#sits around and does drugs and solves crimes

[mckittericks]

Just re-read "A Scandal in Bohemia" and hot damn. Our boy Sherlock Holmes was one queer-ass motherfucker. Like Kinsey 5 at worst.

[gentil-minou]

wangxian rookies in showbiz au where newbie idol Wei Wuxian is on set of a commercial wearing a ridiculously uncomfortable outfit getting yelled at for dumb reasons by his incompetent agent while bottom-of-the-totem-pole production assistant Lan Wangji is being bossed around by the awful director

Except wwx isn't actually a newbie he was once popular child actor Wei Ying seen everywhere, the golden boy of the industry known for his upbeat personality and the smile constantly on his face.

That is until his final role when he was 13 where he played a dark jaded teenage psychopath in a psychological thriller and was forced to perform intensely emotional scenes without any counselor or anyone there to keep an eye on him (his manager at the time Madam Yu's focus was always her other children's careers, Wei Ying was just an extra way to make money you see). He even got badly injured on set, and now has an ugly burn scar above his heart from a poorly done fire stunt.

But the movie flops and things just keep getting worse from there...

It gets no attention from critics that is until former golden boy becomes the teen misfit all the gossip rags talk about, with constant cover stories showing him at 15 doing drugs and partying and eventually getting kicked out by his manager/aunt at 16. The narrative becomes clear that Wei Ying is a flop and another failed child star turned deplorable diva

He disappears for a few years, only ever coming up in a low budget TMZ special or some commentary youtuber's videos, but Lan Wangji never forgot him.

Lan Wangji had often worked with his uncle when he came on as a consultant on set and so was able to watch and admire Wei Ying from afar. He's especially fond of Wei Ying's role as the happy go lucky middle child on a popular sitcom role and his smaller movie roles where he played a genius child inventor and solved crimes alongside a precocious bunny rabbit.

So well Lan Wangji has always been a fan of him so he's shocked when the new idol on set of their cheap commercial stage looks so similar to Wei Ying.

But at the same time, they're not the same at all. While Wei Ying was known for being friendly and silly, Wei Wuxian is acting like a pompous and cocktail overly confident ass, flirting with the director and everyone else while making a show of whiny and being cutesy with hopes for more screentime.

It's very unnatural and there's a moment where LWJ thinks he must have been mistaken but there's a moment in between when he's running back and forth on the producer's order while balancing cups of coffee when he spots WWX sitting by himself, huddled in a corner of the soundstage deep in the shadows where no one else is around.

He's staring at the fingernails they've painted and stuck gaudy fake jewels on and fiddling with the ridiculous black demon wings he's wearing, as he picks at the layers of makeup and stickers they've put on his face. He's tugging on his red crop top, cut indecently short and revealing so much, as watery eyes dart back and forth in front him like he's worried someone important might see.

In general he doesn't seem anything like the person he was under those lights just minutes ago.

As lwj approaches he sees that actually wwx shoulders are shaking his hands are clenched into fists, his eyes shut tight so that his makeup doesn't run

Wei Wuxiann watches as the director is barking orders for someone to fix the set as another idol takes wwx's place and finishes the shoot. Apparently his acting wasn't "peppy enough" so they've replaced him with someone else

But this was his first gig in months, years actually but months since he tried to come back and for it to fail like this, so fast without anything to show for it is absolutely devastating. He'd tried so hard to give them what he thought he wanted, desperately hoping for his big break. Only to fail again.

What does he do? What can he say? Why does he even bother?

He's staring at the floor like it might have the answer to all his problems when a pair of white sneakers appear.

He tracks those sneakers up to meet the stonefaced stare of one of the PAs he's seen running around, the youngest one who's been doing the most menial tasks. He looks somewhat familiar but his face is impassive and wwx can't tell at all what he's thinking

The PA hands him a bottle of water that wwx takes with both hands, too taken aback to do much else. Then the PA slips his headset off and sits next to him, the black faux feathers of wwx's wings brushing against the PAs arms, though he doesn't seem to mind

And so they sat. Two nobodies hidden in the shadows of a forgotten corner in a busy studio, far from the reach of the shining spotlights and stage. Little by little, wwx finds it easier to control his breathing and stray sniffles.

Eventually, the PA starts taking off his hoodie, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath. He reaches into his pocket and holds out a marker for wwx to take as he turns so his back is facing him.

When wwx, understandably confused, doesn't do anything, the PA glances over his broad shoulders and just says "Sign, please."

Wei Wuxian blinks waiting for the punchline but it never comes. He's not even on the roster for any boy group, just a trainee idol whose only fans are the diehards who follow the trainee circuit and his sister. And this guy doesn't seem like the former and he definitely isn't the latter.

But the PA just sits and waits, back facing wwx.

Eventually, almost mechanically, he signs his new autograph, the one where he uses the 2 W's to make a smile.

He asks for a name to make the signature out to, and the PA answers in a quiet hesitant voice that he can barely hear over all the background noise, "Lan Zhan."

That name sends a spark up his spine like it should be familiar but wwx can't figure out why. So he finishes his autographs with a star and a flourish. He hasn't gotten to test out the new signature yet. He thinks he likes it better than he'd expected.

Wei Wuxian beams up at him, heart beating a beautific beat against his ribcage and asks, "Why would you want a signature from a nobody like me?"

He means it as a teasing joke but the PA, Lan Zhan his brain corrects him, gives him a grave look that steals the breath from his lungs.

"You're not nobody, Wei Ying"

Lan Zhan takes the marker and slips his hoodie back on, covering the autograph with their two names side by side, and with a final nod he walks away, melting into the general chaos of the production floor.

It takes a long moment for Wei Wuxian to realize he'd never told the guy his real name.

(originally a threadfic here)

[friend-of-giants]

Hi! Odd OC asks, but please feel free to share snippets in your answers! For Wren and Teldryn!

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for? (: (: (: (: (:

🍍: Where does your OC feel most comfortable?

🍩

Wren has been jailed for public drunkenness on several occasions. Poor girl has a plethora of problems, none of which drinking will solve, but she does it anyway. She has a tendency to become loud and boisterous when drunk as well as taking her clothes off, even if she's in the middle of the bar.

Honorable mentions - theft and assault because, well, it's Wren.

Teldryn in current times tends to stay out of trouble, as he had enough of that in his younger years. If anything, he'd be most likely to commit assault or murder, but only if he thought the victim truly deserved it, whether it's self defense or defending someone he cares about.

A couple centuries ago he was a different man, one who could hardly stay out of prison. He got caught up in a drug dealing operation when he was in his younger years, which landed him behind bars on multiple occasions both for getting caught selling said drugs or by means of consuming them himself and causing trouble. Upon being shipped back to Morrowind and discovering his role as the Nerevarine, he put that life behind him and was... mostly a good boy. Shortly after the events of the Red Year however, he spent most of his time drinking heavily to cope with his trauma, and ended up jailed a few times for being an absolute drunken menace.

🍍

Wren feels her most comfortable when she's in the safety of her own home, snuggled up in bed under her mountain of furs with a good book and a piping hot mug of spiced mead. Bonus points if there's someone there to enjoy the moment with.

As for Teldryn, he also likes lounging around in bed (I mean, who doesn't?), but feels just as content sitting outside at dusk, watching the torchbugs and reflecting on life.

And here's a snippet since you asked :) from Chapter 8 - What Guides Us. This is hands down one of my favorite bits of writing I've done.

Crickets filled the late evening air with their music, thousands and thousands of individual calls combining into a singular song that seemed to surround and envelop the listeners of the night.  The torchbugs, too, were out in full force.  Swarms of them floated lazily above the grasses along the shoreline, as if lighting the stage for the crickets below.  Not a single coherent thought among all of them, they simply existed, oblivious to the world around them and its troubles. 

Oh, the simple life of bugs.  

It had been quite some time since Teldryn was able to just sit and enjoy such a peaceful setting, and bugs in particular, he thought, were quite interesting.  Small little things with lives of their own, even if those lives were short and consisted only of eating and finding a mate and making even more bugs, but they seemed to be quite successful at it.  The world could crumble around them and take all men and mer with it, and the bugs would continue on with their little lives as if it were just another day. 

He leaned back in his chair that sat overlooking the lake and closed his eyes, taking in the peaceful night around him.  It wasn’t too warm, nor was it too cool.  The wind had died earlier in the evening and in its wake, a profound stillness was all that remained.  The only things that might make this moment better would be a bottle of sujamma and someone to share it with. 

[hermitcraft-8]

how to steal a body: chapter one

In a world devoid of magic, five children inexplicably born with powers are drawn together to solve a murder, as well as the mystery of their very own existence.

read it on ao3

Let’s set the scene.

You are not a man.

That much is certain, as you crawl your way through the dump of your room, retrieving what clothes you can, dressing yourself like a fool, stumbling and tripping on your own feet. Your breath reeks of vomit and alcohol, your hands shake like a mad man’s.

You are not a man.

You are a slug.

By the time you exit the room, you’ve regained the ability to walk upright, but your head throbs and you sway a bit, still. The light out here is a bit harsher, a bit crueler on your eyes, but you manage alright nonetheless. There’s a woman out here, and something about her is monumentally important in ways you’ll never really understand. Stumbling your way through conversation, you learn little- you are a police officer, and this is not your first impression on her.

You retrieve your shoe and make your way downstairs. You meet the cafeteria manager. This is not your first impression on him either. You meet your partner. To your relief, this does, in fact, seem to be your first impression on him.

Together, the two of you make your way outside. It’s cold out, bitterly so, the kind of cold that burns the inside of your nose when you breathe, and makes your eyes hurt. Faintly, the sound of gulls call over the rooftops.

A woman sits nearby. You ask for a pair of yellow gloves, and she obliges. Your partner, the Lieutenant, makes a face when you put them on, no doubt thinking they clash with your outfit. You don’t care.

Together, the two of you move on, struggling your way up the hill, through the alley and to the tree behind the Whirling-In-Rags, where you’d been vehemently assured the body was.

There is no body.

“Lieutenant,” You say, as your partner gazes around, shining brown eyes narrowed behind those little round glasses. “I think someone has stolen our body.”

Let’s set another scene.

You are not a man, either.

Not because you’re a slug- although you’re unsure where the concept came from- but because you are, in fact, a preteen girl, named Cuno. Your friends don’t know you’re a girl- you haven’t gotten the chance to tell them- but it’s not that important. You are not a man, you are Cuno. The Cuno. King Cuno. Racuno.

And you have just stolen a body.

It wasn’t exactly the heist of the century- clearly, the pig who was too busy rooting around and getting drunk was never going to notice, and everyone else was too concerned with the strike, so the hard bit was really how to get him down. But even that wasn’t that hard considering your group’s various… expertises. You got him down, you wrestled off his weird armor, you dragged him to your clubhouse.

And that led you to where you are now, sitting in your clubhouse in a circle, with your friends, around the dead body you just pulled down from the tree.

Your friends, Cunoesse, Annette, Cindy and Mikael, all seem unsure of what they’re doing. This is your chance to command them, and persuade them to follow your confident command.

“Cuno thinks,” You begin. “We should solve this mystery.”

“We know what you think,” Cunoesse snaps. “But you haven’t explained to us how.”

You, admittedly, were not completely sure how yourself, and Cindy, in all her 16-year-old-wisdom, seems to recognize this, scoffing.

“Look at ‘im, he doesn’t know,” She sighs. “We just tampered with a crime scene, big time, and for what?”

“Cuno?” Mikael says, nervously. “You have a plan, yeah?”

“Of course Cuno has a plan,” You say, boldly. “Cuno just… Cuno needs some fucking drugs first.”

“You’re not getting any more drugs until you explain your plan,” Annette says, planting her fists on her hips. Her perfect little cable knit jumper has a little mud on it. Her mother was not going to be happy about that. “Come on, mister leader man! Tell us your plan.”

You glance at Cunoesse, who is staring at you passively, not making any move to intervene and help you out, so you exhale, push back your shoulders, and definitively state. “We are going to ask him.”

“We can’t,” Cindy said. “I told you, his ghost is gone, it’s out there wandering around-”

“So, we find him,” You shrug, gaining confidence by the second. “Cuno bets he hasn’t left Maritnaise- no one leaves Martinaise-”

“Unless he did,” Mikael frowns. “He came from the city, Dad said- oh, Dad’s going to be so upset with me-”

“Not if he never finds out,” Cunoesse finally chimes in. “Look, if we put this back-”

“We’re not putting it back,” You snap. “We’re solving this. And he’s down now, Cuno’s not going to cave and put him back up. We’re going to- to- uh.”

“Cuno,” Cindy says gently. “It’s okay, we’ll just-”

“Do you hear voices?” Annette says, suddenly. “Outside.”

The five of you spring into motion, all cramming against the wall to peer out through the cracks, where you can see outside. Craning your neck to see over Mikael’s blond mess of hair, you can make out about half of the courtyard outside around the corner of the Whirling, and in that courtyard…

“Pigs.” You hiss.

Sure enough, rooting around under the tree is the cop who’d been stumbling around blindly for the last couple days. He looks almost sober now, only swaying a bit, his stupid mustache and sideburns clean of vomit for once. Behind him is a lanky man in a too-small jacket with little glasses that cover narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“We definitely can’t put the body back,” You say. “Come on, Cuno has an idea.”

You carefully lead them up the ladder, and out the loose roof panel, making your way across the rickety tin roof. At one point you glance over your shoulder at the pigs, but neither of them seem to have noticed the five of you as you carefully make your way over the rooftops. Before long, you’re out of view of the two of them and climbing down a fire escape, your friends hot on your tail.

A lorry driver glances up from some book he’s reading, but doesn’t seem all that interested in your group, just muttering something about kids and going back to his story.

You’re unbothered.

“Okay, here’s the plan-”

“I need to be at work,” Annette says, abruptly. “In five minutes. My mom is getting off her lunch break soon and she’s going to find out I’m not there-”

“And my dad’s going to be worried if I’m not home for lunch,” Mikael says. “Especially with a murderer running around-”

“And I literally said I was going to stop hanging out with you kids ages ago,” Cindy pointed out. “You guys are literally toddlers to me.”

You freeze, staring at them. “Cuno can’t do this alone-”

“And you won’t!” Mikael says, but he’s backing away, his tiny shoes leaving indents in the snow. “I just… I don’t want to worry my dad…”

“We’ll do this later,” Annette says. “Promise.”

The three of them vanish within seconds, leaving you and Cunoesse to stare at the snow where they stood.

“You’ll help me, right, C?” You ask.

You’re afraid of her, more afraid than you’ve ever been of anyone who wasn’t your father, but you love her too, like a little sister, or an organ, or a breath of air when you’ve fallen in the harbor. And when she shrugs, and nods, and sighs, you can feel a bit of that weight leave your chest.

“Where do we start, Cuno?” She asks.

“Witnesses,” You grin. “And I know just the man.”

[literaryspinster]

And can we talk about Dick and Kory for a second? I know I sound like a broken record but it’s hard not to keep bringing it up because I never got an answer for why the narrative around them was so goddamn weird. Someone who never watched the show and only tuned into the online discourse would think that Dick was constantly fucking everyone and ignoring Kory while she was sitting around feeling sad and rejected when that just... was not the case at all. This is exactly what did happen s1. Rachel wants Dick to help her because she’s scared about her powers and the people who are interested in them. Dick does not think he can handle it so he tries to leave her in the care of his friends, one being an ex-girlfriend who still has unresolved and unrequited feelings for him. Rachel ends up getting kidnapped by the small bad and Kory, who does not remember anything about her past, rescues her. Dick tries to get Rachel back but is now forced to bring Kory along because Kory and Rachel have bonded and Kory wont leave her side. Rachel runs off after her powers blow up a building and Dick and Kory go after her, bicker for a while, but end up softening toward each other when Dick realizes that this lady is pretty cool and wise and caring actually.

