#police academy Series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitten4sannie · 2 months ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝟏 - 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞

pairing: mafia! ot8 x undercover officer! reader (fem)

genre: mafia/organized crime au, drama, angst

w.c: 3.3k

ch. summary: after countless months of preparation and ensuing anxiety, you finally revisit the infamous Black Pirates, but from the other side of the law, and it’s almost as if you’ve never left.

ch. warnings: not too many….uhhh very light depictions of violence, a bit of blood, a bit of manhandling (not the sexy kind), mingi is unhinged (?) and has a gun lmao, no smut this time but just you waittttt

a/n: hi thereeeee i cannot tell you how excited i am to share this with you all 🥹 this is my first mini series and i’ve never tackled anything this big before so please be patient with me when it comes to updates~~ (also this chapter will be the shortest of them all given it’s the intro hehe) but aaaaaaa i’m so happy we can go on this journey together >w< now sit back, relax, and enjoy ~ and if you like, please pleasee share your thoughts and feedback with me <33

song rec: scene 1 - value ~ ateez, concrete jungle ~ bad omens

fic masterlist

“Are you ready for this?”

All you could hear was your heart thumping inside your ears, unable to focus on your Commander in Chief’s loaded question, tuning into the sounds of keyboard tapping and faceless chattering about the current crimes and cases that were plugging up the figurative drain of your local prescient, rather than what he was saying to you. Were you ready to infiltrate one of the most prevalent crime families your law enforcement agency has come to know and loathe over the better part of the year? Not as their friend, but this time, as an enemy? They had half your city in the palm of their hands and were itching to take it over, pushing the drug and gun trade into overdrive, washing countless loads of dirty dollar bills, and in turn, leaving you and your agency to clean up the mess they left behind — and what a mess they always made. Bullets, bodies, and broken dreams. Crime and punishment. Officers, regulations, and yellow tape. An endless game of chess that nobody ever seemed to win. The perpetrators of this game, their faces never left your mind, etching their likeness inside the grooves of your memory even after being away from them all for so long, at least, until now — if you stopped being such a goddamn pussy and answered your boss.

“Y/N…? You can back out if you need to…” He gave you an apologetic smile. “Given your history, I know it might be a lot on you. We can always put somebody else in instead.”

“No..!” you suddenly protested, bringing a closed fist near your mouth as you forcefully cleared your throat. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been preparing myself for this since you helped me…change course and join the academy.” Realizing you were digging your nails into your palms, you relaxed your grip, leaving red idents behind. “And, of course, when we realized what the Kim Estate was actually doing behind closed doors.”

“It certainly wasn’t tennis,” the seasoned man chuckled softly, leaning back slightly inside his fraying office chair, rubbing at his eyes from underneath his reading glasses, not aware of how prominent his eye bags were becoming. He let out a small sigh. “Y/N, I have a lot of trust in you. Going back into that world as an undercover operative is not a walk in the park under any circumstances, but this…they have proven to be unpredictable. I’ll ask you once more. Are you sure you can handle this case?”

In all honesty, you were never too sure what you could handle, both in your professional and personal life, but the uncertainty never stopped you from diving in headfirst. And this, this case, being one of the dominos that would knock them all down, well…it was simply too delicious to pass up.

You stood up, bowing your head to your superior, before giving him a knowing nod. “I’m ready, sir.”

Your closest friend back in your police academy days and fellow undercover partner, Yeonjun, was the first person you spotted upon exiting your boss’ office, well, specifically his bright red hair, slowly navigating past the maze of desks and whispering coworkers to make it over to him, privy to the looks some of them gave you as you slipped past them — though it didn’t phase you anymore. Your past did not define you. At least, that’s what your therapist had been telling you the past few years.

“Hey, partner,” Yeonjun greeted you with a smile, reaching out to hand you a paper cup full of freshly steeped coffee, leaning back to sit down on the crowded surface of his desk. “Tomorrow’s the big day. You ready?”

You took the steaming cup, your jaw tensing as the bitter liquid hit your tastebuds. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Choi.” You always thought of someone else when you uttered that surname. He was the complete opposite of your partner here: calm and collected, soulless when he wanted to be and full of love the very next moment, erratically ticking between the two like a malfunctioning metronome. You hated him for it.

“Hey, it’s just Yeon, now. Come tomorrow, I won’t be my normal sexy self.” He pulled his freshly printed fake ID out of his t-shirt pocket and held it up to your face, replicating the toothy smile he had inside the picture. “Well, still sexy, yeah?”

Chuckling, you leaned in, studying the fake ID, impressed by how real it looked. “Very sexy, Yeon, but remind me why you dyed your hair red? Is it the quarter life crisis settling in?”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, tucking his ID back into his pocket. “Ha-ha, funny. I just thought I should look the part if I’m going in as some renowned hacker.”

You pushed a few files out of the way to lean against Yeonjun’s desk beside him. “Have you been studying up on your skills then?”

“Of course, I have. I know I joke around a lot, but I’ve dedicated my life to this, Y/N…”

You looked down at Yeonjun’s hand, the one that rested on the desk in between you, his fingers drumming against the surface. “Good, because they don’t play around…”

The drumming stopped. Yeonjun turned his head to look at you, a flicker of light inside his brown eyes, like he was trying to understand you. “Do you…ever think about your life before the academy? Before this? Do you wish you could go back?”

You bit into your lip, gazing past Yeonjun’s hand at one of the files that contained information about the very people you would be betraying. “I…just want to be good. Do what’s right…That’s why I left all of that. It’s why I’m here now.”

He leaned over slightly until his shoulder pressed into yours, using his pinky to nudge at yours. “Not many would do what you’ve done, y’know. Giving up their way of life for something like this.”

You nudged back, staring into the half empty cup of coffee you were still holding onto. “Not many people are this stupid.”

“Not stupid.” Yeonjun pretended to clink his empty paper cup against yours, giving you a soft smile. “Brave. You’re the key component of this entire operation, Y/N. That’s huge. You’ll make a difference. Isn’t that what this is all about?”

“Maybe…you’re right,” you replied softly, once again distracted by the folder from before, the one that was slightly open just enough to reveal the image of a man with slick back hair, dressed in quaint Victorian style clothes, with a big bow wrapped around his neck. Kim Hongjoong, owner of the Kim Estate and leader of the Black Pirate Organization. You knew him all too well, and all his closest cohorts. Would they recognize you? You hadn’t seen them since you were a young girl, forgotten by most and lost inside a system that didn’t care about you, except for the ambitious young man that swore he would one day be sat atop his ivory tower with those that followed his path. And now there he was, living the high life inside his big shiny mansion, sipping on fine wine, while you were still forcing down bitter instant coffee day after day, surrounded by people that looked at you, but never really saw you for what you were, whatever that was. Maybe Hongjoong knew.

“Y/N…? You’re staring off into space again…” Yeonjun whispered near you, getting up from the desk once you came back to Earth. “Anyways, it’s late, and we have a lot to do tomorrow. We should get going.”

“You’re right, we need as much rest as we can get.” You stretched out your legs before standing back up, just now noticing that you were the only two left inside the workspace, the light from your Chief’s office still peeking out past the dusty blinds. Maybe your Chief knew.

Packing up your briefcase, you smiled at Yeonjun. “Should I dye my hair too?”

Yeonjun pouted, resting his own briefcase against his hip. “That’s my thing.”

Particles of dust and dirt filled your lungs, joining the blood that you began to choke on. It hurt to breathe, but your body carried on supplying oxygen to your lungs, not giving you a choice in the matter. You rolled over onto your back to face the night sky, your teary eyes focusing on the twinkling stars and the bright blue moon that loomed over the town, storm clouds rolling past until they blocked out the pretty view. Heavy rain began to pour down, soaking you to the bone. Even though you were losing the will to live, you still held onto the silver pair of scissors that you used to prove a point, even though it might’ve cost you your life. That was still something. However, your dear mentor still stood over you, his neck being clutched tightly by his trembling fingers, crimson slowly slipping past them.

“See what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you? Ungrateful brat,” he choked out in between shallow breaths. Frustrated, he let out a gurgled growl, tossing his bloodied shank onto the dirt road beside his feet. You could’ve sworn you saw tears slip down his flushed cheeks, but then again, it was raining. “I didn’t want to do this…but you gave me no choice.”

His closest companion took a step forward to securely grasp his upper arm, urging him, “Sir, we need to get you to the nearest hideout. I won’t let you bleed out like this.”

The disheveled man’s other trusted subordinate placed a gloved hand on one of his shoulders, squeezing into it with urgency. He surveyed you past his foggy glasses, pushing them up the slope of his nose. His eyes were once filled with a sense of endearment when he looked at you, but now, they held contempt. “She made her decision, sir.”

The struggling leader turned his head to look back and forth between his dear followers, then at his men who all waited behind them, their rain-streaked faces contorted with conflicted apprehension. They stood perfectly still like statues, until the all too familiar sound of sirens rang out in the distance. That’s when they all scattered, like rats, escaping from the flashing lights and disappearing into the dark of the night.

Your soon to be killer was the last one to leave, looming over you as though he was Death himself, beads of rain, sweat, and blood dripping from his chin and down onto your face below. “Just one question, darling…” He held his neck tighter than before, growing dizzier from all the blood loss. “Why?”

A small, self-satisfied laugh painfully bellowed from your chest, causing you to grab at your stomach where it had been sliced into. “The blade cuts both ways, sir. I was just following your lead…” You weakly lifted your hand up in the air, as though you wanted to reach him, but simply couldn’t. “Why aren’t you proud of the monster you created?”

The man began to beam at you, but the corner of his lips stretched to an unfathomable degree, as though he had carved a smile into his own face. He lifted his chin up just enough to rid himself of the shadow that was cast over him, his brown eyes now void of anything, simply black. Soulless. “Oh, darling…the monster was always there. I simply dug it up.”

You suddenly woke up and sat upright in your bed, your entire body covered in a layer of sweat, leading you to desperately kick off the comforter that had trapped you inside the sweltering heat. Upon realizing you were no longer caught inside a warped memory from your adolescence, you looked down at your stomach, lifting up the edge of your shirt to see if your scar was still there, sighing softly when you saw the jagged patch of skin.

Your past doesn't define you. He doesn't define you — none of them do. And, now, you had the opportunity to create your own definition, and get a little revenge while you were at it.

“Do we ring the doorbell…?” Yeonjun asked from beside you, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, getting a bit dizzy from trying to take in all of the glory of the Kim Estate.

You were too busy studying the faded stains of blood left on the stone floor below to notice how out of character Yeonjun was already behaving, not that you could blame him. A similar prick of anxiety was already embedding itself into your mind, but you waved it away as soon as it made itself present. “We may be entering a lion’s den, but we won’t behave like them. I’ll knock.”

Yeonjun nodded swiftly, clutching the handle of his messenger bag tightly inside his sweaty hand. “Hopefully they don’t eat us alive.”

You gently pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, making sure you didn’t disturb the positioning of the micro earpiece that was sitting just behind your tragus. “They won’t, as long as we prove our worth.”

You grabbed onto the obnoxious ivory door knocker, and just as you were about to make your presence known, you found yourself being yanked into the mansion by someone much bigger than you, Yeonjun’s squeaks of protest becoming background noise as soon as the man slammed you against the nearest wall. What felt to be the cold barrel of a compact handgun pressed up into the bottom of your chin with a click, your assailant’s focused, deep-set eyes boring into your own. “Is this how you welcome all your guests?”

“Not all of them…some I leave dead on the doorstep before they can even get a chance to beg on their knees,” the man muttered in a distinctly gravelly voice, a small chuckle bubbling out of his throat. Usually, the people he dealt with would be pissing themselves at this point, but it just seemed to be another day for this strangely familiar visitor.

You could almost see your partner out of the corner of your eye, already on his own knees, his distinctively red hair being held onto by a nameless man in a 3-hole knit balaclava. It was then that you angled your head up slightly to get a good look at your old friend, feeling the barrel push harder into your skin. “Every guard dog has to have their fun, right? And, if you blew my head off now, well, where’s the fun in that?”

“You’re right, doll.” The tall man’s plump lips quirked up into a smirk, slowly dragging his gun past your chin, down your neck, and along the softest parts of your body, poking and prodding at you in an attempt to humiliate you. “Should I see how many new holes I can give you? Fill them all with hot lead?”

“At least buy me a drink first,” you said through gritted teeth, trying not to show any discomfort when he pushed the loaded gun roughly into your abdomen, directly into your scar, not that he could’ve known it was there.

He seemed to enjoy your pained response, leaning his head back to let out a sudden laugh, one that was short and abrupt like a bark. “You’re one crazy bitch…” The man licked over his plump lips. “I like that.”

It was just then that somebody else entered the foyer, their presence so distinctly powerful, the lot of you couldn’t help but notice before he even stepped foot in the room. “Is that any way to treat a valued guest, Mingi? I thought I trained you better than that.”

Mingi immediately de-cocked the gun and brought it behind his back, tucking it away inside the waistline of his tailored pants. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Seonghwa patted Mingi’s shoulder with a gloved hand, giving him a small nod of understanding, before turning his attention to you and Yeonjun, the both of you cautiously standing with your backs against the paneled wall. “I do apologize for my guard dog. We try to keep him on a tight leash, but sometimes…he gets loose.” His shifting eyes formed half crescents. “You understand.”

Yeonjun glanced over at you for guidance, and you responded with a small smile, before nodding your head obediently at Seonghwa’s words, Yeonjun following your lead. “It’s not a problem.”

Seonghwa clasped his hands together, shaking his head slightly, a strand or two of raven hair falling past his forehead from where the rest of it sat perfectly still. He couldn’t seem to understand why he was experiencing a bout of deja vu. “Where are my manners?” He pressed his palm into his chest, and gave a small bow. “I’m Park Seonghwa, the second in command, if you will, here at the Kim Estate.”

Yeonjun bowed back instantly, pushing his dyed hair behind his ears as he stood up straight. “My name’s Yeon. That’s what I go by online.”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows raised up slightly. “Ah, I know you.” He chuckled to himself, glad that he was able to pinpoint the air of familiarity, but still annoyed that something wasn’t quite right. “You’re that hacker that’s going around and fucking with the local government, aren’t you?”

Yeonjun was glad he didn’t eat too much that morning, otherwise he would’ve already thrown it up by now. He brought a peace sign up to his face and smiled. “That’s me, professional shit-stirrer at your service.”

As more men began to trickle into the foyer to see what all the commotion was about, Seonghwa slowly turned his attention back to you, the true object of his frustration. It’s like he had seen you many times before, in a dream, perhaps? In the casino they ran behind closed doors? Or maybe you were one of the many playthings that were brought in to appease the voracious appetites of his degenerate cohorts. Either way, Seonghwa both loved and loathed the way you were already inside his mind, like you had already lived there, and your existence had simply been unearthed by the sands of time.

“And, you are…?” he asked in a slow, calculated manner, his head tilting to the side.

“I’m a diamond expert,” you explained vaguely, motioning to the large suitcase of supplies you were holding. “I can see the value of most things from a mile away, much like your dear leader.”

Hongjoong was already aware of your arrival. You could feel it in your bones.

Seonghwa brought a closed fist to his chin, nodding at your words, still not completely sure why he felt so uncomfortable. “But, who are you?”

Your bubbling amusement was starting to rush to the surface, unable to keep yourself from smiling. And, just like that, you reunited with your dear mentor, except on opposite sides of the chess board. You were delighted everyone was there to witness the beginnings of your awaited rematch. “Why don’t you ask him? I think he’ll have an idea of who I am,” you replied giddily, prompting you to motion your head to the man that stood above the rest of you.

You felt something stir within the men that looked at you, as though what had been hidden for so long had finally come to light. You weren’t a ghost, much to their surprise — well, at least, not yet. You were, of course, taking a gamble with your life, and your partner’s as well, but risks were meant to be taken, rules were meant to be broken, and strings were meant to be cut.

As though right on time, Hongjoong dug his nails into the mahogany railing of the expansive landing, his free hand unconsciously adjusting the bow that was wrapped securely around his neck. He understood the most out of all them. Value. You looked up to him, moving your fingers as though you were using a pair of scissors.

“Remember now?”

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pathologicalreid · 6 months ago

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for the fear of falling apart | part three

when it seems like a return to normalcy is impossible, you decide that something has to give, but will it bend or will it break?

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, therapy, mommy and daddy issues, sigmund freud, nightmares and ptsd, sleep deprivation, takes place during 15x4 "saturday" (max does not exist in this au), stalkers, yelling, police, domestic disturbance, broken dishes, severe self image issues, crying, implies that jj is sometimes not the greatest friend, marriage and marriage counseling, mentions the death of grace lynch, the chameleon arc, reader and spencer are both broken people sry. things get resolved (or do they?) word count: 5.13k a/n: i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that people will not like how this part goes, but i do think it's important to remember that this is not where it ends. it's probably easy to guess what episode I'm rewriting next. lol. let me know your thoughts and feelings because i am dying to know.

“Are you glad to be back at work?” Your therapist asked you, writing down your personal information on the form on her clipboard before she met your stare.

