time you remember, you feel butterflies on your stomach and smile to yourself.

It was nearly two years ago.

And it’s not like Marcus is not over Lisbon, after all it’s been five years since the breakup. But he’s still not ready to face her. Not again. Not after the last time he saw her with Jane and felt his heart bleed. He just doesn’t want to get hurt again.

“How is–” He clears his throat. “How is she?”

“Fat.” You shake your head, grimacing at him. “Her hair was all over the place, pimples on her skin, bad breath, lettuce on her teeth–”

Marcus lets out a laugh, shaking his head. It’s the kind of laugh that makes him throw his head back and wrinkle the corner of his eyes, and, god, his smile is beautiful. He laughs genuinely and you know that, because you've heard it before. You hear it when you are in stakeouts together and you'd crack a joke he'd really liked. You hear it in birthday parties of the members of the squad, when he’s tipsy and drunk happy. You hear it when you make your snarky remarks at the perks you arrest. You could watch him laugh for hours and you would never get tired of the view, of the sound of it. It makes your stomach churn with pleasure to know that you’re the one who provoked this laugh on him. As he wipes the corners of his eyes, you smile at him, laughing softly.

“Nice try, but–” He laughs. “Thanks.”

You just shrug, shaking your head. “Is that why you didn’t go to the crime scene?”

Pike’s smile fades away and you regret the question when you see the expression he gives you. Something tells you to take it back, to apologize and leave it like that, but if he didn’t want to face her… Then, maybe, he still has feelings for her. And the thought, somehow, hurts you.

“Yeah, I, uh–” He swallows. “I don’t think I’m ready to face her again.”

“Oh.” Is all you say.

After finishing your lunch, you both pay the bill and leave the restaurant. The thick, awkward silence grows heavy between the two of you as you both walk together back to the quarters. You want to speak, but you don’t know how to comfort him, how to make him feel better. And then a different voice calls his name.

“Marcus?”

You both stop walking and turn around. Lisbon and Jane, hands laced together, are staring at the both of you. Marcus’s heart almost stop at the sight, his breath get caught on his throat as he widens his eyes.

“Teresa,” He replies, a surprised tone in his voice, eyeing Jane and nodding at him. “Patrick.”

“I see you kept the, uh–” Jane points at his own face to indicate a beard. “The look.”

Marcus nods at him, but doesn’t respond. You nod shortly at Patrick and glance at Lisbon.

“How– How are you?” She asks, looking right into his eyes. A shot of jealousy hits your heart, and you swallow hard trying to push the feeling away.

“Good,” Marcus answer, smiling. “You?”

“Good.” She smiles at him and you have to look away. Pursing your lips, you discreetly take a deep breath and cross your arms.

This woman had Marcus wrapped around her finger and really discarded him when she decided she didn’t want him. She played with his feelings until she got tired and left, not knowing she had a great man who was in love with her and was willing to do anything for her. She doesn’t know how lucky she was for having him. The anger sets in your chest faster than expected as they make small talk, but you don’t listen to them. You can’t, or you’ll explode with anger. It’s Jane’s voice that pulls you out of you thoughts.

“You’re jealous.” His voice is directed to you and both of them stop talking to look at you.

“What?” You frown in confusion.

“Your lips.” He points to his own lips as he talks. “They’re pursed together. You’re crossing your arms to shield yourself, and you have this… Sour expression on your face.”

Widening your eyes, you look at Pike but he’s just as surprised as you are.

“You have feelings for Agent Pike and you’re jealous that he’s giving attention to his ex girlfriend.” Jane smiled triumphant. You gape, feeling your heart speed, and the heat on your cheeks as you look at him surprised. Lisbon shoots a look at Jane as if she’s saying stop reading people without their permission. Your eyes are focused on the ground, knowing that if you look at Pike, it'll be game over.

"Of course she has feelings for me." Pike laughs softly after a short awkward pause. You shoot a look at him, a frown in your brow, confused as hell. "She's my girlfriend."

A silent pause hangs between all of them. Agent Lisbon frowns deeply, widening her eyes to the both of you. Jane's smile fades away. Pike's smile grows wider. And you… You just look at him in shock, thinking about how quickly he thought of the lie. It's unnecessary to lie, there's no point in telling the CBI that you were together, except–

He wanted to impress Lisbon. Of course.

Trying to conceal your emotions from Jane, cause he'd know if you're lying, you smile at the couple and laugh softly. Marcus approaches you and lays his palm flat on your lower back. A touch that makes you tense and melt at the same time. The warmth of his hand gives you some comfort and, despite everything going on, it's a comfort you needed for a really long time.

"We're trying to keep it a secret, for now." The words roll off easily from your lips and when you see, you're already wrapping an arm around his torso, smiling as brightly as you can. "Because we're coworkers, and we don't know how the squad would react." And then, with a playful tone, you look at Pike. "But someone can't keep his mouth shut."

Marcus laughs, shaking his head. A fake laugh.

"I just can't contain myself." He leans towards you to press his lips on the crown of your head. “I’m too happy with you.”

It shouldn’t make your heart jump, but it does. You look up at him and give him a real smile this time, your eyes softening as a light breath leaves your lips. He looks at you and notices it, slightly tilting his head like a confused puppy, reading your expression too well. Your smile fades for a moment as you look away, but the fake smile returns when you look at Patrick.

“Oh,” He says, looking a little too disappointed.

“We have to go,” You tell them, smiling. “We got a gang to catch.”

As soon as you both are out of their sight, you let go of each other. The walk back to the quarters is silent and awkward and you have to put an effort to not blush the entire way. Pike warned you, the man is good at reading people. And he really has no filter at all. You just hope that your partner thinks Jane is wrong, you can’t afford him knowing about your feelings for him.

When you reach the doors to the quarters, he calls your name, stopping by the steps. Looking back at him, you see him, with his hands on his hips and his eyes on the floor. You swallow, feeling your heart speed up.

“About what Jane said–”

“He was wrong.” You’re quick to interrupt. Marcus’ eyes dart up to you and you have to stop yourself from sighing.

“He’s never wrong.” His voice is soft and there’s a hint of something in his eyes. It’s something sparkly, like– Like hope. You have to look away, pushing the feeling away as you shove your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

“Well, he was,” You tell him, and when he says your first name, “We’re coworkers. Don’t worry, I don’t have feelings for you.”

With that, you turn your back to him and enters the quarters, the lie still burning your throat. Heading straight to the bathroom, you feel your eyes watering. By the time you lock the door, they run down your cheeks and you sob. You didn’t know why it hurt so much to lie to him, but it does.

You’re really into him, aren’t you?

…

Another member of the gang was murdered. Frederick Hale, second to leader of the Crystal Eye, was found dead by gunshot wounds almost in the same street Liam Dixon was found. When you and Pike got the crime scene to identify the body, forensics were almost done with everything.

“That doesn’t make sense,” You say, gripping you tea mug on the table. During the briefing, your brain is working like a machine, trying to figure out why the member of the gang were dropping like flies.

“Could be a coincidence.” Russell suggested, shrugging.

“It could be, but two members in the same day?” You argue.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Pike tells everyone. “Ballistics came through. Liam and Frederick were killed by the same gun.”

It doesn’t surprise you. You knew it was too good to be a coincidence.

“So, someone is definitely taking them out.” You nod.

“Maybe they both fucked up, and the man was mad about it.” Davis shrugs.

“No, it’s not like Yosef,” Pike says, sitting down and crossing his arms. The shirt tightens around his arms and you look away quickly, not letting the horny thoughts distract you from the investigation. “He doesn’t eliminate his members like that.”

“What if someone’s infiltrated in the gang?” You bite your thumbnail, like you always do, a habit Marcus noticed you did in the first week of working with you. You do it when you’re concentrated, thinking of something important.

“Like an informant?” He asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“No, no. Like– Someone who joined it with the specific purpose of killing them?”

“Like an avenger?” Davis scoffs and you shoot an angry look at him.

“Yeah,” Pike says, nodding. “I thought the same thing.”