Once they get Rachel back and decide to bring her new friend Gar along as well, they are able to stop at a motel and take a breath, where they end up having casual sex that may be a little more than casual but more on that later. Rachel and Gar run away to go after Rachel’s newly discovered mom who is being held prisoner, Kory and Dick go after them and end up getting captured and tortured for the effort. After getting free, Dick finds some goons experimenting on Kory and beats the shit out of them even though he’s been drugged and can barely stand. They sleep together again, but Dick is still struggling with a lot so he decides they should go their separate ways. Kory understands, they promise to try again once they figure themselves out. He goes after Kory again once he realizes that she might hurt Rachel (which he understands is through no fault of her own) but ends up getting whammied by the big bad who traps him in a delusion, making him think he’s married to the aforementioned ex-girlfriend (who has been completely absent for the last five episodes). The delusion climaxes when he ends up killing his father to avenge Kory, not his “wife,” but Kory, whom he has known for a few days at this point.

s2. With the big bad vanquished, Dick asks Kory to come along with him on the road, but with her memories restored and her situation complicated by that, she declines (that’s right, she says no to him, not the other way around), he decides to dedicate his time to helping his young charges learn how to fight while Kory has started a crime fighting duo with Dick’s friend Donna (whom just the previous season the fandom was angry about because they thought there might be a romantic thing between her and Dick). A villain from Dick’s past resurfaces and Donna and Dick’s old friends from s1 reunite with him to solve the issue. But all three of them do nothing but criticize and admonish Dick for the situation. Meanwhile, Kory reconnects with an ex boyfriend from her homeworld, flirts with him and considers going back with him to fulfill her duties. Before she can leave though, Rachel calls, opening up to her about how difficult things have been without her, even though there is a house full of adults she could theoretically talk to. Kory decides to go help Rachel, reuniting with Dick in the process. After one conversation with Dick she realizes he plans to sacrifice himself to the big bad to free one of his charges and protect the others. She intervenes, saving his life and buying enough time for his charge to be saved by Superboy, who ends up getting shot and put into a coma in the process. Dick has a breakdown and goes after the villain while Kory is able to save Superboy with her powers. When Dick returns, he tells his team a dark secret about his past with the villain that causes everyone to turn on him except for Kory and Gar. Kory is contacted by her ex again and can not stay with Dick although she makes it clear that she does not judge him. Kory’s Ex is killed and her one way home is destroyed by her sister, causing Kory to spiral and hook up with the first man she sees, luckily he’s pretty nice and doesn’t take advantage of her. Meanwhile Dick, at his lowest point, gets himself arrested. Kory and Rachel reunite and Rachel, troubled by a dream of him dying, pleads with the adults to help him. No one agrees except for Kory, but when they go to break him out he is already gone. They reunite again, stop the threat and start a new superhero team.

S3. The Team now consists of Gar, Superboy, Dick and Kory. Rachel is finding herself in Themyscira, Donna is temporarily dead, and his other friends are living their own lives. Dick and Kory are not together, seemingly because Kory has still not resolved the issue of whether she belongs on Earth or on her homeworld, but they seem to be working well together as friends and teammates. Kory is contacted by the guy she hooked up with during her breakdown and she starts to open up to him about some sleepwalking episodes she’s been having, as he is a licensed therapist. Meanwhile, Dick is dealing with the recent death of the same charge that he almost lost in the previous season. He goes home for the funeral and reunites with his father and his ex girlfriend. The kid comes back to life and starts wreaking havoc so dick calls on his team, past and present, to help with the situation. Sadly, one of Dick’s friends dies at the hands of his former charge, causing Dick to begin spiraling again. Frustrated and grieving poorly, Dick consistently butts heads with his ex, who is now the police commissioner, until Kory firmly tells him to fix the situation. He learns to work with her to solve the problem, and after a big win, they get caught in the moment and share a kiss in secret. Why it’s in secret is not clear as Dick is single at this point and can kiss whoever he wants Meanwhile, Kory’s sister who fucked her over the previous season, has come back. Being the only family she has left, Kory takes mercy on her but does not trust her until she proves herself to the team. Dick, still spiraling and needing to solve the issue without risking the lives of anyone else, ends up dead. Rachel who has returned from Themyscira, teams up with Gar to resurrect him with the Lazarus pit. While in the pit, Dick has a vision of a little girl who looks exactly like Kory and calls him daddy. Once the vision ends, Dick has tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, but cannot dwell on it for too long as everything is still mired in chaos. Once the threat is dealt with, Kory’s sister returns home to take on Kory’s responsibilities, solving the issue of whether or not she can remain on Earth. Dick officially breaks up with his ex (although it can be argued that their reunion wasn't significant enough to even require a break up) purchases an RV to take Kory, Gar, Rachel, Superboy and their new friend Tim home, as opposed to traveling via plane. It’s strongly implied that he does this  for the purpose of spending more time with Kory, whom he now realizes he has a future with.

S4. While on the road Dick and Kory are now able to spend more time together, as their biggest personal crises have finally been dealt with. They take on the role of co-leaders of the team, flirt and touch almost constantly. Unfortunately, a big threat wipes out Rachel’s powers, forcing Dick to find another magic user to help them. While they have a sexual history, Kory is unbothered by this, and Dick seems to barely tolerate her until she proves to be very helpful to the team and a good friend to them. She also appears to highly approve of Dick’s relationship with Kory and seems to have a thing for Superboy. Sometime during the chaos, Kory has a similar vision of the baby she will one day have with Dick, she confronts him about why he didn’t tell her, he responds that he doesn’t know, and they put it aside to continue with the mission. Sadly, Dick’s former fling and the Titans' current ally is killed in a pivotal battle.  After the battle, Dick, Kory and Rachel must stop the problem from escalating. In the process, they end up in a town where everyone is brainwashed into allegiance to the main threat. In an attempt to keep them from succumbing to the same fate, Dick suggests they record some painful memories to bring them back to themselves should they get lost. Unfortunately, Kory succumbs to the brainwashing and believes that she is somebody else. Devastated by this, Dick goes on a rampage, taking down the goons who were partially responsible for doing this to her, he brings brainwashed Kory along after sincerely telling her that he would never leave her.  While waiting in the car, Kory picks up Dick’s recorder and listens to it, realizing that one of Dick’s most painful memories is the fact that he could not tell Kory how he felt about her after they had sex in the first season. Hearing him say this causes her to get her memories back. Desperate to stop the threat, Kory considers a prophecy that predicts that she has the power to stop it, but will die in the process. Dick refuses to entertain this and gets in the way every time she tries to sacrifice herself for the mission. Once they reach the end of their rope, Kory is able to fulfill the terms of the prophecy, leaving Dick visibly borken as he watches her explode in the sky. Fortunately, she is not dead, she floats down and they share a kiss. The series ends with the two of them deciding to start a life together and Dick heavily implying that he would very much like to have that baby with Kory. This was much longer than I expected it to be and I didn’t even touch on everything, but yeah, that’s exactly what happened between Dick and Kory on this show. There was never any jealousy, cheating, love triangles or anything of the sort. They did good.

Binging the podcast since there are no new eps to watch (insert sobbing). I feel like u 2 are very balanced in your criticism and praise. I dont get why people have an issue with you in particular.

Ha Enjoy! We had a blast start to finish.

A quick summary of people's issue with me

Me: Kory having a storyline outside of being Dick's love interest is not an issue, Kory looks beautiful 24/7, and damn near every show has some off-seasons.

Titans 'fans' : Titans writers hate black women that's why she has her own story arc, Kory's wigs and powers look terrible due to said racism, and every season has been bad. You have to be delusional to expect things to get better.

Me: Kay. Then why do you keep watching?

Titans 'fans' :

[letarasstuff]

Notice me!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it1

Summary: Teenagers at JJ's daughter's school get attacked. Does she fit the victomology?

Warnings: feeling uncared for

Wordcount: 2.7k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________________

“Good morning, my lovelies. The good news: The case is local. The bad news: Somebody is attacking teenage girls from the same high school”, Penelope starts the briefing, dressed in a bright pink dress with matching accessories.

“Are they from the same class? Age?” Hotch asks, looking over the file. Upon opening her own, JJ feels like her heart stops. “Negative, the three girls are from different years even. The only connection is the school.” “It’s (Y/N)’s school. She-she is a Junior there. I-Hotch?” Desperately she looks at her boss.

The team’s eyes soften. It’s already difficult with minors involved, but when it gets personal the case is a thousand times harder.

“Call her and tell her we get her to answer a few questions. At this point we can be sure it’s someone from the staff or a student. Time is the essence. Reid and JJ, you get (Y/N). Morgan and Prentiss, you question the first two. Dave and I take the last one and then go to the crime scenes. Garcia, I want you to find out anything about the victims and their families. Check their social media sites and look out for anything that connects them”, the Unit Chiefs orders.

Everybody gets up immediately. JJ has her phone already at hand. The longer it takes her daughter to take the call, the more nervous she gets.

“Mom? Did something happen? You know exactly I’m at school. I don’t wanna get in-” “Honey, Uncle Spence and I come to get you. There is something we have to question you about.” The teenager is silent for a moment. “It’s about the girls that got beaten up, isn’t it?”

Her mother sighs. Of course nothing like that stays quiet for long. “Yes, it is.” JJ doesn’t see the point in lying to her. “Ok. Uhm, can you just question me at school? I really don’t wanna leave, because I have soccer practice after school for the game this evening.”

A little light blinks at that in JJ’s mind. “Isn’t it that important game, where scouts are coming?” (Y/N) begins to smile. Her mother remembers it. Maybe she does pay attention to her. Maybe, just maybe, she pays enough to come and see her. After all she even took a day off for Henry’s recital last time.

“Yes, you said you will come and cheer for me.” JJ’s heart aches. She knows that her oldest often backs down due to her mother’s job. More often than the blonde agent likes to admit she has stood her daughter up to save someone’s life. “I try to be there in time, Honey. I can’t promise you anything, though. Just let us hope we solve this case quickly, ok?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders drop. Of course, how could she be this naive to think her mother cares enough to at least try to make it to her probably most important game? “Alright. Text me when you are here or just get me excused at the secretary's office. Bye.”

JJ looks at her phone in puzzlement. The teenager always is understanding of her job and the sacrifices it takes. One night under a lot of tears she confessed to her mother that everytime she is away on a case, she is in the greatest state of worry. Will reported repeatedly that (Y/N) is miserable whenever her mother isn’t at home.

So she told her daughter about the pact she made with her sister. Any time they miss each other, they go out and look at the moon, knowing that they see the same. JJ also admitted that she and Henry are the reason she is even working as a profiler. The agent wants to make the world safer for her kids. A safe space, where they can grow up and go to the park without worrying about Stranger Danger or anything else.

“Is everything ok?” Spencer asks as he sees his best friend frozen on the spot. JJ looks up to him, spotting concern in his eyes. “Yeah, no. I don’t know? It’s just, (Y/N) has an important soccer game tonight with scouts coming and such and I’m not sure if I can get there in time because of the case. She sounded really sad when I told her that. You know, I’m incredibly proud of her for getting this far and she plays really well. Scratch that, she is amazing. Especially knowing (Y/N) is responsible enough to think about college in her junior year makes me swell with pride”, she gushes unknowingly.

Spencer smiles. “I see, she is just like her mother. I’m sure (Y/N) will come around, she loves you so much and knows how difficult our job is.” JJ nods, trying to believe him.

Not long after that the duo enters the secretary’s office, explaining the situation. He immediately notifies the teenager’s teacher and a few minutes later (Y/N) opens the door. “There is an empty classroom we can use, I already asked Mr Boyle. He is such a sweetheart”, she tells her mother and uncle.

“Thank you for consenting to answer our questions. (Y/N), do you know the girls?” Spencer begins after settling down. “I do. One of them, Amy, is on the soccer team with me. We mostly talk about her family. She is in love with her little sister. The other two, Rosa and Gina, are in Freshmen. I tutored Gina briefly until her mother said she doesn’t need it.”

Unfortunately (Y/N) isn’t able to tell more useful information. “Thank you so much, Honey. Have fun at your practice later”, JJ tells her while embracing the teenager. “Yeah, thanks. Do you come home tonight?” Her mother sighs.

“I get it, you don’t know. Ok, I don’t wanna interfere any longer. Maybe you are able to solve the case faster. Stay safe. Love you!” Quickly she picks her bag up and leaves the room.

JJ looks at the genius with a face that says “Do you know what I mean?”

“My lovelies, all three girls don’t have the best connection to their parents. They often complain about the missing approval. Do you think that it’s a kid from their classes?” Garcia informs them as the team gathers back around the round table.

Rossi shakes his head. “The crimes are too organized for a kid. Every girl was drugged, but we don’t know how. Then the UnSub waits for the drug to kick in and takes her to a vacant spot, where the beating occurs. And all of this happens right after classes end. It has to be a staff member, probably a teacher.”

“Yeah, but there is one detail that doesn’t sit right with me”, Derek pipes up, “The connection between the girls is the bad relationship with their parents. It has to be someone, who is reminded by their own dysfunctional family.”

“Garcia, look for someone from the area, his comfort zone shows that he knows remote areas that you don’t find by accident. He has to be from D.C.” Spencer instructs her.

“Okidoki, boy won- Wait, are we looking for a male?” Hotch nods. “We are, the amount of strength used to beat up the girls suggests a male, same with the amount of hatred.”

Emily looks unsure. “This sounds all right, but why is he choosing the girls? What does he relive by hurting them? How does it help him?”

JJ wants to partake in the mindstorming, but a ping from her phone distracts her from saying her thoughts out loud. It’s a text message from (Y/N)

If you find the time in your busy schedule to read this, be informed that Will and Henry won’t come to the game tonight, because Henry has a spontaneous playdate. Don’t worry, he brought me my inhaler to school already.

(Y/N) sighs after sending the text. Is it really too much work for her mother to make room for her? This is probably the most important event in her whole school carriere and she decides that a team of masterminds need her more than her own daughter.

Hurt by the clear ignorance she shoulders her bag and makes her way to the counselor’s office.

“Come in”, a warm voice invites the teenager after her knocking on the door. “Hey, Mr Pembroke. Uhm, I have a class before soccer practice and I wanted to ask you if I can put my bag here? I know I got a locker, but I still got my mom’s birthday present in there and I’m scared I’ll leave it in my classroom and have to run back to get the bag if not another kid already took it away.”

Mr Pembroke looks at her with a smile. “Of course, (Y/N), I don’t mind. Speaking of your mother, will she be there tonight? I really hope so, because you are a star on the field. She’s missing out otherwise.” At the end he winks. He is just that kind of guy. Working with kids makes him desperate for appearing younger than he really is, but that is also part of Keith Pembroke’s charm.

“Unfortunately my whole family isn’t able to come. It is like- I mean I get it, serial killers are dangerous and it’s important and the right thing to chase them down. But do I not deserve some time with my mother?” Mr Pembroke evolved into a moral support over the past school year since he started his job at (Y/N)’s high school.

He always has something noice and wise to say. “You do. Everybody deserves some time with their family and especially with their parents. Why don’t you talk to them after all this is over? I can help you work on what you can say.”

Happily the teenager takes the offer and rushes to her class.

“Guys, I might be onto something”, Spencer rips everybody from their train of thoughts. JJ looks at the watch on her wrist. (Y/N)’s game ends in about five minutes. And she sits here, stumped one the case she stood her up for.

“So we thought about how he chooses his victims. The only connection we found was them having a bad relationship with their parents. But how would the UnSub know? They didn’t share any classes.

“But there always is one person, who knows about the student’s problems. They tell them voluntarily”, he finishes, giving his colleagues the opportunity to answer it themselves.

“The counselor!” Rossi exclaims, wondering how they oversaw the obvious.

Penelope’s keyboard is practically on fire from her fast typing until she nearly shouts: “I got him! Keith Pem-” The rest goes under in the loud ring from JJ’s cellphone. “I’m sorry, but this is… (Y/N)’s school! I-” Hotch nods, giving her permission to take that call.

“Jennifer Jareau?” She can’t wait until she is out of the conference room. Now that they know who the UnSub is, JJ is more on edge than ever. “Uhm, Mrs Jareau, I call about your daughter, (Y/N). She is on her way to the hospital, she collapsed during the soccer game. We suspect an asthma attack, even though she used her inhaler.” The teacher on the phone gives her a few more information before hanging up.

“I-I’m - (Y/N), she is- hospital. Her inhaler.” In that moment she makes all the connections. “Garcia, look for the girl’s medical history. Pembroke exchanged (Y/N)’s inhaler, I’m sure he did. Look for it in the other girls. I have to go, she is at the hospital right now.”

In a way even Derek Morgan would describe it as reckless JJ speeds to the hospital, ready to fight any regulations keeping her from seeing her daughter sooner. “I’m here for (Y/N) Jareau. J-A-R-E-” She tells the woman at the reception breathlessly.

“Oh I got her. She is in room 99. (Y/N) was unconscious for a certain amount of time, but she is slowly regaining her senses. A doctor will meet you there.” Before she even finishes her sentence, the blonde leaves the desk into the direction of the appointed room.

In fact there is a doctor waiting for her, updating the mother on her daughter’s condition. “I advise you to not overwhelm her. Her mind is still foggy and there may be things that don’t make sense right now coming from her. But (Y/N) will make a quick recovery, being good as new in only a matter of days.”

Cautiously she enters the room. The teenager might be awake, but her mind clearly is elsewhere. “Hey, Honey. It’s me, your mom. How are you feeling?” JJ asks softly, taking her daughter’s cold hand into her own gently.

“Oh, hi Mom. I didn’t know you found the time to actually come here. Isn’t there like a bad guy out there waiting for you to slap some handcuffs on him?” Ouch, she doesn’t expect that kind of honesty. But it’s true and JJ knows what (Y/N) is talking about.

She sighs. “I’m sorry, Honey, for being seemingly absent from your life. I swear, you can’t imagine how proud I am of you. I mean, you play soccer and there might be a scholarship in sigh. And even if you don’t get one, you can do anything and I would still be proud to call you my child.”

