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pxrxcxa · 2 years ago

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Opposite Ends

Chapter Five - Brown Eyes & Too Much Weed

C1 | C2 | C3 | C4 | C6 | C7 | C8 | C9 | C10 | C11 | C12 | C13 pt1 | C13 pt 2 |

Chapter Six is out now, enjoy Sunflowers x 🌻

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+. Steve x Robin x Female reader platonic friendship

Series summary | Dustins older sister got brought into the group during the events of Starcourt mall, 3 months on she's in her senior year and the kids are starting high school. After everything that went down she feels that she has to keep them safe at all costs, that includes keeping them way from the charismatic 'freak' Eddie Munson that runs a club based on their favourite game. They've both hated each other since freshman year -with good reason-, but when keeping distance between the kids and Eddie means putting herself in the firing line, boundaries get blurred, intentions get lost & the heart speaks louder than the brain.

The story is told from both Y/N & Eddies point of view.

What to expect | Slow burn enemies to lovers, Angst - with a happy ending, fluff & smut (in the later chapters). 18+ to read this story.

Series Warnings | Mentions of abuse, drug use, 18+ smut content

Chapter word count | 6.2 K Word Count.

Chapter warnings | Mention of Drug use, mention of masturbation.

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

Authors Note | As always, if you read the entire chapter then thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! I was wrong when I said the last chapter was the favourite, this is definitely sitting at number one right now. Those of you that are looking forward to the saucier chapters, stay tuned for chapter six, I have a treat for you. Love you Sunflowers 🌻 P. x

Y/N | October 1985

The terror filled scream frozen on my lips, ripped me from the depths of sleep. I clutched the damp tangled sheets around me as I gasped for air, my racing heartbeat pounding in my ears. I squinted across the dark room to the alarm clock on my dresser, the luminous face read ‘04.58’. Sinking back down onto the mattress, I pulled a sweaty strand of hair from my mouth as my breathing slowed to its normal pace. I had the opening weekend shift at Family video this morning. It was one of the few shifts that Steve, Robin and I were all working, given that it was a Saturday and our busiest hours. Over the past few months, working the weekend had become one of my favourite pastimes, keeping track with Robin over how many girls Steve struck out with, fighting over who got to pick the morning movie and challenging each other to stacking competitions. Steve would be here soon after daybreak, in his deep maroon BMW to pick me up. We carpooled together since Robin couldn’t drive.

Giving up on sleep entirely, knowing that it eluded me and there was no point in staring at my grey peeling ceiling for the next three hours, I rolled out of bed, the cold morning air hitting my exposed thighs and sending goosebumps up my whole figure. The thick carpet muted my footsteps as I made my way to my closet, pulling a dressing gown off the hanger. It was one of the only items of clothing that wasn’t currently decorating my floor. The house was dead silent except for Dustin’s soft snores echoing down the hallway. I peeked out my open door to watch his relaxed frame sprawled across his duvet, half sliding off of the bed. His Walkie Talkie was laying askew on the floor, next to his open twitching hand, like he had fallen asleep with it still clutched in his grasp. I tip toed quietly into his room to pick it up gently and place it upright on his desk, sliding down the antenna. Knowing that if the crackly voices of his friends shrieked though it, it would scare the living day lights out of him and cause him to topple right out of bed, waking up the whole neighbourhood with his profanities. I gently brushed his overgrown hair out of his eyes as his hot breath hit my hand, he looked so incredibly young in sleep, much like the baby-faced 11-year-old that would follow me and Nancy around as we laughed and ran away. My heart clenched painfully as I reflected on how complicated life was now, I had thought Dad leaving was the biggest curveball life would throw at us. God was I wrong.

Dustin had come to apologise to me after showing Eddie to the front door, by the time his incessant knocking had annoyed me enough to let him in, I was too buzzed to even care about the ordeal. He scrutinized me up and down concerningly, confused how I had gone from bat shit crazy to super mellowed out so fast as I spread across my floor. The fresh rain hammering against the half-opened window, washing away any lingering smell the weed had left in the air.

In the blatant rawness of the cold morning air, guilt washed over me as I remembered my behaviour last night. What had happened with Jason wasn’t Dustin’s fault, nor was it even Eddies. As unnatural as it felt to feel bad over my reaction to his presence in my room, the moment where we had been standing toe-to-toe, practically breathing in each other, hadn’t stopped replaying over in my head since I had shoved him through my bedroom door. He had even made a guest appearance in my dream last night, sitting on the end of my bed just watching me with those dark soulful eyes of his, making me feel very vulnerable as I burrowed beneath the flimsy sheets of my bed in just my underwear. Before my suffocating nightmare dragged me beneath its devastating depths, disallowing me to resurface for hours.

I silently left Dustin’s room, pulling his door behind me to submerge him in darkness, one of us deserved a sleep in at least. My feet slapped against the cold tiled floor of our one shared bathroom as I headed to splash my face, hopefully washing the remaining traces of my nightmare away with it. Remembering last night at the gas station, it took me a beat longer than necessary to look in the mirror. I sighed with relief as my own red ringed eyes stared back sadly at me, no black lines lurking anywhere on my face. I twisted the cold tap on, damping a washcloth to hold to my eyes in the pathetic hopes of diminishing the puffiness there.

Waves of nausea crippled my body and I curled over, grabbing the sides of the basin. I watched the whiteness of my knuckles increase as I tried to ride out the tell-tale signs of withdrawals. I knew it was only a matter of time before my debt caught up with me. Smoking left over old, stale joints wasn’t going to give me the relief I craved. I retched, like my body was sending me a message to give it what I owed. Flipping my head under the running tap to wash the sour taste from my mouth, I made my way back to my room.

Dread filled through me I walked over to my open window, in my groggy state last night I had forgotten to close it. Rain that had long since moved on leaving the sky a nice cloudless dark blue as dawn started to break, had soaked my entire side table. Great puddles of water had waterlogged the stained wood, sending my belongings off the side of the tabletop and -with a deep groan of realisation– filled my ashtray, soaking the left-over cigarette buts and joints.

Without pausing to second guess my decision, I picked it up and shook it outside, littering the ground below my windowsill and sending up a great cloud of ash. Covering my mouth with my hand I wretched the window shut, pulling open the top draw to hide the ashtray away. I stopped in my tracks; my hand still clutched to the handle. There, sitting above the mounting pile of empty bags, was a quarter bag full of glistening green bud. Slowly, I pulled it out of the draw, turning it over slightly to analyse it from every angle. The image of Eddie standing in this exact spot last night flashed in front of my eyes.

There’s no way. I objected to myself, considering all options as I opened the bag to sniff inside. It didn’t smell tampered with, only the stench of pure overpowering weed. I placed it back carefully, still convinced that this surely had to be a joke. I knew I hadn’t brought it because I only picked up in 50’s, I also hadn’t had the chance to talk to Steve yet. The only explanation was that Eddie had left it here, it wasn’t in his nature – hell, any drug dealers’ nature – to be kind. Which is what the gesture appeared to be, saving me the embarrassment of slinking to Eddie for help anytime soon, definitely hurting my pride in the process. With a bag this size I would be set for weeks. I let it fall through my fingertips and slammed the draw shut to remove the temptation out of my sight. I ran back to the bathroom, turning the shower’s hot tap on full blast, letting the steam saturate the room and drown the enticing smell out of my nose. There were strings attached to this gift, there had to be if Eddie was involved. I wanted no part of it - of him. I planned on throwing the bag straight at his smug face – along with a few carefully chosen colourful words - the next time I was alone with him.

I might have had an easier time convincing myself, if the thought of being alone in his intimidating presence didn’t send unfamiliar stabs of wanting through my core. I plunged my face under the boiling water to suffocate the unwelcome, intrusive thoughts.

Eddie | October 1985

Saturday started off like every other, my uncle was asleep soundly in his room, still dressed in his uniform from his shift last night. He seemed to have just fallen straight headfirst into bed on top of the covers and stayed there, turning his face to the side slightly so he didn’t choke. I strummed my sweet-sounding guitar, sending a low murmur throughout my room. I was half raised against the bed head, a cigarette dropping from the corner of my mouth as I hummed along with the tune. The sun was well and truly hung in the sky now, its unrelenting heat baring down through the window, burning patterns across my chest. I leaned across the jumble of sheets to put out my smoke, switching it for a freshly rolled joint, and pushed open the window, letting a cool breeze spill across my face and rifle the Tomb of Horrors posters pinned above my head . Strands of my knotted hair were plastered to my sweaty skin as I placed my sweetheart back in her rightful place on the wall behind my bed, stroking her lightly to hear one more seductive sound purr from her strings.

As I brought the nearly empty lighter to my lips my thoughts wandered to y/n, wondering if she had found the gift I’d left in her nightstand yet. Like I was a metal version of Santa clause, I laughed to myself. Knowing her, she had probably thought it was a cruel joke I was playing, since there was not a single nice thing I’d ever done for her before. Our relationship with each other consisted of loud frustrated sighs, violent thoughts and mutual detestation. Not conscientious actions towards each other. I still wasn’t sure why I had done it. It was a pretty sizeable chunk of change I had left in her possession. But before I knew it, as I stood in her room surrounded by pieces of herself, I had my hands in my pants at the thought of y/n, quicker than I could blink. Laughing outwardly as I made my way to the bathroom, I shook my head, dislodging some of my stuck curls.

Not like that. I corrected myself, although admittedly she had been the star of some of my wet dreams from time to time. That was all biological male stuff though, she was an extremely attractive girl, I couldn’t help which way my dick pointed. But then she’d open her mouth and my cock would become softer than her lips looked. When she had pressed her willowy frame against me last night, heat – warranted it was rage filled – was rolling off her with every breath she expelled, my dick had twitched as she brought her face closer to mine, the pressure struggling against the fabric of my jeans and for a wild moment, I had fantasised about crushing my lips against hers and acting out one of my many dreams. But, like how she ruined most things, her shrill voice had broken through my focus, causing rage to rise from my stomach to match hers.

I fumbled with my belt as I lined up with the toilet, unzipping my jeans to relieve myself. The sunlight drizzled through the coloured window paned glass, sending bizarre patterns across the linoleum floor. My head lolled to the side as I traced the outlines of objects that weren’t actually there in the pretty display of dancing lights. A blanket of peace settled over me as the weed kicked in, my thoughts drifting down the hall to the kitchen. I extinguished the joint in the ashtray balancing precariously on the bathroom vanity, just one of many that was scattered around our trailer. Stomping louder than I normally would have at this time of day, forgetting that my uncle was deep in slumber down the hall, I headed to the fridge. Trucker hats covered the walls of the living room, the collection had originally started off as a joke I made during one of the work trips with my Uncle Wayne. During school holidays I had no other family to watch after me so I would tag along, sleeping in the bed of his truck and soaking up the foreign views as we drove across country. I had passed comment on how many hats he had laying around in the bed of his truck. After that he would bring a new one back from every state he would visit for his job. When he started at the factory, we decided to hang them up as a sort of memorial to good times passed by.

Expired sauce bottles rattled in the side door as I wrenched the refrigerator open, goosebumps prickled on my skin as I stood in front of the door, spread wide for far too long, not processing what I was seeing. Apart from a jar of pickles that sat alone on the top shelf and mixed sauces squished on the side shelves, there was only a plate of something brown and mushy, I picked it up hesitantly and gave it an examination sniff. Not trusting myself while being high, I let it clatter back onto the bottom shelf, softly closing the fridge. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, it was around this time that I would normally be pulling into Gareth’s driveway, my guitar safely buckled into the passenger seat. We practised with the other members of Corroded Coffin every Saturday, except Gareth had some baby cousins christening that his mom was dragging him to, so this week’s rehearsal had been canned.

My eyes skimmed across the rickety bookshelf under our TV unit, hundreds of tapes sat there, most of them under a layer of years’ worth of dust. Movies were my babysitter growing up, whenever Uncle Wayne had to leave for some reason or another, he’d set me up with a mound of blankets on the contoured couch and turn a movie on, telling me he’d be back before it finished. He was never late.

I’d seen everything in our impressive collection at least twice. Well, I thought, No point in wasting a perfectly good day. I walked back to my bedroom, conscientiously aware to lighten my footsteps as I passed my uncle’s room. I could see dust particles swirling around my room as beams of sunlight shone through the window, it was stifling hot in here now. The thought of getting out of here was becoming more inviting the quicker my arm pits dampened, I grabbed a plain black tee instead of my usual hellfire shirt – not wanting to scare the villagers. Grinning to myself I swiped my vest hanging off my door handle, giving it a confirming shake to hear the rattle of my keys and headed to the van.

Outside the trailer I lit up another cigarette as the wire door snapped closed behind me, I puffed thick clouds of smoke into the humid air, covering my eyes against the glare of the bright sun as I adjusted to the sudden light. A dog across the way barked and whined as I watched Max Mayfield feed it scraps lovingly; her red hair was an intensive difference to her luminous -almost see through – pale skin, she stood out painfully against the dry grass. She must have sensed my eyes on her because she turned quickly to stare back at me, there were dark circles under her eyes like she had more trouble sleeping than I did. I half raised my hand in greeting, but she just scowled back disapprovingly, running back to her trailer across from mine, her oversized navy jumper flapping wildly. Everyone knew Max as the sister of one of the dead Hawkins Highs students.

A few weeks after her and her mom moved into the lot near ours, I noticed that Max seemed to be left alone a lot, apart from when y/n turned up at ungodly hours of the morning to drive her to school. I developed a distant habit of keeping an eye on Max, I knew what it was like to not have a lot of family and be alone more often than not. But it seemed after Y/n’s outburst in the cafeteria yesterday, Max’s opinion of me had dropped rapidly, not that I assumed it was ever glowing.

I flicked the butt of my smoke into neighbouring bushes and jumped from the porch, landing badly and staggering a bit before righting myself. I slid my vest over my t-shirt and swung up into the already unlocked van, switching the a/c on as soon as the engine spluttered to life. I blindly reversed out of our makeshift driveway, speeding off in the direction of the nearest video store, thinking that pizza and movies wasn’t a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon – hell, I might even really treat myself and plan some of the next Hellfire campaign later in the night as well. I beamed uncontrollably as I thought about Little Hendersons reaction to Vecna's return.

Y/N | October 1985

“And then Vicki laughed. And it wasn’t like a cheap, fake laugh either. It was like… It was a real, genuine laugh.” Robin chattered animatedly as she followed Steve around, practically stepping on the backs of his heels as he stacked returned movies back into their rightful place on the shelves.

“Of course.” He replied in a tone like something was obvious “It’s my Muppet joke. It’s hilarious.” I giggled childishly in my corner behind the counter at their banter. After Steve realised I was high out of my mind, he had grabbed my shoulders and steered me onto the stool behind the register. ‘If I found out who you got it off, I’m going to kill them.” Disappointment dripping from his tone, I had been slightly surprised he didn’t immediately assume I had acquired it from Eddie, but I guess since he was well aware of the disgust everyone assumed I held towards him, he thought I’d smoked with someone else.

Robin might have been dense in the best of situations, but after witnessing my exchange with the metal head in the cafeteria yesterday and my delusional state this morning, I was sure she had put two and two together. Thankfully she kept her big trap shut and didn’t clue Steve in, I didn’t need a classic momma Steve lecture about the dangers of smoking marijuana right now. Ironic since Steve had been the first to corrupt me. My willpower had crumbled as I got ready for work in front of my bedroom mirror, my side table reflecting in the corner of it, I swore it had an angelic light radiating it from it, beckoning me to come closer. I had never made it a habit to turn up to work stoned, but when the choice was between feeling a little buzzed or like I was going to throw my guts up every five minutes, I went with the former. I still had every intention of returning Eddies little ‘gift’ to him, since the bag was so big, I figured he wouldn’t notice a little nugget missing. I had, unfortunately overestimated myself and over-indulged quite a lot, in fact I had never been so high out of my mind.

I laughed loudly as I watched the little figurines dance across the tv screen mounted on a pillar in the middle of the store, noticing that one of the other two had already turned on our morning movie. Steve threw me a scornful look – with just a little bit of Platonical love residing in his eyes as well.

“My point is” Robin continued, ignoring me as I rocked back and forth softly, lost in my own world. “that Vicki laughed, and everything was just like… It was perfect.” Her words reflected a pleasant encounter, but her face was telling a different story.

“-But?” Steve questioned, probing Robin to further explain herself. He strolled into the next isle over, the stack of videos in his arms almost at his eye level. Robin handing him a new tape to replace each one he put away.

“But I’m having this problem, where it’s like I should stop talking, I have said everything I need to say. But then I get nervous, and the words keep spilling out, and it’s like my… my brain is moving faster than mouth… or … or rather my … my mouth is moving faster than my brain. And it’s like I’m digging this hole for myself, and I want to stop digging, I’m trying to stop, but I can’t. And I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?” Robin swung back to face Steve as he finished placing the last of the tapes away.

“Yes, you are.” He retorted kindly, crossing his arms. Robin sucked in a big breath and leant against a poster for a new movie, mimicking his body language.

“That sounds dangerous.” I called out between mouthfuls of red liquorice I snagged from an open packet on the counter, they both turned to look at me with mouths slightly opened.

“What?” Robin laughed; I pointed another liquorice stick in their direction.

“Your brain moving faster than your mouth. That sounds dangerous.” I munched on another bite of the lolly slowly. “You should really get that checked out.” Robin grinned awkwardly at me and Steve thew his hand up in the air irritatingly. I nodded at Robin wisely and turned back to my movie, abstinently fiddling with Steve’s carefully stacked tapes near the register.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with her.” Steve placed his hands back on his hips. “I am not babying her today; I have a date with Linda so I’m clocking off early.”

“Well, you are the babysitter.” Robin mumbled, turning away from Steve so he couldn’t see her smile, heading to the back room. Steve followed her, putting up a futile argument and waving his arms about madly.