Finally, finally you look at him. He gives you an assuring look as he's saying I agree with you and I have your back at the same time. That’s a thing you like about him. The way you both communicate without words. You open your mouth to agree, but his phone rings before you make a word out. He picks it up, dismissing you all with a wave of his hand and you sigh, standing up and walking to your desk.

You only get to turn the computer screen before Marcus makes a quick beeline for you and asks if he could talk to you for a moment. Outside. Feeling your stomach churning, you nod, knowing something is wrong. Following him to the back patio of the building, you take a couple of deep breaths, preparing yourself for whatever is coming. When you both are in a safe distance from the other members of the squad, he turns to you and sighs.

“That was Jane on the phone.” He explains, quickly.

A frown is on your forehead. “Jane? Patrick Jane?”

“Yeah.” He breathes, wetting his lips with his tongue and exhaling softly. “He invited us to a double date.”

A laugh escapes your lips and you smile, thinking it’s a joke. “A double date with who?”

His face is serious when he answers. “You and me, him and Teresa.”

The smile falls from your face and you tilt your head, knowing there’s more to it. “And you said no, right?”

Marcus’ gaze is on the floor as he avoids the question by staying in silence.

“Pike.” You insist. “Tell me you said no.” No answer. “Please, tell you said we’re going to be busy or that we had plans already.

You wait for his answer until he finally looks at you again. “I said yes.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you close your eyes and sigh deeply. Marcus bites his bottom lip, eagerly waiting for an answer, leg bouncing in anxiety.

“Why?” You ask, eyes still closed.

“I-I– I just–”

“Is this about Teresa?” You interrupt him before he could think of what to say. “Is this you trying to prove a point to her?”

“No!” He answers too quickly and you narrow your eyes at him. “Y-you know I can’t lie to Jane, he’ll know if I do!”

“Not even on the phone?!” You argue.

“Trust me, he’d know.”

Looking away, you sigh, crossing your arms. Marcus knows he’s putting you in a difficult position and the truth is that he doesn’t actually know why he said yes to the date. Maybe he just wishes he could go out with you and, knowing you would refuse his invitation if it was a normal situation, he accepted to continue to lie to Teresa and Patrick just to go out with you.

“Fine.” You finally answer. “When?”

“Tonight, eight o’clock.”

Sighing, once more, you nod. “Okay. But his ends tonight. No more lies. We’re here to work.”

He raises his hands in defense. “I promise, boss.”

“Fuck.” You mumble, walking away from him and ignoring the teasing nickname,

This is bullshit.

 …

Why this had to happen?

You look at yourself in the mirror for the hundredth time. The hotel room is a mess, clothes all scattered around the floor and bed. You didn’t bring any date clothes. Not even a casual dress. Not even a formal dress. You weren’t counting on going on a fucking date with a fake boyfriend.

The only formal set of clothes you bring is a plaid gray skirt, with length just above the knees, and a blazer in the same color and pattern. You put it in your suitcase just in case you’d have to attend an audience or be in the presence of a judge. Pairing it with a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of your usual office heels – black stiletto heels with a pointed toe – you decided this is the outfit.

Many times you imagined what your first date with Marcus would be. Your imagination liked to go far, from movie dates to fancy dinners, after all, it doesn’t hurt to think, right? But you never, ever imagined it would be like this. Faking a relationship to impress his ex. It kinda hurts, you realize, being a pawn to his game. But, deep down, you were dying for an excuse to go out with him. Even if it might be unprofessional. You just wish it would be you and him only.

A soft knock on your door announces he’s ready. You check your makeup and adjust your hair quickly, before walking to the door. You open it to a see a very handsome Marcus Pike standing at your door. He’s wearing a black suit and tie, like he usually does at work, but something is different. He’s neater, his hair is combed in place and his beard is trimmed and… Is he wearing cologne? The smell invades your nostrils and intoxicates you quickly, in a good way.

“Should I have shaved?” He asks, when you don’t speak. You blink, returning to the real world.

“No.” You shake your head, smiling. “You look– You look great.”

A shy smile curves the corners of his lips. “You too.”

You wave a hand at him, grabbing your clutch bag and closing the door behind you.

“I didn’t bring anything fancy, so…” You try to explain yourself.

“No, no, you look–” He hesitates. “You look beautiful.”

Feeling your cheeks warm, you look away from him, clearing your throat. Marcus is still amazed by you, looking so different tonight. Your hair is down and he fights the urge to run his fingers through it. In the three years he’s known you, he tries to think when he ever saw you with your hair down and he can’t. This might be the first time.

“Shall we?” You pull him out of his thoughts. He nods, and offers his arm for you to hook yours in it. You feel nervous, but for some reason, there’s a good feeling settled in your stomach.

Soft classical music reaches your ears as you enter the fancy restaurant, Marcus following right behind you, his hand hovering your lower back. As soon as you enter, a receptionist smiles and asks for your names.

“Yeah, we’re under the name Jane,” Marcus says, nodding once at her. She checks a list and tells you both to follow her.

She guides you both to an empty table and, for a moment, you think maybe they’re late, until you realize it’s a table for two. Your stomach drops and you swallow, frowning confused at the lady. Marcus laughs softly and shakes his head.

“No, there must be a mistake,” He says.

The receptionist frowns and checks the list again. “It says here you’ve reserved a table for two, Mister Jane.”

Marcus gapes at her as she walks away leaving you two behind. A waiter is politely waiting for you both to sit down at the table to hand you the menu, but you just look at each other, mouths hanged open.

“Maybe–” You say, swallowing hard. “Maybe we’re at the wrong restaurant.”

“No, he did this.” He whispers to you as you look at him, confused. “He set us up.”

A scoff leaves his throat as you look at him, pale and shaking. Does that mean you’re on an actual date… With Marcus Pike?

“What do we do now?” You ask, holding your clutch bag tightly with your hands.

“Well, we have two options. We can leave, and that’s okay if you want to.” He looks you in the eyes, leaning slightly towards you in honesty. “Or we can have dinner.”

The look you give him is one he can decipher. He can’t tell if you’re offended by the proposition or just thinking about it. Deep down he’s hoping you say yes, hoping you’d have dinner with him, just you and him. Then, a shy smile curves the corners of your lips and you shrug.

“Okay,” You tell him. “Since I’ve put on makeup and got all dressed up.”

He smiles at you and walks to the table to pull the chair for you to sit on. As the waiter hands you the menu and Marcus sits down in front of you, you try to calm down your nerves and try not to think you’re in an actual date with Agent Pike aka your boss. You order white wine and him Whiskey. After the waiter leaves, a moment of silence hangs between the both of you until you laugh nervously.

“I gotta admit,” You say, laughing. “Going on a date with my boss is kinda… Weird.”

Marcus stares at you for a few seconds and you wonder if saying the d-word was a bad move. But then he smiles, looking down at the menu and shaking his head.

“Just… Don’t think of me as Agent Pike. Tonight I’m just Marcus.”

“Marcus.” You repeat his name and nod. “Okay, Marcus… So what do you do for fun?”

Marcus breath almost hitches at the way you say his name and he imagines a thousand scenarios where you say his name like that. He clears his throat and swallows, closing the menu and looking at you.

“You know, the usual,” He answers. “Drink beer, watch TV.”

You smile, raising your eyebrows. “That’s all?” You tease. “You’re going to tell me Agent Marcus Pike doesn’t have a hobby?”

“C’mon.” He laughs. “You know which are my hobbies. You’ve known me for years.”

“Hmm, yes.” You smile. “But you said you’re Marcus tonight and I’m just trying to get to know you.”

Marcus looked at you with warmth in his eyes. A certain look that makes your stomach churn in pleasure, your heart speed and your cheeks warm. It’s something different. Perhaps the first time you look at his eyes like this in three years of knowing him.

“Alright,” He finally says. “My hobbies include watching TV, cooking and martial arts.”

A frown grows between your brows as you look at him surprised. “Cooking? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, I decided to give it a try last month.” He shrugs and waits for the waiter to serve their drink before continuing talking. “I keep burning water, I don’t know why I even try.”

A laugh escapes your lips. A genuine laugh. “That bad, huh?” You take a sip of the wine as you watch him nod. “You just practice. I can teach you some recipes if you want. My mom tells me I’m an excellent cook.”

