#i had to file some remnants of them off the back it's ROUGH

[vector-to-the-heavens]

it's Magical Girl Monday babes!!1!

i have tasted power and i cannot be stopped i will absolutely be printing the rest of the soul gems and sailor senshi wands

[selfspinninglies]

Just gonna post what i have of that wip now uh keep in mind this is probably really rough its almost 12:30am when i post this

cws/tws: blood, dissection (not detailed at all), messing with dead bodies, mild body horror, a really breif mention of vomiting, implied kidnapping/murder[?], not technically cannibalism but a part of a person is eaten on accident

Sawyer had always been a meticulous person.

They had always picked up small details. Some insignificant (at least in those moments, they argued that anything could become relevant later), and some more integral parts of people that were hidden deep inside that could be easily prodded out with a bit of observation. People were like a collection of items, splayed across a table and hidden in boxes, locked with the key thrown somewhere in the scatter.

They had always enjoyed picking apart those items. Analyzing the catalogue and dissasembing the bits and pieces, bloody hands tearing away at all of the layers that humanity had to offer with clumsy hands. Digits that did not belong there.

Occasionally, things would break, pried apart too harshly and snapped into small bits that offered more insight. A puzzle piece framed in viscera, prying eyes privy to the secret of something ugly under sheets, akin to a disfigured body in a casket. The illusion of something unproven.

They often envisioned themself as that body, that puzzle piece, the barely concealing sheet over something unseen, something that should never be seen. A sheet that was stitched on, a casket locked tight with the key thrown away. Because there was something underneath that was far too much.

If they were ever scrutinized and dissected in the way that they did to others, if their items were to be ripped apart and studied, nothing would be found, because the items are all artificial, planted there to decieve and mislead. There were no puzzle pieces because the puzzle had been completed with neat, steady, clean hands and smile, presented politely.

An uncanny babble of the correct words would pass their lips, and that would be the end of Sawyer's case file.

If the layers were to be peeled back, locks forcibly removed, threads undone, there would still be nothing. Because underneath that were more layers, locks, and stitches, shoddily thrown together defenses to hide things that they had long forgotten.

Wounds had always bled, had always left trails, and eventually someone would smell the metallic tinge in the air.

When they were younger they had quickly realized that something was wrong with them. Or perhaps it wasn't wrong, just strange and unheard of. But in human society that was essentially the same thing.

Their body had properties that others did not. It melted and cracked like it was poorly constructed, extra eyes sat underneath their larger ones (though always closed and brushed off as a strange birthmark), and in the middle of their neck, an extra mouth streched itself out, containing inanely sharp teeth (that were always covered with something resembling a bandage).

They had also discovered that they could survive far more than regular humans should be able to. Though, they should probably rephrase, as there was no explanation for them being human and having these properties.

Many terrible accidents had peppered their childhood which they realistically would have died from. They didn't remember the details, the only remnants of it were distant feelings of tears and the sound of something desperately human wrenching out of them.

They had been more careful, and after then the shell started growing, clamped around them, a poorly fitted mold to be contorted in the shape of. An odd facsimilie, crafted with nothing but apathy and necessity.

Despite all of their efforts, they had been found out, assumedly.

That was the first conclusion that they reached when they woke up in an abandoned warehouse of some sort.

There was no evidence of anything. The items had been taken, there was no casket to speculate, their eyes had been covered (non literally). Whose hands were over their face this time?

They stood up rather quickly, head aching at the action. Sedative affects? Or just regular head pain?

The first and second realizations came fast and hard, a cruel derail of their current train of thought:

One, the place smelled of blood, to the point where they could taste it if they breathed. It was all over them, too, but it wasn't clear if it was theirs or what the source of it was.

Two, the one that really punched them in the face: they did not remember coming here. Or where here was. Everything before here was muddled, like their head had been drowned in molasses. Everything felt heavy. The world was shown through blurry, tinted glass that they could not yet decipher the colors of.

Both were terrifying revelations, yet they felt slightly calm. There were items to pick at. A puzzle to be solved.

.

.

.

Those items had turned out to be the source of the smell.

There were people, ones who's faces envoked some sort of vague memory in Sawyer, though they didn't remember anything outside of that. They were likely strangers that they'd passed by, nameless, meaningless faces. At least, that's what they hoped for, to justify the inevitable.

At first, they searched their clothes, the three of them all had nothing of value.

They exhaled.

Whoever put them here had seemed to know them all too well, because on an adjacent table, there was a strangely clean knife. They gripped it tightly, ridgid stance and uncomfortable hands

They did what they did best and dissected.

.

.

After the work, they had found two keys and a tag with an address on it embedded. As expected, whoever dumped them here had wanted this.

They sat down, accidently leaning against one of the vessels. They didn't pay it much mind to it, they were already disgusting and the thing was dead anyway, so it didn't matter. A distant thought came. It probably didn't want them to do this.

Slowly, they picked themself up and hugged the thing. Arms loosely draped around the vessel, head resting on its shoulder. A small, uncharacteristically honest whisper worked its way out of their mouth, oddly gentle despite what they had just done.

"Sorry. I had to."

They flinched at their own words. They did not deserve the grace of giving apologies. Their hands had moved with practice, devoid of remorse. It was clear from that action that regret of this strain was not in their nature. They had been given claws to tear and teeth to bite for a reason.

So they did the next logical thing and continued to hurt.

They bit down hard on the shoulder they rested on. It tasted like metal, and felt absolutely horrid going down. They had accidentally taken a chunk off.

Immediatley an intense wave of guilt crashed over them. They didn't know why, it was just deduced that they were not meant for this. Something had nested inside of them that was painfully human and foreign: grief.

Grief for someone they did not know and would never know. Grief for what had been done to its- their body.

Their eyes burned, water pricking at the edges and blurring their vision. Why? The question was repeated in their head so many times, yet there was no answer.

They shuffled closer to the corpse, now leaning directly against the exposed organs, and lay there, sobbing and whispering in the dingy space. Blood and tears mixed into something ugly that stained them on the surface and the inside. Remnants of this incident would ve there in memory.

They peeked over the shoulder after a bit, the same shoulder that they had torn into, with a gaze akin to that of an anxious child peeking over their parent's shoulder, unsure and afraid. So very afraid. Fear had also invaded them, trickling into their veins in an unpleasant manner.

They felt awfully ugly in that moment. Viscerally aware of how their body felt. Cracking and melting. Defective in some odd way. Vomit rose and fell, never actually escaping.

It had taken an uncomfortable amount of time for them to get up and collect themself.

They took the unlabeled key and unlocked the door, stepping out into uncaring winds that made them aware of how blood-sticky they were.

Despite all of their usual planning, after locking the door, they walked, unthinking. Aimless. A part of their mind nagged at them to find out where they were, get new clothes, and go to that address, but most of it was focused on what had transpired in the warehouse.

This would be another layer, a separate casket where three bodies lay, dissected like a high school biology project, another door behind lock and key. This was standard. It was fine.

The only thing that was truly in Sawyer's nature was lying.

They never dared to look those people in the eye.

[mellowswriting]

Nightmare

pairing || Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary || Bucky struggles to calm down after a particularly rough nightmare - it’s a good thing you’re there to lend him a hand.

word count || 1,799

warnings || hurt and comfort, love confessions

a/n || So I started writing this before the first episode of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier even came out (because I’m incorrigible) so if it’s a little off, that’s why. As someone who’s gone through all that fun trauma-based therapy, seeing Bucky working on himself is validating as fuck. I tried to emphasize that while a good relationship can help after trauma, it doesn’t complete the healing process or suddenly make a person whole. Anyway, enjoy!

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“Bucky?” Your voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I…” Bucky started but his words failed him. He couldn’t find a way to tell you about it without feeling like he was gutting himself, without bringing the images right back up to torment him all over again. The vulnerability left him trembling, dog tags clinking quietly against his bare chest with every heaving breath.

But he didn’t need to say it. You just nodded and sat down next to him on the blanket he had spread out on the hard floor. Remnants still prickled at the back of his neck, images and echoes of gunfire and that wide open emptiness that cracked his chest on every mission, but he got some small peace from your presence. He felt just a bit safer at the feeling of your knee pressed to his lightly. You didn’t probe him about it, didn’t try to weasel out details, and he was thankful. Instead you offered him your hand and in turn, offered your quiet support, and he gratefully slid his fingers up your palm to curl with your own.

The pressure of your fingers holding him was grounding, kept him in the reality of what was actually happening around him. He wasn’t in that building. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He wasn’t trapped behind a wall in his own mind. He was at home, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. He held your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his a sharp contrast to the imagined bite of gunmetal.

He was right there. So were you.

Your thumb slid up and down over his as you tentatively started speaking. “I used to click my tongue to keep myself grounded after nightmares.”

Bucky glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know it seems silly, but it worked for me more often than not.” You said with a small chuckle. “Sometimes I would have to tap if the clicking thing wasn’t working. It drove Tony crazy. He always said he could hear it all throughout the compound, but I think he was bullshitting. And if the tapping didn’t work, I would do sprints until my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore.”

Bucky took a long, deep breath the way his therapist taught him during their first session. Your voice was so calming. “Keep talking?”

“Of course.” You murmured. “It’s cheesy as hell, but they do get easier to deal with. The nightmares, I mean. The more you work at it, the less… vivid they are. I still get pretty bad ones every now and then, but even those are a little easier to come down from.”

“I hope you’re right.” He said.

“Well, you’re in therapy - even if it’s mandatory, you’re still showing up. Still putting in the effort. You’re sleeping semi-regularly, eating somewhat healthy. Trust me, you’re doing better than you realize. It takes a minute for you to ease out of survival mode, so it can be hard to tell how far you’ve already come.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

A breath caught in his chest as he turned to look at you where you leaned your head back against the wall. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Well, you did save me from getting shot that one time.” You teased and Bucky laughed quietly, a genuine one that seemed to surprise you. “But seriously. You’re a good person, that’s all you have to do.”

“No, I’m not.” The laugh turned self-deprecating. “I don’t have to tell you that, either. I know you’ve read the files.”

“That wasn’t you. That was Hydra.” Your free hand pressed against his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is you. You aren’t what they put in your head. You’re the person who went out and bought me a new coffeemaker in the middle of the night when mine broke so I wouldn’t have to go without caffeine the next morning. You’re the person who's mowed Mrs. Franklin’s yard twice a month since her husband passed. You’re the person who is working their ass off to get better.”

There weren’t words. He didn’t have them, the ones that could tell you how much he appreciated you, how much you meant to him. So he covered the hand you placed on his chest with his own, wishing he could actually feel you, but the prosthetic had its limitations with the enhancements given by the vibranium. You nodded at him, a quiet acknowledgement of his thanks.

Silence fell over you both. It was a comfortable one, not the heavy, oppressive silence that curled around him in the moments after waking. Your hand fell away from his chest, much to his disappointment. The skin against skin was comforting. A moment later you shifted onto your knees, ready to stand and seemingly leave him there, and Bucky tightened his grip on your hand instinctually.

“Please… don’t go.” His voice was small.

“I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And you did. You returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass of cool water, watching him take a few sips until you were satisfied, and then stole a sip for yourself. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that found him at the sight as you settled back in next to him and offered him your hand once more. He took it, but didn’t interlock your fingers like before. Instead he lifted your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, eyes falling closed at your cool skin against his warmth. Your thumb rubbed small circles along his cheekbone and when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him almost thoughtfully. Impulsively, Bucky tilted his head slightly and kissed the delicate skin of your wrist and he could hear your breath stutter in your chest.

“Bucky…” You whispered, worry suddenly played across your features.

“I talk about you in therapy, you know.” He whispered, his heart jumping in his chest at the prospect of telling you about it, admitting his vulnerability. “I told her about how you make me feel… seen. And safe. I told her about how I always think about you. About… kissing you. And making you laugh.”

You swallowed, the sound louder in the resounding silence of three a.m confessions. “And what did she say?”

“That she could tell I was in love with you before I would even admit it to myself.” He whispered the words as if breathing them to life would make the very earth crumble at his feet.

“I couldn't live with myself if I got in the way of your healing.” You said and his heart soared in his chest. You weren't rejecting him, weren't pulling away in disgust or fear. No, you were putting his needs first - or rather, what you perceived his needs to be.

“Part of my healing is supposed to be building relationships, you know.” There was a small smile on his face at the very thought of it - of falling asleep and waking next to you each morning, of finally getting to kiss and touch you like he craved for so long.

“So… we take it slow?” You said and Bucky watched your eyes flick down to his lips before meeting his gaze again, your body leaning closer as if drawn in by the very gravity that held you to the earth.

“Yeah, we take…” Bucky leaned in, meeting you halfway, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “...it…” You brushed your nose against his gently and he sighed contentedly, eyes finally falling closed. “...slow…”

The first press of your lips to his was soft. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple pleasure of a kiss, and the fact that it was you only made it all the better. He relaxed against you, pulling you closer by a hand on your waist and angling himself to deepen the kiss. Your gasp against his lips was addictive, something he could happily spend the rest of his life seeking out.

A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine at the feeling of your hand sliding up from his cheek to tangle in his hair, the short cropped style barely enough for you to grab onto. Fuck, you felt so good, he could lose himself in you without regret, could drown in the bliss that washed over him and -

He pulled away gently, offering one last peck against your lips as a parting gift, and pressed his forehead to yours to catch his breath, to calm himself down. He had to go slow and going slow decidedly was not dragging you onto his living room floor and finally letting his hands roam underneath your soft pajamas. You chuckled quietly and that was what got him to lean back and look at you again, dumbstruck by the dazed, happy look on your face.

“You’re good at that,” You whispered, earning you a bashful laugh.

“So are you.” Bucky sighed, the heavy weight of sleepiness gathering at his shoulders. “I need to try to go back to sleep… join me?”

“I think this floor would kill my back, sweetheart.” You teased and holy shit, his heart soared in his chest.

Sweetheart. He was your sweetheart.

“I was thinking we could share my bed, but if you’re gonna tease me -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Barnes.” You surprised him with another kiss before climbing to your feet, your hand reaching out to pull him up with you.

He couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight of you climbing into his bed, settling right into his rumpled sheets and looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to leave you waiting, not when he finally got you right where he wanted you. You yawned as you brought him closer to lay his head against your chest and he melted right into you. Bucky curled his arm around your middle, effectively bringing your bodies completely flush against each other.

“You’re so warm, Buck.” You mumbled, sleepiness already warping your voice.

Bucky just hummed, his own exhaustion finally seeping back into his body now that the remnants of paranoid tension eased away at the steady sound of your heartbeat reverberating against his ear. Your hand rested against the top of his head to tease at his hair once more, and it was that gentle affection that had his eyes falling closed. At peace for the moment, his mind let him fall back into sleep, knowing that when the nightmares inevitably found him once more, he would have you there to help guide him back to where he belonged.

Right in your arms.

[foli-vora]

Huge congratulations on the 1k followers 🥳❤️ you deserve it!!! Could I maybe request ‘massaging them’ with some smutty Dave York and f! Reader ❤️ xx

You’re too kind! 🥰 thank you so much, angel! I hope you enjoy ❤️

#16—massaging them

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Warnings: David James York (yeah I gave him a middle name—it’s basic, just like him please fill me with your babies Dave), one swear, 18+ ONLY smut—fingering, unprotected p in v, cockwarming, a brief barely there spank

He’s been watching you for the last half an hour, observing eyes locking onto you from over his laptop and files spread out in front of him on the table as you dawdle in the kitchen rearranging the cupboards for what feels like the twentieth time that month. He needs to cut you off from Pinterest.

He sees the twitch in your face when you stretch that little bit too far, notices the way you roll your shoulder and rub at the muscles, and it flags something deep in his system.

“What’s wrong?”

Your attention falls on him instantly, “Hm?”

“Your shoulder.”

You shrug, peeling another label from the sticker pack and rubbing it onto a jar. “It’s nothing. I think I have a knot somewhere in my back.”

He stands immediately, striding over to where you stand and running a firm hand along your back through the cotton of your dress. He presses to where you quietly direct him and feels the way you tense, body going rigid when his fingers roll over a particular muscle.

“Come on.”

“But I’m busy—”

“Come on.”

The quirk of his brow when you stay still is enough to make you move, giggling at the light slap you get to your ass as you pass by. He leads you to the bedroom, kissing your cheek softly as he asks you to undress and lay down, unbuttoning his shirt as he fetches the massage oil from your nightstand.

“And what are you doing?” You ask after moving to the bed and making yourself comfortable on your stomach, watching him strip with admiration.

“Giving you a massage.”

You snort lightly, “And you need to be naked to give me a massage?”

He scowls lightly at you, hand falling to lightly tug at his half hard cock as his head tilts almost curiously. “You’ve got a mouth today.”

“I’ve got a mouth every day, David.” You eye the movement of his hand, unable to resist letting your thighs press together for a brief moment of friction to ease the sudden stirring in your core.

“That’s for damn sure.” He scoffs with a small grin. “Get comfortable.”

You do as you’re told, burying your face in your arms as he climbs and straddles your upper thighs. You don’t expect the light trail of kisses along the skin of your back, pressing softly over the sore muscle he had probed in the kitchen, and squirm on the sheets with a muffled laugh as you feel the tell tale sign of a smile, his lips curving upwards against your skin.

Cool fingers smooth along your thighs, pushing briefly between the flesh of them to run along your slit, running through your folds and dipping into your wet pussy to gather the remnants of your earlier quickie over the counter.

He hums against your skin, working one, and then two, of his thick fingers gently in and out of you as you start to buck into the mattress.

The soft whine you let out when he pulls away turns into a quiet moan when you feel the head of his cock probe between your thighs, your hips raising ever so slightly to help him slide into your pussy. He fills you slowly, sinking inch by inch until you’re squirming from the fullness, unable to resist grinding back against him to relish in the feel of his cock dragging along your walls.

In your brief moment of pleasure, you miss the sound of a bottle opening and jump at the feel of cold oil hitting your back.

“Shit—that’s cold, you ass.”

Rough hands rub the oil along your skin, ensuring to coat every inch of your back before his fingers start to dig in, applying a firm pressure along the dips between your shoulders.

Unable to resist melting into the mattress, your body slackens from both the pleasure of his hands and the way his cock fills you, rubbing deeper within your pussy whenever he would lean forward to reach your upper back.

He relishes in the way your walls clench around him whenever he would press that little bit harder and run his thumbs along the bundled muscle, his cock throbbing with the temptation to pull back and just plunge into your wet heat again and again until you’re crying for him... but he holds still, despite the way you start to grind against him, your little whimpers getting lost against the sheets.

You were never the patient one, but he was. And he had the whole afternoon.

+

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Unintended Target

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader

Request: Hellus can I have a Bucky Barnes angst where you're dating and like you get hurt really bad on a mission because you tried protecting him and he just cannot stop crying while you're being treated. Steve like literally has to hold him through it. Ending in fluff. Sorry for so many details ahahaha! -Anon

Word Count:

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood, a bit of angst

Author’s Note: We've reached the ending of the first week of May Madness! And welcome to my first one shot for the MCU! But you know me. I do hope you guys enjoy

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Y/N never believed that she’d ever be able to run as fast as she had. Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced against time to get across the property in time. The sound of her boots hitting the ground had been lost to the sounds of gunfire that surrounded her.

She and the rest of the Avengers were dealing with the remnants of a hydra base. What was supposed to be a quick in and out mission seemed to take a turn. There was more manpower than they expected and it was taking longer just to clear the property.

At some point during the fight, she’d lost her earpiece making it difficult to keep in contact with the others. The others knew she could handle herself, even though they were currently trying to find her among the mess that was being created. She had been expecting to meet at the rendezvous spot with a smirk on her face with all the files she needed in her hand.

At least that had been the plan. But after her eyes had scanned one of the files, she dropped the file and began running out of the building. Hydra had a new plan alright. And it was that plan alone that had caused fear to course through her, wanting-more like needing-to be on the opposite side of the property.

“Anyone have eyes on Y/N yet?” Bucky called out as he took down another member of Hydra.

Bucky hated that Y/N currently couldn’t be reached. While he had trained with her plenty of times and knew that she was able to take care of herself, he didn’t know where she was at. He didn’t know if she was injured or having any issues. His girlfriend could easily wipe the floor with him, but as close as they were, he was worried.

She’s not in the west wing anymore. Bucky heard Natasha’s voice over the comms. She left a nice trail in the process for us though.

Natasha was trying to make light of the situation. If she could get Bucky to bring down his worry in the slightest, she was going to attempt it. Together the two were practically unstoppable, separate them and make it so they can’t speak to each other and they’ve got an anxious super-soldier.

I’ve got eyes on her. Clint’s voice came over next. And unless there’s something I’m missing, Y/N is either running from something invisible or she’s trying to get somewhere.

Anything from the west wing she could have seen? Tony’s voice filled their ears.

Still looking. Nat responded.

“Where is she headed?” Bucky asked a moment later, the swift movement of his knife piercing the body of another person advancing on him. With him down, Bucky had cleared his section. His concern now focused on why Y/N had been running away or towards something.

I’ve lost sight of her. She was headed towards the east. More than likely heading your way.

The plans had been replaying in Y/N’s head from the moment she read them in the west wing. The words on the pages she had found made her heart race in a way that all the training she had been through never made it race. The fear had threatened to bring tears to her eyes. All she knew was that she had to get to Bucky.