Chewing impatiently on the inside of your lip, you glanced over to the clock that was hung above the door, dooming you to another forty-five minutes with Dr. Harmon. “Yes, I love desk duty,” you told her, flashing a fake smile in her direction.

The older woman looked at you doubtfully, and you silently begged for her to sign your return to duty forms. “I thought we spoke about using sarcasm as a coping mechanism,” she responded in a way that made you feel chastised.

You raised your eyebrows at her, gray hair neatly combed into a tight bun, you had spent more time with your therapist for the past two months than you had any of your family – the rest of your time was spent retraining your body, usually within the limitations of your doctor’s orders. “And I thought we talked about there being worse coping mechanisms that I could be using,” you countered, leaning back in her chair.

She shrugged helplessly, “Well, I’m not sure about signing your release forms. You could be a liability in the field.”

Eyes widening, you tilted your head to the side, “No, no, no, I’ve grown a new appreciation for the desk workers in the BAU. I even stopped laughing when people refer to Agent Anderson as Grunt Anderson,” you informed her, nodding as if that would help convince her of your honesty.

Checking off a box on your form, she set the clipboard on her side table, just out of your view. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Harmon leaned forward and folded her hands over her knee, “Have you spoken to your sister since the last time I saw you?”

You leaned your head back, staring at the tiles of the ceiling as any hope of returning to the field left your body.

One of your very first dates with Spencer had been at the Academy’s shooting range, you had a lucky spot there, it was where you had aced your qualification as a cadet, and it was pure luck that it had been available when you arrived.

As your paper target was brought forward, you slipped off your headphones and set your weapon down, studying the results as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, casually leaning against the wall behind you.

You jumped slightly as the sound of his voice took you away from your anxiety, “Hey,” you echoed, holstering your weapon as you sent your target back for someone to change it out.

“I thought you were going to come to the BAU after therapy,” he explained, arms crossed in front of his chest in his charcoal suit, camouflaging himself with the steely gray of the shooting range.

Pursing your lips, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before grabbing your bag, “I wanted to get some practice in before my requalification test.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “Did your therapist sign your return to duty?”

“No,” you muttered, knowing that you wouldn’t be eligible to take your firearms requalification until after you had been cleared by a psychiatrist.

Any surprise quickly left his face, “What did she say, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “She told me that it’s possible that my strained relationship with my parents is negatively affecting my performance in my sessions. Then she threw a Freud biography at my head.”

“Did you talk to her about the nightmares?” He asked, following you as you checked out of the shooting range, waving to a gaggle of cadets as they noticed the BAU agents in their general vicinity.

Faltering as you opened the door, you flung the glass door open and trudged out of it, “I have it under control,” you lied through your teeth, continuing your way to the elevator.

The tapping of Spencer’s shoes signified that he was following you, holding his hand over the sensor while you stepped in and using his knuckle to press the parking garage button, “You were up all night last night,” he retorted, “She could help you develop a coping mechanism that works for you so that you can get some rest, angel.”

You were getting tired of those words, “Well, maybe we’ll reach a breakthrough next week. You never know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so unamenable,” he accused.

Shaking your head as you stepped out of the elevator, you hoisted your bag back over your shoulder, “Is unamenable genius-speak for pain in the ass?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” he retorted, swiping the keys out of your hands before unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. You had been cleared to drive weeks ago, but Spencer still insisted on driving you.

You groaned, “My recent brush with death has made it difficult for me to let bygones be bygones.”

Pulling out of the parking spot, he carefully placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, “And here I thought we were actually going to move on with our lives.”

“No one holds a grudge like a youngest child,” you informed him, leaning your head against the window and wishing you had driven separately.

Being at home wasn’t much better than being at Quantico. You quickly changed and settled yourself on the couch while Spencer sat across from you, legs crossed in the wingback chair as he finished filling in a crossword book that you had started that morning.

You watched the clock tick, the diffused orange light of the sunset beamed through the curtains, and you felt yourself settle. Stiff joints and aching muscles unwound on the supple leather of the couch, and as you let your eyes fall shut, you felt the breeze of someone walking by before Spencer stopped in front of you.

Gently, he draped a knit blanket over you, tucking you in before crouching and dropping a gentle kiss to your temple.

Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now.

I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.

It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“Honey, wake up.”

You startled awake on the couch, wadding up the blanket in your fists as your eyes adjusted to the dim environment of the apartment. The sun had set, dipping below the skyline as you stared ahead.

Concerned brown eyes bore into you as you caught your breath, Spencer reached over and flicked on the table lamp next to you, “You’re alright,” he cooed, gently enough to make you want to cry. “It was just a bad dream,” he told you, cupping your cheek and studying your expression.

Nodding absently, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, the familiar knit blanket falling in a puddle around your waist. “I was in the parking garage again,” you preemptively answered his next question. You were usually in the parking garage, sometimes you were on the beach, and once you had been fully underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

You shook your head and ignored the defeated look on Spencer’s face, instead burying your face in your hands and taking a few deep breaths.

He waited for a moment before speaking again, reaching out and adjusting the bunched-up fabric of your t-shirt, “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, afraid it would start growling at the mention of food.

As you watched Spencer get up and walk over to the kitchen, you let yourself feel like everything was alright for the slightest moment. You wanted your apartment to be your safe space where there were no serial killers or sisters or hospitals, but there was a classified file on the kitchen table, photos of you and your sister littered the walls, and there was an entire drawer in the home office dedicated to your hospital stay.

Melding into the couch cushions, you ignored the stiffness in your side, the scars that marred your skin were healed over, but the memory would stick with you for a lifetime. It felt like a phantom pain, irritating your skin whenever you thought too much about it, or whenever your therapist asked you about Grace Lynch.

It didn’t bring you a lot of comfort to know that she was dead, murdered by her own father after conning her ex-girlfriend into giving her money. Everett Lynch was the threat now, and you were stuck on the bench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your cheek on your knee as Spencer ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to you, complete with a few ice cubes to cool it down. He waltzed back into the kitchen to clean up when his phone rang.

You ignored his conversation while you stirred the ice cubes around in your bowl, the soft clinking of them mesmerizing your tired brain. You ate while he spoke on the phone, mentioning something about a case. Pushing any thoughts of serial killers away, you just ate your soup.

Sipping at the broth, you grew curious about what was going on over the phone, but you tried to mind your business, scooping at the last noodles in the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Who was that?” You asked, eyes following Spencer as he walked back over to the living room, slipping his phone in his pocket as he sat next to you on the couch.

He paused for a moment, and you immediately regretted asking, “Uh, it was JJ.”

You supposed it had to mean something that he elected to tell you the truth instead of lying to you, but you were no longer feeling optimistic, “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” he said immediately.

You turned to him, raising your eyebrows curiously and pushing yourself into the corner of the couch – away from him, “Start what, Spencer?”

Spencer put his hands up, “Picking a fight with me over JJ’s feelings. JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope are working on a stalker case, it’s nothing that we need to worry about.”

“I’m not going to pick a fight with you, I already told you that I forgive you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He groaned in frustration, “You can say it all you want, but you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven me.”

As he usually was, Spencer was right, you hadn’t forgiven him for lying to you about what had happened between him and JJ. You wanted to. You wanted to find it in yourself to be the bigger person and just tell him it was fine. All you wanted was to move on, but you were crashing into roadblock after roadblock. “Are you going to work that case?”

“No, it’s a classic stalking case, they’ll make it without me,” he said, turning on the couch to face you.

You swallowed thickly, “You can go if you’d rather be there,” you reassured him, wondering if he’d be happier at work than at home with you. Someone needed to make a decision, someone needed to decide whether or not the two of you were going to keep going or if you were going to call it off. You didn’t want it to be you, you were afraid of which option you might choose.

Spencer frowned, “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not,” you answered.

“Yes, yes you are,” he challenged, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

Shaking your head, you threw your hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to go. You can stay here. You live here. Who the fuck am I to tell you to leave?”

“And now you’re escalating the situation,” he observed, straightening up and watching you carefully.

You didn’t consider yourself an angry person. The two of you didn’t fight often, but as you considered your options, you wondered if it could help. Maybe you could replicate the feeling of a good cry. Maybe all you need is a good fight. Just talk it out – loudly. “I’m not escalating anything. I’m not starting anything. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been going on for months.”

He had noticed, he could probably give you an exact date and time to point out when everything fell apart. Was it inside the pawn shop? Was it in the courtyard outside of Rossi’s wedding? “I thought we had made some real progress at the hospital,” he challenged.

Getting up from the couch, you took a deep breath and tossed the blanket over the back, “You cannot seriously think that. You’re too smart to believe that, Spencer. The idea that we fixed everything while I was hopped up on Xanax and painkillers. It’s… it’s…” you stumbled over your words for a moment. It’s crazy. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t do that to him. Spencer had spent his whole life having that word thrown at his mother, and he spent adulthood fearing he’d have a schizophrenic break. “It’s outlandish,” you finally finished.

Spencer looked up at you from the couch, “Is it outlandish to think that the history we have together would help mend our relationship?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know, Spencer, let’s take a look at your history with my sister,” you snapped.

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“No,” you commanded, “Sit down and shut up. I’ve spent months waiting for you to get it, but apparently, I need to spell it out for you.”

To your surprise, he listened, watching you in silence as you took a deep breath, picked up your soup bowl, and brought it into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounded like thunder in your ears.

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I want you to empathize with me.” You calculated every word you said, “We’ve known each other for nine years. We’ve been together for seven, and I- I had the rug pulled out from under me. God, you went on a date with my sister. You took her to a football game as a hater of organized sports. My beautiful, prom queen, soccer star, gem of the family older sister.”

“It wasn’t a date, Penelope went with us,” Spencer added patiently.

You peered down at him, “When you asked her to go with you, did you do it with the intention that you would be taking her on a date?”

His shoulders slackened, “Yeah,” he answered softly.

“And you know that she loves you. If you went to her right now and told her you wanted to be with her, that there’s a chance she’d consider it. She’d at least have to think about it,” you told him, confidence dissipating as your hands started to tremble and you silently begged yourself not to cry.

Spencer watched you suspiciously, “What gave you the impression that I want to be with her instead of you?”

You faltered, just for a moment, “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her?” You asked exasperatedly, letting your arms fall limply at your sides.

Pinching his eyebrows together, your boyfriend looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “She’s married? Her kids are my godchildren?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you cursed yourself as tears stung your eyes, “Are those seriously the only reasons you can think of?” With all the brain power you knew he had, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, “Putting aside the fact that I’d be destroying a marriage, not because it doesn’t matter, but because being with your sister isn’t even something I’d consider. This might not have occurred to you, but I have absolutely no interest in being with someone other than you!”

You huffed, “Please, she’s beautiful and athletic and older and you’ve known her for fifteen years!” You shouted over your shoulder, making your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything you needed from in there, you just needed to keep moving.

“But she’s not you!” He yelled from the couch, finally getting up and following you to the kitchen.

Spinning around on your heel, you threw your arms in the air, “God, I know!” You swung your arms down, accidentally sending the bowl you had set on the counter down to the floor, breaking on impact. “Shit,” you muttered, immediately dropping to a crouch and starting to pick up the ceramic shards.

“Hey, wait, let me get it,” Spencer insisted, grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer before laying it on the floor. He carefully picked up the larger shards, waving your hands away.

You clenched your hands and glared at him with bleary eyes, “Why? Why am I not allowed to clean up the mess that I made?”

Spencer sighed, “You’re crying. I don’t want you to get hurt because you can’t see well,” he told you, prompting you to sit back on the tile and watch him continue to pick up.

You crisscrossed your legs and watched him, “I’m sorry for yelling,” you whispered, so quietly that you weren’t even sure he had heard you.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Spencer gathered up the kitchen towel and set it on the counter, setting his hands on the counter and taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he echoed your sentiments. He moved to the hall closet to get out the broom, interrupted by a knock on the door.

Confused, you poked your head over the counter and watched as Spencer opened the front door.

“Good evening, officer,” he greeted, casting a sidelong glance over at you.

Fuck.

You scrambled to your feet, careful not to step on any pieces of the bowl that remained on the floor and wiping beneath your eyes as you made your way to the door, peeking around the corner to find two DC Metro officers. “Agent Jareau?” One of the officers said curiously.

“Hi,” you waved timidly, looking between the two of them with your tail between your legs.

He looked surprised at the revelation of who lived here, recognizing you from a case you had consulted on months ago. “We were called here on a report of a domestic disturbance, your neighbor in said she heard ‘a lot of yelling before there was a crash and then everything went quiet’.”

The summation of events did nothing to slow your racing heart, “We had uh… we were having a disagreement, and I knocked over a bowl. It was an accident,” you reassured the officer, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand as a sign of good faith.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You nodded in confirmation, “I’m really sorry about any inconvenience, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

The DC Metro officers studied Spencer suspiciously, and you protectively moved in front of him. They were trained to see the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing happening here, “Well then, just uh… try to keep it down, I suppose.”

The two of you waved as they walked away, once the door was closed, you turned to face Spencer, “Are you alright?”

He looked a little pale, “I’m alright,” he nodded, gathering himself before going back to the hall closet. “That was weird,” he added.

Spencer’s interaction with police officers was limited to work with the bureau and his time in prison. He never had to explain an underage drunk person in the car or run when a party got too rowdy, but he wasn’t concerned with the confrontation, he was concerned that, for a moment, before you got there, those officers saw Spencer as a violent person. You stayed put, watching him sweep up the last of the bowl and take care of the sharp pieces with a keen eye.

“I’d never hurt you,” Spencer said softly, unnecessarily explaining to you.

You nodded, “I know. You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person.” In fact, you had only seen Spencer aggressively violent one time in your life, and that was when his mother’s life was on the line. Stepping over to him, you lifted yourself so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, meeting his eyes.

“She is not you,” he murmured, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “I am well aware,” you offered.

He took a deep breath, “JJ would never ask me to recite Henry James to her or offer to go to the planetarium with me even after we spent all day on a case or sit through one of my lectures just to hear me talk about something I’m passionate about,” he began. "I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about something I’m passionate about with your sister. Not one where she didn’t interrupt me or pawn me off on somebody else,” he told you, disconnecting one of your hands to wipe new tears from your cheeks.

“I- I’m not…” you breathed, overwhelmed as he sang your praises.

“I know you compare yourself to her,” he cut you off, “it’s normal for you to compare yourself to your older sister. I just didn’t know how lowly you thought of yourself until all of this was dug up.”

Frowning, you cocked your head to the side, “I do not compare myself to her,” you remarked.

He hummed in response, “It wasn’t up for debate. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone except for you. I am sorry that I never told you about the football game, but by the time you joined the team, six years had passed, and I didn’t think it was pertinent to tell you that your sister had rejected me. That is entirely on me, and I can’t change it. I can, however, spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Your breathing hitched, and the ghost of a potential proposal once again floated through the air, it made your heart ache. “One of these days you’re going to have to actually ask me to marry you,” you whispered, not sure how much longer you’d be able to sit and wait while he neglected to act upon his words.

“What do you want right now?” Spencer asked, studying your facial expression.

You have spent three months being mad at him, and you had to believe it all came down to tonight. Neither of you could keep going with things the way they were. “I’m not sure,” you answered.

Patiently, Spencer inquired, “Do you want to break up?”

If you told him you hadn’t thought about it, you’d be lying. It broke your heart to think about ending things with him, to think that six years together didn’t mean something to the both of you. Spencer had never given any inclination that he was interested in anyone else, so maybe he should’ve told you about the football game, but you shouldn't have let your insecurities block any attempt at reconciliation. “No,” you responded truthfully.

He had tried, too. The one-sided conversations he had with floral bouquets, taking time off of work to help you while you recovered, and he had even limited his contact with your sister. “Do you want to go to couple’s therapy?”

You had heard through the grapevine that your sister was trying marriage counseling with Will, something about working on their communication skills. With that in mind, you nodded, “We can try it out.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, settling a hand on your thigh.

Through the sheer curtains, you looked outside, “I want to go,” you informed him, hopping off of the kitchen counter and to your shared bedroom, pulling on a pair of socks.

Confused, Spencer followed you around the apartment, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“I’m going,” you said simply.

He looked surprised at this, “It’s the middle of the night in the twenty-second largest city in the country, you’re not going out alone.”

You paused for a moment at his concern, watching the defeated look on his face morph into one of relief when you responded, “Then put your shoes on,” you encouraged.

As you waited by the door, mindful to not walk through the apartment with your shoes on, he stopped in your bedroom for a moment before coming back out and slipping his sneakers on. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing your keys off of the hook, you opened the door and held it for Spencer as he followed your lead. “You know at the start of Moby Dick when Ishmael says when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanting to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea?”

He nods, taking the keys from your hand and locking the door behind him, glancing briefly at your neighbor’s door before handing your keys back to you, “I’m familiar,” he confirmed.

“Well, I’m feeling rather grim about the mouth,” you told him assuredly, slipping your keys into your pockets and slowly making your way down the hold staircase of your apartment building, listening for Spencer’s footsteps right behind you.

Even with your back turned, you knew his expression would be one of confusion, “So, you want to take to the sea?”