“Yeah, maybe you should.” He gives you that look again and you clear your throat, playing with the stem of your glass of wine. Marcus’ fingers slowly approach yours, barely grazing at your skin before pulling away at the sound of the waiter’s voice asking if you were ready to order.

Marcus orders the special stake and you the mushroom cream soup. The food is good, tasty, but you really wished you could have something simpler. You didn’t mind, as long as you’re with him. The night goes by with laughter, talk about your personal lives and stolen looks from each other. By dessert, you both were buzzed off by the alcohol and kept laughing at everything.

“Wait, you threw up on her?” You ask, a wide smile on your face as Marcus tells you a story about his very first date, where he got too drunk and everything went wrong.

“On her shoes!” He replies, burying his face on his hands.

“Oh my god!” You put a hand on your mouth to muffle a laugh.

“I was seventeen, okay?” He argues, laughing too.

Wiping a tear from the corner of your eyes, you sigh, feeling your face warm. You both fall into a comfortable silence as Marcus reaches for your hands on the table. Your fingers touch his and you feel the warmth of his body sending shivers down your spine. You realize you want to hold his hand forever, the feeling of his rough palm on yours is comforting to you.

“I’m having a great time.” He confesses, a closed-lipped smile on his face. An involuntary smile curves your lips too, letting the feeling take over you.

“Me too.” Your voice is small, shy. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” He agrees and fall in silence again.

Suddenly, an urge to tell him how you feel hits you. It may be the alcohol, but you can’t shake off the thoughts of confessing your feelings to him from your mind. You shouldn’t do it, not even your drunk self knows it. But the pain of yearning for a man, a good man, and not being reciprocated hits you and you don’t like the feeling.

“It’s getting late.” You whisper instead and he nods, asking for the check. He insists on paying, despite your protests.

The cab ride back to the hotel is silent and he’s not touching you anymore, but you wished he was. You wished he reached out for your hand, laced them together and pressed his lips on your skin. You wished this night never ended, you wished you would never let him go. The buzz of the alcohol is already faded when you both arrive at your hotel room, pulling the keycard from your wallet. Marcus walks with you and you look at him, smiling.

“So that was fun,” You say, biting your bottom lip.

“It was.” He smiles back. “We should do it again some time.”

Your heart skips a beat at small offer and all you can do is nod and smile. God, you really want to kiss him. You really want to kiss that stupid face, wipe off that stupid grin and pull him to your room. Licking your lips, your eyes set on his and he seems to notice because he licks his own lips, making your breath hitch.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” He says, looking right into your eyes.

And you should say no. You should draw the line, tell him you work together and that would be inappropriate. But instead you say,

“Okay.”

And then his lips gently press into yours as you close your eyes. The air escapes from your lungs as you reach for his neck, pulling him closer, his own hands cup your cheeks, kissing you tenderly. It feels amazing. The sensations his lips give you are beyond your imagination. As you open your mouth, allowing him you slip his tongue in, you sigh, deepening the kiss and tugging at his hair.

Then, you sober up. You pull away too quickly and wide your eyes, the blood draining from your face and your throat closing at the realization you just kissed your fucking boss.

“Shit,” You mumble, backing up. Marcus calls your name softly.

“It’s okay–”

“No.” You interrupt him. “You’re my boss, we work together.” You exhale sharply. “We can’t.”

“Sweetheart–”

“Don’t.” You raise a finger to him. “Please– Just don’t.”

Fumbling with the keycard you enter your room without giving him a chance to speak. The place it’s still a mess from your private fashion show, but you don’t care. Tears spill from your eyes as you remove your shoes and your clothes, not bothering to putting on pajamas or organizing the room before burying yourself under the covers.

Well, now, you’re really fucked.

_

tags: @madadlorian​ @xo-dragonette-xo​ @rosetophighlander​ @adikaofmandalore​ @pedropascalito​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @burningsoulbloodyheart​ 

let me know if you want to be tagged in part ii!

[fandom-necromancer]

It’s never too late to realise

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope you like it, I somehow think I could have made this better. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Characters: Gavin Reed, RK900 [Part2]

Gavin sighed and opened a new document. ‘Gavin.’ ‘Hmm?’ He looked up at the android sitting opposite of him. ‘Your appointment is in ten minutes, are you sure you want to start that report right now?’ ‘The phck is your problem surveying my goddamn terminal?’, Gavin called over before turning back to his screen and shrugging, adding a bit calmer: ‘Didn’t plan on going.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Hey, tin-can, I don’t want to talk to another phcking shrink about my life again, okay? And this week I can get away with it, pretending I didn’t know they already replaced the old one.’ ‘Oh, I’m sure it is terrible’, Nines prodded him. ‘My name is Gavin, I’m an asshole and I hate everyone, now give me the okay to look at dead people.’ ‘That’s not how this works!’, Gavin hissed back. ‘Oh, I’m sorry’, Nines chuckled. ‘My name is Gavin, I’m a socially inept asshole, who hates everyone, ask me your questions I will without doubt find witty comebacks to instead of actually working on my problems and then give me the okay to look at dead people.’ Gavin felt how his shoulders tensed, because phck this tin-can, seriously! As if a machine could understand- ‘Phck it, fine, I’ll go if only to get away from your useless ass.’

Gavin really didn’t want to go. For entirely different reasons than his plastic partner thought of, but honestly it was better he just thought Gavin was too stubborn to get help. No, Gavin knew he needed it, needed some sort of guidance to help him come to terms and ultimately get over his problems. But he also knew the last therapist hadn’t been of any help, so why try again? Maybe he just had to get himself together and press on. Maybe he really just imagined it and if he wouldn’t be this goddamn weak then he could- He sighed as he knocked at the office door at point twelve. ‘Come in!’ So, another try then.

He sat down opposite to the human – were they even human? – therapist. ‘Hello! You must be Detective Reed. My name is Elise Thorn. It’s a pleasure to meet you!’ Gavin took her hand and shook it, grimacing. ‘Let’s see how that changes in a week’s time’, he grumbled. ‘Let’s see how that’ll be then indeed’, she just answered, still smiling. ‘Miss Lisa really didn’t leave a lot of notes behind, so I guess we’ll have to start from scratch again. I’m sorry about that. Would you tell me a bit about yourself? What progress did you make with your previous therapist?’ Gavin laughed ugly. Progress? For real? ‘Well, as it likely states in my file, I have trouble working with androids and there is a severe case of anger issues. That’s about it.’ ‘Okay… Then let’s start with your trouble with androids. What would that be exactly?’

‘I’m afraid of androids.’ Heh, the last time he had said that, Miss Lisa had just laughed him in the face, telling him the revolution was over and that her kind didn’t plan on overthrowing humanity anymore. ‘That’s not what I’m afraid of.’ ‘Then what are you afraid of?’ ‘Their strength. The way they don’t show feelings.’ ‘You do know that’s pretty racist, right? You really shouldn’t think that way.’ Yeah, right. As if Gavin would make the same mistake a second time.

‘I can’t trust androids. My… My partner never did anything, and I should be having no doubts with him, but… yeah. I somehow always think he will turn on me and-‘ ‘And?’ The woman wasn’t smiling, but her face was still looking supportive, so Gavin continued: ‘I always expect androids to fake being friendly and civil and then turn on me when no one’s looking and hurt me.’ He looked up expecting what his previous therapist had said so many times to be repeated: ‘Man up. Hurt you? Why should they? And you’re not looking like a guy that couldn’t take up that fight. Seriously, that’s ridiculous.’ ‘Did you have any experiences with androids that would support that apprehension? Maybe during the revolution?’ Ah, there it was. Why are you like this? Is there a reason? That’s not a valid reason, come on. You just hate us, that’s it. ‘Not during it, before’, Gavin said. ‘I am Elijah Kamski’s half-brother. We grew up together. He started working on androids then and… and there was an accident in the lab. I ran away afterwards and applied at the police academy.’ ‘Do you want to share what happened with me?’ ‘Not really’, Gavin sighed. ‘I want to forget it, but I guess you won’t stop asking, right?’