She hadn’t stopped for a moment since she had begun running. Even when she was faced with those that tried to stop her, she simply pulled out her dagger, allowing it to make contact for a brief moment before she continued. The bodies she left behind weren’t on her mind for more than a second.

As she made it towards the end of the property, her eyes landed on Bucky. From the looks of things, he had finished clearing things out and was beginning to look for her. She knew he had to be seeing as she no longer had her earpiece. It was something he’d always do no matter what the mission was that they were on.

Y/N believed she had made it there on time. That if he was alone he’d be okay. If there were no signs of Hydra, Bucky would be safe. That getting him out of the area would ensure his safety. It was as she began slowing down did Bucky notice her.

He took off on a light jog to meet her halfway from that point. “What happened?” He asked, seeing the look on her face.

“We need to get out of here, now.” she said in between the breaths of air she was trying to get.

You should listen to her. Nat’s voice picked up in Bucky’s ear. This whole thing was a damn setup.

The moment the words registered in his ear, they both noticed the way a red dot appeared on Bucky’s chest. His first instinct would have been to grab the both of them and find cover. Before he could do anything, Y/N’s instinct kicked in and she pushed Bucky out of the way, just as the shot had been fired.

Both of them had fallen onto the ground but it was Y/N that cried out in pain. Her hands automatically tried to grab at her back to take in the injury she had gotten. To apply some kind of pressure to it or at the very least to see where it was.

Just as Bucky moved to look her over a jolt of electricity shot through her body. One that caused a loud piercing scream to pass her lips before she went silent. Bucky could only watch as her body convulsed from the electrical charge running through her body. The last thing Y/N heard and saw was Bucky reaching for her the moment the shocking stopped his voice calling out to her before she passed out.

The minutes after had gone in a blur to Bucky. The others all speaking at once trying to figure out their location. They all had heard her screams. May it have been through the comms or even the fact that they were close by and could hear it. The words mixed in with the emotions that were currently playing through him.

From the moment she passed out, Bucky had her in his arms. He hardly even remembered yelling at the others to shut up and just get to them. They needed to leave before Y/N bled out or even died there in his arms. He didn’t even want to begin to think about her dying there. Not when that shot wasn’t even meant for her.

He could barely remember how long it had taken him to get to the quinjet, let alone the ride back to the compound. The whole ride back, he never left her side. Even when Bruce helped to stop the bleeding for the trip back, he never once took his eyes off of her. Even after getting her to the Med Bay, he fought to be with her. But he couldn’t be.

There was a storm of emotions brewing within him as he watched from behind a glass window as the team Stark hired had begun working on pulling the bullet out of Y/N’s back. The wound was simple, but because of the electric charge that came from it, her skin looked fried around the wound.

Y/N wasn’t even supposed to be in there. She wasn’t supposed to be wounded and it was because of who he was made to be. That the very organization that he had once freed himself from was desperately trying to get him back. And in the process, the woman he loved was injured.

“She’ll get through this.” Steve said as he came to stand beside Bucky. Steve knew that Y/N had been shot at, broken, and bloodied with several of the missions that she had been through. The woman always seemed to pull through.

“That charge that went through her body, was meant for me.” Bucky said never taking his eyes off of Y/N. “My body would have taken that charge and it would have caused little damage. She’s not like us.”

“She may not be like us, but I’ve seen her take on world threats and she’s come out of them right by your side.” Steve needed Bucky to have some kind of hope.

Bucky’s forehead placed against the glass as he shook his head. “I can’t lose her Steve.”

Steve watched as tears slowly formed in Bucky’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or anger that had caused the tears. He brought his hand up and placed it on Bucky’s shoulder. It seemed that the simple action had caused Bucky to let the storm inside of him be released.

He placed his arm around Bucky, allowing his friend to lean on him while he broke down. Steve listened as Bucky mentioned time and time again about it should have been him. That he should have been the one on the table. But if it hadn’t been for Y/N, Bucky would have been taken away.

Steve stayed with Bucky for the time it took to get Y/N closed up and have tests done to make sure the surge of power that went through her hadn’t damaged any of her organs. The testing is what took the longest. The needing to ensure that Y/N would wake up was something that held the heaviest weight.

Y/N’s eyes slowly opened and she found herself in a bed in the Med Bay. A confused look played on her face for a moment before her brain registered the pain her body felt in that moment. She winced as she began to look around before a small smile pulled at her lips.

Bucky had been by her side, his head resting on the space beside her. She could tell he had been sleeping. She could see it in the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as she watched him. Bringing a shaky hand up, she ran it through his hair. The action itself was comforting to herself and if she was being honest, she was sure that it would bring some comfort to him as well.

Her touch had caused Bucky to lift his head quickly. “You’re awake.”

The slight nod of her head had caused her to wince. “How long was I out?” Her voice was rough as she spoke.

“Almost a week.” She could hear the relief in his voice at seeing her awake. He sat up and moved his chair closer before he reached for her hand. “Have I ever mentioned how crazy you are?”

That caused a slight smile to grow on her face, her fingers tightening around his own. “We both know I’m crazy enough to take bullets for the people I love.”

“Doesn’t mean you should.” He said with a slight nod of his head.

“I couldn’t let them take you. Not after everything we’ve done to make sure you got better.” She wasn’t going to let him ‘win’ this argument. “The moment I saw their plans, I didn’t care about anything else. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Bucky sighed as stood up and moved to sit on the bed next to her. His hand came up and ran along her cheek, before bringing his lips to hers for a brief kiss. “I was afraid that you weren’t going to wake up. They kept saying that you were okay, that it would be when you were ready that you would wake up. All I could think about was how there was a whole day where I thought I was going to lose you. And I hated that feeling.”

“If you’re trying to say I shouldn’t go on-” She tried saying before he cut her off.

“No, I would never say that. Not when you know how to take care of yourself. I was just thinking it would be a lot easier and probably safer for the both of us if we stick together as a team.” His words had caused her eyebrow to raise.

“You mean babysit me.” It caused them both to chuckle.

“Is it really babysitting if we enjoy working together?” He asked with a smile pulling at his lips.

She shook her head slightly. “Fine. But even I know it might be a while before I’m out in the field again.”

“About that,” He said as leaned into her a little more. “During your time away from the field, I was thinking about a vacation for the both of us. Lay low while the others cut all the loose ends to ensure there’s no one coming after us.”

“A recovery vacation, while laying low? I’m definitely listening.”

The two of them knew things would never be perfect out there. Not in their line of business. Not with their pasts or even who they’ve become. There would be times where they’d be placed in this same position. They'd be willing to keep the other one safe, no matter the cost.

All WorksTag (The tag to be notified for everything I write):

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@amariaamaris

Excelsior Tag(All MCU fics):

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[quietmyfearswith]

the mission ; syverson x stucky x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —   4,350 words

warnings — SMUT, double penetration, triple penetration??? oral sex (giving and receiving), foursome, unprotected sex(dont do this), swear words, competition(ish)

pairing — syverson x stucky x fem!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18,, pretty self-indulgent so what about it,, wanted to post this as my first fic for 2021 so we can start the year with a bang but hey the year is still new so hope this counts,, feedback is appreciated

masterlist

“Tell me again, why are we meeting up with this person?” If you told people that there were times that Steve — Captain America as most of them are most familiar with — was egotistical enough to the point that he believed that intel from outsiders weren’t needed, they wouldn’t believe you unless they saw how he was currently. When the military told them that some of their men have discovered remnants of HYDRA, Steve was fine with that vague lead since he thought that they could take it from there. However, his pride took a hit when the military insisted that one of their men be sent over to the compound to assist them.

Y/N then scheduled for Captain Syverson to meet with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes so they could discuss what the special operations captain saw. Sighing irritatedly, the assistant of the Avengers paused in the middle of the hallway so she could look the super soldier in the eye, “Look Captain, I know you think you can do this alone — you’ve proven to me and your fellow Avengers that you can — but the military and government believes that you need more hands on deck, okay?”

Crossing his arms, Steve opened his mouth to argue but opted not to, “Good, now behave okay? Bucky’s almost done training the recruits; so he’ll be joining us shortly.” As she walked away from where they stood, the captain bit his lip as he watched her ass and legs strut away in the green and white plaid dress that she was donning. Hearing her fingers snap together brought him back to reality and made him follow her steps.

“Captain Rogers, meet Captain Syverson from the military’s special operations,” Y/N introduced the two men to each other, who were visibly appalled at the thought of having to shake hands, but a stern look from the girl standing between them prompted the Texan captain to hold out his hand to which the Brooklyn captain shook briefly but with a tight grip before letting go. “We appreciate you coming here, Captain Syverson.”

His response surprised Y/N, but in a good way, and she smiled brightly at the simple interaction the two had. “You can call me Sy; only prefer being called Captain by those who are under me.” The wink he sent the only girl present in the room gave her the implication that there was a double entendre in his statement; whereas the enhanced super soldier caught on and was displeased with how he was hitting on Y/N.

Puffing out his chest and rested his hands on his belt buckle, “Well Sy, why don’t you share with us what it is you saw.” Nodding, Sy grabbed the folder he brought with him and handed it over to the Captain; Y/N was setting up the laptop and projector that was in the conference room. Steve skimmed through the files as Y/N displayed some of the satellite images that were taken. “Have you or any of your team members been inside the facility?”

Shaking his head no Sy explained, “We didn’t dare to. Though I had some soldiers stake out and in their week of monitoring they didn’t notice anyone come in or out.” Placing the folder on the desk, Steve instructed Y/N to show more of the pictures and she complied, “How come you didn’t get in and check it out? Isn’t that what a captain does?”

“Steve,” Y/N scolded him as she looked at him with a warning look but despite her piercing gaze he remained unfazed as he gave a challenging stare to the other captain — one which Sy wasn’t afraid of. “A captain’s duty is to lead his soldiers and make the right calls; it wasn’t our mission to look for the abandoned facility but we found it anyway. We just ensured that there wouldn’t be any criminals that we could possibly encounter that would interfere with our mission.” 

The tension was thick in the air when Steve gulped down — not wanting to admit that Sy made a valid point. Striving to cut the tension in the room, Y/N stood up as she spoke, “Okay, great points. Should you plan to check the place out,” She was talking to Steve who was intently looking at her with a look he’s never given her before; she struggled to continue with her point with how intense his stare was, “Secretary Ross decided that it might be better for you to tag along,” Sy nodded as he was being talked to.

“Just me? Or would my men be included?” Sitting back down on her chair she browsed through some of the files she had prepared for their meeting as the two men watched her like a hawk, “They want you out on the field along with Steve and Bucky; but your other men can help behind the scenes.”

Displeased with the new information, Steve crossed his arms from where he was seated, “No, he is not joining us on the field,” He was now standing up, as if he was trying to assert his dominance and authority over the other captain who seemed undaunted as he stood tall. “Why the hell not?” 

“Jesus Christ, stop it, the two of you!” Y/N held out her hands to create space between the two charging bodies, her hands landed on their pecs and she had to stop herself from enjoying the feel of their skin against her fingertips, “You both need to calm your asses down! I don't know what it is about each other that ticked you off but you guys are gonna have to work together. Now, why don’t we calm down and try to get along?”

Running a hand through his buzz cut hair, Sy was the first one to speak since he wanted to charm Y/N, “I’m really sorry about my behavior, love,” His larger hand reached for hers and placed a kiss on the back of her palm; Steve sharply looked at how affectionately the other captain gazed at the assistant who had been responsible for his orgams without her even knowing it, “I’m gonna be on my best from now on; especially when I work with the former soldiers.”

Having enough of what he said Steve made his way to the two of them, breaking off their clasped hands so he could hold Y/N’s, planting himself between the two he gruffly said, “You know what bothers me? Is the way you’re hitting on Y/N.” Sy could not hold back the smirk as he somewhat felt a sick pride rush over him seeing the infamous hero getting riled up because of him, “Don’t recall you being her boyfriend; so really I can flirt with her as much as I want.”

She doesn’t know why, but Y/N was extremely aroused with the way they discussed her as if she weren’t there. Ultimately it was the way they both battled for her really made her panties dampen. “Who would you rather fuck?” The blunt question had her jaw dropping in shock and disbelief; she always knew how Steve was direct to the point, but never expected him to be straightforward in a sexual context.

“I don’t know,” Her eyes darted back and forth from the two captains, “You’re both very attractive; but I never imagined both of you being attracted to me.” It was difficult for her to hide the faint traces of her insecurities which the two men were quick to pick up. Steve caressed her hand that he held as he sincerely cooed at her, “How can I not want you? And I’m not just talking about your divine body. Your patience in handling us is unlike any other. You’re extremely compassionate and kind. When I look at you I see a woman whose beauty on the outside matches the beauty within.”

The other hand that Sy held was being placed with a kiss that despite being gentle was contradicted with the rough sensations of his beard, “I’ve only known you for a while but I have to second the motion; you are a force to be reckoned with. While there are parts of you that clearly cannot be tamed and that your fire was meant to remained ablaze,” He hoped that she got his reference of her dangerous line of work and with the small nod she gave him affirmed so, “But you also have the tranquility that a mother possesses.” 

A small smile broke out of Y/N’s face after their speeches; but the serene moment quickly faded when the super soldier brought her hand to his crotch, letting the wide-eyed girl feel the hard on that he frequently spotted around her. “This is just one of the other pieces of evidence I have about how great you are.” Walking up to stand beside Steve, Sy grabbed her other hand and pressed against his own staring erection as he smugly boasted, “But this is a bigger evidence of how much I appreciate you, sunshine.” 

“I’m flattered,” Y/N nervously began as her eyes darted back and forth from the two large men, pulling away her hands from their hardened cock as she felt incredibly shy about the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t an answer that pleased either of them or answered Steve’s earlier question. “But the question is still left unanswered Y/N,” The blonde man to her right reminded her, “Who would you rather fuck?”

Gulping down her nervousness before answering, “Honestly? I want you both.” Even though she shyly confessed that, it was all the fuel both captains needed for their ego as they silently just had established a competition between themselves — get her to feel confident about herself as they both intend on making her so cum hard the only thing she’ll remember is their name. Steve brought a finger underneath her chin, lifting her gaze up to match his hooded eyes, “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He affirmed to her before bringing their lips to touch gently. Eyes closing as the super soldier savored the feeling of her lips that he's been dreaming for so long; and his dreams couldn’t even compare to the feel and taste of her lips. 

As their lips pulled away from the steamy kiss, Sy tore away her lips and planted his own lips against hers, “Absolutely stunning, one of a kind,” Were the words he spoke as their lips locked and tongues danced. Feeling his beard tickle her neck as his lips trailed down her jaw and neck, she giggled lightly and opened her eyes to view Steve whose eyes darkened — though she didn’t know that it was due to his lust and longing for her, as well as the jealousy due to the scene unfolding in front of him. Pulling away from the kiss, Sy then lifted her up to the table and sat her down. Without even speaking, he made his move to undress her — grabbing the cloth by her cleavage, ripping the dress in two to expose how she chose to forego a bra and was only wearing a poor excuse of panties; the Texas raised captain could only smirk as he went down on his knees while he slid her lace undergarment down her legs. 

“What a devious little thing you are,” Her attention was shifted to the Brooklyn-raised captain as he spoke; she instinctively spread her legs which didn’t go unnoticed by Sy who smirked in appreciation before lunging forward to lick her through her panties — causing her to gasp out loud, rolling her eyes at the pleasure.  Annoyed with how he was being undermined, Steve grabbed for Y/N’s cheeks and kissed her fervently, making him moan in bliss as the kiss exceeded his dreams and expectations. “This what you want? Want two men proving to you how goddamn beautiful you are?”

The question was rhetorical, but somehow she found herself whining as she nodded against his lips where their lips met for a heated kiss. Grinning at her state, Steve ended their kiss as his lips trailed down her chin and to her neck, searching for her sweet spot. Just as he sucked on the skin below her jaw, she tried to squeeze her legs together to alleviate the arousal she was feeling — but it only made Sy smirk and encourage him to push aside her panty and directly get a taste of her.

“I’m gonna taste this pretty pussy okay? Why don’t you show Steve over here what that pretty mouth can do besides ending tension okay?” With a shaky sigh, she nodded as her eyes watched as Steve got on the table, kneeling beside her, all while he undid his belt and pulled the zipper down to free his cock. “I’ve been fantasizing about what that mouth would feel like ever since you joined,” His filthy confession made her bring her thighs together again to relieve her of the ache she felt; but all it did was make her feel again the trimmed hair of Sy who was placing gentle kitten licks on her pussy, “And now I’ll find out if you’re as any good like I thought you would be,” Served as his final warning before kneeling on the table by her head and feeding his cock to her waiting mouth.

Groans were heard from the two captains but for similarly different reasons; Steve loved how his cock slid down her throat easily without gagging, and her hollowed cheeks and expert tongue providing him pleasure but it was also the way her one hand was sliding from his balls to the base of his cock that almost made him cum. Whereas Sy couldn’t get enough of how sweet her juices were; he was sliding two fingers in and out of her, and everytime he pushed them right back it became harder for him to do so with how her walls were resisting them — it made him think about how her walls would resist his cock. “You like this don’t you? Like being used for our pleasure?”

A pathetic whine was all that she could let out seeing as her mouth was preoccupied with Steve’s cock was prohibiting her from speaking clearly. “You’re too invested that you can’t even remove my cock from your mouth to answer properly,” Feeling her nod against his cock just added to the bliss he felt. Shaking his head as he licked her cunt and fingered her pussy, Sy loved it when her thighs were rubbing hard against his beard and some of her juices were sticking to his facial hair.

Y/N was surprised when Steve pulled his cock of her mouth, “Not yet baby, I’m not cumming in your mouth just yet.” With his lips still pressed tightly against her pussy lips, Sy smirked at him, “Or maybe you just can’t cum at all.” That statement reminded both men that even though they intended to make her feel how beautiful she was, they were still competing for her. Sitting up with the support of her elbows, Y/N watched closely as Steve grabbed Sy by the shirt, dragging him away from her pussy, resulting in him sitting up on the floor on his bum. He planted himself on one of the conference chairs and once settled, grabbed Y/N’s hips so she was straddling hovering his cock, “It’s because I’d rather cum inside her pussy.”

With one hand on her hip, the other one guided his cock in her tight canal easily. “Oh fuck, you’re so big,” She moaned as she rested her hands on his shoulders as she rode him slowly, getting used to his size. Calloused hands were on her ass as Steve guided the pace in which they were fucking. His lips were pressing firmly against her breasts, leaving his traes of desire on them. As her eyes were closed in pleasure, she didn’t see how Sy was freeing himself from the restrains of his pants; after doing so he stood up from the floor and sat down on the conference table. 

“You’re gonna suck my cock while you ride his dick; so turn around,” It took a while before she did so, but Y/N had to push Steve’s face gently from where his mouth had been enveloping her nipple. She turned around to face Sy who was stroking his cock with hunger on his eyes; moving her hair from her face, she rested her hands on the knees of the man in front of her before lowering her lips to wrap it around the tip of his cock. “That’s a good girl,” He sighed out in pleasure, one hand finding purchase on her hair.

Jealous at the thought of having to share her or her attention, Steve kicked off the chair he was sitting on and stood on his feet and helped Y/N to do the same. With her bent over, the super soldier grabbed for her hips and rammed in and out of her pussy with short and rapid thrusts. Sy allowed her to take control of how she wanted to suck him, but he couldn’t help himself as he thrusted his cock in her mouth a few times, relishing in the moans she let out when he did so. “See what you do to us?” Steve asked as he felt his tip graze her sensitive spot, feeling her thighs shiver leaving him to hold both thighs in his hands.

“You make us feral,” Sy continued his train of thought as his hand added pressure on the nape of your neck, making you take him deeper, “You’re so goddamn beautiful that you make us lose all logic.” It was amazing to him how her tiny throat could accommodate all of him, and the way her nails dug into his thighs only added to his pleasure.

Bucky had just finished his training session with the recruits and was dying to get to his room to shower off the filth and sweat. Before getting to do that he first had to meet with a captain that was said to have intel about HYDRA; so imagine his surprise when he enters the conference room and sees three people fucking and not discussing mission details.

A man with a buzz cut — he inferred that was Sy — was sitting on the desk with his head thrown back in bliss as he was being given a blowjob by Y/N — the Avengers’ secretary whom he had been fantasizing about — while she in turn was being fucked in the pussy by Steve. “Well if I knew the meeting would look like this I would’ve ended the training session.” 

Steve just smirked at his best friend who was leaning against the wall, “This is Sy,” He nodded to the man sitting at the desk who waved with his free hand from Y/N’s hair. Approaching the three of them Bucky inquired, “She any good at sucking cock?” 

“The best; gag reflex is practically non-existent,” Steve recalled as he was now rubbing her clit, loving the way she was squirming against his body. Her hands were settled on Sy’s thighs, anchoring herself and leaving nail marks on his skin. “Her throat is tight but I doubt it’s tighter than her pussy.”

Bucky grabbed her hair to stop her from sucking on Sy’s cock, “Never pegged you to be a willing cumdump; you just needed a lot of cocks to fulfill you huh?” Despite her face having a mixture of saliva and the precum of both captains, she bashfully smiled at the sergeant. Stroking her cheek gently, the Texan captain demanded a verbal answer, “If he asks you a question you are expected to answer, beautiful.” Feeling the force of Steve’s harsh thrust, she managed to let out a choked out response, “Yes! I need a lot of cocks to satisfy me.”