You quickly shook your head, the very last place you wanted to be was near a body of water in the middle of the night, “Not particularly, but maybe the park and some fresh air would do me some good.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he confirmed, stepping around you to hold the front door open so that you could walk outside, the cool night air stinging your face as you did.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the night sky, the stars hidden through the city’s light pollution.

Upon reaching the park, which was just a small green space down the street from your apartment, Spencer led you to a cement bench, the two of you sitting down and sitting in silence. You welcomed the cold air filling your lungs, watching the fountain from a distance and admiring the way the headlights of a few passing cars reflected off of the water.

He kept a hand on your back, gently moving his hand up and down your spine as the two of you reveled in the startling nighttime peace. “I haven’t been fair to you,” you murmured nervously, looking over at him.

“None of this has been fair to anyone,” he reminded you.

You sighed, “JJ confessed her feelings, not the other way around, and I- I shouldn’t have held that against you for so long.” The admission came to you easily, holding your breath as you waited for him to agree.

Spencer’s silence worried you, but then he finally responded, “I probably would have done the same thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to speculate how I would or wouldn’t have acted in your shoes.”

“I just… she’s always been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect agent, and I’m… I’m just me,” you said helplessly, staring ahead at the fountain.

He took a deep breath, “You’re perfect to me.”

“Stop,” you chastised halfheartedly.

Chuckling, he placed his hand over yours, “I mean it. Sometimes perfection is about the final concoction and not about getting all of the steps right. You don’t need the perfect journey, and, to me, nothing proves that more than you.”

You hummed, “You’re sweet.”

“For what it’s worth, I think, given the opportunity, you could be a perfect wife,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee, getting your head to snap to the side.

Jumping up from the bench, you smacked your hand over your mouth at the small black box that he had set on the stone surface. “What are you… what?” You asked breathlessly, looking behind you in the way people usually did when they were surprised, waiting to see if you were being pranked.

“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” he reached down and snapped the box open, showing you the glimmering ring inside. “It can just be a promise because I am promising you right now, this is it for me. You are the only person I can see myself with, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Gaping at him, you looked between him and the ring before closing your mouth, “That sounds an awful lot like an engagement ring,” you told him, out of breath.

He nodded, “That’s because I want it to be.”

“Okay,” you answered.

“What?”

You giggled, he evidently hadn’t expected that answer, “Yes, Spencer.”

He stood up, tackling you in an embrace, “Thank goodness.” He said, relaxing into you as you returned his hug.

Over the past few months, you had been almost afraid of him asking you, worried that it would feel like an excuse. A band-aid over a bullet hole. But as you held each other tightly, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right. This was where you were always meant to be. “Will you put it on me?”

He nodded slowly, sniffling as he pulled away from you, the warmth of his body leaving you as he nimbly took your left hand, slipping the ring on your fourth finger. The metal felt foreign on your skin, but you welcomed it nonetheless. “That has been sitting in my sock drawer for a year,” he admitted, placing both of his hands on your waist and meeting your eyes.

You beamed up at him, at both the revelation that he bought you a ring well before any of the trials and tribulations of the last few months and that he hid the ring in the one place you never touched – the seemingly bottomless abyss of unmated socks that Spencer called his sock drawer. “Thank you,” you breathed.

Spencer leaned his head down, hovering his lips just above your own, “For what, love?”

Blinking small tears out of your eyes, you answered, “For not giving up on us.”

He smiled, “Never,” he whispered before dropping his lips to yours, the intimacy of something as small as a kiss enough to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Do you want to go home? Or are you still feeling grim about the mouth?”

“Let’s go home, Spence,” you told him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before the two of you began the trek home, hand in hand.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #jennifer jareau #jareau!reader #written by margot #ffofa

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aayakashii · 6 months ago

Text

(maybe) distance makes the heart grow fonder

You are extremely tired. Being mistreated, humiliated and talked down on the daily takes a toll on your body and you finally break down. There's not many people that would help you as you grieve the life you've lost and the life you might lose. But maybe some of them care about you more than you think.

Or: you decide to disappear for a while and some jerks miss you, part one. This will be a series~

You didn’t ask for any of that.

You didn’t ask for the dangers, the insults, the threats, the disrespect.

Funny, there used to be a time in your life in which you’d be thrilled at the idea of a magical world, hidden from most people. You’d run away from reality inside your mind and make yourself the main character of a world in which people could blast magic from their fingertips and, somehow you, plain old you, would attract the attention of the most powerful and most beautiful person in that world. And then something something happily ever after.

You’d never guess that the middle - the “something something” you’d skip thinking about, so you could jump into the end of the story where the happiness is already yours - was the worst part of everything. And that there was no beautiful, powerful person coming to sweep you off your feet and save you from all the hurt.

In fact, the most beautiful and most powerful were the ones hurting you the most.

You scoffed.

If they ever swept you off your feet, it would be to knock you down in the mud and let you fester there, alone.

You looked at your phone, grasping it tightly. It was pinging and pinging nonstop. Messages from Romeo and Jin, you’d guess, but you didn’t even want to look at the bland stock wallpaper of that phone that wasn’t truly your own.

You wondered for a second what happened with all your belongings when you got to the Academy. Everything was ripped from you and you didn’t even know why. You couldn’t log into your personal, old accounts and you couldn’t contact anyone you knew before. It was all gone.

You were plucked from your own life, like someone would pluck an infesting weed.

You wondered if anyone thought of you. Your family, your friends. Did the anomaly erase their memories of you? Did it take that away from you as well? Or was everyone thinking you vanished without a trace, your parents begging the police to find you and your friends sadly looking at the spot you used to sit at in your classroom, reminiscing about the things you used to like as if you were gone forever. And maybe you truly were.

You didn't know which was worse.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You couldn’t log into your old accounts, but maybe you could try to look at them, as a guest.

You sat upright against a large tree in the middle of Jabberwock’s field.

You were hiding in there, being the only space in which you could feel safe and be left to your own devices.

Hotarubi was also welcoming, but you knew how Zenji would fret over you feeling depressed. Obscuary would also welcome you, but Lyca would never leave you alone, much less give you any space, if he knew you were sad like that.

Meanwhile, in Jabberwock, Haru was too busy, Towa wouldn’t speak because it was daylight and Ren was too emotionally constipated to feel like dealing with you, if he ever stumbled upon you there - which he wouldn’t. So Jabberwock it was.

You typed your old Twitter user on the search bar, feeling a wave of bitter nostalgia as you looked at the name that used to be so intertwined with your life. The page loaded slowly, since you were in the middle of nowhere and the internet was almost just a suggestion; and as the loading bar grew, your stomach churned inside of you, an uncomfortable feeling in the back of your throat setting in and reminding you that doing that was probably a very bad idea.

When you were about to close the tab, the page finished loading.

You were met with your old profile page. The already small following count seemed to be even smaller - people probably unfollowed you after all those weeks of inactivity - but that was barely registered on your mind. What caught your attention was the last tweet you had posted:

“Going to see the last show of my favorite band before they disband… this is the most tragic thing to ever happen in my life”

You blinked slowly, reading and re-reading the tweet you had posted on that accursed September 3rd in a loop.

And then you laughed.

You rested your head on your hands, phone flush against your forehead, and you laughed loudly, like you had just heard the funniest joke in the entire world.

And when the lump in your throat became too much for you to ignore, the laughter became a scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed, as tears fell from your eyes in an endless flow.

You wailed like you hadn’t allowed yourself to do for all the time you’ve been in Darkwick. The grief came crashing down onto you mercilessly and you felt like you were drowning. You felt how your throat got hurt as you screamed, but the pain was nothing next to the weight of everything you had lost and everything you were going through.

You choked with your own saliva, retching painfully and feeling the metallic taste of blood, but the tears just wouldn't stop. You fell forward, curling into yourself and looked at the phone in your hand.

The irony of that tweet, the foreshadowing, was simply too much for you to handle.

You wanted to go back.

You needed to go back to that time in which the saddest thing happening to you was a stupid band disbanding.

You desperately wanted to go back to a time in which you didn’t have power hungry men insulting and humiliating you like you were lesser than human, calling you a servant, or a worm, or a bitch.

When you didn’t have a crazed psychopath threatening your life with a gun to your temple or a knife to your throat.

When you didn’t have a guillotine hanging upon your head every single moment of your life, tick-tocking with the reminder of your imminent death.

You watched your tears fall to the grass, alongside the drool from your lips as you kept on crying loudly. It felt like it would never stop. You had too many tears long unshed to be able to stop, even if your throat was destroyed at this point, with how much you screamed.

The sound of grass being quickly stomped reached your ears for a moment, but you felt too weak to look up. You just kept on crying and moaning, now that your voice was almost gone.

A hesitant hand touched your back.

“Dandelion?” Towa’s voice reached your ears and you jerked up, flinching at his touch.

He was crouched right before you and you watched as his eyes widened and his eyebrows knitted together, concern being clear on his face. You were probably a dreadful sight at that moment.

“Towa…” you tried to say but your voice sounded raspy and barely audible.

His hands gently rested on your shoulders as he kneeled. “What happened, Dandelion?”

You noticed how he was talking despite it being daylight outside. The sincerity of his worry and his touch made the tears quickly come back, and you realized how starved of comfort and gentleness you were.

You shaking hands grasped his shirt and you slowly pulled him towards you, silently asking for a hug. Towa immediately complied, shifting his position so he could hold you.

This time, your tears were silent. You sniffed and cried quietly, wetting the fabric of Towa’s clothes as he held you close, hands tracing circles on your back.

Despite Towa’s unpredictable nature, he was patient. You knew that meant a lot. He liked you enough to stay still and let you cry without explaining yourself.

After a while, you began feeling self-conscious about being a bother and you forced yourself to untangle from his embrace, sniffling and rubbing your puffy eyes. His hands followed you and he kept his tight hold on your arms.

“I’m sorry I cried so much.” you whispered.

Towa shook his head and his eyes still glinted with worry.

“What happened?” he repeated.

Your lips quivered, but you swallowed the tears, feeling the burn in your throat.

“I’m tired.” you said, looking down. He hummed, not really satisfied with your short answer.

“I heard you scream. You’re so far away from our house, it took me some time to find you. I thought you were getting killed.” he leaned down, trying to keep his face in your field of view, and he looked as sad as he possibly could.

You chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… Today was too much.”

Towa stayed in that awkward position, and he blinked at you, patiently waiting for you to continue and you realized he wouldn’t just let you keep things to yourself.

You sighed, which came out with a ragged sound since your nose was stuffy, and straightened your back so he could change his position.

“Not everybody is like you or Haru. Most people are very mean in this place. And I’m sick of it. They hurt me intentionally even though I did nothing wrong. I'm tired of it” you tried summing it up as best as you could, because you knew you would probably cry again if you told him how terribly you had been treated on that specific day and why it was the straw the broke the camel's back.

He nodded.

“Yes, only Haru is nice. And you, Dandelion!” he smiled.

You smiled weakly, for what felt like the first time in a lifetime.

“Thank you, Towa. I really like you.”

Towa beamed at your words, hands gliding down your arms to hold your hands tightly.

“I love you, Dandelion!” he said, happily.

You knew he didn’t really mean it. Towa was, for some reason, obsessed with love and romance and you were pretty sure he would say it to anyone he liked. It did feel good to hear this after being so beaten down, though.

His face suddenly fell and he frowned.

“Let’s go to our house. You look sick. We can ask Haru to help you feel better!” he said, getting up and pulling you with him.

You knew there wasn’t any way to convince Towa to just let you be once he decided something, so you let him lead the way, taking clumsy steps behind him as you tried to find the strength to walk properly again.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader

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strawberryforks · 29 days ago

Note

Can you please write something for Tim Bradford where the reader is his rookie? Kind of like a grumpy /sunshine fic?? I just started watching the rookie and I'm literally in love with him😩

reckless smiles

warnings: probably swearing, mentions of DV & guns, other police stuff, nepotism (oops)

a/n: got you anon! hope this works! 🙈🙈 as always, asks are SO open! i’m working on a part two to the other TR fic i posted (per request) and if anyone likes this one there’s another small fic in this little mini series already written that i could post! it’s the call with barnaby <3 anyways, ENJOY!!

Sergeant Grey stands at the front of the briefing room. You’re sitting in the front row (like all rookies do), just happy to be here, beside fellow trainees Nolan, West, and Chen. “Rookies!” booms the sergeant, “today, we’re going to switch things up. Nolan you’re with Lopez, Chen with Bishop, West with me,” your face falls, smile collapsing completely, morphing into something else as you realize who's left to pair up with. Who you’ll be riding with today.

Tim Bradford.

Nolan leans over from his chair. He rests his hand on your shoulder while standing up and moving past you. But first, “You’ll be okay,” he assures—Chen, Bradford’s usual victim, doesn’t say a thing. Instead she shoots you a squashed smile and mouths “good luck,” you know you’ll need it but… but you’ll make the best out of it. Like always.

You steel your expression, trying to wipe away the upset that slipped onto your face momentarily. Despite Tim Bradford being the biggest asshole in the LAPD he’s your superior and you were raised to respect rank… even if you don’t respect the person.

“L/n, you’re with Bradford. Try not to kill each other. You’re good cops, we need you both.”

“She’s a boot. Hardly a cop,” Tim Bradford, asshole extraordinaire, chimes in.

“This batch of rookies is a good one and you know that. L/n is a legacy, top scores in the academy and a record number of arrests for her first year on the force. That’s not easily dismissable.”

Officers began to trickle out of the room, Lopez and Bishop were the first to leave, and then your friends—their rookies, Nolan and Chen, with.

“Feeding me to the wolves, West?” Jackson grins back at you, shrugs, and the door shuts behind him. Even Grey leaves, not wanting to be a part of this. The entire briefing room is empty save from you, Tim Bradford, and Smitty. Smitty, who has his hand inside a miniature bag of popcorn and his feet crossed at the ankles and stacked on top of the desk in front of him. He smacks loudly and Tim shoots him a withering glare. “Fine, fine,” he says, palms raised, “I’ll go. Just uh… tell me how it–”

“Smitty!”

He leaves the briefing room and then you’re left alone.

“Boot,”

“Sir,” you echo.

“I know you’re used to special treatment but that’s not how I work. I’ll be driving,” sure you (with your history) love to be behind the wheel but that’s not a problem, Tim doesn’t let Lucy drive either, it isn’t bias, just how he does things. “You do what I say when I say–none of that reckless idiotic behaviour I hear about from Harper. Just because she has unorthodox methods does not mean you should be copying them. You’re a rookie. Today, my rookie.”

“I don’t expect special treatment. And yes sir.”

Tim crosses his arms across his chest and tilts his head ever so slightly. He can’t figure you out–it frustrates him that he wants to. You’re always smiling and even now, looking at him with as close to a frown as he’s ever seen on your face, there’s something in your eyes. Not happiness but challenge, maybe? Determination. A sparkle that can’t be dimmed. Not with his shouting, not with his Tim-Tests. He almost takes it as a challenge. He almost tries to break you, to interrupt that inability to back down–the one he knows will get you killed.

The next week is awful but every day you show up to work with a smile (sometimes faux–but fake it until you make it and all that) and the drive to do better, to impress him.

You can’t.

At a DV call, the assaulted woman is terrified. Tim, he would leave that detail out, instead focusing on your shortcomings (how he had threatened to give you a blue page, how you sat there and took it: “I’d understand, is all I’m saying. If you need to put that blue page in my file, go ahead. And I know my lack of regret is not making this better for myself but… I’d do it again,”) that when the victim pulled a gun and pointed it at your head, after you arrested her husband, you decided to take away Tim’s shot. She was frantic and angry, losing her absolute mind, but moreover she was scared and when she pointed the gun at you–safety off, finger pulsing over the trigger because all of her was shaking. Tim had her in his crosshairs. You saw this and moved. You moved, knowing she would follow, and putting yourself at risk while making sure she couldn’t be killed. In your eyes, she was still the victim. She did fire her weapon. Into the ceiling, after you knocked the gun away.

Two similar incidents follow. Ones where you put yourself in needless danger.

You’re reckless. Impulsive. He’s seen you speed off duty, seen you sweet-talk the would-be arresting officer, give him your number and drive away scott free. All because of your smile, because of the twinkle in your eyes. The brightness, the innocent glow. Tim has seen you out at the club, drinking your bodyweight in booze, dancing and singing karaoke, and even a Clip Tok video of you soaking wet after diving into a partially frozen lake to rescue a dog. The public went wild over that one–Aaron Thorsen was in frame too, boosting the videos popularity. Tim could recognize the sentiment. It was great how determined you were, how kind you were, and the soft spot you had for animals and people alike but he was there and had hated every second of that terrifying call.

Tim corrects you, you smile and take it, switching your coffee into your other hand, handing the one you bought him over.

Tim shouts at you, that’s fine, you smile and take it.

That’s what you do, what you’ve always done: smile and endure.

“It’s downpouring, good thing our shift is almost over.”

“I’ve always liked the rain. It’s nice,”

“What part of getting rained on is nice, Boot? It’s basically the sky crying.”

“We need rain. If it’s good for plants it can’t be bad for us.”