‘Detective Reed, I am here to help’, she said, putting down the tablet she had written on until now. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want me to know. But the more I know the better I can try to help you.’ Huh. So not telling was an option? ‘You seem surprised.’ Gavin laughed. ‘Just saying your predecessor used to make this an interrogation.’ ‘Well, I heard as much’, she sighed and rested her head in her hands. ‘I was there with Eli, used to watch how he worked on androids while doing my own stuff. Just for the company, I guess. Or the sounds relaxed me, I don’t know. Well, one day I was playing something on my phone and only looked up as I heard my brother choking. The phcking thing was on top of him, nearly crushing his windpipe and I froze, I couldn’t do anything. In the end I beat it with a fire extinguisher until it broke and let go off my brother. I couldn’t spend another second with an android afterwards, I had an argument with Eli in the hospital, how he had to stop, but he couldn’t see my point, convinced it was his error only. Moved out then and kept away from androids. But now they are people and… Well, I have to work with them.’ ‘Are you afraid of androids?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did you ever spoke with an android about that?’ Gavin let his shoulders fall. ‘Well, the last one was my therapist and he laughed me in the face.’

The woman in front of him cringed at that and quickly underlined something on her tablet messily. ‘Okay. Any other contact with androids that ended badly besides that accident and my predecessor that really has to have his license revoked?’ ‘No. I mean, Connor, the RK800 here punched me unconscious once, but that really was my fault. I don’t like him, but at least that reaction I can understand.’ Still, his new therapist noted it.

‘Okay, that’s something we can work on. You also said you had anger issues?’ ‘I’m easily riled up’, Gavin shrugged. ‘It’s just how I am.’ ‘What makes you think that?’ ‘Well, actually, everyone says that. Has to be some truth to it, hasn’t it?’ ‘What are they saying?’ ‘You sure this isn’t an interrogation?’, Gavin baited with her. ‘You are evading the question. Tell me or say you don’t want to talk about it.’ ‘I’m an asshole, I’m angry all the time, I hate everyone, these kind of things.’ ‘Do you?’ ‘What?’ ‘Do you hate everyone?’, she repeated for him. ‘A bit?’ Gavin had never really thought about it. ‘Okay. Then tell me, are there people you care about?’

Gavin thought about it for a while. ‘Yeah, Tina. She’s a colleague and a friend. My partner, although he is an android. Hell, even Connor and Hank. I guess everyone I know I care about at least a bit.’ ‘What about yourself?’ ‘What kind of question is that?’, Gavin asked. ‘Of course.’ ‘Then tell me, what do you do to take care of yourself? What are your hobbies, what do you like to do? When was the last time you had fun?’ ‘Hey, what kind of phcking feel-good shit is this?’, Gavin wanted to know, refusing to even think about the questions. ‘Would you rather not talk about it?’ ‘Yes! God, I don’t have the time for that!’ Gavin had stood up and was about to go, but the woman held up her hands. ‘That’s okay. We can concentrate on your android related problems first. I think that would be it for now. See you next week then!’ ‘Wait, that’s it?’, Gavin asked, turning back towards the desk. ‘Yeah. I mean unless you want to talk about something else.’ The woman had the audacity to look as innocent as humanly – androidly? – possible.

Gavin thought about the question and contemplated whether asking was worth it, finally deciding that he had nothing to lose: ‘Yeah, I’m curious, what’s your diagnostics?’ ‘I’m not sure yet, we need more than one session for that.’ Gavin snorted. ‘Keeping it mysterious, hmm?’ ‘Maybe.’

-

Nines had enjoyed working in peace for once. With Gavin gone to visit his therapist, he could finally concentrate on his cases. He didn’t have to bother with the human cursing at random things, shouting at his computer out of nowhere and running to the breakroom and the toilet all the time. He liked working with the man. He preferred it to working with others. But sometimes Gavin just was a pain in the ass with his constant competitive attitude, his stubborn determination to do all the work alone and his damn self-deprecating humour all the time… Maybe this new therapist was able to help the human better than the last one. Or maybe Gavin was just a lost cause, who knew. Nines was just happy about the short break, but all too quickly that time was over. He saw his partner walk towards their desks and was already bracing himself for having to listen to Gavin monologue about what an asshole the new woman was and how talking didn’t do shit and something along these lines. At the very least he would be in a shitty mood for the rest of the day or overly anxious.

It came as some sort of surprise to him, when Gavin just sat down and quietly started up his terminal again, apparently lost to thoughts. Nines furrowed his brows and conducted a quick, maybe not strictly legal search. ‘You have android related PTSD and there is a high chance you are suffering from depression?’ Nines just couldn’t believe it, that was his only explanation to why he had said that out loud. ‘What?!’, Gavin threw back. ‘The phck you get that from?’ ‘Your therapist’s notes… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked, but you seemed so different to your usual behaviour.’ ‘Yeah, well phck you, this one actually does her phcking job! Or at least she does a better job! Maybe I am, maybe she is wrong, but goddamn it feels good not to hear the same shit all day!’ Nines didn’t know how to answer, so he tried to resort to humour: ‘Was getting your ass handed to you by Connor really that bad?’ But instead of laughing, Gavin glared at him. ‘Okay, toaster, listen here, because I will say this once and then you can make fun of me all you want. I know I have problems; I know I’m not the nicest guy. But do you really think I’m a cry-baby? I saw my brother nearly getting murdered by one of you phcking things! That I can even look you in the eyes now and work with you is already a huge phcking thing! And I don’t think I’m depressed, but holy shit, getting told to man up and that all my problems are just there because I don’t function your way and that I’m just an asshole who will never change? Not helping! I need another phcking coffee!’

Nines blinked a few times, staring into the open air over Gavin’s chair. He didn’t know what to make of that new information and quietly opened a connection with Connor to share it. The RK800 too stopped working and stared ahead for a while, before they both turned to look at each other. We’ve made it worse, haven’t we?

[>next part]

[iron--spider]

you are my sunshine

“Pete, where are you?” Tony asks, pressing the phone to his ear as he walks down the sidewalk. “Are you sure this isn’t a go in guns blazing situation?”

 “No, no, no, absolutely not,” Peter says. There’s a lot going on in the background of wherever he is, supposedly the Hi-Collar on 10th street, and usually when Tony gets calls this late, it’s Spider-Man shit. But Peter said for Tony not to suit up and to come as fast as he could, and for some reason, Tony listened.

 Why is he listening to a teenager? Why is he letting a teenager dictate his actions? Peter literally has him at his beck and call, and this whole thing could literally be him tricking Tony into hanging out because I’m bored and I stopped all the crime.

 An actual thing he said out loud, once. Tony was mad that he laughed.

 “Pete, I’m gonna need some more information,” Tony says, feeling like an imbecile for taking so long to insist. “I’m walking all around out here all over God’s green earth—”

 “I’m in the restaurant! In the back most booth. Hurry, because it’s gonna close soon, they close at one!”

 Tony lets out a very measured, very irritated sigh, and finally he sees the place coming around the corner. “Alright, alright, I see it. What are you doing over here? Info. Stat.”

 “Uh, you’re gonna see.”

 “Peter, I swear to God, if I come in there and find—”

 “I don’t know how that sentence is gonna end but there’s no way you can guess this.”

 “Guess,” Tony says, marching inside and waving at the lady at the front. This place is way too hopping for almost one in the morning. Tony likes to avoid his sleeping in the comfort of his own home. “I didn’t know we were playing a—”

 He stops. He sees him. Both of them hang up.

 Tony gets closer. He feels like he might just be hallucinating. There’s no way he’s seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. He rubs at his eyes, but no, it doesn’t change. He’s seeing exactly what he’s seeing.

 “Who is that?” Tony asks, pointing, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears.

 “Uh, I don’t know her name,” Peter says. He’s bouncing a beautiful baby girl on his knee, arms wrapped protectively around her. She can’t be any more than a year old. “I was out, doing my thing, you know, when I found her—”

 “Stop,” Tony says. He holds up his hands and sits down in the booth across from him. The baby looks serene and happy, in her little pink outfit, and she pats her hands on the table, leaning forward. Tony just keeps staring. “Stop.”