Halting his assault on her pussy, Steve slid his cock out of her, “I’m gonna fuck her ass, Sy you get her pussy, Buck you start with her mouth first.” When Sy pulled her off his cock, Y/N was able to gulp nervously at the thought of taking all them at once; however she wasn’t given enough time to react to it as Sy was dragging her to ride him as he sat at a chair. Carefully, he helped her descent on his cock as the man groaned against her neck when he felt how her warm and wet she was, “Did the captain really fuck you, beautiful? You’re still so fucking tight.”

“I did, and I fucked her good,” Steve asserted as he lined his cock up behind her other hole, “That’s just another reason why you’re beautiful, doll. You’re just so fucking tight no matter how fucked you are,” And to emphasize his point, he slide his tip inside her ass and stilled upon feeling her walls constricting around him. “Goddamn, doll,” Steve breathed out as he shoved more of his cock inside her, his whole cock now shoved deep in her ass.

Her mouth hung agape as she felt two cocks having a go in her — loving the way she was never fully empty since when one thrust out, another slammed right back in. Taking advantage of her opened mouth, Bucky stood by the side of the chair and presented his cock to her, “Take it all in princess.” Like an obedient girl, she did wrap her lips around the ridge of his cock and began sucking on it as best she could.

“See what you do, doll? You make us go ravenous for you,” Steve emphasized his point as he mercilessly thrusts in and out of her ass despite her walls clinging to him, begging him to ease down. Agreeing with the captain, Sy sucked on her nipple harder as he thrusted sharply on her pussy, “Make us want to shower you with cum to prove how divine you are.”

Stroking her face gently contradicted how ruthless Bucky treated her mouth as his balls were slapping her chin repeatedly — allowing some of her drool and his precum to fall graceless from her mouth — before adding, “Only a pretty girl like you can make three soldiers fall apart.”

And fall apart was exactly what was bound to happen as Steve planted his hands on her hips so he could gain enough leverage to fuck her ass relentlessly, until his balls slammed against the rim of her opening, until he felt himself come undone with one final thrust all the way inside her. “Fucking hell,” He panted out against her back as he felt himself unload almost a year of desire inside her.

With much reluctance, Steve pulled out of her ass and rested against the conference table to catch his breath and recover. This then allowed Sy to knead his hands into the skin of her ass so he could move her up and down his cock, chasing his own impending orgasm. “Cum with me, beautiful,” He harshly demanded against her skin as moved her in time with his thrusts, “Let me feel you fall apart and come on my cock.” And to prove how badly he wanted — no, needed — to feel her hug his cock even tighter as she spasmed in pleasure — her to cum, he slid in and out of her at a rapid pace until she was clawing at his chest and he felt her body tense up then relax as she coated his cock with cum. 

Moaning out at the relief of her release, Bucky enjoyed the added vibrations on his cock — adding to the pleasure as her tongue licked and swirled around the underside of his cock — while watching her ride out her orgasm. It wasn’t long before Sy too stilled his movements so he could release his seed in her. “Fuck so good!” He yelled out as he stayed inside her, relishing the feel of their combined juices. Seeing how her mouth went slack and her lips weren’t sucking on his cock anymore, the sergeant pulled out and stroked his cock as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her nipple. Shivering at the sensation, she stared at him with doe eyes as her dainty hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his balls, “Cum for me, Bucky.” It was the way she sultrily whispered it that made him throw his head back and moan as he covered her gorgeous tits with his cum.

Loving the way her breasts were marked with his cum, she tried to milk more out of the super soldier by rubbing the tip of his cock with her thumb as the other hand fondled his balls gently. “You’re one special girl,” Steve spoke as he watched intently the scene in front of him. Smiling at the praise, Y/N stopped stroking Bucky’s cock when she milked him already. After leaning down to press a chaste, sweet kiss on Sy’s lips, she removed his cock  from where it was deeply planted on her — with a moan falling from her lips — before standing up and heading to where Steve was in order to do the same.

“Thank you for proving how beautiful I am,” She sweetly thanked them once she pulled away from the kiss. “Now hold on,” Bucky spoke as he made his way to stand beside Y/N, “I think you’re gonna need more proof of how beautiful you are.”

Catching his drift, Sy sat up straighter in the chair before agreeing, “Exactly, and we might need to give you individually are our own reasons.” She held her breath once more as she felt Steve pepper kisses on her shoulder, “Think you can handle us individually, doll?”

Desperately, she nodded as she enjoyed the feel of his lips kissing her skin. With two fingers grabbing onto her chin, Bucky made her face him, “Good, ‘cause I haven’t been inside that lovely pussy and ass of yours. Oh, and I got a long list of what makes you fucking beautiful.”

[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Emily is the glue that holds the family together, aka five times the Hotchner family needed Emily.

A story in the “5 times + 1″ format.  

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe.

Chapter 1 - Amelia. 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

March 2010

Aaron wakes to his bed being empty. He rubs his eyes, trying to remove the last remnants of sleep, and he turns to check the alarm clock, groaning when he sees it’s 3am. He touches the other side of the bed and feels that the sheets are cold, indicating that his wife had been gone for some time. Amelia had been off the evening before, their usually happy baby grouchy and sleepy. Which was always the first sign that she was coming down with something. Theo had been ill the week before, a bug he’d picked up from school, and Aaron had naively hoped they’d managed to avoid it being passed on to the youngest Hotchner.

He sits on the side of the bed and spots light filtering out from under the ensuite door. He walks over, opening the door to find his wife laying back in the bath, Amelia dozing on her chest. Emily looks tired, a small smile on her face when she spots him. “Hey.” She rasps out, staying quiet so she doesn't wake their daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Aaron walks in and kneels on the floor next to the bath. “Everything ok?”

“She woke up about an hour ago, she had a fever. I thought a lukewarm bath might bring it down, but she started to cry every time I tried to put her in here herself.” Emily says gently, placing a hand on Amelia’s forehead. “It’s come down a bit.”

“You should have woken me up.” He says, placing a hand on their daughter's back. “I’d have helped.”

“It’s ok, honey.” She says placing her hand over his. “You need your sleep, work has been rough on you lately.”

“Right.” He says, with a raised eyebrow. “Because your job is a piece of cake.” Aaron links their fingers and runs a thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to do it all on your own anymore, Em. I’m here now. We’re all here.”

She purses her lips together and nods at him. It was still her instinct sometimes to try and do it all by herself, especially anything to do with the kids. Memories of those months spent alone waiting for Foyet to be stopped were sharp, and sometimes it still took her breath away. How close they had come to losing everything.

“Can you take her?” She asks softly. “She should be fine for now.”

“Of course.” He lifts the toddler off of his wife's chest and wraps her in a towel. Amelia wakes almost immediately, grumbling at being removed from her mother. “Let’s go get you dressed sweetie.”

He takes Amelia to the nursery and puts a fresh diaper on her, and a thin sleepsuit. He frowns at the warmth still on her skin, and soothes her when she starts to cry again. “I know what you want, you want Mommy.” He lifts Amelia into his arms and kisses her forehead. “I don’t blame you, I always want her when I feel sick too.”

Emily is already in bed dressed in one of his shirts when he walks back into their bedroom. Amelia immediately reaches out for Emily, the little girl's face already scrunched up as she cries. He passes Amelia over, lets his wife take him into her arms. “Mama.”

“You’re ok, sweet girl.” Emily says, running a hand over the back of her daughter’s head. She kisses her forehead and frowns. “It’s gone down, but she’s still warm.”

“We’ll call the doctor if she’s still got a temperature in the morning.” He says. Emily nods, settling Amelia so she is resting against her chest. The little girl's favorite place to sleep when she was sick or sad. “Sweetheart, you aren’t going to get any sleep if she’s in here.”

“I know.” She replies, soothing the small coughs coming out of Amelia by rubbing her back. “I’ll get someone to drop some case files and paperwork here tomorrow, work from here until she’s better.”

“And if you get a case?”

She glares at him. “Then I’m sure the team can handle it without me. It’s not like they haven’t before.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’m not leaving her if she’s sick, Aaron.” She says, her voice firm. “She only settles for me if she’s sick and I’m not putting either of you through that.”

He knew his wife somehow felt responsible for his delicate relationship with his daughter. Things were better now, so much better, but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt when Ameila, or any of their kids, immediately reached for Emily when something was wrong. The six months they had spent alone together had formed a bond he loved, but that he was also, in his worst moments, jealous of.

He wants to argue, wants to say that eventually something would happen with one of the kids when she wasn’t there, but he knows this isn’t the time. That it can wait until it isn’t almost 4am and she has their feverish daughter pressed against her.

“It’s a good thing your boss is so understanding.”

Emily smiles at him. “Well, I do repay his understanding with blow jobs so I think it’s earned.” _________________

May 2024

Ameila was Emily through and through. It was something Aaron, and just about everyone they knew, said frequently. She looked like Emily. She had her nose, her dark eyes and hair, and the same smile that had always been able to convince Aaron to do just about anything. Amelia had inherited her fathers jawline and his seriousness, her frown, a pure ‘Hotch’ look that Penelope had often joked would serve her well in whatever she decided to do in the future.

She also had Emily’s attitude. A need to know everything, to push all the boundaries around her, that often drove Aaron to the edge of his sanity in a way neither of his sons ever had. Elizabeth often commented on how similar Amelia and Emily were, and he never missed the way she smirked at him when she said it.

Emily was fiercely protective of Amelia. Aaron knew it was because their daughter was the only one of their kids who didn’t remember the incident with Foyet. She was so small when it happened, only a few months old when her family was torn apart by the actions of a psychopath, and they were grateful for it. Jack and Theo still bore the scars of what happened, years of therapy had done them wonders, but it still surfaced at times, almost unexpectedly. Leading to Theo calling in the middle of the night, the now 21 year old plagued by nightmares that his mother was dead, only calmed down by the sound of her tired voice over the phone.

The first time Amelia really pushes the boundaries with her parents is when she comes home one day with her nose pierced. The ring in her nose was massive, big enough to allow for the swelling that would follow, drawing her parents attention to it immediately.

“What the hell is that in your nose?” Aaron asks, annoyance clear in his tone.

“It’s a nose ring, Dad.” Amelia answers, her eyes rolling as she hangs her keys up. “I got it done after school.”

“And who said you could do that?”

“It’s my nose. I didn’t realise I needed permission.”

“Ok.” Emily interrupts, placing a hand on her husband's arm to try and diffuse the situation. “I think what your dad is trying to say is that you should run this stuff past us, ok?”

Amelia scoffs. “Well it’s your nose I inherited, surely you understand why I wanted to do something to it.” She walks past her parents and goes up the stairs before the conversation can go any further. “I have homework.”

_________________

Aaron walks into their en-suite later that night to find Emily standing in front of the mirror scrutinising her appearance. He leant against the doorframe and watched as she turned her head side to side, running her finger down the slope of her nose. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at herself straight on again, her finger pressed into the tip.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him, taking her hand away from her nose as she does. He doesn’t miss the shy look on her face as she wrung her hands together. “Do you think my nose is weird?”

He frowns at her. “What? No.”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I’m 53 for fuck sake.” She mutters to herself.

He kisses the tip of her nose and she smiles at him. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.” She wraps her arms around him anyway, pulling him in for a kiss. “It will look better when she can switch to a smaller ring.”

“It will look better when she just takes it out.”

Emily laughs, shaking her head at him. “Come on, let's go to bed. Some of us have work in the morning.”

He raises an eyebrow at her as he always did when she referred to his early retirement, even though it had been years since he left the FBI. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

_________________

The casual mention of a boyfriend, a boy from Amelia’s art class called Chase, almost sends Aaron orbital. He manages to keep his opinions to himself until Amelia has gone to bed and he’s just in the kitchen with his wife, helping her with the dishes even though it was long ago established as her chore since she never cooked.

“She’s not that bad, Aaron.”

He scoffs at his wife. “She’s going to make me go grey.”

“Honey. Amelia is a teenage girl. A pretty well behaved one in comparison to what I was like.”

“Suddenly I feel a lot more sympathy for Elizabeth than I ever have before.” He mutters as he continues to put dishes away.

“What was that?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

She narrows her eyes at him as she passes him another plate, patting his cheek with her spare hand. “You’re already grey, Aaron. It’s got nothing to do with the fact our daughter has a boyfriend. Or a nose ring.” _________________

Emily finally loses her cool two weeks later. They are eating dinner, just her, Amelia and Aaron, when she spots something on her daughter's wrist as she reaches for more salad. Emily grabs Amelia’s arm and pulls her sleeve back slightly to reveal a, admittedly very small, heart tattoo onto her daughter’s wrist. It was crude, slightly wonky and clearly not a professional one.

“What the hell is this?” She asks, staring her daughter down.

Amelia tears her arm out of her mother’s grasp and pulls her sleeve back down. “It’s a tattoo, Mom.”

“A tattoo? When did that happen?” Emily looks over at Aaron, who to her annoyance looked slightly amused that she was finally reacting like he had been all along.

“We did them at school.” Amelia answers, taking another bite of her dinner.

Emily’s initial reaction of telling her daughter how dangerous that was, how stupid, was drowned out by her overriding fear of who exactly had done this. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Chase and I did them. We have matching ones.” Amelia says, looking at her mother with a challenge on her face. “I don’t see what the big deal is Mom, you have tattoos.”

Emily glares at her husband when he chokes out a laugh at that, and he quickly excuses himself from the table. She turns back to her daughter. “Amelia, it really wasn’t very safe to do that. You have to let professionals do this kind of thing.”

Amelia rolls her eyes as she takes the final bite of her dinner. “Whatever.” She gets up from the table, already half out of the dining room before she speaks again. “I need to go FaceTime Chase.”

Emily puts her head in her hands as soon as she is alone. Her daughter was too much like her for her own good, independent and wilful almost to a fault. Emily loved that Amelia was like that, that she was so sure of herself in a way that Emily certainly hadn’t been at her age. She took it as a testament to her and Aaron’s parenting, but right now she was struggling with it. She just wanted to sit Amelia down and tell her that not everyone in the world had her best intentions at heart, and Emily had an increasingly sinking feeling that Chase was one of those people.

She blows out a breath and stands up, starting to collect the dishes from the evening meal. Emily hears her husband re-enter the room. “I’m going to get her some antiseptic cream to put on it. Who the hell knows where they got the needle they did it with from.”

“Emily-”

“She gave herself a matching tattoo with her boyfriend, Aaron.” She says, putting the dishes she had been holding back down on the dining room table. “They’ve been together for 8 weeks.”

He steps towards her and places his hands on her hips. “What was it you told me last week? That it will work itself out eventually.”

“She thinks she loves him, honey.” Emily lamented, allowing her husband to pull her into his arms. “And I know he’s going to break her heart.”

Aaron kisses her. “Sweetheart, we can’t protect her from that.” He kisses her again, cupping her cheek with his hand. “All we can do is be here for her if it happens.”

Emily rests her forehead on his chest. “Now who's being annoying ok about all of this?”

_________________

“This is where I found out I was pregnant with you.” Emily says offhandedly, a wistful smile on her face. It was so long ago now, but she still remembered the joy she had felt when she first saw Amelia on screen. The baby she had always been told she couldn’t have was now this amazing person she couldn’t imagine her life without.

Emily looks at her daughter when she doesn’t get a response, and she stops herself from laughing when she sees how pointedly Amelia is ignoring her. “Oh really, Mom?” She says to herself. “That’s so interesting.”

“Mom, I cannot believe you are doing this.” Amelia seethes, looking at the floor of the clinic they were in. Embarrassment coming off of her in waves. “This is so embarrassing.”

Emily rolls her eyes, and bites back a comment about how if she found birth control embarrassing then she should think twice about having sex. “I just want you to be safe, ok? You’ve got a boyfriend now and whilst I am not exactly delighted at the idea of you having sex.” She says, not missing how her daughter grimaces. “I don’t want you to take any chances.”

“Amelia Hotchner?”

Emily and Amelia look up to see Joanne standing at the door to her office looking expectantly at them. Emily smiles at her, Amelia does not, and the latter sighs as she stands up. She takes a few steps towards Joanne, only pausing when she realises her mother isn’t following her.

“Well you may as well come in. This was your idea after all.” Amelia says, annoyance colouring her tone. Emily sees past it, spotting the way her daughter nervously wrings her hands, fingers digging at her cuticles in a way she had picked up from her.

“Of course, sweetie.” She stands and walks up to her daughter, and guides her into Joanne’s office with a gentle hand on her back.

_________________

“You did what??” Aaron asks, seething, as they get ready for bed side by side in their ensuite. He turns to her, a disbelieving look on his face.

“I took her to get birth control.” Emily answers around her toothbrush, spitting into the sink. She rinses it and places it next to his in the holder.

“Why?” He is glaring at her, and she's suddenly more glad than ever that she hadn’t broached this subject with him until after Amelia had a packet of pills sitting in her bathroom cabinet, with very explicit instructions on the importance of taking it correctly from both Emily and Joanne. “Is she sleeping with him?”

“I don’t even know if she is having sex yet. But you know these things happen. I bought the boys condoms when they were teenagers.” She purposely misses out that she had also bought Amelia condoms, thinking that admission might make her husband's head explode. “I wanted to make sure she takes precautions if she takes that step.”

“She’s 15, Emily.”

“Yeah, and so was I.” She closes her eyes and sighs, turning to look at her husband as she crosses her arms across her chest. She looks at him and bites her lip, trying to figure out what she’s been wanting to say. “Aaron, I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to her.”

Emily can see the moment it registers in his head. The way his brow unfurls, his whole body unclenching as the anger seeps out of him, replaced by concern for her. He takes a step towards her. “Sweetheart…”

She shakes her head at herself, wiping a stray tear away that had fallen at the admission. “She deserves better than that.”

He sighs as he drags her into a hug, one she gladly returns, wrapping her arms around his back. “You deserved better than that too.”

Emily buries her face into his neck, breathes in the scent of him that had comforted her for more than half her life. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” _________________

Three days later it becomes a non issue. Amelia is out with friends, and Chase, leaving Aaron and Emily with the house to themselves.

Emily is sitting in her husband's lap on their couch. His hands up her shirt and his tongue in her mouth, when she hears it. A car door slamming on edge of her consciousness, someone running up the steps of their porch. She pulls back from Aaron, the dazed look on his face surely matching the one on her own. “Did you hear that?” She breathes out.

They hear a key in the door and break apart like they’ve burnt each other, both standing as the front door opens.

Amelia bursts in, tears streaming down her face. She drops her bag at the front door, her school things abandoned in the foyer of their home, and as soon as her eyes land on Emily her face crumbles. The steady stream of tears turning into sobs. “Mom.”

“Amelia?” She closes the gap between them, concern for her daughter overriding anything else, any lingering hopes she had of alone time with her husband gone in an instant. Amelia is in her arms in seconds, clawing at her shirt to try and get as close as possible. She buries her face into Emily’s shoulder and weeps. Emily cups the back of her daughter’s head, and runs her other hand up and down her back. “Oh sweetheart, it’s ok.” She soothes. “You’ll be ok.”

Emily exchanges a concerned look with Aaron over the top of their daughter's head and she shakes her head at him slightly when he takes a step towards them, silently asking him to leave it to her. He understands, just like he always had, and leaves them to it despite wanting to know exactly what has upset Amelia this much.

“Mia, honey.” She says gently, hand still tangled in her daughter's dark hair. She tries to pull back slightly, cupping Amelia’s cheek, but she holds on to her tighter, sobs still tearing out of her throat. “Let’s move over to the couch, ok?”

Amelia nods against her but doesn’t separate herself from her mother at all. Emily carefully guides her over to the couch and sits down. Amelia curls into her, wrapping herself around her in a way she hadn’t done in years. Emily wraps her arms around her, and whispers random words of comfort into her daughter's hair.

“Sweetheart.” She says gently, pulling away enough that she can cup Amelia’s face in her hands. She wipes tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, not until you’re ready, but I need to know if you’re hurt.”

Amelia shakes her head. “Not hurt.” She says, her words choked by her tears. She leans back into Emily, pressing her face into her neck.

“Ok, sweet girl.” Emily says the old nickname, one she hadn’t used since Amelia was 9 and turned her nose up at it, slipping out without thinking. She presses a kiss on her daughter's head. “I’m right here.”

It takes almost 30 minutes for Amelia to calm down, for her sobs to dissipate into sniffs and a hoarseness in her throat as she takes in ragged breaths. “He broke up with me.”

Emily frowns, holding her daughter impossibly tighter. “What?”

“Chase broke up with me.” Amelia says, pulling back so she could look at Emily properly. “He said I was boring.”

Emily covers her reaction to that, keeping her surprise away from her face. Boring was not a word she would have ever used to describe Amelia. She tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you really liked him.”

Amelia snuggles back down into her, sniffing as she lays her head on Emily's shoulder. Emily runs her hand through her daughter's hair, soothing her as she finishes calming down. “What do you want to do?” Emily asks. “We could get Dad to go out and get Taco Bell.”

Amelia chokes out a laugh but shakes her head. “I think I just want to go to bed.”

“Whatever you want.” _________________

Aaron is pacing their bedroom when she enters it, softly closing the door behind her. He stops and looks at her, an expectant look on his face.

“He broke up with her.” Emily says. “She is heartbroken.” She hears how her own voice breaks as she tells him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that.” She shakes her head at herself. “The worst thing is when she told me what happened I felt relieved. She’s sitting there absolutely hysterical and I’m relieved?”