“I find that logic flawed.”

“You find a lot of logic flawed, sir.”

“What was that?”

You tell him nothing, that you didn’t mean it, and your shift is over. Heading back to the station to grab your things you make your way into the locker room. Lucy’s there, pulling on her jacket and taking out her umbrella. “How do you do it, Luce?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“Deal with Tim. He hates me. I try so hard and he just hates me,”

“I don’t think…”

“He does. You know he does. He hates me because of my last name, because he doesn’t think I’m a good cop. Because I smile. I don’t know what to do. No one’s ever hated me for smiling before…”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Just hang in there. We’ve only got a few months left before we’re P2s then Grey’ll let you ride with someone else, I’m sure. Maybe with me–how about it?”

You nod, and give Lucy a small smile. She sees through it, how tired you look, how defeated. She rests her hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got to get going. Jackson’s waiting for me–I said I’d cook tonight.”

“See ya, Luce. Have a goodnight and say ‘hi’ to West for me.”

“Of course.”

Lucy slings her bag over her shoulder and leaves the locker room. The door swings open a second time and in walks Tim. He’s silent as he walks over to you. As he mirrors your movements across the small room, grabbing his own things from the cubby space.

Hehearditallhehearditallhehearditall.

You paste a smile on, almost wincing as you slip past him and– “Boo–Y/n.”

Your back faces him and all of you wants to keep it that way. My shift is over–I don’t have to endure, you think, but then you hear your father’s voice. Hear his lessons on respect, on how things should work in the department, how to interact with coworkers, superiors–even the awful ones. You turn to him, you look up, meet his icy blue eyes and repress a shiver. You forget to smile. Your slips stay pressed into a small line as you look at him, realizing that you are too close. You’re too close and you should back up but you can’t. Your breathing heavily, you realize Tim is too. He’s looking down at you with melting eyes. The frost, the coldness, seem to fade away as his hand flys to the back of your neck.

Your tongue darts out, wets your lips, and then his press to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, your body reacting to his touch while your mind hasn’t caught up. TimBradfordiskissingme. MyTOiskissingme. Those thoughts are the only ones that make it through the fog. The questions are satiated by how he’s making you feel. His lips are warm and soft, like his breath, when he pulls away for a moment, eyes boring into your own. “Is this–”

“Yes,” you say. It’s okay. It’ssookay. Betterthanokay.You nod a few times for clarification and one of his large hands lands on the small of your back, pressing you to him, the other moves beside your head as he pushes you against the wall, caging you in.

You’ve never been more okay with being trapped. By him, by his mouth.

His kisses were talking and when they stopped, he was ready to.

Staring down at you with a fast beating heart (no match for the rate your own was thumping in your chest at) he smiled back, for once. It was infectious. A grin split your face and you felt blissful, for a moment. Like you and Tim were the only two in the world, like nothing else mattered, like you were floating in a bubble, transcending your problems and surroundings.

It was a nice bubble, “I don’t hate you.”

Until he popped it. Until he reminded you of what had just happened, of what led to this and the conversation you had with Lucy–the one he overheard.

“I don’t hate you,” he said.

“I don’t believe you,” you blurt.

He raises a brow. His expression says ‘you don’t believe me? After that?’ and fair enough, because all you believe now is that you’re incredibly confused. Incredibly, very confused.

“You yell at me, you constantly talk about how I’m not ready to be a cop, you regularly threaten to give me blue pages and criticize what I do in my freetime–”

“None of that means I hate you.”

“It doesn’t make it seem like you like me! You get mad at me for smiling!”

“I don’t… okay, I get annoyed sometimes but it’s situational. When I’m reaming you out, you shouldn’t be smiling.”

“It’s that or cry! I don’t like being yelled at.”

“I don’t like when you put yourself at risk constantly. That’s why I yell, that’ why I reprimand you. You’ll make a damn good cop but no one wants you to make yourself a fucking martyr. No one wants you to put everything else–the job, a dog–above your own life! I get mad because I care,” he argues. Then lowly, “too damn much.”

“Bradford…”

“It’s Tim, to you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry anyone. I just…” you trail off, Tim still watching you closely. “I can’t not try to save someone. I became a cop to do good, to help people, not to hurt them, to shoot them, to arrest innocents and victims of circumstance. There’s enough awfulness in the world that I don't want to contribute. I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“I didn’t want to be a cop but it’s what my family does–I like the job now, but the way I work it, you know?”

“I get it. I do. You just need to be more careful. You weren’t even on the clock on that call,”

You’re not exactly sure which call he’s referencing. You’ve intervened a few too many times when you shouldn’t have been on duty. It’s how you have (as said by Grey) ‘a record number of arrests for your first year on the force’ because you don’t let injustice slide just because you’re not getting paid. That, and because you’re ridiculously nosey.

“What call?”

“With the drug dealer and that stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you scold. “Barnaby is far from stupid.”

“Barnaby?”

“Yeah. He was a stray so I kept and named him. We trauma bonded–no way I was letting him go to a shelter after that.”

“No, no, that makes sense. I’m just wondering how the hell you came up with Barnaby.

You shrug; it’s a good name.

“Bradford!” shouts Grey, “you in there?”

Tim walks towards the door, shouting back and confirming his presence.

“My office! There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Alright!” Tim turns to you, he mouths his goodbyes and slips from the room leaving you incredibly confused.

#the rookie x reader #the rookie fanfic #the rookie #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #idk how to tag this #SOMEONETEACHMEHOWTOWRITEMAKEOUTSCENESIBEG #fanfic asks #send asks

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poomphuripan · 2 months ago

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UpPoom rumored series for WeTV - Love of Silom

Director: Pepzi Banchorn Vorasataree

Screenwriter: Violet Rain (author of I Feel You Linger In The Air novel)

Synopsis: Kari is a handsome young police officer from a family of Chinese descent. He is deeply filial and obedient to his parents. Outwardly, he complies with his father's wishes by enrolling in the Police Academy to follow in his father's footsteps as a senior officer in the National Police Bureau. However, Kari never truly wanted to become a police officer. Due to his loyalty to his parents, he never disobeys their commands, even feeling guilty about smoking if his mother catches him.

His family strongly opposes same-sex relationships, with his father even threatening to harm him if he dates a man. As a result, Kari keeps his relationship with his boyfriend secret. Despite this, their love remains strong. Kari works hard to support his boyfriend's dream of becoming an idol, but after his boyfriend achieves success, he cruelly abandons Kari. Heartbroken, Kari becomes cold and disinterested in love. Wayu is a good-looking young student burdened by severe family problems. Neglected by his parents, he takes care of his younger sister, who later runs off with another man after becoming pregnant, leaving the child with Wayu. Forced to take responsibil- ity, Wayu starts working at a nightclub recommended by an acquaintance. One day, during an altercation with a client, Kari rescues him, marking the beginning of their relationship.

For the first time, Wayu feels warmth and admiration for Kari. Determined to see him again, he frequently visits the police station. Kari, at first, views Wayu indifferently, but over time, he starts encouraging Wayu through family hardships, leading to deeper conversations and mutual comfort. Though their relationship progresses slowly, they find solace in each other.

source - rumored to be announced at the upcoming Line-up WeTV Original 2025 on Dec 5

#uppoom #up poompat #my stand in #poom phuripan #pepzi banchorn #violet rain #i feel you linger in the air

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cherriegyuu · 1 year ago

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red | csc

pairing: seungcheol x f!readergenre: smutword count: 1.6kwarnings: minors do not interact, kissing, a little bit of dirty talking, swearing, oral (male), masturbation (female), unprotected sex (please wrap it up kids), sort ot public sex, car sexa/n: not entirely sure how this one happened but here we are i guess. this was not how the story was supposed to go, i had different plans and maybe i'll write them later. if you filled the form to be tagged in my fics but was not tagged for this one, it means that you are either a minor or i didn't find your age anywhere in your blog.

this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from red (ts)

Seungcheol ➝ Red Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly↳ the sight of seungcheol driving had always been your favorite but when both of you were trying to escape while being chased down by the police, you couldn't help but make things a little more… interesting

“Baby, no, you can’t be serious” Seungcheol complained, his voice a weird mixture of moan and groan as he looked between the road and your hand that was dangerously close to the waist of his jeans.

He looked at you again, but your eyes were focused on the rear windscreen, a small smile playing on your lips as the cops struggled to follow along. Clearly, the police academy should provide driving lessons, because there was no way those men were actually that bad at driving.

“It’s going to be fun” you whispered against his skin.

You pressed your lips over his jawline, right where it connected with his ear, going down his neck, lightly biting into his skin. Your kisses trailed down his neck until his collarbone, where you pressed them over his sweet spot, sucking his skin hard enough to leave a mark.

You enjoyed knowing that his skin was marked by you. It was only fair that he too carried marks after leaving a few of them himself all over your body. It had been hard to explain to your sister, ever so naive, how you had gotten those bruises. She saw you as sincere enough, pure enough, to believe that some of it had been due to your clumsy nature. Good thing she never saw the ones right above your panties and the two on your inner thighs.

“We're going to get caught”

Seungcheol had always been the first one to throw any sort of caution out the window and he was never one to tell you no. If you wanted something, it was yours. If he didn't have what you wanted, he was sure to get it for you. So when you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand in, pushing his underwear and pants down just enough to set his semi-hard cock free, Seungcheol didn't complain.

His words of caution had been a lot more for you than for him. You had been his quiet and shy girl, who sometimes got scared when the cars were too loud. He wasn't certain when that new version of you had come out, but he knew he liked it a lot.

Truth be told, it wasn't really a new version of you, but a you that was only his to see and know about.

“Do you really want Kyle back there to see me choke on your dick?” you pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth “Imagine the view he's going to get… my ass in this tiny skirt in the air, you dick in my mouth, my eyes filled with tears because you're too big to fit into my mouth but I want to take you all way”

God, he loved it when your mouth got a little dirty.

Seungcheol grabbed your hair, pushing your head down into his cock. You smiled, finally happy that he had given it. You loved that he was willing to pull back but also loved that he didn't hesitate to say yes to you sucking him off.

You licked him, from the base to tip. Your hand pumped him once, twice, three times. A fourth one just for good measure, to be certain that he was almost fully hard before you took him into your mouth.

The moan that left Seungcheol's lips caused a wave of tingles to dance through your body, all the way to your core and you couldn’t help but moan too.

The sounds he made while you sucked him had always turned you on. So to have him driving — probably your favorite thing about him — and moaning for you, while his hand was tangled in your hair, forcing your head down until his dick touched the back of your throat turned you on in ways that you didn't think were possible.

You had never been one for public sex. Not just public, but anywhere near someone else, or where someone else could hear the faintest sound. But with Seungcheol all of your inhibitions had been left behind and he was all that you could see and feel and want.

He went from the hot driver who helped you escape an illegal race, to the hot driver/boyfriend you were sucking off while being chased down by the cops.

“Balls too” you managed to pull back long enough to say.

You pushed Seuncheol's jeans a little further down, glad he was willing to help by raising him hips just enough. Once all of him was out for you, you leaned over him again. Your hand was on his cock while your mouth was busy a little more down.

He let out a grunt when you grazed him with your teeth, moaning again when you took him again. His hand was back in your hair, maybe it had never even left, guiding you up and down, at the pace he liked the most. As if you didn't know it already, as if you hadn't memorized it.

“I love your mouth, so much,” he said, holding your head down “You take me so well, baby”

Tears started to form in the corner of your eyes, spit Dripping out and coating all of him. You snaked your free hand into your soaked panties, needing some sort of pressure too. You moaned when the tip of your middle finger grazed your clit, the tiniest bit of stimulation enough to make your head almost spin.

“Are you touching yourself, baby?” whichever incoherent sound left your mouth was enough of confirmation to Seungcheol “I bet you're pulsing around nothing, begging to be filled. Ready for me”

You moaned again, rubbing your clit a little more desperately than before. If you were going to get Seungcheol to his release, it was only fair that you got some sort of your own too.

Seungcheol looked at the rearview mirror for a second, when he reached the exit he was looking for, opting to get away from the main road. Those cops weren't aware of the alternative road, so you were almost out of any danger — if such a thing had even existed, for a moment at least.

He pulled you up, his hand on your jaw. He loved to turn you into a mess, with tear-stained cheeks and spit all over you. Your hand never left your pussy when he pulled you to him. He kissed you for a second, doing his best to keep the car moving, still on the road.

“Come ride me” he whispered against your lips.

Your eyes gleamed and you moved, pulling your skirt up and shoving your panties to the side. Seungcheol pushed his seat back, as far as he could go, to make room for you.

The position was a little awkward but it didn't matter as you angled his tip with your entrance, slowly coming down on him.

A long moan left your lips, until he was all the way inside you. You loved the burning sensation he always gave you, almost as if he was too much, like he wasn't going to fit in you. But he always did.

“How are you even tighter?” he moaned, his mind going blank for a second at the overwhelming feeling of taking you in public, of you riding him, of how your pussy sucked him in in desperation, of taking you bare.

Slowly, like torture, to started to move up and down, as much as you could. You moved your hips up, until he almost completely out and then let yourself fall into him.

“Cheol” you begged, for what it was uncertain.

You wanted, needed, all of him, all over you.

“Take it, baby, it's yours”

Your moves became frantic, a mixture of bouncing on him, while grinding on him, searching for as much friction as you possibly could.

Seuncheol moved your hand from his neck to your pussy, pressing your own fingers to open yourself up even further, giving you more room for friction.

“Cheol…” you moaned again, your voice louder as you moved over him “You're so so deep like this”

He no longer could take it. He pulled the car to the side of the road. The police had long been left behind and he had gotten to the point of not caring anymore. You were over him, almost on breaking point. He cared about getting you off, about seeing your eyes roll as your orgasm took over.

“I got you, baby,” he said while kissing you “I've got you”

Seungcheol held your hips and started to pound into you at a relentless pace. He wanted to chase his high while giving you yours.

You moaned into his shoulder when he pressed a hand to your groin at the same time you started to rub your clit again, matching his pace.

“Cum with me, baby”

His words sent your body into a frenzy, your orgasm taking over as your entire body shook. Seungcheol swallowed all of your incoherent moans and words, his high following yours. He only stopped moving when all that was left was the small spams on your legs.

You leaned your head back when Seunchheol tugged at your hair. He loved that expression on you, when you were completely fucked out and pleased. He liked knowing that he had made it happen.

“Hi” he whispered

You laughed a little, your eyes still closed.

“So sex while the cops chase us turns you on, huh?” he said kissing your neck, enjoying the small goosebumps erupting on your skin “Fully noted”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @byunparklimchoi, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck

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risuola · 3 months ago

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IX, FINALE — HAPPINESS...? // F. READER x TOBIRAMA SENJU

With Tobirama you learned the true meaning of happiness, of belonging, of love. He had shown you the life you had only dreamt of, he gave you a chance to become a mother. With him, you wanted to grow old.

contents: angst, tissues might me needed, major character death — 1,3k words

a/n: with that, I'm closing this story. I want to thank you guys so, so much for supporting it. when I began writing it years ago, I thought it will be just for myself and then, when I decided to publish the first part of it, I never, ever, expected it to be so well received. I thought that Tobirama isn't a character that's liked and I'm so happy I decided to post it. I'm sorry for all the delays and waiting. thank you ❥

POLITICALLY LOVELESS || SERIES MASTERLIST

Despair.

You have not gotten to know the real meaning of the word before, despite the rocky youth in your home village and everything life threw at you. It was an odd concept, one that you were gladly avoiding for all the years you spent in the world and instead of hurting and sadness, you basked in the happiness of your existence. With friends, with family, with people who cherished you.

With Tobirama, you have found joy. A bliss of belonging, the love that made you feel like you were walking on clouds and sunshine. He was a man of stoicism and calmness, a pillar of justice and cold-calculation, but you managed to break through the layers of protective aloofness, tear off the impassive armor and nestle yourself within his chest. You’ve got him in love. And you were in love too. Truly. Completely.

And then, when your son came to the world, you thought you’ve found everything you could ever wish for. Kazuki was a blessing, a baby created of you and your beloved Tobirama. A boy, whose name you chose to represent the hope and love you shared, the dreams and pride. And it was beautiful, to nurture the little human, to support his growth into an excellent human and watch him develop the features of both you and the Senju. You remember the way your husband cared for him, with delicate hands and warm smiles — just as he would tend to you. Because he loved you, with all his heart, even though he not always was capable of showing that. You knew more than words could ever express. You knew his heart through and through, could read it like an open book.

You watched your baby grow up. You remember the days when you’d visit Tobirama in his office, to bring him food and kisses, all while carrying your little treasure in your arms. Kazuki would always squeal happily, reaching his little hands towards his dada, demanding the cuddles and smooches. And without fail, your husband’s face would brighten up at the sight of you. Every single time. There was no document more important than you and his son, there was no meeting he wouldn’t stop just to spend a moment with his beloved family. You were spoiled by him and with all your might, you aimed to spoil him too.