 “I stopped.”

 “How do you just—how do you just find a baby?” Tony asks, incredulous. “I don’t understand.”

 “Because you’re not letting me explain,” Peter says. The baby babbles a little bit and looks back at him, and Peter smiles at her. “It’s okay, pretty girl, don’t worry.”

 “Peter.”

 “Okay, uh,” Peter says, holding one of the baby’s hands. He’s got an array of Japanese food sitting on the table, like he was trying to see if the baby could eat any of it. “Well, it’s not really a long story. I had just stopped a mugging and I was gonna go see if I could go get a hot chocolate and then I found this baby. Just. Crawling in the alleyway by herself.”

 “Were there any screaming mothers present?” Tony asks, leaning forward, feeling like he’s going half insane. “Anyone yelling hey, spandex boy, don’t take my baby!”

 Peter glares at him, and the baby laughs, leaning back against his chest.

 “I’m sorry,” Tony says, his heart going half wild in his ears. This was not what he expected at all. A dead body would have made more sense. He braces his hand over his eyes and tries to think like a rational person. “I just didn’t think I’d be becoming a grandfather so soon.”

 Peter snorts and laughs and Tony looks back up. 

 “I wasn’t sure what to do,” Peter says. “I mean, I can’t keep her.”

 Tony scoffs. “Uh, yeah, that’s a given, and also, not how this works.” He sighs again, drawing in a breath. Rational. Rational. “Okay, you stayed in the same area, right? Where you found her?”

 “Literally one alleyway away, I stayed close,” Peter says. “But it’s late and I had to, you know, change—”

 “You could have stayed Spi—” Tony looks over his shoulder, to make sure nobody’s listening. “Well. You could have stayed as you were.”

 Peter sighs and lifts the baby’s hand up and down, glancing off towards the front door. “I don’t know. I was worried it would attract too much attention. Like maybe if someone had like, kidnapped her or something, they’d see me and try to fight me and I couldn’t protect her.”

 The baby yells and dances around, clapping her hands together. She doesn’t seem too distressed, but Tony doesn’t know how babies work. He knows they’re definitely not happy all the time, so they’re lucky she’s not crying. 

 “Alright, uh, well, let’s go to the police,” Tony says. “I’ll pay your bill, the precinct is close—”

 “That’s what we’re gonna do?” Peter asks, holding the baby tighter, like Tony is trying to yank her away from him. “That’s what I called you for? Cause I coulda just done that.”

 Tony narrows his eyes. “What did you want me to do? Magic? Because I think there’s another guy for that—”

 “You’re basically the police!” Peter says, eyes wide.

 “I’m not, I’m just a rich person,” Tony says, taking out his wallet.

 “You’re a superhero,” Peter says.

 “So are you,” Tony whispers, taking out a hundred dollar bill. “But we can’t go dragging a baby a million miles away from where you found it, this isn’t wartime or something like Sokovia where people were separated from their children—”

 “But shouldn’t we, in particular, be able to do something?” Peter whispers. “Like maybe I, you know, become the other guy again, and you hold onto the baby and I go swinging around knocking on doors and stuff?”

 “Police have better options for all that,” Tony says. “Cut down on all the—swinging time.”

 Peter sighs, and he’s never looked more disappointed in him. “Fine, but if we’re going to the police station, we’re staying with the baby.” 

 “Fine,” Tony says, pulling himself out of the booth. “I’m parked on the street a little ways away.”

 Peter stares up at him. “We’re as in, me and you both staying with the baby.”

 The baby gurgles and blows bubbles and sucks them back into her mouth.

 “Yes. I understand English, unlike our little powder puff friend here.”

 Peter sighs again and gets up, awkwardly putting his backpack on, one-handed, and adjusting the baby in his arms. She’s chunky and she kicks her little legs out and keeps reaching up, pawing at Peter’s chin. She looks at Tony and yelps, reaching out for him. Peter gasps, grinning, and Tony starts heading for the exit.

 “She wants you to hold her!”

 “She just likes my facial hair,” Tony says, walking ahead and holding the door open for the kid and the...other kid. “Dad must have some.”

 They get outside and Peter shoves up close to Tony, standing on his tip-toes and knocking their shoulders together. Tony narrows his eyes down at him and sees the baby reaching up, making little curious noises until her small hand comes in contact with his chin now, too.

 “Yup, you’re right,” Peter says, stepping back a little bit after a moment. “Can you communicate telepathically with babies? Can you ask her where her parents are?”

 “Yep, they live in that apartment building right over there,” Tony says, pointing. 

 Peter glares at him.

 “What? Don’t ask questions you don’t want fake answers for.”

 The baby laughs at him, making little stilted movements back and forth in Peter’s arms. She’s got a few curls of blonde hair, and her little headband squashes them down. 

 “See, she thinks I’m funny,” Tony says, knocking Peter on the shoulder. “Lighten up, webs.”

 Peter sighs. “I’m just worried. I really hope she wasn’t taken or something. By some stupid guys that lost her and now they’re running around looking.” He cracks his jaw. “Maybe I should have stayed as—you know who. I just don’t know if it would have drawn too much attention, or if I’m more of a target like this—”

 “I’m here now,” Tony says, patting him more gently on the shoulder. “So nobody’s gonna try shit. C’mon. Car’s this way.”

 ~

 Tony feels strangely like he’s letting the kid down by not immediately being able to solve this, and he does send up some flares with his contacts in the city, hoping something hits before the police can do their thing. But meanwhile, he sits in the back room of the police station with Peter, and the little girl Peter is having a hard time not having a name for, while the cops call people and search and put out APBs.

 “I just think it’s stupid that we—I mean, like, you and the others, can’t instantly solve something like this,” Peter says, glancing around like he’s checking for security cameras.

 “I can already see the words ‘Stark Kidnaps Baby’ scrawled across the front page of the New York Times if that kid got anywhere near a building that I own,” Tony says. 

 Peter’s holding the baby up on the table, and she keeps clapping her hands together, but more and more slowly as time goes on, like she’s getting closer to sleep. Tony had a blanket in his car, for some reason he figures was probably related to Peter, and Peter’s got her sitting on it, ready to wrap her up once she starts to fade. 

 “People should trust you more,” Peter says, already taking her off the table and bundling her up against him. “I mean. I did. I do. And May did too. Does.”

 Tony smiles warmly at him. “Your aunt doesn’t trust me at all, kid.”

 “That’s not true,” Peter insists. “She does. She always has. Trust me, Iron Man was always my favorite growing up and May, uh—would not have encouraged that if she didn’t like you or trust you. She’s just—she’s got a hard exterior. But she’s gooey on the inside.”

 Tony snorts. “Well, there are some things I can’t do, I guess. I have ways to track people and find things but babies are harder. They can’t tell us anything. So we’ve just gotta go the tried and true route and let the cops figure things out. That’s what you would have done if you didn’t know me, right? And this happened? Call the cops?”

 “Yeah,” Peter says, tentatively, but Tony is almost positive he might have tried to figure shit out himself, if he was still Spider-Man in this scenario. Peter sighs, and rocks the baby a bit, awkwardly but gently at the same time. “I guess a lot of people just like superheroes when they need them,” he says. “Which sucks.”

 “Yep,” Tony says. “But it’s fine, you know? We do what we can.”

 “I’m glad you’re here,” Peter says. The baby still stares up at him, her small hands squeezing the blanket, but she looks close to falling asleep.

 “Even if I couldn’t do much?” Tony asks, leaning on the table.

 “You just make me feel safer,” Peter says, chewing on his lower lip and not looking at him. “You always have, so. You probably always will.”

 It’s just about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him, and Tony clears his throat, wishing and wishing and wishing he could be anything like the man this kid thinks he is. He wishes he could move buildings for him, and read babies’ minds. Maybe then he’d be worth something.

 Before Tony can let out a very-choked up snarky remark, the baby’s face crumbles and she starts crying. 

 “Oh no,” Peter says. “Uh oh.” He adjusts the baby a little bit and looks up at Tony with wild eyes, in a panic. “Uh, uh, she hasn’t cried yet. I don’t know what to do with the crying.”