Aaron closes the distance between them and hugs her. “You’re a fantastic mom, Em. I won’t let you believe anything other than that.”

She chokes out a laugh, somehow still surprised after all these years that he was able to guess what was really bothering her without her saying it outloud. “You’re a pretty great dad yourself, Mr Hotchner.” Emily lets herself relax in her husband’s embrace for a little longer, she pulls back and looks up at him. “I’m going to go in and sleep with her tonight.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He kisses her quickly before letting her go so she can get ready for bed. He watches as she pulls on pyjama pants and a soft t-shirt that once belonged to him.

Aaron admires his wife as she takes off her makeup from the day and puts her dark hair up, smiling as he catches sight of some grey flecks that she hates as she twists it into a bun. She never believes him when he says it, but he thinks she's more beautiful now than she was when they first met all those years ago. Emily had always been beautiful, from the 22 year old she was when they first met. Teasing smiles and flirty comments as she coaxed him out to a bar with her.

Emily always lamented aging, wondering where the time had gone. More self conscious now than she had been the entire time he had known her. All he saw in lines on her face that she thought made her look old was all the laughter and joy they’d had over the years. She was softer now, her hips wider, evidence that she had given him two of their children that made him find her even more attractive. The grey flecks in her hair, that he knew she’d get dyed again soon, that showed him just how long they had loved each other.

They had been together 31 years and sometimes Aaron felt every moment of it, every single thing that had happened to them since she kissed him at one of her mother’s events. It somehow also had passed in the blink of an eye, decades gone in seconds and he was still somehow lucky enough to have her by his side.

“You’re staring.” She says, pulling him out of his thoughts with an amused look on her face and a teasing tone to her voice.

He pulls her into his arms again, kisses her cheek, then her nose. Making her laugh as she tries to squirm away from him. “You’re beautiful.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.” _________________

Ameila smiles shakily at her mother as she walks into her room. Emily walks over to her bed and climbs in on the spare side, settling down for the night. She lays on her side and looks at Amelia, tucking some hair behind her ear. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

Amelia sniffs, suppressing a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve been better.” She settles into her mother’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. In the darkness of her bedroom, with Emily’s arms wrapped tightly around her, she finally feels like she can admit the truth. “It’s because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

“What do you mean?”

Amelia closes her eyes as she catches the tone in her mother’s voice, the dangerous edge to it that she was so rarely on the receiving end of. She had only ever really overheard it when she was talking to someone about work over the phone, or one the rare occasion her parents had a full blown row, their angry voices soon turning into other noises that Amelia thanked whoever was listening for the invention of noise cancelling headphones.

“That’s why he broke up with me.” Amela says, feeling tears build back up in her eyes. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

She feels her mother’s hold on her tighten, and the sharp intake of breath that she takes beneath her head. Emily kisses the top of her head. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

Amelia drifts off to the feel of her mother stroking her hair, something she hadn’t had happen since she was younger. She was surprised to realise how much she had missed it, regret for how she had started to rebuff her mother’s affection a few years back building in her chest. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” Another kiss to the top of her head. “Now get some sleep.”

She falls asleep, completely unaware of how Emily laid awake for hours, anger for a teenage boy she had only met once burning through her veins until she came up with a plan. _________________

Emily wakes in the morning to the sound of Amelia’s door opening. She opens her eyes to see her husband standing there, a takeout coffee holder in his hand, and an unsure look on his face.

She smiles at him as she sits up in bed and beckons him in. He switches the light on, which immediately wakes Amelia, her groans the first indication that she was up.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Aaron says kissing his wife before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Morning.” She murmurs against his lips, before lifting the coffee she knew was intended for her. Cold brew with enough sweetener in it to rot your teeth.

“You guys suck.” Amelia groans from below the comforter, voice still thick with sleep.

Emily chuckles. “I think you’ll change your mind when you see what your dad has brought you.”

Amelia lifts the comforter from off of her face and shoots up when she sees her favourite frappuccino in her fathers hands. “Dad, you are the best.” She takes a sip and moans, the sugar hitting her tongue. “No wonder Mom has put up with you so long.”

Aaron laughs, glad to see that she seemed her usual self after how devastated she had been the night before. “Are you ok, Mia?”

She smiles at her dad, a shaky thing that was always the first indicator from his wife and daughter that tears were on the horizon. “I will be.” ______________

Emily’s first thought is to set Penelope on Chase. Let her hack into his social media accounts and digitally ruin his life for upsetting her little girl. For trying to pressure her into something she didn’t want to do. She knew Penelope would do it without a second thought. She was the most trusted confidant of all of the younger Hotchner's outside of their parents. Jack had asked for her help planning his over the top proposal to his now wife. Theo had come out to her first, a nervous teenager in her office asking for help on how he could tell his parents. Amelia went to her for advice on everything from boys to elaborate hairstyles, and Penelope gently discouraged her from dying her hair bright purple when she was 13, knowing it would have given Aaron an aneurysm.

Emily was finishing getting ready for work, Amelia already on her way to school, as she started to formulate a text to her friend, a cryptic request to come see her as soon as she got to work, when Aaron snuck up on her in the kitchen.

“You can’t get Penelope to ruin his life.”

Emily jumps, cursing under her breath. “Damn it, Aaron.” She turns to look at him, a sheepish look on her face. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything of the sort.”

“Oh really?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t thinking of having her hack all of his social media accounts and freeze his bank account?”

Emily flushes and puts her phone down on the counter. “I can’t just let him get away with it.”

Aaron smiles at her and pulls her towards him with his hands on her hips. “Baby, this is something we have to let her deal with ok?” He kisses her cheek, his smile deepening as she narrows her eyes at him. “No getting Penelope involved.”

“Fine.”

Plan B it was. _________________

Emily is never happier than when she has all of her family in her house. The boys were coming round for dinner, Jack and his wife Sara and Theo and his new boyfriend Zach, someone he had met at college. Theo texted her that morning, a list of strict instructions of things that absolutely couldn’t happen the first time Zach was meeting the family.

She had just let them in, hugging her son fiercely as he walked in and feeling love bloom in her chest when he hugged her back just as tightly, no embarrassment at giving his mother this affection in front of Zach.

She lets him go and turns to the young man standing next to her son. “You must be Zach, I’m Emily.”

He shakes her hand, a nervous smile on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

Amelia bursts into the house, slamming the front door behind her, and immediately breaks the first rule on Theo’s list. “Мама, какого хрена?”

“Не сейчас, милая. У нас гости. И не ругайся.” Emily replies, tilting her head towards where Theo and Zach were standing.

“Ты должен был подумать об этом, прежде чем угрожать моему бывшему парню!”

Zach leans in to Theo, a confused look on his face. “Are they speaking Russian?”

Theo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so, and looks at his boyfriend. “Yes.” He turns to his mother. “Ne pouvons-nous pas le faire? C'est la première fois que Zach rencontre tout le monde.”

Amelia rolls her eyes and Emily smiles at Theo. “Je suis désolé, chérie. On va bien se comporter.”

“Are you speaking French?” Zach asks, looking even more confused at the complete nonchalonce all of the Hotchner’s were showing at the multiple languages being thrown around as if it was nothing. The slight look of amusement on Aaron’s face as he walked into the room. “How many languages does your mom speak?”

Theo grabs his boyfriend's hand and leads him further into the house, away from the rest of the family. “Six. Seven if you include English.” _________________

Emily eyes Sara curiously when she turns down wine with her dinner, a small look passes between her and Jack when she asks for soda instead. Emily shares a similar look with her own husband, a look on his face saying he had spotted what she had too, and she gladly gets an alternative drink for her daughter-in-law.

Amelia sulks all the way through dinner. Rebuffing her brother’s questions about school, a glare fixed on her mother almost the entire time. It’s when she refuses her favourite dessert, cheesecake, that her brother’s interest is piqued.

“Mills.” Theo asks, amusement on his face at his sister’s behaviour. “What’s up with you?”

“Why don’t you ask Mom?” She said, pointedly looking at her mother. “Мама пытается разрушить мою жизнь, вот в чем дело.”

“I did not try and ruin your life, Amelia.” She says, rolling her eyes at her daughter's dramatics. She looks at her sons and their respective partners. “All I did was have a conversation with the boy who made Amelia cry herself to sleep a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah. By explaining that you’re a Section Chief at the FBI, whilst you had your gun and badge on display.” Amelia exclaims.

There was a moment of silence at the table before it descended into laughter, confusion all over Zach’s face on whatever he had walked into.

“Oh sweetheart.” Aaron says, looping his arm around the back of her chair to place a hand on her shoulder. “Not again.”

Amelia frowns, looking at her parents in shock. “Not again? What the hell does that mean?”

“Mom’s crazy, Millie.” Theo says, a laugh bursting out of him.

“Hey, I resent that.” Emily says, sinking back into her chair slightly, glaring at Aaron when he laughs at her and kisses the side of her head.

Jack gives Emily a look with his eyebrows raised before looking back at his sister. “My first ever girlfriend broke up with me the day before homecoming, Mom scared the absolute shit out of her by showing up at her cheerleading practise the following day. She somehow managed to mention that Dad once killed a guy with his bare hands.”

“Your dad did what?” Zach asks, leaning in to Theo who just shook his head. A silent promise that he’d explain later.

“In my defence.” Emily says, crossing her arms across her chest, a slight flush to her face. “This one was really sick at the time and I was pretty sleep deprived.” She says pointing at Amelia. “I wasn’t entirely in control of my emotions, and you were just so sad.”

“She also made me very aware of what she does for a living when Jack and I first moved in together.” Sara pipes up, nothing but amusement on her face when she looks at her mother-in-law. She turns back to Amelia. “I think it’s sweet.”

Amelia shakes her head at them all and turns to Zach. “Run whilst you still can.” __________________

Emily closes the door behind Jack and Sara as they leave, promises of getting together soon uttered in between lingering hugs.

“Mom?”

Emily turns to see Amelia standing behind her, her hands in her pockets as she avoids her mother’s gaze. It’s the calmest she’s looked all evening, any frustration she had towards her and her actions having melted away.

“Look, I’m sorry, Amelia.” She says taking a step towards her daughter. “I know I probably shouldn’t have done that. But you were so upset, and he deserved to-”

Her ranting is cut off by Amelia throwing her arms around her waist and placing her head on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Emily smiles and hugs her daughter back, kissing the top of her head as she pulls her closer. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“I always thought it would be Dad, or Theo or Jack who went after a boy for me.” She says against her mother’s shirt before she pulls away. “At least I can tell any future guys that my mom is crazy.” _________________

Emily turns to lay on her side as Aaron joins her in bed, she smiles at him and pushes some hair off of his forehead before running her blunt nails over his temples, the mix of dark and grey hair rasping as she goes. “When do you think Jack and Sara are going to tell us she’s pregnant?”

A laugh peels out of Aaron before he leans forward and kisses her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers. “Whenever they are ready.”

Emily shifts so her back is against him and pulls his arm over her waist, sighing when he settles his chest against her. “You’d think they’d learn they can’t hide anything from us.”

He kisses the top of her head and holds her a little tighter. “We’ve got some pretty great kids.”

“We really do.”

“You have got to stop threatening anyone who hurts them though.”

“Sure, love.” She says, pulling his hand up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll stop.”

They both know she won’t.

[fanfoolishness]

Finding the Way (The Mandalorian)

(Cara Dune & Din Djarin.  After the events of The Rescue, Din Djarin could use a friend.  Cara Dune doesn’t know what it means to be a Mandalorian, but some things are universal.  Friendship, angst, alcohol, religious questioning.  ~2400 words.)

***

She found Din Djarin alone, after the Jedi left with the child.

Cara wasn’t sure exactly when he’d slipped away from the bridge; there’d been a lot happening.  Bo-Katan and Kosca had been deep in conversation about their next destination, Fennec was pinging Boba to set up a rendezvous, and she’d busied herself with gagging the unconscious Moff and stowing him away in a corner with extra restraints.  The bastard had a lot to answer for.

In all that, though, she hadn’t wanted to look at the Mandalorian without his helmet.  It had felt too private, too close, to watch his goodbye with the kid.  Once the Jedi left, it seemed he’d taken advantage of her inattention.  

Without a ship, though, he hadn’t gone far.  He’d only been missing for fifteen minutes or so when she realized and started searching for him on the security console.  She gave a hasty request for the others to watch the Moff -- not as if Bo-Katan would let him try anything else -- and took the lift downstairs.  

She found him the next floor down from the bridge, inside the officers’ mess.  The half-opened door was scored with blaster fire; likely Din’s work when the doors wouldn’t open for him.  She peered in through the half-opened door, glancing away when she saw his mussed brown hair, a glimpse of his face.  She still wasn’t used to it, and still wasn’t sure if it was okay for her to see him like this.

“It’s me,” she called, rapping on the door with her knuckles.  Surprising a Mandalorian was a surefire way to an early grave.  “Can I come in?”

His voice sounded strange without the mechanical filter.  Human.  Almost small.  “Do what you want.”

That was encouraging, at least.  He wasn’t kicking her out entirely.  

She entered the room, rolling her eyes at Imperial waste.  Real wood paneling lined the walls, and instead of the spartan standard issue bench tables in the rank-and-file’s mess, individual tables with sleek surfaces and cushioned chairs dotted the room.  Gideon himself must have taken meals here.  

Din sat at the bar at the back of the room.  There was a half-drunk cup of liquor beside him, his helmet resting next to it, its visor turned away from him. 

“So… you okay?” Cara hazarded, taking the seat beside him.  It looked like he’d made a decent dent in a slim bottle of aged Corellian whiskey. Only the best for the officers, of course.  This stuff went for big credits in the Core, enough so that she’d never tasted it herself.

“I’m fine.”  He didn’t look at her.  He just stared straight ahead at the wall, brown eyes fixed on nothing in particular.  From the corner of her eye she could see the color of his face seemed off, red and blotchy in places.  Hell.  He’d been crying.

Her stomach twisted.  “Look… I’m sorry about the kid.  I know that had to be hard.”

He was silent for a moment.  When he spoke again, his voice was strained.  “Grogu.”

“Sorry?”

“I found another Jedi a few weeks back.  She said she couldn’t train him, but she was able to talk to him, mind to mind.  He told her about his life before I found him.  His name is Grogu.”

“Huh.  Grogu.” She chuckled.  “It’s cute.  Suits him.”

A slight dip of his head, angled toward her.  He was very still.  She could see a muscle in his cheek twitching. 

Blast.  She was no good at this crap.  She fished around for something to say, something that could help.  Maybe she could get him to talk; listening might be easier.  “You’re sure you’re fine?  Because you don’t look fine.” 

“I needed to help him find a Jedi,” Din said hoarsely.  “I did what I was tasked to do.  This is the W—“

But he cut himself off, turning his face away from her. His whole head moved to the side to shift his gaze, remnants of long years wearing a helmet.  Every martial style had its tells, and she could see the differences between the ways Bo-Katan and Koska moved, and how the man beside her moved and battled.  He was different from them, in fundamental ways, but she wasn’t sure why they could remove their helmets and he couldn’t.  Until he did.

Cara shook her head.  Think of something helpful.  You can do this.  “He’s gonna be okay, you know,” she said suddenly.  “I know who that was.  We droppers heard rumors during the war that a powerful Jedi took out the Emperor on Endor.  It has to be him.  Skywalker.  What other Jedi would fly in here in an X-Wing?”

“Good,” said Din.  He still wouldn’t look at her.  “So the Imps will never take him again.”

“I’d like to see them try.  I never knew a Jedi could do that,” said Cara.  She’d heard stories, of course, but stories were one thing.  Proof was another.  “I’m just glad he was on our side.”

Din turned back to facing forward, jaw tensed.  He nodded, a tight gesture that somehow seemed too broad for him.  Without the helmet, it was disconcerting to see emotions popping up on his face, vanishing as quickly as they came -- sorrow, pain, shame.  It almost would have been funny if it wasn’t so hard to look at.  Live your life in a helmet, guess you never have to learn to control your face.

She took a guess at the emotion that flicked past, marked in the set of his eyes, the downturned lines at his mouth.  “I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

“Maybe,” he said, and his gloved hands clenched on the table surface.  He reached out and took a drink.

“I didn’t know you drank,” she said.

“I don’t.”  His throat worked as he swallowed and drained the glass.

Oh.  “Right.”  

She reached out and took the bottle from him, pulling back a long slug on it.  It burned, clean and fierce, but it was strong stuff.  No wonder it sold for the price it did; she was surprised he wasn’t slurring already.�� “Be careful with this stuff, then.  It’s not for lightweights.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, then lapsed again into quiet.

Like talking to a durasteel wall, she thought.  “Look, I wanted to make sure you were okay.  That was rough up there.  I just -- if you want to talk about it, or something, I can listen.”  She leaned back in her chair, taking another drink of whiskey.  It seared.  “That’s all I’m trying to say.”

He turned toward her, canting his whole head instead of just moving his eyes.  There it was again, the tell that he’d lived in his helmet for a long, long time.  He took a deep breath, but he still couldn’t make eye contact with her.

“I know he has to do this.  I can’t teach him, not the way he needs.  I have -- I had to let him go,” he said.  The words sounded well-practiced, like he’d said them many times before.  

“I know,” she said.  “I’m so sorry.”  She tried a small smile, though her eyes watered suddenly.  “He -- Grogu -- he was crazy about you, you know?”

A slight shrug, shoulders scarcely moving.

“Well, he was.  Looked up to you like anything.  You guys have a bond.” 

“I did what I could for him,” said Din, closing his eyes.  “I hope it’s enough.”

“It is,” said Cara fiercely.  “You loved him, man.  No kid could ask for more than that.”

He was silent, and when he opened his eyes again, she could see that they were damp.

She swallowed, took another drink, unsure of what to say.  The quiet filled the space around them, a weighty, crushing thing.

Eventually she forced herself to speak again, casting around for something to say.  “So….  They’re making arrangements upstairs.  We’ll be rendezvousing with Fett soon, but you’re always welcome on Nevarro, too. Greef was heartbroken when I told him the Imps had the kid again, so I know he’d want to help you now.  Have you thought about where you want to go?”

“I don’t know.”  He turned away again, shoulders squaring beneath his armor.

“Well, if you don’t want to stay planetside for a while, it sounds like those other Mandalorians want your help. Honestly, if anyone could take back Mandalore, I’d put even credits on them. And on you.  Dank farrik, you even have that sword now.”

“I don’t want it,” he bit out.

“Yeah, I heard.  But you have it.  May as well use it, right?  Why give up a tactical advantage?” asked Cara.   “Sounds like it belongs in the hands of a Mandalorian anyway.”

“All the more reason for me not to wield it,” said Din, and there was something sour, something wrong, in the way his face twisted.

She stared at him, raising her eyebrows.  “What?  Wait. Are you saying —“

“I broke the Creed.  I showed my face,” he said, his voice cracking.  “I had a choice, and this is what I chose.  I am no longer worthy of my beskar.”

Cara tried wrapping her mind around it, remembered dragging him in from the battlefield, his blood hot and slick on her hand, the panic in his voice when she tried to remove his helmet to save his life.  “You chose to show your face to your child who needed you.  You did the right thing for you both.”  It didn’t make sense to her.  “I thought your people wanted to help foundlings.  Well, you helped him!”

“It is forbidden,” he forced out.

“You’re still a Mandalorian—”

Anger, grief, pain, rapid-fire flashes in his eyes and face, every muscle tensing for battle.  “You have never sworn the Creed.  You know nothing about it!”  

She bristled, fighting the urge to say something harsh, or worse, throw a punch at him to knock the sense back into him.  Beside her he was breathing harder, chest visibly rising and falling rapidly.  She bit her lip.  

“Okay, okay, maybe I don’t know what it’s like to be a Mandalorian,” Cara admitted sharply, lifting her hands to calm him.  “But I do know what it’s like to turn away from something you spent your whole life believing.  Alderaan had no army, remember?”

He breathed a little slower.  The flush of red in his face receded.  “You never told me why you became a soldier.  I assumed, after what happened --”

Her mouth twisted.  “Close, but not exactly.  I started seeing what my people couldn’t, before it happened.  The Empire was rising and people were dying.  Diplomacy stopped working a long time ago.  When I told my family I had to fight, even if that meant killing, they turned their backs on me.”

“They were blind,” said Din.  “The Imps weren’t going to stop expanding with peaceful protest.”

“Maybe,” she said.  This was the hard part.  The part that had taken her years to understand, that she was still trying to figure out.  “I think now… we wanted the same thing.  We just saw different paths to peace.  They thought pacifism was the way.  I saw the Empire killing people, terrorizing them, and that wasn’t peace.  I had to fight for peace to even begin to exist.”  She wiped her cheek, fingertips brushing over the tattooed Tear.  “So I was offworld, trying to become a new recruit, when the Empire showed Alderaan what they thought about peaceful resistance.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a tight, painful smile.  “But the thing is, Mando, I’m still Alderaanian.  No one can take that away from me but me.  Not the Empire, not my family, not the royal house of Alderaan.  Even if my family didn’t understand why I did what I did, I knew I was fighting to bring peace.  That’s what makes me Alderaanian.”  No matter what.

He gazed at the beskar helmet, shining beneath the overhead lights.  Its black visor was an empty void, disconnected from its bearer.

She let out a bark of a laugh, blinking away tears.  “I don’t know, man.  It’s your life.  Your Way.  But if your Way won’t let you show your face to your own kid when he needs you, maybe some of those rules should change.  If you still feel like a Mandalorian, I think that’s what makes you one, and not what anybody else says.”

