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mrs-weasley-reid · 2 days ago

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PRETTY FACE

bau team x liaison!reader

Synopsis: As the BAU's communications liaison—with a pretty face—you're in charge of peace. But what happens when you're not feeling so peaceful? Word count: 2.2k WARNING: fluff. but also fem rage lol. a few curses. not proofread oopsie A/N: I'm still rusty, so sorry, my lovelies (; _ ;) but I tried my best I promiseeeee. I missed writing so much <3 let me know what you think!

Three years.

Three years of grueling hours. Three years of sweat and hidden tears. Three years of nonstop compensation for multiple skills you aren't born with.

You take pride in your work. You show up. You follow through.

It's no secret. No surprise. You're a beaut, and you don't feel shy. It's normal. So be damned if you curse the parents who gave you such wonderful genetics.

But that does not make you just pretty.

If anything, it just makes your learned skills, strong will, and assertiveness much more credible. You're not just beauty, but also brains and brawn.

With that in mind, one shall have the mature intelligence to understand the itch on your palms to smack the shit out of the man right before your eyes.

"We told you that I'll be taking care of the media." You start as you follow behind the local precinct's detective. Might as well call it chasing. He's been walking around like you're a fly he's been trying to ward off.

"Like I said, Miss—" He says that to diminish you. To make you smaller. He ignores the fact. He can't grasp the idea. The truth. That you're not just a pretty face. "—The press was there. I didn't know they were going to ask questions that can make things worse." Oh, yes, he did. A liar. And a bad one, too.

That is exactly why the plan is solid. To have you right on the podium, fighting the urge to blink from the flashes. The plan is preventative. To keep the UnSub from thinking that they are winning.

You manage to keep your eyes from rolling, subtly grinding your teeth. "And we made the plan for that certain reason. I'm used to questions that we have to avoid. I'm more skilled in—"

"Are you saying I'm incapable? That you're better than me?"

His voice rises. Loud enough to shut the entire precinct up. Loud enough to get your team's attention. To prompt judgment and, worse, to make you seem weak.

"You're twisting my words, Detective. I'm telling you what I'm trained for and why we're making use of that advantage." It's simple. It's clear. A grade school level of intelligence can understand just what you said.

But the issue remains the same.

You can't teach someone to fish if their goal is to hunt.

"Listen, doll face. I'm not going to let my city live in false hope by some chick."

If the silence isn't deafening enough, his words are. They exploded like a bomb made to leave you into fine dust.

Three years.

Three years of constant backlash to the idea that a communications liaison can do more than just pick up the phone and connect two vessels of justice into one.

That's why you chose to stay in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They give you the freedom to do your job. They aren't filled with cheap people who'll mansplain as simple as using a copier.

Three years, and you learned a lot. You learned your role and their role. You learned how to read, observe, and listen.

So, you know just how much the team filters you from violence. You know how much the BAU team expects less from you when it comes to battling UnSubs. Or going against prideful local detectives, police officers, and more.

You knew, but you didn't mind. Because despite that, you knew they cared for you dearly. Respected the hard work you put in. Wanted your job to be as easy as possible.

Today, however, is a different story. You're not about to let the team fight your battle. Not when it's with a guy like him. Not when you know damn well how crucial the case is. Not when you're more than some chick he tries to insist you as.

As usual, Hotch is about to step in when gasps echo throughout the room. He stopped in his tracks, bolting his feet on the tiled floor. Maybe even wide-eyed.

Swift.

One swift pull on the detective's tie and the height difference between the two of you shifts. You glower at him as if it’s a crime to be the type of person that he is. And in the back of your mind, you agree.

He's sitting on a chair now. Your left foot is between his thighs. The point of your heels sits three inches from his crotch like a gun to his sorry proof of manhood.

And even with the stretch, you're nowhere looking lewd despite wearing a skirt. Emily thinks you look badass. Her wide grin can testify to that.

"It's Agent." You announce softly. So soft that the back of Derek's neck shivers in fear. "And if it weren't for this chick's team, another dead body would’ve made your city much, much worse."

Fire spreads inside your body. Rage seeps in. A strong rope that finally snaps.

“Should we stop the kid?” Rossi asks lowly without batting an eye. He’s worried that if he blinks, you’ll turn into a criminal he can’t bear to catch.

Hotch only shakes his head in response. Nonetheless, he moves one step every five seconds. Steadily approaching a lion to tame her. It’s not that he thinks you need taming. It’s the fact that he has no idea how to. You’ve never snapped before. The team is at a loss for words.

The grip you have on the detective’s tie can easily choke him then and there. But one thing you're great at is control.

Terrifying control, that is.

"So unless you cooperate, I'm not afraid to pack up and pull us off this messy case." You lightly tug him closer. You watch as a bead of sweat run down the side of his face. "And if you think you can drag our hands into the mud. You'll have your hands dirty all by yourself, because I'm damn great at keeping ours clean. Do I make myself clear, Detective?"

No one’s ever thought it’s possible to mock a worthy title such as detective, but you’re as shocked as everybody else.

How far can your beauty get you? The answer is nowhere, but he doesn’t need to know that. He's already too busy blinding himself from the fact that you're not just that. What more is tricking him into thinking it can get you farther?

A light hand lands on your shoulder. You turn to find Rossi with an unreadable expression. It's his way to pull you back to reality, to calm you down.

Hotch reaches for your hand on the detective's tie. "I think he understands," He insists. Stern but not harsh. More of a plea if you had to say so yourself.

Then, again, he’s always been confident with his words that most of them turn into law, which the entire team abides by without question.

Your hand lets go of the tie, blinking as if you’d been possessed, overwhelmed with rage. Tension dissipates from your body. The furrowed brows on your forehead finally separate.

"JJ and Morgan are going back to the dump site. Go with them."

An order.

Cool off, then we’ll talk later. That’s what Hotch meant, and you know it by heart, considering the amount of times you heard him utter the same words to the team.

It’s first for you, though. So it stings. Embarrassing, for lack of a better word. Part of you knew it was coming. It’s not you to step over a line you know you’re not allowed to cross. Still, it doesn’t change the suffocating feeling in your chest.

You nod and turn around. Your fists clench so tight crescent indentations sting your palms. Even Rossi's gentle tap on your back didn't make you feel better.

You'd done it.

You broke their trust.

Who are you to say those things anyway? You're just a communications liaison. You have no power.

You can’t even bear to look up ahead to where the others stood. You're afraid that the indifferent looks on their faces will be the final blow.

Despite that, another feeling brews. It creeps right from the marrow of your bones.

Disappointment.

A feeling so familiar you can’t bear to feel it at all. Not when it comes to the team. Not when it comes to the people you find comfort with.

The detective coughs loudly as if you really did choke him to death. "You better control your liaison, Agent Hotchner. It’s not a good look to have someone rogue in the FBI." He demands. A snide comment about the team’s power. He’s been intimidated from the start, and he chose you to relieve himself of any jealousy that runs in his blood.

What a wimp, you thought. And unbeknownst to you, your team did too.

"Sorry," Your ears perk as soon as it comes out of Hotch's mouth. "I don't control the person that keeps my hands clean. If anything, I give them soap."

You're out of the door before you can even hear more, getting into the driver's seat without realizing your tight grasps on the wheel.

"Remind me never to piss you off," Derek immediately implores as he sits on the passenger seat next to you. “I’m glad I don’t wear neckties that often.”

Tears uncontrollably fill your eyes and soon enough trail down your cheeks. The adrenaline finally crashes down, and you're back to the realization of what just transpired.

You feel JJ's arms around you despite being in the backseat, "Thank you for being there for us. I know how hard it is to be in your position."

And the sobs come second. "Oh, my gosh! I almost choked a detective. What am I supposed to do? I’m just a liaison. I’m going to jail or something." You cry in almost inaudible tangents, earning a chuckle from the other two, to your dismay. “And did Hotch just make a joke about giving me soap? What does that even mean?” You think you’re going insane. Laughing and crying at the same time like a lunatic.

“Yeah, I think he likes that one lemon scent you brought in the kitchenette,” JJ adds, rubbing your side to calm your senses down. There’s a motherly feeling in the way she tries to comfort you, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Derek grabs your hand and places a small tissue pouch. “Listen here, Agent.” He smirks proudly. “You’re not just a liaison. You’re our liaison. The behavioral analysis unit’s communications liaison. You’ve worked more than what your job description says. None of us would be here if you didn’t show up. Do you have any idea how many times the group almost fell apart when JJ left us? Left the role empty? This team needs you.” He ruffles your hair, to which you're quick to swat before grabbing a napkin.

Sobbing in front of the team is a first, too. Albeit just JJ and Derek with you, it feels like all the members somehow know you’re crying like a child, too.

A phone ring momentarily distracts the three of you. Emily’s name flashes on JJ’s phone. She waves it with a knowing look before putting the call on speaker.

“Yes, Emily?” JJ answers as if to inform Emily that the three of you can hear her.

“[I’m gonna need pointers how to get a man in line.]” Emily starts, clearly talking to you. Though, you don't think she needs any pointers.

“Is that for self-defense or some freaky stuff?” Derek playfully interjects, grinning at the sight of the screen.

You can hear the way Emily rolls her eyes despite not seeing her at all, “[Wouldn’t you like to know, you dog.]” Laughter erupts inside the van. “[Also, I think Reid’s traumatized for life. He’s clearing out the table from all his folders, something about our liaison asking him to stop hogging the table.]”

The tears stop, then. You shake your head while you wipe under your eyes. “I can’t believe I did something stupid. I’ll have to write a report about this.” You groan, leaning against the headrest.

"If you ask me, I have no idea what you're talking about.” Derek shrugs nonchalantly.

JJ nods, “You're going to sound crazy if you add that to your report because none of us wants our hands dirty." She bites her lower lip to sound more serious, but it doesn’t help her at all.

“[Oh, guys, here’s Hotch.]” Emily interjects, prompting static from the other end of the line.

Hotch clears his throat, signaling everyone. “[Can you take me off speaker phone for a moment?]” He directs.

JJ passes you her phone, and you step out of the van.

You take a deep breath before attaching the device to your ear, “Hotch? I’m so so—”

“[I’m going to stop you right there, Agent.]” He cuts you off. “[Don’t ever think that defending yourself is a fault. That’s not how I run my—our team.]”

“I know, but I technically assaulted a cop. And technically threatened him.” There’s nothing technical with what happened. You did them exactly as is, and not to be braggy, but you did so with poise and assertiveness.

“[Well, that’s something we can talk about never. I just wanted to give you a formal apology for not stepping in before it even happened. You’re essential to this team. An insult to you is an insult to all of us.]”

It's as if a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You can breathe better. And the embarrassment completely melts off your skin. Better yet, the disappointment with your team downright disappeared.

You shouldn’t have doubted them.

You snap out of your trance when Hotch says your name, “Yeah?”

“[Where do you buy those scented soaps?]”

You bit your lower lip in hopes of keeping your tears from drowning your eyes. You really should’ve known better than to think the team would ever believe you are just a pretty face.

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sabrinajenre96 · 1 month ago

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Legacy and Loyalty

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Detective!Reader (Voight's daughter)

Fandoms: The Rookie x Chicago P.D. (Crossover)

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Mild language, canon-typical mentions of police work, brief mention of past heartbreak (Jay Halstead), protective dad Voight energy, light humor, implied established marriage, surprise reunions

Summary: Five years ago, you left Chicago and the shadow of your past behind for a fresh start in L.A. Now a respected detective, married to grumpy training officer Tim Bradford and part of an elite trio with Harper and Lopez, you’ve built a life you love. But when your father, Sergeant Hank Voight, shows up with members of Intelligence for a joint case, your two worlds collide—and the rookies are in for a shock.

Los Angeles, 8:06 AM

Y/N Voight-Bradford was six minutes late, and for once, it wasn’t her fault.

Kojo, her overly spoiled German Shepherd-mix rescue, had gone full couch-potato mode and refused to budge when she tried to leave for work. Add in a punk who tried to jack her car while she was inside grabbing her morning cappuccino, and she’d already made one arrest before clocking in.

Waltzing into Mid-Wilshire’s briefing room with a hint of dried coffee on her sleeve and a hair out of place, Y/N exhaled and muttered to herself.

“Happy Thursday.”

She pushed the door open.

And froze.

Standing at the front of the room in full command presence: Sergeant Hank Voight, her father.

Flanking him like loyal hounds—Detectives Ruzek, Burgess, and Atwater. Straight from Chicago’s Intelligence Unit, oozing authority and watchfulness.

“Son of a...” she whispered.

Across the room, Nolan, Lucy, and Jackson looked like deer in headlights. Angela raised a brow, clearly amused. Nyla Harper smirked in that “I’ve been in scarier rooms” kind of way. And poor Tim Bradford, her ever-grumpy husband, looked ready to bolt for the exit.

“Sorry I’m late,” Y/N said, setting her cappuccino down on the desk. “Had to arrest a carjacker and argue with a dog.”

Voight turned, steel-eyed but smiling faintly. “Still making a scene everywhere you go?”

Y/N smirked, walked over, and gave him a brief, warm hug. “You’re one to talk.”

The rookies stared in shock.

“You two... know each other?” Lucy finally dared to ask.

Voight turned, expression neutral. “I’m her father.”

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.

“You mean like... biological father?” Nolan blurted.

Y/N turned around, casually sipping her cappuccino. “Shocking, I know. What gave it away? The mutual scowling or the matching death stares?”

“Wait—Voight? As in Voight Voight?” Jackson’s voice cracked.

Ruzek chuckled. “You didn’t tell your team you’re legacy?”

“I told them I came from Chicago,” Y/N shrugged. “Didn’t feel the need to drop the ‘Sergeant Voight is my dad’ bomb right away. Might’ve caused... panic.”

“Too late,” Nolan mumbled.

Angela and Nyla exchanged impressed looks. “She fits right in with us,” Nyla said. “Voight. Lopez. Harper. Elite trio of terrifying women.”

Tim stood and approached Hank, extending a hand. “Sergeant. Good to see you again.”

Hank took it without hesitation. “Bradford. You keeping her in check?”

Tim grunted. “I try. Dog’s worse.”

Before Voight could reply, Smitty barged into the room like he’d just won the lottery.

“Bradford!” he called out. “Someone’s asking for you.”

Tim started to rise.

“No, not you,” Smitty clarified. He pointed straight at Y/N. “Her Bradford.”

Another pause.

Ruzek blinked. “Her Bradford?”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “At work, I go by Voight. I only added ‘Bradford’ in legal files—maiden name stays in the field.”

Atwater’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wait... You married him?”

“Guilty,” Y/N said, raising her hand half-heartedly.

Ruzek turned to Voight, jaw slack. “And you’re okay with this? He’s still breathing?”

Voight gave Tim a firm nod. “Bradford made a good impression. Smart, solid. Doesn't have that savior complex Jay had. Trusts her to handle herself.”

Burgess beamed. “I’m so damn happy for you, Y/N. Seriously.”

Atwater nodded. “We always knew you’d find someone who got you.”

Ruzek gave Tim a playful elbow. “Guess we’ve gotta make room for you at the cool table now.”

Tim sighed. “As long as there’s coffee.”

Voight looked around the room, then fixed his gaze on the rookies still reeling in silence. “Relax. I’m not here to bury anyone.”

Lucy raised her hand slowly. “Just... to clarify. You’re Y/N Voight. Daughter of that Voight. Married to Tim Bradford. You arrested someone this morning. And you have a dog named Kojo who refuses to walk?”

Y/N grinned. “You’ve been paying attention. Good cop instincts.”

Tim looked at her with exasperated affection. “I told you keeping Kojo was a mistake.”

“Too late,” she replied sweetly, walking back to her seat beside him. “He’s family. Like the rest of you weirdos.”

The door closed behind Smitty. Voight stepped up beside Ruzek and clapped his hands.

“Now that family reunions are out of the way—let’s talk about the case.”

#the rookie #the rookie fanfic #chicago pd imagine #Chicago PD crossover the rookie #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fanfiction #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim Bradford x Voight reader

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wildestdreamsblog · 4 months ago

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Latibule Season 2: VIII

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: We actually made it to the last chapter???? I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did!

Masterlist, Latibule 2.VII

“Are you not going to stop them?” You asked in exasperation at the extremely relaxed Kim Seokjin despite the violence you knew was occurring several floors down, or also known as Yoongi’s torture chamber as per Taehyung.

He was staring down at his phone, lounging on the sofa while browsing through expensive baby clothes you knew your son would just grow out of in a few months.

“Does baby Yoongi like pink? I think he’d look dashing and adorable in this,” he asked nonchalantly as he showed you his phone. Meanwhile, you only gave him a blank look. “Ah. Right. I forgot you’re almost a 100% blind. My bad.”

You groaned at the unmovable man in front of you. As soon as Namjoon declared the two of you married, Yoongi softly asked you to take the baby from Hoseok and before you knew it, he punched the aforementioned man too hard that blood trickled down his busted lips. You knew Hoseok was insane, you just didn’t know he was insane enough to laugh at Yoongi while he was dragged down the basement. Namjoon was sighing as he followed them down, together with Jungkook and Jimin.