I was too engrossed in the motions of my hands as I straightened the videos on the countertop, that I missed the sound of the store doorbell twinkling, signalling the arrival of another customer. I also overlooked the familiar sweet cologne invading the store. I didn’t look up from the desk until cold rough hands, with silver rings on each finger, placed themselves over mine, forcing them to be still. I looked up to meet Eddies dark eyes, his eyes always sparkled with untold secrets. My untold secrets. He cocked his head to the side like he was waiting for an answer to an unspoken question. He didn’t look much different outside of school, except his wasn’t repping his usual Hellfire shirt. It was odd, his club merch had become as much a part of him as his thick brown curls. I watched as a hand reached up to lightly tug on a ringlet of his hair, not releasing it was my own, I giggled as the softness of it tickled my fingers tips.

The afternoon sun broke through the clouds for a moment, streaming in through the window and sending beams to shimmer off of his face, his normally black-ish eyes shone brilliantly, and I could see that they were a deep brown. Like golden pots of honey, the gold specks in them glistening spectacularly. The word tumbled from my lips before I had a chance to stop it.

“Pretty…” I murmured, his curl still wrapped around my finger, he jolted slightly, causing it to fall from my hand.

Eddie leant over the counter a little further, staring deeper into my depth. His stretched shirt moved a little as he bent towards me, exposing a chest tattoo I didn’t know he had. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his naked torso, watching a light trail of hair disappear beneath his pant line.

“Are you okay y/n?” He asked forcefully, I got the impression it wasn’t the first time he had tried asking me. His brown eyes searched my face, looking for what, I couldn’t tell. I burst out laughing, rocking back on the three-legged stool almost toppling over. Eddie reached out reflectively, impressively quick, to steady me. He dropped his hand instantly as soon as he righted me. I pursed my lips to stifle another laugh.

“S’all good Edward, just a little high.” His eyes flashed with something, too quick for me to make out what, at the use of his full name. It had slipped past my lips accidently. I pressed my hands to cover my face, meeting his gaze through my spread fingers as I awaited to be reprimanded over it.

“Clearly.” He groaned, sounding just as disappointed as Steve. I didn’t know why he’d care; he was my goddamn dealer for heavens sake. “Just go easy on that stuff I left you, it’s strong.” He looked over my shoulder at something, picking up one of Steve’s tapes, turning over in his hands and examining it too closely. He’s waiting for a thankyou I realised. Well then, he was in for a rude shock.

‘Uh, yeah about that –“ I began, ready to unleash my very carefully rehearsed speech but he cut me off.

“Don’t worry about it, flattery works with me, so first one’s a freebee, should last you a while – as long as you don’t go as hard as you did this morning. Let me know when you need a refill.” He flashed a cheeky smile at me. I scoffed and looked at him like he was insane, but he wouldn’t meet my stare as he placed the movie back. Raised voices wafted over to us, effectively cutting off any response from me.

“Oh, hi there, sorry for the wait. What can I help you wi-“ Steve stopped in his tracks, ogling Eddie up and down. “What are you doing here Munson?” Steve came to stand between us protectively.

“I’m here to rent a movie Harrington.” He gestured widely around him, pointing at the masses of shelves holding every single movie released in the last twenty years. “Obviously.”

Steve looked down at me, examining my face as I refused to meet his observant eyes, knowing there was guilt plastered over my face.

He swerved back to Eddie, solving the puzzle now that he was seeing us in the same room. “Did you do this to her?” He bellowed. God bless Steve, he had never won a fight, well except for that time with the one Russian soldier, but he was still willing to get his ass kicked defending my honour. Robin bumped into a wall of snacks, breaking the tension with a loud crinkle of chips as she somehow managed to step on a pack. Eddie looked back at me once more, appraising me with his attentive eyes, complete uninterest embellishing his face. He ran his tongue wetly over his lips as I peeked up through my eyelashes at him.

“Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spun on his heels and headed towards the door, slightly shouldering Steve. Steve grunted and stared daggers at his back. Eddie paused at the door and threw me a stunning grin, putting all his teeth on display.

“Oh, by the way, I’ll see you at Hellfire y/n.” He laughed and swaggered out the glass door, setting off the bell again. I clicked my tongue as I felt both Robins and Steve’s heavy glares fall on me, shrinking away from the intensity of them.

“What the hell was the about?” Steve asked me accusingly, spreading his hands on the countertop. Robin raised her eyebrows behind him, seconding his question.

I feigned innocence. “No idea.” I shrugged, fiddling with the hem of my green work vest. Neither of them believed me.

“Freak.” Steve muttered, turning away from me. At that moment the door chimed again, emitting a group of giggling seniors I recognised from school and the attention was effectively off of me for the remainder of the shift. Steve made a beeline for the girls and Robin came to stand by to admire from a distance, I laughed along with her as quizzical expressions surrounded Steve as he repeated his Muppet joke, failing exceptionally.

Eddie | November 1985

Weeks had passed since I had driven Dustin and the others home for the first time from Hellfire club, the freshman fit into Hellfire like there were already perfectly moulded spots for them, eagerly awaiting their arrival. Life continued on as it usually did, with a few variations. Y/n attended all Hellfire meetings, shaping into to her own rightful position. She drove her brother and his friends to the campaign, sometimes she would leave if we were running extremely late and she had a test to study for, trusting me to return them safely to her. She rarely participated in DnD itself, she would say that she just wasn’t as interested in it as the rest of us, but the truth was she was just terribly bad at it, although she’d never admit it. I would catch her placing her book down and siting straight up to watch with unwavering eyes during a particularly exciting moment. She’d gone through seven books since the first meeting – I’d counted. My heart had nearly dropped into my stomach when I saw the battered copy of The Lord of the rings clutched at her side, thinking it was mine. But I dogeared my books and – as perfect y/n did – she had neatly tagged hers with colour coded sticky notes.

I couldn’t comprehend how she concentrated on reading with the noises our campaigns created. I would half mount the table frequently, stomping as I dramatically acted out the images my words painted. I had long gotten over her presence and her judgmental looks, she would quite often look up from whichever book engrossed her, at the sound of my voice and observe me for a few minutes. She thought she was sneaky, but I always sensed her eyes on me, sometimes I would purposefully meet her gaze so I could see the satisfying blush creep at her neck at the indignation of being caught. She still didn’t trust leaving Dustin alone with me, but her company didn’t interrupt the campaigns.

Only my concertation, I was always painfully aware of her, no matter where she sat in the room, I had gone to the lengths of supporting a rubber band and snapping it against my wrist whenever I got too distracted by her. The others had questioned my new fashion statement, but I had brushed them off saying I was trying to kick smoking. ‘It’s bad for business to consume one’s own supply’ I would say, laughing to convince them it wasn’t something serious.

Gareth and Jeff had cornered me at lunch over the apparent obvious tension between y/n and I. I had told them to shut their trap and mind their businesses, but they hadn’t been wrong. We hadn’t spoken once about her catching me in her bedroom or running into her at her job. At first, we just hadn’t been alone together and had the chance to speak. But then as the weeks passed by we seemed to develop an unspoken agreement to act like nothing occurred. I had once had the chance to catch up with her during school hours, about a week after running into her at her job. Principal Higgins had spent a good twenty minutes belittlingly me after he caught me smoking behind the bleachers, so I was running late to my next class. Y/n was alone at her locker, in the hallway I was passing by, fumbling with the code. I had hesitated on the edge of approaching her, something very close to - the fear of rejection – twisted in my stomach. I wasn’t sure how different her reaction to me would be outside of the Hellfire meetings. By the time I’d made my mind up to take the risk anyway, she’d skipped off to her next class.

With our little Hellfire routine settling comfortably into place, the dynamic of our relationship had slightly shifted, almost intangibly. We were by no means best friends, but no longer enemies either. Instead of throwing me death stares in calculus, y/n would shift her position slightly, always out of Mr Mundy’s sight, to expose her test answers to me. I would shoot her a grateful smile and she’d return an uncertain one. My same thoughts reflecting on her face. How did we get here?

My glance flickered over to her now, she was lounging across some spare cafeteria chairs and had her legs crossed and brought up to her chest, a nearby candle sending flickering shadows across her relaxed face as her tongue sat between her lips and she focused on her book.

I snapped the rubber band against my wrist painfully, looking back at the engaged faces of Hellfire.

“It’s Vecnas cult.” Mike yelled; Dustin banged the table anxiously with his fists, next to him.

“Time out, time out.” Jeff called, making a ‘T’ symbol with his hands. I grinned, knowing where this was going. The boys gathered in a circle, crossing their arms over each other’s shoulders and burrowed their heads close together. I brushed a patch of dust that had settled on my end of the table and pulled my hair back from my face, waiting for the team to come to their decision. Dustin’s voice carried over the others as they each fought for control of the decision.

“How many hit points do you guys have left.” A sodden murmur was his response, Dustin’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Crouching in my chair, I caressed my neck, trying to smooth the emerging fire from within. At first, I thought I had just over done it and was losing my voice, but now I suspected a head cold was on it's way. Suddenly wanting to end the game at the standpoint, I croaked out loudly than any of them.

“There is no shame in running.” Dustin, Lucas and Mike’s eyes all flashed to meet mine, surely remembering the first time they’d heard me say that. Y/n snapped her book shut, sending up the dust that covered the ledge behind her, into a smothering cloud. She coughed and waved her hand to clear the air.

“Come on, we have to go home anyway Dustin. Surely you guys can finish later?” She asked pleadingly, her eyes falling to my face for permission. I waved my hand absentmindedly.

“We’ll continue this at another time.” Hellfire’s outrage at my words was quickly overpowered by y/n’s tone.

“I have an exam bright and early tomorrow, and so does Eddie.” Her attitude was unrelenting and left no room for arguments. She threw me a look that said you better have studied. I gave her a quick low bow as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

My suspected head cold turned out to be the full-blown flu, rendering me bed bound for almost two weeks in our stifling hot trailer. My uncle had hesitated at my door every night before he left for work, asking what he could do to help but not wanting to catch it as well. I had smiled appreciatively, ensuring him it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

“Us Munson’s are hard to kill.” I whispered, sweat gleaming on my bare chest. He grinned at my tangent and left me to ride it out, leaving me a glass of water on my bedside, that I gulped down eagerly when I woke up in the early hours of the next morning.

By the time I had made it back to school, I had missed both Mr Mundy’s exam and the next Hellfire meeting. My chains rattled against my pant pocket as I made my way to my locker, my jacket and vest swinging with me as I jostled my arms back and forth. I groaned as the familiar sea of green jersey jackets came thundering down the packed hallway towards me. I refused to part to the side of the walkway.

“Freak.” One of the jocks yelled as I pushed through them, shouldering in between them as strong arms pushed back. Another day in paradise. I thought charmingly. I had only decided to stop into my locker briefly to grab some pain relief for the headache that was taking its sweet ass time to disappear, before meeting the rest of the Hellfire club for lunch. I had already mentally prepared myself for the onslaught of requests for tonight’s meeting. They were like addicts, one missed week of Hellfire and they were already feening, practically tackling me when they saw me in homeroom this morning. You’d think I’d died and come back to life with how happy they were to see me. As much as I liked to complain, I had to admit it was nice to know my presence would be missed if I did vanish. My locker opened up with a loud clang, the door slamming back against the neighbouring one. My lunch plans were quickly derailed as a torn piece of paper fluttered to the ground at my feet. I bent down quickly to pick it up before anyone could take notice. In the neatest, loopiest handwriting I had ever seen, was a message quickly scribbled on the crumpled paper.

Meet me in the woods at lunch.

Chapter Six

➢Eddie Tag list }

@dotslabyrinth

I hope you enjoyed the fifth chapter! If you would like to be added to my Eddie tag list, let me know! :)

#eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things s4 #stranger things #eddie fanfic #eddie smut #eddie x reader #eddie fluff #eddie x reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie x you #opposite ends

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Getting In Tune | Chris Evans x reader fluff

summary: taking house calls as a piano tuner doesn’t usually mean meeting hot guys… mostly just old ladies who offer you lemonade, which is great and all, but did not prepare you for an appointment to tune chris evans’ full grand.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, dirty jokes about pianos, allusions to nsfw things?? vaguely?, mostly just fluff and flirting and awkwardness

Checking that the address on your worksheet matched the one on the door in front of you, you reviewed the nature of the appointment as your boss had written out for you:

Customer: Christopher Evans

Appointment type: Warranty tuning and check-up

Arrival time: 10 a.m.

You checked your watch and saw that it was 9:58, but hopefully that wouldn’t bother him too much. Leaning forward, you knocked on the door and waited. You could hear a dog barking inside, running up to the other side of the door as someone unlocked the bolt and cracked it open, poking his head out while he held the dog back with his leg.

He seemed a little surprised to see you standing there, made even more apparent by the fact that he was obviously wearing pajamas— specifically, a baggy tank top and gingham flannel pants. A few tattoos were visible on his arms and collarbones, though you tried not to stare at them or anything.

“Did you not know you had an appointment today?” you asked him. When he didn’t answer, you tried to give a bit more of a prompting. “I’m here from Boston Steinway…?”

“Right, right,” he agreed, “uh, let me put the dog out, and… put on a shirt…”

“Good idea,” you suggested, “I’ll be here!”

He smiled at you one more time before shutting the door again, his footsteps shuffling away as you waited for his return. Thankfully it was a nice day out so you weren’t too cold in your work uniform (yes, you felt like a total dork having to wear a polo with a nametag on it, but such is the life of a piano tuner). When you heard the dog run into the backyard, and the sound of Chris coming back to open the door, you took a moment to straighten yourself in hopes of looking like you’d been waiting patiently.

“Come in please,” he offered as he opened the door one more time, wearing a navy sweater and jeans now (and a NASA ball cap, for whatever reason) and stepping aside to invite you in.

“I hope I didn’t scare you too much,” you smiled as you stepped past him, letting him shut the door behind you, “a lot of people forget when I’m supposed to show up, trust me.” You shuddered as you remembered those times you caught people in a lot worse than pajamas.

“No, I knew somebody was coming today, I just… wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off.

“A girl?” you finished for him with a smirk.

“I… yeah, I guess I wasn’t expecting a girl,” he laughed, looking a little embarrassed.

"Well, piano tuning is a real boy's club," you joked.

"Is it?" he asked sincerely.

"Um, no, not particularly."

"Oh."

After an awkward moment passed while you cringed internally at your failed joke, he finally guided you across the house to where the piano was; you set your toolbag down beside it, stepping back to admire the instrument. “It’s gorgeous,” you told him.

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled a little. “Yeah, she’s a beaut.”

“How long have you been playing?�� you asked. “Or are you one of those people who keeps it mostly for decoration.”

“Decoration?” he repeated incredulously. “Do people do that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “more often than not I end up doing cosmetic repairs instead of internal ones because families are basically using this as the most expensive object possible to put framed family photos on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, “I mean, I’m sure I’m not using this thing the way it deserves, cause I’m still not very good at it but… yeah, at least I play it a few times a week.”

“Good, it deserves that,” you agreed. “Mind if I…?”

“Oh, go ahead,” he prompted, stepping back and motioning for you to touch the piano. You didn’t sit down, just leaning over to do a quick scale up and back down. "Anyways, I think it's mostly fine but those higher notes are getting kinda squeaky…" he mumbled.

"Right,” you noted, messing around with the keys near the top to check what he’d said, “well, they do that, especially out here with these cold winters making the strings tighten up. Should be fixable."

“Great,” he smiled.

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s take a look at your guts,” you grinned, groaning a bit as you lifted the heavy lid to see the strings inside. "It's in great shape,” you observed aloud, “this can't be more than a few years old."

"Yeah, I got it pretty recently actually. It's never been tuned before."

"Oh, this is its first time?" you smirked, leaning in to whisper to the strings: "don't worry, I'll be gentle."

He blushed a little as he laughed, making you pretty sure your joke hadn't gone too far.

“You, uh, don’t have to be around for this part,” you informed him. “I mean, unless you want to, but it’ll just be me messing around in here for a few hours.

“No, I’ll give you some space,” he decided, “just let me know if you need anything. Do you want, like, water or something?”

“I’m fine, but thanks,” you dismissed, “just continue as if I wasn’t here.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna see that,” he disagreed, looking like he regretted saying it as soon as he finished his sentence. You felt your face warm and hoped he just meant that he’d be eating cheetos out of the bag in his underwear and not anything more… mature.

As he awkwardly shuffled away, you opened your toolbox and got to work. Your first task was to get a pitch reader so you could figure out how well-tuned each string was— you set that on the soundboard and got to work testing keys and reading the little digital display of your device. Once that told you how much work each key needed, it was easy to just put your tuning hammer on one pin at a time, loosening or tightening until the pitch was just right. You couldn’t just start at one side and tune all the way up to the other, oh no, there was a very specific ideal tuning order that you’d memorized by now: first the middle strings of the octaves from C3 to C5, then the one of each of the unison strings in the double bass section, then the middle strings from C5 to C8, then the lower single bass strings, then every left string of all the unisons from C3 to C8, then the rest of the double bass section, and finally all the right strings from C3 to C8.

Easy peasy, right?

It actually sort of would be, if you hadn’t gotten stuck on the unison bass string of E flat 3, your tuning hammer suddenly unable to turn even when you tried to brace yourself against the piano for some leverage.

"Um, Mr. Evans?" you called out.

"Yup!" he answered, swinging out from the entryway instantly— he must have been waiting just outside, which made you feel a little like you were being spied on.

"Would you maybe come over here and use your manly-man strength on this?"

"My what now?" he laughed, walking towards you.

"You know," you explained by flexing your biceps and making a sort of serious face; your charades version of what a muscular man looked like, apparently.

"Oh, I see," he nodded, "my—" and he repeated the charade, except it made your face warm and your eyes all but bulge out of your head. That was him jokingly flexing?! What did he look like when he was actually trying to show his muscles?

You tore yourself from that train of thought as he leaned over the edge of the piano, gripping the tuning hammer you'd left on the pin there.