He closed his eyes, hanging his head slightly.  He shifted in his seat with a small clink, one armored arm now resting against his helmet.  “I don’t know what I am now.”

Cara took another drink from the bottle, finishing the last of the whiskey.  “We’ve got two women up there who’d kill you in a heartbeat if you said they weren’t Mandalorian, and they show their faces clear as day.”  She shrugged.  “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to them about some of this stuff.  You could put it together with the old Way and make something new, something that feels right.  But for what it’s worth, Mando… you’ll always be a Mandalorian in my eyes.”  She clapped a hand over his shoulder, the beskar cool beneath her palm.

“It’s not --”  He struggled, mouth thinning, before he let out a long breath.  “That’s very kind,” he said slowly. He turned his head to look at her at last, searching her face.  He looked strangely vulnerable like this, far more so than he had dying in the dust of Nevarro. 

She nodded, attempting to smile, her mouth not quite getting there.  “Well, it’s true.”  

His face shifted into uncertainty.  “Perhaps the Way of the Mandalore is not… the only way to be a Mandalorian.”  He looked down at his helmet and swallowed.  “I’ll speak with the others, at least.”

“It’ll take time,” Cara said softly.  “You don’t have to figure it out right away.  Just… maybe hang on to your armor for a while, that’s all.”

He was quiet.  “Thank you.  Truly.”

“Sure,” Cara said, nudging him with her shoulder and giving him a quick smile.  “Any time.  After all, what are friends for?”    She leaned over the counter, pulling down another bottle of Corellian whiskey and grabbing an empty glass.  “What do you say to a toast?”

A dry chuckle.  “Sure.  You’ll have to tell me if I’m doing it right.  I’ve never done this before.”

“I think you’ll get the idea.”  She poured them each a glass, and raised hers high until it caught the light.  “To Grogu.”

The edges of his mouth turned up, just slightly.  Just enough.  He raised his glass to clink to hers, his brown eyes bright, his voice warm.  “To Grogu.”  

The whiskey burned in her throat, clean and pure.  To finding the Way.

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Witchcraft

Title: Witchcraft Summary: Sam & Dean found out you are a witch. You have to explain to them that you are not like the ones they hunt them Pairing: Winchester Brothers x Reader, Rowena, Castiel Prompt: Square Filled > MoodBoard Warnings: Witchcraft talking, negative and positive energies,  Word Count: 1581 This was written for the Make Me Feel Bingo of @girl-next-door-writes A/N: All the pictures were found on Google, except the anti possession tattoo, that picture is mine. Also, this is my first moodboard ever, so if you have any tips, let me know!

^

You’ve been hanging around and living with the Winchester since Bobby died. They promised him to look after you, mostly because you were hunting with them, but you’d rather doing research. You always said that knowledge was the best weapon you could master. Of course, Dean said you were as nerd as Sam was, but you wouldn’t complain because it was true. The Men of Letters’ bunker was a temple for you, it was pure gold. You spent hours and hours reading the books, the files, the research, everything. It was your perfect paradise.

One night after a rough hunt, Dean ended up having a really strong headache and nothing seemed to be helping him. You wanted to help him but you didn’t know how. You’ve read most of the books that were there and you couldn’t remember anything that could help him. Well, actually, there was one thing, and you’d promised Bobby to use it only with people you really cared about, and Dean clearly was important for you.

When you went to bed that night, you prayed. Prayed for Dean, prayed for protection, and prayed to help him to get rid of that headache. They didn’t know, but as Bobby used to say, you were special. It was a secret you needed to keep from them because you were aware of the reaction. Sometime later, Dean showed up at the library feeling a lot much better, like if he had never been on a tough hunt. You were really happy because he was feeling better, but you couldn’t say the same thing for you. You felt sick, probably the headache you were feeling was a lot stronger than Dean was feeling, you felt quite bad for him for feeling like that. You left your room and went directly to the kitchen, you needed to drink cold water. 

-Hey — Dean greeted you — are you alright? — he asked concerned -Yeah, I just need some cold water — you explained -Are you sure? -Yeah, don’t worry — you said entering the kitchen. There was Sam -Hi Sammy — you greeted him -Hi Y/N — Sam greeted — how… Are you feeling ok? -Yeah — you said filling a glass with the water — I just need this — you said gesturing the water glass -Are you sure? You look pale — Sam said concerned -Yeah, Sammy. Don’t worry, it’s just a headache — you explained -If you need anything, let me know — you just nodded and went back to your room

The following hunt, an exhausting werewolf pack that moved around a few states was killed, Sam ended up with a migraine. Again, you looked for any spell or medicinal herbs to help him, but nothing was a hundred percent safe, so you did as you promised and once you were back in the bunker, you prayed. You prayed for him, to help him feel better, to get rid of that migraine, to give him a peaceful rest without pain. And a few hours later, he was as good as new, with just a slight headache barely noticeable, but you, it was a whole another story. You were light-sensitive, your stomach was churning and the pain was crushing your skull. 

The next hunt was three days later after the werewolf pack. The guys had asked you to join them but you preferred staying to do some research, but actually, you just wanted to lay down and rest and get rid of the remnants of Sam’s migraine. The demon they were hunting had told Dean that you were a witch and you were performing witchcraft on them. Of course, Dean didn’t believe it and killed the demon. He wasn’t sure about it, because he started to remember his brother’s and his headache and hoe quickly faded. It was suspicious, but he couldn’t believe it. Probably the demon was just playing with his mind. 

When they arrived at the bunker, they found you fast asleep on the war table surrounded by books. Dean wanted to wait until you woke up to talk with you. Not long after they arrived you woke up. You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you entered the kitchen, Dean was already there with the computer looking for another case.

-Y/N, can we talk? — he said and you knew. He found out. -I guess — you said hesitating -How are you feeling? Really -I’m fine De — you said -Y/N, you stayed back on a demon hunt, and you were locked in your room with the lights out for two days. What’s going on? — He asked worried — Talk to me -I have strong headaches. I’ve been reading a lot lately and I’m getting older. I won’t be able to see perfectly my whole life — you just lie -Y/N, I’m serious — he clenched his jaw -Not now, De. I’m tired and I want to go to bed — you said heading to the hallways -Answer me this, and I let you go — you looked at him — promise -Ok. What do you want to know? -Are you a witch?  What? — you asked surprised -Seriously Dean? — Sam questioned entering the kitchen -Answer me -No, Dean. I’m not a witch. Why would you say that? -What’s going on with you?— Sam was pissed off -I’m sorry, I just needed to know -Why? — you asked curiously -It’s something the demon said. Forget about it. I’m sorry I asked. He probably was messing with my mind. I’m sorry. You can go to bed sweetheart — You didn’t say anything and left the kitchen

You felt bad for lying to them, but it was the best. Dean couldn’t find out, he would kill you. After that little discussion, you called Rowena for help. You weren’t feeling great. Rowena showed up, she helped you and stayed a little just in case you needed her again

-I wasn’t expecting you to upset her, dear— Rowena said -I didn’t mean it, but… -What if she is? Does it matter? I’m a witch and you haven’t killed me — Rowena mentioned -Yet — Dean said -What do you know Rowena? — Sam asked curious You were in the hallway listening, you needed to tell them the truth. -No, Dean. I’m not a witch, well, not like Rowena -What do you mean by saying not like her? — he was confused -She is considered a witch, but she is not like me. She does good things for people, she doesn’t do harm with what she does — Rowena explained -I’m not following — Sam said -Well, I do witchcraft for my own benefit. Y/N does it to help people, to help the people she cared about -Dean, you remember the headache you had a little while ago, and then vanished? I kind of cured it. And sam, the migraine you had the other day, I cured it too They were perplexed, they didn’t understand what you were talking about. They didn’t know what to believe anymore -Listen to her — Rowena begged -I prayed to the gods, the gods I praised, to help you, both of you to get rid of the headache, and I absorbed it -You absorbed it? -Dean asked -Yeah. Most of the headaches are caused by negative energies in your body. I’m very sensitive to them, so I can absorb them and help you to feel better — you explained — It’s difficult to understand, but I can show you some books where it’s explained -It’s not the same as I do. So when she feels bad, like today, she calls me for help, and I helped her to change those negative energies into positive energy and make her feel better -I work with energies, the phases of the moon. I promise you Dean, I would never use these gifts to do harm, ever -She is considered a witch by the bible because it says that is something given by the devil — Rowena explained -It’s true — Castiel appeared — She has asked me a few times for help. She only does good -I understand if you don’t believe me guys, but please, don’t kill me. I’ll go -Y/N, we would never kill you. You are everything to us, and we promised Bobby to keep you safe — Sam said -But that was before we knew this — Dean commented -Dude, come on — Sam scolded Dean -If it makes you feel better, Bobby knew and he made me promised to do only good to the people I care about. And that’s you guys. — you said and started to move to the hallway to go to your room to pack your stuff -Y/N — Dean called you — Do you promise me, that you would never ever for any reason use that to harm people? -I promise you, Dean, I would never use them to cause any type of harm to anyone — you said sincerely -I’m sorry I reacted that what— Dean said and hugged you — you know how much I hate witches

You laughed and hugged him back. You knew that you needed to do a lot of explaining to them, but it was only a matter of time until they truly believed you. But lucky for you, Cas and Rowena were there to help you.

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added)

@iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ | @void-hoechlin | @mrspeacem1nusone | @thevelvetseries | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem​ | @caplanbuckybarnes​ | @caplanreads​ | @akshi8278​ | 

[that-crow-kid]

to define a way of being

by @galactic-cam (galactic_cam on ao3) for @slothbeans (slothbeans on ao3) in the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

the story is here on ao3

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, background May Parker

Summary: Peter Parker had ADHD. He’d never gotten an official diagnosis, and it’d never been on his medical records. All he had was the vague memory of a doctor at his four-year-old check up recommending he get tested - and then his parents dying before the appointment could be made. He's done his research - there's nothing else it could be. But he'd adjusted, and he was good at school, so it hadn't really mattered all that much.

And then, because the spider bite put its greasy little fingers on everything else, it had to grab that, too.

It had been a rough few days. Well, no, scratch that, a rough few months. 

Peter Parker had ADHD. He’d never gotten an official diagnosis, and it’d never been on his medical records. When he was super little, like, before his parents died little, his pediatrician had told them that he should probably get tested. But then they’d died, less than a week later, and Peter was left with no official diagnosis, just the remnants of a memory of the doctors appointment. He’d reinforced this idea all throughout his life with his own research, but he had never told Ben or May. He figured they had enough to worry about, what with their four-year-old nephew suddenly coming to live with them after Ben’s sister-in-law and brother tragically died in a plane crash and all. 

So he’d just kept quiet. He was incredibly smart, and nobody ever accommodated for him, so he learned to adapt. Maybe not super well, but his grades were stellar despite the ADHD, so nobody ever really cared enough to diagnose or medicate him. 

And then he’d been bitten by the spider and it had gotten worse.

He’d always identified with Percy Jackson’s view of ADHD: You can’t streamline your thoughts because you get much more input. It made sense, and it was kind of how he felt. But then he developed superpowers, and it made more sense than ever before. 

He was getting 15 times the input he’d been getting before, between the super hearing and the super sight. It was pretty useful when he was fighting - if he was ‘focusing’ on one guy, he was also aware of the other guy pulling out a knife from a hidden pocket, and could adjust accordingly. It was not so great for school. It was already hard when you were acutely aware of the people whispering across the room - it was worse when you could actually hear what they were saying, and what the kids in the classrooms next to, across the hall from, above, and below you were all talking about. 

When his grades took a dip, he wasn’t shocked. He was mad at himself, of course, that he was letting his ADHD get in the way when he’d always been able to manage it, and since Peter Parker was good at stuff, there was a massive hit to his ego. He quit most of his after school activities to compensate - he needed to be doing stuff he was good at - and not at school where he was doing sub-par - and the thing he was suddenly good at was fighting crime.

And then Tony Stark had shown up at his door and whisked him away to Germany to steal Captain America’s shield, and his Homecoming had happened, and suddenly he was going to Mr. Stark’s lab in the newly rebought tower twice a week and staying over at the compound once a month.

Mr. Stark’s labs were actually a safe haven. They were sound proof, and Mr. Stark always had loud music playing, and most of the time there was nothing in there that messed with his senses. Mr. Stark worked strangely, jumping around from project to project unless he found one that really grabbed his attention. That style of working really clicked with Peter - he’d always just sat down and tried to do whatever it was he needed to - which had never really worked that well - but working in the lab, bouncing from thing to thing? That was perfect.

Today was different.

Peter had gotten his report card last week, and since it was now Tuesday, that meant he got to be scolded by Mr. Stark now, on top of the disappointment he’d gotten all weekend from May.

See, his grades were bad. Like, really bad.

Well, to a lot of kids, his grades were average, even pretty good. But for Peter Parker, top of the class in one of the country’s best schools, every teacher’s favorite Peter Parker, anything below a 90 was an extreme rarity. Anything below an 80? Where several of his grades were? Gods save the earth, because it was going to implode.

May had mostly been confused, with that constant disappointment rushing through her words. Why had he gotten Cs? He was supposed to be Peter Parker, perfect student, perfect kid. 

And now, Mr. Stark was going to take away his suit. His spider-manning was entirely reliant on his grades staying up, Mr. Stark had been clear on that. And how could he be Tony Stark’s protege if he got Cs? Mr Stark was halfway through his PhD by Peter’s age. 

Today was probably going to be the last time he saw Tony.

That was upsetting -  lab time was the only thing (other than spider-manning) that he looked forward to anymore. He was good at lab time, and Peter Parker was good at stuff. 

Of course, his brain gave a little “not anymore, you’re not.” Which, not cool, his brain was supposed to be on his side.

When he walked into the lab, Mr. Stark wasn’t working on anything, which was unusual, to say the least. He was seated, facing the door, a look of such disappointment on his face. 

Peter’s eyes focused on the floor. Wow, Mr. Stark sure had some nice tile under the epoxy that covered his lab floor. How could Peter have never noticed before?

“Peter.”

Tony’s voice startled him a bit, even though he knew that was why he’d been looking at the floor in the first place.

“Hey, Mr. Stark! How are you today? I’m really great. What are we working on today?” His sentences all came out in a rush, barely leaving any space between the words.

When he glanced up, Mr. Stark was looking at him, a smirk of amusement was tilting his lips, even though the rest of his face was still etched with disappointment. 

“What happened

Peter shrugged, eyes going back to looking at the floor.

“C’mon Kid, I need an actual answer. I know you’ve been doing all your work, and I know you’ve been home by curfew, unless you’ve hacked your suit again and convinced Karen to lie to me about it. So why’re your grades so low?”

“I- I don’t know.”

“Peter, you are the worst liar in the world.”

Peter sighed. “I know.”

“So? What happened?”

Peter glanced up. He looked at his mentor’s face, expecting disappointment, but instead he found… worry? And maybe curiosity?

“I have ADHD.”

“What? That’s not in your medical files -”

“I know, it’s not an official diagnosis. I was going to get one when I was little but… my appointment was after the plane crash, and…”

“You never did.”

“I never did. And I adjusted, kept my grades high, and nobody ever thought I could possibly have ADHD.”

“So what happened here?”

“The spider bite. It was always hard having ADHD because I noticed so much, but there’s a difference between being aware that the kids in the back of the room are talking and being able to hear what the class on the other side of the school is discussing with perfect clarity.”

Tony nodded. “I can only imagine.”

“But so my focus and participation went down, as did the quality of any work I did anywhere but in here.”

“Peter, why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Peter shrugged, but he knew the answer. He didn’t want Mr. Stark to think badly of him. How could he, Tony Stark’s protege, have ADHD?

Tony sighed. “Kid, did you know I have ADHD?” Now that caught Peter’s attention. He abruptly looked up. “What?”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, kid. Dear old dad paid a lot to cover that up. And I wasn’t nearly as good at hiding it as you. I was all the way hyperactive, and Dad refused to medicate me. Told me to get over it, or that he wasn’t going to fuel a drug addiction in his son. His excuse changed.”

“But - But you were so good at school!”

“Dad paid off MIT to keep them quiet, but I assure you kid, I failed… several classes..”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

There was a quick beat.

“So, kid, what do you want to do about it?”

Peter, who’s eyes had refound their way to the floor, snapped back up to Tony. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you want to get a professional diagnosis? See a therapist? I’ve been meaning to rope you into therapy for a while now, this might just be the perfect way to start.”

“No - No, Mr. Stark! I don’t need therapy!”

“You might not need it yet - which I doubt, considering you fight crime in New York and I’ve seen you have several panic attacks - but all of the avengers go, and you’re an avenger-in-training. Gotta get you ahead of the game, kid.”

Peter sighed. “Fine. Okay, Mr. Stark.”

Tony pulled him into a brief hug, then slapped his back. “Brilliant, I’ll get on that for you later. For now, though, you wanna do something fun?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds -”

“Fun?” Tony broke in, a smile dancing across his face.

“Fun.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 14 (Mafia AU)

Summary:   Rus ran away after his argument with Blue, what new trouble might he find himself in?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warning: Warnings for implications of prostitution.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

~~*~~

Read Chapter 14 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Rus didn’t remember falling asleep and when he woke to the furtive whispers around him, enough time had passed that his joints were aching from being curled into the corner, his sockets itchy with the remnants of tears encrusted around them. He recoiled from the sudden light filling the room, burying his face into his updrawn knees as he cringed away from the tittering voices above him.

“…who do you think…”

“…even get in here…”

“…such a cutie, don’t call the bouncer, sweet thing can’t mean any harm…”

“Mona, isn’t this one of yours?”

That name registered through his foggy thoughts and Rus jerked, looking up into the half-circle of unfamiliar Monster faces surrounding him, Buns and Cats and Lizards, each one heavy with eye shadow and lipstick, dusted in flecks of glitter that flashing in the overhead light.

One figure pushed through the rest, and Rus could have cried in relief as he recognized Mona, her long ears drooping in concern. She crouched down, her thin robe hanging open over a tight-cinched corset and her breasts threatening to overflow from their confinement. She made an impatient shooing gesture at the others. “Go on, now, all of you, I’ll take care of him.”

The others filed out reluctantly, their heels clicking on the tile floor. The strip club break room, Rus abruptly recalled, he’d shortcutted down here thoughtlessly, only wanting to get away from Blue and his anger. Remembering the accusations his brother had thrown at him made renewed tears well in his aching sockets and Mona made a concerned sound, her hand hovering close to him but not touching.

“Honey,” she said, gently, “what are you doing down here?” Her kind gaze sharpened, moving over his tearstained cheekbones. “You in some kind of trouble, sweetheart?” Something in her voice implied heavily that if he were, she had a thing or three to say about it.

“no,” Rus croaked out. He was, but it wasn’t anything Mona could help him with. “just…arguing with my brother.”

Mona sank back on her bright red heels, relief flickering over her pretty face as she laughed, “Oh, is that all? Me and my sisters, we fight like sabretooth tigers, but we still love each other to bits! It’ll be all right, sugar, you’ll see.”

Despite her clothes, her reassurance was motherly sweet. But Rus wasn’t so sure she was right. If life Aboveground taught him anything, it was that he couldn’t depend on the kindness of strangers, none of them had much to spare, not even other Monsters.

Maybe not even brothers.

The thought left him weary and Rus shifted, starting to painfully uncurl his way out of the corner, wincing as his joints grumbled in protest. “sorry, i shouldn’t be here, i’ll get out of the way.” He had no idea where he might go, only a vaguely formed thought of heading back upstairs to the room with the books to sleep on one of the leather sofas for the night.

Mona only shook her head, her ears tousling around her slim shoulders. “There’s no rush.” She snagged a worn cushion from the shabby sofa and sat on it next to Rus, her long, bare legs curled underneath her. When she held out a slender arm in offering, Rus wavered for only a moment before he gave in, leaning into her gentle embrace. She smelled sweetly floral, almost like Blue and renewed tears pricked Rus’s sockets. “We can sit here awhile, honey, I don’t start my shift for a little bit yet. I’m early, came over right from class to help the other gals get ready.”

“you take classes?” Rus asked, eager for any kind of distraction.

“Sure do. Studying to be a nurse.” An unexpectedly cynical note dropped into her light voice as her long nails scraped soothingly over Rus’s skull. “Monsters need all the medical staff they can get, not like the Humies are too eager to have us in their hospital wings.”

Everyone in the city had a story, Rus knew, some more interesting than others, and like Edge, Mona’s was not at all what he’d been expecting. Unlike Edge, it was very easy to see Mona working as a nurse, caring for her patients as kindly as she was Rus. Her slim fingers kept stroking lightly over Rus’s bare skull, easing his lingering headache. He sighed, pushing into her touch, “i think you’ll be an excellent nurse.”

“Aw, you sweetheart!” Mona exclaimed. She pressed a light kiss against his skull and Rus told himself to make sure he wiped away any lipstick stains when he had the chance. “I sure hope so. Classes are expensive and it was hard to get a job that’ll pay for it, until I came here.” Her voice rose, consonants sharpening into defiance, “Some people think its trashy and maybe it is. Sure, I take my clothes off for money, but I know that this is a safe place to work. The bouncers keep any of the customers from getting handsy and there’s cots where we can sleep in the back room if we’re nervous about heading home before daylight.”