On the other hand, Kim Taehyung opted to stay here because he claimed that he would only be bored there. He was just sat there on the sofa, intently watching a documentary on poverty. His gaze never wavered from the face of the journalist. You supposed her voice was strong and her way of telling the story was both compelling and evocative.

“What about you, Taehyung? Shouldn’t you stop them?” you implored as you grasp his surprisingly hard arm.

Taehyung didn’t even tear his eyes off the journalist. He pouted as he shook his head. “No, noona. Sorry. I’m busy watching my future-”

“Future what, Taehyung!?” Seokjin suddenly quipped up, his eyes sending daggers of suspicions at the younger man’s direction.

Taehyung blinked owlishly as he turned to his hyung. “Hmm. I haven’t gotten to the part yet. I just know she’ll be in my future.”

“I cannot emphasize this enough, Taetae. But we absolutely do not need another Yoongi in this family who ran rampant when he lost her-” Seokjin said as he pointed at you.

“Then do we need another Namjoon hyung?” he asked innocently.

“You mean that lunatic who relocated his secretary’s ex-boyfriend to the afterlife and claimed their child as his own? No!”

Taehyung nodded thoughtfully, “What about another you, hyung? You know, someone who sabotaged doctor noona’s transfer to other hospitals but still ended up losing her after being together for several months who also moved her to his house one week in dating and now cannot find her and is desperate enough to-”

“Anyway!” Seokjin cut him off before sighing so deep you thought he lived three lifetimes and was already tired of it. “Don’t worry about Hoseok. That bastard is an idiot, but he is also intelligent as fuck. He will come out of it alive. Yoongi just has to make him bleed.”

“But what if he kills him?”

“Then he doesn’t deserve to be a Bangtan if he can’t come out of that alive.”

“Come on, fucker, also known as Satan’s competitor to the throne, is that all you got?” Hoseok asked amidst the busted lips and beaten and bloodied body of his.

Yoongi was not fairing any better. He was just as bruised as Hoseok but the devil didn’t even care. He was smirking even as he got hit by Hoseok, and even laughing loudly as he hit him back.

“He really is crazy,” Namjoon commented as they watched the two beat each other to death. “No. They are both insane.”

“At this rate, they’re going to end up both dead,” he added when a new batch of blood drops on the floor.

Jungkook watched from where he was standing, his eyes following the pair’s movements. Sure, they were both doing this to inflict pain to each other, yet he noticed something peculiar. All of Yoongi’s attacks was to end Hoseok. On the other hand, that man was attacking to just to inflict pain on him. Interesting.

“Shouldn’t we stop them? They’ve been going at it for a while…” Jimin brought up in concern, biting his lower lip. This was a thing that he always did when he was anxious, a habit he never outgrew.

“I should stop th-” Namjoon was about to step forward when Jungkook spoke.

“Let them, hyung.”

“Jungkook!”

The aforementioned man looked at them with his doe eyes. “What? Hoseok hyung deserves to hit Yoongi hyung just as much as he deserves to hit Hoseok hyung.”

“What the fuck is that logic, Jungkook?!” Jimin asked in exasperation as he turned to the youngest.

“Well, Yoongi killed noona-”

The aforementioned man pushed the bloodied Hoseok down to the ground, their breathings hard as he stared down at the Hoseok. “This was the reason?”

Hoseok spat down the blood to the ground before he wiped the side of his mouth. He was now sneering up at Yoongi. “What else would it be, fucker? You killed the only person I love! You ended her when you knew doing so would end me as well! I thought you were my brother! I treated you like one!”

Yoongi scoffed up, his eyes clenched shut. “You fucking idiot,” he whispered. “She was our sister. Why would I fucking kill her?”

“Stop fucking lying, Yoongi!” he screamed as he stood up, facing the man head on with renewed anger in his eyes. “I saw you that night!”

The thing that was the most peculiar was that despite Hoseok’s blazing anger, Yoongi only now reciprocated it with his cold and calm demeanor. “And what exactly did you see?”

13 years ago

The mansion was in chaos.

Everything was on fire.

The war they waged against Seokjin’s father was not without any casualty. The soldiers took sides; the younger ones sided with the mafia prince, as well as those that wanted a change and those that were fed up with the senseless battles the mafia king was leading them on. On the other hand, the traditional and older mafias that were higher in hierarchy didn’t want the change. Why would they want it when they benefited the most from the current leader?

But they underestimated Kim Seokjin. They underestimated the monster they raised.

And that night, as the mafia prince watched the mansion burned down with a satisfied smile on his face, Hoseok was desperately looking for her. He lost track of her amidst the battle. He knew she could hold her own, having trained alongside the brothers. He didn’t doubt her ability. But damn it, he had a bad feeling about it. And so he braved the fire, he braved the unbearable smoke and went inside the blazing mansion.

He just wished the bad omen he was feeling was nothing.

But alas, it was a wishful thinking. He barged into the main office, desperately calling out her name, just in time to see Yoongi pulled a knife from her shoulder. The squelching sound of blood was sickening, the look on her face as she gasped from the pain was a nightmare. The fire illuminated the scene, and the suffocating smoke was thick, curling through the air, choking every breath with its acrid sting.

“Yoongi hyung?” Hoseok asked with a small voice. What…what happened? Why was Yoongi holding the knife?

Yoongi turned to him slowly, looking like the devil he knew he was, the fire surrounding them made him looked like one. The fire emphasized and illuminated the scar in his eye.

“W-what happened, hyung? Did you hurt her?”

“Hoseok.”

Hoseok turned to her and saw tears slipping down her face. It was the face he loved so much. He loved her so much and now she was dying.

“What did you do?” he asked in disbelief, his feet moving before he could even think of the danger. He was so near her, he could have saved her, but the ceiling gave in.

He would have died had Namjoon decided not to follow him.

He would have followed her had Namjoon not pulled him back just in time.

When he woke up in the hospital, he learned that everyone was safe.

Everyone was okay, except her.

Even the fucker Yoongi who was last seen holding her survived. How could he survive when she didn’t?

There were whispers that she was a spy…but surely, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t kill her over mere whispers, right? They grew up together. There was no way in fucking hell that he killed her over it…right?!

Moreover, there was no way she could betray him. She wouldn’t. Hoseok refused to believe she did.

Because if she could easily betray him, that meant that she never truly loved him. Not like he did.

“You know what I saw.”

“But did you know what you really saw that night, Hobi-ah?”

Jungkook turned to Jimin who was listening just as intently as he was. “What mental gymnastics type of shit is hyung saying?”

He was quiet for a moment, and Jungkook would have believed he wouldn’t answer when he finally did. “In this case, I’d like to believe it’s nothing but the naked truth,” Jimin responded, never taking his eyes off the two men. The way Yoongi pulled back when he heard of Hoseok’s belief was enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I saw you. You pulled the knife from her! She bled in front of you. If you didn’t kill her, why then were you the only one that survived when you were with her?!” At that point, Hoseok’s vein was protruding, his words got louder and louder. They never saw him act that way. They never saw him lose control.

They should have known he only let go when it came to her.

Maybe, he should have done this long ago. Maybe then, he wouldn’t house the decade-old hatred he had been feeling in his heart. Maybe then, they could have the brother he used to be.

“So you tried to kill my angel because of that? You tried to kill her. You tried to kill me. And when that wasn’t enough, you stole the life that should have been mine. You stole my son away from me. You did all those things because of that?”

“And those were still not enough to atone for killing her!”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. He turned around, walking away from Hoseok and to the chair before he slumped down on it in weariness. His white shirt was bloodied, and no way was it salvageable. His dark hair was disheveled, and the eye that did not house the scar was shut close from the swelling. He regarded Hoseok for a moment as though deep in thought.

“I agree. Those aren’t enough. You should have done more,” he conceded as he leaned back on the chair.

“Hyung!” Jimin protested.

“Why? He’s right. All those things won’t be enough. If I really killed noona knowing full well that she was the center of this moron’s world, then what he did to me was simply not enough. Right? Oh wait…” he trailed off before a smirk graced his busted lips. “Except that I didn’t kill her.”

“That’s enough, hyung! I saw what happened,” Namjoon quipped, wanting nothing but for all of this to have the conclusion it deserved. Everything was in chaos, and the Bangtan itself was in the brink of collapse if this would not be fixed.

“You saw me pulled the knife. You’re a fucking attorney, right, Namjoon-ah? Then answer me this. Is what you saw conclusive enough for you to decisively say that I put the knife in her?”

“You fucker. What the fuck are you saying?” Hoseok asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t kill her, Hobi-ah.”

“You did!”

Yoongi laughed. He laughed for such a long time before he stood up and calmly walked to the door. He was so relaxed as though he wasn’t trying to kill Hoseok mere moments ago, or that he just didn’t drop another perspective from what Hoseok religiously believed in for the past 13 years. He was to the door when he stopped laughing.

“You know what, now that I think about it…I’m not entirely even sure she’s fucking dead.”

The elevator dinged, announcing Yoongi’s presence.

You were sick in worry. It had only been more than two hours since he dragged Hoseok down, and you felt every ticking second of it. No one would tell you anything. The two men with you were completely useless and they couldn’t have been more disinterested even if they tried to. The hatred between Yoongi and Hoseok was more than a decade deep. From what you gathered over the years, Hoseok was retaliating over something that Yoongi committed. And now, Yoongi was retaliating for what Hoseok did to them.

It was a never-ending cycle. You just hoped that it wouldn’t end with either of them dying for it to stop.

The elevator door opened. Min Yoongi was staggering as he walked to where she was. He was using the walls for support, his other hand clutching his stomach.

He was drenched in blood, his immaculate face covered with bruises and wounds. He was obviously hurt, and yet, the sight of you trembling with tears in your eyes was what pained him more.

“Why are you crying, my angel?” Yoongi asked in concern as soon as he reached you, his hand cupping your face gently as he looked down at you with worry in his eyes. “What happened, my love?”

You grasped his hands, feeling the cuts scattered on them. “Y-you need treatment. You-you’re hurt-”

Yoongi pulled you softly to his chest, encircling your crying form to him securely. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being alive,” Yoongi whispered. “For giving me a family. For existing the time as me. For…loving someone as twisted as me.”

But most of all, he wanted to thank her for coming back to him.

At that time, Yoongi wanted to believe that he did the right thing. Removing noona from Hoseok’s life was what was necessary back then. It was the right thing.

But was it really?

He took the fall for noona’s absence. His naïve, younger self surmised that it was better to not say anything, that his silence was enough. He thought everything would go away with enough time, that Hoseok would eventually move on. He couldn’t have been more wrong. He suffered the consequences.

And you… yousuffered the consequences, too.

He was foolish to think that his love for noona was something that would dwindle in time. That love such as Hoseok’s, or rather, his obsession, was not heavy enough to do all this. But now that he had you, he knew better.

Yoongi was wrong.

“Eomma?”

The events of the day had surely exhausted the toddler. Despite the chaos and Seokjin’s annoyance when Yoongi pushed him out of the penthouse after he treated him, he slept soundly. Now that he was awake, his curious eyes observed his surrounding, taking in the unfamiliar place in silence.

“Hi, my love,” you greeted him, reaching for him. His smell calmed you. You hadn’t seen him for what felt like forever. You wanted his life to be better, for calm to reign for the rest of his life. And yet, you were back to where you started.

All those bad thoughts vanished when he wrapped his little arms around you. “Eomma!” he squealed excitedly. He was giggling as he hugged you when the bedroom door opened.

Yoongi was freshly showered and sported a black cotton shirt and comfortable pants. His hair was damped. He was a confident person, yet when his son turned to look at him, he seemed to not know what to do.

"Eomma, who?" Your son asked, his little lips pouting as he glanced up at you, wide-eyed and full of curiosity. He looked so much like Yoongi when he was younger—his expression, the innocence in his gaze, even the way he furrowed his brow when he didn’t understand something.

You were quiet for a moment until you extended your hand to Suga. It was all he needed. He reached for your hand and sat beside you in the bed. His pale skin was just like his son’s. He wanted to hug the little boy, but he knew he was nothing but a stranger to him.

“That’s appa,” you answered with a smile. Your son tilted his head to the side, the way he always did when he was thinking hard, his brows knitting together in the sweetest frown. Yoongi’s heart clenched at the sight. His son.

"Yoongi, meet Jiwon," you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. You said his name with such tenderness, as if bringing him closer to Yoongi with just the sound of it.

“Jiwon,” he muttered, saying his son’s name for the first time. “Min Jiwon.”

The little boy blinked, still not fully understanding the significance of the man beside him. He regarded Yoongi for a long moment, brow furrowing again, but then a soft smile appeared on his face, the kind of smile only a child could give—pure and uncomplicated.

“Owwie?” Your son asked, pointing at the bruise on Yoongi’s face, his voice filled with concern. The small frown still creased his forehead, a mix of innocence and empathy as he tried to make sense of the man’s injury.

Yoongi smiled, holding the small hand that was pointing at his face.

His son.

He was finally holding his son.

“Not anymore, my son.”

“Owkay I kiss to heal!” he declared earnestly, his face brightening with the simplicity of his gesture, his little lips pressing gently against the wound.

Yoongi froze for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. He couldn’t believe it—this tiny child, this little person who had never known him, was offering him a piece of innocence and love that he didn’t deserve. He had always imagined this moment, but he never could have predicted how much it would pierce through him.

Yoongi blinked, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. He smiled, though the emotions swirled inside him, raw and unspoken. "Thank you, my son," he whispered softly, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Thank you, my wife,” Yoongi looked at you with tenderness in his eyes.

You gave him more than he deserved. You gave him a family.

Yoongi’s eyes snapped open.

It was late, much later than Yoongi had realized. The stillness of the night wrapped around him, the only sound being the steady breathing of his family beside him. He could hear the soft inhale and exhale of your chest, and Jiwon’s tiny, rhythmic breaths between you and him in the bed. It was the first night he had spent with his family, the first night he could legally say that his angel was now lawfully his. A feeling of warmth spread through him as he watched you both sleep soundly, Jiwon nestled safely in the crook of his arm.

It should have been peaceful, this night. It should have been perfect.

But Yoongi’s instincts were screaming at him. A sudden prickle of unease skittered down his spine. Something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

He smelled danger.

Every muscle in his body tensed. He needed to divert the threat, to keep you both safe, no matter the cost. His training kicked in, adrenaline flooding his veins as he silently slid out of bed. Every movement was practiced, swift, calculated. He stepped lightly on the cold floor, his feet making no sound as he crept toward the door.

He could hear it now—three sets of footsteps. Slow, deliberate. They were methodical, careful, but not quiet enough.

Yoongi’s lips curled into a barely perceptible sneer as he made his way to the door. He slipped out into the hallway, his footsteps just as silent. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. It was no different than the shadows of his past—quiet, lurking, hiding danger.

He knew the layout of this place better than anyone else. He had memorized every corner, every blind spot. Crouching down behind the table in the hallway, his hand grazed the knife he had hidden there, the cold steel meeting his palm like a promise.

They had no idea who they were dealing with.

Yoongi exhaled slowly, his heart pounding but steady. His grip tightened around the knife, eyes trained on the shadows at the far end of the hallway. They were still a few steps away, but he knew time wasn’t on his side.

Three men?

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, mixed with a bitter, cynical edge. Who was this asshole who sent only three men to eliminate him? Seriously? Was that supposed to intimidate him? It almost felt like an insult.

The first man rounded the corner, his shadow barely visible in the dim moonlight streaming through the window. Yoongi’s fingers flexed around the knife’s hilt, his breath steady. The man was just a few feet away, and Yoongi knew he couldn’t hesitate.

With a swift motion, Yoongi darted from his hiding place, slamming the knife into the man’s side before he even had a chance to react. The man crumpled to the floor, gasping as Yoongi pulled the knife free with a quiet flick of his wrist. Blood stained the floor, but Yoongi didn’t even flinch.

One down.

The second man was already drawing his weapon, but Yoongi anticipated his movements, lunging forward with lethal precision, using the table as leverage to knock him off balance. The sound of the man’s body hitting the floor echoed in the silent house, and Yoongi was already on top of him, pressing his knee into the man’s chest and twisting his wrist until the gun slipped from his grasp.

Two down.

The last man was quicker, his eyes darting frantically between Yoongi and his fallen comrades. But he was already too late. Yoongi’s hand reached for the gun in his waistband, bringing it up in a single fluid motion as the man tried to raise his own. Yoongi fired once, twice, the shots ringing out sharply in the quiet night. The man’s body jerked with each bullet, before he collapsed, lifeless.

Three down.

Yoongi stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his gaze scanning the hallway. It was over. But the danger wasn’t gone—not yet. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, then slipped the gun back into his holster. His heart was pounding, but his movements were calm as he wiped the knife clean with a cloth.

Quietly, he fished the phone from his pocket and mindlessly took a picture of the scene and sent it to their group chat, prompting for an emergency meeting at the Bangtan’s headquarters. Next thing he did was dialed for Jimin. He knew what to do.

The first to step through the door was Park Jimin, his presence commanding, his eyes scanning the scene with practiced precision. He barely glanced at the bodies on the floor before his gaze locked onto Yoongi, a silent understanding passing between them. Behind Jimin, the rest of the crew filed in—armed, alert, ready to take action. The air thickened with the weight of their presence. Yoongi knew the drill. The storm was only just beginning.