Then, the boy began training with his father and you were there to support both of them, to kiss scraped knees and bring rice balls and snacks. You were there to watch your son learn new techniques, you helped him with weapons and jutsus. With a heart full of love and admiration, you observed how your precious boy played with Kagami, how they trained together and spent time as if they were siblings joined by blood. It was beautiful. It was a dream.

It had to be a nightmare.

Despair has never been a feeling you truly experienced. Why would you? You had all you could possibly want. A beautiful house, a garden, a village you could call your home. You had a beautiful child and a loving husband. Tobirama. He has shielded you from feelings akin to sorrow. You didn’t even know it, but everything he did was to secure your future in safety. The ninja academy, the ANBU, even the police that was run by Uchihas. In Senju’s mind, you were the main reason to continue living, to continue striving towards the best outcomes. You and Kazuki. Two parts of his heart.

This couldn’t be true.

You remembered the days that were careless. You’d wake up in his arms as Sunday’s sun filtered through the curtains. You’d inhale the scent of his skin — a fresh rain and musk — and then kiss his cheeks enough times to make up for all the time you couldn’t do it when he wore his usual face paints. Then, your son would join you, jumping onto the bed and nudging between you two, giggling with this beautiful youthful innocence that you wished with your entire heart to protect for as long as possible. You’d cuddle for a while, whisper-talking about sweet little nothings as he’d play with your hair, keeping you in his protective embrace. Oh, you’d wish to go back to those days. Those Sundays, those hours spent in your little corner of the world, sound and filled with joy, with the birds singing outside and the scent of laundry in the air.

No.

Or the days when it rained. Tobirama loved the sound of rain, the droplets pitter-pattering against the windows in the late evenings. You loved those moments too, when you’d melt against his chest, with a herbal aroma of tea filling the room and the warmth of his body so close to yours. He would tell you all about his day, the decisions he had to make as hokage, the improvements of his students, the funny stories from the trainings. He would kiss your head over and over again and sigh in content, as you basked in his touch. And then, the calm would be broken by the sound of the doors snapping open — soaked in rain, Kazuki would run inside along with Kagami, both laughing and panting as they quickly shed the damp vests and muddy shoes. The life would come back to the house, along with the chaos that you wouldn’t give up for any treasures of the world because you already had what’s most precious. On those days, you’d fall asleep late, after drying the boys, feeding and tucking them to bed. It’s just then, after you’d make sure both Kagami and Kazuki were asleep and give them both few gentle forehead kisses, when you’d allow yourself once more to melt into Tobirama’s embrace.

You thought that there’s no way in the world you’d ever survive without the feeling of cuddling to your husband. He’s became the air you needed to breathe, the blood that’s needed for your heart to beat. He’s became everything, your pride, your soulmate, your lover and the father of your child. He was a person you couldn’t wait to grow old with.

No, please.

“He volunteered to be a decoy. We couldn’t– I couldn’t stop him.”

There was nothing hard to understand in the simple sentence that was delivered to you by Kagami. You watched him, your eyes absentmindedly following the tears that run down his cheeks as he trembled in front of you. The other ninjas that knelt behind him had their heads hanging low but it was easy to tell some of them were crying.

Your husband was gone.

In an instinct, you took the Uchiha to yourself, hugging the young boy to your heart as if you were his own mother — because partially, you were as close to him as that. He hugged you tightly, whispering apologies like a broken cassette and you rocked him softly, back and forth, telling him it’s okay and kissing his temple. You told him that it’s okay, all while your own heart was breaking to pieces.

So that’s the feeling.

Despair was something you have not experienced until you watched the coffin being covered with sand. Until you watched your husband being buried right in front of your eyes. Tobirama died, sacrificing himself to save the youth, to stop the enemy, to save you and your son — Kazuki, who clung to your body, crying his eyes out as the burial took place. Who cried for weeks after and whom you cried with, even though you tried to be strong. For him and for the man that took your heart down to his grave.

Because of Tobirama, you have learned the meaning of true happiness. Of love and belonging, of bliss and joy.

Because of Tobirama, you have got to experience being a mother and raising a child.

And because of Tobirama, you have learned the meaning of true despair.

taglist: @garouaddict @bluebreadenthusiast @nelivv @drthymby @humongousdreamlandbear @darlingxoxo15 @gaozorous-rex-blog @hanamisofficialspouse @claireshelby @min-aaa @thenightperson

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bvidzsoo · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

↳ MS stands for Mini-series; S for Series; 18+ for anything that contains mature themes; F for Fluff; A for Angst; you’ll find warnings at the start of each one-shot

☆ Drive to survive ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; Formula One Racer AU; Red Bull driver AU ☆ You belong to me ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; mobster AU; Joker/Harley vibes ☆ I know you want me ↳ [F; A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; enemies AU; police reader AU ☆ Is Santa the new Cupid? ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; holiday themed AU; office romance AU; mutual pinning AU; bother's best friend AU ☆ Through your colours ↳ [F;A]; non-idol AU, slice of life AU, barista x artist AU, strangers to lovers AU

☆ Lust we both share ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; vampire AU; enemies to lovers AU ☆ Your desire ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; sugar daddy AU; university AU ☆ Take me to Paris... ↳ [F; A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; single mother AU ☆ Obliviate Me ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; Harry Potter AU; lovers to enemies AU; tragic love AU ☆ Sugar on my lips ↳ [F, suggestive]: non-idol AU; university AU; sports AU; 90's romcom; enemies to lovers AU

☆ Who am I? ↭ Part 2 ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; university AU; bad boy AU; gang AU ☆ From people you know, to people you don't ↳ [A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; lovers to exes to aqcuittances AU ☆ bf!Yunho instagram stories ↳ [F]; smau; idol AU; boyfriend AU ☆ Above the world ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; Spiderman AU, strangers to lovers AU, highschool AU ☆ Under the pretense ↳ [F, suggestive]: non-idol AU; university AU; sports AU; 90's romcom; enemies to lovers AU ☆ How beautiful you are ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; Jane Austen AU; 1770 AU; enemies to lovers AU ☆ Thousand Miles, just to get you back ↳ [A;F]; non-idol AU; Hunger Games AU; rivals to lovers!au ☆ Take your breath away ↳ [A;F;18+]; non-idol AU; Academy AU; werewolf AU; mates AU; unrequited love-ish AU ☆ The trace of you ↳ [A;F]; non-idol AU, psychiatrist x patient AU, forbidden love AU, mutual pining AU ☆ You can run but you can't hide ↳ [+18;A]; non-idol AU; vampire hunter x vampire AU; enemies to lovers AU; modern time setting, doctor!reader, cop!Yunho

☆ Take Control ↳ [A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; reader is a gang member

☆ Your worst mistake... ↳ [A;F]; non-idol AU; Hunger Games AU; stylist San AU & victor reader AU; forbidden love AU

☆ Grease and Oil ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; car mechanic AU; mutual pining AU ☆ Love Me Like A Rockstar ↳ [S;A;F;18+]; non-idol AU; enemies to lovers AU; university AU; rockstar AU; he fell first, but she fell harder AU ☆ Forget-me-not ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; illegal racing AU; enemies to lovers AU ☆ Love you, forever ↳ [A;F]; non-idol AU; boyfriend AU; university AU ☆ Preying on you tonight ↳ [A;F;18+]; non-idol AU; Academy AU; werewolf AU; vampire AU; enemies to lovers AU; mates AU ☆ bf!Mingi instagram stories ↳ [F]; smau; non-idol AU; boyfriend AU ☆ Cold Red Iron ↳ [18+, humour]; non-idol AU; Iron Man AU; workplace AU; enemies to something more AU ☆ Haunted me, haunting you ↳ [A;F]; non-idol AU; Hunger Games AU; victor AU; acquittances since childhood to lovers AU ☆ Your little monster ↳ [18+]; non-idol!au, mafia!au, established relationship!au, mafia reader!au, Harley Quinn x Joker inspired relationship ☆ Every time I see you... ↳ [18+;F;A]; non-idol AU; slice of life AU; established situationship AU

☆ Daemonium ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; demon AU; crack AU; dormmate AU; university AU ☆ I'll go animal to keep you next to me ↳ [A]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; stalker AU; university AU; strangers to enemies AU

☆ Shameless ↳ [18+]; non-idol AU; mafia AU; marriage of convenience AU; established relationship AU

☆ Black Ocean ↳ [S; A; F; 18+]; non-idol AU; pirate AU; siren AU ☆ bf!ateez drunk texting you while they're out with the boys ↳ [F, suggestive]; non-idol AU; smau; boyfriend AU ☆ best friend!ateez texting you about tomorrow's exam they have forgotten about ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; smau; best friend AU ☆ drunk texting bff!Ateez and accidentally confessing you're into them ↳ [nsfw]; non-idol AU, smau, best friends to lovers AU ☆ accidentally texting fwb!ateez about the hook-up ↳ [nsfw]; non-idol AU, smau, friends with benefits AU ☆ texting fiancé!ateez about their Coachella performance as you weren't able to attend it ↳ [F]; idol AU, smau, fiancé AU, Coachella AU lol ☆ Beyond the Obscure ↳ [S;A;F;18+]; non-idol AU; royal AU; assassin AU; fae AU; fantasy AU ☆ Cosmically divine ↳ [S;18+;A;F]; non-idol AU; Greek mythology AU ☆ ATEEZ as dads ↳ [F]; non-idol AU; parents AU, scenarios AU ☆ The Games ↳ [A;F;S]; non-idol AU; Hunger Games AU

☆ Devil!Hongjoong ☆ Vampire!Seonghwa ► Slow it down �� Park Seonghwa ► Summer Lovin' → Jung Wooyoung ► Does he know? → Choi San ► Love made me crazy → Choi Jongho ► Sweeter than honey → Jeong Yunho ► Stern, but sweet → Choi San ► Cherry Blossoms → Song Mingi ☆ Boyfriend!Wooyoung → Jung Wooyoung

❀ join my permanent taglist here

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havendance · 1 year ago

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Anyway, my proposal for a run on Detective Comics where I write a series of one-shot stories showcasing all of the various supporting cast Batman has accumulated with stories, including, but not limited to:

Batman invites Nightwing to Gotham to help him solve a murder. The murder is very straightforward and they dance around the real reason Bruce invited him, until at the end, he finally admits in a constipated Bruce way that it's the anniversary of him adopting Dick and he wanted to spend time with him.

Huntress and Robin (Tim Drake) team up to investigate Killer Croc. It turns out he's turning over a new leaf in the sewers near the Marina. Huntress is dubious, but Robin convinces her to give him a chance, though she says she'll be watching him. We re-canonize Joker: Last Laugh.

Damian and Duke team up to take on a street-racing operation--a mission that naturally requires them to do some high adrenaline racing together.

The Riddler gets on social media with a plot that involves lots of puzzles and clues all over Gotham. Oracle taps into old members of "We are Robin" to take it down.

Batgirl (Stephanie Brown) and Batman end up on the same missing persons case. With the pressure on to find the missing child, they snipe at each other as tensions rise. In the end, after saving the kid, Bruce sort of kind of apologizes in a Bruce way and expresses some measure of respect for her.

Jason teams up with Ghostmaker to take on, idk, one of the Clayfaces. Does Gotham still have one of those? I haven't read any comics ghostmaker's in yet, but from I've heard it sounds like they'd have an interesting dynamic. Jason gets flashbacks to digging his way out of his grave.

Luke Fox recruites Harper Row (She does engineering stuff right? I also need to read comics she has a significant role in.) They take some new tech for a joyride and go bother the Penguin.

Batgirl (Cassandra Cain) and Azrael team up to take down Mad Hatter. He probably has some elaborate Alice in Wonderland theming going on that neither of them get. (I think neither of them should have read it.)

Batwoman and Catwoman team up to steal back some Kane family heirlooms, possibly from Jacob Kane (What's his and Kate's relationship looking like anyway?), possibly from someone else.

Gotham Girl and somebody. Me advancing my Cass & Claire agenda Possibly Oracle trying to rehabilitate her in that controlling yet well-intentioned way she has sometimes? Someday, I will get to being more up to date on what Claire's status quo in current comics is.

A handful of representatives from Gotham's various crime families get together in the backroom of a bar somewhere. They play poker and exchange stories of being busted by the various bat-affiliated vigilantes in which they are very scary and almost inhuman. It ends with Batgirl (Cass) busting in and beating them up.

Helena Bertinelli takes a gig as a substitute teacher at Gotham Academy. She teams up with Maps & other supporting cast when Mr Freeze takes the school hostage while trying to escape the police.

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Smoke Eater - Epilogue

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: We made it, friends. 🥹

Word Count: 2,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff and feels, that is all.

Epilogue: “Easy as Pie”

The week after the incident at Stull Storage, John, Sam, Dean, and Eileen sat down to a family dinner that you cooked in the brothers’ apartment. Aside from Eileen, all of you had injuries in one form or another (but even Sam’s shiner was healing up nicely).

For dessert, you were a bit nervous as you brought out a freshly baked apple pie. Dean caught you mentally bracing yourself before you set it down on the table. He shot you a reassuring smile.

“Looks great,” he said.

Your returning smile was tentative as you divvied out the first piece. Dean was just a bit disappointed when you handed it to John. His eyes followed the plate.

You smiled more genuinely, and made sure the next generous piece you cut was for your boyfriend.

After everyone was served, you sat down with your own plate and encouraged them all to dig in. Forks hit the crumbly top and cinnamon apple filling, and there were collective hums of pleasure throughout the room.

You brightened and glanced over at the rest of the table. John looked contemplative. His fork rested on the plate for a moment.

He gave a rare smile. “That’s some damn good pie.”

Sam nodded. “For sure.”

Dean looked over at you after he’d already demolished half of his serving. A smile spread across his face.

“Best slice of pie since I can remember,” he said, giving you a wink.

Both of you knew the weight of that review. It humbled you, making you blush.

You smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, rough with stubble.

“I guess this recipe’s a keeper then,” you said.

He hummed in agreement. When he went in for a real kiss, it was sweet indeed.

From then on, you all spent the evening talking, eating, laughing, with you and Sam drinking wine and everyone else their beer. You updated them on Andréa and Benny, who were planning their trip to Greece in a few months.

"We should take a vacation," Dean pointed out, gesturing around the table. "All of us."

Sam raised his brows at his brother. "Oh yeah? Where would you wanna go?"

Dean thought about it for a moment. He glanced at you, and found you smiling.

"The beach," he said. "Somewhere warm and chill, with those fancy little umbrellas in your drink."

"Hmm...I like that," you said, as your smile grew. Tropical, relaxing, a warm sun on your face, and your boyfriend in some board shorts. You could definitely go for some of that.

"Sounds nice," Eileen agreed.

"I'll look into some destinations," Sam nodded. Dean nudged his brother's shoulder.

"One word, dude. Maui."

Sam snorted. "We can't afford Maui."

"Hey, you never know, man! Time to check out some Groupons."

"You can't get a Groupon to go to Hawaii," Sam said. His face was scrunched in what Dean liked to call, his "Know It All" face.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean shot back. "There's a friggin' Groupon for everything nowadays!"

Of course, that devolved into a familiar sibling argument that was only disrupted when John broke into the conversation. He admitted something shocking—that he was taking some time off work, for the first time since he took his sons camping when they were kids. Sam and Dean teased the workaholic for finally "slowing down" in his old age, but it was all in good fun.

You and Eileen shared a knowing look. It all felt as close to family as you’d had in a long time.

And for Dean, it felt like he could breathe again. He’d gotten a text shortly after dessert—from Cas.

Jo made it into the Police Academy. She starts training in a few weeks.

Dean’s lips quirked with a smile.

How do you know?

I’ll be instructing a couple of her classes. Firearm Safety and Weapons Training.

Dean nearly laughed.

Good luck, buddy. Try not to get your ass shot.

To which Cas replied:

My ass will be nowhere within range, I assure you.

Dean did chuckle at that. When you turned to him and asked what was so funny, he just shook his head and grabbed onto your hand on the table.

“Nothin’. I’m good,” he said. He pressed your knuckles to his lips. “I’m real good.”

You smiled at that.

Later that night, Dean walked his father to the door while you and Sam were locked in a trivia game, and Eileen tried to play mediator between two very competitive nerds.

“Dad,” Dean said.

John stopped with a hand on the door, turning back to his eldest.

Dean paused to gather his thoughts, but he eventually grasped his father’s arm and met his gaze.

“Just wanted to say thank you, for what you did for her,” he said, discreetly nodding at you. He kept his voice quiet. “You protected her when I couldn’t.”

John paused, seeming surprised. His brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, son,” he said.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean insisted. He’d heard every bit of that conversation between John and Daniel in that warehouse. His father had been willing to lay down and die for you, not a moment’s hesitation.

Cas was right, Dean had realized. His father did have a line.

John let out a breath. “What matters is we made it here.”

Dean nodded, though he dimmed.

“Yeah, came with one hell of a price tag.”

It still weighed heavily on him, what he’d had to do to end Daniel Savage. In the end, John had lied on his statement of the events. He’d taken responsibility for grabbing Daniel’s gun and shooting him between the eyes.

“It’s the only thing I can do to keep you out of this,” John had told his son. “Should’ve been my hand anyway.”