"This one?" he asked.

"Yeah, just give it a little nudge counter-clockwise, please."

He did it like it was no trouble at all.

"You could've at least pretended it was difficult," you rolled your eyes.

"No, you loosened it up for me," he winked. WINKED. Was he trying to kill you or something? "Chris is fine," he said abruptly.

Chris is fine indeed, your brain supplied instantly. "I'm sorry?" you choked out aloud instead.

"You can call me Chris, I mean," he explained. "You called me Mr. Evans before."

"Oh, right," you nodded. "Chris. Thanks for your help with that, Chris."

"Sure thing," he smiled.

Just as the conversation began to lull, you could hear the dog whining and scratching at the back door, and you felt so guilty that he had been left outside. “You can let the dog back in, you know,” you suggested, “I don’t mind.”

“I shouldn’t,” he shook his head, “he’ll jump all over you and stuff…”

“No, really, it’s fine, I love dogs,” you assured him.

“Alright, just prepare yourself,” he chuckled a little as he slipped over to the back door to let the dog in. Running past his owner instantly and straight to you, you knelt down to let it lick your face as you laughed.

“Hi puppy!” you greeted. “Oh, thank you for the kisses, it’s nice to meet you!” He calmed down a bit when you scratched behind his ears, wiggling and putting his paws up on your knees. “What’s his name?” you asked, turning your attention to Chris who had his arms crossed and a prideful smile on his face.

“Dodger,” he informed you with a nod.

“Aw, hi Dodger,” you cooed at the pup, “I’d sit here and pet you all day, but your dad’s not paying me to play with you— apparently.”

Chris laughed a bit as you stood up, and Dodger actually took it pretty well, dashing to curl up on the nearest couch as you got back to work on the piano.

“I’m just about halfway done,” you informed him as you started to move on to the next string, occasionally plucking the string to test that the pitch was right.

“I’ve never heard a piano plucked before,” he observed, leaning in to watch you work.

“Yeah, probably better to just stick to hitting the keys,” you smirked.

“Psh, anybody can do that,” he scoffed, “you could invent a whole new genre of music!”

"I'll leave the musical experimentation to you," you decided, "and I'll stay on this side of the action board."

"See, I didn't even know that was a part of the piano," he admitted.

"And that's why you're on that side."

You two chatted while you worked— he asked some questions about you, you asked some questions about him, classic small talk sort of stuff. He managed to keep it interesting, though, and keep you laughing throughout the whole conversation. It was significantly more fun than you usually had during house calls like this, and instead of distracting you it actually seemed to help you keep your focus. It was easier to talk to him when you could keep your eyes on the strings anyways: looking right at him was sort of overwhelming.

With the last string adjusted, you slipped the tuning hammer into your back pocket and dusted off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work.

"That's it?" he asked as he stood up from the couch, noticing the signs of completion.

"It is if it sounds good!" you smiled. "Go ahead, take it for a spin," you suggested. "Play something and tell me if it sounds how you want."

"Okay," he nodded, slipping around the bench and sliding onto it. He took a breath before he placed his hands on the keys, but then suddenly stopped and set them back on his lap with a sigh as he turned to you. "Um, it's a little weird with you watching me."

"Oh, are you not used to performance?"

"Not outside of my family and friends and stuff, no."

"I don't really have to be here for this part, as long as you're happy with it then that's fine," you shrugged, "but you know, I wanna be able to fix any issues while I'm still here—"

"No, it’s not a big deal," he shook his head quickly, "I should get over myself. I guess it's just scary cause you've probably heard people a lot better than me play…"

"Don't worry about that," you laughed, "just play something, really, I won't judge."

He spun back to face the keys, placing his hands on them— for a second you wondered if he struggled to hit just one key at a time with those thick fingers, but you pushed that thought away quickly.

As he started to play, you found yourself focusing on the music more than the sound of the keys like you should've been. He was good, actually, although you could hear the hesitance in the way he played. He didn't rush as much as most people did, though; he was savoring the piece, one note at a time, and you let your eyes fall shut as he continued to play.

You broke from your trance when he suddenly stopped, repeating the phrase he'd just finished and stopping on the same note.

"Does this one sound kinda… off to you?" he asked.

"Um," you paused, "play it again?"

He poked the key with one finger a few times, and you frowned. "I can't really tell." You stepped forward and leaned over his shoulder, caging his body in accidentally as your arms wrapped around his shoulders to fiddle with the keys in front of him. You rested your knee on the bench beside his legs, not even realizing that it was a massive invasion of his personal space until you were already in it.

He moved his hands out of the way so you could repeat the phrase, and although you didn't hear anything wrong, you felt the key sticking.

"Oh," you mumbled to yourself, "it's the key, not the string."

"Can you fix it?" he asked looking up at you.

"Yeah, I—" you stopped in the middle of your word as you looked back at him because his face was really close, so close that his bright blue eyes were burning right through you; so close that you completely lost your train of thought. "I can fix anything," you finished softly.

"Great," he whispered back, eyes seeming to glance down to your lips quickly before moving back up to meet your gaze.

You cleared your throat as you stepped back, giving him space again as you nervously crossed your arms. "It's probably just something stuck under there or whatever, but I can order a replacement key if not."

"Right," he agreed with a nod, sliding to the side of the bench to give you room to fiddle with it. You grabbed your smaller toolkit and sat beside him, starting with your flashlight to see if there was anything hiding underneath there.

Moving to peer behind the action frame, you realized it was a problem with the hammer hitting the string— or, more specifically, with the mechanism that kept the hammer balanced. All you had to do was reach in with a long screwdriver and shift some parts around, and it seemed to be back in working order.

“Play it again?” you requested, and he slid back to the middle and started the piece over. He grinned when he reached the part he’d stopped at before, flying through the phrase without stopping.

“Hey! You fixed it!” he beamed.

“I’m a genius,” you shrugged, smirking a little. He stopped playing and you found yourself a little disappointed by that, unexpectedly. “Any other musical ailments I can magically cure for you today?”

“Unless you can make me a better sight reader, that’ll be all,” he smiled, standing up from the bench.

“Ah, if I could do that, I’d be using that power on myself.”

He shrugged; "Fair enough."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," you announced as you put the last of your tools away and picked up your bag. "Hope I didn't disrupt your day too much."

"You did, actually— in a good way," he grinned. "I definitely learned a lot more than I was going to just watching TV and drinking beer."

You followed him back to the front door, which he opened for you. "You can always give us a call if you need anything. Um, anything piano-related, that is. Tell the dog I said goodbye, okay?"

Chris smiled a little, softer than his normal expression. "I'll be sure he gets the message."

As you got back in your car, you took a minute to just catch your breath for the first time since you'd gotten here. Trying to be funny and cute and charming when all you wanna do is stutter and gawk and melt is exhausting! As enjoyable as it was, in a certain sense, you were relieved at the idea of returning to your routine— which typically did not include super hot dudes chatting you up at work.

“This must be a mistake,” you shook your head as you showed the work order form to your boss, “I was at this address two weeks ago, the piano’s in perfect condition.”

“Well, he has an unlimited warranty, so either something happened since you were there last, or you fucked something up when you were there last, or he’s just determined to get his money’s worth out of us,” she explained without looking up from her computer.

You sighed and left, heading back to the same address and hoping you weren’t about to get chewed out for somehow ruining Chris’ like-new piano.

Knocking on the door, you found yourself chewing your lip as you waited for him to answer the door. You were a little surprised when he answered in a button-up and slacks— entirely opposite to pajamas, although you sort of missed that get-up if you were being honest.

“Hey,” he greeted with a grin, stepping back to motion for you to come inside.

��Hi,” you responded awkwardly as you stepped past him. “Is... everything alright with the piano? I didn’t damage it, did I?”

He cleared his throat as he shut the door behind you, the size of the hallway forcing the two of you to stand slightly closer together than you would’ve personally preferred; it was hard to focus with him so close, sometimes. “No, no, it’s not that,” he answered, “the piano’s fine, I just…” he stammered a little, starting over. “Uh, there was something I wanted to ask you about last time, and I called the Steinway store but I couldn’t figure out how to call you specifically, so I just had to make a new tuning appointment.”

You furrowed your brow with confusion, not sure why someone else on the phone couldn’t answer whatever question he had, but decided to let him go through with his thought. “What did you wanna ask me?”

“Uh, I just wanted to ask you… out,” he finished plainly.

You paused as you processed that. “Out?”

“Like, I was wondering if you’d wanna… go out, with me.”

You hoped your face didn’t give away all of your shock, but at the same time, you figured it probably did.

He winced as you continued to stare at him in silence. “I’m kind of out on a limb here,” he reminded you.

“Right, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “um, I guess I’m just sort of surprised because you’re, like… hot, and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“Yeah, like… nice…” you explained.

“Hot and nice?” he laughed. “Slow down, you’ll give me an ego.”

You laughed, too, and less nervously than you expected. Feeling the rare urge to be spontaneous, you scratched your neck as you prepared to propose an idea. “Listen, so, this might be crazy but... I have another appointment today, at the Symphony Hall— it’s a final tune-up on the pianos and harps before this massive concerto thing and they always let me stay to watch the performance afterwards. If you came with me, I could get you in for free.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you probably have better things to do today—”

“I don’t,” he refuted.

“And if you just wanted to, like, get lunch some time then that would be great, I just thought I might as well invite you to hear the chamber orchestra from the best seat in the house,” you shrugged.

“The best seat?” he questioned incredulously. “And where is that?”

“The rafters,” you laughed.

And that was how you and Chris ended up sitting on the steel catwalk suspended on the ceiling of the Boston Symphony Hall, dangling your feet over the edge as the sounds of the concerto echoed out from the stage, over the silent audience and, finally, up to you two.

The music was incredible, if a little quiet from where you were listening, and so soothing that you felt compelled to close your eyes and focus on the sound. You were partial to the piano, as always, but the violins and cellos in harmony made your chest warm unexpectedly. Or maybe that was from the feeling of Chris’ gaze on you, as you opened your eyes to find him looking at your face rather than the performance below.

“What are you looking at me for?” you asked him with a nervous laugh.

“For fun,” he shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem very exciting,” you scoffed, looking back to the stage.

“Oh, it’s exciting,” he mumbled his reply as he returned his gaze to the performance as well.

Your cheeks burned when you heard that, in spite of the fact that it was actually a bit drafty in the auditorium. Even though your nerves were buzzing with anxiety, a rush of bravery struck you and suddenly you were leaning your head onto his shoulder. Just the warmth of him through his shirt— hell, even the smell of his cologne— somehow managed to relax you and energize you simultaneously. His hand gingerly slipping around your waist was even better.

After this many years of tuning pianos, it felt like you were getting yourself in tune for the first time.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff

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buckybarnesbingo · 3 years ago

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BBB Week 2 Roundup!

Thanks to everyone that participated in our party this past weekend! I hear there was a lot of work accomplished, which makes us all very happy.

Title: Best-in-law Creator(s): Holylulusworld Link: tumblr Square: C3 - Free Space (Pregnancy) Rating: Mature Ship(s): Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader Warnings: angst, pregnant reader, fluff, Major tags: Bucky Barnes, CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader Summary: It’s time to tell your parents about the baby. How will they react? Word count/format: 1,9 k

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Title: Home Again (Chapter 3) Creator(s): scottxlogan Link: ao3 Square: C1 - "Oh, hell no!" Rating: Mature Ship(s): Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark Warnings: Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, References to Depression, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Blood Loss Major tags: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, References to Depression, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Pre-Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Angst and Romance, Blood Loss, Adult Content, Explicit Language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Injury, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark Summary: Bucky shares a quiet meal with close friends before facing the idea of spending a quiet night alone with Alpine. However, it seems that the universe has other plans for Bucky as he finds himself face to face with an unexpected guest! Word count/format: 11383

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Title: The Witch and The Wolf: A Winterhawk Monster Hunters Tale Creator(s): Girl Back There Link: tumblr Square: Y2 - Clint Barton/Hawkeye Rating: Teen Ship(s): Bucky/Clint Warnings: None Major tags: Fairytale AU, Magic, Curses, Winterhawk Monster Hunters Summary: When they took the job, the task seemed simple for the amount they were going to get paid. Capture and bring the Scarlet Witch back alive to face her crimes against the village. But the longer Clint and Bucky searched for the Scarlet Witch, the more they called into question the stories of attacks on the villagers by a wolf she controlled. Word count/format: 506

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Title: I Need You Creator(s): ruckystarnes Link: tumblr Square: U5 - Call for Help Rating: Teen Ship(s): Bucky & F!Reader (not romantic) Warnings: domestic violence, abusive ex, bruises, fear, trapped, just angsty stuff Major tags: domestic violence, abusive ex, bruises, fear, trapped, just angsty stuff Summary: Y/N calls Bucky, begging for help and is locked in her bathroom, hiding from the monster that has tormented her for years. Word count/format: 1082

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Title: The Soldier's Play Thing Creator(s): Ruckystarnes Link: tumblr Square: C4 - Abducted Rating: Mature Ship(s): N/A Warnings: kidnapping, held captive, vomiting, drugged Major tags: kidnapping, held captive, vomiting, drugged Summary: Briony wakes up in what she though was her garage but really it was a makeshift cell. She doesn’t know how she got there, or who took her, but she knows that she has no chance of leaving. Word count/format: 1318

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Title: Sniper Nest Creator(s): nolanfa Link: tumblr Square: Y4 - Found Family Rating: Gen Ship(s): Bucky Barnes & Clint Barton Warnings: no warnings apply Major tags: sniper nest Summary: fanart for re: re: re: re: bad ideas you and clint barton have had , by lazulisong (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656269); sniper bros / enclosed places with good sightlines connoisseurs Bucky and Clint. Word count/format: picture (digital art, .jpg)

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Title: NERF snipers Creator(s): nolanfa Link: tumblr Square: U4 - Bold Rating: Gen Ship(s): Bucky&Clint Warnings: none apply Major tags: nerf guns Summary: art for lazulisong's fic re: re: re: re: bad ideas you and clint barton have had (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656269); Clint introduces Bucky to the joys of NERF guns. Word count/format: picture (digital art, .jpg)

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Title: Find a Home with You (Chapter 4) Creator(s): Faustess Link: ao3 Square: U1 - Shelter Rating: Teen Ship(s): Bucky & Tony; Stucky Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Major tags: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, De-aged Tony Stark, Angst with a Happy Ending, Summary: Whole fic summary: The Winter Soldier picks himself up off the floor after something happens during a mission (he's not sure what, exactly). With no memory of what his mission was or where he was supposed to go after it was complete, Soldat finds a boy and decides that protecting the child must be the reason he's there. Five-year old Tony Stark is having the time of his life with Soldat, but what happens when the Soldier gets the message to come back in from the cold? / Chapter Summary: The Winter Soldier settles into the Tower and the Avengers get some more good news. Word count/format: 1802 (chapter); 8563 (cumulative)

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Title: Hold Me. Creator(s): damage Link: ao3 Square: Y5 - Tony Stark/Iron Man Rating: Gen Ship(s): Bucky/Tony Warnings: None Major tags: Hugs, Established Relationship Summary: Bucky and Tony share a loving hug. Word count/format: Art

Title: The French Nurse Creator(s): Ruckystarnes Link: tumblr Square: U3 - What doesnt kill me makes me mad Rating: Teen Ship(s): N/a Warnings: N/a Major tags: Blood, injury Summary: Odette tendsnto an injured Bucky Word count/format: 1319

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Title: Surprises Come in Threes Creator(s): Caiti Link: ao3 Square: B1 - Tattoos Rating: Teen Ship(s): Pre-Bucky/Darcy/Clint/Natasha Warnings: Ficlet, Mood boards Major tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates Summary: As a tattoo artist, Darcy Lewis saw all kinds of people in her little shop . . . but these three were not her usual clientele. Word count/format: 766

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Title: the way you slam your body into mine [ reminds me I’m alive ] Creator(s): Circaclementine Link: ao3 Square: K4 - Kink: Body Worship Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Steve/Bucky Warnings: None Major tags: AU: No Powers, AU: Modern, First time, Oral Sex, Gentle Manhandling Summary: Without the layers of winter clothing between them, getting close felt different. Gone was the swish-swish of waterproof material bulking out Bucky’s sides over top of the knit layers, letting Steve slip his fingers beneath the fabric to heated skin. He earned a shiver from Bucky, his fingers clearly not as warm as he figured, but Bucky didn’t complain. If anything, the look on his face said he was glad just to feel the touch. For all the years they’d spent sharing restrained hugs, not holding each other the way they both wanted to, Steve figured they deserved every ounce of intimacy they could get. That meant sweeping Bucky off his feet once again instead of walking him backward to the dark bedroom. Word count/format: 9209

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Title: so happy, so warm [ it’s a fairy tale ] Creator(s): Circaclementine Link: ao3 Square: Y1 - Friends to Lovers Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Steve/Bucky Warnings: None Major tags: AU: No Powers, AU: Modern, First time, Friends to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent Summary: Bucky was sprawled out belly down, face turned away from Steve towards the wall. His breathing was deep and even, his body similarly uncovered like Steve had been, but his back was graced with those gentle rays of light. Steve wanted to trace them with a fingertip, feeling the soft skin where it was slightly warmed, watch goosebumps rise on his skin at the sensation. Steve kept from following through, unwilling—possibly unable—to disrupt Bucky’s rest. Word count/format: 4391

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Title: the splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube Creator(s): Circaclementine Link: ao3 Square: U2 - Bucky/Steve Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Steve/Bucky Warnings: None Major tags: AU: No Powers, AU: Modern, Anal Sex, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Body Worship Summary: Steve’s life had changed so dramatically in the span of 24 hours, and finding himself pressed against Bucky’s front in his bedroom was just another dream come true. The first night Bucky had been in his apartment, just in the other room, Steve had laid in bed wondering if this was just an outrageous fantasy. Word count/format: 7848