The troop saluted at him and they were quick to assess the situation, recording and preserving the evidence of the crime. They couldn’t allow this to slide, not when the chief of police, Min Yoongi, had been targeted. The idea of him being a victim? Unthinkable.

Jimin gracefully walked to where he was standing. Yoongi stood apart from the chaos, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his face like a shield. His anger was palpable—his body rigid, his eyes narrowing as the team moved around him. He was barely holding onto the thin thread of sanity that had kept him grounded. His hands were steady, but his mind was a storm. His family was safe, on their way to the headquarters now with the army of men he trusted, but the unsettling calm in his chest only made his rage more dangerous.

“Reporting this to the police?” Jimin's voice broke through the silence, a smirk tugging at his plump lips as he approached. His footsteps were light, almost graceful, as he surveyed the room, his eyes flicking over the men as they worked. “Bold move, hyung.”

Yoongi scoffed, his gaze flicking to Jimin, but he didn’t move a muscle. His fingers tapped the side of his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dark. The sarcasm in Jimin’s voice didn’t faze him. “I’ve already been beaten up by Hoseok earlier, so I’ll just tell them those three assholes did this to me. Self-defense, you know? Trespassing. I’m sure the story will hold up fine.”

Jimin chuckled, shaking his head, but the amusement in his eyes faded as he studied Yoongi. The older man’s expression was cold, a warning to anyone who dared to underestimate his resolve. The anger simmering beneath the surface was a storm just waiting to break free.

Yoongi’s lips curled into something between a grin and a snarl, his eyes sharp as they narrowed on the scene. He tossed the cigarette aside, grinding it into the floor with his heel, and turned toward Jimin. “You know what’s even better?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, his expression cautious but curious. “What’s that?”

Yoongi’s voice was low, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Call the reporters. I want this shit to be known throughout the country. Making an unprecedented attack on the chief of the police? And his family? His wife that is blind? And his young son? Guess whose sympathy the public will side?”

Jimin blinked, clearly surprised by the request. But Yoongi’s eyes were steely, full of something dark and dangerous. His gaze flicked to the team, who were still working meticulously in the background.

“They need to know who fucked with the wrong man,” Yoongi continued, his voice a low growl. “And the first person who reacts? The first one who does anything different�� will most likely be our fucking enemy.”

Jimin's smirk faltered, replaced by the same steel in his leader’s eyes. He didn’t need to ask who Yoongi was talking about. He understood. It wasn’t just about the attack anymore. It was about sending a message—a statement. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just after the chief of police. They were challenging the entire fucking empire.

Jeon Jungkook was the last to enter the room. He held his hand up, silencing the comment Seokjin was clearly about to make on his pajamas.

“It’s 3 in the morning. Don’t, hyung,” he stated, placing his trusty laptop down on the table.

All of them were gathered there, their faces that of seriousness except for Taehyung who was just playing on his phone as though the situation was not grave enough to merit his attention. But the situation was bigger than they initially thought. Someone was foolish enough to go after one of the leaders of Bangtan. An attack to one was, and should be, considered an attack to all.

This ends now.

All of them was there…well, except for Hoseok who they hadn’t seen since the confrontation. However, to what Namjoon divulged, Hoseok was in his own mansion.

Yoongi sat at the head of the table, the whiskey glass in his hand the only thing that betrayed his seething anger. He didn’t speak, but they all knew that a quiet Yoongi was the most dangerous of them all. The air around him seemed to hum with unspoken rage, his silence more ominous than any outburst.

Jungkook sighed, rubbing his eyes. He’d barely slept, and now this. As if things weren’t already complicated enough. He didn’t have the energy for the usual banter. Seokjin, on the other hand, was pouting dramatically, his voice whining as he complained about how the stress of Bangtan’s messes was taking years off his life.

“JK,” Namjoon called for his attention before smiling at him. “Tell us about what you found.”

He nodded before quickly tapping on his laptop. The hug screen in front of the table reflected his findings. “Among our known enemies, as well as people who have been acting strangely lately, these three are the main suspects. First, the one we blew out the ship last year. Second is the-”

Jungkook nodded and immediately began tapping away on his laptop. The large screen in front of the table illuminated as his findings were projected for everyone to see. His fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, and soon the list of suspects was clear.

“Among our known enemies, as well as people who’ve been acting strange lately, these three are our main suspects,” Jungkook said, his voice steady despite the overwhelming tension. “First, the one we took down last year—the one we blew out of the water in the shipping deal. Second—”

“It’s the third one,” Taehyung interrupted suddenly, his bored eyes finally lifting from his phone to the screen. His voice was casual, as if he wasn’t dealing with the aftermath of an attack on their own.

“What?” Jimin asked, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. He looked at Taehyung, confused by his nonchalant interruption.

Taehyung rested his chin on his hand, the playful air about him from earlier gone as his expression became serious. “It’s the senator. The aspiring president in the upcoming election.”

There was a brief silence before Jimin spoke up again, his brows furrowing. “The senator?”

Taehyung nodded, his tone unchanged, still calm as ever. “He’s been in our pockets for a long time. We’ve been backing him for years, keeping him in line, helping him with his ambitions. But suddenly, we told him we wouldn’t be supporting his bid for president anymore.”

Jungkook looked up from his laptop, his expression now tense. He knew where this was going.

Taehyung continued, his voice growing colder. “The only dirt he has in his ledger? Us. The Bangtan. If we don’t support him, then we’re supporting the other guy. And that’s the last thing he can afford. Losing our backing would destroy everything he’s been working for.

And they all know what happens if they lose our support.”

“Taehyung-ah, that’s a heavy accusation. Do you have any proof?” Seokjin asked.

He nodded, showing his phone to them wherein it showed how he messaged several people with one sentence.

You messed with the wrong people.

The only one who didn’t answer? The senator.

“And well, my sources tell me he’s on the move right now. The fucker is on his way here. So…should we keep going with this pointless meeting or should we head out for war? Because, you know, this is getting honestly boring.”

Before anyone could respond, a loud explosion rattled the walls of the headquarters. The sound of glasses shattering echoed through the room, sharp and continuous, as the windows cracked under the force. Instantly, all six men were on their feet, instinctively reaching for their weapons and preparing for what was about to come. The tension in the air now felt like static, crackling with violence.

The senator had moved first.

Fucking politics.

Yoongi sneered as they all moved to action. “If you get out of here alive, Namjoon-ah, I’m making you a fucking senator!”

“Hyung!”

Well, they did need a political backing. And who better to do that than Namjoon?

The sound of another explosion came, followed by distant gunfire. The senator’s men were already here. They didn’t have time to waste.

Jimin’s sharp eyes narrowed as he pulled on his jacket, his hands readying his gun. “What a fucking foolish man,” he muttered angrily, his voice low but carrying the weight of experience. The last time a chaos with this magnitude was unleashed was when they overthrew Kim Seokjin’s father.

Jimin was already up, moving fluidly, shooting back with precision. His aim was flawless, every bullet finding its mark. The others moved with the same deadly efficiency, but Yoongi’s mind was already a step ahead. His eyes darted to the monitors, where enemy positions were flashing in real-time. He knew the layout of his headquarters inside and out, but it was clear: the senator had come prepared. This wasn’t just a raid—it was a full-on assault.

The next blast came from the front entrance, a massive explosion that blew the doors off their hinges, sending fragments of concrete and wood scattering across the hallway. The force of it sent Yoongi stumbling back, his ears ringing. He recovered quickly, shaking off the disorientation, and rose to his feet.

“Stay alert! They’ll breach the back soon,” Yoongi ordered, voice cold and commanding. He was already heading toward the armory. This wouldn’t be over quickly.

"Taehyung, take the right flank. Namjoon, the left. Jimin, Seokjin—get to the control room. Jungkook, you’re with me. We take the front. Clear?"

"Clear," Taehyung responded, his voice low and focused as he sprinted toward the hallway.

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice—he was already moving. The rest of Bangtan didn’t hesitate either. They were soldiers in their own right, and they knew what was at stake.

Gunfire erupted in the hallway as the attackers advanced. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, but Yoongi was already moving with ruthless precision, his weapon blazing. He took out two men in quick succession, his face impassive as he executed the moves he had perfected over the years. Jungkook was at his side, equally efficient, his gunshots timed perfectly with Yoongi’s.

The sound of the explosions and gunfire seemed to blur together, the chaos intensifying as more men poured into the building. Bangtan’s headquarters had become a battlefield.

Yoongi’s eyes scanned the area, taking note of the positions of his enemies. Every move was calculated. He ducked behind cover, reloading his gun, then came up again, firing without hesitation. The senator’s men were aggressive, but they were no match for Bangtan’s precision and training.

In the distance, the unmistakable sound of a helicopter's rotors beating against the air told Yoongi that their enemies weren’t just coming on foot. The senator had everything planned. It was a full-scale operation.

"Hyung!" Jungkook’s voice cut through the noise, and Yoongi's gaze snapped to him. The younger man was taking down enemy after enemy with ruthless precision, but his face was set in a grim expression, his tone heavy with urgency. "You have to take noona and Jiwon away from this! We’re being surrounded! Backup is a good ten minutes away. You have to keep your family safe!"

Yoongi’s throat tightened at the mention of you and Jiwon. The very thought of you being anywhere near this madness made the blood in his veins run cold.

His eyes flicked to the doorway where you and his son were hidden, safe for the moment, but Yoongi knew that wasn’t enough. He could feel the pressure mounting, the walls of the building seeming to close in with every passing second. The helicopter overhead was a clear indication that the senator wasn’t messing around. This was orchestrated. This was personal.

“We’ll survive. Noona needs you more than us,” Jungkook repeated, his voice a low growl as he fired off a few more rounds, taking out two more of the senator’s men who were sneaking up behind Yoongi.

He hesitated only for a moment, before his jaw set in grim determination. His eyes darted toward the hallway where he had last seen you and Jiwon, the precious little family he thought he could protect.

“Go. Take care of yourself, hyung,” Jungkook said before dashing off into the fray, moving with the precision of a seasoned soldier, disappearing into the shadows as he fought off another wave of enemies.

Yoongi didn’t wait. He moved quickly, every muscle in his body tense as he pushed his way through the chaos, his gun at the ready. As he passed the hallway leading to the room where you and Jiwon were, he felt his chest tighten with a sense of urgency. He couldn’t afford to hesitate.

"Stay low. Stay quiet. Don't make a sound," Yoongi ordered as he approached you, his voice calm but sharp, like steel wrapped in velvet. His gaze was burning, determined. He could feel the weight of his promise to protect you.

He found you in the small, dark room where you were trying to comfort Jiwon, who was clutching a stuffed bear to his chest, eyes wide in confusion. You looked up, your face pale, but there was a quiet strength in your expression. You already knew. You could feel it, too.

Yoongi moved to you quickly, kneeling in front of you. He cupped your face gently, brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek, and locked eyes with you.

“We’re leaving now,” he said softly but firmly. “Stay close. Don’t look back.”

You nodded, your grip tightening around Jiwon. There was no question in your eyes. The world outside was in chaos, but you trusted Yoongi, and that was all that mattered right now.

With one last glance at his son, Yoongi turned and led you down the hallway, his mind racing. He wasn’t just fighting to protect you—he was fighting to keep his family whole. And no one—no one—was going to take that from him.

The getaway car was so nearby. He moved his family as quickly as he could, but with you being almost full blind made it difficult. As they rounded the corner, a sharp noise shattered the air. Yoongi’s heart lurched as three masked figures emerged from the shadows, blocking their path. Their weapons gleamed ominously in the dim light. Yoongi’s blood ran cold, but his movements were swift—he spun, instinctively pushing you and Jiwon behind him, using his body as a shield.

Before he could even point the gun at them, three successive shots pierced through their head and their bodies fell down with a thud, revealing Hoseok.

Hoseok lowered his gun, his expression unreadable, his stance calm yet deadly. The hallway, once filled with the sounds of chaos, was eerily silent now, save for the heavy breaths from Yoongi and the distant crackle of the fighting outside.

Yoongi blinked, the shock of the sudden shift in the situation still gripping him. Hoseok? He had barely registered his presence, too focused on the danger ahead.

“What? Are you not going to hurry?” Hoseok’s voice was light, almost amused, but his eyes were hard. There was no room for hesitation, no room for weakness. He was the last person to show any sign of mercy, but right now, there was a flash of something in his gaze that told Yoongi everything—Hoseok had no intention of letting anything happen to his family.

Yoongi didn’t waste time on words. His instincts took over. With a sharp nod, he motioned for you and Jiwon to move faster.

Once Yoongi had secured his family in the car, he took a moment, standing still in the chaos that surrounded them. Without a word, he stepped closer, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that had fallen. His gaze was soft but filled with a sorrow that hurt more than anything. And then, as though time itself had stopped, Yoongi leaned down and kissed you deeply.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It wasn’t just a goodbye. It was everything he couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t protect you from. It was the way his lips moved against yours—slow, desperate, full of meaning. It was a kiss that burned with the intensity of his love and his fear. He kissed you as if he were memorizing every sensation—the way you fit against him, the way your breath mingled with his, the way your heart raced in sync with his own. This moment, this fragile piece of time, was all they had.

You clung to him, your sobs breaking through as you gripped his hands with a desperation that mirrored his own. “Come back to me, okay? Come back to us,” you cried, voice trembling, raw with fear and love.

Yoongi’s chest tightened. He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that felt like it could tear him apart. Instead of answering you, he whispered those three words that had always meant everything between you two, but in this moment, they felt like a promise, a plea, and a goodbye all at once.

“I love you.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he pulled back, his eyes never leaving yours. But there was no more time. He stepped back, heart breaking with every second that ticked by. His gaze flickered to Jiwon, and without hesitation, he reached for his son. Pulling the boy into his arms, Yoongi hugged him tight, pressing his forehead against his son’s.

“Be safe, Jiwon,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Then, with one last lingering look at you, he straightened up, his face hardening into a mask of resolve. There would be no time for hesitation. He turned and walked away, each step more purposeful than the last. He knew what he had to do. But with every step, the ache in his chest only grew.

Hoseok looked at Yoongi who was marching to him instead of inside the car. “What the fuck? We have no time. You have to leave–”

Yoongi threw him the keys. “You take them to safety. You get them out of here. You get them to safety, no matter what happens. You take care of them, Hoseok. Don’t let anything happen to them.”

“H-hyung,” Hoseok muttered in confusion.

“You’re the better driver between the two of us. Keep them safe, Hoseok. Keep them safe, and I’ll take you to noona myself.”

Yoongi had five minutes.

Five minutes until backup arrived, and he had to make every second count. His heart pounded in his chest as he rushed back to the scene, every step calculated, every movement with purpose. His family was safe—for now. You and Jiwon were miles away from the chaos, out of harm’s way, but Yoongi knew this fight wasn’t over. Not until every last enemy was on the ground.

He weaved through the wreckage, his men fighting tooth and nail. The sounds of gunfire, shouts, and explosions filled the air, but Yoongi moved like a shadow—silent, swift, and relentless. The tide of battle had already begun to turn. His team, the Bangtan, were forces to be reckoned with. Their enemies were dropping like flies, overwhelmed by the sheer precision and ruthlessness of the Bangtan army. They’d been underestimated, and Yoongi intended to make sure they’d never make that mistake again.

There was no hesitation now. Victory was within their grasp. Yoongi could feel it, in his bones, in the tension of every muscle, in the pulse of adrenaline thrumming through his veins. He was going to win this. He would make sure of it.

But just as Yoongi allowed himself to believe victory was imminent, it came—the sharp, searing pain of a bullet tearing through his shoulder. His body jolted, the force of the impact sending him crashing to the ground.

The battle was still raging, but it was quieter now. The enemies’ numbers were dwindling. Yoongi knew they were on the verge of ending this. He had to keep fighting.

Meanwhile, miles away, a car sped down the road, the tires screeching as it rapidly approached the getaway car. It was coming for you. Hoseok’s eyes narrowed as he watched the car in the rearview mirror, knowing that the danger wasn’t over yet.

In a split-second decision, Hoseok swerved the car, taking a sharp turn that threw everyone inside off balance. The vehicle came directly into the path of the oncoming car, his body bracing for the impact. His mind moved faster than his body, and in that moment, he knew what he had to do—he had to take the hit. His team, your family—they were more important than him.

The crash was deafening. Glass shattered, metal crumpled, and Hoseok’s body jerked violently from the force of the impact. But he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were safe.

As the world around him fell into chaos, Yoongi’s world came to a halt. His pulse raced, but his vision began to darken. He had to finish this, he told himself. He had to finish it for you, for Jiwon, for his family, and for the legacy of the Bangtan.

But in that split second, everything stopped. The roar of battle, the screeching tires, the pounding in his ears—everything faded into the background.

Epilogue

#bts fic #yandere bts #min yoongi fic #bts yandere #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #yandere min yoongi #bts fanfic #yandere min yoongi x you #min yoongi yandere #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #bts mafia au #mafia bts fic #bts mafia #bts #mafia min yoongi x you

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witchygagirlwrites · 4 months ago

Text

Friends?