 Tony clears his throat and scoots closer, and it sounds like her wails are bouncing off the walls, getting louder and louder. 

 He flashes back to times past. To a gentle hand running through his hair, and her smile hovering above him as she sang. She did it for as long as he can remember, even when he didn’t want her to anymore because he was too old. Now he misses it. And he misses her. His heart aches for when she was here, and for all the love she gave him. With every look and every word.

 Tony wants to be just like his mother.

 He leans in close and nearly bumps heads with Peter as they both look down at the baby. Then he starts to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, oh please don’t take my sunshine away.”

 She quiets down and Tony goes through it one more time, and when he finishes she’s quiet again, cooing, reaching up and grabbing at his goatee. 

 “Well, that was nice,” Peter says, grinning.

 Then the door slams open.

 “Oh my God!” a woman says, rushing into the room with two officers. “Oh my God, that’s my Angelica, yes, that’s her.”

 Peter immediately gets protective, like he isn’t sure she’s telling the truth, and Tony stands up, his hand on the back of the kid’s chair. He looks at the cops. “Uh—”

 “We confirmed everything,” Officer Ryan says. 

 Then the baby sees her and perks up, reaching her hands out, writhing in Peter’s arms. “Mama! Mama!” 

 “Oh, okay,” Peter says. “Well, that’s what I really needed.”

 “My father was watching her but he fell asleep, and when he woke up she was gone, she was gone by the time I got home,” she says, shaking. “I have no idea. I have no idea, but God, thank you, both of you—oh my God, wait, you’re—you’re Tony Stark—”

 Peter hands the baby over to her, and he looks down at his feet. 

 “It was Spider-Man, that found her,” Tony says, nodding. “Handed her over to us, had to go—stop a mugging he heard a couple streets down.”

 “That’s amazing,” the mother says, already pressing kisses to her baby’s cheeks. “Tell him thank you, too. I owe him. I do, I’ll track him down, pay him back somehow.”

 “He doesn’t need that,” Peter says, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s—I’m sure he’s just happy that the baby—that Angelica is safe.”

 “Well, I’ll track him down anyway,” the mother says. Her hair is the exact same color as the baby’s, and he can see their resemblance in their faces, too. “And buy him a pizza. Two pizzas! Three or four!”

 “He’ll like that,” Tony says, grinning, trying not to look at Peter.

 The baby twists around in her mother’s arms, and beams at Peter, smiling wide. Peter smiles back, and waves, and looks a bit like he’s sad to see her go.

 ~

 The kid starts to fall asleep in the car on the way back to his apartment, and Tony sighs to himself, catching sight of the time. Almost four in the morning.

 “Sorry I kept you out so late,” Peter says, curling up with the blanket they were using for the baby. “I just…you know.”

 “It’s fine,” Tony says, wiping at his eyes. “I’ve got a couple meetings tomorrow I didn’t want to attend, and now I have a real excuse.”

 Peter yawns big, his eyes getting droopy. 

 “Go to bed, sunshine,” Tony laughs. “So I don’t have to carry you upstairs when we get there. You’re too heavy.”

 Peter hums. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine—”

 Tony shakes his head, smiling a little bit. “—you make me happy, when skies are grey—”

 “—you’ll never know, dear—”

 “—how much I love you—”

 “Oh please don’t take my sunshine away…I love that song…” Peter practically falls into a snore, and Tony reaches over, making sure his seatbelt is buckled tight. 

 “Night, night, Spidey,” Tony says, ruffling Peter’s hair as he drives off through the green light.

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 4-1 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4 – Heart’s Fire: 4-1 / 4-3 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-8 / 4-9 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-15 / 4-17 / 4-18

I originally did not translate this part when translating Chapter 4, but for the sake of completion, I’m putting this here now! I am also planning to go through the rest of the Ch.4 translation to revise and check it again, in coming days.

--

Café

While I was sorting out Gong Cheng’s experiment notes with Zuo Ran, I suddenly received a call from Lu Jinghe.

--

[Flashback]

Lu Jinghe: Hey, you busy right now? Could you come out for a bit? I’m right at the café downstairs from your law firm.

MC: What is it that’s this urgent?

Lu Jinghe: I’d like to entrust you with a case, and I can’t talk about it clearly over phone. Otherwise, I wouldn’t specially come over.

Lu Jinghe: Have I impeded your work? My apologies, if it really isn’t convenient, could I meet up with you after work tonight?

Lu Jinghe: Taking up your rest time doesn’t seem to be that good either, but I…

What would trouble Lu Jinghe to this extent? My curious heart was hooked on by him.

MC: I’ve got time right now. Wait for me for a bit – I’ll go let Lawyer Zuo know.

Hearing that Lu Jinghe was looking for me, Zuo Ran furrowed his eyebrows, but he didn’t hold me back.

I hurriedly cleaned up and rushed straight to the café downstairs.

As soon as I came in, I heard the sound of Lu Jinghe’s fingers snapping. He was sitting at a booth by the window, waving at me.

MC: Since this thing has made you so anxious, could it be that you’ve noticed a clue about that fake Artist Z?

After the case where Lu Jinghe was framed for murder, he and I went to see an art exhibition again, yet we unexpectedly encountered an Artist Z counterfeit case.

To artist Lu Jinghe, the nature of this case was extremely vile. We recently have been looking for related clues nonstop, but there were no developments for now.

Lu Jinghe: It’s not related to Artist Z. What’s up, have you been concerned about that case the whole time?

Lu Jinghe: Thank you, I hope it didn’t add extra burdens onto you.

Without silver-tongued smooth talking or playful teasing, Lu Jinghe actually thanked me in complete earnestness?!

MC: You’re a bit different from usual today – exactly what issue did you run into?

Lu Jinghe: Have you heard of the person named Huang Haochu?

MC: Is it that famous appraiser and Leinster Auction House’s partner, Huang Haochu?

Lu Jinghe: Right, that’s him. He counts as the one who enlightened me on the path of art, and I’ve always respected him deeply.

MC: But I remember that last year, Huang Haochu… was murdered?

Lu Jinghe: Yes, Teacher Huang is no longer here.

Lu Jinghe: Last year, a scandal on Leinster counterfeited auction goods was exposed, and public opinion pointed towards Teacher Huang as the one behind it.

Lu Jinghe: The media claimed that Cui Yuan, Leinster’s boss, got into conflict with Teacher Huang due to accountability questions about the counterfeit case.

Lu Jinghe: In their fight, Cui Yuan used his own tie to suffocate Teacher Huang to death.

The alleged counterfeit goods scandal stated that, after a deal was reached on Leinster’s auctions, they would use fakes to replace the authentic goods, handing them to the purchasers.

The replaced authentic goods appeared on the artwork black market. Leinster sold them twice, exploiting this for large profit.

After this matter occurred, Leinster Auctions’ reputation took a nosedive, verging on bankruptcy.

Boss Cui Yuan found appraiser and partner Huang Haochu, requesting that he come forward and bear the responsibility, and to cut ties with the company, but he was rejected by Huang Haochu.

Due to this, the two fought, which led up to a murder.

MC: I saw a related report online, but my impression was… there still hasn’t been a judgement on this murder case?

Lu Jinghe: There is indeed no judgement. Plus, the true circumstances of the case is as different as can be from what the media reported.

Lu Jinghe: In their investigation, the police noticed that the police did not murder Huang Haochu maliciously. Instead, he assisted Teacher Huang, who had depression, commit suicide.

MC: Assisted suicide?! Does Cui Yuan not know that this is illegal?

Lu Jinghe: The police speculated that Teacher Huang had started considering death due to depression, to begin with.

Lu Jinghe: With Cui Yuan assisting his suicide, it would be perfect timing to use this tragedy to counter the unfavourable public opinions brought by the counterfeit auction goods, thus saving Leinster.

MC: These methods sound…

Lu Jinghe: Hah, I also don’t agree with the police’s conclusion. Plus, Cui Yuan himself has remained firm in not pleading guilty.

Lu Jinghe: After Cui Yuan was arrested, he said the whole time that he had nothing to do with Teacher Huang’s murder, and he knew nothing of the murder.