She sighed softly, her hand working its gentle way down to Rus’s cervical vertebra. “The only girls I worry about are the ones making money on the side. The boss can’t stop them, of course, but he can’t protect them if they go off on their own. Customers who seem like nice fellas at the bar can get rough on their own, if you know what I mean. Better to keep it in house.”

“it doesn’t bother you?” Rus couldn’t help asking. He thought of being out on that stage, exposed to the hungry stare of the people in crowd, and shivered. It reminded him a bit of Blaze whispering to him in hazy flame-speak, cruel words about his pretty mouth as burning hands moved painfully over him. “the way the customers…are?”

Mona shrugged, jostling Rus against her side. “If I were on the street any one of those assholes could catcall me, grab at me, and all I could do is run. When I’m up there dancing? I’m the one with the power. It’s my body and they can look but not touch.” Her philosophical tone darkened. “Still gotta be careful, though. Once you decide to sell any part of yourself, some guys think it's all up for grabs and all that’s left is haggling over the price.”

Haggling over the price. Was that what he and Edge were doing now?

You’re so eager to be used up and tossed aside, I hope at least it pays well!

Rus shuddered, burying his face into Mona’s shoulder and breathing her floral perfume again. She was taking care of herself, earning her own money without having to depend on mysterious benefactors or brothers. Not only that, she was paying for classes to further her education and once she became a nurse, she’d be able to hang up her fancy brassieres and set her high heels aside. Would it be so bad, he wondered, to get up on the stage for a paycheck? It wasn’t at all like what Blaze had done, not really, they could look but not touch, Mona said, she was the one with the power here; she chose to be on the stage, no one dragged her up there with brutal hands to force anything, not from her.

Could he possibly…?

It couldn’t be here, of course, but there were other clubs. Surely they would be as protective of their staff as this one, perhaps even more so without someone like Red in charge. If Blue was…if he didn’t…well, Rus might well need a quick way to earn a little money of his own and he very much suspected there weren’t many florist shops hiring Monsters out there at a decent wage.

He drew away from Mona, meeting her curious brown eyes as he asked, “could you maybe…show me?”

Her gentle smile slipped, “You want me to dance for you?”

“no!” Rus gasped, horrified, hastily shaking his head, “no, no, i meant—show me how? to dance? a little?” He doubted he could manage any of the gyrations he’d seen through the glass when he’d arrived here on his first try, but, well, his first few bouquets wouldn’t have won a Gala award, either.

Mona’s almost hurt expression faded, taking on a more mischievous cast, “Oh, I see how it is!” She laughed teasingly and elbowed him gently in the side. “You want to impress someone with a few moves, is that it?”

It wasn’t, not at all, but Rus let the fiery blush flooding his cheekbones speak for him.

Mona’s grin widened, showing off her prominent front teeth. “Well, all right then, sugar, come on! We can head to the green room, it’ll be empty ‘til after midnight.”

She scrambled graceful to her feet despite the tottering height of her heels, pulling Rus more clumsily along behind her, “But first, let’s find something else for you to wear, sweetheart. You’re as cute as a lil’ ol’ punkin, but I think we’re after a different kind of appeal.”

He followed her from the room and couldn’t help noticing that through a discreet slit in her sheer panties, her fluffy tail was wriggling excitedly.

What had he gotten himself into this time?

~~*~~

It didn’t take very long for Rus to start regretting his life choices. Again.

Mona led him to a dressing room where other strippers were busily preparing for their sets. None of them gave him more than a curious glance and were completely unbothered by their own nudity as they stepped into filmy panties or tugged lacy bras that exposed more than they hid into place. More breasts than he’d seen in every movie he’d ever watched were on display along with a kaleidoscope variety of pert nipples, some pierced with bars or hoops, linked by a chain between them. He didn’t mean to stare but the alternative was either focusing on their poufy hair or dropping his gaze even lower to inspect a new variety of piercings in places he could hardly fathom.

The sprinkler system on the ceiling was fascinating, Rus decided, and he tried to keep his gaze there.

At least the clothes Mona chose for him weren’t terrible. She made no attempt to get him into any sort of thong and instead handed over a pair of faux black leather pants that were so tight on him that he couldn’t imagine a fleshier monster squeezing into them. They rode low on his pelvis, lewdly exposing the upper curves of his iliac crests. Not that he had much shame left after dropping trou in the same room as the others, yanking those trousers up over his legs so hastily friction burned against his femurs.

They were a little short on him, reaching only mid-calf and exposing the delicate bones of his ankles and feet. Mona took advantage of it to thread a slender golden ribbon around one of his tibias, braiding it up and around his fibula in a delicate weave and tying it off in a bow. A half shirt that clung to his ribcage and left the length of his spine exposed completed the ensemble, if it could be called that.

There was a full-length mirror on one wall, blurry with fingerprints that only increased the sureality of seeing himself like this. He’d sat unblinking while Mona applied makeup and now he could see his wide sockets were lined in burnt orange that darkened into shadowing wings of kohl. Powder dusted his cheekbones, hiding most of his bright freckles and giving the illusion of narrowing his nasal aperture. The tight shirt was nearly translucent over what little it did cover, showing off his ribs, smooth and unblemished, a match to his exposed iliac crests rising over the tight waist of the pants. His slim feet were bare, the glittery ribbon woven through one leg inexorably drawing the gaze downward to the delicate intricacies of the bones there.

He looked like someone else, someone coolly distant and beautiful. Someone he wasn’t sure he wanted to be.

“Honey, you look a treat,” Mona clapped her hands together in delight and the other strippers crowded in close, chorusing their agreement. She gathered him up and led him back through the gauntlet of bared breasts to the door despite his burgeoning reluctance. “Come on, let’s go see what you can do with it!”

Despite Mona’s enthusiasm, Rus figured out very quickly that this career path wasn’t for him. The green room was for private events, Mona confided, with its own little stage and an array of overhead lights that flashed along with the growling music she chose. But even without the high heels, Rus wobbled clumsily as he tried to circle the platform to the low bass tempo. He was sweating in mere minutes, slick bony fingers sliding frictionlessly off the metal pole as he tried to swing around it and sending him tumbling to the ground.

Mona’s helpless giggles weren’t unkind as she helped him back up. “All right, sugar, first of all, put on these, it’ll help.” She held out a pair of fingerless gloves and Rus slid them on, flexing his hands against the soft leather. Then he squeaked in surprise as Mona came up behind him, pressing the lithe, furry length of her body against his own. Her hands settled firmly on his pelvis and Rus barely bit back a yelp of protest at the unwanted intimacy of it. Her touch was professional, the way she guided his hips decidedly not.

Although he supposed it depended on the profession

Over the music, Mona said, “Now, you gotta have some kinda rhythm in those lovely bones. Listen to the music, sweetheart, you’re no beater, pretty thing, I know you can feel it.”

He tried to do as she said, listening to the music, following the guiding pressure of her hands. At first, it felt like he was at war with it, battling against the notes and her touch as one. Then just as he was about to give up, it suddenly clicked.

Under pressure, the singer crooned thickly overhead, the thrumming beat heavy in the room, under pressure. Rus obeyed the pulse of it, the command, sockets drifting closed as he swayed dreamily along.

“There you go, honey,” Mona’s voice floated to him. Her hands fell away, leaving him alone with the rhythm. “You got it, just like that.”

He obeyed, twirling around the pole and shifting his hips along with the beat. He twisted into a little shimmy, following the call of the song, and he might not be the most talented dancer, but a lack of ligaments to hold him back meant he was very flexible. He curled a leg around the pole and managed a decent half spin around it, dipping down low and barely hearing Mona’s appreciative whistle. His pelvis grinding against unyielding metal pressed tight between his legs sent an unexpected trill up his spine, and he imagined a crowd watching him, a once terrifying thought strangely exhilarating. No matter how they wanted him, they couldn’t have him, could only stare in furious need at the way he moved, his sleek bones untouchable for them, his body offered only to the one he desired and—

The music cutting off abruptly caught him off guard and Rus stumbled, panting, blinking stinging sweat from his sockets as he looked out through the glaring lights in confusion and his soul froze like a solid lump in his chest at what he saw.

Edge was standing inside the doorway, tall and imposing, a curled fist still on the sound system controls. His crimson eye lights cut through the darkened room like burning hellfire and instead of the heavy tension from the music, the air between them was filled with a seething, unnamed emotion. Not anger, not quite, and Rus stood frozen, barely noticing the ticklish trickle of a sweat droplet running down his ribs, dripping off to patter wetly on one exposed pelvic crest.

“Hello, you two.” The cool evenness in Edge’s rough voice belied the fire blazing from his sockets. “Are you having fun?”

~~*~~

tbc

[bunnyywritings]

just hear me out

Tsukishima kei x fem!reader

𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 - 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 - 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥

[a/n: here’s pt. 2 of hollow words and misunderstandings, I hope ya’ll are enjoying! Sorry if this one is short...I tried my best but I would definitely appreciate some feedback and suggestions if you have ‘em, part 3 is coming soon ♡ well without further adieu, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´- ps. salty boy Tsukki might be a bit out of character in this one but I tried to make it as cannon as possible]

recap:

“You really are something, chibi-chan.”

Back inside the gym, Hinata was ranting about  his teammate.”I don’t understand how he could be so dense.”

“You’re one to talk.” Kageyama snickered, although it went completely over his head. “But I guess he realized that he was rude and went to apologize.”

Kuroo froze. “He what?”

“He went to apologize.” Hinata repeated.

“When?”

“What’s wrong?” Bokuto cocked an eyebrow at his friends abrupt worry.

“Uhh a few minutes ago, I think. He went right around the corner. Why?”

Kuroo groaned and slapped his forehead. “He probably saw it.”

“Saw what?” Lev asked as he absentmindedly tossed the ball from hand to hand.

“I kissed (y/n).”

“YOU WHAT?!”

Kuroo sighed and buried his face in his hands. “Yeah, we uh kissed. It was completely an accident.”

“How do you kiss someone on accident?” Hinata’s eyes widened.

“We just-” Kuroo groaned in frustration, because he honestly didn’t know either. “It just happened. We both agreed instantly that it meant absolutely nothing. It-it was a mistake.” Everyone was surprised to see the usually confident captain panic. 

The next couple of days were rough. Training camp was coming to an end and the team could feel the tension between you and Tsukishima. The only people who knew were Kageyama and Hinata, since they had been there. Yamaguchi knew because...well cause he’s Yamaguchi. Why wouldn’t he? But of course, Hinata being the big mouth he is, he told the rest of the team. Daichi immediately scolded him for talking about other people’s personal problems. It couldn’t be helped. The entirety of the Karasuno vbc knew, except for Ukai and Takeda but they both figured it out by the way the two of you had been interacting during training as of late. Once it was time for individual training, you had desperately hoped that you wouldn’t be paired with Tsukishima. His words hurt and they hit deep.

“(Y/n) go ahead and work with Hinata and Tsukishima on their blocking please. They seem to be lacking today.”

“O-Of course, Coach Ukai.” You wanted to cry. Why?

“Asahi-senpai! Do you think you could help us out with some of those awesome spikes?” You called over to the third year. He blushed at your praise and agreed.

“I’ll help too!~” Sugarawa called out as he jogged along the ace.

“Thank you Suga-senpai!”

Tsukishima grimaced. Were you teasing him by calling to the upperclassmen like that? Or was he just being ridiculous? He remembered when you had jokingly called him ‘senpai’ in a sickeningly cute tone a couple of times just to get a reaction from him. It worked. It made him blush. He’d die before letting you see him like that though, always turning his head to avoid looking in your beautiful eyes.

“Alright Hinata! You first.” You gestured for him get ready. He did. He got low, ready to launch himself. Sugarawa set the ball, Asahi spiked and Hinata’s fingers barely grazing the ball. You ran forward and squatted down, doing a bump receive and letting the ball fly up before catching it in your hands.

“That was close. Good job!” You praised, giving him a high five.”The only thing I would tell you is, don’t be afraid. There’s a ton of space between you and the back row. Step back and get a running start or swing your arms back to get that good jump in.”

“Right!” Tsukishima rolled his eyes at the determined grin that had appeared on Hinata’s lips.

“You’re up, Tsukishima.” You instructed timidly. He said nothing as he switched places with HInata.

Set. Spike. Block. He got a good one-touch but he wasn’t satisfied.

“That was good!” He clenched his teeth as his heartbeat started to increase. Why did you have to flash him that beaming smile? After what he did to you? “My one recommendation though, launch yourself from the balls of your feet. Like this.” You motioned for Sugarawa to serve. He watched as you squatted down, your toned thighs peeking from your shorts. The way you pushed upward and launched from the balls of your feet just like you instructed him. The curve of your back captivating as you flicked your wrists out and successfully blocked the spike. “You got that?” He snapped out of his trance and turned away.

“Tch, whatever.”

You scoffed, a muttered ‘Are you kidding me?’ left your lips.

“What’s wrong, chibi-chan?” Kuroo’s nickname for you rolled off his tongue venomously. “Are you not having a good time? I know you’d rather be lip locked with your boyfriend but this is what you signed up for.” He sneered. Causing you and everyone around you to freeze up.

“What? I-I don’t have-”

“Don’t play coy. I saw you with captain rooster head that night.” He cut you off.

“He’s not my boyfriend but-but why would you care?” You scowled, slightly confused.

“Because if you’re bored, then you should just go.”

Again, everyone was caught off guard. Watching all of this go down, not knowing whether to keep watching or at least attempt to look busy while eavesdropping.

“Do you really not want me here?” You asked in a small voice, your eyes were downcast but he could tell you were tearing up. His silence was enough. “Fine. But just so you know, I didn’t sign up to help stuck up snobs like you.” You laughed bitterly. “To think that I like a jerk like you, I-...” A choked sob left your throat before he was staring at your back and watching you leave in tears again for the second time this week. All because of him.

“A-Alright everyone! Stop gawking and head to the dining room. It’s time for dinner!” Coach Ukai called with a clap of his hands. As everyone filed out, Tsukishima bit his lip harshly and look down at the polished floors, fist clenched so tight that he shook. A hand gripped his shoulder. He turned to see Coach Ukai and Takeda.

“You didn’t mean that, did you?” Takeda asked quietly, a knowing tone in his voice that irked the tall blonde.

“...no.” he rasped out, he himself was also close to tears. Self-loathing had filled his entire body.

“Then go talk to her kid. I’m sure you can talk it out, she’s pretty understanding.” Ukai gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

“And patient. Especially since she deals with all of you.” Takeda added softly.

“Yeah, I know.” And with that, he went after you. It’s not like you went far. He found you under the shade of a tree. It seemed twisted but he thought that you still looked pretty. Even with tears in your eyes, the skin around your eyes and on your nose tinged pink from rubbing at them, even with the remnants of snot that had leaked out of your nose. You were beautiful but he quickly remembered why you were crying.

You watched as he approached and silently sat beside you. The summer breeze licking at your skin as you both sat in silence.

“I know you probably don’t even want to be near me right now but please, just hear me out. I-” but he was cut off.

“You confuse me, Kei.” His breathing hitched at the soft sound of his name leaving your lips. “First you flirt with me, you tease me, and then you turn around and insult me.” You finally turned to look at him. “Do you really hate me that much? Was this all a game? Am I a joke to you?”

“N-no.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded desperately.

“I...I hate how you make me feel.” You frowned. “I have feelings for you and it scares me.” He grit his teeth. He was never this open about how he felt. “I always convince myself that-that you’re too good for me. I don’t deserve your time. Especially after what I said to you.”

You were stunned silent. You didn’t expect that to come out of his mouth.

“I was going to apologize but then I saw you and Kuroo...”

“So you didn’t mean those things that you said?”

“No. I’d hate if you left the club. Especially if it was my fault.”

Your heart fluttered just a tiny bit. “Just to clear things up. I don’t like Kuroo, not like that anyways. I still very much have feelings for you.” You confessed. You finally met his eyes. Those damn shimmering pools of honey.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I regret what I said.”

“Thank you, Kei. I forgive you.” Oh how you wanted to kiss him.

“Then go ahead and do it, shrimp.” Shit. Did I just say that out loud?

“My, my. What a dirty mouth.” He smirked.

“I- ack!” You were pulled over to him, basically straddling his hips. “Kei! W-What are you doing?!” You panicked at his bold actions. He was a blunt guy but this was a bit much.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.” His voice was low, he was so close to you. His breath lightly fanning over your face. You blushed but didn’t say no. He was leaned back and resting against one hand, the other one lightly gripping the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss. Your hands were gripping the collar of his t-shirt as your lips meshed like two missing puzzle pieces. It was sweet but passionate. He was putting all the feelings he couldn’t verbally formulate into it. Desperately trying to convey how he felt. You smiled against his lips. This was what you wanted all along. Him.

Hesitantly, you both pulled away. The hand that was at the back of your neck was now cupping your jaw. Thumb grazing over your pink, blushy cheek.

“I uhm wow. Can we-can we do that again?” You stuttered.

“Are you seriously asking?” 

So there you were, sitting under the shade of the tree and enjoying the summer breeze. Lips locked, behind you the sun was bidding its farewell. Tinges of pinks and oranges painted the sky. It felt so unreal. Like you were both protagonists of a cheesy coming of age film. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You jolted awake, Yachi shaking your shoulders. “It’s time to wake up, (y/n).” she spoke softly.

“What time is it?” You spoke, voice groggy and movements sluggish as you sat up.

“6:30. Breakfast is in a half hour.”

“Thanks Yachi.” She hummed with a nod of her head and walked out. Some of the other managers were still asleep. Slowly, as you got up, your mind began to race. Was that really all a dream? It felt so real...

With a gloomy mood, you showered and changed into black shorts.You grabbed the pullover that was draped over your duffel bag and slipped it on. Pausing at how big it was. Sure you had ordered yours a size larger since sweaters were always comfier a size larger but this was at least 2xs larger than your normal size. Then you remembered.

The evening had gotten colder quickly, and you were basically shivering.

“Here. So you don’t freeze to death or whatever.” Tsukishima held out his ics pullover, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“You’re such a tsundere, Kei.” You teased, snatching he sweater from his grip and quickly pulling it on.

A squeak of excitement left your lips. So it wasn’t a dream. You really did kiss him. Pulling on your knee brace and shoes, you made your way to the dining hall. A little pep in your step. Something that definitely didn’t go unnoticed. Especially not with Detective Sugarawa on the case.

He watched as you basically skipped into the line, a soft smile gracing your lips as you grabbed your breakfast and sat with Kiyoko and Yachi.

“Hmm, (y/n) seems to be in a good mood.” Daichi noticed. They had all been worried about you. They even had to go as far as talking Kiyoko from beating some sense into Tsukishima for making you cry.

“I think she’s wearing Tsukishima’s sweater.” At Suga’s words, they all subtly glanced in your direction. The sweater was definitely not yours.

What confirmed it though, was when Tsukishima and Yamaguchi passed by the table you were at. While Yachi and Kiyoko were distracted with greeting some of the other managers that had joined, Tsukishima placed a carton of strawberry milk and a wrapped rice ball onto your tray. The three nosy third years had their jaws on the ground. They were not expecting that at all. You were a flustered mess. The same couldn’t be said about him, he was completely composed as he sat down to eat. Glancing your way every so often, a barely noticeable blush burning his cheeks when he saw you happily sipping at the beverage he had gotten you. He couldn’t believe it. You were finally his.

taglist: @ewwis

[imhereformr]

11 for Flora x Mirta (underrated ship)

11. Secret Relationship

Flora checked her purse for the millionth time as she waited for the bus. She swore she was forgetting something, but nothing was missing. Keys, check. Wallet, check. Bus ticket, check. Book, check. Birth certificate in case she was stopped, check. She carried the roses she’d bought at the florist two doors down from the office building she worked in, so she knew she hadn’t forgotten those. Had she forgotten to file something? Or maybe there was a memo she’d forgotten to leave on the boss’s desk? Either way, it was too late now. She was already a ten-minute walk away at the bus stop and Mirta was expecting her home. 

Flora walked onto the bus and gave the driver her ticket. It was the same driver she always had in the evening: a kind old man with short, thinning white hair. A much more pleasant one than the racist she had to deal with in the mornings. “Got a secret admirer?” the driver asked, nodding to the bouquet.

“Oh no” Flora laughed awkwardly. “They’re for my -” Girlfriend. “Mother. Tomorrow’s her birthday and she just loves roses.”

“Well, aren’t you a good daughter” he commented. Flora smiled appreciatively and took her seat at the back of the bus. Flora hated lying to the man, but this was 1952 and her relationship with Mirta was illegal in more than one way. Where Mirta had milky white skin, Flora’s was darker, like café au lait. White didn’t date anything other than white, and women and men didn’t date anyone other than each other. Lying was a necessity; they had to do it to protect themselves. That was why everyone believed they were best friends who roomed together, not lovers. 

For the longest time, they had just been best friends. They’d met on the sidewalk when they were six. Mirta had been playing hopscotch and Flora had walked by, commenting that it looked fun. Mirta had invited her to join. Thankfully, Mirta’s parents were very progressive and had accepted; most white parents would have gone into hysterics at the thought of their precious little girl playing with a Latina. They would play at Flora’s for the most part as her community didn’t care much if the white girl came around. Every time Flora went to Mirta’s, though, she could see the women peering out of the blinds and feel the shift in her mother’s energy. By the time they were 8, Flora stopped going to Mirta’s, but Mirta’s mother happily continued to bring Mirta over. As they grew up, they kept their friendship secret, not wanting to provoke the racists. It wasn’t as fun, but it was just easier that way.