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Title: Royal Pain Chapter Five Creator(s): Ruckystarnes Link: tumblr Square: Y3 - Bodyguard Rating: Teen Ship(s): None Warnings: None Major tags: Brief nudity Summary: Constance receives a phone call from her sister. Word count/format: 2297

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Title: this is the moon. this is the sun [ let me name the stars for you ] Creator(s): Circaclementine Link: ao3 Square: B5 - "I regret nothing." Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Steve/Bucky Warnings: Mild Childhood Trauma (discussing memories), Implied Homophobia. Major tags: AU: No Powers, AU: Modern, Mild Childhood Trauma, Cuddling, Happily Ever After Summary: Long moments of comfortable silence settled over them as the moon rose slowly over Brooklyn, granting them a little visibility from the soft moonlight pouring in Steve’s half-open curtains. Neither of them had any idea what time it was, but their bodies told them it was bedtime when the sun had started its descent. They still had a few days left together so neither felt pressed to act, to perform so they could make the most of the moment. For them, lying tangled in each other was all they needed. Word count/format: 1817

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Title: Day 43: Cop vs. Cob Creator(s): Circaclementine Link: ao3 Square: U4 - Mission gone wrong Rating: Teen Ship(s): Steve & Bucky Warnings: Vague Discussion of Abusive Relationship. Major tags: AU: No Powers, AU: Cops, Enemies to Lovers, Comedy, Episodic Narrative, Aggressive Swan Behaviour Summary: After a rough revelation for Steve, he and Bucky are back at work, hoping to smooth things over. Phlegm Monster Bucky narrowly escapes a visit to the clinic, much to Steve's chagrin, when the boys in blue receive a call about a distressed animal invading a local establishment. Mission gone wrong. Word count/format: 5534

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Title: Modern Desire Creator(s): Valerin Link: ao3 Square: Y2 - Kate Bishop Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Kate Bishop/Bucky Barnes Warnings: Age difference Major tags: Age Difference, Online Dating, PWP Summary: Kate swipes on Tinder and matches with a mysterious James. They hit it off just as she's hunkering down with the infamous Winter Soldier. Word count/format: 7211

#buckybarnesbingo2022 #bbb2022 #bbb weekly roundup #bbb week 2 #bbb round four

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thedamageofherdays · 3 years ago

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My @buckybarnesbingo masterlist. Thank you to the mods for organising such a fun event. I had a great time creating all these works ❤

B1 (AU: No Powers) - Home is where the heart is - General - Bucky/Steve - Modern AU, AU: No Powers, Getting Together, Animals, Farming - Moodboard

B2 (Sam Wilson (Falcon)) - Stay - Teen - Bucky/Steve - Getting Together, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Grief, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Ice Skating, Referenced Character Deaths - Fic (3,2k words)

B3 (Changed into an animal) - The Hard Way Home - General - Bucky/Steve - Changed into an animal, canon Divergence, body swap, getting together, mutual pining, bucky barnes recovering - Moodboard

U1 (Soulmates) - fated. - General - Bucky/Steve - Soulmates, Getting Together, Fluff, Autumn - Moodboard

U5 (There Was Only One Bed) - Finding Home - Teen - Bucky/Steve - Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Getting Together, Strangers to Lovers, There Was Only One Bed, Parent Steve Rogers, Happy Ending, First Kiss, Cuddling - Fic (2,7k words)

C1 (Steve Rogers (Captain America)) - The Author - General - Bucky/Steve - Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Getting Together, Writer Bucky Barnes - Moodboard

C2 (Brock Rumlow) - Fighter - General - Bucky & Steve - Boxing, Boxer Bucky Barnes, Not Brock Rumlow Friendly, Rivalry - Moodboard

C3 (Free Space) - in the summer sun - General - Bucky/Steve - Summer Holiday, Established Relationship, Romance, Beach - Moodboard

C4 (Found Family) - Joy - General - Bucky/Steve - Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Love, Team as Family - Fic (436 words)

C5 (Transgender Character) - Nonbinary Bucky Barnes - General - No Ship - Nonbinary Bucky Barnes, Recovering Bucky Barnes - Moodboard

K3 (Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)) - United - General - Bucky & Wanda - Friendship, Recovery, Found Family - Moodboard

K4 (AU: Historical) - The Winter Knight - Teen - No Ship - Knight Bucky, Revenge, AU: Historical - Moodboard

Y4 (AU: Bucky Never Fell) - his home. - Teen - Bucky/Steve - Established Relationship, Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Never Fell, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending - Fic (632 words)

#bbb2021 #bbb masterlist #bucky barnes #stucky #my writing #r makes moodboards #r makes things #my moodboards #my masterlist

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lbibliophile-mcu · 3 years ago

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Bucky Barnes Bingo 2021 Masterpost - Blackout

@buckybarnesbingo

Another BBB blackout! Largely thanks to the excellent Discord party games, it turned out to be almost entirely drabbles this year, although many with an accompanying moodboard. Also two surprise short-fics (U4, K1, Y4). A fairly even split of fluff and angst.

Also on AO3 (Drabbles Assemble!)

#bbb2021 #masterpost #blackout #drabble #bingo fill

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running-ace21 · 2 years ago

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Upcoming Fics/Ficlets

First and foremost, I do apologize for the lack of content. I know a few weeks ago I said I would be updating more....let’s just say life has been throwing me a few challenges lately.

So, I think I’m pretty much in the clear now and actually have space in my brain and motivation to write again. I have to say a special thanks to to a fellow creator on this platform who sent me a message that helped reignite my spark for fic writing.

- Copia and the Clergy go on spring break

- Drunk Copia with a full belly

- Dew helping Copia deal with stress in the forms of food and physical pleasure

- Part 2 of Love (and bellies) Grow here

- Part 3 of Copia’s Confession

- Dew x Rain feeding/weight gain (prologue to Feast on You)

- C3 family fluff <3

- Terzo body worship

*If you guys have any requests, send them in. I appreciate you all very much and your kind words encourage me to keep writing.

#ask box #chubby copia #chubby terzo #ghost #copiiia #chubby copiiia #feeding kink #feeding copia #belly worship #belly kink #weight gain #terzo mpreg #c3 family fluff

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utilitycaster · 1 year ago

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honestly, the burgeoning ruidus plot really took the wind right out of the c3 characters' sails with respect to inter-party character development

and this has affected ships too. like, i'm sure given enough time and space, imogen and laudna's relationship could have been something more rather than the fluff we have now and same might even apply to other characters

wishful thinking, but i hope post-c3, whatever campaigns we get are a little more grounded and focused on exploring exandria, feel like there hasn't been enough of that

Hey anon,

I've said as much but while I agree that the structure of this campaign has worked against the party relationships, I think the issues I see with that particular relationship are tied to character creation and lack of discussion out of game because again, shorter and more tightly plotted campaigns and mini-series achieve more developed romances all the time.

I am also to be honest a little frustrated for two reasons. The first is that it felt like when I criticized the pacing of the campaign earlier on the broad response was "GIVE IT TIME" and "ugh not everything will be C2" and now, when I have made my peace with that and am enjoying what quieter moments we get and focusing on what this campaign is bringing (lore, culmination of longstanding plot) there is infinite whining about how this silly plot [the entire fucking point of this campaign] is getting in the way of characters talking. Like, we have actually had a number of good conversations and quieter scenes although I think it's been hard to get anything romantic; the back half of latest episode was a good example that allowed for those deeper conversations, and it's one of several openings lately, and like. If the players are feeling rushed and talked over, while they cannot stop the plot they are allowed to say that and say "hey we REALLY need a breather episode."

The second is that again I don't really get why people come in to try to give me the like...reasonable, moderate opinion, or defend a bad take on anon, because I tend to be very unwelcoming to it.

I do, fundamentally, think Imogen and Laudna's relationship is so weak because the players either didn't prep the backstory enough or are not conveying it, and I suspect it's the former. I gave multiple examples of miniseries or other character relationships; like, again to bring up C2 but the three pre-existing groups within that, of which two were really acquaintances (Fjord and Jester had only known each other a few weeks; Veth and Caleb were dependent on each other but had also only been together a few months and really knew very little about each other) felt more realized from episode 1. The Ring of Brass, the Circle of Needle and Thread, the family of stoats in the current D20 season or the Rocks family in A Crown of Candy, honestly the restaurateurs in the Elder Scrolls Blackwood three-shot are all groups that came in and made their relationships crystal clear and full within the first 4 hours of gameplay if not sooner; none of these groups were afforded more than a fraction of the hundreds of hours Imogen and Laudna have had, plot-heavy though those hours might be. If Imogen and Laudna had been recent roommates in Jrusar, then I think it would be fair to blame the pace of the plot at least in part in the lack of development of their relationship, but the fact is this is an exceptionally weak grounding that should have been in place before the first episode even began, and which could have been fixed after the fact by again, like two hours of intense discussion in a coffee shop. The campaign structure isn't helping; but it's not, in my opinion, the cause.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag

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taeken-my-heart · 5 years ago

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Read Between the Lines

Summary: Solving cases was what you’d signed up to do, but solving them with your academy crush turned partner was not on the agenda.

Pairing: Yoongix Reader

Genre: Detective!Yoongi x Detective!Reader. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, illusions to smut but nothing graphic.

Rating:PG15

Word Count: 18043

Warnings: TW:Death mention TW:Crime mention TW:Prostitution mention TW:Attempted Murder mention TW:Drug Addiction Mention. Nothing is described in great detail, but Yoongi and YN are detectives and this is typical of their line of work so there will be mention and talk of cases to do with these topics. I did research but I’m sure I still got details wrong, haha. This is all just for entertainment purposes.

YN is ethnically Greek but I’ve made an effort to not describe anything about her so she can still be reader insert. I thought about naming her, but decided it might be fun just to read as a reader insert instead.

You were craving Greek food, something with a lot of Kalamata olives. And feta; lots of feta. Maybe you were just craving salt. Your stomach grumbled as you stepped from the squad car, adjusting your belt and locking the door.

The interior of Mykonos diner was a bit grungy; run down with age and frequent foot traffic, mostly yours and your partners. Blue and white mimicking the streets of Santorini and heavy with 50 years’ worth of grime, but it was your favorite spot to go. It was family owned, after all.

Scanning the heads of the patrons, you spot Yoongi’s mop of dark hair in the corner booth, his neck stretched long as he craned over his paper work; oblivious to your entry. You made your way towards him, rounding the other side of the booth and sliding into the seat opposite him. He spares you a glance and a grunt as a greeting before returning to whatever he’s writing.

You scrunch your nose at the top of his head before glancing over at the kitchen where your aunt is working, back bent with years of effort. “You want your usual, anipsiá?” She calls and you smile, nodding.

“Thank you, theía!” Your gaze returns back to the restaurant. It wasn’t lunch yet so there weren’t very many people, but there was an old couple sitting in the center of the room at the old rickety table you’d run into when you were five while playing a heated game of tag with your cousins. They didn’t seem to mind the wobbly leg as they linked fingers across the table over Moussaka and some Dolmadakia.

Yoongi huffed in frustration, bringing your eyes back to him as he straightened in his seat, hand running down his face. He looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes from late nights and too much caffeine. His eyes drooped from exhaustion as he turned his gaze to yours, scratching at the light stubble on his chin.

“I just can’t figure it out.” He grumbled, reaching for his mug; presumably coffee, taking a long sip and smacking his lips together in satisfaction.

“Take a break,” you reprimanded. “You need a clear head before you can go back to it.” Yoongi looked like he wanted to argue, but he stopped himself, lips pursed. “Have you ordered?”

He shook his head, nodding down at his mug, “Just this. I was waiting for you.”

“How chivalrous.” You smirked and he chuckled.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself; I was distracted.” He flagged down your uncle to order keftedes with a side of fries.

“And two waters please, theíos. Light on the ice.” Yoongi gave you a look after your uncle had left and you shrugged.

“You don’t run on coffee, Yoongi, you need water too.”

“Coffee is made from water.” He grumbled.

“Ok, surly, so where are you on the house renovations?” You asked, slipping further into your seat and adjusting your holster; it was digging into your gut.

“It’s gonna be a while yet, but the walls are up now.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” You asked, “You’re gonna spend all your money on that hotel and I’ve got that extra bedroom. For free, Yoongi.”

“It’s cute that you want to spend all your time with me.” He smirked at you over the rim of his mug and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m thinking of your bank account.” You chuckled.

The bell at the door rang as another patron entered and you watched as she took the booth closest to the door before diverting your attention back to Yoongi. “Why can’t we find anything, Y/N?” He sulked and you sighed.

“It’s a cold case, Yoongi. It went cold for a reason. Don’t be so hard on yourself, we’re doing the best we can. We just need to look at it from a new angle.”

“They’ve been waiting for 10 years for answers, don’t you think they deserve our effort?” He grumbled and you frowned.

“Of course, but obsessing over it is clearly not helping. Take a step back and a deep breath. We’ll figure it out.”

“Every new lead always dries up or ends up being nothing. How can you stay so positive?”

“I’m as frustrated as you are, but we’ve worked on harder cases than this. We’ve got this.”

“Here you go. Do you want some portokalada, anipsiá?” Your uncle asked, sliding your plates onto the table and turning his gaze to you.

“No thank you, water is fine for me today.”

“When are you going to bring a man around to meet us? Your mama and theía want to know.”

You sighed, slumping further in your seat, “I bring a man around here all the time.” You grin, motioning at Yoongi who looked at you darkly and your uncle laughed.

“Yoongi doesn’t count. Unless he’s going to give you babies, he’s not important. No offence meant.” Your uncle said, inclining his head towards Yoongi who nodded.

“None taken.” Yoongi replied, taking a bite of one of his fries.

As if Yoongi needed to hear your uncle talk about the possibility of impregnating you. Mortification was a constant friend of yours in the presence of your family. “OK, thank you. We’ll talk about this later during family dinner.”

Your uncle chuckled, sauntering back to the kitchen and you glanced over at Yoongi, teeth gritting in discomfort. He was too concentrated on his food to notice your frown so you sighed, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of your own food.

“You don’t have to make it weird.” Yoongi said suddenly, and you looked up at him. He was still staring down at his food, forking it into his mouth as though he hadn’t spoken.

“My uncle made it weird, not me.” You replied nonchalantly and he shrugged.

“Semantics.”

You chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you love the idea of making me an honest woman.”

“It’s not the worst thing I could imagine.” He smirked. “Right up there with taming a bear; could be exciting.”

You laughed, kicking at his ankle under the table. “You’re an ass.”

After you’d both finished your lunch, you said goodbye to your family, walking out the door, Yoongi trailing behind you and walking to the passenger seat of your car. He radioed in a 10-8 as you started the car, pulling from the parking space and turning the car in the direction of the station.

“We’ve got a 10-35 at 387 W Simons St. Nearest officer, please respond.” Your radio crackled to life and Yoongi reached for his own, pressing the button on the side to talk.

“This is 96, we’re just a couple blocks away.”

“10-4, 96. Be advised this is a 10-33.”

“Copy that.”

You flipped on your lights and siren, driving in the direction of the address as it was listed back to you, stomach flipping uncomfortably.

“96, please be advised the suspect is not yet in custody.”

“10-4.” Yoongi replied.

Pulling into the apartment complex, you parked and stepped from the car, glancing up at the building in front of you. It was in a row of other apartment blocks, similar in color and worn with age. You followed Yoongi up the stairs to apartment C3, stepping into the living room through the open door. There were already a few officers and the forensics team strewn about the room, taking pictures or searching for evidence and you took a preemptive glance around the room for any information you’d need to remember.

“What’s the situation?” Yoongi asked, turning to one of the other officers, a older man from your unit who was taller and stockier than your partner.

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Woman in her early 20’s, beaten and left to die. Her mother found her when she was bringing the woman’s daughter back home from breakfast. She’s been transferred to the hospital in critical condition. Her mother is in the little girl’s bedroom with her currently. We suspect it was the child’s father and are searching for him.”

“Is there a reason for suspecting the father?” You asked as Yoongi surveyed the room, watching one of the officers search through drawers.

“There have been reports of domestic abuse in the past and he left a few threatening messages on her phone the last few days. The captain wants the two of you to man this case so you’d better do your interviews and take a look around while you’re here.”

You nodded before walking back to where Officer Tony pointed and knocking on the door to the furthest right, the white paint chipping in the corners. An officer opened from the inside and you stepped through, looking down at a woman, no older than 55 holding a little girl in her lap whose eyes were wide and blood shot as you stepped forward.

“Hello,” you smiled gently, going to kneel down in front of the both of them. “My name is Officer Y/N, I’m here to help your family.”

The woman looked down at you, her own smile strained and you could see her efforts not to cry in front of her grandchild.

“I know you’ve already given a statement, but I will be personally working on this case and I want to hear from you what you saw so I can do my absolute best.”

“Well,” the woman started, voice shaky, “I took my granddaughter last night while my daughter was at work. She’s a single mother and works two jobs, one of which is at a bar that’s opened late so I kept her overnight and took her out for breakfast this morning. I called around 11 when I hadn’t heard from her, but she didn’t answer her phone so we drove over to check on her and found her in the living room.”

You nodded, reaching to touch her hand and she released a shuddery breath. “I told Cora to go wait in her bedroom as soon as I saw her laying there. She was badly beaten, but I could see she was still breathing. I called 911 right away and waited with her until the paramedics got here.”

“Has anything strange happened over the last few days? Anything in the last 24 hours?”

The woman shook her head, a few grey hairs slipping from the elastic of her hair tie. “Nothing that would have caused me alarm. She got into a fight with her ex a few days ago, but that’s not unusual so it didn’t raise any red flags.”

“Was anything out of place when you entered the apartment?” You asked, switching your gaze between the woman and the child, the latter of whom was still staring distantly at the wall.

“Nothing that I noticed, but honestly I didn’t look the way I should have. I was too consumed with sheltering Cora and trying to make sure my daughter was OK.”