Dean appreciated what his dad had done to protect him from the law, and his career, but it still made him feel dirty. A strike to his integrity as a first responder, and as a man. That was something he’d just have to deal with, along with everything else.

John distracted him, however, by gripping his shoulder this time.

“You saved my life, Dean,” he said. And with a hint of a smile, “It’s what you’re good at.”

Dean met his dad’s gaze. He wasn’t quite able to smile back, but there was new warmth in his chest.

“Oh,” said John, raising a finger. “Before I forget…”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver engagement ring with a small stone. To Dean, it looked familiar…

When it finally struck him what this was, he looked up at John in surprise. Dean glanced back to make sure you weren’t looking before he tentatively took the ring.

“Is this…Mom’s?” he asked.

John nodded. “The stone’s nothing special. You might wanna get it reset. Sam already figured out his uh…situation on his own. Maybe you want to find your own too.”

Dean knew what he meant. Sam had bought a ring last year, but he'd proposed to Eileen just a few days ago. They were already planning to get married a year from now, along with buying their first house together.

Dean examined the ring he held with a softer smile.

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he said.

He didn’t know yet if you two were ready for that step. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time…but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

He had time to do things right with you.

A few months later, Dean’s medical leave ended. He was physician-approved for duty, psych evaluation and all. He showed up for his shift bright and early.

He entered the doors of Firehouse 25 to a host of his friends and makeshift family cheering, complete with cheesy streamers and an even cheesier cake that Meg held. On the top was scrawled: Good Job Cracking Your Head.

“A smoke eater returns to the house!” Benny remarked with a grin. “Good to see ya, brother.”

He clapped Dean heavily enough on the back that it earned a grunt and a laugh out of him.

“You too, man,” Dean replied.

Meg set down the cake on the table and was the next one to playfully punch him in the shoulder.

“You have a nice little vacation?” she teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, complete with bottomless margaritas and little umbrellas.”

She smirked, but she was still earnest when she touched his arm.

“Welcome back.”

Dean chuckled. “Ooh, now I know you missed me.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she waved a dismissive hand at him. Chuck and Jack gave more sincere well wishes, with the latter actually hugging Dean. He’d tolerated it with a smile.

Gordon clapped him on the shoulder once Jack was finally done, and Dean sent the Candidate off with a bright smile on his face.

Gordon smiled. “Welcome back, Lieutenant.”

Dean nodded and shook the other man’s hand. “Thanks for holdin’ down the fort, man.”

“No problem,” Gordon said. “Any time you wanna go on sabbatical, you just let me know. Acting Lieutenant’s almost better than the real deal. It’s not as much paperwork.”

Dean chuckled, but before he could sling back a retort, the alarm went off. There was a working house fire downtown, according to the dispatcher in the overhead speaker.

Bobby appeared in the hall and clapped his hands once.

“All right, gear up. We’re startin’ off the day right,” he said. He gave Dean a look that was somehow both pleased to see him and stern at the same time. Bobby addressed him with a point of his finger.

“See me in my office before the end of shift,” he said. “We’ve got somethin’ to talk about.”

A few days later, Dean had the rare pleasure of welcoming you home from work on his day off. You trudged into the apartment with several bags and rolling a cooler behind you. He got up from the couch and grabbed some of the bags for you on your way to the kitchen.

“How did it go?” he asked, reaching out a hand to rub some flour off your cheek. You smiled brightly.

“Well, there was a little snafu with the mini quiche, but they loved the menu I proposed. They want me to cater the whole wedding!” you said.

“Whoa, that’s a lotta food,” Dean remarked. Once you’d dumped the rest of your stuff on the kitchen table, he slid an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, earning a squeal from you.

You clung to his shoulders. “You still on for being my official taste tester?”

He stared at you with mock offense.

“Uh, obviously. Mini quiche are my weakness,” he teased. “Just another form of pie, far as I’m concerned.”

You giggled into his lips as he claimed you for a kiss. It was both sweet, and a bit naughty as his hands moved to squeeze your ass. His words were no less heartfelt.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” Dean said. “I really am.”

You smiled and stroked his cheek in answer.

The Monday morning after that family dinner a few months ago, you’d quit your job at Savage & Co. After a month of wracking your brain and your savings, you decided to start your own catering business.

It was your way of starting small, to try and get people in this town to know you for your food and baked goods. And maybe, if you were successful enough, you’d be able to open up your own bakery in a couple of years.

For once, you were going after what you truly wanted…but now, your career was only part of it.

You hadn’t forgotten your conversation with Dean about what he wanted for his future: of getting married someday, and having a family. Something he could build for himself.

Not only did you want that for him, but you’d begun to crave that for yourself as well: a family of your own.

Realistically, you knew that part was years away for you and Dean. However, you had that in the back of your mind. Having your own business had always been your dream, but sometimes your dream could adjust.

Or, it could become something new.

You’d also sold your grandparents’ house. You had contemplated going back, but you didn’t want to be reminded of how the police and the Arson Department had torn it apart after Daniel Savage threatened your life. You didn’t want to be reminded of where both of your grandparents died.

You loved that house, but you also knew it was time to let it go…

Because you finally understood what your grandfather had tried to tell you months ago.

A house did not make a home. And now, you’d managed to make a new one.

For his part, Dean had been happy to have you stay in his apartment. Sam was getting ready to move out in a few months anyway, as he and Eileen were deep into house hunting and planning their wedding.

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he held your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little.

“They want to promote me to Captain,” he said.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes went wide.

“They? Who’s they?” you asked.

Dean blew out a breath and scratched at the small scar on the side of his head.

“Apparently it came from the Battalion Chief.”

He explained that the Fire Department had gotten the full debrief from both Sam and John about Dean’s involvement in ending the serial arsons and murders committed by Nick and Daniel Savage. Without you and Dean, they wouldn’t have figured out Azazel’s identity, let alone stopped his criminal enterprise.

You smiled wide with excitement as you held Dean’s face in your hands.

“That’s amazing!” you said. You pulled him in for a hug. Though he held you back, you soon realized that you were happier than he seemed to be. You pulled back and carded your fingers through his hair, earning his gaze.

“What’s wrong, baby? This is great news!”

Dean’s lips pursed. “I don’t know. I broke ranks and defied a direct order at the Savage & Co. fire. And at the warehouse, I was even more reckless. I don’t want to be promoted for disobeying orders.”

You frowned at that, even as you continued to stroke through his hair.

“What did Bobby tell you?” you asked.

Once again, Dean sighed. He’d been called into Bobby’s office a few days ago, after his first shift back at 25.

He’d surprised the hell out of Dean.

“Did you break ranks that day, and put not just yourself, but Benny and the rest of your men in danger?” Bobby said. “You bet your ass.”

Dean averted his gaze. He stood with his hands drawn behind his back, willing to take whatever punishment the Chief saw fit.

“But,” Bobby continued. His fingers tapped on his desk, where he sat on the edge across from Dean. “It wasn’t fair of me to stop you from lookin’ for your girlfriend.”

Dean’s attention sharpened at that, and he frowned in confusion. Bobby didn’t apologize. Ever.

“Sir?” Dean asked uncertainly.

Bobby softened the slightest bit. He heaved a sigh.

The man was a widower, but he still wore his wedding ring. He toyed with it now on his finger.

“We could’ve radioed in with the other teams already at work. I could’ve paired half of your team with the top floor units. But in the heat of the moment, I made a judgment call,” Bobby said, leveling Dean with a look. “As a leader, you’ll continue makin’ mistakes. You’ll make the wrong call. It’s how you learn to keep leading that matters. And there ain’t a person in this house that wouldn’t have gone up to pull your fool head outta that fire.”

Dean stayed quiet in his discomfort. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Bobby was telling him all of this.

“That being said, this is coming from the top,” Bobby said. His gruffness was back. He took a folder off his desk and handed it to Dean. “Here’s the next step, if you choose to accept it.”

You were crying by the end of his story. Dean cupped your cheek and caught your tears with his thumb. You grabbed that hand and gently squeezed.

“He believes in you, Dean,” you said. “So do I. And it’s my turn to be so damn proud of you.”

Dean graced you with a smile for that one. Yours brightened. You moved off the couch and slid into his lap, twining your arms around his neck. Dean welcomed you with an arm around your waist and a hand sliding up your jean-clad thigh.

“Guess I’m gonna have to get used to calling you Captain,” you said with a smirk.

Captain Winchester, Dean considered, rolling the weight of it around in his mind.

He chuckled. “Okay, maybe I'm liking the sound of that.”

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought,” you said, shortly before you pressed your lips to his. He squeezed your hip while your deft fingers once again slipped into his hair. With each new kiss, Dean felt more of his uncertainty melt away.

A new thought occurred to him then. It made him start to grin against your lips, and you parted from him.

“What?” you asked in amusement.

Dean slipped a hand into his pocket, where he felt the outline of his mother’s newly resized ring.

“Hey,” he said. Your brows drew together in suspicion at the gleam in his eye.

“Hey, yourself,” you quipped.

Dean breathed in deep, steeling himself. He looked into your eyes, and he smiled.

“I’ve got a question for you.”

AN: ...And I think we all know what her answer was. ❤️‍🔥

I can't believe it! I started posting this story on September 15, the beginning of Hispanic Heritage Month. Almost four months later, we finally made it to the end of Smoke Eater. 🥹

Thank you to all of you who've been following along at any point of the journey. Your comments and feedback have truly touched me, and have helped keep me going! 💕

Read the Sequel Story:

Ready for more Smoke Eater?

Here's Something Real:

Summary: Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

▶️ Keep Reading: Something Real

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways

#Easy as Pie #Smoke Eater #Epilogue #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #john winchester #sam winchester #Castiel #zepskies writes

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miryum · 5 months ago

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"The Box"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“I'm Lex Luthor.” A man strode into the precinct and rapped a fist on Damian’s desk. He was wearing a crisp suit and his bald head had been shined. “Detective L/n asked me to drop by.”

Damian’s eyes flickered up to the man before going back to his origami knives. He had found a new tutorial on YouTube that promised sharper cuts. “Mm, yes. The CEO who murdered someone. Spoiler alert: they think you did it.” He flagged down another officer. “Duke, can you show him to interrogation room C, please?” He waved to Lex and snickered. “Have fun in there.”

“Thank you.” Luthor drew his lips into a thin line.

A couple minutes later, Captain Wayne stood by Y/n as they watched Lex Luthor behind a two-way mirror. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“How uncomfortable this guy is,” Y/n replied. “I jacked up the thermostat, got the table all sticky, made one of the chair legs too short, and worst of all, I had Damian greet him.”

“What did you have him do?”

“I told him to be himself.”

Wayne shook his head. “Poor son of a bitch.”

Y/n glanced at her capitan before asking, “Why are you wearing a tuxedo? You look like Fred Astaire.”

“I take that as a high compliment, but I’m not off to sing the number one song of 1935, Cheek to Cheek, which was top of the charts for fifteen weeks and the following year was nominated for the Best Song Academy Award to The Way You Look Tonight.”

Y/n stared at him until she muttered, “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

“Clark and I are attending the opera,” Wayne explained simply.

“Ooh, the opera. Is it the one Bugs Bunny sings?”

“Yes.” Wayne turned away from Y/n and asked, “So, who's this?”

“Lex Luthor,” Y/n said proudly. “We have a clear motive, clear means, a nonexistent alibi, but the DA won't bring a charge because it's all circumstantial. If we wanna bring this guy down, we have to get him to confess right here, right now.”

Wayne raised a brow. “An interrogation with a ticking clock and everything on the line? I better call Clark and tell him I won't be attending the opera.” He pulled out his phone and began dialling. “There's someone else I'd rather hear sing.”

“Oh, damn!” Y/n covered her mouth appreciatively.

“Hello, Clark. I won't be joining you at the opera tonight-”

“Oh, sorry,” Y/n shushed herself. “I didn't know-”

Wayne cut her off, saying, “it's under my name, W-A-Y-N…”

Y/n squinted at him and finished her sentence, “you were on the phone already….”

Wayne poured over the case file which stated facts, showed pictures, and other minute details. “You're right.” Wayne nodded. “He did it. But we have no murder weapon, no witnesses, and you really didn't find any usable forensic evidence?” He was doubtful that his best detective found nothing.

“The body was discovered rotting in Ocean View. It'd been rained on for weeks and chewed up by coyotes,” Y/n explained. ”The only other DNA other than the victim’s was some bear semen found in the hair.”

“Right. Who found the body?”

“Hikers,” Y/n replied. ”You're really just gonna blow past the bear semen detail?”

“I imagine a bear mistook the rotting corpse for a female of its species and had intercourse with it.” He waved her away. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It isn't?” Y/n stared at him, aghast. “I am fascinated by your life,” she whispered.

“Let's get in here.” Wayne cracked his knuckles. “Start working this guy.”

“Oh.” Y/n clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “You're gonna come in with me? I just thought maybe you'd watch from out here, you know, pull me out when I'm getting a little too hot, possibly?” She waved her hands around. “Call me a loose cannon. You know, classic captain stuff.”

“L/n, do you know what I miss about being a detective?” He answered his own question, “a good interrogation.” He clapped a fist into his open palm. “Breaking suspects down.” He lowered his voice. “Talking quietly and then talking real loud! Looking away and then looking right in their eyes.” His eyes flared at Y/n and then he leaned casually on the desk. “Leaning.”

“That was amazing,” Y/n gaped.

“So, can I join you?” Wayne straightened his cufflinks.

“Well, a lot of these techniques do work better with two people: you know, good cop-bad cop, crazy cop-sane cop, chill cop-ADHD cop. Wanna be ADHD cop?”

Capitan Wayne deadpanned, “I think you have that covered.” He turned away and said, “let's do this!”

Y/n strode into the interrogation room where Lex stopped fidgeting with his uneven seat. “Hello, Luthor.”

Lex hummed and greeted, “detective.”

“This is Captain Bruce Wayne,” Y/n gestured to Wayne who was brooding in the corner like a vigilante watching over their city. “He's a bit of a legend in interrogation circles. Hey, Cap-i-tan, who's the scariest person you've ever gotten a confession out of?”

“Abner Krill,” Wayne said. “He was known as Polka-Dot Man.”

Y/n’s nose scrunched up. “Okay, I thought it was gonna sound a little cooler, but whatever.” She clapped her hands together and sat down across from Lex. “So, shall we recap the night that Axel Granite was murdered? Friday the twenty second? I believe you were the last person to see him alive, correct?”

“No.” Lex raised a brow. “I'd imagine whoever killed him saw him after I did.”

“Ooh, nice dodge,” Y/n complimented and leaned back in her chair. Finally; a challenge. “Tell us about Friday.”

“I had a late afternoon meeting.” Lex matched her stance, leaning back as well. He seemed relaxed- one leg was propped on the other, hands were loosely clasped on his lap, and eyes smiling. “A simple board meeting. It wrapped up around six o’clock, and Axel and I talked after. He had just wrapped up his last appointment.”

“And why do you have a doctor on sight?” Y/n asked.

“In case of any emergencies,” Lex answered easily. “We also take blood samples for some of the experiments we conduct at LexCorp, so we need him handy.”

“And who else was in the office?”

“My secretary and driver had gone home, and Cheryl, who‘s usually one of the last to leave, left early because her niece had a school play,” he explained.

“So it was just you and Axel? No witnesses?” Y/n hummed. “That's lucky.”

He shook his head. “Not lucky at all. There was nothing to witness. Axel just wanted to talk about firing one of our employees, Gretchen.”

“And that's all you discussed?” Y/n clarified.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nah.”

“Zero other subjects were mentioned?”

“None. We just talked about Gretchen.”

“Right.” Y/n squinted at him. “And, of course, there's no way for me to check if that's true, because whoever took Axel’s phone wiped all of his calendars. Except…” She flipped open her notepad and sucked a breath through her teeth. “It was all backed up on his home laptop. Would you like to hear what he said the meeting was about?” She cleared her throat and read aloud, “Seven P.M. talked with Lex about-"

“Missing equipment,” Luthor finished. Once again, he mimicked Y/n and sucked in a breath. “Ooh. Did I get that right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n closed her notebook and said, “But ‘missing equipment’ hardly sounds like ‘firing Gretchen.’ So maybe you want to explain…”

“He thought Gretchen was stealing lab equipment. That's why he wanted to fire her.” He inspected his nails. “Any other questions?”

Wayne suddenly started chuckling. Honestly, Y/n had forgotten that he was there. “Boy, you really thought you had him with that one, huh?”

“Well, I…” Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“And you got so excited for it… Let me guess, you, ah, practised the notebook flip?”

“Uh, Captain, something's come up in the case. Can I talk to you outside for a sec?” Y/n interrupted. Once they were outside, she cried, “What the hell are you doing in there? You totally undermined me.”

“I know, and I apologise.” Wayne held up a hand. “But I'm executing a strategy.”

“Oh, really, and what strategy might that be?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Make Y/n feel like an idiot?”

“No, I want Luthor to underestimate you and fear me. I'll badger him with my superior intellect, while simultaneously belittling you. Once Luthor dismisses you as a threat, I'll leave you alone with him, and he'll let his guard down.”