Jay Halstead x Voight Daughter Reader (Nicknamed Little Bird/ Birdie)

No other A.D.A. can handle intelligence so now you're the official herder of those feral cats. Lucky you

Warnings: Hank and Erin being awful to Birdie?

“Sir with all due respect..” D.A. Newak cut you off mid sentence “No one else will work with your father Voight! You were successful your first week. I need someone who can wrangle intelligence without it landing back in my lap”

You took a deep breath, trying to remember this way your boss. You were a professional, the idea of working shoulder to shoulder with your dad and Erin was grating on your frayed nerves. “Yes sir” you replied and he nodded “Thank you. Here’s the case file. I just need you to go over what they have, see if it’s enough for a conviction before they go after this guy. It’s a high profile target, a few cases have been stumbled and we can not afford a mistrial or he will walk”

You took the case file and tucked it under your arm “I’ll head to the twenty first to meet with Sergeant Voight” “You call him Sergeant?” Newark asked and you shrugged “Better than some things isn’t it?” and turned on your heel to walk away.

Once you got in your suv you gave yourself a moment to just catch your breath. The day before you, Justin and Olive had gone to your mother’s grave. It was the first time you visited it in years. You took a bouquet of flowers. You missed her so much, your dad changed when she got sick. He hadn’t always been like this towards you but now when he looked at you it was like he was trying to see through you. It fucking hurt and trying to hide that was exhausting then trying to keep it from Justin so the two of them could still have some semblance of a relationship was proving to be a full time side job.

_____________________

Not to mention you had a few unread text messages sitting in your phone from a certain detective. You weren’t sure what they said besides the initial I didn’t you could see without risking opening the thread. You didn’t want to know. He’d been Erin’s. You spent years with her castoffs.

You were the youngest so that meant when she came into the house you started getting hand me downs then. “Just give Birdie what Erin outgrows” “Erin doesn’t want it Birdie” then as you got older the people who had crushes on Erin but couldn’t get her would end up eyeing you “You’re almost as cute as Erin” then of course when all of you started getting focusing on careers. Your dad was so damn proud that Erin went into the academy.

“Dad, I’m graduating law school” “Sorry Birdie. We have a case” (Justin and Al were in the front of the crowd, hooting and hollering when you walked across the stage. You never even noticed his absence)

“Dad I passed the bar” “That’s good Birdie, but Erin got an accommodation on the job” (Al sent you a bouquet of wildflowers)

“Dad I won my first case” “Yeah that’s good. Erin ran her first raid successfully. Took half a mil off the streets” (Justin called from a bar when he was out with his buddies and you answered the phone to half a dozen guys shouting “CONGRATS BIRDIE!”)

“Dad, can you come to Boston?” “Erin needs me” (Al and Justin caught a red eye)

Eventually you just got tired of asking. When you needed someone you turned to Justin, if you needed a father you turned to Al. Your dad chose and it wasn’t you, it still broke your fucking heart because you didn’t know why. You refused to beg for scraps from a man that helped bring you into the world. You put your suv in drive and headed for the twenty first. With any luck you could maybe wrangle Al and Kim into being your go betweens on this. Kim seemed like a sweetheart, hell anyone but Erin or Jay would work.

You walked to the front desk and Trudy looked up from the clipboard in her hand “Hey sweetie?” you nodded to the stairs “Mind buzzing me up or walking me up? I am now the A.D.A. assigned to herd that crew of cats whenever necessary because everyone else in the office refuses to work with my father”

She nodded “I’ll buzz you up” “Thank you” you replied with a smile, walking up the stairs and waiting until the gate popped to pull it open the continued up.

The moment you got to the top of the stairs you breathed a sigh of relief at Al being the first face you saw “Hey little bird. What are you doing here?” you cut your eyes towards the board at the front of the room “To make sure Anthony Carlile actually gets convicted and doesn’t get off on a technicality” he nodded slowly “So you’re the one they’ve assigned to babysit us?” you grimaced “Really?” he grinned “Not my words sweetheart and definitely wouldn’t be my words towards you” a smile slipped onto your face “Oh I know you wouldn’t say that about me. Where’s your sergeant? I’m sure he’s going to be thrilled at this news”

You could feel the unit’s eyes on you as you walked across the floor to the break room where Al said Hank, Antonio and Erin were. Apparently Jay and Kim were out talking to a C.I. and Kevin and Adam were interviewing witnesses. You stopped and knocked on the open door “Sergeant Voight? Can I speak with you a moment?” all three of them turned their eyes towards you, three very different reactions. Antonio looked surprised at you calling your dad sergeant Voight, Erin looked annoyed at seeing you but then again the feeling was mutual and yet again your dad’s expression looked like he was trying his best to see through you “Birdie?”

You sighed “A.D.A. Voight. I’m here about the Carlile case” Erin groaned “She’s our damn babysitter” you cut your eyes at her “A babysitter beats the hell out of a sex trafficker getting cut loose on a technicality that causes a mistrial because all of you missed something. I’m not here to tell anyone how to do their jobs, I’m not here to interfere I’m just here to make sure we can secure a conviction on what you have before we allow you an arrest warrant on this asshole”

Antonio looked between you and Erin then looked at Hank before nodding towards the bullpen “I’m gonna go back to my desk” you moved to the side to allow him to walk past.

Erin held your eyes “Couldn’t make it into the academy so had to go into tripping up cops trying to do their jobs?” you scoffed “No honey. I do the leg work in making sure they actually go behind bars and stay there” “Birdie, that’s enough” you spun towards your dad with a lifted eyebrow “Do not Birdie me Sergeant. As long as I am in this building it is A.D.A. Voight. Understood?” He nodded so you walked back out to the bullpen and straight to Al’s desk.

He looked up and his eyes softened. “What happened?” you shook your head “Story of my life Al, story of my life” he looked towards the front of the room and his eyes were practically boring into your dad. The two of them were as close to best friends as anyone could be with your dad. You were the only thing they really fought about. “Al, want to set A.D.A. Voight up in a room?” he asked and you held his eyes, refusing to let him look away. You were through making yourself less in hopes that would somehow make him see you. “Thank you Sergeant” you replied before following Al.

He led you down one of the halls and opened a side door “Here sweetheart, I’ll bring you the files we have and the evidence list. Want some coffee or something?” you shook your head “No sir but thank you” he smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head “I love you kid. Just focus on your job, not them”

_________________________

Jay knew you were in one of the interrogation rooms going over everything on the Carlile case. He also knew that you and Erin had apparently gotten into it. Antonio told him when he got back with Kim. He pulled his phone out and checked to see that his messages still simply read delivered

He honestly hadn’t known that you felt that way about Erin. He knew there was probably some sort of sibling-like rivalry but he hadn’t been thinking about her looking at you, hell he hadn’t been thinking about anything looking at you but you. He cut his eyes at the time and realized everyone was dispersing out to go get some form of food yet you hadn’t thought to emerge.

He stood and walked down the hall where he knew you were and knocked on the door “Come in?” you called and when he walked in you were standing in front of the table which was covered in evidence photos, a crossover of the last few cases that had gotten fumbled on Carlile and a few photos of victims. “A.D.A. Voight?” he asked and you cut your eyes up “Your Birdie privileges haven’t been revoked just because I don’t want Erin’s hand me downs any more”

He nodded and stepped a little closer and that was when he saw the legal notepad you had. You were tying in the last few cases with the evidence, carlile’s foot soldiers and his money laundering businesses. “Damn” he breathed and you looked at him “What?” he motioned to the pad “I would have never thought to tie it in like that” you smiled slightly “You went into the army then the academy Jay. I went into law school then my first internship. Anyway, what did you want?”

He tapped his wrist “It’s lunchtime” you looked at your own watch “Damn, I’m supposed to meet Justin on his lunch break” you looked back at the table “Can I leave this like this or will it be in the way?” he shrugged “It shouldn’t” you nodded “Ok, thanks”

You started to walk out and it was like his mouth had a mind of it’s own “Look, Birdie I didn’t know about the issues with Erin. If you’re gonna be working close with the unit I would like to be your friend if you’d let me” you looked back at him and started to smile then shook your head “I don’t think that’s a good idea Jay” then walked out.

Justin was pissed but not really surprised that your dad had yet again taken Erin’s side when you two had argued. “Why the hell did Newak assign this to you?” you shrugged “No one else will handle our father?” he scoffed “Good point”

You poked at the fry on your plate “I just don’t know what I did J” his hand came across to wrap around your wrist “No, you don’t do that. Whatever issue our old man has is on him, not you. You got me, you got Al. You don’t need him. Show them how you do the damn thing and that’s how you shut Erin’s bitch ass up” you grinned at his choice of words “You are very poetic there Justin” he winked at you “Well not everyone got the brains there baby sis”

_________________________

When you got back to the precinct your dad called you to his office as soon as you walked into the bullpen. You cut your eyes at Al as you walked past him.

You walked into the office but refused to take a seat “Yes Sergeant?” he waved a hand “Can we cut that crap?” you shook your head “I’d rather not. Best to make sure lines don’t get blurry. Now what do you need?” he shook his head “The case. Do we have enough to move on Carlile or not?” you pulled out the legal pad and looked it over “I think we do, I’ll need to run it by Newak but if so I can get an arrest warrant before three”

“Good work Kid” he said and you scoffed “Wow. Anyway, I’ll see you in a few” and walked out of his office without another word. You stopped at Al’s desk “I’m going to meet with Newak to try to get you all an arrest warrant” “Finally doing something right” Erin muttered and you spun around on your heel “Excuse me detective Lindsay?” she got up from her desk “You heard me, you’ve wasted what? Five and a half hours to say you can get the warrant. Why couldn’t you do that this morning?”

“Erin” Al warned and you held up a hand then faced her “Because I actually have rules I have to abide by or else the people all of you arrest in turn walk right back out onto the street” you could see Jay move closer behind you out of your peripheral vision, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene unfold. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch, like you’ve never cut corners” she slung at you and you took a deep breath “I’m not going to do this. I’m wasting time tossing childish insults back and forth” “That’s enough Birdie” you heard your dad’s voice and turned towards him with what you knew was a horrified expression “Excuse me?” he nodded “You’re both tired and stressed over this case, I get it but that’s enough”

You shook your head and looked back at Al “When I come back with the warrant, I’ll leave it with Trudy”

Jay watched you walk down the stairs and wanted nothing more than to go after you. This was a whole different side of Erin. Why did she treat you like this? Why did Voight treat you like this? You were his daughter, not her. He cut his eyes at Al and saw he was already calling your brother. This must have been a common dance for the two of them. Just how bad of a thing had he stepped into? No wonder you didn’t want anything to do with him if you thought of him just as another of her hand me downs.

“Are we really stuck with her?” Erin asked Voight and Jay’s mouth moved on its own “How about quit being a bitch Erin? She tied those damn cases up in a bow. The way she figured it, she’ll be able to convict him on even the dropped cases and it stick. So yeah it took a few hours but it will topple his entire fucking business so give her a damn break”

Erin and Voight both looked at him and he shrugged then walked off. He didn’t care. It was sickening seeing them act like that towards you.

You were sitting in Mollys with Justin and a couple of his friends. You were tucked far enough in the corner you didn’t have to worry about being spotted. “I’m going to his place later” Justin said and you shook your head “No, you’re not” “Bullshit. I am so tired of him hurting you. You’re just doing your job and he takes her side?” you shrugged “I’m used to it J”

“Al is pissed. He said Meredith called pops and tore into him. Told him mom would be disappointed in him for the way he treats you and that’s grateful that Al is man enough to be a father to Lexi and a father figure to you because god knows someone needs to” you cracked a grin at the thought of the look on your father’s face when Meredith told him that. You didn’t want to cause him any undue pain, really but if he would have asked anyone out of the unit they would have told him Erin was the instigator. Not that he would’ve probably cared anyways but still.

“I don’t want to think about them” you told him and he nodded “Fair enough. What do you want to do?” you grinned “Have a drink with my brother then go beat his ass at bowling?” he laughed “Oh you’re on little sister”

_____________________

You were just about to get into bed when your phone chimed. You checked it to see yet another message from Jay and decided to read this one I’m in your corner Birdie. Friends or not. You don’t even have to talk to me. Just know when you’re at the 21st if it gets bad with your dad and Erin I’m getting between you and them. I’m not standing there and watching after today. I don’t have it in me to do again.

You smiled slightly and texted back He’s your boss Jay. Don’t risk your job. It’s not worth it the bubbles that he was texting back was almost immediate This number does work! Wow. but yeah, it is worth it. I never knew the issues were like that. Just so you know you’re worth so much more than a second choice. You’re amazing at your job, fuck them both if they can’t see that

You stared at the message for a few moments then texted back I want to believe you Jay but she’s pulled stunts like this before. Making me think someone likes me just for it to be a prank. That sounds horrible a grown woman being worried about a prank but still..

You gnawed on your bottom lip as the bubbles popped up then disappeared then popped up again then disappeared again then your phone just started ringing with his name. ‘Hello?” you answered and he sighed “Fuck Hank, Fuck Erin. Birdie you are worth more than a hundred of both of them and I haven’t even known you very long. Look, I just want to be your friend. I’m not trying to mess with your head or anything here, you want to know something? Ask me. I will tell you, good or bad. Just please don’t doubt yourself that bad or I may go into work tomorrow and fight your dad on the spot” you laughed lightly “As amusing as that may be for Al, that would more than likely lead to me more paperwork” he chuckled “Then I won’t do that but believe me when I say when I asked for your number, Erin was the absolute furthest thing from my mind”

@desimarie12

“Justin is going to threaten you, even just being friends with me” you warned and he laughed lightly “I can handle that. Maybe we can hang out sometime, with him as the chaperone of course” the mental image of you and Jay watching a movie with Justin two rows back made you crack up laughing “We’ll see Halstead but for now, we’ll say friends”

Mine, Yours

@allisonargent144

@nevaehstreater18

@itsdesiree86

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead angst #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfic #one chicago fanfic

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strangesthirdeye · 10 months ago

Text

ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ (sʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ x ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: Born in a wise family does not mean that one person is the same.

Warning: IT'S SHERLOCK AS A DAD! WE LOVE HIM! medium angst, sad, not so bad achievements, stress, Sherlock being a great dad, struggling to achieve better results, comparison, inadequate feeling, fluff, love.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Not good enough. That's what you think in your mind when you see the exam trial results on the school's official website. Passed but not enough. No A's, no B's but lots of C's. That's it. Passed but did not achieve excellence.

You don't know whether to feel relieved, happy or sad. Because all the feelings are mixed inside you. You just stare at your laptop screen with a blank face. Is this what you got after a long effort? Is this the result of your hard work? What is missing? what needs to be added? what else do you need to do to get the best results?

More importantly, is this the result you will show your father in the hope that he will be proud of you? You are just dreaming. Your body doesn't move and everything is quiet in your bedroom. Only the sound of your father's and John's voice can be heard in addition to the sound of traffic outside the flat. You let out a shaky breath and slowly closed your laptop. eyes are closed tightly and both your hands are clasped in front and placed on your face. You then lean your head on your hands.

Tired, disappointed, sad and the feeling of failure in yourself is bubbling up in your mind. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Born in the Holmes family that has intelligent family members makes you feel like you are the lowest in the family. Although your grandmother is a genius woman, you are only close to your grandfather because you feel that your grandfather is the most normal person for you because he understands and is quite familiar with everything. No wonder you'll just stick with your grandfather every time you go to Musgrave Hall.

Not only that, Your uncle Mycroft and your father inherited your grandmother's wisdom making them a successful and genius in all things. Your uncle Mycroft works with the Government while your father is a consulting detective. Isn't that work only for geniuses?.

After a few months of hard work that's all you got? What will your father say later? did he scold you because you didn't get the best results? Oh god, now you think you are the weakest in terms of wisdom in the Holmes family. Lots of your friends get the best results in their exams even though they don't have genius family members. But you?

you sighed in frustration before getting up from the chair and plopped down on the bed face first before wrapping your head with both of your arms as if you were trying to hide yourself. You father and uncle John are still arguing about God knows what. Probably about the cases they receive. You are not someone who likes to know about other people's affairs. It's just none of your business so you just leave it alone.

But right now you care about what your father would say and do if he knew your achievements. Your bad performance.

The arguing between two adult men seems to have subsided, which makes the flat peaceful and quiet. Probably they are tired of arguing again so they just decided it would be better if they both shut up. At least you have time to cool down from feeling disappointed and anxious.

The two men seemed to be whispering about something that you can't catch with what they are talking about which is okay because well it's probably about cases. You don't always follow them solving a cases because that's not what you're interested in. And one more thing, you don't possess deduction ability like your father so you think you better stay behind. You let out a small sigh that seemed almost to cry.

Yes, you are crying but you don't want your cry to be heard by the two grown men outside your room. Your father is not the kind of man who always shows his affection to others, which is a little difficult for you to deal with. So mostly all your problems will be told to John as John always gives good advice.

You raised your head and wiped your tears with your sleeve before returning to your position before. Maybe you were too busy crying because you didn't hear the knock on your door followed by your father's voice calling your name.

"Y/n, dinner is ready" Sherlock said behind the door.