(Y/N) turns her head around, looking deeply into her mother’s eyes. The blonde can see all the pain she brought onto her bundle of joy. “Mom, I don’t even enjoy soccer as much as you think. I only do this, because I thought there would be finally something we can bond over. But I clearly didn’t calculate your stupid job in.”

JJ kicks herself for overseeing her daughter this much. She never stopped to acknowledge her oldest child’s accomplishments in front of her team and family. She always told everybody in the BAU what (Y/N) is up to, if they asked or not is not her problem. But in the whole process the agent forgot the most important person, the one who reached all those goals.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry for letting you feel like I don’t want to partake in your life. I- I was just so invested in your life that I didn’t think about you. You don’t have to do anything that I like to get my attention. You can join the school band playing the triangle and I would practically make t-shirts for the whole team sporting your logo.

“Anything you do is enough for me. You don’t need to change yourself to appeal to others, not even me. I’m sorry for letting you down. I love you so much and I hope you can forgive me.”

It seems like (Y/N) needs a few seconds to comprehend her mother’s statements before answering them. “I just need a mom, who is there more often. That would be enough for me. Just once every three games is enough. To let my friends know you care. To let me know you care.” JJ gets tears in her eyes. She promises to be there more often, fully intending to keep that promise.

“Good, now that we have that sorted out I need you to come into bed with me. I feel I could sleep for at least a year because of Mr Pembroke’s really weird tasting substance in my inhaler. Can we just cuddle until I feel like I’m my old self?” JJ smiles while happily laying down next to her daughter, engulfing her in a hug, still being cautious of all the tubes she has going in and out of her.

“I love you so much, Honey Bun”, the blonde murmurs, stroking a few strands out of her daughter’s face. But (Y/N) is too tired to answer. She just nods and cuddles closer to her mother before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, JJ watches over her like a hawk. Not even Will is allowed to come closer to her than two meters (or roughly six and a half feet for Americans), not wanting anyone to disturb her daughter’s peaceful sleep.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[keanureevesisbae]

Episode 3: Similar Circumstances

Sergeant Hank Voight x Abigail Barlowe (asian ofc)

Summary: A young child is murdered and Abigail confides to her sergeant about the similar circumstances of the case to her personal life.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of murder.

Wordcount: 2k

Masterlist // fearless masterlist // season 1 masterlist

Her name was Felice Geralds. It had been easy to ID the victim, since she had everything on her. Her passport was placed next to her, together with her tiny backpack and her giraffe plushie.

The poor girl was only two years old.

The circumstances of her death are for now unknown, but kids being murdered is always painful. No matter whose child it is. 

This is my real case ever since I joined Intelligence. I did some paperwork, sure, but I had yet to solve and work a true case.

I just wished this wouldn’t be my first real Intelligence case. 

I stare as forensics are working the scene. With the rubber gloves on, I clench and unclench my fist, the squeaky sound the latex makes, hearable to me, as everything around me turns into white noise.

Sergeant Voight steps in between me and the crime scene, physically blocking my view. I look up and my eyes meet his. 

‘You okay?’ he asks me.

I shrug. ‘Sure.’

Almost like he feels for me, because he places a hand on my shoulder. ‘Look, it’s okay to take a step back every now and then. Cases like this can be tough.’

It’s not just tough. It’s eerily similar. Similar to the event I constantly try to forget, but when I do forget it, it eats me up alive because I feel guilty for not constantly thinking about it. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘It’s just that… I really want to find out who did this, sergeant.’

‘We all do.’ It’s clear he thinks about what he should do next. ‘Go back to the station,’ he says. ‘Find out about the parents what you can discover.’

‘Are you sure?’

He nods. ‘Yes, Abigail, I’m sure.’

It’s the first time he uses my first name, instead of ‘officer’ or my surname. I purse my lips into something that resembles a half smile, but I know for a fact it does not reach my eyes. Not even close. ‘Call me when you got a lead,’ I say. ‘Please.’

He nods again. ‘Will do.’

✧*̥˚🔎🔎🔎 *̥˚✧

‘Felice Geralds,’ I say, placing a regular picture of her on the board, because I am not ready to put the crime scene pictures on the board and I suspect I’m not the only one who feels that way. ‘Two years old. The daughter of Lia Monroe and Leonard Geralds. The two of them divorced a year and a half ago, because Leonard became emotionally abusive to Lia. Felice spends every two weeks the weekends at her father’s place. It’s an arrangement that has worked for them for that year and a half. Lia is now engaged to Evan Easton and he has a daughter from a previous marriage Katie Easton.’

‘Lia didn’t know something was wrong with Felice, since she got frequent updates from Leonard,’ Ruzek says. ‘However, we tried to ping his phone, but he dumped it in a bin not far from where we found the body. We’re currently trying to locate relatives and have put his picture out there on patrol. So far, no luck.’

I stare at the picture of Felice. Poor kid. Poor Felice Geralds. 

‘ME report states the little girl was drugged with Temazapam,’ Halstead says. 

Sergeant Voight divides the tasks, but I realize I’m not on any of these tasks. Instead, he pulls me aside and says: ‘Go to the family.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Because, I can tell you want to.’

Not because it’s an order. Because he saw I want to. I nod. ‘Alright, keep me posted, sir.’

‘Will do, Barlowe.’

✧*̥˚🔎🔎🔎 *̥˚✧

I stayed around the house with the family. Lia, Evan and Katie were crying, as expected. They were heartbroken and it hit me like a punch in the gut. However, I can tell they can visibly relax when I’m there. To have an Intelligence officer around, appears to put them at ease. 

I sit down next to Lia. I’ve made myself at home, by making not only myself a cup of tea, but also one for the grieving mother. I recognize myself in Lia. While she’s older than I was when I went through what she went through, the heartbreak is all the same. 

Her eyes are puffy, her snotty nose is read, however there are no tears. ‘I can’t believe she’s not here anymore,’ she whispers in a hoarse tone. Her eyes then meet mine. ‘My little girl is dead. How am I ever going to recover from that?’

‘First,’ I say, ‘you feel numb. Nothing matters anymore.’

‘Second?’

‘You’ll feel angry probably,’ I say, gently placing my hands over Lia’s trembling ones. ‘And eventually you’re able to semi continue on with your life. You’ll always remember, you’ll always mourn, but you are allowed to continue with your life, to be happy, which of course is easier said than done.’

She nods. ‘You… You know this?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ I whisper. 

It’s hard to say it out loud, but I do it anyhow. The thing with Lia is, she has a lovely husband, a sweet step daughter who is just as distraught. She told me her family is coming over from LA as soon as they can. She has a great support system.

I had my friends, but we were all in the middle of college. I got time off, my friends didn’t. My foster family were there for me, but with the hectics of still being foster parents, it was tough for them to be there one hundred percent for me.

It also didn’t help I didn’t accept their support, their comfort, because I was busy at being angry, in burying my sorrows and feelings underneath a facade of tough. 

I got this. I can handle this by myself. 

And emphasis on by myself.

✧*̥˚🔎🔎🔎 *̥˚✧

The day has turned into night. There is still no trace of Leonard Geralds, but according to Voight—who kept his promise and me in the loop—they are close on finding him. The family asked me to stay and because I literally have nothing better to do, I stay, turning this shift into a nightshift, since I know for a fact I’m not going to sleep anytime soon.

Lia, Evan and Katie are all asleep, while I’m taking a deep breath as I try to relax. My phone beeps and I bring the phone to my ear. ‘Barlowe.’

‘Hey.’ It’s short, sweet and enough for me to feel instantly relaxed. 

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

‘Nothing’s wrong. Just checking in on you,’ Voight says. 

‘We’re making progress?’

‘Leonard Geralds is practically untraceable. We’re trying. Obviously not hard enough. How’s the family?’

‘As great as they can be.’ I rub my face and sigh deeply. ‘I feel so useless.’

‘Don't be. You’re very valuable. It’s not always we have someone this close to the family.’

‘You’re just saying that,’ I mumble.

‘I’m not,’ he tells me. ‘You’ve got anything to tell me?’

I wonder if he knows about it. Even if he does, I am just not ready to tell. ‘Not yet,’ I whisper. 

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll be here when you want to.’

And then I hear it. I stretch out my neck. Since I wanted to be a little bit left alone and in the dark, I turned off all the lights, it appears everyone is asleep. 

‘Barlowe?’

‘I think I heard someone.’

✧*̥˚🔎🔎🔎 *̥˚✧

✧*̥˚🔎🔎🔎 *̥˚✧

I attended the funeral of Felice Geralds. The entirety of the Intelligence team and a few more officers made it to the funeral. I was the first of them to arrive, but also the first to leave. It hurt, it was painful to be dragged into pain, in mourning. 

I’m standing in front of the empty board, which only has a picture of Felice Geralds on it. She appears to be a smiley little girl. Giddy. A little mischievous. 

‘Hey,’ I hear from behind me and it’s the raspy voice of Voight, who sits on the desk close to me, staring at the picture as well. ‘How are you holding up?’

I shrug. 

‘Wanna talk about it now?’

For a second I hesitate, but then I manage to tear my eyes away from the picture, only to discover Voight was already looking at me. I cross my arms in front of my chest, chewing on the insides of my cheeks. 

‘I was nineteen when I found out I got pregnant,’ I say. ‘It was horrendous timing, really. My lousy ex and I were having issues, the pregnancy totally broke things off between us. I was still in college, had tons of classes to attend. But, I decided to keep the baby. My ex didn’t want to do anything with us, so it was just me, my friends and my little girl Jolie.’

‘Jolie,’ Voight says. ‘Means pretty in French, right?’

I nod. ‘That’s why I chose the name. She was pretty. A gorgeous little girl.’ I pull out my phone and find a picture to show him. It’s one of the last pictures I have with her. She’s sitting on my lap, a cupcake in her hand as I smile widely behind her. It was her second birthday and she was so excited about it. Her nose wrinkled as she laughed in exhilaration. 

‘Her birthday?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘This was a day before she was taken. My ex had broken into my apartment, grabbed her from her crib and when I woke up and couldn’t find her, I called the police. It took them three days before they found her body.’

And I have done so well to hide my feelings about it. But now I can’t. Hot tears spill over my cheeks. 

‘In four months,’ I sniffle, ‘she would’ve turned ten. Instead of celebrating, I’m going to be by myself for the eighth year in a row. Mourning.’

‘C’mere,’ he says as he stands up from the desk and pulls me in a hug. His strong arms are wrapped around my shaking frame. He places his chin on top of my head, as another sob escapes from my lips. 

Every memory I have of my little Jolie flashes in front of my eyes. When she was just born, her first steps, shared chuckles. Her first words. Our inside jokes. When she would sit with me in class back at college, where she was never fuzzy, always well behaved and sweet. How we spend time after time at the zoo, staring at the ostriches, as they were her favorite animal. 

And just like that, my little girl was taken from me. 

No first days of kindergarten, graduating, going on dates if she wanted to. I wonder how she would’ve grown up in a world like this. If I would’ve been an okay mother.

‘So,’ I mumble, as the cries has died down, ‘I quit college and became a police officer, thinking I could change this awful world a little for the better. I’m grateful to do so, but it’s cases like this… It was like I was watching myself from years ago.’

Voight pulls back, holding my face in his calloused hands, wiping the tears from my damp cheeks. ‘I’m sorry what happened to you,’ he says softly. ‘There are no words that can bring some comfort to losing your own child.’

Referring to himself losing his own son. The circumstances are different, but there is one common denominator: losing your own flesh and blood so abruptly. No parent should bury their own kid, no matter how old they are. 

‘It… It feels good to tell someone,’ I admit. I place my hands on his wrists, my thumb mindlessly caressing his wrists. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course,’ he says. 

I know that hugging your sergeant shouldn’t become a normal thing, however these aren’t normal circumstances. So I wrap my arms around his waist, nuzzling my face in his chest, letting out a deep sigh. 

‘My door is always open for you, Abigail,’ he says. ‘You know that right?’

I nod. ‘Yes, sarge, I know that.’

✧*̥˚🔎🔎🔎 *̥˚✧

Chicago PD taglist: @acdassenza // @wanniiieeee // @one-sweet-gubler

[bonny-kookoo]

Ready Player 01 | JJK x Reader | 🔞❤️☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: dystopia!AU, former Game developer!Jk, former pro gamer!JK, former IT specialist!Reader, former programmer!Reader, romance, Smut, slight cyberpunk elements

Warnings/tags: injustice, forcefully controlled public, violence (police/government officials against citizens), unfair powerplay, interrogation, tech talk, Jungkook be antisocial as FUCK but so is the reader lmao wbk, fear of physical contact (Haphephobia), past trauma and mentions of a bad childhood, insomnia, crime, smut because yes it’s me hello my content isn't kiddy-proof in the first place what yall want from me I'm not sure, but that’s waaY at the end ya know, friends to lovers, a slightly sassy AI but we love her, reader struggles with emotions, I mean same tbh, they're both so sweet tho I cant, not proofread because let me live

Summary: there’s a war going on; silent, but it’s there. Media has been strictly become controlled and regulated- to the point of making it illegal to own a TV or phone with internet access without a valid license. But there’s always some people that will try to break free from the controlling force.

"-a new age. This is a new year. And remember; we're doing this for the greater good. Until tomorrow." The news reporter stops talking after she somberly looks somewhere behind the camera that is pointed at her.

Your room is dark- the TV brightness on it's lowest setting so you can see what's going on- but outside, no one can see the light shining in your tiny apartment. Investing in blackout curtains had really paid off at the end of the day.

You don't want to get caught.

There's an announcement van driving past your window; the tiny slits in your curtains where the light from outside can creep its way inside brightening a bit as the headlights pass your windows. Something is spoken, and by now everyone knows the routine speech.

"Electricity will be shut down in five minutes. We advice to save all progress immediately- and we wish a good nights rest. Electricity will be shut down in five minutes..-" It repeats, over and over, counting down the minutes. You slowly move into your kitchen, opening one of the loose floor tiles to turn on your own emergency electricity system. With well practiced movements you close the tile again, moving the rug over it as you walk back into your living room, swiftly sliding the TV behind your wardrobe to make it disappear. As if on cue; there's a knock at your door.

The same as always. Routine. Two times, loud and clear. You don't even have to look through the peephole to know what awaits behind it.

"Yes?" You ask, rubbing your eyes as if you had been already asleep. The officer behind the door nods at you shortly, a mild smile on his face as he looks down at you.

"We didn't mean to wake you miss. Just routine, as usual." He says, peeking into your apartment to look for any electronics still running. It's pitch black however- so he simply nods, as his colleague notes something into his tablet. "We wish a good nights rest miss. Again, sorry for intruding." He apologizes, and you nod, closing the door.

Only when the street lights turn dark, do you move from your bed.

"Creator." The AI voice chimes up, her voice greeting you as as you lift the tile on the floor again- your phone connecting to the AI to show information you instantly decode and note down inside your head. "Player01 has just connected." The voice states, and you sit down on your cold kitchen flooring, smiling a little. "He has sent a message. Would you like me to play it?" The voice asks, and you take a deep breath.

"Yes." You say, and there's a small sound indicating the start of the voice message. A male voice is head.

"Hey, whats up?" He asks, and you can hear something in the background- maybe an empty can or something similar. "I uh.. I'm on my way. Should I bring anything? Ah wait, I know the answer to that.." He says, chuckling at the end of his sentence, and you can hear him zip up his jacket as he moves around. "Yeah uh.. just text or something, I'll bring stuff over. Can't have you starve." He ends, and the AI speaks up again.

"Would you like to repeat the message?" She asks, and you shake your head at her; a signal the artificial intelligence has come to detect quite well. "Should I archive it?" She questions again, and this time, you nod- something your invisible assistant can pick up due to motion sensoring.

"Send him a message." You say. "Tell him: I only need you. Get yourself here in one piece and I'm happy. And I'm very capable of taking care of myself." You state, and your phone shows a small loading message- indicating that the voice is doing as you said. It chimes up after a moment. "Thanks Kana." You say.

"No problem creator. Would you like for me to run through the databases now?" She asks, and you nod, a smile on your face. "Database search in progress. Estimated time: sixteen minutes and eighteen seconds." You huff out a breath as you look at the tiny display on your arm; tiny, yet powerful as it's your way of keeping Kana- your AI assistent- close at all times. Tonight, there would seem to be a lot to dig through.

They really added a lot of content these days.

It's not the door that makes you notice that there's a visitor after a while- He never uses it anyways for some reason. You're sitting on your kitchen floor with a small cup of tea in your hands- kept hot inside a slightly beaten-looking thermos can since you can't use to water boiler at night. Using anything other than Kana would cause a spike the police would be sure to notice; and you're not ready to get caught yet.

Not tonight.