Lu Jinghe: He wants to plead innocence for himself, and has gone through several lawyers due to this, resulting in the repeated postponement of trial time.

Lu Jinghe: The day before yesterday, the court decided that a trial would be held for this case next Thursday, and they would not extend the time period again.

MC: It was probably the Public Prosecution that raised a lawsuit for this case. It couldn’t be that you’re looking for me to defend Cui Yuan?

Lu Jinghe: In name, you would be defending Cui Yuan, but in reality, I want to request you to help me find out Teacher Huang’s real murderer.

MC: Huh? You believe that Cui Yuan was not the murderer?

Lu Jinghe: No. To me, he is still one of this case’s suspects.

Lu Jinghe: It’s just that the emotional pain and guilt he’s displayed towards Teacher Huang doesn’t look at all like he’s putting on an act to be exonerated.

Lu Jinghe: I suspect that this case truly does have another, hidden story, and I can’t just sit and watch without doing anything.

MC: It’s already been nearly a year since this case, and few clues are left. Hopes of this case being reversed are very weak.

MC: Plus, it’s already Friday today, and there’s only five whole days of time. I’m afraid that there’s not enough time…

Lu Jinghe: I apologize, I know I’m troubling you…

Lu Jinghe: I also just found out about this inside info on the case. Otherwise, I wouldn’t think about investigating so long after the case happened.

Lu Jinghe: If the Lu family’s lawyers appear in this case, it would only hype up and feed into the media, and it would be incredibly unfavourable to the investigation. So…

MC: You’ve misunderstood, I’m not finding excuses to evade this. I just didn’t want to let you down. Plus, there are some things I must say upfront.

MC: If it’s just investigating the truth, of course there’s no problem. But I cannot lightly agree to being the defense lawyer, with regards to the suspect’s vital interests.

MC: I require that I meet with Cui Yuan first. Only after getting an understanding of the details of the case can I decide whether to defend him.

Lu Jinghe: We’ll do as you say. I’m already very grateful that you’re willing to try, and I naturally won’t make you accomplish anything.

MC: In a moment, I’ll go look up the files on this case to understand the details of the police’s investigation.

Lu Jinghe: Thank you for your hard work. I still ended up bringing trouble to you.

Lu Jinghe lowered his head and lifted the coffee cup, revealing a sliver of sadness as he spoke.

Lu Jinghe: People on the outside often think that the Pax Group is enormously powerful, and there is nothing that the heir to Pax can’t do.

Lu Jinghe: But it’s actually the exact opposite. I have a lot more instances of “no other alternatives” and “no way out” compared to typical people, due to my identity.

Lu Jinghe: Around me, the friends that I can speak truthfully with are very few.

Seeming like his own words induced some state of mind on him, he sank into silence, turning to look out the window.

The sun shone on his slim ears, and the gemstone studs reflected a dazzling light, but there was no way to disperse of the desolation in his appearance.

MC: Don’t you still have me? I’m your friend.

Lu Jinghe: Yes, I still have you. Good thing I have you.

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 06

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.9k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): Mentions of hybrid abuse, mention of murder, mentions of gambling.

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

05 06 07

The walk back to Taehyung’s cell was uneventful. I was scared Ella would be waiting for me around the corner, ready to scream at me all over again. Luckily though, she was nowhere to be seen.

Taehyung didn’t really say anything anymore about our talk, just silently walking in front of me. Some colleagues passing us gave me weird looks, as if they knew what had happened. Well, seeing your supervisor angrily stomp to her office might be a dead giveaway something went down.

“Taehyung?” Again, when he entered his cell, no words were spoken. He simply went to sit on the bed and stared at the ground, not even acknowledging my presence. Even now as I try to grab his attention, his gaze stays fixed on the grey coloured ground.

“You haven’t eaten a lot since you got here right? Wait, I’ll go get you something.” I turn around in the direction of the small kitchen, not really planning on waiting as I’m not expecting a response. My expectations aren’t met however.

“No need.” Short, but clearly stating his desires. Or rather, lack of desires. “I insist. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out you must be hungry.” I don’t look at him as I speak, still facing the destination only a few steps away.

“I know that talking about it must’ve reminded you of that time, brought up feelings you forgot about for a while. They were the past back when I rescued you of the street, and they’re still the past right now. Nothing changed.”

A memory of Taehyung scarfing down food because of my tears pop up. It causes a tiny smile to appear on my face, even though at the time it wasn’t the happiest moment. “Should I start crying again?”

It’s said as a joke, something to lighten the mood. A light chuckle coming from behind confirms it worked. “I won’t hesitate to call you a baby this time.” I can’t see him, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

We’ll be able to laugh at this in the future. Looks like that’s true.

“Hey, it’s a good thing to let out emotions, bottling them up causes stress and discomfort!” Putting my hands on my hips, I take on a defensive stand. The one where I defend my statement, not to fight, fortunately.

“Sure miss smarty pants. Go get me some of that delicious prison food.” If I wasn’t so relieved that he finally accepted to eat, I would’ve probably defended my cooking skills as well. Contrary to the others working here, I actually can cook without burning everything I touch. Now that is what I call an achievement.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Ella, I need to speak with you.” A familiar voice pushes its way through the door. One that I haven’t exactly missed, but looked forward to hearing from nonetheless.

She’s direct, rough sounding. The normal politeness her words usually contain gone, most likely together with her respect for me. Not that she can show it, as I still hold all the cards, though it sure would be fun to see her try.

Whether her directness was born out of her growing disdain towards me, or out of the confidence she built knowing the answers to my questions is unknown to me. I don’t really care, it doesn’t matter with the position I’m in.

The position I got by being harsh and unforgiving. Throw your sympathy out of the window, just focus on whatever you need to find out. The way you do so is unimportant as long as you succeed. It’s the exact attitude she screamed at me for. The exact attitude she’s giving me right now. Perhaps she is more useful to me than I thought.

“Do come in.”

With no hesitation the door opens and she steps into the room. Her expression is different from the typical kind determined face she wears around the office. The kindness has gone, replaced by something else.

I’m curious as to what she will tell me. Will I be left disappointed? I didn’t count the option that she might just come beg me to keep her. Reckless of me.

“I found the guy.”

Disappointed I am not. Then this is most likely jealousy. Jealousy for the way she found what I failed to acquire myself. Though that’s just half of it. The other part is joy.

“Now this is interesting, tell me about it.”

She nonchalantly throws the device she had been holding at me, the recorder I left in the room with the hybrid the other day. First, my sad attempt, and second her who effortlessly got what I couldn’t. “You can take a listen at that after we’re done, it contains all you need to know.”

That I will do, but I don’t say it out loud. Simply nodding, I motion for her to go on. Just get straight to the point, I’m not satisfied until he is behind bars.

“The guy’s name is Lee Ji-hyun, who, according to Taehyung, is a popular gambler. Presumably that’s the way he got enough money for a tiger hybrid. Found his name on a few gambling websites, completely unlawful if I may add, which confirms that.”

Not only did she find him, she also figured out that wherever he went for his money, the places aren’t supposed to be there. I never asked her for any more than that guy’s name, and instead of one, she brought me two cases to work on, one easier than the other. I’ll worry about the easy one later.

“According to our records he got arrested for drug use a few years back, but got released due to too little evidence.” That makes things easier. At least we already know something about him from the investigation back then, we won’t have to start from square one.

“Great work, I’m impressed.” Praise encourages people to work hard, makes them even more useful to me. Why figure things out myself, when I can boss others around to find it out for me?

“I need access to the World Hybrid Register and a search warrant. I don’t just want to catch him for murder. The signs of hybrid abuse, hybrid dealing, illegal gambling and drug use are also there.”

Again, as direct as she can be. She isn’t asking me, neither is she ordering me. Stating what she needs with the underlying expectation she’ll get it. Normally that would give her a one way ticket out of this place. Normally.

“Sure.” The determined face she was wearing crumbles into a look of shock. The underlying expectation I thought I heard had been completely faked, and I fell for it.

“Wait, really? Just like that?” She seems happy. Everything about her posture exuded confidence when she walked in here. Now I’m beginning to think the entire thing was one big act. One that she played perfectly.