"In a second!" you replied loudly, managing to hide the hint of sadness.

The other side is silent Probably your dad has gone. You sighed heavily before getting up from the chair and brushing yourself with your hands trying to get rid of the wrinkles on your shirt. You wipe your tears with the sleeves of your shirt several times. You saw your face in the mirror, you sighed again when you noticed that your eyes were red and slightly swollen from crying. Well, you can't hide this.

"Dammit" you cursed under your breath. Ignored that, you moved yourself toward the door.

There your dad is standing motionless in front of your door with his neutral face. You jerked in shock and took a few stepped back. You looked up at him in skepticism.

"What are you doing?" You frowned, looking down, wiping your wet cheeks with your sleeves.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowed at you. " you've been crying"

"I'm not" you denied, walked past him after trying to close you door room but then Sherlock put his hand on your door room with his hand. Blocking the door slammed shut.

"You are" Sherlock replied, walking into your room, ignoring your protested. His eyes scanning your room, looking through the cause of your sudden emotion. His eyes suddenly stopped at your laptop that still on. He bowed slightly to looked at you laptop screen, he squinted his eyes at the brightness.

You pursed your lips. "dad, can we just-"

"what's this?" Sherlock muttered, eyes still focusing on the screen.

You were silent. Not brave enough to answer what your father asked. It's like the sentence you wanted to say has disappeared like dust in the wind. Nothing. Your mind goes blank.

Sherlock turned his gaze on you. "Y/n"

"It's-" you paused. "can we just have dinner? please" You pleaded.

"Why are you hiding this?" Sherlock replied, ignoring your previous question.

You are silent again. Sherlock looked back at your exam results.

"Yo-"

"I've tried my best!" you cried out.

Sherlock became silent upon hearing your confession.

"I tried but it's still the same. I studied day and night really hard but it's the same. All those revisions and studying I did didn't yield the results I thought. It's like I'm destined to fail in everything even though it's very simple. Seeing my friends getting good results and being able to make their family proud makes me wonder if I can make my family proud, especially my own dad. I mean, he's a detective and he's very smart. He probably has a daughter who is also smart like him but not. His daughter is just a teenage girl who works really hard to fail again and again. Why? Because she does not possess the same wisdom as her other family members. She just.. Normal" you confessed.

Sherlock stared at you for a moment. You pursed your lips as you tried not to cry, tears started to form on your eyelids. You looked at your dad who was still silent and stared at you with an unreadable reaction. You sighed.

"nevermind about that.. I'm just overreacting.. I'm too emotional. You don't need to do anything.. I can handle it.. I'm just going to dinner" You walked closer to your study table to close the laptop .

Sherlock grabbed your hand making you stop moving. You pulled your hand to let go but you dad just tightened his grip making you stop struggling. You suddenly feel like crying. You don't know why you suddenly felt like you were returning to the body of a little girl under his gaze.

"Sweetie.."

Hearing that old nickname you were given as a child brought tears to your eyes. Sherlock then pulled your body closer to him. Hugging you as if you were still a child. A little girl who is always tailing her dad no matter where.

You sniffles as Sherlock rubbed your back a few times to coax you. He may not be good at expressing his sentiment towards others but he will show it in his own way even though it is a bit eccentric but he tried.

" I know you work hard to make dad proud, I know you spend time studying to achieve good results. I know you are always smart but in your own way. Failing is not forever, you can try and try again. Even if you don't being good at something doesn't mean you can't try to succeed. I don't care if your results are lower than your classmates or you don't get the high results you want, you still make me proud, you are still able to stay standing even though reality doesn't allow it. Being a Holmes doesn't mean you have to be intelligent. You are you. You have your own way of expressing your wisdom to everyone. Even though the exam results disappointed you, it still made me proud" Sherlock said in your ear as he keeps rubbing your back.

" I'm scared that you're disappointed with me.." you muttered while sniffling.

"No I don't, you will never disappoint me. I know you will try and try to succeed. I may seem not to express any sentiment to others but I will show it in my own way. Especially when it comes to you" your dad replied as he kisses your crown of hair.

You nuzzled against his neck. "I don't know what to do if you are disappointed with me, that's why I try to hide it from you.. I'm sorry"

"No, don't be sorry for things you can't achieve. You've tried, I won't be disappointed or angry with you. If I'm angry and upset with you, probably your uncle John will shoot me in the head with his gun" Sherlock smirked.

You smile at that as you keep hugging your dad. Head nuzzled against his neck finding comfort in his arms.

"I love you, dad" you whispered early, loud enough for your father to reply.

"I love you too, sweetie"

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #bbc shows #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x reader #Sherlock Holmes x daughter reader #sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x daughter reader #sherlock bbc #Spotify

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tsuiioku · 2 years ago

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— 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞.

from anonymous: hello, can i request dazai and fyodor hc's for an insecure s/o?

pairing(s): osamu dazai & fyodor dostoevsky (bungou stray dogs) x f!reader

content warnings: body insecurity, depression, minor partner neglect, protective characters, mentioned nudity, implied/referenced sexual content, social anxiety, panic attacks. implied/referenced murder

author's note: it's good to be back ٩(•͈ ꇴ •͈)و ̑̑❀

summary: these two demons comfort their insecure and anxious partner.

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

These two intelligent masterminds are often preoccupied with plans and schemes, building the world up as the other breaks it apart. However, throughout all their similarities and differences, there is one weakness to their routine stoicism and impassivity.

And that weakness was you.

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 ✧･ﾟ: ━

It had been a long day of slaving over papers at your desk within the confines of the Armed Detective Agency. You had practically been slumped over, hands aching from writing thousands of signatures on the lines of recent accident reports, your wrist slowly dragging until the letters were unrecognizable as a name.

It felt like you had transformed into the worst version of yourself — exhausted, agitated, depressed. And to make matters even worse, you hadn't had an interaction with Dazai that surpassed a handful of pleasantries for days. He had been plagued with missions for the past week, leaving him out beyond regular twilight hours, with his only remaining time used to catch up on sleep. You didn't blame him, though you were surprised to see him so dedicated, but you couldn't help but miss the simpler times when you would silently cuddle and revel in the affection of one another, tangled in each other's arms as you wished to be nowhere else. And with the loneliness came the insecurities.

"Oh, my dearest honey-pie!" Dazai called from across the office; the rest of your co-workers are already accustomed to his high-energy hijinks. He had returned after another mission, though it was luckily a much easier case than the previous.

You sighed, your smile not quite reaching your eyes as you glanced up from the text you had read a thousand times over, turning to the man leaping over like a bunny. But he stopped mid-hop, sliding over with a blank expression as he seemed to inwardly glitch.

"Osamu? Is something wrong?" you mumbled the question through drowsy lips, eyes barely able to concentrate as you felt on the verge of passing out. His eyes narrowed, those beautiful chocolate-brown irises scanning your face with a hum.

"Let's head home early today," he suggested, his large hand pressing against your back, swallowing his frown as he massaged the tense muscles. "Sound good, dear?"

He could immediately tell that something was bothering you, already linking it to his recent absences — he won't admit that he was quite flattered. However, his beloved feeling insecure and unsure of herself is an immediate no-no. And knowing him, he'd address it through a varied expression of pouts and his stern but gentle reassurances.

A part of him cannot believe that you're insecure — not because he doesn't understand the concept, because he logically knows most people will feel insecure once in their life. It's just that, out of the two of you, he feels that he doesn't deserve you and has to constantly remind himself that you chose him. But because he understands your feelings, he is amazing at identifying the origins of any specific insecurities — and pray for the health of anyone who tries to add to them. He was proclaimed the Demon Prodigy for a reason.

Are you insecure about your body? In complete honesty, Dazai believes that the stars were taken from your leftover pieces — someone created so beautifully that they needed to remove parts of you in order to humanize you. You were always a benevolent goddess in his eyes.

So watch you glare at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, eyes raking your nude form with utter hatred and disgust as you thumb at stretchmarks and pull at flesh with eyes like blades, daring to sever them off your body, twisted his heart in sorrow. How could you not possibly see how ethereal you were?

In those moments, he wanted to walk into the room, replace your hands with his own adoring ones, and show you the way to appreciate your body as he did. To make you cry in pleasure as he forced you to look at your own lovely expressions, to melt.

But he knows that isn't always what you need — that it isn't always the best idea to point out your insecurities in such a way. So, instead, he waits. In the dead of night, when you are snuggled in your shared bed under the moonlight, his warm, large hands run underneath your pajamas, leaving sleepy kisses across your sensitive skin as soft giggles were drawn out from your lips as he painted your shoulders, neck, thighs — anywhere he could reach.

"Oh, my sweet darlin'. Your radiance knows no bounds."

Do you have insecurities in social situations? He understands the origins of your anxiety — your world can be incredibly overwhelming — and he is very sympathetic. Whenever you're out together, he watches like a hawk for any possible triggers, checking in occasionally to make sure you're comfortable and calm.

His immediate reaction whenever you've become overwhelmed is to lead you out and away from the situation. Once he has picked up on your tense breathing and nervous expression, he responds accordingly and guides you somewhere to calm down. However, especially with an occupation like yours, that isn't possible. If he isn't able to get you out of the situation, he'll try to be physically near you in some way, resting a hand on your shoulder or back, bracing you in case your knees buckle.

If you still end up having a panic attack, he responds with uncanny and seemingly atypical seriousness, either ushering you away or eliminating the source of your anxiety before drawing you into his arms, acting like a human, weighted blanket as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears, rocking you back-and-forth as he encourages you to match his breathing.

After these attacks, he'd be glued to your side even more than he normally is. Most believe he is simply being obnoxious, but he is always closely looking at your expression and body language, ensuring that you don't dip into another panic.

"It's okay, honey. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

And are you insecure about your relationship itself? If he was honest with himself, he would know the exact reason you'd have insecurities within your relationship. He was never known as the most committed, straightforward, or bluntly loving person towards anyone. He is a flirt and a fool, and at the beginning of the relationship, that never changed when you got together.

However, once he realized the way his behavior made you withdraw into yourself — the sorrow in your eyes when he'd leave in the middle of the night, the way you bit your tongue whenever he flirted with another woman — he finally stopped and took a look in the mirror. You were the best thing that could've ever happened to him, and the fact that his own actions were causing you pain broke his heart. So, for the second time in his life, he changed for a person — for the better.

He stopped flirting with women almost altogether unless a mission required it, focusing each of his cheesy one-liners and proposals to you. But his actions aren't always that obvious. It can be shown through the simple glances he makes towards you throughout the day, engaging you in silly conversations, or holding your hand with his non-dominant one as he pretends to fill out paperwork, mind focused on the patterned taps of phrases in your palm.

And he makes sure, whenever he sees you start to withdraw again, he goes out of his way to take care of you the same way you always lovingly took care of him. Whether that's through going out on a date, staying in to watch movies, or partaking in steamy activities is up to you.

"I've heard that a new restaurant opened up nearby, beautiful. Wanna go?"

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘 ✧･ﾟ: ━

You hadn't seen Fyodor the entire week.

He had been far too busy planning his next scheme, crammed in his office at his organization's headquarters, far underground in a place that you couldn't locate — he refused to let you be involved in his plans or with the people under his command. So, instead, you had been stuck within your menial routine, waking up to an empty bed, going to work at your exhausting job, and returning to your barren home.

You dropped your stuff unceremoniously onto the coffee table, slumping onto the couch with a groan as your face smushed into the cushions. Not an inch of your body was able to be moved, only turning to cover yourself with a blanket after a couple of minutes, willing yourself not to cry, allowing the soft fabric to swallow you whole. You couldn't even turn on the television despite your hatred for the silence, finding the only shows or movies featured couples relishing their time together, blissfully ignorant to all struggle or strife.

You were becoming a shell of your former self with each passing moment, burrowing further into your body as any happy emotion turned to melancholy, only wanting to hear his voice again. The house was too big for you to remain in alone, and you wouldn't be surprised if the echoes of it creaking onto its foundation made you slowly go mad.

You barely stirred as the front door clicked open, a brief question of whether you locked it coming to mind, but you couldn't find the will to care. Someone circled the room before they approached your body, nimble hands nudging the blanket to get a view of your face.

"Good evening, моя милая," he whispered, breaking the empty air as he traced the tense creases of your eyes.

You melted into his affections, practically nuzzling into his hand, but even those touches didn't seem to be enough to appease your troubled mind. He would only leave, allowing you to wallow in your own anxiety for another week or longer. The black-haired man frowned at your less-than-enthused reaction, twirling the strands of your tangled locks with eyes that you hoped you weren't misconstruing as concern.

"I'll make us some tea, hm?"

Just like Dazai, Fyodor was immediately able to tell that something was wrong the moment he walked through the door. But unlike Dazai, he remains observant, not immediately jumping to comfort and cradle you without analyzing the origins and best possible solution to your current insecurities. And if the source of your insecurities came from someone in particular, he would be quick to eliminate them with uncharacteristic impatience and swiftness.

Because out of all the people on this planet, his perfect other half is not allowed to feel anything but uncontrollably adored.

To him, you are incandescent and divine, above everyone else. So, the fact you have insecurities based on such small, seemingly inconsequential flaws bewilders him. He can be harsh and blunt in his statements, but it's only because he sees you so highly. You are his equal in every way possible.

Are you insecure about your body? Fyodor has a fondness for beauty; it is no secret. He stares upon magnificent pieces of art and illustrative manuscripts of writing with fondness, but it never compares to the way he gazes upon your face. You are the most enchanting woman he has ever laid his eyes upon, even throughout his lengthy travels across the continent — and the notion that you think otherwise disturbs him.

You seem to be so utterly unaware of your own natural allure, too caught up in the smallest components of your appearance to understand that, as a whole, you were a masterpiece unrivaled by all. Too busy prying yourself apart, oblivious to the radiance that followed in your every step.

You are the all-encompassing vision of natural appeal and charm, a sight he partially wished could be replicated across the ends of the earth. But he understands the reason that is impossible. You were born to be swathed in adoration, intimately by him alone, even if he was too proud to admit it. He always became soft-hearted to your lovely smile, such a simplistic expression that stirred his heart in ways never before seen.

He would initially remedy these insecurities through his gifts to you, luxurious silks and soft velvets sewn into clothes that perfectly draped over your figure. Simple accessories that only complement your features.

And his touches would begin to linger, especially surrounding the parts of yourself that you are most insecure about. Sometimes, he waits until you're almost asleep, eyes hazy with lethargy, and he traces your beauty marks and freckles — anything that you perceive as a flaw, caressed with meticulous adoration and devotion.

"Прекрасный, любимая моя. Прекрасный."

Do you have social insecurities? Fyodor would study the roots of your social anxiety, watching every reaction you'd have towards people or noises when you two would be together in public, feeling the way you hold his arm tight like a vice, brows furrowed as you attempted to withhold your panic.

He knows certain elements of situations can be worrisome and cause your pretty mind to overthink, often fearful for the safety of yourself or others. Perhaps it was another trait that drew him towards you; such a human trait it is, that unwavering compassion. And he couldn't help but find it somewhat cute the way you clung onto him, though that's a hint of his pride talking. You are completely capable of defending and protecting yourself, but he doesn't think you should have to do it alone.

He responds to any panic accordingly, although not necessarily by straight-up calming you. With his intelligence and ability to pinpoint your fears, he can quell them with facts, although if he can tell logic won't work, he'll resort to calming you with discrete, simple whispers and light touches, leading you out of the situation as a final fallback.

However, if someone is threatening your safety, he can quickly take care of them through his wit (and a bit of his ability). The audacity someone has to even attempt to bring harm to your happiness and person makes his blood boil. But the fact that they're idiotic to mess with someone under his protection is almost laughable, and they'll soon learn the consequences of their transgressions.

"Don't worry about that scum, любимая. I'll take care of them."

And the basis of any of your insecurities surrounding your relationship itself, he realizes, to his utter dismay, is probably due to his air of outward coldness and apathy. You are his complementary match, understanding his exact thoughts from the smallest changes in his demeanor, drawing out the tiniest trickles of his affections from seemingly minuscule actions. But sometimes that isn't enough — understanding does not equal comprehension.

Certain assumptions through the lens of your own inadequacies, however tiny they may be, shift your view on position and importance in his life. And he will have absolutely none of that.

Fyodor is rarely so straightforward with his love, even in the moments when you are both completely alone — and that doesn't initially change much. However, he is ever-so-slightly more obvious — blunter with his words, letting his touches linger, scheduling his time with you.

And he purposefully leaves clues of his love in plain sight, inconspicuous letters left partially peeking out of drawers, Cyrillic letters drawn across the paper in intricate swoops, waiting for you to translate their true meaning. Of course, you'll have to work for it, but isn't the result all the more sweeter. He may be too prideful to admit it to your face, besides in the hours where you can barely comprehend thought, but he is and always will be completely enamored and devoted to you.

"Ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? Какой у тебя блестящий ум."

моя милая = my dear прекрасный, любимая моя. прекрасный. = beautiful, my darling. beautiful. любимая = darling ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? какой у тебя блестящий ум. = are you looking through my letters, my love? what a brilliant mind you have.