Then, at some point, everything changed. They were growing into women and Flora began noticing how beautiful Mirta was. Dark red hair against alabaster skin and soft grey eyes, freckles that danced when she laughed, a soft raspy voice that gave Flora shivers and a heart so pure that Flora knew the world would be a much better place if everyone were like Mirta. It had taken two years for her to come to terms with the fact that she was in love with her best friend. Another year after that for Flora to confess it, fully aware that it would likely mean the end of her friendship with Mirta.  

Flora’d picked a night when Mirta would be sleeping over and her parents were out of town, caring for her grandmother after the old woman had taken a tumble. Flora just couldn’t lie about her feelings anymore. If Mirta stormed out, at least Flora wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout of her parents asking what had happened. She told herself that not having Mirta in her life would make it easier to get over the redhead. She just had to hope Mirta wouldn’t tell anyone.  

She hadn’t expected Mirta to kiss her or say she felt the same, but she had. Flora’s heart had burst with a joy she’d never felt before or since. They kissed some more on Flora’s bed until one thing led to another and they ended up spending the night together in the most intimate of ways, exploring each other’s bodies with such love and tenderness. It had been heaven. They moved out together at 21, a year after that fateful night, claiming they wanted to experience independence before ‘settling down’. It had been four years since that, and they still had no intentions of settling with any man. They were happy even if they had to hide themselves from everyone.  

Flora got off the bus and thanked the driver. It was two blocks from the bus stop to their apartment building. She unlocked the glass door at the main entrance and checked the mail before heading up the five flights of stairs to their floor. Someone was cooking something heavenly – her bet was on the old woman at the end of the hall. She was a widow and constantly baking and cooking the most delicious smelling things.  

Her path stopped at a plain brown door, apartment 503. The apartment she shared with the person she considered her true home. Flora tried to make herself presentable before she entered; flatten her hair a bit, adjust her shirt and skirt, check her lipstick and mascara. She’d had a rough day at work, she reminded herself when she saw the smudge of mascara under her eyes. She looked good enough. Besides, Mirta always thought she looked beautiful anyways.  

The aroma that surrounded her when she opened the door was unexpected. The fresh herbs and juicy chicken mixed with remnants of something citrusy and sweet was mouthwatering. Flora moved down the corridor, stopping to slip her heels off and drop her purse on the floor beside the shoes. Past the bedrooms, one of which they’d decorated as 'Flora’s’ in case they ever got visit, and washroom into the small kitchen.

Mirta stood in the middle of the powder blue room with its white cabinetry and the small blue fridge that Flora had been ecstatic to find on sale. Her short hair was pulled back into a tiny chignon at the nape of her neck and she wore a black blouse and purple skirt with a beautiful black flora detailing. Mirta loved to sneak floral prints into her outfits; she claimed it was her way of showing the world how much she loved Flora since she couldn’t actually show the world.  

On the other side of the kitchen was their round dining table. A bouquet of red roses rested on the center of the table in a glass vase surrounded by tall candles in gold holders that Flora didn’t remember them having. Along the sideboard was more candles creating a beautiful twinkling effect in the room that reminded her of a starry night. Rose petals swirled around the candles, popping brightly against the white sideboard.  

Flora walked over to the table and laid the bouquet she’d bought down beside the vase. As she took in the room, she felt hands circle her waist and a kiss land on her shoulder. “Happy anniversary, my darling” Mirta whispered. “I love you.”

Flora turned in Mirta’s grasp and wrapped her own arms around the redhead's neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Every single kiss felt like the first time, even five years later. Flora cherished every single one because she never knew when she would get the last kiss. She never wanted it to come, never wanted any of the kisses to end. Mirta broke away, smiling at the beauty in her arms as she rested her forehead against Flora’s. “I love you too” Flora told her, returning the smile. It was the sincerest smile she’d had all day; she never needed to fake anything with Mirta. Never had, never would. Years of friendship and love meant they knew each other inside out, and Flora never wanted that to change.  

[cpd5021]

How to Save a life...

Hello again! I’m back with another multi-chapter fic! I told myself I was going to finish writing this whole story before I posted it, but we all know I don’t have that kind of self control. So instead, here we are with chapter one of my music inspired fic. Long story short, I found an old iPod of mine with lots of old, somewhat angsty music and it led to me writing this fic. Worth noting is that teenage me was OBSESSED with the early season Grey’s Anatomy soundtracks, so if you’re familiar with them at all, you’ll quickly notice a theme. Anywhoo, this fic is going to be full of angst, just fyi. Eventual Upstead, but this starts out as a pretty Hailey centric fic. Although Jay will be right beside her every step of the way. Buckle up, she’s a long one. Here we go!

Chapter One:  

Where did I go wrong,

I lost a friend.

     A Tuesday morning that started like any other, except it was only my second day back from New York. Yesterday had been filled with paperwork, debriefings, an hour with Platt where I wasn’t really sure what was accomplished, and finally, an evening at Molly’s with the whole unit. It felt good to be back and I was already settling right back in, almost as if I had never left. Everyone had been excited to welcome me home and of course the teasing about me turning into a Fed ran rampant throughout the night. But I was home, with my people, and that’s all that mattered to me. I woke up early this morning, quickly showering in an attempt to rid myself of the remnants of last night's multiple rounds of tequila and popped two aspirin before I headed downstairs. I found Vanessa in the kitchen, her upper body sprawled across the counter as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing and the sight brought a smile to my face. She had celebrated my return probably harder than anyone and I had no doubt she was feeling it this morning. I made my way over to the cupboard just above her and rested my hand on her back as I grabbed two travel mugs from the shelf. She groaned in response before pushing herself back into a standing position, rubbing at her eyes before squinting at me in the dim morning light. 

“You know, I’m pretty sure I told you to stop after that third shot.”

I teased, filling each of the mugs. She groaned again, feigning annoyance at my words. 

“Yeah yeah, I was just happy you were back.”

She took the mug from my hand and moved to the table to grab her things. I followed after her, grabbing my phone and keys from their spot before heading out the door behind her. We climbed into my car and she immediately shifted the seat back slightly to recline herself, draping her jacket over her face to block the sunlight. 

“I’m pretty sure you would be more happy this morning if you had listened to me.”

I teased again, earning another groan and a middle finger. I laughed at the sight and started the car, shifting into gear and pointing us in the direction of the district. 

We made the journey to the 21st in what felt like record time, probably because I was happy to finally be making this drive again, and I found myself grinning once again as Vanessa rolled herself out of the passenger seat, grumbling as she made her way towards the building. A familiar voice sounded behind me as I followed after her and I turned to see Jay jogging to catch up with us. Vanessa didn’t stop, instead settling for a slight wave of her hand as she continued her way into the building. 

“She seems pleasant this morning.”

Jay nodded in her direction before looking down at me with a grin. He knew exactly how much she had drank last night and that she would be suffering today. 

“I told her she should have listened to me.”

I shrugged, starting my walk towards the building as Jay fell in step beside me.

“Ouch. You gave her an ‘I told you so’? Harsh.”

He grinned down at me as I playfully smacked his shoulder. Kevin and Adam lingered by the front door, with Adam looking about as rough as Vanessa and Kevin seeming just as amused. I pulled the door open and they all trailed in behind me, bantering as we made our way into the main lobby. Platt, sat at her perch and peering down at us as usual, snapped her paper closed as she saw us approach. 

“Well if it isn’t goldilocks and her three bears. Looking a little rough this morning…”

Her attention was on Adam who merely nodded her way, his sunglasses still settled firmly over his eyes. I sent a small smile towards Platt and then headed up the stairs, my three bears in tow. We filed into the bullpen, finding Vanessa already sat at her desk, digging for medicine in her drawers and I made my way over to my own desk, plopping onto my chair and wiggling the mouse to wake my computer up. I shrugged out of my coat, draping it on the chair behind me and went to log in to my emails before Voights gruff voice filled the office. 

“Upton. A word.”

He said before promptly turning back into his office. I exchanged a quick glance with Jay who sent me a shrug and a confused look before I walked into the office, shutting the door behind me. Voight could sometimes be a hard man to read, but his current body language with his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw set in a way that made me think he was holding something back, instantly had my nerves on edge. He nodded for me to sit down and I followed his lead, watching as he leaned forward in his own chair, resting his elbows on the desk and letting his head fall into his hands as he rubbed his temples. This wasn’t going to be good, I could already feel the pit growing in my stomach. We sat in silence for longer than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t want to be the first one to speak. 

“We have a problem.”

He spoke softly, rubbing at his chin while his eyes bore into mine. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that so I settled for a nod of my head, urging him to go on. 

“Gael got a real good lawyer. They found a flaw in his ‘open and closed’ case. Gael is being released, today.” 

His words hit me like a freight train. My body instantly went cold. Gael was the whole reason I was in New York, the lines I had crossed to put him in jail, risking my career and this unit's future...to learn that it had all been for nothing had my heart sinking. I wanted to argue, to yell that it wasn't fair and that he should never be let out, but I knew I didn’t really have a leg to stand on.

“That’s not the problem.”

Voight’s words threw me for a loop, how could that not be our problem? I tilted my head, sending him a confused look. 

“Word on the street is, Gael knows that the drugs were planted in his car by police and there’s a damn good chance he’s figured it out. Or thinks he’s figured it out.”

His nod towards Vanessa was subtle but enough to sink me even more.

“None of this is on her. She doesn’t even know.”

I shook my head, clenching my fists as my blood began to boil. 

“I know.”

He said calmly, in a way that angered me even more. 

“How are we going to get him off her back? We can’t let him get to her.”

I swallowed hard, my nostrils flaring as the emotions coursed through me. Voight leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest once again as his eyes never left mine. 

“We start by clueing her in to the whole story.”

Everything in me screamed at the idea. Not only would that put her job in danger, it would crush her to know what I had done. I couldn’t stand the thought but couldn’t see another way. Voight watched the range of emotions play out on my face before he stood from his chair, pulling his office door open just enough to call for Vanessa. I wanted to turn to look at Jay, to have him somehow tell me this wasn’t all my fault, even though it was and I knew it, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn around. I heard Vanessa shuffle into the room, closing the door behind herself and instantly sitting down beside me. I couldn’t look at her either, even though her eyes were boring into the side of my face before darting to Voight and back. 

“Vanessa, we need to explain something to you so we can figure out our next steps.”

Voight spoke, drawing her attention away from me for just a moment before her eyes quickly returned to me. 

“Next steps for what?”

She asked, sounding genuinely confused, her stare only increasing. I couldn’t look at her, I was barely holding it together as is and I knew if I saw her face when she heard the news that I would crumble. I furiously blinked away the tears that threatened to gather in my eyes, hoping she wouldn’t notice. But under her intense look, of course she noticed. Her hand came to rest softly on my forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze and causing me to have to swallow hard as my throat began to burn with tears. 

“Gael is being released from prison. His lawyer found a loophole and his case is being thrown out.”

Voight began, his words confusing her even more and her gaze finally shifted to him, her hand never leaving my arm. 

“So what? We need to go after him again? Build another case?”

She asked, instantly shifting into cop mode, a fact that would have normally made me smile with pride at the officer she was becoming. But instead it only made my heart sink more. 

“No. We won’t be doing anything. Other than keeping you safe.”

At his statement, I quickly closed my eyes as I felt wetness gather there, knowing they would spill at any moment.

“Me? Sarge, I don’t understand…”

I knew she was looking at me again but I kept my eyes clamped shut, waiting for him to drop the bomb. 

“Gael somehow knows that the drugs they found in his car were planted there by police. He knows you were personally tied to the case so he’s linking you to this whole situation.”

Her grip on my arm tightened and when she spoke I could hear some fear trickle into her voice.

“Sarge, I didn’t...I would never.”

She stammered, trying in vain to prove her innocence. 

“I know it wasn’t you.”

He said softly, trying to reassure her. The room fell silent for a moment and I could practically feel her putting two and two together. Her grip on my arm faltered slightly and I finally forced myself to open my eyes, still avoiding meeting hers. 

“Hailey…”

It came out as a mixture of a question and a statement. She wasn’t stupid and had instantly realized what had occured, but I knew she was having a hard time believing it. I couldn’t respond, I didn’t know what to say to explain myself. I had never meant to cause any issues, I just wanted to get a bad man off the streets and if that meant helping out a friend in the meantime then so be it. I had never in a million years expected this to blow up and I had really hoped after my stint in New York I would be able to put this all behind me. 

“Vanessa we’re going to have you lay low until we can figure out a plan. We might be able to set another case up to get him put away, but it’s going to have to be by the book. Gael’s not stupid and if we come at him again he’s going to fight back.” 

She nodded at Voight’s instructions but her eyes were once again glued to the side of my head. I swallowed hard and pushed myself to meet her gaze, seeing a mix of anger and hurt behind her eyes once they reached mine. 

“Why would you...how could you?”

She stammered out her words, shaking her head slightly as if still in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry Vanessa..I just thought-”

She cut me off before I could continue, standing abruptly from her spot beside me. 

“No. You didn’t think. That’s the problem.”

And with that she stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind her. I stayed firmly planted in my seat, reeling from the blow I had just received. It had been well deserved but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“I’ll have you grounded here too until we can figure this out. I don’t want you anywhere near this case, is that clear?”

He asked, waiting for me to make eye contact to assure I was listening. 

“Yes sir.”

I all but whispered, my voice thick with emotion. I stood then and slowly pulled the door open, immediately turning down the hall towards the locker room before anyone could see my face. I stormed all the way to the back, towards where the bathroom stalls were and briefly debated locking myself inside to fall apart. But I knew if I let myself do that then I would have a hard time coming back out. Instead, I headed towards the sink, running the cool water and splashing some on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt disgusted with the person looking back. How could I have let this happen, how could I have done this, crossed these lines and put everyone at risk. It made me feel sick. Just as I was drying my face off with a paper towel, I heard footsteps come up behind me and turned to find Jay standing there, looking concerned. 

“Everything okay?”

He asked, taking another step closer. I tried my best to put a smile on my face but I knew he would see right through me.

“Nope. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

I waved my hands up in frustration, feeling the emotions once again gather at the back of my throat. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

He asked, his voice genuine and filled with care. I couldn’t handle this right now. I couldn’t handle Jay being Jay and looking at me like I couldn’t do anything wrong. He knew the story, I had told him the night Voight sent me away. I figured I at least owed him an explanation before I disappeared off to New York. But I had hoped it would be the last time we had ever talked about it. I shook my head, dipping my head slightly before sending him an empty smile. 

“No. This doesn’t involve you and I’m not bringing any more people into it.”

With that, I brushed past him, ignoring the way his face displayed some hurt from my words, and made my way back out into the bullpen. 

     Only a short while after I had settled into my desk, aimlessly scrolling through emails I wasn’t actually reading and ignoring the concerned looks from Jay, Voight came out of his office. 

“Alright listen up, we have a case. Rojas and Upton, I’m pulling you. I want you two to go sort through some case files Platt left downstairs. Stay put until I tell you otherwise. I stood from my desk immediately, warding off all the looks being sent my way as I rushed from the room. I could hear Vanessa right behind me but didn’t dare turn to face her. We entered the rollup, finding a stack of boxes on a table in the corner and settled into our task silently. I didn’t know what to say to her to fix this, I didn’t want to upset her more or push her further away. After a while though, I couldn’t stand the silence any more. 

“Can I explain?”

I asked quietly, hoping she wouldn’t immediately shut me out. 

“I don’t think you need to. I know you well enough to know what happened Hailey, I just can’t believe it.”

Her words were cold and harsh. My throat felt tight once again. 

“I only did what-”

I started, only to be cut off with a raise of her hand.

“I know what you did. And why. You planted the drugs to get him the deal, for me. You jeopardized your career, all of our careers, for me? I guess I should be honored or something. But Hailey, you could have been fired. Or worse, sent to jail. And then the whole time you’re in New York I was over here thinking you’ve been given this amazing opportunity because you’re just that good...and it was really just a punishment? Over something that could have ruined all of us? I just...I don’t get it.”

Before I had the chance to reply, she stood angrily from her perch beside the table and stormed out of the room. I hesitated for a moment before I slowly followed after her. I made it all the way up the stairs,  my eyes scanning the empty bullpen for her when I spotted her small frame hovering over Kevin’s computer. Her eyes darted to mine for a moment before she jogged past me, heading back down the stairs into the roll up. I wanted to follow her again but the look on her face had me curious as to what she had found on Kevin’s computer. I rounded his desk quickly, looking at the screen which held a pinged address, the name under the small picture of a building read Gael and my heart sank. Not only was my unit headed there for who knows what, but I had no doubt that Vanessa intended to follow them. I turned and raced down the stairs, hoping to catch her before it was too late. Luckily, Vanessa didn’t have a car of her own and leaving with a UC or patrol car would require her to check in with Platt whom I’m sure was all too familiar with our grounding. I found her lingering by the side door, looking panicked as she considered her limited options. Her eyes met mine once again and I saw a determination within them that frightened me.

“Vanessa...you can’t.”

She let out a cold laugh, shaking her head as she looked at me.

“So now you wanna stick to the rules?”

She challenged, making my blood boil just a bit. 

“Yeah, I do. I already messed this up enough. We sit tight. They have this.”

I tried to reason with her, while at the same time talking myself down from racing out the door and doing the same thing she wanted too. The look on her face told me she was leaving one way or another and I wasn’t going to win this battle. 

     I knew the repercussions of what we were doing was liable to get us both in some hot water, but that didn’t stop me from pulling my car up behind Jay’s truck and shutting it off. Vanessa immediately jumped out, with me hot on her heels. The team was nowhere in sight and I assumed they were all inside the large warehouse, I just didn’t know how long they had been there. I followed closely behind her, trying to quietly draw her attention to the fact that we couldn’t just barge in without the risk of our own unit shooting us down. But Vanessa was on a mission and my words never reached her ears. She found a door at the back of the building and pushed her way inside. I drew my gun, blindly following behind her into the dimly lit room. We travelled down a hallway that ended with a flight of metal stairs leading up to a second level and without hesitation she was climbing up them at a rapid pace. I followed behind, pausing when a step protested loudly under my weight and when I looked back up she had disappeared from view. I took a few more steps before I heard footsteps behind me, I turned just as a beam of light hit my face. When the light lowered I was met with Jay’s eyes looking confused and angry at my presence. 

“I could have shot you! What are you doing here?”

He hissed, closing the distance between us. 

“Vanessa.”

I nodded up the stairs, letting him know I wasn’t alone in this awful idea. His jaw clenched as he followed my nod, before we quickly made our way up the steps. As we cleared the landing, voices sounded from down the hall. I heard Vanessa’s voice, trying to reason with whoever she was talking to. My heart sank when a man responded and I recognized the voice as Gael’s. My eyes shifted back to Jay’s, sharing a look of panic before we made our way down the hall, guns drawn. Just as we approached the doorway where the other two were, I heard Vanessa’s voice again.

“No!”

She screamed, seconds before a gunshot sounded from the room. Jay whipped into the room, instantly firing off two shots of his own. I rounded the frame just behind him and felt my body go ice cold as I took in the sight before me. My body moved on autopilot as I raced to her side, her body limp on the ground as a pool of blood rose from her chest. My hands pressed into the blood, trying in vain to stop the flow but I could feel it rushing out around my fingers. Her face was pale as she looked up at me with a terrified expression and my world closed in around me as I watched the life begin to fade from her eyes.

[handlewcaare]

art by: kajuhz

The concept of Justice was a profit.

Oftentimes would Beaut replay the scene in his head. Not the ones in which he would portray the handsome knight or the chivalrous prince, but of his own savior; he who was bestowed a graceful light atop of his crown. His physique but a mountain compared to Beaut’s shuddering frame, cowardly under what he assumed to be his final hour.

“It’s fine now.”

The baritone resounded as divine as cathedral bells. A voluminous tone that held no wry contempt of what monster curled in front of him. There was no rehearsed spiel of what justice was, but it left Beaut to determine his own interpretation of it in his stunned awe.

Many would have called justice a caped Crusader, many would have called it a quivering hand that held the knife they used to impale their abuser, many would have called it the rope that suspended the guillotine’s blade. In the end, it was but a trophy to be won over the carcasses of villains Beaut would periodically encounter.

Justice was as fine as wine in his perception. It was the promise of dictating who would be fit to surpass him in the top of the A-Class threshold, it was the champagne dinners he would hold at every New Years or the awards he would win in for a role he partook when the hours were slow. It was not a gruesome lifestyle, outside of what brutality he enacted upon his villains, but it was profitable.

Until it came along.

It coming in the form of a walking cadaver draped in an old beige coat that was rancid with nicotine and whatever disease it caught this week. It’s shoulders were hunched and it never enacted in a spatting match reserved between Tatsumaki and Metal Bat. Rather, it kept to itself and only periodically placed its input in a phantasmic and haunting tone. Ironically, it ran a detective agency down in F-city and was quite renowned for its capabilities. However, what irritated him most was not because it’s regeneration, not in truth anyways.

“Why wasn’t I notified about his recruitment?”

It was often that the H.A. would negate Beaut about new recruits, especially one whom had made headlines about his week-long war with a conflagrant dullahan Griffin. Though, the sole purpose of his presence at the threshold of A-Class was to prevent lesser men to weasel their way without proving their worth. He knew that Kamikaze’s disciples attempted to do so numerous times with their false valor.