“Thank you so much for your cooperation.” You breathed, “I will do everything I can to help your family.”

“Thank you, detective.”

You returned to the living room; shoulders heavy in thought. There wasn’t a lot that seemed to be out of place, an overturned coffee table with what appeared to be coffee stained into the carpet from a dropped ceramic mug. There was some blood, but thankfully not a lot and you grimaced.

Yoongi was across the room talking with one of the other officers from your precinct and you scanned the room for anything that could have been missed in the initial search of the room. The apartment was a little older and run down, much like the complex, but it was clear that it was loved and well lived in. Toys were scattered in a corner of the room, a Roomba lodged by the small entertainment center.

The main living space was small, with mismatched drapery and furniture that looked like it had been loved by more than a few owners, but it had its charms and you smiled despite yourself. You really hoped the doctors were good so they could get this young mom back home soon. You’d work yourself to the bone if need be, as long as the person responsible was behind bars, that’s all that was driving you right now.

When evening came, you made your way drowsily to your car, heading out onto the road and into the evening traffic. You’d worked a 16-hour work day today and would likely have another tomorrow, you needed to eat and take a long bubble bath before making your way into bed for an early night.

Typically, you were more interested in showers. A bath took too long and the thought of sitting in your own dirty water was unappealing to you, but seeing as you didn’t have a masseuse at your disposal, this was as good as it would get. You’d just rinse off the dirt and grime of the day before actually running the bath water.

Once you’d returned home, locking your door behind you, you deposited your keys and bag by the door, twisting your neck in circles and making your way to your bedroom, removing your gun from its holster and setting it on your bedside table.

You decided on a bath first. The idea of ordering takeout and watching one episode of something mind numbing before bed was sublimely appealing so you stripped down, dropping everything into your hamper and made your way to turn on the shower.

After rinsing off, you grabbed a bath bomb from the bowl sitting on the back of your toilet and stopped the tub tight, allowing the hot water to fill a little before dropping the ball into the water and sliding your aching limbs in, watching what was essentially strawberry shortcake scented baking soda fizz into the water.

You’d worked as a police detective for 4 years now and you’d often heard that eventually you’d master the ability to switch off your mind at the end of a shift, but the skill still proved elusive as you soaked your aching bones, thinking about that sweet little girl who’s mommy wouldn’t be returning home to her tonight.

Honestly, the cases involving children were the worst part of your job. Your line of work was filled with misery and crappy outcomes more often than not, and in a high paced, high stress profession where a split second of indecision could cost a life, sometimes you wondered if it would only do harm to allow yourself to get so invested. Feelings were a tricky thing and you often allowed yours to run you; like a fool. Your mother often told you, you were too soft. Greek women were meant to be strong and passionate, and while you were definitely passionate, your mother had a hard time seeing that softness and strength could be one in the same.

You sighed, sticking a toe out of the water and playing with the handle above the spout. Tomorrow night you were expected over at your parent’s house for family dinner and you already felt exhausted from it. Your family meant well, but they always asked you when you’d be bringing a man home and honestly, aside from Yoongi, you really didn’t have time to meet a man.

A 16-hour work day was not out of the ordinary in your profession and in fact, more often than not, that was the norm. You’d gone on an odd blind date or two, mostly set up by your mother, a couple of weak introductions to a friend of a friend, but nothing had ever really amounted to anything.

Either you were too busy, they were, or there was just no spark. Granted, sometimes a spark built up over time, but unfortunately you had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue that sort of thing. Not right now, at least. You were still young. Besides, any free time you did have was spent in the isles of the grocery store. Life was so exciting.

After drying off and pulling on a pair of fuzzy pajamas, you walked back into the living room, sitting down in the plush seating of your far too expensive (but well worth it) couch and pulling up some takeout on your phone, flipping through your options before ordering something you knew would get to you quickly and taste decent.

Dropping your phone beside you, you flipped on the TV, pulling up some Hulu and scanning the different shows you could watch. You were feeling a bit depressed after today so you wanted to find something lighthearted.

A knock on your door startled you and you frowned. There was no way the food was here that quickly. They’d promised fast delivery, but 5 minutes was virtually impossible. Standing sluggishly, you made your way towards the door, peaking through the peep hole and chuckling.

You unlocked the door and pulled it open with a quick tug. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi looked about as tired as you felt, suitcase beside him, hand resting on the handle bar as he surveyed you. “I was just in the area…” he remarked sarcastically and you chuckled. “The sprinklers in the hotel went off so they refunded me but now I need a place to stay. Your offer still standing?”

“Of course.” You nodded, standing back as he trudged passed you, shoes squelching with water. “Did you manage to save any of your belongings from the sprinklers?”

You led him to the door across from yours, pushing it open and flicking on the light. You watched as he sighed, walking over to the bed and kicking off his shoes. He sat down on the edge of the bed, lifting one foot to peel an unfortunately soggy sock from where it clung.

“I managed to save most of it, thankfully. My stuff was packed in my suitcase,” he rapped his knuckles along the hard shell of his case to showcase, “it was just me that got soaked.”

“Did you need to take a shower to warm up?” You asked, watching as he stood up and pulled the mildly damp sweater over his head

“That would be great,” he nodded, glancing over at you.

“OK, well, you know where all the stuff is. I just ordered take out and you’re lucky I ordered with my eyes and not my brain; there will be plenty to share.” You grinned and he chuckled under his breath.

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the living room in 20, then.”

By the time the food had arrived, Yoongi was freshly showered and dressed in his pajamas, all dark to match the scowl on his face. “I smell like a gardening center.” He gripped, coming to sit beside you and taking the box of Chinese takeout you handed him.

“I like floral scents, Yoongi. Sue me.”

“Thanks again for letting me stay. I can pay you, if you need.” He said around a mouthful of orange chicken.

You scoffed, pushing a piece a broccoli around with your chopsticks, “You already know what I’m going to say. I told you, you could stay as long as you need, free of charge. It’s really not a big deal, Min. We work at the same place anyway so less greenhouse emissions or whatever.”

“You’re wanting to carpool?” He asked, glancing at you and you shrugged. “It makes sense, don’t you think? Partners at work, staying in the same place. We can save on gas money.”

Yoongi took a sip of his drink, staring off at the TV in thought. “I take the subway to work, actually. I’ll pay for gas, though. That can be my way of paying you.”

You chuckled, taking a bite of a dumpling. “I won’t argue with you on that one.”

You grabbed the remote, stirring the TV back to life. “I was gonna watch an episode and then hit the sack. You’re welcome to stay up after and watch whatever you want, just keep the volume low.”

Yoongi nodded, shoveling fried rice into his mouth and you started the TV show, kicking your feet up on the coffee table and snuggling deeper into your couch, blanket spread across your legs to keep you cozy.

You were actually kind of glad the sprinklers had rained Yoongi out of his hotel room. Not that you would wish material damage on the business or soggy clothes on your partner, but it was nice to have the company of your friend in a place that was normally quiet and a little lonely.

After you’d finished your food, you cleaned up the leftovers, sticking them in the fridge and throwing away the trash. Yoongi was still lounging in front of the television, eyes zoned out on bright colors and munching on a dumpling.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed.” You called and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Thanks again, Y/N. I’m gonna watch a little bit more but I’ll make sure the volume is low.”

You nodded, heading for your bedroom before turning at the door. “By the way, I generally leave the house around 7:30 to try and avoid some traffic. If you want a ride, you’ll need to be ready to go by then.”

“Cool.” He said, digging around in a box of vegetables with his chop sticks. “See you in the morning.”

After brushing your teeth and climbing into bed, you switched off your bedside lamp, pulling the blankets up to your nose. Knowing Yoongi was just beyond the door left you with a fluttering in your stomach and you sighed.

You’d known Yoongi for years now. A rookie in the police academy the same time as you. You hadn’t known him well at the time, but you’d spoken to him enough to have a school girl crush on him that still had yet to fully fade. When you’d graduated from the academy and gone to work as a police officer, the two of you had worked in different parts of the city and you hadn’t seen him for years until you’d been promoted to detective and moved to a new precinct where you and Yoongi were assigned as partners.

In a large agency with over 100 detectives, the chances of being partnered with your academy crush were slim. At first, you’d been terrified and thought about talking to the chief about being assigned a new partner; you weren’t sure you could stay on task if his face was always around distracting you. You knew the likelihood of being switched was almost zero, though. Besides, at first, he was an absolute asshole so that crush mostly faded over time until you finally got to know him better.

He’d become a little hardened by the nature of your work, been working as a beat cop longer than he cared to admit until finally working his way up the food chain to where he was now. The problem with Yoongi was that he cared too much, wanted to help so badly that when he couldn’t, when night after night he’d come across the bodies of the victim’s he couldn’t help, talked to the women he couldn’t protect, well…it took its toll.

It’s not like he’d ever been a sunny optimist, his disposition in general was a little quiet and reserved, but he’d certainly been more willing to hope for positive outcomes back then. You knew he still loved his work, still believed people were worth fighting for, but the world was ugly and he’d seen too much of it to remain innocent. It had taken a while to scratch past that surface of cynicism to find the gentle hearted man you remembered from the academy.

Once you’d found him, he’d melted like butter in your hands, opening up and not only reigniting that young woman’s crush, but becoming one of your dearest friends. You couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in this line of work; you needed his attention to detail and his ability to push through hard things. He’d become worn with the grief, but it had only pushed him to work harder, do better, even if it had taken some of his idealism away.

****

The buzzer to the coffee pot was loud, hissing with life and you ran from your room, fastening one earring to your ear as you ripped the pot out and glanced towards the room where Yoongi was sleeping. You assumed he was up by now, though you couldn’t be sure. You hadn’t heard the shower turn on after you, but you had been listening to music so perhaps you’d missed it.

Grabbing a mug from a shelf above the sink, you placed it on the counter and began to pour yourself a cup. Today was going to be a long day, calling people in to get some interviews and maybe compile more evidence. The mother of your beating victim had indicated that it may have been the boyfriend and the recordings you’d taken from the victims answering machine seemed like a good confirmation that was true, but you were a big believer in innocent until proven guilty and you needed more evidence than hearsay.

“How many spoons of sugar have you put in there?” Yoongi gagged from behind you and you jumped, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

“What?”

He pointed to your mug, your hand gripping a spoonful of sugar over the top and you blinked. “Oh…um, I don’t know, actually. I wasn’t paying attention.” You lifted your cup to your mouth to sip, lips puckering briefly. “Oh, apparently a lot. Oh well. Did you want cream?”

You stepped in front of the fridge, pulling out a small carton of creamer and walking back to your own cup, pouring liberally before holding it out to him.

He shook his head, grabbing another mug and pouring until the coffee had nearly met the rim. “You know I like my coffee black.”

“Yeah, but what I don’t know is why.”

He shrugged, taking a large gulp of his drink and sighing happily. “Because it’s delicious.”

“Agree to disagree.” You nodded, walking towards the toaster and grabbing some bread. “Did you want something to eat? I normally grab something more substantial on the way in, but I’m hungry right now and need something to tide me over.”

“Sure, I’ll take a piece of toast.” You grabbed two slices, dropping them into the toaster and pushing the lever down.

“Butter? Jam?”

“Just butter.” He hummed over the top of his cup, taking a seat at the table and you nodded, bringing the crock over to the kitchen table for him. “Thanks again for letting me stay. I really feel guilty about not paying you, though. What if-”

“Yoongi, if you even try to slip me a few coins I’ll chop your hands off. Seriously, no payment necessary. I’m happy to help. Besides, we already agreed on gas.”

“I could have you arrested for threatening an officer.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair and you grinned over your shoulder.

“Oo, handcuffs, don’t threaten me with pleasure.” You wiggled your eyebrows and he huffed with laughter.

“Raunchy. Never knew you were into that sort of thing.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” You agreed, slipping the newly toasted bread onto a plate and sliding it to the center of the table next to the butter. “Bon appetite.” You grinned, slathering your own toast with butter and taking a bite, Yoongi’s widened eyes making you grin.

***

The office was slow when you got there, Yoongi trailing behind you still munching on the breakfast burrito you’d stopped for on the way. He hummed happily; steak burrito shoved hallway into his mouth. “Dith you know dees hal fren friz in dem?” He mumbled around his mouthful, sitting down at this desk and you grimaced over at him.

“Finish your mouthful first, you animal. I didn’t understand a thing you said to me.”

He chewed quickly, swallowing and turning his burrito to face you. “Did you know these have French fries in them?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “it’s their signature thing.” You took another bite of your own burrito, more civilized than Yoongi, and leaned over to turn on your computer.

“We need to get some people in here today.” You said, setting your food down on your desk. “I was thinking we should get in family members, friends, that neighbor who claimed they saw the ex-boyfriend outside her house and then him too, if we can.”

Yoongi nodded, clicking against his keyboard animatedly, “the report says the victim has two brothers, let’s start with them.”

“You wanna call them and I’ll try getting ahold of some of her friends?” “Sure.”

You pulled your notes from yesterday, scanning through the phone numbers you’d been given and holding the pad up for Yoongi to type in the one of the brother’s numbers before you looked back over it and punched in the number of one of the friends.

The morning was spent calling around and setting up interviews. So far, the only one with something relatively interesting to say was the neighbor. The family members and friends’ statements were aided by conjecture but they hadn’t been there so they didn’t have much of substance to give.

You didn’t blame them, but it was frustrating. So much hearsay and not enough evidence. Your heart told you it was the ex-boyfriend, but without reasonable evidence, gut instinct was worthless. You could only hope that his interview would be more interesting than all the others.

At 11am he walked through the doors, gazing around the room and you motioned to Yoongi before standing and moving towards him. “Mr. Grant, I’m assuming?”

He nodded and you motioned for him to follow you. Yoongi brought up the rear, closing the door to the interrogation room. Mr. Grant was tall, intimidatingly so, with his hair shaved close and tattoos peaking from every gap of clothing. He looked like he’d never taken a day off from the gym and you grimaced at the thought of what a fist like that could do to your victim’s face.

“Did you want anything to drink? Coffee? Water?” Yoongi asked, hand still holding the door handle.

“I’m good.” Mr. Grant replied, adjusting his jeans before taking a seat.

“Thank you for coming in to talk today,” You began, flipping open the file with your victim’s paperwork. You pulled a picture from the file, sliding it across the table. “Can you tell me how you know this woman?”

Mr. Grant looked down at the picture, pulling a face you couldn’t quite decipher but keeping his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. “Ex-girlfriend.” He said with a shrug, “we’ve got a kid together.”

“Cora?” You questioned and he nodded. He didn’t seem surprised by the picture; cold and callous in his appraisal of her beaten face in vivid color. “When is the last time you saw Cora?”

He sighed, running a hand over the top of his head, fingers fidgeting, before sliding back in his pocket. “Few days ago. I’ve been busy but I usually have her on the weekends.”

“You’re not concerned at all that the mother of your child looks like that?” Yoongi questioned, pointing down at the picture in front of him. Mr. Grant glanced down at it again, shrugging.

“We’re not close.” He remarked and you frowned.

“Don’t you wanna know if she’s dead or alive?” You asked and he sighed again, like this was all a giant waste of his time.

“I figure she’s dead, since I’m in here.” He replied, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s not.” You replied and watched as his eyebrow quirked. “She’s in a medically induced coma. Massive bleeding to the brain, a broken pelvis and femur, and a perforated lung. Do you know how someone would get like that?”

“I assume you’re going to tell me.” He drawled, rolling his head to the side.

“A fist, presumably.” Yoongi replied. “Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?”

“I don’t know her life, man.” Mr. Grant rolled his eyes, “she comes from a white bread, blue collar family. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Yoongi sighed, grabbing the chair from beside you and twisting it to sit, chest against the back as he surveyed Mr. Grant from across the top. “We found some threatening voicemail’s left on her phone, all from you. You must understand why we’re a little suspicious.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your ex girl tries to take your kid away from you. I haven’t done anything that would warrant her getting full custody.”

“Aside from putting a fist through her face, of course.” Yoongi remarked and Mr. Grant smirked.

“Where’s your proof, man?” He crooned.

“We’ve got the tapes and now your admission of a child custody battle, which is already not great for you. Now all we need is that smoking gun.”

“Yeah, well good luck. I was at a movie with a chick and then she was at my house until an hour ago getting her back blown out. Ticket stub to prove it.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket, removing a receipt and throwing it on the table.

“You don’t even know when all of this happened.” You said, pulling on a glove to pick up the stub and sticking it inside a bag for evidence.

“I’m guessing in the last twelve hours,” He remarked, finger pointing down at the picture of your victim, “Since she looks like this and I appear to be your prime suspect. I doubt you’d wait too long to call me in.”

“We’re gonna need the name of the woman you were with.” Yoongi hummed, twisting his thumbs around one another.

“Don’t know her name.” He shrugged, “Sara something.”

You frowned, closing the manila envelope with a flick of your wrist. “We’ll be in contact, Mr. Grant. Don’t go too far. Have a nice day.”

He smirked, standing and waiting at the door for Yoongi to open it for him. He then waltzed from the room and out of the precinct with the confidence of a man who’d just gotten away with murder. You hoped that wasn’t the case.

You stood by the door of the interrogation room, watching as he disappeared before groaning and walking back to your desk, flopping in your seat.

“Talk to me.” Yoongi said, following your lead.

“Honestly, I’m just really frustrated.”

“Lay it on me.” Yoongi said, leaning back in his chair, legs propped open wide and you were distracted for a moment.

“I-I just-” You tore your gaze away from him, squeezing your eyes shut and pushing your fingers into your temple. “I’m frustrated that so far, we’re no closer to catching our bad guy. I don’t know, my gut just says it’s the ex, but no one can prosecute on a gut feeling. I can’t believe he has an alibi.”

Yoongi nodded before leaning forward and smacking your knee to get your attention. “Y/N, this is day 2. Don’t get so discouraged. We’ll go around the neighborhood, see if we can get access to camera footage in the area and just look for anything interesting.”