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @aquigglewigglewoo @kotysluny

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samsblades · 8 months ago

Text

sweet smile — sam winchester

cw : fluff, gn!reader, detective!reader, transfem!sam, barely any dialogue, mentions of death/violence, not proofread, also definitely not my best writing but that's okay, no y/n, 1.9K words. requested !

summary : it's almost startling how quickly you develop a small crush on the most gorgeous fbi agent you've ever seen when she comes in to help solve your case.

on nearly any occasion, sam stays out of the local police stations during cases as much as she can. and usually, with her pantsuit and fake fbi badge, the police are as glad to see her go as she is to leave. but sitting next to you and your meticulously constructed evidence board, she doesn’t mind spending extra time here.

you’re the lead detective on this case, and sam finds you both sweet, cute, and clearly very intelligent. sam’s pretty sure that she and dean are dealing with a wraith this time around, but even without the knowledge of the supernatural, you’ve managed to compile an impressive amount of evidence and string it together in a way that actually makes sense. she thinks that this might be the first time that normal detective work might actually lead her and dean straight to the killer.

so, sam sent dean off to go check out one of the crime scenes while she stays here, listening intently as you carefully explain each and every detail of your evidence board. she can tell that you’ve gathered enough information to actually start seeking out suspects. of course, you’re still unable to fully explain the cause of death, but otherwise, sam can’t help but be highly impressed with your work.

not only does she get extra help in searching for official suspects—you’ve cleared her a spot on your desk across from your own seat and offered your help doing research—but she’s also blessed with the pleasant sight and sounds of you explaining everything to her. you’re rather endearing as you talk, and the blinds in the office are open wide, letting the mid-morning sunlight cast a bright line along your profile each time your head tilts to a certain angle.

she gives you a sweet smile when you're done explaining. any other day, with any other person, she’d give a kind, polite smile. there’s a difference. and, of course, you wouldn’t know that, but the smile sends your heart racing anyway.

“thank you, detective,” she says, sincere and unrushed. now that you’ve given her all the information that you have, she doesn’t need to stay any longer. but she wants to take you up on your offer. she wants to sit right across from you on your small desk and whatever excuse she can get to keep watching the way your fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt or hear your impassioned voice as you do everything you can to be sure that the victim’s families receive closure and justice.

“of croup se,” you smile back, hoping that you at least look like your composure remains intact. internally, you’re undeniably freaking out about how absolutely gorgeous she is. “thank you for making the trip over to help us out with this case. i really can’t help but feel like we’re missing something big. this cause of death is driving me crazy.”

normally, you hate the feds. but she’s so pretty and sincere that you can’t do anything but love the fact that she’s here. and she smiles at you in the most lovely way that it makes your cheeks heat up.

“just doing our job,” she says. her smile isn’t quite as life-threatening this time—your heart only skips a beat or two—but she says those words like she’s less concerned about the job part than the part where she’s helping you out. from the way her partner acted early, it seems like they don’t really spend all that much time with the local police on cases. which means she’s staying longer than necessary, for one reason or another. and she says that she’s just doing her job when her job doesn’t require her to be here and looking at you like you’re the reason. it almost feels like she’s flirting. you might go into cardiac arrest if that’s the case.

you tell yourself that she’s too beautiful to be staying behind just for you. then she grabs the chair from you that you picked for her so that you don’t have to carry it any longer than necessary. and then when she sits across from you and her long legs keep brushing against yours in the cramped space, she looks up from her computer with a pretty, bashful smile and a sweet, murmured apology.

making eye contact with her is like that tiny, pleased, and slightly childish rush one gets when quickly running a finger through a candle’s flame. it’s simple, not some overwhelming surge of exhilarating adrenaline, but you find this to be just as effective in making you feel something for her. it’s softer, like the melting of wax and slight singe on a fingertip. it’s unwise to keep putting skin to flame, even for a split moment, but her gaze doesn’t burn, you just know it. it’s too kind and well-meaning, so you figure it isn’t fire, but something akin. some sort of warmth and light that couldn’t possibly do any harm. you’ll keep locking eyes with her because everything about her feels safe and pure.

her presence is a lovely contrast to the gore and death and confusion of this case. funny, she’s been thinking the same about you. neither of you are unused to violence or dead bodies, but a pretty face to ease the eyes never hurts.

it’s a bit hard to concentrate with her right there, but you make do. there’s enough motivation in being some sort of help to her.

the shadows cast by the open blinds shift as the sun rises to its noontime peak in the sky. it’s one p.m. before you know it, then you’re hungry and most definitely distracted by her pretty face.

you softly shut your laptop to subtly grab her attention, your gaze already waiting for hers when she looks up. your lips quirk up into a light smile, tired of frowning at police records and endless files and reports. there must be something in the air today, because the moment you have her attention, you rest your chin on your palm and manage not to break eye contact as you speak.

“i’m hungry,” you say simply, “we should catch lunch and a break.”

sam feels guilty. you look at her with this soft sort of hope, as if it would make a difference in your day to spend more time with her. there’s not really any expectation along with that hope and sweetness, like even just being friendly with each other while she’s in town is perfectly nice enough for you.

but sam knows that being around her any more than that could never be good for you. you’re looking to her for a sense of reprieve within all this death and stress of the case. she understands; she’d love to have lunch with you, preferably somewhere outside the precinct so that it can feel a little more personal. it’s just that she’s convinced that she most certainly isn’t any sort of real respite. sure, she smiles at you when she thinks you’re being cute, but her presence here represents a worse, more violent, and darker truth about your case, about the world that she hopes you never come to know of.

and yet, the look in your eyes is enough to persuade her that lunch can’t do any harm.

“that sounds like a good idea,” she smiles. she should be allowed to push down that constant guilt every once and a while, right? she hopes you suggest eating somewhere else.

you have to keep your smile from growing too wide. you hope it’s not too much to suggest eating somewhere else. “there’s a great cafe down the street, as long as you’re okay with the city’s best sandwiches.”

sam thinks it’s quite adorable the way that you come across shy and forward all at once. you look bashful while you speak, but are playful and simple without stumbling over your words. it gives her confidence, lets her wonder if flirting with you would make your cheeks heat up.

“i definitely won’t say no to the city’s best sandwiches with the city’s best detective,” she says, closing her own laptop. it was a bit of a fight to maintain eye contact throughout the whole line; her felt confidence doesn’t really remedy her inherent awkwardness. but she made it through her little quip and indeed, she’s pretty sure that she’s succeeded in making you a bit flustered.

“you flatter me,” you refute after a moment, trying to sound cool, but laughing awkwardly. if you weren’t lost in her damn gorgeous eyes, you’d cringe at yourself. she just finds it endearing.

“i’m serious,” she says, and the way her voice turns all sincere proves just that, “you’ve done some really great detective work. half the time when we show up, the police have almost nothing to go off of. usually it’s not their fault, but most places i’ve seen would have been about ten times more clueless than you are.”

heat rises up your neck, but you can’t help but feel proud to hear it. she sounds far too sincere to just be flirting. “thank you,” you murmur, smiling softly.

she pulls on the brown knee-length overcoat that she wore when she first came in, and you’d probably start drooling over how good she looks in it if you stared a second longer. so you pull on your own jacket and walk into the crisp november air with her.

the walk is short, just across the street and a few businesses down to the right. even so, you think you’d like to keep walking with her, maybe do this sometime again. it feels like wishful thinking, but maybe you’ll have another chance before she goes. it’s startlingly easy to imagine holding her hand or sharing an umbrella or fixing her scarf. she’s not even wearing one, but you know she’d look all soft and cozy if she did.

in the cafe, she orders a coffee that sounds nice and a simple caprese sandwich. tomatoes aren’t really any good at this time of year, but when her eyes skim the menu, they skip over the options with meats and you wonder if she’s vegetarian or if she just prefers not to eat deli meats.

when you sit, you call her agent, and she says to just call her sam. it rolls off your tongue so nicely, makes your cheeks feel a little warm. you insist that, if that’s the case, she’d better call you by your first name as well. when she does, you nearly choke on your hot drink. if you weren’t aware of this little workplace crush on her, you’d think you’re beginning to develop a fever.

sitting and talking with her, sharing looks out the window to people watch or sharing looks to secretly think of how pretty the other is, and wasting time to avoid going back is all soft and sweet with her. considering your nerves, it’s much easier than expected, too.

unfortunately, you can’t dawdle forever. she walks back with you, but doesn’t sit. instead, she gathers her things and tells you with a regretful smile that she has to meet back up with her partner to continue on their end of the investigation. you don’t show it too much, smiling back and nodding in understanding, but you’re certainly sad to see her go.

maybe she’ll be back.

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jackiepackiee · 1 year ago

Note

Oh hey there! This my first time requesting you!

I have a request for chuuya nakahara and dazai osamu. I wanna ask that how would he be a as a boyfriend to a s/o who could control electrons in the atmosphere.

For dazai its how would he confess to girl who he admires for a long time but is scared to lose her, but she confesses to him before he could?

Thank you very much and I love the rule about angst without a happy ending i mean cmon life is tough enough already we all are carrying emotional baggage in some way or the other 😭😭

Love you admin, take care! 💞💞

Trying this again because I finished and tumblr deleted it ALLLL

I love science!

𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 & 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝐸𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝒜𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈- 𝓃𝑜𝓅𝑒

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 / 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒

𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾

Will ask the most annoying questions

“Can you make your body a metallic bond so when you’re hit by an enemy, you’re malleable. Oh! Can you make the hatrack an ionic bond so I can make his charges line up and he’ll explode!”

“Dazai… No!

Yall meet a work

He teases you, goes on missions with you, pranks Kunikida with you

But it’s not until your ability goes haywire and you’re hurt one day that he realizes he likes you

From then on, he hugs you when your ability acts up

Nullifying you and getting a hug

A win win in his book

Little things change

He does his paperwork, doesn’t drink as much, teases you more, and makes less suicide attempts

Though, he can’t confess

You’re too good, he can’t ruin you with his depression and violent past

But, what if you say no?

He thinks it’s a lose lose

What a dumb thing for such a smart guy to think?

He finally decided to confess when Ranpo tells him that it’s a good idea

(Ranpo, the world's greatest detective, can obviously tell you like Dazai and he likes you. Why not be the wingman for the new it couple?)

“Dazai… the entire agency knows. And I’ll tell them for you… unless you get me a snack. Yknow, I’m no romance detective, but love is in the air.”

So… he brings you to the Port

Wins you a cute little teddy at a game slot

He’s about to confess

But… before he can speak

“Dazai, I like you!”

You like him. You. So incredibly intelligent, strong, kind? He’s smart, but would’ve never seen this coming

He noticed how the ocean twists

You ability acts up and is causing the hydrogen and oxygen to disconnect

You’re practically shaking with nerves

So… he hugs you

Not a kiss… he would never rush such a perfect moment

The ocean calms, you ability nullifies

Now that you’re dating, the question are WORSE

“Did you change the atoms in my brain so I love you?” “One, no. Two, that’s not how love works!”

Brags to everyone, even if it’s annoying

Just adores you

Thinks he could die happy

Although, he’d much rather live to love you

Makes sure that all your missions are local so he can get to you incase electrons start buzzing around

Calls you dumb things, stupid science jokes, it’s a headache

Overall, so smart but sooo stupid

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶

Thinks you’re the coolest!

Likes to think your abilities are similar and you two have a connection

Also… a bit dumb

So he asks so many questions

What, he’s fascinated with you and he wants to know as much as he can

“Valence electrons? What?” “What do ya mean I can’t see em? Too small?”

Even if he’s technically the strongest in the entire Port Mafia, thinks you’re better

I mean, he can control gravity but you can manipulate matter!

Thinks that you’re a gift for all his years of hell and unluckiness

Even if you’re just a friend… for now

Never EVER lets you go on missions alone

Makes sure at least one of his trusted subordinates is with you

And if that can’t happen, he’ll make sure Mori gives Chuuya you’re a dangerous work

He’ll miss sleep to take your work, just so you’re safe

If you’re ever overwhelmed, he’ll float you off the ground

Makes sure that you can calm down

Maybe it’s the air higher up, maybe the scenery?

Or… maybe it’s his arms wrapped tight around you

He realizes during one of these moments how much he loves you

“Shh, it’s okay. You ability is stable and you’re safe.”

After asking Kouyou for advice, he’s ready to confess

Buys roses, wine, a jazz record, and a little stuffed animal

Knocks on your apartment when…

You open the door… looking stunning.

“Chuuya? What’re you doing here?”

A gorgeous red outfit, styled hair and makeup. He used his ability to float the gifts to the ceiling so you wouldn’t see.

“Oh… you look pret- I mean! You’re so dressed up.”

“Yeah… was about to leave.”

His heart sunk, although his cheeks warmed at the sight of you in such a beautiful outfit.

“Do you have a date?”

“Date? No, I don’t.”

What a relief!

“Well, what’s the occasion?”

“… I really like you Chuuya! I was gonna try and find you at work now!”

Oh woah… did he just die and go to heaven?

Gives you the sweetest kiss (It’s definitely his first)

Now that you’re dating, he spoils you

Remember how no one is allowed to put you in danger?

Before, he’d let other watch you

But now he’ll clear his day just for your safety

Tries to learn as much as he can about science so he can talk with you even more

“Damn it… electron sea? I thought we had seven seas already?”

Overall? Perfect 11/10

#bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfic #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #bsd dazai #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x you #JACKIEPACKIEESTORIES

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everestgale · 5 months ago

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Skeptic for the ask thingy? :D

I'm getting through these so slowly 😭 Sorry for the wait! Time to ramble about everyone's favorite detective bird-

[Send Me a Character and I'll List Ask Game]

favorite thing about them

Weirdly, it's the contrast between how intelligent and logical Skeptic is as a character vs. how absurd and irrational the Construct is. The way Skeptic fights and seeks universal singular truth in a world that, by design, does not have any... which was so masterfully highlighted in the Cage and the new Den. I remember genuinely exclaiming "SKEPTIC NO, STOP-" when the tunnel began collapsing (though in fairness, Hero is the one who started it). And the way Skeptic blamed himself for not "thinking it through," because that's how he thinks the world around him should work:

"Why for the love of everything did I not think about the stability of the tunnels?! I'm supposed to be smarter than this! I'm supposed to have a plan for everything."

And the entire dialogue with Hero following that line, too-

...Long story short, there is something very tragic but incredibly appealing about putting a character, who is all about facts, logic, and deduction, into a world that shifts based on your perception where nothing is certain. Sorry Skeptic, love you Skeptic </3

[What's up with all these asks getting so long... more under the cut </3]

least favorite thing about them

Rewritten and deleted lines from the Prisoner. Hands down. It's one of the few things I dislike about the DLC, and I choose to not accept it as canon. I really, really miss that triumphant "I knew it!" followed by "She couldn't tip her hand to Him. He wouldn't have let us leave." It really highlighted Skeptic's intelligence, along with an innate desire to trust the Prisoner, to think of her as someone with a plan. She wouldn't just cut off her own head like that, and he knew it.

I understand that this was done to make the lead-up to the Cage easier / more natural... but I feel like there were other ways to do it! Hero is right there, and he just watched Prisoner cut her head off, he could be disturbed and panicking about the whole situation and really want to leave, which would feel quite natural too! And then perhaps Skeptic was sure that Prisoner had a plan, but after you choose to leave her behind... he isn't so sure anymore, which could lead to him slowly losing his mind and devolving during the Cage. That would've been perfect, at least in my opinion!

Honorable mention goes to the fact that, even after the Pristine Cut, he still feels a little underutilized to me. I talked about it in my Paranoid character ask, but Deconstructed Damsel -> HEA should've had Skeptic instead of Paranoid (T v T)

favorite line

"You have the attention span of a fly. How are we supposed to unravel the mysteries of this place if you're so easily distracted by empty promises?"

Honestly I feel you, Hero, I also have the attention span of a fly-

And of course, how can I not mention: "Yes, yes, don't believe a word she says. Just go in, take the knife, and do what you're supposed to. Wink."

brOTP

I already talked about how I really like the Grey Brothers (Skeptic + Smitten) dynamic in Smitten's post, it's very fun to imagine these two as very different people who have very little in common... but who still care about each other.

But I also want to mention Skeptic + Hunted. I liked the idea of them being comfortable in each other's spaces even before the extended Den. And with them working together so well in the Den post-Pristine Cut, I think they would have a pretty close friendship.