It's a boy who, after a moment, opens the unclosed kitchen window to climb in; his combat boots getting a little snow and dirt from the outside into your apartment as his 80's looking jacket makes distinctive noises as it brushes against the sides of your window. His blonde hair has grown out a bit these days you notice- the roots clearly showing. It's a little wet and slightly curly from the moisture. It must be snowing outside- or maybe it had. You couldn't know for sure.

You never left your apartment.

He closes the window after slipping on the tiles inside a little, the plastic bags noisy as he almost drops them- sheepishly taking off his boots as he smiles at you. His socks are different from one another- but that's another thing so distinctive and just so.. him. He's his own person, always has been; it's what brought you two together, after all. You both stood out against the 'regular public' these days; with his brightly almost white-bleached hair he was like an albino in a sea of crows.

But you knew he didn't need that to stand out to you.

You can still remember the first few times the boy in front of you has visited you; the times where he had just dyed his hair to rebel out, or when he pierced your ears in exchange for you to do it to him as well. It was like you had made a blood pact in your kitchen that night- you had somehow gotten closer, formed a little more than just a simple companionship in order to riot against the law. He began growing close. Gave you a nickname. Began calling you his player 2. Began calling you his 'ace'. He had explained that he thought of it from memories of his gaming days; the two fighting teams always called red and blue, and one of his favorite weapons having that nickname- simply because it always 'saved his ass last minute'. He had rambled on about his last tournament after that, eyes sparkling and cheeks round from cold noodles.

You had become friends.

"hey." He says after sitting close across from you on the cold floor; the opened tile and Kana's core exposed to you two, the only source of light apart from your bracelet. The colorful LED's paint marks on his face and illuminate his features to you; but it does the same to you from his point of view. It's a familiar sight. "How are you?" He asks, almost shyly, but you know that's not what's bothering him.

"Hey Jungkook." You simply say with the hint of a smile, as you answer him. "Haven't slept well these days but, what's new I guess." You chuckle, and Jungkook smiles too- though a glimpse of concern is still shown your way. He knows however that forcing you to sleep won't do much good- your insomnia was too bad to really conquer it in a day or two just by taking naps.

And also; who was he to talk about solving personal issues.

"Have you seen the most recent reports?" You ask him, and the boy somberly shakes his head.

"I was unable to." He states. "They were patrolling close to my apartment complex because there had been someone reporting a Glitcher today." A 'glitcher'- a slang word now commonly used for people like Jungkook and you. People who went against the nightly routines, people who tried to trick the system by using electricity at night, owning media, consuming it, or dealing with it. It somehow became worse than underground drugs. "They pulled him out at around twelve or so- but they seemed too on edge the entire day, so I didn't risk it." He says, and you nod. Jungkook had always been a very good person when it came to calculating risk versus reward. He was good at reading people too- even though he didn't interact much, he got out of his apartment a lot more than you did. "Anything important?" He asks, and you shrug.

"There was a report that China and Japan were still on edge- with the chinese government arguing that they would soon start with 'more drastic measures to get things under proper control', whatever that means." You say, and Jungkooks brows furrow as he starts to pick on the skin of his jaw. "Let's just hope the flood doesn't throw us under the sea as well if it escalates I guess.." You say, and the boy across from you nods.

"Creator." Kana's voice chimes up, making Jungkook look up before remembering that the only source would be your bracelet, which you look at as well. "My scan of your body shows that you have not consumed a sufficient amount of calories today. I recommend a meal in the next five to eight minutes to avoid malnutrition." She says, and you groan. "I take this as a form of verbal communication. Running data search..." She says, as Jungkook looks at you; thoroughly amused by the teasing banter between the AI and his friend. "My data search concludes that you are annoyed, creator. I have only stated a fact however-" She continues, and Jungkook steps in.

"I've brought some leftovers from my dinner today we can eat." He says, pulling out some plastic containers as he moves to get proper cutlery out of your drawers. He makes sure to push them towards you, making sure to nod with a smile as you nod and thank him a little embarrassed. "It's nothing. You know I love you too much to let you starve!" He states with a grin, bunny teeth on full display as bitterness creeps up your throat- something you make sure to swallow down before beginning to eat.

Because the kind of love he's talking about right now, is not the kind of love you want him to feel for you.

"You forgot to give it a proper validation there-" He points out as you type away. "Otherwise it will just run instantly, and everything at once. That could crash older systems, and we know that V95 uses an older laptop, so we should take that into account." He says, and you nod, clicking back to the spot Jungkook is talking about.

This is what you're both good for.

Writing code for you had always been something you did with a passion- simply because you were good at it. Numbers and short phrases were something you could remember with ease; but you never had to think much about the visual aspect of programs in your department back when you were able to work for a simple programming company. You had simply always been tasked to program security systems and automatically updating firmware, or simple AI's for factory robots. Jungkook however had been all about the visuals; he had been programming games after all. That's why you two fit so well together in this scene. Whenever he would be in complete awe of the broad knowledge you had about official guidelines and security breaches, of staying undetected and unseen while still gaining as much as possible from every single line of code, he could always throw in his input to make sure the program you were both writing and updating for the glitch community was easy to use and simple enough so it could run smoothly on as many systems as possible. Be it phone, laptops, PC's- you two made it possible.

This program was connecting Glitchers all over the globe- and with yours and Jungkooks knowledge, you made it almost invisible. And even if it was somehow detected; there was no possible way to track down any of it's users.

The fact that you had to hide a simple program from the government made you sigh.

"Okay. Yeah I think that fixed the bug." He says, and looks at your arm- at Kana. "Oh, by the way, Kana?" he asks, and the chime gives him the cue to talk. "I heard you had a bug-fix too recently." He says, and the AI chimes again.

"I did, Player01." The AI answers. "The addition of code to my current program has proven to significantly increase my ability to observe and save more data." The female voice answers, and Jungkook grins. "You are happy, Player01." She states, and he nods.

"I am." He says.

"Why is that?" The AI asks, and Jungkook shrugs.

"I'm just happy you're doing well. Someone has to take care of ace when I'm not close by, yeah?" He states, and you try not to react to it. Jungkook is by now used to your more stoic expression; you're not too emotional and barely let things get under your skin. You've been hurt before, he knows this even if you never told him- he can see it in the way you hide inside the safety of your home, how you're so cold on the outside but still clinging onto him. Sometimes he wishes he could touch you; run his hand over your head to ruffle your hair like in those cheesy movies, hold your hand, or simply give you some reassurance in the form of a gentle hand on your back whenever you struggle.

But he's got his own demons, and they love clinging onto him just as much.

"V95 has connected to voice chat. Would you like to talk to him?" Kana states, ripping him out of his thoughts as he watches you nod.

"JK? Y/N?" A deep voice asks.

"We're here. Heard there was a raid close to you?" Jungkook asks, and he can see you grow a bit more serious at that. "Are you okay?" He adds, and V answers, although quite.. tired?

"I'm good. They got Jimin though." He states, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stand up, frustrated. Jungkook knows you're trying to calm down by pacing. He doesn't mind. "They didn't officially arrest him, took him for 'questioning' though. We know what that's about." He states somberly, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"Jimin is a master manipulator V. He'll get himself out of it, I'm sure." Jungkook tries to reassure, but it doesn't gain him much than a hum from Taehyung on the other end of the line. "What about Sleeper?" He asks, and a chuckle is heard.

"He's been checking the videofeed from inside the past few nights. He said he's send some of the big bites to Ace though?" He says, and Jungkook looks over at your form.

"Yeah I've seen it." You simply say, though Jungkook grows uncomfortable with the way you're suddenly standing there. You're a little hunched, biting the skin on your thumb as you look at the tiles as if they suddenly began to move. He knows himself that things inside the 'rehabilitation centers' weren't all that nice to see- but you rarely ever displayed so much distress over it. "Let's just hope Jimin get's his ass out of this situation. We can't afford to loose him." You say, and V stays silent before he sighs.

"Yeah. I tell sleeper you've seen the stuff. Oh, and our prince charming has asked for a date with Ace. Again." Taehyung chuckles, and you groan- while Jungkook can't help but clench his jaw. Kim Seokjin was a very good asset to the team; with connections reaching deep inside the government and his position as a former lawyer- but he still hated his guts.

You didn't need to waste your time dating. You were totally capable of taking care of yourself, you had even said it personally! And for anything else Jungkook would provide for you. You didn't need anyone else than him.

He was totally not jealous of him.

"Can he not use our underground connections for that circus?" You say. "I don't even go grocery shopping, why would I want to go on a fucking date?" You mumble, sitting down next to Jungkook as you take a spoonful of rice. Jungkook feels a weird sense of satisfaction about the situation.

"Who knows." Taehyung says. "Alright, 10 Minute mark- I'll hear from you two soon. Take care." He says, and you both say your goodbyes before the line goes silent.

Although Jungkook hates physical contact, he likes keeping you close.

His heart is melting like chocolate as he notes the way your hand grips his jacket tightly as the two of you walk through town to get your license renewed- a way of holding onto him, and he somehow wishes it could be his hand. He knows yours would fit so perfectly in his, and yet he can't bring himself to do it.

His body is not cooperating.

He remembers vividly how his fear had developed; with his father and mother both being dramatically overworked and overwhelmed with having a kid at a young age, they had no idea how to make a child behave. Every second touch would bruise, every time he had been held would be force.

And at some point, he started to dislike physical touch completely.

It had just been like his growing interest in freelance climbing- the way he would walk and jump high over the heads of unsuspecting people, away from all judgemental gazes they'd throw his way for behaving the way he did. Only when the wind could hit him freely, only when he couldn't make out faces of anyone down below, only when he was high up- that was when he felt safe. The ground below had nothing of interest for him, no point in going down, as his apartment was located on the top floor of the complex. Jungkook never took the elevator, always the stairs.

He liked being reminded how high he lived.

And yet, there's one thing that pulls him down, brings his feet to the earth below, calls him like a siren song. It's you, hidden away from everyone's sight inside your tiny home, just as troubled and judged as himself.

He'd fallen in love with you the second you told him his name.

It had been a rainy night, his clothes drying on your heater as he was wrapped in two of your blankets; the smell of your fabric softener and something so typically you surrounding him like a mother's hug would a child. It had given him a feeling of comfort he had never quite experienced before, and it had also been the first time he had imagined what it would be like to hug you.

To have you close.

He had explained to you why he had freaked out when you reached for his arm to steady him when he almost fell inside your apartment through your window; had apologized and bowed his head in shame until you had simply shrugged.

"You don't have to justify yourself to anyone, Jungkookie." You had said. Jungkookie. "You're you. And I like you." You had said, not looking at him as you typed in some code to Kana's internal system.

His heart had warmed up at that.

And while you had accepted him, he had accepted you just as much. While at first caught off guard by your quiet and sometimes harsh way of treating him, he had also gotten to know just how gentle and delicately you treated the ones you loved. You were a loyal person, always going out of your way to be helpful, and silently basking in praise any time it was directed at you.

He loved that view. The way your cheeks would grow warm, how your eyes would sparkle; and he loved most of all, that he had been, according to Taehyung who was the second closest to you, the only one to see you smile.

You even laughed with him.

It filled him with pride to know that you were able to let go around him, even if it was just a little. It made him feel like he did something huge. It helped him sleep at night knowing that you were trusting him enough to let down your guard a little.

And it hurt him even worse knowing that he couldn't do the same thing for you.

He was a coward-

and you deserved a hero.

"Ace?" He asked, slipping through your window as he noticed the apartment silent and dark. Nothing greeted him. "..Ace?" He tried again, maybe you were asleep? But your apartment was quiet, empty, nothing spoke of your presence. Dishes were in the sink, a cup of water left untouched on the counter, and something inside of him churned painfully at the way this looked. He checked the kitchen tile, sliding it to the side like he's seen you do it countless of times.

It was dark.

Instead, he was greeted by a post it note. "Underneath the bed. Take care." Was all it read. He stood up, pushing your bed away from the wall noticing how your carpet had been torn a little. And as he lifted the cut flap of carpet, there was an envelope.

Your watch. A small in-ear piece, and your old IT-identification, folded.

A noise outside your hallway made his head snap up as he pushed the bed back into place, making an escape for it as he climbed outside the window, watch safely inside his jacket as he climbed back up on top of a building, before he examined it further, turning it on, after putting the earpiece in.

"Hello, Jungkook." Kana greeted him, and it felt weird to hear the AI say his name like that. "Creator has advised me to answer all questions you might have, and assist you from here on." She said, and Jungkook simply put the watch on, making his way to his own apartment.

"What happened?" He asked, his face serious as he walked.

"At around 6:12 O'clock, creator was taken into further questioning regarding illegal possession and knowledge of classified information and technological equipment. She had shown no resistance and complied with authorities. My observations however showed that she was taken with more force than necessary." Kana explained. Jungkook shook his head. "She had prepared for this instance during the night, approximately twenty-six minutes after you had left."

"She knew?!" He suddenly said, shutting his apartment door violently as he started to pace around, throwing his jacket on the couch. "Why didn't she contact me?"

"Analysis; your body shows signs of-" Kana started, but Jungkook interrupted.

"Shut up. Why didn't she tell me?" He asks again, and Kana seems to hesitate for a moment.

"Considering her close relationship to you, she probably wanted to not get you involved." She stated, and Jungkook sighed, sitting down on his couch as he gripped his hair. He should've stayed. Hell, it wasn't the first time he wanted to stay. He had dreamed of staying over, of fucking living with you for months to no end by now, but he was a coward. And this was his paycheck.

"Kana." He said lowly, and the small tune gave him the cue to talk. "Contact V95. Tell him it's urgent. We got an emergency." He says.

"I can't watch this." He says, jumping up and holding onto his head as to not punch his wall, unable to go through the videofeed of your interrogation room.

There's not much to see, but Jungkook knows that's simply because they haven't had the time to see to you yet. You and him knew best what really happened in these rooms, and he hated knowing that deep down they wouldn't go easy on you simply because you were a young woman. It didn't matter to them.

He'd seen teenagers way younger than you and him getting the rough treatment before- and elderly didn't get spared either.

The government bragged about having everything in order; yet they couldn't even control their own law enforcement it seemed. When he really thought back on his history lessons in school, not much had changed at all.

The world was still in utter chaos.

His palm shuts his laptop harshly- earning a tiny chime from the AI he’s already forgotten shares his home with him now. “I suggest that you practice care in treating your electronics to-“ he groans, successfully shutting it off at that. “Why are you frustrated?” It- she? Asks, and he sits down.

“I don’t know how to help her.” He admits in shame, thinking back to the footage of your hidden camera; the way they had pushed you to the ground, before grabbing you, leading you out of your apartment a few minutes away from him. “I don’t know what I should do.” He says.

There’s a bit of silence, until the AI speaks up again. “Do you have a romantic interest in my creator?” She asks, and his head snaps up at that.

“What the fuck? Why would you ask me this?!” He barks, unsure where to look since he can only hear the voice.

“I have observed both my creator and your behaviors; you seem to have a very deep rooted interest in each others well-being and opinions. This is commonly found in partnerships. I was only asking you to confirm if my assumption is correct.”

He’s silent for a moment, until he speaks again, watching the announcement van pass his window; voices dull and unintelligible though the walls and windows. “It’s no use anyways. Who wants someone they can’t even shake hands with?” He sighs, looking into his lap again. He hates that he’s like this; that even though he very much loves and adores you, there’s no magic moment that makes him forget- even though he craves the contact, he can’t do it. Every time he’s close to you, he knows that he could simply hug you; or let you rest your head on his shoulder, like in romantic movies. He wants to hold your hand, wipe your tears- but his body won’t cooperate. He can’t do it.

Not even with you.

“Creator seems very comfortable with you.” The AI states. “I have been asked to archive all text messages and phone calls of you two recently. When I asked for a reason, she claimed she would need it someday- I was unsure what she meant.” Jungkook furrows his brow, raising his head again. “Sometimes, when creator is deeply upset, she has the habit of playing some of the recordings of you singing, or reminding her to take care. My research has shown that it slows down her heartbeat to a more normal level and also improves her insomnia.” Jungkooks eyes widen at that.

Does that mean.. that you like him back?

"Kana, fuck- cut the feed." He says, agitated.

"Are you sure?" She asks, and he sighs, before yelling his frustration out, sitting down to take a deep breath. He slowly shook his head no. He couldn't let all your hard work go to waste like this.

He couldn't stay a coward.

"Jungkook, it appears to be that the creator is being let go." Kana suddenly chimes up, and Jungkook rushes to his pc setup to see for himself. And she's right- your arm is being held tightly, and something is being said to you, but your hands are no longer chained to the chair- you're free.

What just happened?

Jungkook sometimes really hates himself for being the way he is.

There's no sugarcoating it that you need comfort now more than ever, even though you don't openly show it to him. He can see it in the way you're still biting your nails, he can see it in your eyes which never stay on one point for too long. And he can definitely see it in the bruises on your upper arm, and the cut on your lower lip where you had bitten in anger and frustration. He wants to comfort you, he knows you'd let him- and yet he can't move any closer than where he is right now; only the length of his palm of space between you two. And yet it's like his joints are locked into place. He can't touch you.