“But what if we don’t find anything? What if this guy gets off, Yoongi?”

Yoongi frowned, leaning back in his chair once more, one pant leg hiked up enough to reveal the navy blue of his sock and his fingers twitching against his kneecap. “We’ll get him, Y/N. Whoever the guy is, we’ll get him.”

“I want that little girl to have her mom back.” You sighed, dragging your chair back to your desk by the heels of your shoes.

“She will.” Yoongi said, dragging his chair right next to yours and you turned to look at him, his face far closer than you were used to. “If you stress over this, you’re gonna make a mistake. Take a break, Y/N, go get a coffee or something.”

You nodded, mute, before standing up and making your way to the break room, fingers twitching nervously in the pockets of your slacks. Yoongi had never been an overly affectionate partner. He showed he cared in different ways, but if he were a love language, it was definitely not physical touch.

The coffee was already brewed as you made your way into the grey and aging break room. The seafoam green florescent box light above flickering on one side and you grabbed a mug from the cupboard, pouring yourself a cup and searching the fridge for an unexpired creamer.

After you’d found one that seemed the least questionable, you sat down at the table, coffee steaming from the mug and up into your face as you bent over it, fingers scratching into your scalp. You weren’t good with setbacks; they stressed you out. It was probably very strange from the outside that you’d chosen a field that was filled to the brim with disappointments, but ever since you were a little girl, getting the bad guy was always your thing.

It started small with Johnny Walcot on your street. He’d taken your little cousin’s chalk and tried to run away with it. You’d chased him half a block before you’d tackled him to the ground and given him a nice shiner to remember you by. Your methods had changed since then.

In high school you’d joined clubs, volunteered to be hall monitor, and even ran for student body president. You were a bit of a goodie toe shoes, but whatever, it made for a really good job application when you’d applied to the academy when you were 21.

You sighed, dropping your hands onto the table and allowing the smoky aroma of roasted coffee beans to ease your shoulders into a slump. Yoongi was right, you just needed to pound pavement and see what you could dig up. You were no quitter and you’d go down fighting if necessary.

Taking a long sip of your drink, you leaned back in your chair, face tilting up to the ceiling and you closed your eyes. Maybe you needed to start practicing yoga, your cousin was always going on and on about how relaxed it made her feel. You could really do with some relaxation right about now.

The door to the break room opened with a squeak and Yoongi waltzed in, eyeing the pot of coffee on the counter. “Did you make a new batch?”

“No,” you shook your head, “but it’s still fresh.”

He nodded, making his way over with his own personal coffee cup and emptying the pot into his mug before joining you at the table. “I was thinking,” he paused to sip at his drink, humming softly, “there’s that credit union on the corner right by our vic’s apartment, we should go see if they caught anything on their security camera. There’s a few other places nearby as well that we could check in on; one of them is bound to have cameras.”

“Don’t even know what I’m looking for now that the ex has an alibi.” You muttered, rubbing your thumb down the handle of your mug.

“Clues.” Yoongi teased and you smiled up at him, “Come on, we’ve got this, it’s only day two. We’ll head out after this and see what we can find.”

Early spring in the city meant allergies. For Yoongi, that is. He sneezed before whining childishly, pulling a tissue from his pocket and blowing his nose. “Hay fever is the worst.” He griped, throwing the tissue in the nearest garbage can and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed you along the sidewalk.

“Tell me how you really feel.” You hummed and he glowered.

“I don’t remember asking for your sass.” He said and you smiled, shrugging.

“You didn’t not ask for it either.” You pushed open the door to the credit union, holding it open for Yoongi to follow you through. You were being greeted before Yoongi could retort and a lady in a cream tweed suit and clipboard in hand came to stand in front of you.

“How can I help you today?” She smiled, lips painted an alarming shade of red. Yoongi held up his badge quickly before clipping it back to his belt. “We’re doing some investigating on a case in this area and we’re wondering if the security camera’s outside work or if they’re more for scare tactics.”

“They do work.” The women confirmed, dark eyebrows folding in the center. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about it, though. You’d need to speak to our branch president for more information.”

“Is the branch president here today?” You asked and the woman turned to you, lips pursed and head nodding.

“He is. If you’ll just wait here a moment, I’ll go grab him.” She turned on her heel, clicking along the marble floor and into the adjacent hallway before disappearing around a corner.

“This place is fancy.” You remarked, gaze shifting around the room. Floor to ceiling windows against the front of the building, white marble flooring, and Mozart wafting softly from somewhere unseen. It likely made for a very pleasant banking experience.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a new bank recently; hate all my banks fees. They are blood suckers with their overdraft fees.” Yoongi remarked, his gaze steady on the hallway where the woman had disappeared.

“This is too rich for your blood.” You sighed and Yoongi turned to glare at you.

“What are you insinuating?”

“Take a wild guess.” You teased. Just then, the clicking of heels returned and the two of you turned to find the woman at the opening to the hallway, waving you over.

“If you’ll just follow me.”

Heavy oak doors lined the walls leading to what you could only assume were offices. You followed around the corner before she stood before one door, pausing to knock.

“Sir.” She greeted, ushering the two of you towards her bosses’ desk before leaving back to the lobby. A cherry wood desk greeted you, home to a middle aged, mildly rotund man. His hair was mousy brown, pushed out of his face and his nose held up the wire framed glasses he was sporting.

“Good afternoon.” He smiled, standing and coming to shake your hands, “I’m Dean Clark. Nancy tells me you’re inquiring after security footage?”

“Yes, actually, we’re covering a case in the area and we’re hoping to find some more information through security footage.” Yoongi said, taking the seat the branch president had gestured to.

Mr. Clark sat behind his desk, clicking the mouse of his computer and nodding his head as he searched through files. “What time frame are you wanting to search through?”

“Yesterday morning seems to be around when things started, but if we could see the footage all the way through Friday morning, that would be helpful.”

Mr. Clark nodded, busying himself in his search and you took a moment to look around the room. It was as classy as the lobby, though darker in color. Exactly what you would imagine for a CEO or president of a company. A ticking clock on the wall distracted you for a moment and you watched the minute hand tick down.

“Ah, here we go. OK, I’m just going to save it really quick. Is there anything else I can do for you officers while you’re here?”

“That’s all we need for now,” Yoongi confirmed, “but we’ll be in contact if there’s anything else at a later date.”

Mr. Clark handed over the CD he’d saved the file on and you slipped it into your bag, thanking him before the three of you stood and he directed you back down the correct side of the hallway.

You spent the next two hours visiting nearby establishments, getting any security footage you could before making your way back to the office to review the files. You were a little damp from walking around in the sun for so long. With dreams of the personal fan you had sitting on your desk, you made your way inside, Yoongi following behind.

“Officer Y/N.”

You turned to the voice calling you, Officer Gordon nodding over at the waiting room. “There’s a neighbor of your victim here; a Ms. Jiang. Says she’s got some information for you.”

“Thank you, Jacob.” You said, patting his arm before grabbing the files from your desk and making your way towards the waiting room.

“I’ll be in room 3.” Yoongi called over to you and you nodded.

“Ms. Jiang?” You asked and a small woman, looking around late 60’s and a head full of straight white hair, stood slowly with a wave. “Thank you so much for coming in. I hope you weren’t waiting terribly long, we weren’t aware you were coming today.”

“Oh no,” she waved you away, following slowly along with you as she gripped at her cane, “I’ve only been here about 5 minutes and the other officers were so nice. Got me a nice cup of tea while I waited.”

“I’m so glad they took care of you.” You smiled, “we’re just over here in this room.”

Ms. Jiang made her way into the room, acknowledging Yoongi with a quick nod before taking the proffered seat.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Yoongi asked and her eyes crinkled with her smile.

“No thank you, dear. I had a tea while I was waiting.”

After closing the door, you sat quickly in your seat, placing your file on the table in front of you and leaning forward. “Ms. Jiang, we were told that you came with some information for us?”

“Well yes. I know that poor girl next door got beaten, she’s in the hospital I heard. I feel so sorry for her. She’s a very good girl, works really hard to take care of her daughter. It’s not an easy job being a single mom. I was a single mom to two when my husband died; it’s a real challenge.”

“Did you see something on that day?” Yoongi asked gently and she nodded, lips rubbing together.

“Yes, I believe I did. That morning I had to go put my trash outside by the dumpster. My kids don’t live very close anymore, you see, and ever since my husband died I’ve had to do it all by myself. While I was out with the garbage I saw that dreadful man again.”

“Which man?” You asked and she frowned.

“That man that she used to date. I don’t know his name, never cared to hear it, but he comes by sometimes to pick up that little girl for a few days. It was very early in the morning, the sun hadn’t even come up yet. I’m an early riser, see, so I was out getting a start on my daily chores. I’d know him anywhere, though. His tattoos are hard to miss since he’s got so many of them.

“Well, at first I didn’t think much of it because, as I said, he comes by sometimes to see that little girl. I thought it was a little odd that he was there so early in the morning, but it wasn’t my business to interfere unless something was wrong. Well, I went back to my apartment for a little while before I realized I’d forgotten to take the recycling out.

“So, I was taking my recycling out when I heard a door open and close and I looked and saw him again. He was shoving something in the pocket of his jeans, like a tiny little bat, and then walking quickly down the stairs. I thought that was really strange; why would he come so early in the morning to pick up a tiny little thing like that? He didn’t even have the little girl with him.”

“Did you see anything else?” You asked, heart racing in your chest. You knew it; you just knew it. Somehow, he was lying and you were going to prove it.

“Unfortunately not. I wanted to knock on the door to see if that young woman was OK, but I didn’t want to seem like a busy body spying on other people’s lives. I know she works strange hours to make ends meet, so I just thought she must have been awake for work or something. Now I feel real sorry for not checking.”

“It’s not your fault.” Yoongi insisted, “no one could have known what happened.”

“Ma’am, would you be willing to write and sign a statement about what you witnessed?” You questioned.

Ms. Jiang nodded, wringing her hands together. “Yes, of course. Anything I can do to help that poor girl.”

After Ms. Jiang had left, both you and Yoongi made your way back to your desks. You still had multiple days’ worth of security footage to go through from multiple businesses and a ticking clock.

“That was unexpected.” Yoongi commented as he took a seat at his desk.

“It was.” You agreed, nodding. “It’s strange that she saw him when he supposedly has an alibi.” Your fingers twitched against the keys of your keyboard in thought. “We need to find that woman Sara, if she even exists.”

“Let’s get started on the security footage first. Later today, we should also go by the theater he mentioned and see if we can get their security feed; get a good look at the woman he was with.”

“I’m hungry, too, so maybe we could get something to eat on the way.”

After lunch and a mind numbing few hours of watching security footage which, so far, had not divulged anything interesting, you were feeling burnt out and frustrated. Again. Yoongi’s phone rang at his desk and you yawned, scrolling through to the next time stamp.

“Hey,” Yoongi called, leaning across the arm of his chair excitedly and you swiveled your head to the side to look at him. “The lab just called and said they’ve got something new on our cold case.”

“Good. I need a break from this for a minute anyway.”

Later, after returning home for the evening and Yoongi promptly changing into sweats and a t-shirt, you went to your room to change and get ready for dinner at your parents. You were hungry and apprehensive. It wasn’t a stretch to wonder if your mother and aunts would ask more questions about your love life and you were already dreading the conversation.

“Going out?” Yoongi asked from his burrito blanket on the couch.

“Yeah,” You hummed, searching your purse for your keys, “family dinner tonight. You ok with fending for yourself?”

Yoongi scoffed, flipping channels on the TV. “I think I can handle it.”

“Well, I’ve got some takeout menus stashed in the drawer by my fridge, if you wanted to order something. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

The drive was quiet as you made your way towards the outskirts of the city. After you’d left home, you’d left an empty nest for your parents. With you and your siblings out of the house, they’d decided to move out of the city and downsize.

You didn’t blame them. They were getting older and climbing all those stairs in their old brownstone was taking its toll on their knees. They needed something on one level that wouldn’t break the bank. After finding a spot on the street, you locked the doors, making your way towards their house. It was still an apartment but with one level and street access. The smaller space made for very interesting family dinners.

The evening was peaceful, still light enough outside to make for a nice stroll and you listened as the crickets chirped excitedly. The days were starting to really warm up, but the evenings were still cool and required a light jacket. Families sat in their homes at their tables or around the TV eating and watching movies and for a moment you let yourself envy them.

Your family often asked you when you were getting married and though you brushed them off with a roll of your eyes, you too wanted to find the family they so badly wanted for you. There had to be two willing participants to play and so far, there was just one.

“Y/N!” Your mother called happily as she opened the door just as you’d raised your hand to knock. “I saw you from the window. Come in, come in!”

The apartment was alive with noise, nieces and nephews running and playing, your uncle and your dad arguing about how to properly season a steak, and your aunt fussing over the pregnant belly of your older sister.

“Ah, the baby has arrived!” Your father called, turning from your uncle who looked like he was two seconds away from blowing a fuse. “Let’s eat!”

“You kept us waiting!” Your sister fussed, linking her arm through yours and you smiled.

“I’m sorry Palma, I know this one was probably making your life difficult, huh?” You said, rubbing your hand across her belly and she sighed.

“You know, after four kids, you’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m practically foaming at the mouth by the time dinner is ready.”

The dining table had, had the extension put in and still, another long table was needed in the living room. No table was ever big enough for your family to sit at comfortably. With two sets of aunts and uncles, a few cousins, your three siblings and their families along with your parents and yourself, it always made for a very tight squeeze. You couldn’t even imagine trying to fit all the extended family still living far away. It wouldn’t be possible.

Your mom always insisted on having everyone over, though. She said that after having four kids she’d forgotten how to make smaller meals so it was necessary to come and help her eat it all. You certainly weren’t complaining about your mother’s home cooked meals. They were what kept you going through hard weeks when cases weren’t panning out.

You watched as Palma and her husband wrangled their children into their seats before coming to join you back at the table. Your brothers sat further down the table with their wives and if they hadn’t nodded at you as you’d come in, you wouldn’t have even been sure they’d seen you.

“You found a man yet, anipsiá?” Your aunt asked, filling her plate with moussaka and choriatiki. She popped a kalamata olive in her mouth, humming as she chewed.

“Not since two days ago, theía.” You smiled. She chuckled, swatting at you from across the table.

“I worry about you, Y/N.” She sighed, “I don’t want you to be like me, no marriage until 35 and only one baby. Oh, it was such a hard time for me to let down my family like that. The oldest daughter with no family.” Her eyebrows creased in the center as she thought about it before shoving a bite of moussaka so large you thought she might choke.

“Thirty-five isn’t old, though, theía. Besides, you still had Ambrose and he’s great!”

She nodded, solemn. “He is great, but you know I would have liked to give him some brothers and sisters. Thirty-five is advanced maternal age, anipsiá. Don’t put yourself in that situation.”

You sighed, cutting off the corner of your pastitsio and stabbing it moodily with your fork. “I have to find a man I like first, you know that.”

“What about that Yoongi boy?” She asked and you choked around your mouthful, Palma, slapping her hand against your back.

“Yoongi?” you gasped after you’d swallowed your food. “My partner?”

“Sure!” She nodded, taking another large bite and chewing loudly, “He would give you very pretty babies. He’s already your friend, too. You’re halfway there!”

You huffed with laughter, shaking your head. “Have you been drinking too much Retsina? You’re talking crazy.”

“Well why not?” Palma asked, “you told me you had a crush on him in the academy, what’s different now?”

“We’re partners!” You insisted, “that would be weird and inappropriate in the workplace.”

Palma shrugged, “you’re both consenting adults, I don’t see what the issue is.”

“Ok, let’s say for arguments sake that we dated and then broke up. What then?” You dipped some pita bread in the tzatziki sauce before taking a bite and watching your sister with eyebrows raised.

“So, what you’re telling me is you wouldn’t be mature enough to still work together after doing the diddly do?” She grinned and you whined, dipping your bread again.

“Don’t call it that, you make it sound so gross.”

“I’m just saying,” she chuckled, feeding a bite of cheese to the two-year-old hanging from her arm, “It’s not a big deal if you don’t make it a big deal. Now, if you genuinely weren’t interested in him then that would be one thing, but so far I haven’t heard you denying your crush.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because there’s nothing to deny.” You huff, pushing some food across your plate with your fork. “But a relationship needs to be mutual and so far, it seems like he’s not really in the same mind set as me.”

“You never know until you try!” Your aunt insisted, waving her pita bread at you and you smiled, nodding.

“You should bring Yoongi to dinner next time. Don’t give me that look, I don’t mean for that. I just think it would be fun. I’ve never actually met your partner.” Palma shooed her son away and he slumped back to the kids table, a clump of feta cheese squeezed in his fist.

“I’ll ask him, I guess.” You shrugged.

***

By the time you’d made your way back into the apartment, it was late. You’d stayed and had a glass of wine and some dessert while playing games before bidding your farewells. The apartment was dark but you could see the light under Yoongi’s door, signaling his presence and you moved drowsily towards your own room, flicking on the lights and closing your door.

After brushing your teeth and stripping down to your underwear, you crawled under your duvet, shivering at the airconditioned sheets before melting into your mattress. You were so tired, eyes heavy from lack of sleep.

Your phone ringing from the pocket of your jeans startled you and you reached over the side of your bed, digging around in the pile of clothes you hadn’t bothered to put in the hamper. Pulling your phone to your ear you answered with a groggy hello.

“Officer Y/N? It’s Laura from down at the precinct. I’m sorry to be calling so late.”

“No, it’s fine,” you murmured, leaning on one elbow, “what’s going on?”

“We’ve got the ex-boyfriend of your beating victim here. He was arrested at a bar, drunk and disorderly, mumbling about how “she had it coming.” We’re gonna keep him in a holding cell overnight and I thought you might want to know.”

“Yes, actually. Thank you so much! Yoongi and I will be there tomorrow morning to see what’s going on.”