Everest trying really hard to explain a dynamic they like, without resorting to just "they cool. me like them"-

OTP

For the record, I HC my Skeptic as aroace (or demiromantic asexual, I haven't fully decided yet). That will not stop my QPR-Skeptunist from completely taking over my brain <3

There is something very appealing about their dynamic - Opportunist is trying to get on Skeptic's "good side" and is interested in how intelligent Skeptic is (and how he could utilize that intelligence for his schemes), while Skeptic is curious about Opportunist and that rat brain of his (/aff), trying to see what's beneath those layers and layers of masks that Oppy likes to wear. In a way, they are both almost trying to outsmart one another, but from a place of curiosity... which could lead them to slowly enjoy each other's company :]

Also, this ship is really funny, and it's hilarious to imagine all the stupid scenarios they find themselves in- OH, and I wrote this on them like a month ago:

"I do genuinely feel like they would, not always but often, enjoy each other's company and yap - we all know that Skeptic is listening to Oppy's endless rambles to understand that gremlin mind of his, but I feel like he would come to like Oppy's weird plans and logic as a sort of 'new perspective' - and Oppy really appreciates someone acknowledging 'his genius,' and maybe in turn, he would also listen to Skeptic's esoteric rambles on stenography (it feels like they would be interesting, and depending on the topic, Oppy could actually be genuinely interested in Skeptic's yap in like a "oh, this would be helpful for my next scheme" kind of way)"

...I like this ship way too much for how little they interact in the game (which is "not at all")

Honorable mention almost goes to ParaSkep, courtesy of @/wintergrofyuri and @/itsonlypolite. It's so close to clicking with me (it feels like a dynamic I would like, I want to like them)... but it's just barely not it, I don't know what exactly, but something is missing / just not quite clicking with me (T v T)

nOTP

Don't think I have any nOTPs for Skeptic! I haven't seen any ship with him that I disliked :]

random headcanon

I already mentioned like 3 headcanons in this post: the fact that my Skeptic is aroace (or demiromantic ace), the fact that my Skeptic knows shorthand (and writes exclusively in it), the fact that Skeptic is actually a yapper who likes to explain and go in-depth on the topics he finds interesting... /silly

Let's add another one! I like the idea of a linguistics nerd Skeptic, who is really into the etymology of words (I talked about it in this post where I talked about voice's hobbies!), sounds like the kind of thing Skeptic would be interested in.

Are any of these HCs based on anything from the game? Nope! These are all entirely based on ✨ vibes ✨.

unpopular opinion

To be honest, I don't know what counts as an "unpopular opinion" for Skeptic. I don't think I have any? At least none that I feel strongly about, most of my opinions about Skeptic are either directly based on the lines from the game OR are completely irrelevant silly HCs based on nothing but my own likes lol

song i associate with them

I very rarely listen to just instrumental music (outside of lo-fi and a couple specific artists)... but none of the songs I listen to really fit Skeptic. And so my first instinct is... the original Objection! theme from Phoenix Wright-

Also Open the Game by Jiro. Not the kind of music I usually listen to, but a friend suggested it to me as "music that fits Skeptic" a while ago, and I agree with my friend, I think it really suits him in terms of musical style :]

favorite picture of them

...I'm going to be honest, I'm currently debating if I should give Skeptic a major re-design (because something about his current design just irks me). But if I had to pick an image for Skeptic that I made, it would be this-

...I don't think I shared this before (I probably will in a doodle dump of "voices in dresses" sometime in the future), but this is Skeptic in Alice in Wonderland's dress. A few friends and I joked too much about how awful of a time Skeptic would have in Wonderland, and so this was born!

#ask #slay the princess #eg chatting #voice of the skeptic #it's 1200 words on Skeptic WHY IS IT SO MANY WORDS /lh #stp headcanons

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valentine-cafe · 2 months ago

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May I ask for a bungeoppang please?

(GN)

Yes!!!! Loved seeing the golden retriever x black cat one! Now if I may ask, how would that translate into more intimate interactions and moments? Just imagining so many things; from aftercare, to being affectionate in the open, to alone together in the bedroom. My mind is filled with so many what if’s!

-🎐

🍒 𓂃 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑷 : bungeoppang !! . . . grim reaper detective⊹ gn reader .

. ᘛ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔﹕verse 9948e ꮽ kyung seong-jin

𐔌𖹭 ˖ ࣪ who's that ?⠀﹕a diurnal grim reaper detective, stoic and intelligent.

ּ ֗ recepit ℘ ... how is seong-jin with his golden retriever s/o behind closed doors and in the open? ⊹ cw ٬٬ smut . flustered seong-jin <3 . silly sex . flaccid pp .

Seong-jin might not initiate physical affection, but he sure as hell is greedy about it. It's a great thing that his golden retriever partner is all about love-bombing him. Even if he might not give general reactions, his hands fixed on your waist, hips or idly stroking on your hair tells you that he sure as hell will yank you back onto him if you try to get up.

You have more energy than him during aftercare. Which puzzles him, wasn't he just fucking your back out? How the hell are you so bubbly all of a sudden? Here he is, so tender in his kisses down your body he's marked up. Placing you in the tub to wash your twitching skin, and you're throwing you arms around his neck and giggling about how good he was. That's not apart of the script — he's supposed to be praising you. He's flustered every time.

Any of his affection or initial sexual advances are met with squeals from you. He's leaning a forearm above your head to trap you and you're putting two hands over your mouth and squealing with big eyes. He can't not smile and just immediately resort to kissing you silly.

How you can crack jokes while he's ball's deep inside of you beats him. But you even manage to bring chuckles out him at times. While at other times he'll stuff your mouth with his fingers or tell you to behave — he's grown to love how talkative you are during sex.

What he does not like is how you coddle his flaccid penis. How you dote over it and call it cute. The first time you saw it, he felt as though he would die then and there with how you immediately went to cup it and call it adorable, only to get confused when he got hard in your hand. Because, what exactly were you expecting?

He will get a bit pouty if he comes home and isn't immediately greeted by your arms thrown around his neck and kisses all over his face. You've spoiled him far too much. You always tease him once you catch onto it and give him all the kisses he missed and more.

#﹙ cupcake rush. ﹚: seong-jin 9948e 𖹭 ݁#monster boyfriend #teratophillia #smut #monster fucker #monster x reader #terato #detective x reader #grim reaper x reader #oc x reader #monster oc #x gn reader #reader insert #gn reader #original character x reader #seong-jin 9948e #asterism

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mya-valentine · 8 months ago

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Headcanon: Heizou with a Criminal S/O

Heizou is instantly captivated by you, not just because of your charm but because of the mystery surrounding your criminal background. He’s fascinated by how someone so clever and cunning managed to evade detection for so long. It’s a puzzle he can’t resist solving.

Heizou enjoys teasing you about your criminal activities. He’ll throw in comments like, “I bet you thought you could outsmart the great Detective Shikanoin, didn’t you?” or “You’re lucky I’m on your side—or am I?” His playful banter is a way to keep things light between you, though he’s always aware of your capabilities.

Despite your past, Heizou respects your intelligence and resourcefulness. He knows it takes a sharp mind to pull off some of the things you’ve done, and he can’t help but admire that. In return, you respect his detective skills, even if they sometimes clash with your lifestyle. There’s an unspoken acknowledgment of each other’s talents.

As much as Heizou enjoys the thrill of being with someone like you, he’ll often try to steer you away from trouble. “I know you’re tempted, but maybe stay clear of any big heists tonight?” He’s always looking out for you, even if he knows you might not always listen.

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether you and Heizou are playing a game of cat and mouse or if you’re genuinely in a relationship. He’ll often joke about how he’s going to “catch you in the act” one day, but there’s always a playful tone behind it. You both thrive off the tension and excitement this dynamic brings.

While Heizou might not completely condone your actions, he won’t harshly judge you for them either. If he finds out you’re planning something, he’ll simply say, “I’d hate to see you get caught—by someone other than me, that is.” His subtle warnings are his way of showing he cares about your safety.

Sometimes, Heizou will consult with you on cases he’s working on. He knows your background gives you a unique perspective on crime, so he values your input. “If you were in their shoes, how would you have done it?” It’s a strangely intimate bond, discussing how to outsmart criminals while you were once one yourself.

Despite being on opposite sides of the law, there’s a deep understanding between you two. Heizou knows that your criminal past doesn’t define you entirely, and you know that his work as a detective doesn’t mean he’ll betray your trust. There’s a delicate balance in your relationship that both of you respect.

Heizou is fiercely protective of you, especially when your past catches up to you. If you’re ever in danger or targeted by other criminals, he won’t hesitate to step in. “I might let you get away with a lot, but no one messes with you on my watch,” he’d say, standing between you and the threat.

Being with Heizou is never boring. The mix of your criminal tendencies and his detective instincts keeps the relationship exciting and full of adrenaline. Whether you’re teasing him with near-miss confessions or helping him solve cases, there’s always a sense of thrill between you two.

If you ever manage to get away with something suspicious, Heizou will have fun interrogating you—half-seriously, half-jokingly. “So, where were you last night? And why do I have the feeling you’re not telling me everything?” His sly smile betrays that he’s more amused than actually suspicious.

Heizou might be a detective, but when it comes to you, he’s willing to bend the rules. If you’re ever caught up in something risky, he’ll do what he can to keep you out of trouble—even if it means covering for you. He trusts that you won’t put him in a compromising position, and that trust is key to your relationship.

The dynamic between you and Heizou is a constant push and pull. He’s always trying to keep you on the straight and narrow, while you’re always testing the limits of what you can get away with. It creates a playful tension that keeps the relationship exciting.

Despite your past, Heizou never forces you to change or stop being who you are. He respects your independence and understands that you won’t give up your lifestyle entirely. Instead, he works with you to find a balance—where you can still be you, but without causing too much trouble.

When things are calm, and it’s just the two of you, Heizou will occasionally open up about his fears. He worries about the risks you take and confides in you about how he wants you to be safe. “I just don’t want to lose you to something stupid,” he’d admit, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a rare moment of vulnerability.

Masterlist

#heizou shikanoin x reader #heizou x reader #genshin heizou #shikanoin heizou #shikanoin heizou x reader #genshin impact heizou #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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wildestdreamsblog · 2 years ago

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Latibule VIII

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

A/N: last two chapters before the end of season 1! Thank you for enjoying the ride with me 🫶🏻

Masterlist, Latibule VII

Jung Hoseok watched over the glass of whiskey he was was sipping from as the last living member of the group entered the room. He smiled at Kim Taehyung as he plopped down on the seat with an exhausted sigh.

“Well, don’t you look good, Tae,” Namjoon drawled, his eyes focused on his tablet as he was ever so busy.

“I have no time to remove my makeup, hyung,” he replied in annoyance as he pointed at the faux bruises he had on his face from taping his latest movie. “Someone insisted I’d be here at this exact hour.” His eyes shifted at Seokjin who hadn’t said a word since he arrived, merely looking at them with emotionless eyes as though they were under a microscope.

“So why are we here, then?” Jungkook voiced out the unspoken query they had between them,

Hoseok placed down his glass with a thud, leaning forward, his arms hanging on his spread knees as he eyed them with a smile on his face. “Don’t you think it’s time to elect a leader?” He inquired curiously, his head tilted to the side as though he was overtly concerned. “There’s only so much violence and chaos our Kookie can do before they start taking advantage of our current predicament.”

Namjoon’s eyebrow lifted as he paused his reading on the tablet. He raised his eyes to Hoseok, his intelligent mind running a mile per second. “And just in time for her death anniversary, hyung.”

Hoseok’s gritted his teeth, his eyes hardening at the mere mention of her, of the person he fucking lost, “It’s what she would’ve wanted, Joonie,”

“Is it?” He drone with tone dripping with boredom. “Funny, I remember clearly how she never wanted to be part of our world…or am I wrong?”

Jungkook looked up thoughtfully from his phone, “For someone who didn’t want to be part of our world, Noona sure did know her way around knives and poisons.”

Jimin clicked his tongue at the golden maknae, “Don’t speak ill of the dead, Kookie.”

“It was a compliment, hyung!”

Amidst the chaos of arguments between the two, Hoseok looked at their oldest hyung- the original prince of the underworld. “You’re quiet, hyung.” he observed dryly, his smile pleasant as though he wasn’t the traitor that he was. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Seokjin stared at him with coldness in his eyes, how he was raised as the mafia prince showing as he regarded him with apathy and calmness. If it was anyone, they would have ran from the hills and yet, running wouldn’t have saved them. Nothing could have saved them should Seokjin chose to end them. “I’m just thinking about the traitor. Do you think he’s sitting with us right now, Hoseok?”

—-

Dominant.

That was how you would describe his kisses. Your Suga never did once hesitate, his lips strong and certain. He kissed you like he was starved, like he had been in hell for far too long and you were his first and only reprieve. And in between his kisses, you could feel his lips stretched into a smile. What you did not expect was his hands- of how soft his hands were as they cradled your head closer to him. You didn’t expect to feel the tremble in his hands as though he was having a difficult time controlling himself. What you most didn’t expect was how gentle he was as he caressed your cheek as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

And you were too powerless from his kisses. You held on to his thick wrist as he rested his forehead on yours.

He was breathing as hard as you were, and when you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you with softness and sparkle in his eyes that you never saw before.

“Okay?” He asked. You smiled at him as you nodded twice. You closed your eyes and savored this moment, your hand tracing every part of his face, forcing yourself to commit how he was at the very moment to memory.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Perhaps, what you didn’t anticipate and never thought of in your wildest dreams was how clingy he could be, you meant, looked at him! He was the least person you’d thought of to want to cuddle from how you knew him. You meant, wasn’t he the person who valued his personal space that he once pushed you to the side when you walked an inch closer to him back when you barely knew him?

His arms tightened on your waist when you attempted once again to get up from the bed. Suga had your head tucked firmly on under his chin, his leg in between your legs which further secured you to him.

You couldn’t leave him without him knowing about it. Yet, this didn’t deter you from attempting to get up.

“You’re going nowhere today, Angel,” he ordered grumpily, his body inching even closer to you, his cheek rubbing on your head like the cat you thought he was.

“We need to get up. We have work-“

“No, we don’t. We’ll call in sick today,” he murmured stubbornly, his hand rubbing your back softly. “I just got you. I can’t let you go.”

You looked up at him, and you swore at this very moment he looked so at peace and content that you couldn’t help but agree.

And so, you two called in sick.

“Then what should we do today?”

“Let’s go to the beach.”

Beach was a two-hour travel by bus and it was so worth it. The weather was perfect, and everything was so bright except for your companion who you couldn’t comprehend why was wearing black. He had his long hair on a half-bun, his eyes emotionless as though he wasn’t the one who suggested going to the beach. When you asked him why he wanted to go to the beach, he said that it was what the internet said when he researched where to go with your special someone. He said it so unapologetically that you weren’t able to say anything.

But heavens did you love it here. Back when everything wasn’t as difficult, your family would always go to the beach. You weren’t exactly rich, but your parents did everything to provide for you and sent you to medical school. Your whole life was just ahead of you until the tragedy happened. You thought you would never be genuinely happy again, but seeing him walk alongside you, your hand secured in his and as the wind blew his dark hair and the sound of waves were the only thing that could be heard, you were so certain you were happy again.

Suga made you happy.

He watched you fondly with his hands in his pockets as you skipped on the fine sand, your eyes crinkled to the sides as you dipped your feet on the warm sea. The emotion he had a hard time naming was now apparent to him- he was enraptured by you. You absolutely looked like an angel, he thought. And he would do anything to not bring his hell on you.

And without you noticing, he took a photo of you with the phone you gifted him before. The photo turned out to be low-quality, the resolution grainy but despite all that, it proved to be his favorite photo of you.

You were happy with him, Suga thought. An angel like you was happy with him.

“Why didn’t we…” you trailed off, unsure on how to ask him. He looked up at you from his lunch. The two of you decided to eat in the quaint restaurant situated on the seaside, the locals and tourists alike swarmed the place.

“Why didn’t we what, Angel?” He questioned as he placed more meat on your rice.

“You know…”

“I seem to not understand what you mean, Angel,” he commented confusedly, yet when you looked up at him he was attempting so hard to hide his smile.

You glared at him, “Why didn’t we do it?”

“Oh, that,” he pondered with his fingers stroking his chin as though in thought. “I knew it. You find me irresistible and I can’t blame you-“

“I take it back. I take it all back-“

Suddenly, he leaned closer to you, his finger tilting your chin up to him. “You have no idea how difficult it was to stop myself from taking you last night,” he divulged, his eyes were serious. “But Angel, you deserve more than a quick night. You deserve to be romanced.”

Suga told you he would be right back after your lunch. He said that he saw something in the souvenir shop that Jackson junior would loved. You waited and waited, however, you thought he was taking a lot longer than he should have.

You decided that you would just go to the shop, after all it was near to the bus station. You walked out of the restaurant. The sun was about to set, making the place looked more ethereal. You found it both beautiful and sad. You wondered when you’d be able to see this again. You were about to cross the road when a strong hand pulled you back so swiftly that you had no choice but to slam your body to his, as his other hand guided your waist to him.

A strong, loud horn from the car reverberated on the otherwise peaceful street as it sped away, barely missing your form.

Fuck.

Holy shit.

People swarmed at you as they asked you if you were okay, but all you could hear was the sound of heart beating so loud. All you could focused on was the arms that saved you. You were both on the ground, his body beneath you after he saved you and you could feel his arms trembled against you.

All of the noise faded as you looked up at Suga, beside him laid the paper bag of what he bought the child. He was looking at you with alarm, the memory of you about to get hit by a car because you didn’t see it was still fresh in his mind.

“Suga-“

“I told you,” he started, his teeth gritted with panic and anger. “I told you I only got you. I told you I cannot fucking lose you- that I can never lose you. What the fuck were you thinking? Didn’t you see the car!?”

You didn’t.

That was the truth, you didn’t see much. Because if you did, you would have seen him walked to you just as you exited the restaurant. He was almost in front of you that time, and yet, you didn’t see him.