What if he hurts you?

And it dawns on him right then and there while he watches you drink your can of overly sweet soda while typing your code like second nature, that he's not scared of you hurting him. He's scared of doing to you, what's been done to him. Because deep down he is aware that his parents never had bad intentions, never hated him or wanted him to suffer; they were simply unsure and not at all confident in how to really care for a child. They had been caught off guard and gotten overwhelmed by the sudden shift in their situation that they never truly knew what to do. And nowadays he felt like he was simply heading down the same road.

He was starting to feel like he was becoming just like them.

"Hm?" You ask him, ripping him out of his thoughts as he looks at you, your eyes wide and worried as you put down your almost empty can of soda. "What is it?" You ask him, and he wants to scream. He wants to throw a fit like a child at the way you seem to worry for him every time you should worry for yourself. He's a coward, he's useless, he's everything you don't need nor deserve in his eyes, and yet you always look at him like he's the main character of your favorite movie.

If he was, he was sure he'd be merely a sidekick- because you deserved to be the focus of every story told in his eyes. And if you weren't included in the tale, he knew he didn't want to ever know about it.

He swallows, before he manages to make his hand move, finger pointing at your arm where a green-ish bruise already formed. "Does it hurt?" He asks, and he's not even sure if he's asking you about the bruise, of if he's asking something else. He doesn't know what he's saying, doesn't even know if he's asking you or himself.

"No." You answer, and he looks at you, searching for any hint of a lie in your eyes. But he only sees that slight smile, lips turned a little, almost unnoticeable. But its there, he can see it, and he wants to print it into his mind to never forget it. You were so observant, knew him so well, that he was almost certain you knew of his inner fight and what he really meant with his blurted out question. "Are you okay?" You ask him, and he swallows again, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his body grows rigid like an unoiled machine, only moving with as much force as he can manage to come up with. His breathing is heavy as his eyes can't leave the spot on your arm, and your watch him with wide eyes as his shaking hand slowly reaches out.

He doesn't know what he expects to really happen.

Maybe like those electric shocks you get when someone had rubbed their socks on a carpet before touching someone else. Maybe he had expected to recoil instantly. Maybe he had expected nothing- but he was suddenly in a rush the moment his fingertip touched your warm skin, delicate, soft, everything his rough hands weren't.

And you were still as prey in front of a wolf.

But the wolf in this scenario was holding his breath while his tears finally fell. He wants to speak, but he can't, he doesn't know how to ask for something when he doesn't even know if he wants it.

But suddenly he moves again, his palm now resting fully against your upper arm, shaking, as it moves over the length of it, softly, as he imprints the way your soft skin feels. "Jungkook.." You whisper out, and he suddenly snaps, leans forward, his legs on either side of your body as he snakes his arms around you from behind, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel him shake as he holds you, his cheek resting against your back and you don't care about his tears staining your shirt as he suddenly cries openly and possibly for the first time since he was a mere child.

He's unsure, overwhelmed, because you're so warm, you smell so nice, you're so soft, and he can't let go, doesn't want to let go. He whines out as you turn a bit as he thinks you're moving away but you're simply placing your legs over his as you sit in his lap, hugging him back as you make sure to give him a gentle squeeze.

He calms down after a long while of simply existing. Of breathing you in, of feeling you. "You're right." He whispers into your neck, and you can't help but shiver, leaning into his hug.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

"You know, I get why you come up here." You comment, as Jungkook makes sure to hold your hand tightly in his, your feet dangling off the edge of the building you're sitting on top of. "It's nice." You say.

He's not listening that well though.

All he can really do is watch your face, illuminated by the neon lights of the city, hair swaying in the wind as you look down below. He doesn't quite know what you two really are, doesn't know how long it will take him to really come out of his shell and give you the love you deserve, but he's trying. He's fighting, he's left his cowardly self behind.

He want's to change.

And not just for you alone, because while he hates seeing you hurt, he knows what you two are doing- what all of you are doing- is for the greater good.

Jungkook hates your ideas sometimes.

Simply because he knows they will work, but also end up with you getting into danger at the end of it. And just like now, all he can do really is hope that you make it out as he keeps a watchful eye on your movements from above, giving you directions via Kana as you sometimes trip and stumble a little.

You're not a very active person; running wasn't really your thing.

Fuck, you were basically a hermit, the most you walked around was from your bedroom into the kitchen!

But then again, sacrifices had to be made somewhere. And Jungkook really admired you; because every time he thought that you had reached your limit, you would face it head first and break through it.

"Ace, try and somehow get to higher ground. They're caging you in from all sides." He urgently tells you as he watches police chase you down the roads, pushing citizens aside to not loose sight of you.

The plan had been simple. Gain all the attention so Taehyung could infect one of the police station's servers with a new worm, giving you all a better and easier access to any data and communication of the area. Jungkook couldn't play the bate well enough; and you had been on their radar already, making you the best option to gain their interest quickly enough.

Although Jungkook hated that part.

"Come on, ah fuck it." He grits out, jumping down to grab a ladder, making his way to a nearby area he could pull you up. There was no way you could reach any of the fire ladders yourself, and by now, things were getting too hot for him to risk anything. "Here!" He barks out, not thinking twice about grabbing your hand and helping you upwards, trying not to worry too much about your heavy breathing. And then there's it.

A pop, loud, followed by another, and another, and another. You're suddenly falling, scraping your knees on the ground below as he can't catch you, too startled by the fact that they had actually decided to shoot to react quick enough. "Fuck!" He says, eyes wide and pupils blown as he looks at you.

"Jungkook, why the fuck aren't you running?!" You yell at him, a scratch on the top of your left cheek as you push his leg away from you- the only thing you can reach. "Go!" You bark again, and he growls out something, before he manages to pull you onto his back, adrenaline not letting his brain process what he's doing.

He can't just leave you.

"Taehyung, get out, Ace has been shot. Whatever was uploaded has to be enough." He says via the in-ear piece, doesn't wait for a response. He still gets it.

"Fuck, what?! Okay okay, I'm out" He says, and Jungkook can only catch a glimpse of the older man leaving the building via the backside entrance. He's only concerned with getting you somewhere safe.

"Urgh." You groan, slowly sitting up on Jungkooks couch. "I mean, I know paintball hurts, but rubber bullets? Jesus.." You complain, while Jungkook looks at you with a dark expression. "What?" You ask him, and he huffs.

"You sound like you haven't almost been killed yesterday." He grimly says, and you shrug. "Stop. I'm serious." He tells you, and you let yourself fall back down onto his couch.

"Whatever. At least we killed their communication." You say, closing your eyes. "Must've at least pissed them off." You say.

"Kana." Jungkook suddenly says, waiting for the familiar sound to tell him she's active. "Shut down for now." He says, and you sit up, hissing instantly at the sudden movement.

"Hey- ah fuck!" You say, as you watch on your bracelet how Kana complies; shutting down. "Why would you do that?" You say in an offended matter, before you grow quiet, watching him go onto his knees in front of you, as he lets his head rest on top of your lap.

"I just want.. you to myself. Just.." He mumbles, and you slowly bring your hand to his hair. "Just for a moment." He says, and you sigh. Jungkook had been under a lot of stress recently, you no doubt being the main cause of most of it recently. So you simply let him be, as he closed his eyes. "Y/N?" He asks suddenly, and you answer him. "I love you." He says, and your body stops moving.

What?

"It's okay if you don't." He says, not moving from his spot, and neither opening his eyes. "I mean it. I only want you to know." He explains further. "Because I.. couldn't fucking live with myself if something happened to you, and I've never told you." He admits, and you can't help but stare at him. Jungkook looked down on himself so much that it was sometimes frustrating to see; simply because you saw him as such an amazing human being with countless talents and beautiful flaws.

You knew you couldn't muster up the strength to actually answer him; not so spontaneously. You weren't that expressive, you couldn't communicate as freely and colorful as he could. All your words seemed black and white to you, mixing into grey and mundane sentences while his words seemed to bloom into the most amazing paintings. He had a way of charming those around him- and he didn't even know.

You slowly leaned down instead, moving his hair to the side as you placed a feather-light kiss to the top of his cheek, close to his eye.

You hoped he would somehow understand you.

And as he moved again, looking at you with eyes that sparkled brighter than any city's skyline ever could, you knew he did.

He'd always understand you, no matter how you communicated with him.

You didn't need words to understand each other.

The shy kiss you two shared, bathed in the purple glow of the neon lights outside his window, spoke enough.

"You should try and sleep." Jungkook tells you, taking away your can of soda as you whine at him. "No buts. Come on, I'll finish this for you." He says, and you let him take over the keyboard of your laptop. It's something you really only let him get away with- anyone else would've probably lost a finger or two trying to touch your work.

You don't trust anyone but him at this point.

"I know that Kana snitched." You comment, as you lean your back against his shoulder. He chuckles. "Can't believe my own creation goes behind my back like that." You mumble, and Jungkook has a light tune to his voice as he speaks.

"Well, it's a good thing though." He tells you. "I worry about you." He says.

"Ugh come on, you know that's not the part I meant." You laugh, and he grins.

"Oh, you mean the part where you listen to my crappy ass singing to help you sleep?" He tells you with a teasing undertone. "No wonder you got insomnia trying to find rest to that." He chuckles, and you playfully hit his thigh.

"Shut up, your voice is nice." You say, and he's glad your eyes are closed, and you can't see him blush.

Somehow, moments like these re-energized him again. Because it proved to him that there was still a piece of that innocent and untainted you inside that thick shell you had put up to protect yourself. And considering that you let him see you like that made his pride grow taller than any of the skyscrapers of his city.

Maybe one day the two of you will have a future together that won't be so difficult and unfair like your current one was. Maybe one day, you both will have changed enough to teach the next generation about what you've overcome.

But then again; living in the moment seemed to fit a lot better in his eyes, as he watched you sleep soundly against his shoulder.

Yeah, this moment was more than enough for now.

The world won't change over night- you both know that. All of you know that. But small things were starting to make a difference here and there; for example, the letter you held towards Jungkook as his eyes widened.

"..and we have officially decided that we no longer want to participate in the case against the defendant. The result of this agreement is that all charges against Y/N L/N have been dismissed and are no longer being investigated." He reads out loud, almost whispering as if saying it too loud could make it a lie. "They let you go?" He asks, and you nod, the small bandaid on your cheek making you look even cuter in his eyes as you shrug.

"Jimin had reached out too. They've let him go home as well." You say. and Jungkook huffs out in disbelief.

After infecting the police station with the worm you had all worked on, you had scared the entire country enough to take a step back from the overall aggressive tone. It wasn't much- but it meant that they knew you were there. You existed, and you were not bowing down.

You were still untamed.

Jungkook smiled brightly as he put the letter down to the side, reaching out to you to pull you onto his lap. He simply holds you for a moment, his lips kissing the skin of your shoulder as if in a trance. "I love you." He tells you, and you smile, squeezing him a bit in your arms. "I really do." He assures you, and you nod.

You don't answer him, and he doesn't seem to mind as he leans back from you, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grins, hands holding your face so delicately as he places a kiss onto your lips, making you close your eyes as he breaks away from you, letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

He's still not letting anyone very physically close other than you; he's still scared of going out and around like everyone else. You're still rather hiding inside his apartment- both of your apartment now- and you still have trouble sleeping.

But Jungkook keeps the nightmares away.

And you make him brave in exchange.

It's really weird to hear the sound of a radio nowadays.

Things are still far from normal- but recently, citizens had been given radios to listen to public broadcast again. It only played crappy music with some rare good tracks here and there, but it was better than nothing.

Jungkook couldn't help but think that your breathless voice was far more entertaining than any music station he can remember from his youth.

While he hates touching other people, even friends and family, he can't help but feel a rush whenever he touches you.

His hands can't stop on one specific spot, can't seem to stay still even for a moment as his lips nip and suck at the flesh of your neck and shoulder, marking what's his, visualizing that you really belong to him. He bears the same mark on his collarbone from last night, and he should have been satisfied, but even an early morning couldn't keep him away from you.

The rain hit the window harshly, but he didn't notice at all. All his eyes could see was your form underneath him, skin glowing as he moves above you, euphoria filling his veins as he can't look away from where you're connected, where his cock disappears inside of you over and over and over again.

"I love you." He breathes out as he comes undone, holding you close, resting his head against your shoulder, as you hold onto his arms, a smile, a genuine and big smile thrown his way as he can't help but smile along.

"I love you too, Jungkook." You say, and he chuckles.

The radio in the background still playing, as you lay in each others' arms.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please stop reposting my content on AO3 thinking I won't find it. I'm literally everywhere you clowns.

To everyone else: Thank you for reading this mess- I really apologize for the messy storyline, but I just wanted to put this out before the entire thing escaped me again and I would end up struggling to find my way back into it (cough cough flashback to mean lmao). I promise to somewhat post more regularly. Thank you for your kind words and for sticking with me!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 3 - F#$k the Police

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: What’s happening in Romania? For awhile you’ve had the best time with Bucky all to yourself, but now, it appears the world is not done with you two just yet.

Warning: tinge of fluff, violence, fighting, reader being a bad bitch, Bucky going through it, Steve metaphorically herding cats (Bucky, reader, T’Challa), some google translate (I hope its right)

Masterlist

Leaning against a telephone poll, you adjust your darkly tinted sunglasses before stuffing your hands back into your jacket pockets. Hood up and stance as casual as ever while you patiently await your dark haired lover, who at this moment happens to be purchasing some plump and juicy looking plums.

Doing his best to appear relatively unrecognizable, Bucky walks over to you in his usual faded ball-cap, layered jacket, and black gloves while you give him a nod of acknowledgment as he quickly approaches. Soon he’s by your side and the two you begin walking towards the street where you’ll be crossing.

“Y/N, you think these ones will taste good?” Wonders Bucky as he shifts his gaze to you for a wise answer, like you magically are able to tell if these random plums are sour or not.

You shrug, “Probably.”

He stares uncertainly down at the plums, “They were kind of sour last time.”

Throwing him a humored glance, you keep walking, “Did you tell her that? Maybe she would have given these ones to you for free.”

“Well.....no.”

Retrieving your dark tinted sunglasses from the bridge of your nose before shoving them in a pocket, you throw a glance back over at the plum cart, nudging Bucky, “I’ll steal some again and then we’ll compare what days they taste good and what days they taste bad. Maybe that will help out your plum dilemma.”

“You’ve stolen plums before?” Whispers Bucky in bewilderment like you just stabbed a guy in broad daylight, “Y/N.” He whines, “We can’t be stealing things! We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Rolling your amused eyes at his fearful concern over something so tiny, you playfully tug against his grey jacket, “Stealing some plums is the least unlawful thing I have ever done moya lyubov' now come on.” You muse with a reassuring grin.

Wanting to protest, he chooses against it when he hears you call him my love in Russian; that’s new, he think warmly, you’ve never said anything that deeply intimate before. He could certainly get used to it.

Coming to a halt, the two of you patiently wait for the roadway to clear up, but while you’re standing there in the open, you skillfully take notice of some man in his mid thirties with a half eaten lollipop positioned in his right hand. He leans against the counter from behind a newspaper stand, where two curious greyish blue eyes give yourself and then Bucky a wary look as he begins to squint suspiciously. Soon his gaze trails over you both again like he’s trying to solve a 1000 piece puzzle, but can’t quite tell just yet which piece goes next. How odd, you think.

“Nothing is ever odd, there is reason for everyone’s intricate behavior, always be on guard.” Speaks a whisper from your past days training with Hydra.

Glancing over to Bucky, you notice as he starts to appear rather uncomfortable since he’s realized the stranger is staring. What a nosy little weasel, why would he give a shit about us? Tugging on his sleeve, you begin taking the lead across the four-way, the weaselly looking mans eyes go wide in genuine fear as he turns and books it out of the booth like a bat out of hell. Racing past annoyed civilians as they go about their normal business.

Brows furrowed in confusion you hastily reach the newspaper stand and flip a paper around only to be greeted with greatly troubling words printed aggressively in big black letters reading...

 -WINTER SOLDIER CÂUTAT PENTRU BOMBARDMENTUL DIN VIENNA- 

...with a blurred security footage picture of Bucky’s shadowed face walking suspiciously by a white van in presumably a parking garage.

On further inspection lower down the page, you take notice of the alarming words below, translating to...

 -On international watchlist; Possible accomplice suggested at place of crime, Y/N Valerious is being investigated into for feasible involvement with one credited for bombing. Investigators advise great caution if seen and require a report immediately upon recognition.-

Paired with a blurred fuzzy head shot taken from CCT footage in 1997 after you sliced your way through a notorious drug cartel in Colombia.

Shit. And how the fuck did they find that picture?