Y/n glared at him and mumbled, “ If I didn't know any better, I would say you're describing smart cop-dumb cop.”

“Look, I thought you had him on the calendar reveal,” Wayne conceded. “But he was a step ahead. You got flustered, and I realised in the moment we could use this to our advantage.”

“So what do you want me to do, ask stupid questions?” Y/n shrugged dramatically.

“Stupid questions, grammatical errors, lose your train of thought, just ask him to confess.” Wayne listed on his fingers. “This is not a comment on you, L/n. You’re a brilliant detective. I only want to bring this guy down.”

“Yeah, that's all I want too.”

“So, the night of the murder, you met with Robert in his doctor's office,” Y/n reiterated. “Why there? Why not your office which is much better suited for business meetings?”

“He was preparing for the next day's appointments. By taking the meeting in his office, we saved time. And time is money.” He mimicked tapping a watch.

“Right, and did…” Y/n trailed off. “Nevermind. I forgot what I was saying. Come back to me.”

Wayne swept in easily, “now, we did a sweep of the room where you and Axel fought-”

“Talked,” Lex corrected.

“Right. ‘Talked.’ The entire room had been scrubbed. It had undergone industrial sterilisation to remove all traces of blood and DNA.” Wayne crossed his arms.

“It's a doctor’s office,” Lex reminded them. “Blood draws happen every day. Per law, we have to sanitise it.”

“Ooh!” Y/n butt in. “I remembered what I was gonna ask. Did you kill him?”

“No,” Lex answered calmly.

Wayne redirected the conversation back on track. “So, after you and Robert fought-”

“Talked.”

“You left the office, but you didn't take your car?” Wayne asked.

“I went to a bar, The Scotchman,” Lex said. “I didn't want to drive drunk, so I took a cab. You know, like a responsible person.”

“And you didn't have your phone?” Clearly, Wayne didn’t believe this story.

“I left it charging in my office and I didn't realise till I was already out of the building,” Lex offered easily.

“Oh, man, if I go ten minutes without looking at my phone, my pumpkin crop dies on my little farm.” Y/n shook her head sadly.

“This is not the time for stories about your digital squash, L/n,” Wayne said sharply.

“What does it matter that I forgot my phone?” Luthor completely disregarded Y/n’s comments. A look of realisation dawned on his face and he chuckled, “I had it on me, you could've seen it pinging off the cell tower.”

“So you took a cab to this bar,” Wayne narrated. “However, we talked to the employees of The Scotchman. Nobody saw you there.”

“Nobody remembers seeing me,” Luthor pointed out. “It's not surprising nobody remembers seeing me. The bar was extremely crowded that night and I spent my whole time in the corner talking to this woman, Helen.”

Wayne hummed. “Oh, so you say. But when we ran all the credit card receipts, nobody named Helen bought any drinks that night.”

Lex chuckled and held up a hand. “Trust me, Helen wasn't buying her own drinks.”

Suddenly, Wayne’s phone rang and he said, “I need to deal with this. Let's take a five.”

“Or…” Y/n suggested slowly, “I could keep this interview going solo.”

“Yes,” Captain Wayne said after a moment. Luthor regarded their interaction closely. “I'm sure that'll be, um… pretty helpful.”

Once Wayne had left the interrogation room, Y/n sat herself down at the table and smiled broadly. “I have some questions,” she said brightly. “What kind of car did Robert drive?” She flipped open her notebook and suddenly rattled off, “also, what colour was Helen’s hair, which night does the cleaning crew sterilise your office, have you ever been to where the body was found, when you left your phone at the office was it plugged into your computer or an outlet, did you kill him, and what did your cab driver look like?”

Lex rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “This is a huge waste of time. But, here you go: Robert drove a Saab, Helen’s hair was brown, they sterilise on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I haven't been to Ocean View in twenty years, the phone was plugged into the wall, I did not kill him, and the cab driver had a beard and an earring… I'm sorry I didn't get his licence number.”

Y/n clicked her tongue and smirked. “Wow. Very impressive. You didn't even fall for my ‘did you kill him’ gambit.”

“Nope,” Lex grinned.

“Although,” Y/n tapped her chin. “It is interesting that you knew the body was found in Ocean View, New Jersey, when that information hasn't been released to the public yet.” When Luthor’s gaze flickered to her, Y/n muttered, “Got ya.” She laughed and said, “I can't believe you thought I was the dumb cop. I mean, Tim made me watch Planet Earth with the British narrator. I can tell you anything you want to know about three-toed slow-ths,” she said in a farcical manner. “I totally got you to say where the body was found, which kinda seems like something only the murderer would know.”

“Actually,” Luthor’ jaw twitched and he sat back. “Axel’s wife told me. I've been comforting her a lot lately. To help her through the pain.”

Y/n growled, “we asked her not to share that info, and she promised us she didn't.”

“Well, she's been distraught,” Lex said. “She might not remember.”

“Flimsy.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “So what did you mean when you said you hadn't been to Ocean View in twenty years?”

“My uncle has a cabin there. I would visit him as a kid.”

“So your uncle owns a cabin in the town where the bear-semened body was found. That is quite a coincidence,” Y/n commented.

“I haven't been there for twenty years. You can call my uncle if you want,” Lex waved his hand.

“Oh, we are.” Y/n nodded reassuringly. “So you might as well just confess now, or we can take our sweet time like the mer-jestic slow-th.” Her British accent came out once again. “Either way, we've got you.”

“We don't have him,” Y/n sighed behind the two-way glass.

“Luthor’s uncle said he hasn't been to the cabin in months and he hasn't spoken to Luthor in over a year,” Wayne said, tapping on his phone.

“What about the neighbours?” Y/n asked.

“There's only one other house on that road and we haven't been able to contact the owner.”

Y/n poked her tongue in her cheek. “Yeah, but Lex doesn't know that. If we tell him the neighbour saw him that night, he'll crack for sure.”

Wayne glared at her. “You want us to lie?”

“No,” Y/n sassed. “I want me to lie and you to stand behind me and say, three ‘oh damns’ when I defeat him.”

“There will be no ‘oh damns.’” Wayne said, “we're not lying.”

“The Supreme Court said that we're allowed to lie in an interrogation,” Y/n argued. “Couple of days ago I told a perp I knew Selena Gomez. It had absolutely nothing to do with the case, but I can say it.”

Wayne shook his head. “What if Luthor never went to the cabin? Suppose you're wrong. Then Luthor knows we have nothing. There goes our credibility and our leverage.” He scratched his nose. “No, we need a different strategy. Admittedly, all this dental talk has given me an idea.”

Y/n barged into the room and announced, “We have a few more questions for you, genius.”

Wayne snickered. “Genius.” Luthor slowly turned to look at him. “It's funny when people call businessmen ‘geniuses.’ Especially male CEO’s.”

“I had to build my company from the ground up,” Lex said.

“That doesn’t make you a genius,” Wayne retorted.

“I have an IQ of two hundred twenty four.” Luthor smirked. “Does that qualify?”

Wayne’s jaw ticked. “Have you made any notable contributions to science? Have you discovered a new element? Building up a business hardly qualifies you.”

“My company has contributed to many scientific endeavours, thank you very much.” Luthor’s voice was tense and Y/n’s eyes flickered between the two men.

“But were you the one actually experimenting?” Wayne pounded a fist on the table and it rattled. “We live in a society where CEOs take credit for the things-” A few moments later, Wayne was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” His cufflinks were undone and his tie was loosened.

“Yeah, apparently.” Y/n handed him a glass of water. “So… now can we lie?”

“No. But you know what works? Making him confront his victim.”

“Look your dead friend in the eyes and say his name,” Y/n demanded, holding up a picture of Axel Granite.

Luthor looked at the picture. “Axel.”

“Okay, maybe say his full name,” Y/n suggested.

“Axel Granite.”

“His middle name's Holt.”

“Axel Holt Granite.”

“His wife called him Axe. Work that in.”

“Axe Granite.”

“Work it into the full name.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Now say it with a frown on your face.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Don’t blink so tears come to your eyes.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Man, this guy is a good murderer!” Y/n cried once she and Wayne were back behind the two-way glass.

“There's got to be some way to break him.” Wayne rubbed at his temples.

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Wait a minute. I just had an idea.”

Y/n held a guitar and chanted, “two, three, four!” She strummed the guitar haphazardly and started screaming loudly.

“Yeah, I really gotta stop trying that.” In the viewing room, Y/n set the guitar aside, huffing out a breath. “It never works.”

“Tell us more about your relationship with Axel.”

Lex exhaled. “We've been over this a thousand times,” he said. “We got along well. I mean, we disagreed sometimes, but we had a good partnership.” Luthor smirked and muttered, “he never, for instance, skipped a party so he could micromanage me as I tried to do my job. That's what's happening here, right?” He pointed towards the two officers. “That's why you're wearing the tuxedo?”

“I skipped the opera, not a party,” Bruce said. ”It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it's the Bugs Bunny one!” Y/n piped up.

“And I'm not here to micromanage anyone,” Wayne frowned. “I'm here because I enjoy interrogating scum.”

“You don't think the fact that he skipped the opera has anything to do with him not believing in you?” Lex asked slowly.

“He believes in me!” Y/n defended before pointing an accusing finger at the CEO. “You're not interrogating us. We're interrogating you. Tell us about the missing equipment! If Gretchen didn't take it, then who did? Because we're pretty sure it was you. Honestly, it could have been any of your employees. They all have access to the storage room.”

“You know, it's silly, but, uh…” Luther glanced up at them knowingly. “I trust the people who work for me.”

“Captain Wayne is only here because I want him here,” Y/n said.

“Really?” He pointed at Y/n. “So you're in charge? And all these strategies have been your ideas?”

Y/n stuttered and then said after a moment, “the guitar thing was mine.”

“And you signed off on that?” He then pointed at Wayne.

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Y/n turned towards him and scoffed, “seriously?”

“I just feel bad for you,” Luther shook his head. “Your boss thinks you're an idiot; that can't feel good.”

“Alright, listen,” Y/n snarled. “You son of a bitch, you think you're smarter than us? You think you've gotten away with it? You haven't.” She wagged her finger. “Imma find something. One skin cell, one eyelash, one tiny inconsistency in your story, and you're gonna spend the rest of your life in prison. Everyone who loves you will leave, and you will die alone! And at that time, it will be your head that a bear has sex with!” A few moments later, Y/n was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” Her sleeves were rolled up and she tugged at her collar.

“Yeah, apparently.” Wayne handed her a glass of water.

“He just gets us so riled up!” Y/n complained. She furrowed her brows and stared at nothing for a minute before murmuring, “I got it. I got it!”

“He's not answering any questions,” Luther’s lawyer, who had just joined him, said firmly as Y/n burst into the room.

“That's okay.” Y/n grinned. “I have no questions. That's right. I'm about to monologue, son!” She snapped her fingers theatrically.

“You better make it quick,” the lawyer said. “You have eight minutes until I file a harassment claim.”

“Alright, let me paint you a picture.” Wayne strode into the room and stood in the corner, arms crossed, listening to Y/n. “Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp, has been stealing equipment from his own labs.”

“Why would I steal from my own labs?” Luthor asked incredulously.

“What’s the point of this?” His lawyer demanded.

”I'll get there,” Y/n held a finger up. “One day, I'm working late when my colleague, Axel Granite, surprised me. He found out I was stealing equipment and said he's gonna file a police report. My reputation could be ruined. We fight, and something in me just snaps, so I grab the first thing I can find and I hit him with it.”

“You still have no murder weapon,” the lawyer reminded her.

“I do now.” Y/n slammed a picture down on the table. “I found a picture on Yelp of the doctor’s office six months ago, and here is a shot that our crime scene photographer took of the same room two weeks after the murder.” She slammed down another photo. “Notice any differences?” she asked.

“We're not answering that,” the lawyer said.

“That's all right, I can just tell you myself.” Y/n shrugged before continuing, “the Yelp picture has six of these glass awards in the background, whereas this shot only has five. What happened to number six?” Y/n asked rhetorically. “Murdered Axel with it!”

“I didn't,” Lex glared.

“You lost all control and you bludgeoned him to death,” Y/n, true to her word, kept monologuing. “There must have been blood everywhere, but you got lucky. You never would have gotten away with it in your carpeted office!”

“That's not what happened.” Luthor’s hands curled into fists.

“Don't say anything, Lex,” his lawyer reminded him.

“And Cheryl would’ve heard all of the screaming but she was at her niece's play. Lucky again.”

“You're wrong.”

“You put Axel’s body onto a dolly and shoved it in the elevator. It's a miracle there wasn't blood everywhere.”

“That's not true!” Luther insisted.

“Now you're in the garage with a corpse. You panicked and left your phone in your office and you don't have your car keys, but Axel’s are in his pocket so you put him in his car and take off.”

“No.”

“You simply can't believe what you've done.” She fans her face dramatically.

“No.”

“Luthor,” his lawyer placed a hand on his forearm.

“You're flustered,” Y/n placed a hand on her forehead, faux swooning. “You have no GPS, so you just start driving.”

“No!” Lex pounded the table.

“Lex! Stop!” his lawyer cried.

“Next thing you know, you're in Ocean Views, and it hits you: your uncle's cabin! He has a place there. You're the luckiest son of a bitch ever.”

“It wasn't luck!” Luthor shouted and Y/n’s jaw twitched.

“Yes, it was,” she laughed. “You got lucky at every turn!”

“No!” Luthor fumed, slowly rising from his seat. ”I knew exactly where I was driving, I left my phone in the office on purpose, I was in the doctor’s office by design, and I didn't use some glass award that any idiot would clearly see was missing. In fact, a cleaner had broken it a week before!” He leaned forward on his fists, rings shining fully in the dim light. “I made a rod out of lab glass, killed him with it, then melted it back down. It's already another test tube, son!” His face morphed into one of shock and he fell back into his seat. His lawyer’s eyes widened before rubbing him sympathetically on the back.

Wayne’s mouth dropped open and he mumbled, “oh, damn.” In a louder voice he repeated, “oh, damn.” Shocked, the police captain cried out, “oh, damn!”

Y/n spun her finger in the air victoriously. “And that is three oh damns!” she shouted out. In a whisper, she said, “I feel so cool right now. Like I’m in a fanfic.”

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #b99 #b99/dcu #slow burn

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jinxedshapeshifter · 1 month ago

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Analyzing Klavier's Behavior Because I Am Nothing If Not Predictable*

*But also I made this post at 2am and am determined to see it through

Alright so a few days ago I posted this reblog of a response to a post I made mentioning that Klavier's behavior that is so commonly poked at as "Klavier, there was a murder" could very well be a coping mechanism. As you'll know if you've read the essay I wrote on the parallels between Ryulock and Homumiko, I really like to analyze fictional characters. So I have decided to analyze Klavier Gavin's behavior throughout his appearances because there's implications in there that I think aren't talked about enough.

(Also important to note because I feel like it'll come up; this is all my interpretation of Klavier's behavior based on a combination of personal experience and just how I read his behavior. I am not going to claim my analysis to be objectively correct.)

Part 1: A Brief-ish Summary of Klavier's Canon Appearances

Klavier's only canon appearances are in Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney and Turnabout Academy in Dual Destinies (which is a shame but that's not my point). In the latter, he's not acting as Prosecutor Gavin, he's acting as Rock God Klavier. I still think, for the sake of context, it's important to go over these appearances and how he acts during each one.

Turnabout Corner

Our first introduction to Klavier is in Turnabout Corner, the second episode of Apollo Justice. He's introduced as a cool, suave prosecutor that likes to throw his weight around a little (as indicated by him overriding the police and allowing Trucy and Apollo to investigate People Park), and it's easy to (correctly) assume pretty early on that he doesn't really care about giving information to the defense like every other prosecutor in the series (something that will come up later). In Turnabout Corner, we also learn about Klavier's status as a rockstar, and how he usually acts during court proceedings. Apollo's first impression, which carries over into Turnabout Serenade and is still part of how he sees Klavier into Dual Destinies, is that Klavier tends to not take things very seriously.

Turnabout Serenade

Turnabout Serenade is... interesting. We see a side of Klavier that he seems to want to keep under wraps at first — he's a perfectionist when it comes to his music, and his focus is on Daryan's missed cue, not the fact that a murder happened at his concert; notably, he's focused on Daryan's fuck-up, when he's not the only one who messed up during the concert. He comes off as irritable during investigation segments, seeming to put on a mask of his usual confident and carefree attitude when Apollo and Trucy show up.

This is also the first time Klavier starts to get honestly pretty mean when even the implication that something he didn't want to be true is true is suggested. The second Apollo implies LeTouse was murdered during the second set (which is when he first presents the igniter) Klavier gets mean ("Herr Forehead, don't destroy what little respect I have for you!" which implies he never had much respect for him in the first place, which I'd argue is not the case but I'll get into that later). We get into Daryan's testimony once it's made clear that Daryan's a suspect, and at that point he's less mean to Apollo and tearing into Daryan instead. Turnabout Serenade alone shows that Klavier's views of people can and will change on a dime.