After hanging up and dropping your phone on the other side of your bed you stared up at the ceiling, mind racing. She had it coming. It was chilling how callous some people could be. You weren’t sure if he meant your victim, but your gut said yes. Your gut wouldn’t cut it, though. You needed proof…and you were gonna find it.

Yoongi was already awake when you entered the kitchen the next morning. Dressed in dark slacks and a white button up, he was looking more handsome than was reasonable and he looked over at you, nodding over the rim of his cup.

“I made coffee.” He motioned to his side and you thanked him, pushing the hem of your shirt into your pants. “Did you get the phone call last night?”

“From Laura?” At his nod you hummed, “yeah, I did. We can stop over there first thing. I want to talk to him about what he meant by she had it coming.”

“I’ve got an inkling.” Yoongi mumbled into his mug and you sighed.

“Me too, but no one can prosecute on an inkling.”

Yoongi slumped around the kitchen, opening cupboards and peering at the contents inside. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you could understand the feeling of frustration in lack of answers.

“How was your family?” He asked, muffled by the door to one of your cupboards.

“They were good. Loud, as usual.” He turned to look at you, smiling and closing the cupboard. “Actually, they told me to invite you to dinner next weekend. Would you be up for it?”

“Free Greek food? I’m absolutely on board. I’m in need of a really good food coma these days.”

“Well you’ll definitely get your wish with my mom’s cooking.” You chuckled, filling your travel mug with coffee and fixing it to your preferences. “Let’s go. We can grab something to eat on the way there.”

Mr. Grant was awake in his holding cell when you arrived and you were escorted to one of the interrogation rooms while someone went to go grab him. Breakfast sat heavy in your stomach as you waited and Yoongi picked at his nails, lounging next to you.

“Stop picking, your finger nails are already really short as it is.” You murmured, looking over at him and he looked up at you with a smirk.

“I didn’t realize you made it a regular practice to stare at my fingers, Y/N.”

You scoffed, flipping open the file of your beating victim and turning to gaze down at the information collected so far. The door opening caught your attention and you watched as Mr. Grant was escorted to the seat opposite the two of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked once the door had been closed behind the retreating officer.

“Mr. Grant, do you remember anything from last night?” You asked, watching his eyebrow tick up.

“Not a whole lot, to be honest. I was pretty drunk.” He grinned and you drummed your fingers against the desk in front of you.

“So we’ve heard. So then you don’t remember saying, “She had it coming?”” Mr. Grants jaw clamped shut, mouth tightening into a thin line. “Care to enlighten us? Who’s she Mr. Grant?”

His gaze traveled to the wall behind you, eyes glazing over. “Clearly you didn’t mean to let that little tidbit slip,” Yoongi pressed, watching as Mr. Grant’s jaw tensed. “So what, you get in a fight? She’s threatening to take your kid away from you and you just snap, right? Figure she can’t take Cora away if she’s dead.”

He wouldn’t budge. “A neighbor saw you outside her apartment,” you coerced. “On the morning she was found beaten. Saw you there really early in the morning and with a tiny little bat. What were you doing there, Mr. Grant?”

“It’s not what you think!” He insisted suddenly and your eyebrows rose in interest. “I was just there to give her that bat for Cora because I’d gotten it engraved. I knew she was getting off work at that time so I wanted to drop it off before she went to sleep. We got in a fight, though, so I left and forgot to leave the bat there.”

“You got a tiny kids baseball bat engraved?” Yoongi asked, frowning.

“Yeah, Cora and I like to play baseball, it’s our thing. I thought it might be a nice gift.”

“You said you got in a fight with her.” You pressed and his gaze switched quickly to yours, “What about?”

You could see him shutting down before he’d even shook his head. “Nah, I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer present. I know how these things go.”

“Very well. An attorney will be appointed to you or you can choose your own representation. We’ll have one of the other officers come take care of that for you and we’ll be in contact.”

You stood, Yoongi following behind you as you made your way out of the station and towards your car. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes as you started the engine and backed away from the curb. “Now what?” He mused, eyes staring empty at the roof of your car as you made your way back towards your office.

“I don’t know.” You admit, thumbs rubbing circles into the steering wheel, “we just keep looking. We’ll watch the rest of the security footage and forensics took swabs of everything. We’ll find something.”

“What does any of that matter?” Yoongi scoffed, “he admitted he was there but without any actual proof that he hit her then we’ve got nothing. We’re gonna find traces of him in her apartment, he goes there to see his daughter. If we see him on the footage, big deal, he said he was there. You know? We need real, hard evidence that he beat her.”

“We’ll get it.” You insisted and Yoongi sighed, running his fingers along the door handle.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “but we will. We need to get a warrant to search his place; try and find that bat. We’ve got enough probable cause to go to a judge. I just don’t buy his story. He showed up at his ex-girlfriend’s house at 5 am to drop off a tiny bat he got engraved for his daughter? Bull. Why wouldn’t he drop it off when she was there? Wouldn’t he want to see her face when she gets it…if it’s really that important to them?”

“When we get back to the office we need to compile all the evidence we can find and call the judge. I wanna get this guy.”

Thanks to Ms. Jiang’s information, pinpointing when Mr. Grant would have walked by certain stores was easier and both Yoongi and you were able to find him on multiple security cameras on the morning of your victims beating. With that, Ms. Jeong’s statements, and the other affidavits of the victim’s family members, and Mr. Grant’s own admission that he was in fact there that morning, you were able to secure a warrant for his apartment.

Mr. Grant seemed surprised to see you when you arrived, a few officers flanked behind you. “I don’t remember inviting you to my house for dinner.” He replied sarcastically and you smiled, holding the warrant up.

“We have a warrant. These officers would be happy to explain the details of it to you while you wait outside with them.”

“What are you even searching for?” He complained, stepping outside while both Yoongi and you walked into his apartment, “I told you I didn’t do anything.”

“Then you should have nothing to worry about.” You replied.

Mr. Grant’s apartment was a little older, a little run down from neglect. The living room was standard fair; a small TV in the corner on top of a table that had seen better days and flanked on one side were curtains, yellowing with age.

Both Yoongi and you split up, a couple other officers helping to fill in the gaps as you searched for anything you could find that would give you answers you needed; specifically the little bat Ms. Jiang had mentioned.

Mr. Grant’s apartment was dirty and you wondered absentmindedly if any man would actually bring a date here to this mess or if this was a byproduct of two days. In moments like these, you were glad to be wearing gloves. Not one single ounce of you wanted to touch anything in this place with any less protection.

You could hear Yoongi calling you from the bedroom so you made your way out of the bathroom and towards the back of the apartment where Yoongi stood, a tiny wooden bat hanging from his gloved fingers.

“Think this is it?” He asked as you walked closer, looking it over.

“Probably. Bag it and we’ll see if it’s got anything to say.”

After searching through every nook and cranny of the apartment, you all returned to the office to have the bat analyzed by forensics. The victim was still in the hospital in a coma and this was more frustrating than anything else. A little girl was out there without her mom and you weren’t even sure if she’d ever get her back.

It made you want to pull your hair out.

Both Yoongi and you spent the next few days following up with leads on your cold case and coming up empty handed every time. It was frustrating to feel like you were doing everything you could to succeed and there was always a wall in the way.

The case had gone cold years ago, almost 11 years now, and the family had been waiting with no answers. Leads had basically all dried up by the time the case made it onto your desks and you’d been backtracking in an effort to find anything the original officers had missed.

Initially it had seemed like an open and shut case, kid was 18, a legal adult. She probably ran away. Her parents were uptight and had a lot of rules. The more the officers dug, though, the more grey the evidence became. Things left behind that didn’t make sense for her to leave, like her money, all her clothes, and her brand new puppy.

Testimonials from friends and relatives about what a happy and secure young woman she was…it just didn’t add up. Why would someone like that run away? Typically, runaways were troubled and facing a lot of trauma. She just didn’t fit the box.

She would be 29 now; if she was still alive. It seemed unlikely after all this time, but you wanted to at least give her family some closure. You couldn’t even imagine if your sister or either of your brothers had gone missing when you were growing up. Your family was a massive piece of you; you would be empty without them.

The weekend was time off for you and you spent most of Sunday lounging in bed. You could heard Yoongi puttering around in the kitchen or living room before he’d disappear back into his room to mess around on his laptop.

It was comforting to have him around, even if you were both doing your own things. Having him with you just felt as if there was something you’d been missing all along and it had finally been identified and returned to its place. You liked to think you had control over your little school girl crush from back at the academy, but honestly it had built over the years and morphed into something much closer to a word you didn’t even want to think about yourself. It was too terrifying.

A knock at your door startled you from your thoughts and you called out for Yoongi to come in. He stepped through the door, still in a pair of blue flannel pajama bottoms and an old white t-shirt. Even now he looked handsome. The door stayed open beside him as he tucked his hands into the pockets against his thighs, surveying you as you lounged in bed looking over at him.

“Nice double chin.” He smirked and you scoffed, chucking a decorative pillow at him.

“Did you come here for something important or just to annoy me?” You complained.

He chuckled, leaning against the door jam and folding his arms across his chest. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“I haven’t left this bed once and it’s been a blissful 6 hours. There was one moment where there was almost a tragedy and I nearly wet my pants, but thankfully the feeling passed.”

Yoongi frowned, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Aren’t we going to your families place for dinner tonight?”

“What of it? I’ll be up with enough time to shower and look presentable, I promise. Besides, the less I eat now, the more I can eat there.”

“That’s fair,” he conceded, “but I’d rather you not pee your bed; I’d never be able to look at you the same.”

“How do you look at me now?” You teased, eyebrows wiggling and you made sure to accentuate the double chin that looking over at him created.

“Not the way you think I do.” He frowned, upper lip turning up at you. You hated that your heart dropped at that, but you wouldn’t let him see; wouldn’t let him know. If he thought of you as just a friend and his partner, you were happy to fill that role. As long as you could be beside him in some way.

“You don’t like my double chin?” You huffed childishly and he smiled, rolling his eyes at you.

“Get up and shower, woman. Come watch a show with me.”

He left the door way, leaving the door wide open in what you deemed a power move and you groaned, loud enough for him to hear, before dragging yourself from your bed and to the bathroom.

By the time you were both ready to go and making your way down to your car you were practically foaming at the mouth at the thought of food. You were so hungry you’d eat your own left foot if that’s what it took. Yoongi was silent most of the drive, and though this wasn’t exactly strange for him, it did make you wonder what was on his mind.

The crickets were already when you’d arrived and you closed the car door softly, clicking the lock into place. You moved slowly to where Yoongi stood beside the car, staring up at the sky, dusk settling on the horizon.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly.

His gaze lowered to yours, smiling soft and shaking his head. “Nothing really.” His eyes focused in on the spring dress you’d chosen to wear; black and yellow with blooming sunflowers. “You look really pretty, by the way. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you in something like this before.”

He reached out to twist the fabric of your dress softly between his fingers and you heated at the praise; suddenly self-conscious. “Thank you, Yoongi. That’s very kind of you.”

He looked as awkward as you felt so you resumed your walk towards your parent’s home. It was quiet outside, but windows were open, the smell of a hundred dinners wafting out into the evening; a tantalizing temptation from every door.

Yoongi waited with you as you stood outside your parent’s door. If he was nervous to be here, you couldn’t tell, but you were certainly nervous enough for the both of you. Growing up, you’d never brought a guy around, you couldn’t have even if you’d wanted to.

You were the baby in your family with a gap of 6 years between you and your brother Andreas. A surprise, your parents liked to call you. Andreas and Gael in particular liked to baby you. When you were in high school they would stand outside your school waiting for you at the end of each day, flanking you on either side so that no boys would come near you.

They were tall and buff and it was no shocker that no one wanted to be anywhere close enough to date you. It had made you cry tears of frustration on more occasion than one, but your brothers always said that they knew how guys minds worked and there was no way they were trusting them their baby sister.

Now you were an adult and they were both married with children, they had better things to do than to stand outside your place of work and swat away all prospective suitors. In fact, these days your family seemed more concerned that you hadn’t found a man than the other way around.

The door flung open, your aunt beaming wide and throwing her arms around you with wild enthusiasm. “You must be Yoongi!” She smiled, pulling him into the hug and you could feel him go rigid against your back. This was certainly not what he was expecting.

“Oh, we have been waiting so long for this day! Everyone, Y/N brought a man to dinner!” She called loudly into the house and your family cheered.

You wanted to die. “Theía! I told you, Yoongi is my partner at work.”

“No reason he can’t be more.” She smiled, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as she closed the door behind the two of you and dragged you further into the house. “Has anyone ever told you that you would make incredibly beautiful babies, Yoongi?” She asked and you wanted to melt straight into the floor.

Yoongi was clearly a masochist because he smirked at you before turning his gaze back to your aunt. “Actually, I haven’t heard that before, but I agree. I’ve got really great genes to pass on.”

“Stop feeding the troll, Yoongi.” You griped and your aunt swatted at you.

“Don’t be rude, I’m only asking for you. I’m thinking about you, hmm?” She scolded and you sighed, running your hand across her shoulder to pull her into your side.

“Let me worry about it, OK?”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Yoongi drawled and he had a looked that spelled trouble. You suddenly hated his guts. “I think your aunt is right, we’d make really beautiful babies together.”

“See!” Your aunt cried happily and you could see Palma smiling into her cup from behind her. Gael was giving you an obnoxiously enthusiastic thumbs up from over by the table and your mom looked like she actually thought she would be getting another grand baby soon.

“I’ll actually kill you, Yoongi.” You grit and he laughed, pinching at your cheek.

“Yoongi, nice to see you again.” Your uncle greeted, coming to shake his hand. “Let’s sit and eat, we can continue this baby talk later. Y/N looks like she’ll die soon if we don’t.”

“Thank you, theíos.” You squeezed his shoulder gently, making your way into the dining room and sitting down, Yoongi right beside you.

Palma was giving you a look that you could read all too well and you pointedly ignored her. She could bombard you later through text if she wanted to ask about your partner. You were already mortified enough as it was.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Yoongi mumbled, eyeing the spread of food and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Wait until you try it. My mom and her sisters learned how to cook from their mom and she was amazing! I remember when she would come to see us, she’d make the most incredible food; real comfort food. Creamy and warm, I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

You watched Yoongi eagerly load up his plate, chatting amiably with your brother who sat across from him and you filled your own plate with all your favorites, practically inhaling everything as soon as if hit your plate. You hummed happily, dancing a little in your seat as you ate and Yoongi glanced at you with a smile.

“Happy?”

“Oh yeah.” You nodded, stuffing feta and cucumber into your mouth and chewing happily.

“So, Y/N,” your mom called from the end of the table and you nodded your attention. “Have you and Yoongi ever thought about dating?”

Globs of feta lodged in your lungs as you inhaled sharp and you spluttered into your napkin, coughing and wheezing as Yoongi patted your back, handing you a glass of water. “What?” you gasped, eyes watering as you looked at your mother.

“The two of you? Have you ever thought about getting together?”

“Mom!” You complained loudly as the table chorused her opinion, “he’s my partner and my friend!”

“Fine line between friendship and love, Y/N.” Your father supplied, sending a kiss to your mother at the opposite side of the table from him. “You know your mother and I met in school as friends. What could be better than making a family with a friend?”

“Please can we stop talking about this?” You cried.

“They mean well,” your sister smiled and you looked at her, frowning.

“You’re not allowed to be on their side, Palma. You know how this feels. He’s sitting right here.” You grunted, pointing your thumb at Yoongi who was currently shoving a fist sized amount of food into his mouth.

He looked over at you, eyebrows wiggling and you grimaced. “Chew your food, you animal.”

“Lovers quarrel!” Gail hooted and you were pretty sure you could see the light at this point because you were positive you were about to die.

“You always complain you’re too busy, you never have time to meet anyone,” your mom whined, “but you’re with Yoongi all the time, there’s no better opportunity.”

“Relationships are not about convenience, mom.” You sighed.

“No, but they should be built on friendship and mutual respect and you’ve already got that.” Your father insisted.

“We could be magical together.” Yoongi crooned and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You’re giving them hope.”

“I’ve got nothing but hope.” He insisted with a grin.

“What’s the harm in giving it a try?” Your mother asked, waving her arms enthusiastically. “Yoongi seems OK with it.”

“OK, let’s say we start dating and it doesn’t work out. We still have to work together every day in a lot of life or death cases and we don’t need that extra tension.”

“So you’re saying there’s already tension?” Gael grinned and you scowled.

“Drop the subject everyone. Talk about something else, seriously. This is really weird and inappropriate. Talking to me about my love life is one thing, but not like this. This is not OK.” You scolded.

“Fine, fine, fine.” Your mother accepted, sufficiently cowed for now and the topic moved on to something new. You could barely concentrate on conversation at this point. You were angry, embarrassed, and afraid to even look at your friend.

He’d taken everything in his stride, but Yoongi was the type to use comedy when he was uncomfortable…you couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking.

By the time dinner was over you were mentally exhausted from trying to avoid all embarrassing conversations. To Yoongi’s credit, he didn’t seem phased at all. You were grateful he was so levelheaded.

“Want a glass of wine?” He asked as you made your way back into your apartment, dropping your purse by the door.

“Yes please.” You mumbled, following him to the kitchen.

“I don’t actually know where you keep your wine glasses.” He said, pulling a bottle of red from on top of the fridge.

You moved quickly to the other side of the kitchen, pulling some glasses down from the cabinet and he took them from you, moving towards the table to pour you both a glass.

“Cheers.” He said, clinking his glass against yours before taking a sip. You were halfway through your glass before you had enough liquid courage to say anything to him.

“I am so sorry about my family.” You mumbled, staring down into your glass. “They’re so embarrassing.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything for a moment and you wanted to shrink into yourself the longer he stayed silent. What must he think of you? They were practically auctioning you and your empty womb off to him; he must think you’re so desperate. Yoongi sighed and you looked up at him as he shrugged, “it’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

“It is!” You insisted, “it’s one thing for them to do this to me privately, I’ve dealt with it for years…but to drag you into it without really getting your say. It’s like a verbal hostage situation. You didn’t sign up for that. I’m sorry if you felt uncomfortable.”