Bucky quickly rips it out of your hands and stares frustratingly at the parchment, eyes focused on the concerning news as he flickers his attention back down at you, “Y/N?” He mutters uncertainly, face appearing increasingly distraught as he looks to you for an answer.

Glancing warily around the crowded area, you swallow nervously before finding his uneasy gaze once again, “I really need to stop speaking ahead of myself....fuck.....we need to leave.” You urge, tugging on his arm to move, you let go as the two of you head back to your shared apartment.

Eyes glancing warily around you the whole way there.

——

Walking quickly up the steps, you suddenly catch the scent of an unknown man leading right into the cracked door of your apartment, Bucky halts as you remain still as stone, nose crinkling as you test the air.

“Y/N?” He whispers unsurely as you shush him.

Sensing this stranger isn’t here to fight due to the lack of aggressor pheromones extruding from out of his system, you both cautiously walk into the room, on guard as you move more silently then an owl in flight, he doesn’t hear a thing. Quickly you visually analyze a tall man in dark blue with a helmet tightly fitted against his head, standing relatively still with his back turned to you two. A familiar shield held strongly from his left forearm as his head looks down at the journal positioned in his right hand. 

Bucky’s journal.

Standing defensively side by side with Bucky, the uniformed man suddenly turns around; his eyes are a dark ocean, yet soft and set; a faded white A sits just above his eyes and a dull white star appears in the center chest area of his stealth suit. This is without a failing doubt Captain America, but what does he want with you two? 

Breathing steadily he gives the two of you a once over before focusing on Bucky, “Do you know me?” He asks, voice calm and collected. Not an ounce of aggression.

Your eyes flicker cautiously from Bucky then back to the stranger as he takes a slow breath, “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

[They’ve set the perimeter] -speaks a disembodied voice from Steve’s earpiece, only yourself and Steve are able to pick it up.

What the fuck does that mean?

The American sets Bucky’s journal onto the kitchen table as he shifts in place, your fists instinctively clench in preparation for a possible clash as Steve’s perceptive gaze shifts warily from your hands up to your watchful glare; he must know about you, “I’m not here to fight.” Confirms Steve with a small nod before turning to Bucky, “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna, we both weren’t. I don’t do that anymore.” Mumbles Bucky truthfully, you’ve been with him for months now and neither of you have even left the city so how the hell did his blurry photo get printed onto the daily newspaper?

[They’re entering the building.] -speaks the voice.

Steve takes an urgent yet cautious step forward, clearly something terrible is about to go down for the three of you, if the guy on the ear piece wasn’t telling enough, “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. For both of you. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.” Warns Steve sincerely, voice steady and true.

Bucky’s lips nervously purse together as he mutters unenthusiastically, “That’s smart. Good strategy.”

[They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.]- says the voice, more urgently this time.

Suddenly your ears pick up the sounds of heavy boots as they pound against the large spiraled staircase, squeezing your eyes shut in irritated anticipation, you open them to face the soldier, “Well this is fucking fantastic.” You seethe through clenched teeth, accent dripping strong as you shake your head in frustration.

Steve gives the two of you a pleading look, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” He urges as you both stand like a nervous predator, unsure if their prey is going to put up a deadly brawl to the death or not.

Giving him a hooded grimace, your eyes shift from the front door then back to him as you begrudgingly mutter, “It always ends in a fight.”

Looking away, he nods towards Bucky, “You pulled me from the river.” Starts Steve as Bucky hastily removes the black glove covering his metal arm, “Why?”

Bucky huffs, reluctant eyes dancing over to Steve’s, “I don’t know.”

[Three seconds!]- says the voice.

“Yes, you do.”

[Breach! Breach! Breach!]

Yells the voice frantically just as the left window shatters as some can sized metal bomb crashes onto the floor, the three of you immediately turn towards the harmful object right as Bucky kicks it, Steve coming to the rescue as he covers the bomb with his shield. Boom! It goes off, leaving everyone to live another day, or at least for the next minute.

A second later you hear insistent shouting in German just as Bucky grabs the mattress, he shields himself with it as his other hand pulls you to his chest protectively just as a destructively lesser bomb ignites against it from the now broken window.

Pulling out of his grasp, Bucky tosses it aside before kicking the small kitchen table where it lodges itself tightly against the front door. Turning towards the two windows positioned on your right, you’re immediately greeted with the breaking of glass as two heavily equipped combat police burst rudely into the room, heavily armored in tactical gear and ready to kill.

Well, shit.

At an inhuman speed you swiftly grab the first mans gun and point the steel barrel upwards just as he shoots, avoiding killing Bucky if you were a second late; your eyes turn angry as you swing your fist, knocking him unconscious from your blow to his helmet.

The second man shoots a line of bullets that scream angrily into the ceiling when Steve thrusts his gun away from you two, knocking him out in the process. Immediately another soldier breaks into the room from the bathroom door by Steve, gun at the ready as Steve shoves his weapon to the side where Bucky then harshly kicks him in the chest. Sending the intruding soldier into the bathroom, presumably with a hefty concussion.

But before Bucky is able to continue onward, Steve quickly grabs his arm, “Buck, stop!” Instantly he twists out of Steve’s grasp, giving his old friend a deadly glare, “You’re gonna kill someone. Both of you!” He snaps, stormy eyes shifting from you to Bucky just as your Winter Soldier shoves him to the ground by his collar before lunching his metal arm violently into the floorboards right next to his head.

Glaring at Steve, he growls, “I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Before pulling his arm out of the broken wood, travel backpack in hand; he stands and immediately throws it out the broken window about ten stories onto another rooftop below.

Standing in the middle of the ruined apartment as you face them, another soldier crashes through the broken window to your left, Bucky and Steve brace for the worst as the man pauses for a moment, gun facing the floor. Moving swiftly, you quickly unsheathe your razor sharp Adamantium claws out of your right fist before cleanly slicing his weapon into three consecutive pieces.

Shouldn’t have hesitated fucker.

The broken gun clashes to the floor as the soldiers eyes flash with fear before you roughly push him against the wall, grimacing in anger, right hook cocked back as you suddenly thrust a clawed fist directly into his shoulder. He lets out a pained gravelly scream as you pull away to face Bucky and a wide eyed Steve, the injured soldier sliding down the wall to the floor as he applies pressure on his newly bleeding wound.

A second later two more men come racing into the room as your victim slumps to the side once you kick him in the head, unconscious but still breathing as small drops of blood seep out of his affected shoulder. He’s someone else’s problem now.

Steve raises his shield as bullets deflect off the metal, soon Bucky throws his metal arm up; deflecting multiple bullets as Steve takes out a guy on the balcony. Bucky in the meantime has managed to knock the gunman out with a cement brick as you retract your claws back into your fist.

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

Pounds loudly against the locked front door as bullets crash into the hinges, soon Bucky races for the thin wood and thrusts his metal fist into the door without a second thought. Seconds later he breaks down the door, knocking out two guys in the process as you slip past him and into the long staircase hallway that only goes in two consecutive directions, up or down.

Shit, more are coming up the stairs!

A soldier promptly breaks through the overhead glass window from the roof and ascends on a thick black rope, shooting at Bucky who easily deflects his bullets before you kick the man into the wall, knocking him out instantly. Body limp and peaceful as he hangs suspended mid-air in the center of the rounded stairwell, you quickly look down to witness the tiny army of combat police hellbent on ruining your perfectly fine day. 

Well, not much of a fine day anymore.

Without time to process much, you watch as more soldiers charge up the stairs, guns ready to fire; suddenly Bucky jumps on the knocked out man hanging from the ceiling and falls to the next landing below as he uses the unconscious soldier for a sort of pully system, knocking out more police as they try and fight him off once he lands.

Blinking, you jump down without assistance but your own fearsome willpower before shoving a guy down the stairs, who conveniently trips up others in the process. But at least eight more are racing to finish their job, right on cue another soldier meets on your landing as Bucky fights off one from behind you.

Before he’s even able to pull the trigger, you’ve sliced his weapon in half, kicking him harshly into the wall, doing the same to his friend as you fight your way along the staircase, skillfully avoiding bullets and fists alike. 

Turning around to the sounds of Bucky grunting, your eyes trail up and watch as he throws a man over the edge of the railing. But before anything bloody happens, Steve swiftly catches his dark collar much to your disappointment. He then heroically throws the man elsewhere as the fighting starts up again.

Soon Bucky nearly gets his lights knocked out as an armored gloved mitt comes flying for the back of his head; your fist however, breaks the guys jaw with a loud crack as you save your lover from an unfortunate injury. Bucky then gives you a quick nod of silent appreciation before you look up the staircase to see a disappointed Steve. oh, fuck off.

Huffing in irritation, you nudge Bucky to make a swift exit out of here; heeding to your urgent request he knocks another guy out before jumping down a multitude flight of stairs, grabbing onto the closest railing and tearing it back with a pained cry as he uses it to maneuver himself onto the landing.

Alright, time to go.

Breaking a soldiers arm, you proceed to do the same; arriving roughly on the cement landing as you skillfully tuck and roll before jumping up into a standing position and taking a moment to watch as Bucky races down the hallway before jumping off the corridor balcony.

Taking a deep breath in preparation for the jump to come, you book it down the same hallway and soon are free falling while quickly headed for the rooftop below. The damn roof ledge comes faster then you’d anticipated; landing hard against the protruding edge, you grunt in pain before rolling across the roof a couple feet while Bucky picks up his backpack mid run.

With no time to dwell on the burning ache in your shoulder, you push yourself from the ground as you race to catch up with Bucky who’s a good ten feet from you by now. He listens as you grumble a string of incomprehensible swears in displeasured Russian, but keeps running forward as he knows you’ll be right behind him in an instant.

Boots smacking hard against the rooftop cement, you’re almost caught up with Bucky when without so much as a warning does a dark silent shadow appear in your line of sight from directly above you, a second later you’re forcibly thrown into one of the metal conditioning system units, eyes wide and head in a daze. Only to be greeted with a man dressed in a black catlike stealth suit of some strange armor, where he soon begins hand to hand combat with Bucky.

Fuck that hurt. Asshole, you growl miserably.

Bucky dodges and throws skilled yet desperate punches at the mystery individual, although neither of them appear to take any real damage, fortunately for Bucky’s dwindling safety, but not for this other guy. Shaking the fuzziness out of your head, and ignoring the small trickle of blood leaving a red stain from the side of your temple, you hastily jump to your feet and charge the armored bastard as he throws Bucky into another conditioner unit.

Making a clean dent in the thin metal, Bucky’s eyes widen in genuine fear as the angry panther brings his shimmering silver clawed hand into the air, ready to strike. Cornered, Bucky braces for the worst with his metal arm blocking his face just as you seize the panthers forearm.

He abruptly turns his armored head towards you, and is thus kindly greeted with a swift punch to the face that sends him rolling across the rooftop a couple feet away from you and Bucky. Tumbling for a moment, he instantly regains his footing while silver colored claws slash thin sparking lines of gold across the cement as he stops dead in a predatory crouched position.

Well, now he really looks unhappy.

Bucky watches as the panther slowly rises to his feet, looking rather angered by your violent intrusion; breathing heavily, you stare down the fucker before a slow ‘shling’ sounds from out of your clenched fists. The panthers head tilts curiously, closely resembling that of an actual feline as he witnesses a total of six razor sharp claws protruding dangerously in the sunlight.

“Alright. Now we’re even.” You growl darkly as the panther charges for an attack, within seconds yours claws clash violently against his armor as he swipes for an opening to cause some real damage.

Bucky rises to his feet as he watches you and the panther fight like old enemies, sparks fly like confetti as your claws slash against his strange suit while the two of you dance in a rhythmic warriors tango, strangely on the rooftop of some Romanian hotel while Steve remains elsewhere for the time being. 

Anticipating another blow from you, the panther blocks it and finally gets a clean shot of your face, soon you’re on the ground in a blurry daze before shaking your head while you rise to your hands and knees. Okay fuck this guy.

Drops of ruby red blood patter onto the cement as your face turns into a pissed off scowl, both the panther and Bucky watch in anticipation as you dramatically turn around to face them. Three clean slashes mark deep from your right hairline, across your cheek, where finally it relents at the base of your jaw.

You sneer in vexation as your skin fuses ripped muscle and blood vessels back together in a matter of seconds, then without warning does a helicopter appear from above where it rudely begins raining bullets onto the three of you.

Fuck this.

Luckily the artillery is deflected away from Bucky as it hits the panther first, unluckily for you, a couple strays vigorously drag themselves in and out of your shoulder and torso. A sharp white hot paint rips through your vessel causing your legs to buckle, falling to the ground, you instantly scream out in agony when the unpleasant sensation fully registers in your brain, as Bucky’s face turns to worry then anger.

Soon the bullets stop as the helicopter gets pushed off course by some man in a bird suit. Well today really couldn’t be any weirder, what’s next Ironman? You sarcastically think before reluctantly forcing yourself onto your feet only to be welcomed by the worried face of Bucky as he grabs your bleary attention, “Let’s go, we could make it to the underpass.” Affirms Bucky as your strength comes to you once again, muscles fusing back together, the pain fading swiftly.

“Yeah, fuck this.” You retort as he turns and swiftly jumps off the roof and onto another ledge below a you do the same, claws slashing down the buildings side as you do so. But all too soon are you greeted by the metal on metal screeching of the panthers claws as he slides down the side of the same apartment building, closer then you’d like. “Fuck.” You mutter, deeply irritated by this dickhead who won’t give either of you a break.

Not wanting to face the wrath of his shiny sharp claws, you quickly retract yours before you and Bucky instantly turn and jump the rest of the way down, landing skillfully onto the grey sidewalk below before booking it out of there as the panther aggressively chases onward. Steve not far behind, though you don’t care nor have the time to look.

Racing across the city road, bullets fly by the two of you as the opening to the cities subterranean underpass greets you with open arms. Shuffling past some small bushes, Bucky jumps down first, you right behind him as your world turns into a hasty blur. Soon everything comes to an abrupt halt once your boots smack hard against the surface of the roads blacktop.

The sounds of angry car horns blare loudly in your ears as a couple vehicles swerve to the side, just narrowly missing yourself and Bucky, “Come on!” You shout urgently before twisting around and booking it down the underpass with Bucky close behind.

Running at an inhuman speed, you pass cars and trucks alike as they swerve to avoid the two of you, about fifteen seconds later you’re greeted to the all to familiar whirring sounds noisily emitting from the local police cruisers as they hastily follow yourself, Bucky, Steve, and the panther across the highway tunnel.

“Ugh, move!” You snap in irritation before deciding to jump up and run across a green convertible, Bucky almost smiling as he races on the blacktop next to you, continuing onward as you land and race for safety or cover or anywhere away from this mess.

“Left!” Shouts Bucky as you both reach the area where the two huge lanes split from right to left, noticing the sirens coming down from the right lane, you don’t think twice as he practically pulls you in the opposite direction. Left lane it is.

This time traffic races towards you which makes maneuvering in this fucking tunnel even that much more difficult. Your boots clash against the hard ground as Bucky suddenly eyes up an approaching motorcycle, he is not.

As the motorbike comes into about five feet of him, Bucky grabs onto the handles, pushing the guy off while he does an impressive one-eighty before throwing a leg over to straddle the bike as he now points it in the direction of the traffic flow. Not wasting a precious second longer, do you swiftly jump on, throwing your arms around his strong waist for some bit of safety.

The bike instantly growls and groans in protest as Bucky focuses on getting the two of you the fuck out of there; cars fly by in a blur as the wind aggressively whips back your hair, only causing you to hold on tighter as Bucky races down the underpass’s road. Sirens and police speeding not far behind. The constant sound of their sirens just about driving you insane.

Without so much as a warning, your peaceful ride is rudely interrupted when the panther jumps off a car and makes a beeline for your body. Bucky’s flesh hand is around the panthers throat in a second as you lower yourself out of the way. In reply, the panther suddenly twists his body and runs a couple feet on the side of the tunnels wall and low cut ceiling before Bucky tries to throw him down by his throat.

Unfortunately this causes the motorcycle to shift left; dangerously close to the racing ground, he lets go of the panther and switches hands on the handles so he can avoid losing control completely. Metal fingers scrape across the cement creating glowing sparks of angry fiery flickers as the panther holds onto your jacket and the back of the motorcycle for dear life.

Not appreciating this in the slightest, you instinctively begin unsheathing your right claws that are positioned across your lap; you bend low, face pressed against Bucky before twisting the best you can and swiping the panther off of you and onto the harsh ground below. You don’t care to look back as Bucky pushes his metal hand off the ground, finally at last stabilizing the motorbike. Hitting the gas harder, it flies down the road as you swiftly retract your claws back into your knuckles.

“Y/N are you okay!” Shouts Bucky as you tighten your hold from behind, face pressed against his back as you listen to the sirens hastily approaching in the distance.

Gifting him a squeeze of reassurance, you give him a light kiss though he doesn’t feel it, “I could honestly be better!”