You feared your condition was near its extremity.

One week passed since your almost accident. You stared at the paper white walls decorated by several diplomas and certificates of him. The clinic was quiet, the only thing that could be heard was the door opening and your doctor seating in front of you. He sighed.

And you were used to this.

Initially, you were hopeful that there was a cure, that an operation was possible. But there wasn’t a cure- they could only prolong your eyesight for so long. And the operation was something you could never afford. You needed to go abroad for it, you needed to recuperate for months for it- all those things were out of your hands. Your condition started when you lost your parents at that tragic accident. Your father was the kindest and most hardworking man, and he had the moral of a saint. That, you thought, was his downfall.

It was late at night when your father witnessed a murder. It was a huge news, you remembered. A senator perished that night, and your father was the key witness to it all. Immediately, your whole world was flipped around. Your family had to go into a witness protection program, leaving the life you knew behind. The days were idle and quiet, but at night the three of you were in trepidation of what could have happened.

Until one night, the unthinkable happened.

Your father was on edge, saying that the three of you were no longer safe there, that the police was not all on your side. You remembered the car ride like it was yesterday. You remembered your father driving with urgency away from the safe house.

You remembered the sudden light aimed beside you, illuminating all three of your inside the dark car. You remembered your mother’s panicked scream, your father’s agitated movements as he tried to dodge the car all to no avail. And then you remembered a car slamming on your side.

You woke up a week later with a terrible news: your parents didn’t make it.

But you did.

It was another three months later when signs started manifesting. The impact from the car accident was so severe that it affected your eyes.

“Did you already prepare, Ms. Y/N?” The doctor asked kindly after several beats of silence.

You chuckled at his worried eyes. He had always been kind to you, offering you help, sending you pamphlets of where you could get help, even going as far as researching for a service dog. He had a fatherly concerned for you, and you appreciated him. “I’m going blind, Doc. Not dying,” you reprimanded him with humor in your voice.

He didn’t return your smile and instead, he sighed before pushing his glasses up. “Did you tell your family?”

A beat of silence. “I have none.”

“Do you have…anyone?”

It was dark when you arrived, your eyes focused on your feet as your conversation with your doctor played in your head. You had limited time. You were almost near when you looked up and saw Suga waiting for you outside your shared home. He smiled the moment he saw you, the sides of his eyes crinkled. He walked to you and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. Your face was buried on his muscular chest, inhaling his muscular scent.

He smelled like home, you thought.

Maybe you did have someone.

Maybe you had him.

“Affirmative, boss,” a man hidden in the shadows said in his earpiece, his eyes trained on the living leader of the mafia world. “Agustd is alive.”

Tip Jar

Latibule IX

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #mafia min yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #yandere min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #mafia bts

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legitidvleaks · 2 months ago

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Bane Perez (Gamekeeper) Character Day Letter

Tame Kindness can tame ferality, but it cannot subdue greed. (Obtainable from the Gamekeeper's Birthday event)

A Letter Marked for Further Investigation

Dear Miss Lamb, This letter is intended for your eyes alone.

In accordance with our earlier understanding, I have recently undertaken inquiries on your behalf and have endeavored to arrange and summarize the information thus obtained. These findings are derived from two principal sources: the police records and my own investigations. As you are aware, my brother was among the detectives assigned to the Oletus Manor massacre, and I myself am presently in the police service. Though my position is not of the highest rank, it affords me some influence which, in theory, ought to have greatly facilitated my inquiries. Yet, when I sought to consult with other officers involved in the original investigation, I found them either resolutely silent or, like my brother, vanished without a trace. The process of accessing the police files was likewise fraught with difficulty. In the end, I succeeded only in obtaining the closing records, being denied access to the investigative files themselves. The final case files contain but scant clues, most of which you were already apprised of during our last meeting. However, two lists therein captured my particular attention. One is a list of the deceased; the other, of the missing. The list of the deceased contains three names: the proprietors of the manor, Mr. and Mrs. DeRoss, and the gamekeeper, Bane Perez. Yet, curiously, Bane Perez's name is ultimately struck through. The list of the missing comprises four names: the forest ranger Blanche and his wife and child, along with the gamekeeper, Bane Perez. Of these, only the name of Blanche's son remains unstruck; the others have been crossed out, with annotations indicating that the Blanches died of illness and that the case for Bane Perez was withdrawn. In the aftermath of the Oletus Manor tragedy, the police, hampered by a shortage of manpower, could only initiate a missing persons investigation upon the filing of a report. Bane Perez was added to the list of the missing a full week after the incident. This corroborates our earlier supposition: that there was, in fact, at least one individual who reported a matter related to Oletus Manor, or at the very least, to Bane Perez. Alas, I was but a child at the time and recall little of that notorious case. In subsequent perusal of the newspapers from that period, I found no names connecting these clues, save for the infamous "Cursed Woman." By the same token, the individual who withdrew the case must also satisfy this condition. Concerning this person, I have some intelligence to share, for my brother spoke of this peculiar case at supper shortly before his disappearance: "He was very young, with fair skin and medium-length chestnut hair, scholarly in appearance and bespectacled—hardly the type for manual labor. Although he provided all the necessary identification and documentation on behalf of the Cursed Woman, I could not credit his claim of kinship." Such was my brother's description of the man who withdrew the case. I recall it clearly, for after that night, my brother was called away on a new investigation and never again returned home for supper—until the day he disappeared.

Following this lead, I chanced upon a copy of the Cursed Girl's identification among the original case withdrawal records. Guided by this, I journeyed to her homeland—a small town nestled in the mountains of Cantabria. There, I found what might be called his family: a large but impoverished household, comprised of an elderly couple and their numerous children. In conversation, it became clear that most of them were scarcely acquainted with Bane Perez, to the point that he was a stranger to nearly all. Save for the Ortega father and son. After Bane Perez's father passed, his mother remarried old Ortega, who himself had a son, Navarro Ortega, by a previous marriage. Navarro was six years Bane's junior. One might expect such an age gap and complex family ties to breed discord, yet Navarro alone was willing to speak with me about Bane.

"We were all poor then, but he looked after me, so we got along well. He and my father, however, never saw eye to eye, and after his mother died, things grew worse between them. I knew what my father was after…" He gestured toward his father, a stooped yet vigorous old man loudly disputing with a neighbor over a haystack. "But what could I do? I was just a boy myself. When Bane left, I told him he ought not return, for his own good—though in truth, it was my father who bade me say so. He was quite saddened by my words, but in the end, I believe it was for the best. I know my father… and I know Bane. Staying would have done him no good." "Did he never return after that?" I inquired of Navarro. He nodded, then, as if struck by a thought, went inside and produced a letter for me. The letter was from an individual inquiring whether Bane had returned home, and requesting that, should Bane do so, he be informed that the writer intended to visit in three months' time. It was signed simply, "A friend of Bane Perez," the handwriting elegant and clearly that of an educated person. The letter was dated one week after the case's withdrawal. Regrettably, Navarro had lost the envelope and could not recall the place of origin. "Did this friend ever come?" I asked Navarro. He shook his head. "No, neither Bane nor that person was ever seen again."

Miss Lamb, as we have previously agreed, the mysterious informant is the key to all our inquiries. It is most unfortunate that this lead has now grown so faint, yet my instincts as a detective tell me that the enigmatic individual who withdrew the case may yet prove to be the breakthrough, whether in your investigation or in the matter of my brother's disappearance. Should you possess any information or thoughts concerning this person, I implore you to contact me at your earliest convenience.

Yours faithfully, Inspector Frye Reed

#identity v #idv #legitidvleaks #bane perez #idv gamekeeper

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witchygagirlwrites · 4 months ago

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No Leftovers

Jay Halstead x Voight Daughter Reader (Nicknamed Little Bird/Birdie)

You make a move back home to Chicago and face your past. Along with it you meet your dad and Erin's unit which includes Jay Halstead. He pursues you but you are tired of coming in second to Erin.

Warnings: Erin is not the usual sweetheart and Voight has issues with his daughter

“So, I need some help” you knew as soon as you called Justin and said those words your brother would be on high alert. “What’s wrong Birdie?” you laughed lightly “Not like that Justin. I got a new job”

You heard him audibly sigh a breath of relief “Lead with that. Had me wondering how me and Al are gonna make it to Boston in enough time to cover up whatever happened” you laughed lightly “Well it’s good news because I get to see you more regularly but unfortunately it also means I’m going to have to be working with dad and Erin” he sucked in air between his teeth “Shit, little sister. You’re the new A.D.A they hired?” “That’d be me. I need a place so think you could help me out?” he chuckled “I’m guessing you don’t want dad to know?”

When you answered with silence he laughed again “Ok then, I’ll call a few people. How are we doing this?” You looked around your apartment “The idea is that if you can find a place, I’ll just ship my stuff and if need be I can send you some money to help pay movers or something unbox” “You send your stuff, I’ll get the place set up. I’ll call you in a day or two” he told you and you smiled, you knew you could rely on Justin. “Thank you” “I got you baby sis” he replied before you told each other goodbye and hung up.

You sat down on the couch and looked around. You liked Boston, you really did but damn you missed Justin. You never got to visit your mom’s grave. You hadn’t seen Al and his family in years. Trudy had gotten married and you’d simply been able to send a gift.

The pay was more in Chicago, the benefits were better and you got to be home. The only fall back was you had to work with your dad and his golden girl. You refused to let those two keep you away from Chicago and your brother any longer.

“I’ll be fine Justin” you were trying to convince him that you would be ok. He’d managed to not only find you a decent place in a decent neighborhood, within your price range but he’d set it up himself to have it ready for you and had kept you a secret for the last two weeks while you ran around signing off on your paperwork with the district’s attorney office and just getting adjusted to being home.

You didn’t need him to take the day off his job to hold your hand on your first day. Just because the D.A. decided to throw you to the wolves from the word go. You parked in front of the twenty-first precinct, grabbed your briefcase and climbed out of your suv and headed for the door. You squared your shoulders as you opened the door, fuck your dad or Erin. This was your job.

________________________

The moment you stepped in you heard Trudy’s voice “Oh my god. Birdie?” she was around the desk and pulling you into a hug before you knew it. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing at least one friendly face from the start. “Hey Trudy. Did you get my wedding gift?” she nodded “Thank you so much for the tickets to the bahamas. We had an amazing time” you shrugged “Least I could since I couldn’t make it back”

“I’ve missed seeing you” she told you once she let you go and you motioned with your briefcase “Well good news. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me. I’m here because I’m the new A.D.A. I was assigned the most recent case intelligence worked so I need to speak with a detective Halstead” she nodded “Come on, I’ll walk you up”

______________________

You followed her up the stairs and she stopped at the palm scanner then held the gate for you once it popped. “I wish you wouldn’t have stayed gone so long” you shrugged “I never meant to, just things happened” “I know sweetie” she replied as the two of you made it to the top of the stairs and damn near every set of eyes landed on you.

“Who are you?” one man asked and you had to admit he was good looking, probably older than you with tattoos sticking out of the sleeve of his shirt. You were about to introduce yourself when Al stepped around the corner “Little bird!” and quickly made it across the floor to pull you into his arms.

The commotion of someone new must have summoned everyone because two more men stepped out of the break room then your dad and Erin stepped out of his office. You felt yourself stiffen your spine immediately. “Birdie, what are you doing here?” he asked and you laughed lightly “Hey to you too dad”

“Dad?” all four men and the other woman who’d just come up the stairs behind Trudy echoed. You cut your eyes around the room and held your arms out “Surprise. Also I’m your new A.D.A.”

“You’re the new A.D.A.?” Erin asked and you cut your eyes at her “Yeah Lindsay. Why?” she shrugged “Just curious” you didn’t want to rise to the bait. “They sought me out and offered me twice my salary in Boston. Was worth it” you turned back to your dad “I’ve been assigned your most recent case. I need to prep your detective before court is the only reason I am here. The sooner I can do that, the sooner I can leave”

He held your eyes for just a second before nodding and waving one of the men over. When he got to you he smiled slightly and offered his hand “Jay Halstead ma’am” you nodded “Just A.D.A. Voight is good” he was handsome. Six foot, seafoam blue eyes and a smile to die for but you’d heard the name from Justin. This was your dad’s pick to take over the unit one day. “Want to speak in the break room. It will only take about fifteen minutes then you can get on with your day” he nodded “Of course” and waved a hand towards the break room.

When you started to walk away your dad called your name and you cut your eyes back “I’m at work sergeant. I’ll call you later” he nodded so you walked into the break room, pulling the file you needed from your briefcase and sat across from Jay.

______________________

You ran through the line of questioning you would do, the probable line of questioning the defense would take and made sure Jay was ready for any angle. When you were certain he was you stood, tucking everything into your briefcase. “I’ll see you in court” he watched you stand “I never knew Voight had a daughter” you scoffed “Not a biological one anyways?” he looked over his shoulder to where Erin had just walked past the open door. “Yeah”

You shrugged “We drifted after my mom got sick. Then when she died, it was only worse. Anyway, I’ll see you in court detective. Wear a suit and keep the temper I’ve heard about in check and we should be fine” “Yes ma’am. Was nice meeting you Y/N”

You walked out of the break room and nodded to Kim, Adam, Kevin and Antonio in turn “It was nice to meet you all” then headed for the steps. Not looking back when you heard your dad’s office door open. You’d spent years begging for scraps of affection from that man after your mom’s passing. You were done. Justin had one too many yelling matches with him on your behalf. He had his golden girl, the detective. You were just you.

You walked down the steps and smiled at Trudy “I’m back in town so we need to get together soon” she nodded “I’d love that” you gave her your number then headed back outside. You would be glad to get back to the office.

You laughed at Justin’s face. His girlfriend Olive had made dinner and it was really good but bless your brother when he’d attempted to add salt he’d not checked to make sure the lid of the shaker was secure so now his plate was effectively ruined. “You want the rest of mine?” you offered and Olive shook her head with a laugh “There’s more Birdie. I’ll get him more” he looked at her “I’ll get it. You and Birdie talk”

He’d wanted you and her to get to know each other better. You’d solely spent time with the two of them since coming back home anyways. Justin was the only person in your corner and Olive didn’t know the same people you did so there was no chance of her accidentally busting you out.

“Have you talked to Hank anymore?” she asked and you grimaced “Beyond the phone call to ask why I didn’t let him know I was moving back? No. I have court tomorrow though with one of his detectives to close a case” Justin walked back into the room and sat down next to you “How did Erin treat you?” you cut your eyes at him and he grinned slightly “That good huh?” you laughed “Sibling rivalry? I guess. I don’t mean to feel how I do but damn I am his daughter not her” Justin nodded “I know but that’s on him. You’re amazing birdie. If dad can’t see what type of woman you’ve become don’t let that affect you. I’m proud of you and mom would be” you smiled at him “Thank you Justin” he nodded “Now eat” you rolled your eyes “Yes big brother” and that made Olive laugh.

Jay normally hated being on the witness stand but with you as the A.D.A.? He was mesmerized watching you work. You owned the courtroom. He’d never seen anything like it. You had the defense attorney floundering and when you questioned him he found himself biting the urge to follow your steps with his eyes as you walked. Where the hell had you practiced law before now?

Once the questioning was handed over to the defense attorney he watched you play with a pencil and knew when you grinned and called an objection that the defense had stumbled themselves even before the judge called a sustained

The final conviction came down and you’d gotten the highest for the perp. He’d killed two women in the process of trafficking victims. He would never see the light of day as a free man again.

Somehow you’d gotten talked into going out to a bar called Mollys. Apparently a couple of the firefighters from Fifty one owned it. Good enough for you. You were sitting by yourself at the bar when Jay walked up next to you “Can I sit A.D.A. Voight?” you rolled your eyes “Everyone calls me Birdie, Jay” he grinned “Birdie”

He sat down and looked at you “You were amazing in court yesterday” you nodded “Working in Boston will do that to you. That’s a huge circuit” he shrugged “Still, I have to admit that was the first time I didn’t hate being in court. You’re something to watch”

You raised an eyebrow “Jay are you trying to compliment me?” he nodded “I am actually” you laughed “Thank you I guess?” he grinned “Plus you’re the prettiest D.A. that I’ve ever been questioned by” you shook your head “and you work for my dad” he shrugged “Not working right now. Let me buy you a beer”

“Ok” you agreed and he smiled “Ok” and waved Herrman over to order two beers.

______________________

You were talking to Jay for the better part of two hours. You had to admit he wasn’t just a pretty face. He seemed like a decent guy too. He was sweet and easy to talk to. “So, is there any way I can get your number?” he asked and you shrugged “Why not”

You’d just gotten through giving him your number when Justin sat down on your other side, death glaring at Jay “Foster sister wasn’t enough? You had to go for Birdie too?”

@desimarie12

You looked from Justin to Jay. “What’s he mean?” Justin nodded at Jay “Loverboy didn’t tell you? Him and Erin were a thing” your head swung around towards Jay “What?” he cut his eyes towards Justin “Like two years ago!” you shook your head and stood up “Take me home Justin” and looked back at Jay “I spent my childhood getting Erin’s hand me downs, I don’t need or want anymore. Forget I gave you my damn number” and stormed out.

Friends?

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