“I did feel uncomfortable,” he admitted, swirling the last of his wine around his glass, “but not for the reasons you think.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, clutching your glass to your chest like a barrier.

“I just never realized the idea of being with me was so repulsive to you.” He sighed, “It’s not like I wouldn’t be interested, but what I want doesn’t really change things. You need two yeses or it’s always a no.”

You paused, face twisting in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“I’m just saying. Your dad is right, love and relationships should be built off of friendship and we’ve already got that part. I wouldn’t be opposed to trying and seeing where things go, but you’ve always made it fairly clear that you don’t think the same way. It’s not a big deal, life moves on.”

You laughed; breathless. “You think I’d turn you down?”

“Obviously.” He said, jaw ticking as it clenched.

“That’s ridiculous.” You scoffed, “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Really?” He asked, eyebrow rising into the hair draped over his forehead, messy from the brush of his fingers. “So if I kissed you, you wouldn’t freak out?”

He was challenging you; you could see it in his eyes and that smirk quirking the corner of his lips. Like he didn’t believe you actually meant what you said. He linked his finger into the neck of your dress, pulling you dangerously close to him, nose bumping yours gently before stopping.

The room was stuffy with energy, a little too warm for your liking but it was too early in the season to turn on the air conditioning. Yoongi’s dark eyes peered curiously into yours, a silent question as he tilted his head to the side.

“This is an interesting game of chicken.” You breathed.

“It’s not a game to me.” He mumbled, eyes darting across your features, noses dangerously close to bumping again.

“I dare you.” You whispered.

He smiled, nose scrunching before closing the distance and all you could taste was him. His mouth was warm against yours, soft in its perusal of the shape of your lips; careful in its inquiries. You thread trembling fingers through the tufts of raven hair at the back of his head, breathing him in.

He tasted like cheap wine and he pulled you from your chair and into his lap, kisses deepening with his breath. This was better than you could have dreamed up; your fingertips alight with the rough of his sweater as you moved from his shoulders and down his arms.

Your fingers dragged across his abdomen and up to his chest and he shivered. “Sensitive.” You mused against his pout and he sent you a glare before pulling you back into him by the back of your head.

Your hand smoothed carefully down the center of his back as you clung to him and he whined, pulling you even closer and your eyebrow quirked in curiosity at what stirred between the two of you.

You pulled back slightly, sending a look down before glancing back at him and biting your lip. “Interesting.”

“It’s more than interesting and I can prove it…if you want.” He breathed, watching your reaction carefully.

“I love an adventure.” You grinned and he stood with your legs wrapped around him, making his way towards your bedroom.

“You mentioned handcuffs last week, right?” He asked, pausing in your doorway. Your eyebrow jumped and he smirked, nosing at the skin just below your ear. “I might need them.” He whispered, pushing through to your bedroom and kicking the door closed behind him.

The shrill screech of your alarm woke you suddenly and you flailed, arm reaching towards your bedside table to turn it off.

“Why does your alarm sound like an axe murderer?” Yoongi groaned from beside you, rubbing a hand down his face and you jumped. He was bare chested and the blanket around his waist left little to the imagination. Not that you needed imagination anymore.

Like a tidal wave, all memories from last night came rushing back in. You were mortified. Yoongi was now uncomfortably familiar with everything about you; every nook and cranny of your body, like it was his secret to keep. The sounds and faces you make now his intimate companions. You felt like you were being engulfed in flames of shame.

“We’re gonna be late for work.” You murmured, pulling your sheet to shield your body and standing up, racing to the bathroom.

Once locked in the bathroom you dropped the sheet, surveying yourself in the mirror and you groaned softly. At least it wasn’t too warm yet; wearing a turtleneck wouldn’t be completely unreasonable. You quickly stepped into the shower, taking your time lathering the soap as you wondered if Yoongi had left your room yet.

You weren’t lying when you said you were going to be late for work. You had three different types of alarms to wake you up before work and the shrill screech of the alarm that woke you this morning was the last resort alarm.

You rushed through your morning routine before peeking back into your bedroom to make sure the coast was clear. You grabbed a pair of black slacks and a white turtle neck, dressing quickly and pulling on some shoes, before grabbing your bag and making your way out into the kitchen.

“I’ll be in the car!” You called, not bothering to wait for a reply as you rushed from the apartment and to the elevator. You weren’t sure what to say to Yoongi now; you felt like you’d been such an idiot last night. You weren’t drunk by any means, you’d really only had one glass, but alcohol always loosened you up to the point of bad decision making and now you had to live with the consequences.

Having an intimate knowledge of someone left a lot of vulnerability and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking of you now. Did he think you were easy, were you only a conquest? Could you still be friends? Would you still work well together? You felt sick, pressing the garage level button and feeling yourself sink with the elevator.

You waited in the car, anxiety curling your fingers tight around the steering wheel. Why didn’t you think of the morning after last night? You were awkward at the best of times and today was going to be a royal nightmare.

You watched as Yoongi left the elevator, moving towards where you were parked and distracted by the fastening of his watch. He too was dressed in dark slacks and had donned a white sweater and you blanched at the thought of looking like you were wearing couples clothes.

He pulled open the door, sliding in beside you and slipping on his seatbelt before returning to the fastening of his watch. You left the garage in silence, shoulders high and tight. You weren’t sure what to say, should you even bring it up at all? Maybe it was just better to pretend that it never even happened.

By the time you’d parked and made your way up into the office, you felt like you were about to lose it. People had to be kidding themselves if they thought sleeping with a friend wouldn’t change the relationship. It changed everything.

Yoongi sat down at his desk, turning on his computer and checking voicemails. You slipped your bag from your shoulder, sliding carefully into your seat and staring at the black of your computer screen. What if you’d ruined everything? What if you couldn’t work together anymore? You sighed, closing your eyes as you felt a headache coming on before bending over to switch on your own computer.

“Hey,” Yoongi called and you looked over at him. He had his phone perched between his ear and shoulder and was looking directly at you. “Forensics has got something for us. Let’s go check it out.”

You nodded as he hung up, standing and walking with him towards the elevator. Silence prevailed on the ride up but you tried not to let it bother you; tried to ignore the obvious tension. Yoongi seemed calm and that helped ease your shoulders a little. Maybe it wasn’t as serious as you thought it was. That’s what you’d tell yourself for now, anyway.

You swiped your badge at the door, where Diana was waiting for the two of you, smile ready. “Morning.” She greeted, motioning for you to follow her to her desk. “Here’s the paperwork you’re gonna need.”

“What did you find?” Yoongi asked, flipping the envelope open and you peered over his shoulder into the file.

“Hair and skin from your victim embedded in the bat. Looks like you got your guy.”

You grinned at Yoongi, his own excitement palpable as he snapped the folder closed. “Let’s go get him.”

Mr. Grant groaned as he opened the door to his apartment, rolling his eyes. “Here to search me again?”

“Not quite.” Yoongi said, “Turn around, please.”

Mr. Grant huffed a laugh, turning around and sliding his hands behind his back. You stepped forward, placing the hand cuffs around his wrists. “Timothy Grant you are under arrest for assault and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”

“I want a lawyer.” Mr. Grant scoffed, “you’ve got nothing on me. I didn’t even do anything.”

“We’ll see about that.” You smiled, leading him towards the squad car. After the other officers had taken him for booking, both Yoongi and you made your way back to the office, high off adrenaline.

“The vic is still in a coma,” Yoongi remarked as he drove, “but the doctors said they’re seeing positive signs of improvement.”

“Good.” You murmured, stepping from the car. “That family has been through hell.”

The air conditioning of the office was a welcome relief. It was definitely too hot to be wearing a turtleneck, but there was no way you could wear anything else. Especially not around the man who’d wreaked so much havoc on the skin of your neck and clavicle. Even the thought of it was mortifying.

You tugged at the neck of your sweater, fanning yourself with one hand. “Why are you even wearing that?” He asked, looking over at you and you glared at him.

“I think you know why.”

He looked smug.

You turned to your computer, sifting through messages you’d gotten since yesterday. The very last one caught your eye; with a timestamp of 2:45am blinking in red. The subject read “In reference to your cold case” and you clicked on it instantly.

“Yoongi, look at this!” You said, waving him over. He slid his chair over by yours, leaning forward to read your email.

“A new witness?” He murmured and you nodded excitedly.

“It says she’s been living out of the country for years and just got back in town. We need to call her.” You grabbed the phone from its cradle, dialing the number left in the email and Yoongi lounged beside you as you waited. “Hello, is this Ms. Russo? Hi, my name is Detective Y/N, I just read your email. Do you happen to have any time to come in today? Yes, an hour would be fine. Ok, great, see you then!”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows at you, lounged all the way back in his chair. “She coming in?”

“In an hour.” You nodded. “This might be the thing that breaks the case.”

“Let’s not get our hopes up too high, though. Healthy expectations, right?” He said, sliding his chair back to his desk and you nodded with a pout.

“Yeah, I know.”

Ms. Russo arrived an hour later; a young woman in her mid-twenties with long dark hair, curling at the ends and deep, dark brown eyes searching the room as she clutched the purse on her shoulder. You greeted her, inviting her to sit with you in the interrogation room, Yoongi already sat waiting with the cold case file.

“Thank you so much for coming in. We were so excited to hear you had information for us, this case has been so daunting.” You said as Ms. Russo sat across from you, setting her purse beside the leg of her chair.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. My family moved away when I was young and I didn’t really have the means of coming back until now. At the time it didn’t seem like I knew anything important, but I don’t think that’s so true.” She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, fastening her fingers together and looking over at her.

“How did you and Ms. Loft know each other?” Yoongi inquired, flipping open the case file.

“We were best friends.” Ms. Russo said, “She was a couple years older than me, but we lived on the same street almost our entire lives so we grew up really close.”

“In your email you said you had something for us?” You asked and she nodded, reaching into her bag and pulling out an envelope.

“I received this letter about a month ago, just before I moved back here. It’s from her.” You paused, staring down at the letter and you could see her eyes filling with the emotions of years of unanswered questions. “Emily was not the type to run away. I know her; she would never do that. Her parents were strict, but she didn’t resent them for that. Her younger brother died in an accident when we were all kids. It changed them. She would have never done anything to cause more pain, you need to know that.”

She wiped at her cheeks as tears fell, her breath shuddering before she continued. “The day that Emily went missing is the day my family moved. We were taking a taxi to the airport and I saw her out the window, a few blocks from where we lived. She was talking to some guy, but I didn’t recognize him. The conversation seemed tense, but they were across the street from where our taxi was so I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to call out to her to say goodbye, but she didn’t hear me. Just before we drove around the corner, I saw him grab her arm and start pulling her, but then I didn’t see anything else. I was so naïve at the time, but I just figured he was a friend and they were having a fight. I should have insisted we go get her. I didn’t know.”

She passed the letter across the table and with gloved fingers, you picked it up, opening carefully. “This is not your fault.” You insisted, looking over at her, her eyes bloodshot already.

“She’s been forced into prostitution,” She remarked softly, pointing at the letter in your hands, “she’s been waiting for the day they trusted her enough to give her a little privacy and she managed to send that letter. It went to my old house, but somehow it got rerouted to my parent’s place. I don’t know how, it was like a miracle. She gives a lot of details about her circumstances, but she also gives some really good information on where she’s located. Please find her.”

“Do you remember what the man looked like? The one who grabbed her?” You asked and she frowned, staring down at the table.

“It’s been almost 11 years, certain details are foggy, but I remember enough to give you a general description.”

“Would you be willing to do that for our sketch artist and write a statement of everything you saw?”

“Of course.”

While Ms. Russo worked with the sketch artist you sat with Yoongi, reading over the letter. All this time, people just assumed she’d run away. She could have been saved from this. You wanted to cry from the frustration; too many people had written her off, just assumed she was a troubled young woman.

You couldn’t even imagine what her life had been like, the sorrow her parents would feel when they found out. To lose two of their three children was already more than they could bare, you were not looking forward to sharing these new details.

You hoped that at least they would feel hope that she could still be recovered. Best case scenario, she could be found and go into recovery with years’ worth of therapy. She was likely addicted to drugs and would need a lot of help.

Sometimes you still wondered why you’d chosen this career path; the depravity of humanity made you feel so angry and empty.

Knowing you can make a difference in people’s lives, though…saving people from situations they can’t get out of themselves. That’s what drove you to keep going. “What are you thinking about?” Yoongi asked softly and you glanced over at him, perched beside you along the side of your desk.

“Emily.” You sighed, folding the letter and sliding it back into its evidence bag. “I wish things could have been better for her. Different.”

He nodded, watching as Ms. Russo directed the artist to tweak something in his drawing. “Life isn’t fair, Y/N.” He sighed, “The only thing we can do is make the moments we have worthwhile.”

You nodded, humming an affirmative as you stared back down at the envelope. “Yeah.”

Later that evening, after Ms. Russo had left and evidence had been sent off to the lab, you stretched, lethargic, in your chair as Yoongi stood from his own, groaning and rubbing at the small of his back.

“I was thinking,” he yawned, “what if I order delivery tonight? We can celebrate with the rest of the wine from yesterday and just relax, enjoy our success.”

“That sounds really nice, actually.” You smiled, standing from your own desk and slinging your bag across your shoulder. It was unreasonably heavy at this time of night, but the idea of warm food you didn’t have to cook called you outside to your car.

The evening was warm and you tugged at the neck of your sweater, a little sweaty after a long day but too tired to mind. The sun had set by now and the world felt still as you made your way towards the car, unlocking the doors and throwing your bag in the back seat.

The wind rushing was your soundtrack as you drove with the windows down. Yoongi had reclined his head, arm out the window and he looked the picture of calm. You wondered if he’d fallen asleep; wondered what his thoughts were about last night, if it was still on his mind like it was yours.

It was easy to brush those thoughts away with the distraction of work, but now in the silence of your car all your questions returned, loud and obnoxious, bouncing around in your brain. He was calm, silent, and aside from asking about your sweater earlier, hadn’t made any mention of anything to do with what happened. You couldn’t help but wonder if you just needed to take a page from his book and relax.

Once you’d made it back to your apartment, you pulled out all the delivery menus for him and told him to get whatever. You needed another rinse off after a long day anyway so you would trust that he knew what to order.

Your bedroom was just as you’d left it; a reminder of the evening you’d spent in Yoongi’s arms. Your clothes from last night were still spattered around the room and you picked them up slowly, dumping them in your hamper. His shirt from yesterday was still draped across the chair by the window and you picked it up, staring at it absentmindedly.

You wondered if you could return it to him without it being weird. You sighed again, dropping it back onto the chair before heading to the shower to rinse off. By the time you were out and dressed in your pajamas, the food had just arrived and your stomach growled eagerly as Yoongi tossed you a pair of chopsticks.

“Chinese takeout?’ You questioned, sitting in the love seat while he dominated the middle of your couch.

“I was craving egg rolls.” He hummed.

You dug in eagerly, groaning happily as you chewed. Yoongi looked up at you with a smile before allowing his eyes to trace the skin of your neck that you’d left bare. You were suddenly self-conscious, acutely aware of just how much of your neck was marked by his mouth.

You hadn’t thought of it when you were dressing, only the doorbell as the food arrived and the growling of your stomach. You shifted awkwardly, taking a big bite of a dumpling and Yoongi looked down at his food, chuckling.

“You don’t have to make it weird, you know?” He commented and you glanced up at him, eyebrows rising. “Don’t stress about it, we can label things or we can just be casual, whatever. I don’t regret last night, though.”

“You don’t?” You whispered and he shook his head, spooning a mouthful of fried rice as distraction.

“Do you?” He queried, looking up at you.

“No. I just didn’t know how you felt about it.” You admitted, pushing some of the food around your plate. You could feel his eyes on you, but you weren’t brave enough to meet them yet. “I don’t regret it, though.”

“Good. Then so far, we’re on the same page.” The two of you allowed silence to lapse for a few moments as you ate, quiet but content. “I started thinking about what your mom said.”

“Huh?”

“Last night, what she said about friendship and love and what not. Felt weird to be talking about that last night in reference to us because it was like all my secrets were suddenly out. I figured that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to say something. If it was really just me feeling this way then at least I’d know where I stood.”

“It’s not just you.” You whispered, smiling shy as you grabbed some chow mein noodles to drop on your plate.

“Come here.” He mumbled, reaching out for you, pulling you into his side, thighs touching and his fingers danced across your waist, tugging you close. “Whatever you want this to be, let’s do that. I’m happy as long as you are.”

Your hip burned where he touched and you picked up a water chestnut, popping it into your mouth and chewing idly. “I’ve always been one for knowing where I stand in a relationship.”

“Like dating?” He asked and you nodded softly. “Then tie me down, baby.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, “you do realize this means my family is going to really start asking when you’re gonna put a baby in me, right?”

Yoongi grinned wolfishly, running the tip of his nose down yours, leaning in for a kiss that took the air right out of your lungs. “We’re gonna need a little more practice before that,” he teased, fingers dancing at the back of your scalp, “gotta make sure I really know how to shoot the shot.”

You laughed, scandalized. “Practice makes perfect.” You agreed, leaning in to kiss him again and he returned the affection eagerly.

“First, I’ve gotta finish these egg rolls though. They’re incredible; definitely pin this take out place to the fridge.”

You laughed, watching him bite into another egg roll, moaning as he chewed. He looked over at you and down at your nearly forgotten plate. “You’d better eat up, baby, you’re gonna need your energy.” He smirked.

“You talk a big game.” You grinned, filling your plate with more food.

“Only because I know I can back it up.”

“I look forward to it.” You winked.

****

I hope you enjoyed and I look forward to hearing from you! <3

#yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #btsbookclub

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