Turnabout Succession (2019 section)

I'm gonna get it out of the way now, Klavier is a brat during the 2019 section of Turnabout Succession. This is relevant; he seems to have grown out of this by Turnabout Corner, but he's still prone to being a dick. Klavier's also much more egotistical during the 2019 section of Turnabout Succession; most notably, he brags about the success of The Gavinners multiple times during the trial (which Phoenix describes as an "utter lack of humility"). As a 24/25-year-old, he's not normally an egocentric asshole; this trait only really shows itself during times where he'd be stressed. Again, we'll get to that.

Turnabout Succession (responses to Kristoph's involvement)

The first reaction to Kristoph's involvement is when Vera mentions the commemorative stamp with Troupe Gramarye on it, and he gets intense about asking Vera about what the first forgery she made was. He actually scares Vera and concerns the judge:

And this is where he first breaks down. Trucy gets concerned, Apollo has to tell him to calm the fuck down because he's badgering the witness (at which point Klavier calls Phoenix Apollo's "soiled, sullied mentor"), and then Vera collapses from atroquinine poisoning and the trial ends. I cannot imagine what the next span of time before the trial continued was like for Klavier.

Once Kristoph actually takes the stand, Klavier's quite quiet for a while, aside from defending Kristoph when you press certain statements (and even then, Kristoph will not hesitate to talk over Klavier). Apollo even mentions that Klavier's acting different, and decides it's because Kristoph's in the courtroom. Klavier gets so upset that he can't even function properly, which Kristoph blames on Apollo ("My, my. You've upset my poor brother to the point of uselessness."). Klavier does eventually snap out of it and accuses Kristoph of bluffing, and the rest of the trial he works with Apollo to convince the jurists that Kristoph is behind Drew and Vera's poisoning, not Vera (although he does tell Apollo he's leaving the case if he can't prove Kristoph is behind forging the evidence in the Zak Gramarye case).

Klavier's behavior in the 2026 sections of Turnabout Succession very much remind me of 17-year-old Klavier, and his breakdown sprite does not help this (which I've also done an analysis on. Parts of that analysis will be relevant later). Again, this will come up later.

Turnabout Academy

I personally think Klavier's behavior in Turnabout Academy is also similar to his behavior when he was 17, although in the complete opposite direction from Turnabout Succession. Looking at Klavier's behavior in Turnabout Succession's 2019 section vs his behavior during Turnabout Academy, I am immediately struck by similarities. Notably, Klavier exhibits some degree of inflated self-confidence (he calls his own voice "godlike" if you present the tape recorder to him, tells Apollo and Athena to find the Gavinners banner, leading Athena to wonder if he just wants his banner back, claims the burnt fragments of the Gavinners banner is a "challenge directed at [Klavier] and Gavinners fans everywhere"), which leads him to put down Apollo specifically (telling Apollo that the role of a fledgling lawyer is one he was "born to play," calling Apollo a wet blanket, "That feigned swagger does not suit you in the least," probably jokingly accusing Apollo of destroying the statues of Klavier and Phoenix).

It's all behavior that feels like it should come from 17-year-old Klavier, not 25-year-old Klavier, at least not under most circumstances.

Part 2: A Slightly More In-Depth Analysis of Klavier's Behavior

Klavier's behavior, notably, changes depending on the circumstances he's in. I think it's important to figure out what the baseline for adult Klavier's behavior is before we go any further however.

I, personally, think the baseline for Klavier's behavior is most clear in Turnabout Corner. He doesn't have any personal involvement in the case beyond Apollo getting Kristoph thrown in prison, and he's pretty chill the entire case. It feels like, at the very least, he's adhering to his rock god persona (and I don't think it's a stretch to assume that's at least partially what he's like when he's not masking anything). Turnabout Corner serving as the baseline for Klavier's behavior also makes sense from a writing standpoint. So, I'm going to use Turnabout Corner as a baseline for Klavier's behavior. Now that we have that out of the way, let's analyze Klavier's behavior.

Part 2.1: Turnabout Serenade

So, first of all, let's look at the transition from Turnabout Corner to Turnabout Serenade. Klavier's having fun, he's at a concert and performing with someone he looks up to and admires. Then, tragedy strikes. A murder happens during the third set. The pianist for the second set is arrested. Daryan missed a cue he shouldn't have missed. This is the first time Klavier is aggressive. It's the first time we see perfectionist Klavier. The second Apollo and Trucy show up, he starts acting like he did during Turnabout Corner. To be completely clear, I do think he was genuinely happy to see them. I don't think his behavioral change when Apollo and Trucy show up is entirely a front. At worst, he's pretending everything's fine by acting like he normally would. Two explanations I can think of for this:

Maybe he just doesn't want Trucy and Apollo to see him like that.

Maybe he doesn't actually care how Trucy and Apollo see him, and he pretends everything's fine by instinct.

Additionally, this is the first time we truly see the extent of how egocentric Klavier can get. He opts to completely ignore the fact that a murder happened at his concert and instead focuses on Daryan's missed cue. That's what we see, at least.

By the end of the case we find out that missed cue was crucial evidence. That missed cue had implications for the entire incident. It's also implied in Turnabout Corner that Klavier is always multiple steps ahead, and in Turnabout Academy he suggests that the missing Gavinners banner is relevant to the case, and it ends up being crucial to the case. Exactly like Daryan's missed cue.

I don't think Klavier was just being an egocentric asshole here. I think he knew that the missed cue was somehow relevant, especially if he noticed Lamiroir and Machi's mistakes during the second set. If he did notice the mistakes Lamiroir and Machi made, then noticed Daryan's missed cue, I don't doubt he'd think they were somehow related. The one thing saving him was that the entire case, both the defense's side and the prosecution's side, hinged on the murder taking place during the third set, so he gets fucking mean when it's implied the murder might've happened during the second set, because there goes any plausible denial. Once Apollo suggests the murder happened during the second set, Daryan's alibi goes out the window, and he becomes their prime suspect. Basically, Klavier's aggression in Turnabout Serenade, and potentially how set on figuring out Daryan's missed cue he was, was very likely him getting defensive.

Part 2.2: Turnabout Succession

Not gonna talk about the 2019 section of Turnabout Succession much here. Klavier's behavior in Turnabout Succession is very much like his behavior in Turnabout Corner. That is, until Kristoph is made a suspect in Drew Misham's murder.

Klavier's pretty much the same as he was in Turnabout Corner for most of the first trial of Turnabout Succession. He's enjoying himself (a fact Apollo and Trucy mention), he's having fun teasing Spark Brushel a bit.

And then Vera brings up the commemorative stamp with Troupe Gramarye on it. As I mentioned above, he gets so intense about finding out what Vera's first forgery was that he scares Vera, concerns the judge, concerns Trucy, and has Apollo telling him to calm the fuck down because he's badgering the witness. Even taking 17-year-old Klavier into account, that's incredibly out of character for him. 17-year-old Klav was a bit mean to witnesses, sure, but he never badgered them. This exact moment is where, upon replaying AJ:AA, I was like "holy shit, you can pinpoint exactly where and when Klavier realizes Kristoph's involved in this."

During the next trial day, he's out of character on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, by which I mean he's too quiet. Klavier's usually talkative and flamboyant. He likes to test Apollo and Apollo's theories. He likes getting under Apollo's skin. But the second Kristoph's on the witness stand we don't get any of that. He's just quiet and he lets Kristoph talk over him. Kristoph's presence is enough to make him uncharacteristically quiet (which makes me wonder what the fuck their history is, especially with Klavier's "Spinning out of whose control? Mine? ...Or yours?" line after Kristoph says he's spinning out of control and the fact that what triggers Kristoph saying that in the first place is Klavier saying "Let's clean out the family closet" and Kristoph claims Klavier's going to say something he'll regret, but that's a different post for a different time). Klavier eventually gets so desperate for proof that Kristoph killed Drew and tried to kill Vera that he literally begs Apollo to prove it. Once Klavier has seen evidence that would indicate that Kristoph is guilty of Drew's murder, he's mostly back to his normal self.

Part 2.3: Turnabout Academy

Turnabout Academy is interesting because Klavier's behavior still feels off but you aren't playing as Apollo; you're playing as Athena, who doesn't know what Klavier is usually like. Klavier's a lot nicer to Athena than he is to Apollo (he is still a bit mean to Athena at points, just to be clear). I personally think it's because Klavier knows Apollo but doesn't know Athena well, but that's just an assumption, I don't think there's really evidence to support it.

Anyway, Klavier's behavior during Turnabout Academy feels pretty similar to when he was 17 in my opinion. He is brutal with Apollo. Klavier:

Tells Apollo that the role of a fledgling defense attorney is one he "was born to play"

Calls Apollo a wet blanket

Calls Apollo a stick in the mud

Accuses Apollo of destroying the statues of Klavier and Phoenix TWICE (probably jokingly but that's still mean, Klavier. This is also, notably, reflective of Klavier accusing Apollo of setting his guitar on fire in Turnabout Serenade)

17-year-old Klavier, while he doesn't target anyone specifically, is a fucking brat. He's irritating and he likes harassing people (like how 17-year-old Klavier was ever allowed in a court of law is beyond me. Granted this is the same court system that let an 18-year-old with a whip prosecute cases but I digress). In some of 17-year-old Klav's dialogue, we also get a taste of just how egocentric he could get at 17. Some of 17-year-old Klavier's lines in the 2019 section of Turnabout Succession that had me like "wow, never has a more irritating 17-year-old existed":

"Herr Detective, this is my stage. Can the antics."

"And I haven't proven anything yet, beyond my good looks, and startling record sales."

"...Would you hold me accountable for a mistake made in my youth?" "That was just this morning!" "...I am still young."

"I would hope the defense refrains from its customarily broad, sweeping accusations."

"...Truly, there's no substitute for experience. Nothing blinds one to the truth so effectively."

I can 100% see some of those lines also coming from Turnabout Academy Klavier. That then begs the question; if Klavier had evolved past acting like this by the age of 24, why is he back to acting like that by the age of 25?

Simple; it's very likely the same reason his behavior was the way it was in Turnabout Serenade. Constance Courte had personal significance to Klavier and quite literally shaped how Klavier prosecutes cases. Klavier says this himself; "She may have taught the judge course, but she had a huge impact on me. She was fond of saying, 'The end is only justified through proper means.' She wouldn't tolerate dishonesty and always revered what was right beyond all else." From the beginning of the case, it's had more personal significance than any of the cases Klavier prosecuted (while other cases did have personal significance to him, it was only ever clear near the end of the trial).

The thing about Turnabout Academy is that, in terms of Klavier's role in the story, it is incredibly similar to Turnabout Serenade. Here's a list of similarities just to show what I mean:

Both cases involve Klavier having Apollo and the individual he's investigating with figure out something that doesn't seem to be significant to the case but is actually crucial evidence (Daryan's missed cue in Turnabout Serenade and the Gavinners banner in Turnabout Academy)

Both have personal significance to Klavier in some way (Daryan was the culprit of Turnabout Serenade and his mentor is the victim of Turnabout Academy)

You would not be blamed for saying "Klavier there was a MURDER" every time he shows up in both cases

Klavier's roles in Turnabout Serenade and Turnabout Academy are similar enough to me that it caught my attention almost immediately (in fact, I tagged the screenshot I posted of Klavier telling Apollo and Athena to look for the Gavinners banner as "turnabout serenade ass behavior"). That also means that his behavior is similar in both cases; the primary difference, in my opinion at least, is that Klavier's more intense and mean in Turnabout Academy (which was obvious to be quite quickly).

Part 2.4: Klavier's Shifting View of Kristoph

(This isn't important I just wanted to bring it up)

It's made pretty clear in Turnabout Succession's 2019 section that Klavier has a positive view of Kristoph. Klavier takes Kristoph at his word that Phoenix is going to present forged evidence and keeps him anonymous when he mentions that he gave him the tip that Phoenix would present forged evidence. He was excited to go against him in court (which just makes the fact that Kristoph forged evidence to beat him a lot more sad), something he even acknowledges when it's made clear that Kristoph forged the diary page that got Phoenix disbarred ("...Kristoph! We were supposed to face each other in that trial! A fair fight, brother to brother! I deserved that much! You let me borrow the victim's belongings... ...You showed me all your research on the case!").

We can literally watch this crumble during Turnabout Succession. He knows Kristoph is a good defense attorney; when Apollo first meets Klavier in court, Klavier says that he's prosecuting the case because he wanted to see the true strength of "the little boy who bested" Kristoph, which at the very least implies he respects Kristoph's skills as a defense attorney. That's completely crumbled by the end of Turnabout Succession, with Klavier literally telling Kristoph "You're not needed anymore." It's honestly really sad to watch too. It makes you wonder what was going through his head during that span of time during Vera's trial where Klavier's just not as talkative as he usually is and Kristoph's on the witness stand.

(To be clear, I think Klavier knew Kristoph was a piece of shit before Turnabout Succession. I don't think Kristoph's emotional abuse of Klavier started during Turnabout Succession, and I very much think Klavier knew that Kristoph was a piece of shit because of it. However, I don't really think he would've expected anything that came out during Turnabout Succession, which is why he reacts how he does. I also think it would be safe to assume that either Kristoph only started emotionally abusing Klavier after Zak's trial or Klavier realized that's what he was doing after Zak's trial, due to Klavier's attitude toward Kristoph holding the implication that if Kristoph was actively being abusive at that point in time, Klavier didn't realize it)

Part 3: What We Can Conclude About Klavier Based On This Information

I've mentioned it before (in fact it's in the Klavier breakdown animation analysis I linked earlier in the post), but Klavier's behavior comes off as him not having been able to properly grow up, whether because he became a celebrity when he was 17 or for some other reason. It's like he regresses back to 17 during traumatic situations, or possibly has some sort of relapse if we assume he got mental health treatment between the 2019 section of Turnabout Succession and the start of Turnabout Corner, and his behavior supports that, which is fucking heartbreaking. It's like he's putting on a mask of maturity because he was forced to. By who? Could be anyone. He could've felt obligated to do it by his status as an international celebrity. He could've been pressured into it by the Gavinners' record label (assuming they weren't indie). Kristoph could've pressured him into it because Klavier had eyes on his every action on a global scale. He could've experienced some kind of psychological trauma that caused it. There are so many potential explanations here and they're all fucking heartbreaking.

Part 4: Conclusion

So. 3.3k words later. This is longer than my Ryulock/Homumiko essay. Anyway, conclusion: I don't think Klavier's ever been flanderized. I think people are misreading his primary trauma response (that being, some form of regression or relapse). He's not even the only person this happens to in the series (*stares at Athena*), it's just not obvious with Klavier if you don't consider ALL his behavior together, including his behavior when he's 17 because that's really what explains his behavior in my opinion. Klavier's behavior isn't easily explainable in a nearly 3.5k word essay without knowing how he was at 17.

And yes, you could argue that this is all coincidence. You could argue that none of this was intentional, especially when you consider how Ace Attorney is written. Someone who goes into Dual Destinies without playing Apollo Justice first won't get the additional context required to recognize the full extent of Klavier's behavior.

I would beg to differ however. Some of Phoenix's bitchiness from Apollo Justice is still present in Dual Destinies and Spirit of Justice, and I very much think that was intentional. Apollo's behavior in 5-4 and 5-5 are very much indicative of him having trust issues as a result of everything that happened with Kristoph and that's a hill I'll die on. Simon still acts the same as he did in prison, likely as a result of either trauma, habit, or both.

If you think Ace Attorney doesn't reference past games in characters' behavior, you're underestimating Ace Attorney's writing. I absolutely think Klavier's behavior in Turnabout Academy and his behavior in Turnabout Serenade are meant to be reflective of each other. I'd be genuinely surprised if that's not an intentional parallel and if it doesn't indicate something about Klavier's response to traumatic events. Even worse, I am quite sure that Kristoph has put him down over this. Hell, you could argue that his comment about Klavier being stressed to the point of uselessness is him putting Klavier down for how he copes with trauma. It explains why he was so quiet while Kristoph was on the witness stand, actually.

I also don't think Klavier's as egocentric and quite as much of a perfectionist as he lets on. I think it's part of what I referred to earlier as Klavier relapsing. I very much think he might've been like that at 17, but much like his other behavior at 17 it feels like he grew out of it, and he has a tendency to fall back into it during traumatic situations, whether it's as a defense mechanism or just how his brain responds to trauma.

Essentially this causes traumatic situations for Klavier to turn into him bottling everything up, which comes across to other people (including anyone who decides to play Apollo Justice and Dual Destinies) as irritability. This happens to me too; I'm prone to emotional overreaction but I've gotten to a point where I tend to bottle it up instead of doing literally anything else.

Capcom, please for the love of the Holy Mother give Klavier therapy.

#i worked on this for six hours pls reblog it if you think it's worth anything lmao #(nobody asked but this is almost 4k words. of just me talking about klavier)#also deepest apologies for any inconsistencies. when i do stuff like this i tend to think while i'm typing which leads to inconsistencies #ace attorney #apollo justice ace attorney #dual destinies #klavier gavin #ace attorney analysis #character analysis #aa4 #aa5 #apollo justice spoilers #dual destinies spoilers #aa4 spoilers #aa5 spoilers #tw abuse mention #long post

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