Bucky shows the ghost of a smile as he whirs the bike into submission, soon more wind swirls past your face as he pulls something out of his pocket and throw it against the roof of the tunnel where it sticks, blinking red.

Boom! Crash! Down goes a multitude of cement ceiling and destructively onto the freeway, effectively creating a blocker against the panther, Steve, and the Romanian police.

Smiling into his back, you mentally praise him for keeping some of the Hydra weaponry at hand. Until you’re roughly pulled from the bike by the fucking panther himself. Who even is this guy?

And how did he....

Yelping in surprise, you grasp onto Bucky’s backpack for all it’s worth, successfully managing to drag him down with you. The grey tiled street of the tunnel hits against your body harder then you’d like, but nonetheless you take the beating like a champ as you tumble harshly against the ground.

You and the ground are really getting to know each other today.

The panther doing the same from behind you while Bucky rolls awkwardly across the floor like an angry stiff log of dark flowing hair and concealed muscle. While trying to stop yourself from clashing around any further, you quickly regain your bearings in time to block Bucky from getting his throat cut out by the panther who’s on him in an instant.

With your claws bared and shimmering in the light of the protruding sun from the tunnels giant observatory opening, you’re quickly stopped by Steve as he races past you and tackles the panther to the ground by his waist.

Your little violet adventure coming to a messy end, when the panther stands defiantly a couple feet away from the three of you who by now have risen to your feet. Police lights flash from behind him as more surround the four of you instantaneously from on all sides, well shit, this doesn’t look good.

Your frantic eyes shift all around you as your world comes to a crashing halt, a helicopter flies over head, and in this moment you want nothing more then to slash your way out of this one. But you’re trapped.

You stand to Bucky’s immediate right as Steve stands to his left, hands out protectively as you glare at the officers in front of you, neither you nor Bucky speaking a word as you take in heavy breaths from your hefty sprinting session. Suddenly the notorious War Machine lands with a dramatically heavy thud onto the road in front of you, shoulder gun and hand blasters raised as he looks between the three of you.

Well at least it’s not actually Ironman. Right?

“Stand down, now.” Commands War Machine as you throw him a resistant look of pure daggers, hatred and fury flashing across your face as you clench your fists.

Obeying the authoritative command, Steve puts his shield away, latching it to his back as you begrudgingly retract your silver tinted claws back into your forearms with the usual shling sounding as you do so.

“Congratulations, Cap.” Verbally applauds War Machine, voice clearly sarcastic, “You’re a criminal.”

Moments later the Romanian police fully surround you all, guns at the ready; you’re harshly pushed to the ground by angry gloved hands that take captive of your arms and wrists as they pin your stomach to the earth.

“ot"yebis', tupyye pizdy!” You mumble angrily in Russian as the Romanian special task officers hold you like a wounded beast, your actual words translating to “fuck off, you stupid cunts” though they’re none the wiser to your heated threats.

Your chin scrapes against the cement tiles as your hands are pressed against your back, tied instantly as you strain your head to look up. The panther retracts his catlike claws before unclasping his helmet to reveal the troubled face of a dark skinned man; brows furrowing in confusion you suddenly realize who he is when War Machine says, “Your Highness.”

Grimacing in agitation, you can’t help but let out a string of curses aimed crudely at the Wakandian prince and many of the officers in question, half of your verbal abuse a mix of both English and your mother tongue. Soon an officer lightly kicks your side as you send him a deadly glare that causes him to take a cautious step back.

Though to relieve himself of his high authority once more, he gathers some of his men's attention by pointing down at you, “Muzzle this one.” He commands diligently as you squirm in protest, your face a mask of pure rage while Bucky keeps a steady frustrated gaze with the ground. His heart breaking for how they’re treating the two of you, but most importantly how they’re dealing with you.

If not for the current situation, you could have actually laughed; well now, aren’t you quite royally fucked.

-

Tagged: @minigranger​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​ @diegos-butt

[tarysande]

Ok but when Chloe in ep 8 was saying like “you did it without me” it really hit me how much Lucifer has changed because season 1 his answer would have been like been something vain and self-aggrandizing, but now “it’s because I channeled you” i love it so much

yes yes yes yes

One of the most interesting things this (1/2) season was seeing the ways Lucifer has actually incorporated the things he’s been learning all this time into who he is now (and who he wants to be moving forward).

I mean, look at earth time/hell time. To Lucifer, the years in LA were like the tiniest, tiniest blip on his radar even just compared to the thousands of years he spent in hell afterwards (i.e., after the S4 finale), let alone the entirety of his existence. 

Michael shows up and plays on Chloe’s fears (essentially, the ones she voices in the S4 finale: that Lucifer would forget her or get caught up in cosmic-scale stuff). Michael is the one who relies on ideas that Lucifer would backslide, would go dark, would forget.

But when Lucifer comes back thousands of years later, he doesn’t struggle to remember who he was or what was important to him. If anything, he seems to have abandoned the crutches he had before (drinking, partying, drugs, sex, etc.) and he focuses more on the people he cares about. 

In the beginning, this is mostly Chloe, sure, but actually accepting and wearing that bracelet from Dan? Not once implying he didn’t want Trixie hanging around if she didn’t come with her mom? Being genuinely concerned that Michael and his fear had got to Linda? Initiating touch and hugs??? Making a joke of his Devil face to make Charlie laugh? Comforting Ella???

He didn’t spend that time in Hell sitting around feeling sorry for himself (at least not all the time) and (most importantly) blaming everyone else for his being there. He spent that time remembering everything good that he’d lost; he spent that time missing them so much that he ditched a lot of his pride and superiority when he got back. 

Obviously, he’s not a different person entirely. He’s still got anger and resentment; he still lashes out when struck; he’s still really good at thinking up scary punishments. But that’s not his primary motivator anymore. 

Also the parallel between Lucifer trying to solve a crime in Hell in 5x01 and Lucifer trying to find Chloe in 5x08—both by trying to incorporate the things he’s learned from her—is really a thing of beauty. Another little thing: this time, he didn’t dress up like Chloe or try to get in her head by pretending to be her--no. All the lessons he’s learned from her are part of him now. 

He’s already learned Chloe doesn’t need his help—she wants it. I think maybe he also needed to learn that he can be successful without her—but that he vastly prefers her being there. And I think it was important for Chloe to see that despite his glibness and distractibility and impatience . . . he does pay attention, does learn, does change.

So ... I love it so much, too <3

[transsexualhamlet]

alright it’s time for as requested part two of rowan reads the original sherlock holmes and compares it to yuumori

i finished a study in scarlet and holy shit was yuumori accurate to it

obviously they changed the case so that... well, moriarty was involved, and they didn’t go into detail on why drebber was an a-grade piece of shit (lol i wasn’t expecting the mormons but it was a great perspective actually doyle went big brain time on that one lmao) 

Hmmm i mean the other main difference is that Watson Is Gayer In The Original but yeah obviously that’s for a reason and the reason is william james moriarty

I have some highlights of “oh my god I need to see yuumori sherlock do this right now because he Absolutely Would” and they’re WILD

So yuh here are your Sherlock Moments

-when watson asks stamford why he might not want to board with sherlock bestie went “he’s a little queer” and watson was basically like “i like that in a man :)” like i am Fully Aware that’s not what queer meant back then but it’s FUNNY alright

-stamford is also like “yeah i mean he’s the kind of guy who would probably perform human experiments on his friends without telling them”

-watson walks into sherlock’s lab like hello new roommate :) and the dude immediately starts SCREAMING

-he’s all I GOT IT I GOT IT I GOT IT LOOK and fucking stabs himself and drips the blood in a container, yeah yeah it makes a reaction and he’s like I AM GOING TO SOLVE ALL CRIMES EVER ACTUALLY wait who are you

-SHERLOCK THEN PROCEEDS TO SEAL UP THE CUT WITH P L A S T E R AND THEN HANDLE POISONOUS CHEMICALS WITH HIS BARE, INJURED HANDS

-watson moves in with this dude and is like “oh wow im really interested in this guy but im Polite so i cannot ask him anything” so he starts snooping around trying to figure out what sherlock does for a living?????? like he couldn’t just fucking ask???? and he’s like wow he has these clients and he kicks me out of the house every time they come over i Really Don’t Want To Think He’s Fucking Them

-obviously, and to watson’s embarassment, he wasn’t. sherlock is a virgin and it is very clear

-watson describes sherlock in the most homoerotic way possible i don’t even know how to describe it bestie goes on about his hands for a full paragraph it’s really gay man

-WATSON IS SO POLITE ABOUT IT ITS ACTUALLY HILARIOUS ISTG HES LIKE I AM KIND OF SERIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH THIS DUDE BUT I COULDN’T POSSIBLY JUST ASK HIM ANYTHING OR LIKE TRY TO GET CLOSER TO HIM I WILL SIMPLY WRITE LISTS ABOUT HIM AND DIAGNOSE HIM WITH AUTISM

-he’s also like “i don’t know i really think hes on drugs i would say he’s on drugs but also he’s like this all the time and he might just be mentally ill” lo and behold it was both

-SHERLOCK GOES TO BED AT TEN PM AND GETS UP AT 4 AM EVERY DAY WITHOUT FAIL

-m o t h e r f u c k e r  d o e s  n o t  k n o w  w h a t  t h e  s o l a r  s y s t e m  i s

-and when asked why he doesn’t know! he’s like my dear watson! i simply cannot be bothered! my brain is filled up with more important things! 

-watson compares him to some fictional detective that edgar allan poe made up and sherlock is like HIM OH MY GOD DO NOT COMPARE ME TO THAT MOTHERFUCKER I AM BETTER THAN THAT

-it’s honestly really cute watson apparently will sit and listen to him play the violin and like request pieces and stuff and yeah sherlock can play those fine

-but most of the time if he picks it up on his own sherlock will just start plucking it with his fucking hands while slouching in a chair and sitting like L Death Note and playing random notes that Vibe 

-watson HATES it

-watson once picks up this paper sherlock has lying around about yknow. deduction and all that and how you find things out and watson is like “this is Bullshit who wrote this what the fuck this is the most unrealistic thing i’ve ever read” and then sherlock is like I Wrote It Shawty and watson is like. um. oh haha i take back everything

-MAN I JUST GOTTA POINT OUT I AM A TEENAGE BOY AND I COULD NOT STAY SERIOUS WHEN DOYLE THOUGHT “EJACULATED” WAS A GOOD WORD TO PUT IN PLACE OF SAID

-lol he was like “ahahahhaa my deductions” and watson was like “but How Did You Do It” and he’s like “I WANT TO LOOK COOL WATSON DONT MAKE ME RUIN IT BY EXPLAINING”

-GHHHHHHHHHH BESTIES when sherlock was Infodumping to watson About Crimes watson was like “oh my god that’s so cool bestie!” like Once and watson described it like “i was complimenting him like he was a girl and i called him beautiful and he blushed” LIKE DUDE THATS GAY

-that one time sherlock yelled “THE PLOT THICKENS” and lestrade was like “i t  w a s  t h i c k  e n o u g h  a l r e a d y”

-dude thinks he’s wrong ONCE and has a mental breakdown in front of the entirety of scotland yard before like five seconds later realizing that he was not, in fact, wrong

I’d say that the main difference between him and yuumori sherlock is that og sherlock has a massive fucking ego and yuumori sherlock is very loud but has no ego at all. Og sherlock will brag about how smart he is to anyone who will fucking listen. Yuumori sherlock will only boast abt his intelligence around Moriarty because he knows they’re both mindfucking

Other than that... I honestly cannot come up with significant differences between them. You can really tell how similar they are especially with the sign of mary episode- dude was just like >:((((( the entire day because watson has a fiance and then he walks in on a dead body and goes now hERES SOME FUN

He’s very accurately and enthusiastically portrayed, as far as I can tell, and I think that’s really epic. I love him. I might kin og sherlock too guys ngl

[scripts4dreamers]

I literally JUST sat down, pt.3

Part One, Part Two, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: The case stalls, but no one’s willing to give up on you just yet. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

(Longer one this time! As always, let me know if you want to get tagged in the next part.)

—————————-

“I hate this,” you whined, as Garcia pulled you through the crowded streets, “why didn’t we drive straight to the office, again?”

“Because, my little Grumpy Gus, you look like you barely slept, and this place has the best coffee in the city.” She promised, giving your arm a squeeze.

You grumbled under your breath, but didn’t complain, letting Garcia ply you with endless cups of coffee.

“Are we getting for the whole team?” You asked, your mind drifting to your late night message to Spencer.

Garcia paused, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, “Yeeeeees, why?”

You shrugged, “I was just asking. No need to read into anything.”

“This is about Spencer, I can tell. Spill it.”

You groaned, letting your head thump down onto the table, “How do you do that?”

“I’m a veritable fountain of knowledge, Y/N, you know this,” she teased, “plus I speak fluent Y/N, especially the little known Spencer Reid dialect.”

“Witch!” You said accusingly, “You’re a witch!”

“You flatter me,” she winked, tapping your forearm, “now spill it.”

You sighed, taking another sip of your coffee, “It’s nothing, I just-I messaged him, alright?”

“You did what?”

“I messaged him! And it was stupid and he didn’t even respond, so it’s not important.” You explained, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Penelope gasped, “He didn’t respond?”

You shook your head, “Nope. Nothing, look-“

You took out your phone and glanced briefly at the screen, frowning when you spotted the notification from the night before. You swiped up, your eyes tracing his response. Something in your stomach pinched.

“Huh.”

“What?” Penelope asked, “What is it? You’re legally obligated to tell me, it’s in the rules.”

“He-uh-“ you stared at the screen, still frowning, “he responded. I must’ve fallen asleep…”

“Ooohhh my gosh, what does it say? What did you say? Is it romantic?”

You pressed your lips together, your mind whirling at a thousand miles an hour as you try to figure exactly what Spencer meant by “I did.”.

“It’s-“ you shook your head, “I don’t know really.”

Something in your tone must’ve let on how conflicted you were feeling because Penelope let the matter slide, just giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

“Let’s get to work, Sugar,” she said, standing and extending her hand for you to hold, “we’ve got crimes to solve.”

You gave her a weak smile but let her pull you to your feet, trying to force your mind away from Spencer and back onto your case.

“That we do, Garcia, that we do.”

——————————-

“We come bearing gifts,” Garcia announced as she pushed open the door to the BAU, “sustenance in the form of sweet, sweet caffeine.”

Your eyes instantly flew to Spencer, giving him a weak smile which, to your intense relief, he returned. You also noticed, with a rush of fondness, that he’d kept your side of the desk clear.

“Garcia you’re an angel,” Emily smiled, pushing away from her desk to accept a cup.

“Speaking of angels,” you sighed, carrying a cup of coffee flavored sugar over to Spencer and taking your seat next to him, “have we got an ID on our victim yet?”

“Marcus Wilcox,” Spencer said, flipping open the file closest to you, “25 year old drug addict and male prostitute. He went missing two weeks ago and was reported missing by his best friend.”

You glanced over at the picture of the man whose body had been left in your bookstore and felt the familiar pang of sorrow in your chest. There was always going to be another one, another life cut short, another dead son or daughter who’s family would grieve their loss for years. It was enough to put a damper on anyone’s morning.

You could feel eyes on you, heavy and questioning and you found you couldn’t look up to meet their gaze.

“Anything unusual in the M.E.’s report?” You asked, still avoiding the eyes.

“All the mutilation was done postmortem, so that rules out sadism as a motive,” JJ suggested, accepting a cup of coffee gratefully.

“High levels of caffeine in the blood too,” Emily pointed out, “and…” she pressed her lips together.

“What, Em?” You asked.

She looked up at you nervously, something like sympathy in her eyes as she said, “Biscuits, in his stomach. They found brown butter biscuits and coffee in his stomach.”

Your blood froze and you felt a rush of nausea. You put your cup down, suddenly not thirsty anymore.

“Is...that significant, somehow?” Hotch asked, his perpetual frown firmly in place.

“They’re the best sellers at Y/N’s coffee shop,” Spencer said, something off in his voice, “she sells them fresh every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.”

You looked over, shocked, and noticed that Spencer was working his jaw, like he was angry, his one hand curled into a fist under his chin. You itched to reach out and touch his forearm, like you once would have, but you restrained yourself.

“What the hell is this guy doing?” Emily asked, “Why go through all this trouble to personalize the crime? What’s driving him?”

“It’s gotta be erotomania, right?” Morgan asked, “Someone’s trying to get Y/N’s attention.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you insisted, frustrated with having the same conversation again and again, “stalkers don’t start off with an elaborate and expertly executed murder. If it was erotomania, why not call first, or email or leave notes at my apartment? There’s been no build up to this sort of violence.”

“Plus, the victim has no connection to Y/N,” Spencer pointed out, “erotomaniacs want to reinforce their supposed devotion to the object of their affection, if he wanted to do that he would’ve picked someone Y/N knew, like an ex-boyfriend or an enemy of some kind.”

“Some who he thinks Y/N would actually want dead,” Emily agreed.