“Yeah. I’ll make sure to get you whatever you need. I trust you know what you’re doing?” It must be apparent how I’m nice when you do as I say, not so nice when you go against me. Apparently a great leader listens to those lower in the ranks, however my superiority complex holds me from doing so.

“Always.” It’s back. The sweet smile playing on her face brings back the kindness she walks around with. The one I thought was her weakness. For once, I was wrong.

“Great. Go send me the details over email, I have stuff to do.” My sentence ends in a sigh, not feeling like going back to the old boring work I was busying myself with before her arrival. Whether I like it or not, I have to. There are still people holding power over me, I can’t decide entirely on my own.

“Of course.” With that she excitedly bounces out my private room. A type of excited I don’t show, but definitely feel.

Let’s see what you’re capable of Y/N.

It wasn’t even 24 hours after the talk with my supervisor that I got an email inviting me to the World Hybrid Registration Centre headquarters. The organization has offices al around the world, keeping tabs on who all own a hybrid, who aren’t allowed to own one, who has had a warning before, etc. They basically just make sure the hybrids are treated well and kept healthy.

I’m not exactly surprised they’re okay with my checking the system, as this is just as much their concern as it is ours, but I am surprised at the speed in which they replied. Known to be extremely busy since the hybrid owning trend blew up, a reply is usually days to weeks after the first email has been sent. Even for the police it can take a couple of days for them to come back to you.

Immediately after I’ve completely read the email I shut down my computer and pack my bag with whatever I may need. I don’t tell any of my colleagues that I’m going, as I know at least one of them will offer to come with me. There is no need for anyone else though, I prefer to go on my own.

The address is way out in another town, causing a two hour drive I’m not looking forward to. Reminding myself of the poor hybrid back at our office and the extra money I’m getting paid, I gain the necessary encouragement for the long trip. At least I’m doing this for someone.

The parking lot is completely full when I arrive. Expensive Tesla’s and huge Mercedes’ litter the place as if the pay is ten times higher than mine. If I would take a second to think it would seem logical, since even the cheapest of hybrids are still mad expensive, and part of that money goes to the people registering everything. Besides that there’s also the hybrid tax, of which, again, a part goes to these workers.

Stepping out of my extremely out of place looking car, I make sure I properly lock the door before walking inside the building. It’s not hard to find the front desk, with it being the first thing you come across after having been blown in the face by the warm air coming from inside.

“Ah, Y/F/N Y/L/N, thank you for coming on such a short notice. I’m sorry it had to be on the same day, we didn’t have any more room for appointments until next month.” The rather old looking lady behind the desk smiles my way with an apologetic look on her face.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m actually glad I was able to visit this fast.” The lady nods and takes off her glasses after typing something into her computer. “It’s our pleasure. We too got really concerned after we heard about the multiple offences.”

There is a hint of sadness to be heard in her voice. Coming across hybrid owners is quite rare where I live, as nobody has the funds to do so. Most people will just curse at the rich and despise anything that has to do with them, including hybrids. Seeing someone who truly cares about them is a nice change.

“You personally wanted to check the information we had on this hybrid mentioned in the email, correct?” The lady, who stood up from her chair a few seconds ago, rounds the desk to stand in front of me. In her hand she holds a card attached to a string that goes round in a loop.

“Yeah that’s right. It’s suspected the hybrid has been neglected, so we just want to know the origin of the hybrid, when it has last had a check-up, things like that. I just need a copy after that and then I’ll be on my way.”

Not knowing whether I could fully trust all the workers here on giving me the right information, I decided to come check everything out myself. It’s said that even here not everyone fully supports hybrids, with the worst stories claiming some are even trying to bring the organization down from inside.

The registration centre has tried to calm the accusations down by stating they check all the workers regularly on their hybrid views in extensive programs, but this was never verified by any other source other than themselves.

“Great! This pass will give you authorization to any room you may wish to enter and on the back is a code to access any systems. One of my colleagues will be with you at all times, but in case you wish to enter places yourself you can use this.”

With one of her hands she beckons me to crouch down to her level. When I do, she carefully places the string around my neck and makes sure it isn’t cutting into my skin, before pushing me to stand back up again.

“Eun-ji! Can you escort this lovely lady around please?” The newfound nickname startles me, not having expected something like that. She clearly doesn’t seem to notice though, keeping herself busy with making sure Eun-ji knows all the details of her upcoming job.

The place is a lot more confusing inside than it looks from the outside. Long hallways with doors to rooms everywhere, stairs in spots you wouldn’t expect them to be and dead-ends in places I was sure looped around in circles. If it wasn’t for my nervous guide, I would’ve definitely already been lost.

“And here we have one of the registration rooms. We fill in all our paper work into the system and make sure everything is updated, although most information just comes in digital nowadays, so all the binders placed in the corner don’t really have a function anymore.”

The room just consists of a bunch of computers with huge monitors screwed to the walls. Right now there is absolutely no one here except for the two of us, but a few of the monitors are still turned on. What a waste of electricity.

“Would you mind if I search the system now?” I already have permission to do so, though my kind nature refuses to just start typing without a heads up. “Of course, that’s what you’re here for after all.” Eun-ji lets out an awkward giggle while fiddling with her fingers. She’s clearly uncomfortable, even though she does her best to hide it.

I don’t waste a second, immediately sitting down behind one of the computers. The system isn’t too hard to navigate, the simple search bar being the only tool I need.

Name owner: Jihyun Lee

Name hybrid: Taehyung…

“Is it needed to fill in everything? I don’t know the hybrid’s last name…” I mentally slap myself in the face for never having asked his full name. Even his file back at the office just has his first name, and nobody ever questioned it. Perhaps we all just assumed he didn’t have one.

“Just fill in whatever you do know. Most hybrids take on the last name of the owner though so you could try that.” In the little time I’ve been staring at a screen, Eun-ji has made it her mission to put as much space between me and her as possible, pretending to be busy doing something at the other side of the room.

Name owner(s): Jihyun Lee

Gender owner(s): Male

Name hybrid: Taehyung Lee

Gender hybrid: Male

Hybrid animal: Tiger

That’s how far I can fill it in. The following bars needing a hybrid type, hybrid identification code, adoption centre, all clog my brain with question marks. The little information I can fill in reminds me of how there is not much I actually know about Taehyung.

Realizing there is nothing else that I can do, I click the search button and wait for the results to come up.

Nothing.

Huge letters on the screen apologize to me, suggesting that I may have made a mistake in whatever information I gave. A breath of air escapes my lips as I sigh and delete Taehyung’s last name.

Still nothing.

“Could it be that I’m doing something wrong? No results are showing up.” Going back to the main screen I try to figure out if perhaps I used the wrong tool, but nothing suggests that I have.

“Okay wait, let me see.” Eun-ji hesitantly comes closer when I stand up from the chair, only sitting down when I’ve moved back a few steps. “What’s the name of the guy?”

“Lee Ji-hyun, or well it’s first name, last name right? Then Ji-hyun Lee. Wait, should I have used a hyphen?” While I’m still trying to come up with what I may have done wrong, Eun-ji quickly brings up a list of people.

“There are a few males with that name owning a hybrid around the world, though since we know he lives here we can narrow it down to one country. What type of hybrid is it?” She doesn’t look at me as she asks, though as soon as I answer her head slowly turns my way.

“You’re sure it’s not just a striped house cat? Or, I don’t know, another predator hybrid instead?” Disbelief is written all across her face. The nervous look she has been wearing got replaced by furrowed brows, obviously going down a list of animals that may look similar.

“Yeah I’m sure. They’re not forbidden right? I would’ve known.” I can’t understand the confusion written across her face. Sure wild animal hybrids are expensive, but that doesn’t mean nobody owns them.

“No not forbidden, I mean they’re hard to come across sure, but…” Eun-ji’s hesitance is making me nervous, something is off. Something that I’m definitely not going to like.

“Miss, this hybrid doesn’t exist.”

Taglist

@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b @littlewolfieposts @nellaphine @daisychwe @deathkat657 @elenaramos1