“Well, he has a high amount of endurance,” Sitch clarified. The portly man hastily patted his temple with a handkerchief. Without a doubt, Amai knew how to intensify the ambiance with but the sneer of his tawny glare. “Not just that, but I don’t think he’s human—“

When veins bloomed at the nape of the idol’s neck, Sitch hastily continued, “our intern, Iwaizawa, tried to recruit him the first time and his wounds healed while he refused. Poor man was horrified when his arm just fell off and grew another one.”

Regeneration was nothing of a unique feat, but it was one in which Amai specialized in. Clean cuts to his appendages often wrought nonchalance when he secured it back on. The muscle fibers would make haste to keep his tendons and bone secure. The carbon of his skin would shatter into a spiderweb fracture, but it would never quake under the pressure. Yet, he could only find offense that they would insinuate his was not just as good—if not, better.

“And like I can’t?” He could probably do so while performing a live concert.

“He survived numerous injuries; burns, teeth, claws—the whole nine yards—he didn’t stop walking either.”

If there was anything Amai was, he could be rational at times. His lip nearly turned stiff with a grimace, though the aspect of someone possessing a similar ability than him was enough to curdle his stomach. It was a hideous, warped perception of himself that he faced; the Beaut he was prior to his body enduring so much stress that it became a diamond. Who gave this thing the audacity to be the very thing he couldn’t withstand?

He felt his blood curdle in private rage, though he knew better than to lash out at someone who could potentially hinder his reputation. Tabloids would shrill about his monstrous temper and equate him to nothing but another Terrible hero; a spoiled brat who should have been proud of the golden spoon in his mouth.

He would have told them his spoon was spray painted, but that was too worthy of a risk.

“I want to interview him,” Amai said as he briskly stood up from his seat and collected his pristine coat, his voice stiff to bottle up his frustration. “If he’s abnormal, I want to make sure he doesn’t have ill-intentions.”

“I... highly doubt he would,” the reluctance to correct Amai was prevelant, as he was the reason they were even able to make a fortune off the expense of strong heroes with exaggerated sob stories. “He refused to enlist initially.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants you to think.” Something evoked the creature to come back, be it that someone fed it on their porch or gave it a promise didn’t matter. It was worthy of an investigative welcome.

——————————

Hounding after the cryptic amidst F-City was hardly an issue. What with the newest talk circulating the nicknamed ‘deadman detective agency’ and tourists seizing photo opportunities, Amai could only wonder what made it worthy for the city to nestle the gemstone close to its chest.

Was it being a little hole in the wall? Was it the fact that it held some nostalgia to the Griffin’s demise? He didn’t particularly care either way, other than it lived in an absolute shithole. The windows were makeshift plastered with wood and duct tape.

Not an environment he would imagine himself being in, but it was better than visiting Puri Puri Prisoner.

Knocking on the door only fueled his muted irritation. What he was greeted with was a pallid being, one who barely looked passable for an anemic. Along its lips balanced an unlit cigarette and his gaze flickered briefly to the branching sutures underneath its clavicles. The aroma it carried however was rancid, vile nicotine and ink seemed to manifest itself through the partially opened maw of the door.

For a moment, Amai brought a knuckle to clog one of his nostrils discreetly, “hello,” his Hollywood smile couldn’t have been anymore amiable than it was. His smiling equanimity easily masquerading his suppressed resentment, “I wanted to say congratulations on passing your Heroes Entrance exam.”

One could weigh the loss of interest along the creature’s stern countenance, “usually, I am involved in the recruitment process. However, I was a bit busy and I missed my opportunity to get to ask you a few questions.

“My name is Handsome Kaimen Amai Mask,” he informed as he extended a hand for the cryptid to take, “you can just call me Amai Mask.”

It was glacial, the way the detective’s hand clasped his. There was not a semblance of rough, course callouses or warmth to radiate under the skin. He shuddered under the grasp that could only be best described as rigormortis. What it lacked in conversational pieces, it compensated for in its uncanny valley of humility. He supposed not all monsters slammed their doors in people’s faces.

“It’s nice to meet you, Amai Mask,” it’s phantasmic murmur was reserved to the spirit that haunted its shell; a conch that knew too many secrets. When Amai withdrew, he felt the itching need to investigate whether he was as humble as he appeared to be. If he truly did do investigative work for the good of others and not himself.

“I would like to talk to you privately,” he said, “after all, your thoughts are very important to hear.” They weren’t, not even the H.A. Could deny that blatant fact.

The reluctance in It’s pause was also uncanny (he could never fathom why there was always a hint of hesitation with him), however the carcass gradually complied by opening the barely stable door wholly open. “Leave your shoes by the door, if you don’t mind?”

He could feel his gums bleed under his clenched teeth, only releasing them when he cheerily complied. “Not at all.”

————————————————

The office was illuminated by a single bulb. It’s jewelry but the rotating fans above and a single chain within length to pull. The interior wasn’t much in the way of impression, as half of it was hastily constructed.

Tarp laid sprawled over one side of the office, only being held down by a jar of plaster for the jagged trauma across the masonries. If that wasn’t enough of an indication there was a skirmish, the creature’s desk was haphazardly concocted with duct tape and splintered wood. The remnants of burnt petals remained prominent under the sprawled files of evidence.

Along one (partially) unblemished wall was the map of F-City’s tri-state area. Polaroids pinned to each segment as they caressed scrawled notes pertaining to specific cases. Few even had a red string connected to one another.

“You really are a detective, huh?” The idol mused as he gingerly laid his coat atop of one of the chair cushions—the one that wasn’t nearly as collapsible as the other—before he sat down, “I assumed it was just part of the aesthetic.”

“Old habits die hard,” the walking cadaver remarked. The way it settled into the seat in front of Amai reminded him of something of an old soul. Its sigh fluttered when it leaned back, “though, I can’t say I’ve done much investigation work nowadays.”

“It’s a nice hobby to have,” he didn’t want to stay too past his curfew however, especially if this reanimated corpse wouldn’t want to talk shop. Fortune came in toast master’s, “what are your thoughts on the exam? Was it too difficult?”

“Do you want my honest answer or the one you want to hear?” It asked as it flicked the lighter to ignite the end of It’s cigarette. The sizzle of tobacco and paper evoked a hint of irritation that Amai’s vocal chords were not taken into consideration.

“Preferably both,” it was unbearable the way it implored. If it was an attempt to get on his good side, it was certainly a poor one.

An eventual drag from Zombieman’s cigarette accented his robust quip, “it was stupidly easy,” he said, “though I dunno why you have questions about traffic safety.”

It was a typical query, aside from the essay questions many heroes skimmed past with a few haphazard answers. The idol simply crossed his knee over his leg, “we had a lower rank lose his lisence,” he elucidated, “ironically, he passed the exam with flying colors.”

Whether he spoke too much or there was too much perception in that thing’s brain, it raised a brow, “and why isn’t he in S-Class if he’s lower rank?”

“He’s simply not strong enough to surpass me,” he was rather pathetic in all honesty. Save for his valiant speeches and his ability to look for lesser people, the C-Rank gatekeeper wasn’t much to write home about. “If I’m being honest with you, very few people manage to get into S-Class.”

At that moment, Amai knew it wasn’t the same as the others; there was no petulant demand for higher paychecks or an un breakable instrument. It was a blind gamble he didn’t anticipate for something that looked like it could find more entertainment staring blankly ahead.

“—and you’re telling me that a ten year old is physically stronger than an adult man?” The Zombieman didn’t bother to suppress his snarl this time. His lip curled underneath the plumb of smoke, “that’s bullshit.”

“No, but he’s not physically stronger than me,” Amai clarified once more. It wasn’t in the matter of everyone else, but of whether he deemed them worthy to surpass him in rank. He felt his brow twitch when the rancid odor of nicotine whisped as dangerous as a threat. Fortunately, his furor could only bubble a laugh, “What, would you prefer us to hire podcasters to try and placate a rampaging bull from killing civilians?”

“I dunno,” the horrible cardboard cutout of a detective said as its russet glare punctured through Amai’s tawny ones, “you seem to like the sound of your own voice pretty well.”

The hospitable charade melted from the heat of his aggrevation. Hot wax of a pristine neighbor dribbled off the exposed veins along his nape and down his chest, “excuse me?”

“In one of your interviews,” oh, it knew him already, “you said that justice isn’t something wholly to a hero, that everyone has their part somehow,” it never once deviated its intrusion to the far corridors of Amai’s glare. It was dauntless, especially when it knew that his neck and shoulders began to grow slightly larger. Yet, it talked as passive as it would in front of a criminal; as if it had the right to accuse him of anything.

“Here you are, however, saying that someone needs to be beyond average in order to be adequate for saving people. Be it that they’re a kid with a high IQ, an angry jock or a chaotic pixie,” the detective paused as it obstinately clenched it’s cold hand around the partially finished cigarette. The fire snuffed out without a protesting burn to it’s skin, “makes me wonder what you’re hiding if you’re only letting ‘strange’ people in.”

Should Amai be allowed to be Beaut once more, he would have never been accepted in. Beneath the masquerade of a teen girl’s fantasy was a hulking, grotesque beast who could only watch the rose petals wilt from the outside. It was as if this thing, this abomination, was aware of that. As he abruptly stood from his seat, he felt his gloved hands clench at their sides.

“If you want to be kicked out from the S-Class, I can make it happen,” the threat did nothing to provoke the pathetic punching bag out of his seat. Rather, it only prompted him to scoff a scalding hand to rub more salt into Amai’s wound, “my regeneration can best your’s. If you really want a satisfying exam, I am more than happy to oblige.”

Eventually, the mild irritation that highlighted the creature’s glare subsided for a slight revelation. What one would have envisioned to be a skirmish only halted midway when it stated something of a reflection to his dare.

“You’re projecting.”

What?

The incredulous look that stained his handsome features only prompted the thing to resume casually, “you’re projecting. You didn’t come here for a warm welcome; mentioning strength, the regeneration, what justice means.

“if I join a pop idol group, that just about ticks off all your boxes, doesn’t it?”

Being relevant was what rusted justice. In an instant, Amai seized ahold of It’s neck, its skin nothing but cold rubber under the pads of his fingertips. There was not a pulse to drum, not even when the harbinger of beautiful reckoning sneered. His eyes wide as they attempted to search wildly for a semblance of absent fear.

What he didn’t comprehend was that there was a barrel nestled close to his sternum in the same movement. Just as he would try his hand on how effective this monster’s regeneration was, he snapped out of his blind haze when there was a subtle knock to rap along the office door.

“Mr. Zombieman?” The voice was small, a little too petite to be a woman’s, “it’s me, Dr. Hajime, can I come in?”

It was a gamble neither wanted to try their hand in. For one that it would have gotten Hajime involved and the other was that it was a sure fire way to have Amai Mask’s reputation be tarnished. What reality of him being the harbinger of rightful justice would have dispersed by his own lack of control. He would have been no better than the monsters he hunted.

As the two reluctantly withdrew, the detective made no attempt to mouth “get out” at the sneering idol.

When prohibited to enter, Child Emperor’s eyes bloomed in awe when he discovered Amai Mask simply retrieving his coat from the chair, “oh-!” The boy squeaked, his shoulders jolted and there was a tighter hold along the tiny trey of chocolate cake, “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” the detective said. Had Amai not known better, he would have assumed it could actually smile, “what’s the cake for?”

“I just thought we should celebrate you getting in and all!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t stay to listen to their futile conversation.

—————————————

Relevance rusted Justice.

As Amai skulked away to leave the two be, he could only glower at how the creature allowed Child Emperor to join him. His lip turned stiff at the revelation that there was hardly any private celebration he would have. It was never homely, but a grandiose party with strangers who didn’t know him by Beaut.

He’s a stupid kid.

No, Dr. Hajime is actually quite brilliant. It was his counterpart, his pseudo-father figure that was the idiot. To insinuate that he would even bother projecting his envy on the likes of some insolent vigilante was something worthy to laugh at.

When he meandered home into his mansion, there was no one other than himself to occupy the space; no one with a cake or to press a kiss along his cheek in greeting. His phone would blow up with useless messages and notifications from strangers, but it wasn’t warm. It was as cold as the handshake he had.

He didn’t bother to change out of his clothes when he went to bed.

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Don’t Breathe 4.5 | teaser

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of potential Stockholm syndrome, mono-phobia, mature elements, yandere at some point (? i think ), themes of depression, redemption, they fall in love, lovey dovey, fluff, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is purely fiction ok.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt.4.5

author’s note: coming soon

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms @komorebi-unnie​ @tangledsparkles​ @yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) if you’d like to be added to the taglist please comment on this post💜

The sun is setting like a dream, you can’t say you’ve ever seen it shine so beautiful. The sky looks like a peach painting that shyly fades into a heavenly deep-blue. It’s a perfect evening, the air smells of the flowers growing on the porch and it delights your senses. He’s chasing you barefooted across the grassy yard, like two children playing tag at the peek of spring. Out of breath, he finally catches you and you fall back into the checkered blanket, too tired to run off again.

After seeing you enjoy the balcony so much, he introduced you to his lavish  backyard. Aside from the large stone patio and pool attached to it, the yard expands at least an acre and it’s well-groomed. Early in the evening, you moved to spend some time on the patio, a pencil and paper in hand. Taehyung had some work to do so you had a few hours to yourself, you used that time to think and write. After a few hours, you could no longer resist the urge to take a dip in the crystal clear oasis.

With a t-shirt and underwear, you eased into the cool water and breathed a sigh of relief. For what could have been an hour or two, you weren’t counting, you swam on your back, staring up at the clear sky, wondering if you’ll ever feel peace like this again. When your eyes shut, your thoughts seem to align, and for the first time since you’ve been here, you felt like you were where you were supposed to be. As much as you cherish your life alone, your independence and innate desire to prove that you can make it on your own—it seems Taehyung is worth giving that up.

That would have sounded crazy weeks ago, but it’s how you feel. That night that you confessed that you wanted to be with him, you meant it. You don’t know when it happened, maybe when you kissed him and he picked you up, when you woke up to him fast asleep with a pillow in his arms. Or maybe it was when he suggested you help him bake, since he knew you wrote so much about food in your articles, you’re not sure. But somehow, some time after learning his name, you think you fell in love.

When you were with Jin, you had similar feelings to this. You knew you were in love when you had the urge to smile even when you were hurting just to make him smile. That feeling of unexplained self-sacrifice, something as small as smile, you’d force it out if you knew it would help him. With Taehyung, it seems like he will do anything to make you smile sometimes, even when you know he’s keeping stressful things from you. Is that love? You think so.

You sigh, still feeling a bit wet from your swim a while ago but you’ve dried mostly. He fussed at you for not showering straight away but you said the sun would dry you well enough until your shower tonight. It’s dusk now, and your out in the grass, laying happily on the blanket with him. Only a few minutes ago did you find out that he had pretty lights adorning the patio. He said he’s had them for a while but hadn’t turned them on until today. It casts a warm light out into the grass, you tell him he should turn it on more often.

”You should shower before you catch a cold,” He stresses for the second time. You find his worry endearing but negotiate five more minutes, and he caves. It’s been a while since you’ve been outside like this. He knows this, that’s why he’s laying shoulder to shoulder with you as you gaze up at the night sky. “Sorry I had so much work I had to do today, hope you weren’t too bored,”

”It’s fine, I was writing anyway...”

”Really?” He turns on his side, curiosity piqued. You nod, hands searching for the pencil and pad you had on the blanket.

”I used to write poetry when I was in high school. I wasn’t very good and some of it is kind of cringe now that I look back at it, but I enjoyed it. I haven’t written in so long, I thought I’d give it a shot,” You grab the notepad and look up at it, eyes skimming over the gray hue from all the erasing. You catch him trying to peek over and you hold it to your test. You grin, “Don’t look, it’s not good,”

He pouts, hand moving to intertwine with yours.

“Come on, you’ve never shared your personal writings with me before,” He pouts, leaning closer to you in hopes that you might succumb to the allure of his gaze. “Pleeease?”

”Fine,” You sigh, “but you have to read it yourself,” You lift the notepad, handing it to him.

He sits up and the feeling of anxiousness comes to a halt when you realize one important fact; it’s Taehyung reading this. Not a supervisor critiquing your rough draft or a teacher judging your ability to recite your understanding of the class’s latest assignment. It’s him.

I’ve been given a universe, all for me. My very own stars in your eyes, I can stare at you forever. The remnants of your every gaze births a galaxy and I draw up the constellations by the reminisce of the pattern of your touch on my skin. I, too, have given my universe to you. Though I’m innocent to the stars in my eyes, the constellations I paint on your skin, all for you. No event is there more beautiful than the moment our eyes meet, our nebulae collide. A merging occurs, giving life to new stars that are our own, creating a galaxy that holds a shape that can only be defined by fate. In that sweet moment, we create an intertwined constellation, a design filled with millions of our old and new stars, shining brighter than ever,

“in your universe, my universe...” He reads the last lines softly. Setting the pad down with an expression that you can’t quite read, he just looks at you and you start to feel nervous.

“I just,” You bite at your lip and look up at the night sky that’s beginning to show the stars, “I had this idea about space, it’s a little different but it took me hours to come up with...I’m rusty.”

He props himself up and leans over you, gaze searching for yours with a tender close-lipped smile. He holds his hand to his heart, “That was so beautiful.”

You cringe, pushing his chest so he can roll back on his back. “Oh stop, now I wish I wouldn’t have showed you,” It’s hard to tell if he’s praising you or teasing, it seems like it’s one in the same sometime.

“I’m being serious, I can feel the emotions you’re conveying in your words, I really get it...” He looks a bit surprised that you’d think he was teasing you about this, he leans back over you. 

“You mean it?” You look into his eyes, wondering how anyone could be capable of making you feel so special, like you’re the only person in the world. Without a word, he presses a firm kiss to your lips and you sigh, he means it.

*  *  *

“How’s the investigation going? Jin told me you reached out the other day,”

The busy lawyer sits his freshly ordered coffee in his cup holder as he drives off to his highly-decorated firm.

“I did, the case is more complicated than I initially thought,” Yoongi poured the subpar coffee in the Styrofoam cup, it’s 6am and he’s trying not to be grumpy, “if I’m right about my suspicions, it’s a fucked up situation.”

“What’re you thinking?”

Yoongi looks around, seeing that the only person around was the woman at the desk. “The girl, along with the other individuals at that conference, were targeted. I got the names of the parties at the conference, they’re politicians of course but the details of the meeting was never released. I have a theory,”

He lowers his voice, looking around one more time before sipping his coffee, “I think someone at that conference had those other reporters killed. I went over each autopsy file and those people died from unusual things, but not unusual enough to suspect at first-glance. Most of them dies from too much of a medication that they were already taking, things like that. But this girl, unlike everyone else, she was abducted and I don’t know why.”

Jungkook makes a thoughtful noises. “What’s different about her that not like the others?”

“She went missing a little over a month after the others were found dead. It looks like a mistake to me,” He paces, “I don’t know if I’m being too outlandish, but I have a feeling she’s alive, we just need to find her,”

Jungkook responds with how he feels about it but Yoongi has to cut him short when Eunwoo walks into the station.

“You’re here early, Min,” Eunwoo smiles, beckoning Yoongi to follow him to his office, “I have some good news, and some bad news, which do you want first?” Eunwoo leads Yoongi into his office and sets his briefcase down so he can pull what he needs out.

“Surprise me.” He deadpans.

“Well, last night, we found out that the infamous Hwan Group could be apart of this. You know that group, they’ve been under the radar for years, you can’t catch’em. But there’s a chance they could be the force behind this, they have assassins for hire from what I’ve heard,” He takes a seat, opening one of the Manila folders.

“And the good news?”

“It took a lot to pin him, but we’re bring one of the parties in for questioning today,”

“Good, I think they know something that they’ve been trying to keep under the rug.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

Yoongi gets up, hand tight on the flimsy cup, “If you could give me a call after the questioning, I’d appreciate it. I’m gonna do a little digging into this Hwan Group, see if I can get some info that’ll help,”

Yoongi leaves the building with a to-do list but little does he know, detective Na Jaemin, knocking on on Eunwoo’s door.

“Come in,”

“Hi,” Jaemin slips into the room, an unusual grin on his face, “how are you?”

“Um,” Eunwoo looks around, not understanding why he’s approaching him like this but he shrugs, “good, is everything okay, detective?”

“Everything's fine,” Lies, “I just had a question about that PI, Min Yoongi,”

“Shoot,” Eunwoo awaits his question.

“Why is he so adamant on keeping this case open? I mean, I’m a detective on the case and I think we should start searching for the body,” His tone sounds innocent but he’s trying to sneakily plant this idea in Eunwoo’s mind, “we could be wasting precious time, the family deserves closure and we’re just dragging it on.”

“Detective Na,” Eunwoo stops looking through the folder, “given the other related cases, we have reason to believe she might be alive. Not every abductee is killed, even if that tends to be the case.”

Jeamin swallows, trying to think of how to save himself, “I know, I’m not saying that we should be pessimistic but realistic, rather.”

“I get what you’re saying, but on what prescient you’re saying it, I don’t know. I, and many of the others on this case, have reviewed the evidence and compared it to the other cases, it doesn’t add up. After the questioning today, we’ll talk, until then, your efforts need to go towards finding her alive and well,” Eunwoo walks past Jaemin and the detective gets the memo to get out of the office, “Understood?”

With a feigned grin he stands up straight. “Absolutely, sir,”