“Reid and Y/L/N are right, there’s something more to this, something we’ve missed,” Hotch said, “Garcia, I want you to go through everything you can find about Marcus Wilcox and see if he came into Y/N’s store at all. Maybe he’s a customer who was rude and offended the UnSub. After that, comb through Y/L/N’s life again; old friends, high school classmates, college professors, agents she worked with on cases, anyone who could have formed an attachment and been stalking her without us knowing.”

Garcia paled under her Barbie pink lipstick, “Sir, I-“

“It’s fine, Garcia,” you assured, giving her a soft smile, “I’ve got nothing to hide. You’ll have to get permission from the CIA to access some of my case files though, there’s some sensitive data in those.”

“I’ll call the director myself,” Hotch said, “that’ll expedite the process.”

“But, sir, sorting through all that data could take weeks,” you pointed out, “what do we do in the meantime?”

Hotch pressed his lips together, and you sighed, sensing his next words before they even came out of his mouth.

“We work cases, as usual,” he said, “Y/N, yours will still be our priority but, until we get a new lead…”

“We’re stuck.” You finished. You breathed in, trying to calm your restless nerves, and pushed yourself up, ���Well, it was lovely seeing you guys again, but I guess that’s my cue.”

“What?” Spencer said, sitting up suddenly, “No, Y/N you can’t just leave, if there’s someone out there delusional enough to do this to get your attention then it’s not safe.”

“I’m with Boy Wonder,” Garcia agreed, shooting you an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Sugar Plum but this whole thing is just icky and gross and I’d feel much better knowing you were here.”

You looked around, but we’re met with a wall of concerned faces. You wanted to scream. Nothing about this situation was fair. You hated feeling helpless, it was why you’d joined the FBI in the first place and, ultimately, why you’d left.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do while we wait for a lead?” You asked, “I can’t go home, I can’t go back to work, I can’t just sit here all day until my assigned babysitter for the night is free.”

“You could join us on cases,” Hotch said simply, “if I’m not mistaken, you’re still officially an agent so you’re cleared to be in the field.”

Spencer and Emily sucked in a breath in unison, and you shut your eyes. Shit.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Emily asked, “You never actually resigned?”

You shot her a sheepish look, “I meant to! I did! It was just,” you shrugged, “at first I wanted the safety blanket in case normal life didn’t work out and, once it did, I just-“ you trailed off.

Truth be told, you didn’t know why you’d never left. It was really only one document that you needed to sign, it would take less than three minutes to complete, there was nothing stopping you. You’d even filled it out once or twice but, for some reason, you always stopped before actually submitting it.

You shot a nervous look at Spencer, who was determinedly avoiding looking at anything except a particular patch of empty air, and sighed.

“So...what does that mean?” Morgan asked, “You’re back on the team?”

“Agent Y/L/N has technically been on an extended sabbatical for the past year,” Hotch explained, “ideally we would be able to keep her on in an advisory capacity while we work her case but, with her safety being such an issue, for the time being, yes, she’s back on the team.”

——————————-

You collapsed into your old seat on the jet, exhaustion weighing you down like a ton of bricks. It had taken almost no time for Hotch and Garcia to brief you on the team’s newest case and, before you could even pack a proper Go-Bag, you were wheels up and on your way to Tampa Bay. It was a fairly standard case, or as standard as it got for the BAU at least, and it had only taken three days to catch the guy, but it had still taken the life right out of you. Hotch had noticed your distress and sent you ahead to the jet with Rossi while the rest of the team finished packing up. On the one hand you resented being treated like a child, on the other….well, you were exhausted.

Rossi sat down across the aisle from you, handing you a mug of warm hot chocolate, which you accepted gratefully. He raised his eyebrows in that grandfatherly way, like he was asking you a question, and you smiled.

“What?” You asked, “I can tell you’re thinking something.”

“You love this” he said simply.

“Love it?” You laughed incredulously, “Rossi I haven’t been this tired since I spent three full days setting up my shop. I’m exhausted.”

“And you love it,” he insisted, “I can see that Evil Genius sparkle in those pretty eyes of yours.” He gestured at your face and you smiled, “Not that I blame you. Catching killers tends to be more exciting than baking cookies.”

“Hey, I thought you loved it when I made cookies!” You complained, whacking his hand away in mock outrage, “You said they were your favorite!”

“They are, I’m just making a simple observation, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” you said suspiciously.

“Here’s another one; there’s tension between you and the Good Doctor,” he continued.

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t disagree, letting your mind wander back to the last three days. After Hotch’s little announcement to the team, things had been...odd with Spencer. Actually, you couldn’t be sure that was the catalyst, for all you knew things could’ve been weird before that but, now it was just impossible to miss. He would bounce between avoiding you like the plague and actively seeking out your company; sitting next to you at dinner one minute and then purposely standing as far away as possible the next minute. It sucked. It sucked and it hurt your feelings and it was confusing, so there was no point in denying it to Rossi.

“I just wish he’d talk to me, you know?” You said, “Or yell, or shout or something. Like, if you’re angry then be angry. At least then we could talk it out, but this-“ you shook your head, “I hate it.”

“Ah, kid,” Rossi commiserated, patting your knee comfortingly, “I don’t think he’s angry, and that’s probably part of the problem.” You looked up, confused, and Rossi continued, “If he was angry, things would be a lot simpler. Like you said, you could just yell for a bit, and then it’d be over. No, I think Spencer’s just hurt and confused. He blames himself for you leaving and, now that you’re back, he’s happy, but he feels guilty about being happy because you’re in danger.” He explained, “It’s a confusing time for him, for you both.”

You sat up, “Wait why would he blame himself for me leaving?”

Rossi looked down, like he was thinking hard but, before he could say anything, you heard footsteps and the rest of your team boarded the jet. You shot Rossi a look that said “we’ll finish this later”, and then turned away, smiling at your friends.

“Hey,” you greeted, letting Morgan ruffle your hair.

JJ gave you a small smile, but your eyes went straight to Spencer, Rossi’s words bouncing around inside your head. To your surprise, he collapsed into the seat beside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I-uh-I was hoping we could talk.”

Your heart leapt, but you tried to keep your face neutral as you answered, “Sure thing, Reid. What about? The case?”

“Actually,” he said, his voice still low, “I wanted to talk about you.”

You pressed your lips together, but nodded, following Spencer’s lead and leaning in to avoid being overheard as your team settled in for the flight home.

Spencer was silent for a moment, like he was thinking, and then, “Why didn’t you resign? I thought you wanted out.”

“I did, or I thought I did. Reid, when I first left I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I guess I wanted to be able to come back if things went wrong.” You explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You paused for a moment, “Spence-“

His breath hitched in his throat, “The first time, when you were thinking about leaving. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-“ you sighed, the exhaustion rolling over you like a river, “I didn’t want to worry you until I was sure and then, after that….” you shrugged, “it all happened so fast. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, like he understood, and you watched some of the tension leech out of his body. For the first time he met your eye, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“I’m sorry too.” He said.

“Spence you’ve got nothing to-“

“I do,” he interrupted, “I promised you that we’d always be best friends and then, after you left, I just stopped trying.”

You were conflicted. Some part of you had been longing to hear this for months, ever since the texts, visits and calls had stopped out of the blue but, now that you were actually hearing it, it just made you sad.

“You did try,” you reminded him, “you came to the store a few times, helped me organize my books.”

He shook his head, “Not often enough. It just-it just got so hard, you know? Seeing you every weekend and knowing you weren’t going to be there when I got to work the next day,” he explained, his voice cracking, “watching you have this whole life outside of us, it just started to feel like maybe I didn’t fit-maybe we didn’t fit.” He gestured to the team, “And I thought maybe you were better off-“ he trailed off.

“Hey,” you cut in, reaching out and covering his hand with yours, “hey, listen to me. You guys are my family. You’ll always be my family, no matter what happens. I’m sorry you ever felt like anything else was even possible. I could never be better off without you guys.”

The hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth, and he squeezed your hand gently.

“If it’s okay,” he said, still smiling hopefully, “I’d really like for us to be friends again. I know I broke a solemn oath but, if you’ll trust me, I’ll never let it happen again, I promise.”

Your smile felt so wide that it hurt your cheeks as you pulled him into a hug, savoring the way he chuckled as he hugged you back.

“Of course, Spence,” you smiled, still holding him close, “of course.”

“God, I missed you,” he admitted into your neck, “no one else pretends to care about Star Trek as well as you do.”

You laughed and let him go, feeling the distance that had formed over the last year vanishing bit by bit.

“I’ve missed you too, Doctor Reid.” You said, “But, I’ll admit, I haven’t missed the Star Trek talk as much.”

“None of us miss the Star Trek talk,” Derek said, making you both jump, “honestly, I miss not knowing about Star Trek.”

“Preach,” JJ agreed, “Y/N/N, I know you’re in charge of what we watch tonight but I’m begging you, please pick something made for adults? I’ve been watching nothing but Marvel and Disney for months.”

“But I love Disney,” Emily complained.

“Rest assured,” Rossi interrupted, “it’s my entertainment system and I don’t even have any Disney.”

“You have Lord of The Rings though, right?” Spencer asked.

You watched your team bicker amongst themselves, laughing like you hadn’t laughed in months. Being together like this was like a healing balm for your frayed nerves, bringing you back to a place of calm, like you’d just come home from a long trip. In the back of your mind, you knew there was still work to be done, old wounds you needed to address and mysteries you needed to solve but, for now, you were just happy to be with your family. For now, this was enough.

—————————

Spencer felt like he was living in some sort of strange fever dream, like all his months of sulking had finally driven him mad and now he was physically imagining things as he helped you out of his car. Touching you always made him a little dizzy but, over the years that you’d worked together every day, he’d managed to build up a tolerance, a tolerance that was now almost completely gone. It had been months since everyone had agreed to have family dinner at Rossi’s, but now that you were back, he’d insisted. Spencer was on cloud nine. He had his best friend back and, for the first time since you’d left, things felt good again, like he was exactly where he should be.

As you sat around Rossi’s table, swapping stories and reminiscing over the past, Spencer had to fight to stop from staring at you. You were really there. He could reach out and touch you. If he called your name you would respond and your eyes would light up the way they always had, like he was the only person in the world you wanted to see. It was surreal. In the back of his mind, Spencer knew he was being selfish, that he shouldn’t want you to stay this time and he should be itching to find out who was stalking you so that you could go back to the life you’d built. But he wasn’t.

When JJ had gotten the call that you needed them, Spencer had thought his heart was going to implode from all the pent up longing he’d kept stored away. Seeing you hadn’t exactly improved things. He’d spent the entire day trying to hold himself together, unsure of how to act around you, playing through every single memory he’d been keeping repressed for all this time like it would somehow give him the answer. God, half the time he’d wanted to scream, the other half he’d wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go ever again. As his eyes traced the plains of your face, plains he’d memorized a million different times, he felt a flicker of that old flame burn in his chest, like the embers of a fire that had never really been put out, and he sighed.

“Hey, kid, where’s your head?” Morgan asked, his voice soft enough to avoid being overheard.

“Hmm? What?” Spencer replied, tearing his eyes away from you as you laughed at something Garcia said.

“Your head,” he repeated, where’s it at?”

Spencer thought for a minute, and then smiled, “I’m good. Really good, actually.”

Morgan nodded, a little too knowingly for Spencer’s liking, but let the matter drop. Just then, the unmistakable ping of Hotch’s cell cut through the late night air and, as if on cue, every eye in the house turned to face the sound. Hotch examined his phone, his frown deepening and sending shivers of worry up Spencer’s neck. He wanted to say something, to stop Hotch from giving them whatever horrible piece of news was on that phone, but he couldn’t. He just sat and waited, like everybody else.

“Hotch?” JJ eventually asked, her hand gripping yours, hard.

“They-uh-” Hotch started, showing a rare moment of nerves, “they found another note at Y/N’s apartment.”

Several people swore, Garcia whimpered, Derek slammed his fist against the table, but you just stared straight ahead, your face stony and unmoving. Spencer wanted to reach out, but he was frozen in place.

“What did it say?” You asked, “Is it another love poem?”

“No,” Hotch answered, “it’s a string of numbers; 29.07.15/18.01.14/38.8765.77.0006.”

“Reid, you got that?” Morgan asked, shooting him a look.

Spencer felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but he nodded, “I’ve got it.”

“But, that’s not all, is it?” Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head, “They found another body. This time in an empty storefront a few blocks away from Y/N’s apartment.”

“Probably the site I’d picked out for the second branch,” you supplied, “I just signed the deal three weeks ago.”

You buried your face in your hands, sighing as the atmosphere around the dinner table took a turn for the worst.

“Well,” Emily said, “Looks like we’ve got our lead.”

Hotch nodded, “Let’s get to work.”

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

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​, @confused-and-really-hungry, @word-scribbless​, @reidloversisforever​, @ashookykooky​, @l0ve-0f-my-life​, @shilohpug​, @tangerinenotions95​, @petitchatonbleu, @pirateismywayofspeaking​, @must-be-a-weasley-92​, @whovianayesha, @holding-on-to-my-youth​

[slowly-writing]

Hometown

Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Word count: 2.1K

Requested by anon: hey! Can you do a JJ x reader where the BAU works a case where the reader has to go to her hometown and it brings up some difficult things for her but JJ helps her through it?

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence and a crappy family

“Three women have been found dead in their homes in the last week. Each time the unsub has left an elaborate harddrive at the scene. The locals have been unable to get into them and have requested our help,” Hotch starts the briefing. Everyone looks down at the case files in front of them. You’re all saddened at the brutality of the crimes, but your sharp intake of breath draws all eyes to you.

“You good, y/l/n? It’s bad, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before,” Morgan says and you shake your head.

“I’m fine,” you snap, and that only confuses them further.

“Obviously you’re not. What’s going on?” Penelope asks and you grit your teeth.

“I said I’m fine Garcia. Just drop it!” There’s a moment of tense silence as everyone tries to process the situation before Hotch continues the briefing. As everyone looks back to the screen JJ grabs your hand under the table. She knows what’s going on, she saw it in the file too. You’re going back to your hometown, and it’s not going to be a nice reunion.

Hotch dismisses the briefing not long after and you dash from the room. Everyone looks to JJ, waiting for her to explain your behavior.

“Spill,” Morgan says and her jaw drops.

“Spill what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tries to blow it off and is met with several simultaneous eye rolls.

“Spill what’s got your girl all riled up. She’s never snapped like that before. Especially not at me,” Garcia states, crossing her arms and pouting slightly and JJ sighs.

“I know, and I know she’s gonna be beating herself up for it. Just, please be gentle,” she knows how upset you’re gonna be with yourself for taking your frustrations out on your team, and she hopes they won’t hold it against you.

“We’re gonna forgive her. We just wanna know what’s going on,” Rossi tells her.

“The case is in her hometown. She’s got some…not so great memories there. I don’t think she’s quite ready to relive them just yet,” the team all nods in understanding. “But it’s coming one way or the other. Come on, I’m sure she’s halfway to the tarmac by now.”

xxxxx

You had your hands shoved in your pockets as you walked into the precinct. You didn’t want anyone to see how tightly your fists were clenched. You shuffled in behind the rest of the BAU. You hadn’t talked to them yet, but they seemed to have an unspoken agreement to form a barrier between you and the locals, but there was only so much they could do.

“Well if it isn’t little Y/n Gardner, what brings you back to our humble town?” You flinch as the cop throws an arm around your shoulder and ruffles your hair. The rest of the team sends you confused looks for the second, and probably not the last, time of the day.

“I’m here for work, Charlie,” you shrug the man off and straighten your hair.

“Always working, aren’t you? Curious, wanting to solve all the mysteries. That curiosity of yours has caused you some problems in the past. Don’t you think it’s time you let up?” The rest of the team senses the anger in his voice and Hotch steps in.

“Regardless of the past, we have a job to do. Could you lead us to where we can set up?” He asks firmly and Charlie smirks.

“Chief Gardener is probably around here somewhere. He could show you,” he’s looking around and you cut him off.

“I know where the conference room is. We’ll get there on our own,” you say, walking toward the room on the other side of the precinct. You open the door, ushering the team inside with a grimace, “we can set up in here.”

The team is full of questions, but they’re also profilers. They know you’re in no mood to open up to them right now, so they shove the curiosity to the back of their minds and focus on the case.

xxxxx

“Alright, let’s deliver the profile,” Hotch announced to the team. It took everything in you to hold back your groan. Over the last few days you’ve been able to avoid direct contact with local law enforcement. They all had their eyes on you constantly, either sending looks of pity or hate to the girl who divided the town. Mainly you stayed in the conference room. Reid taught you how to build a geographical profile, and you helped Penelope with the computer where you could. You even managed to not be seen by the chief yet, but this briefing would put you right in his line of sight.

You stood up silently and went into the bullpen as Hotch asked the nearest officer to gather everyone. Your plan was to stand in the back and be quiet, but as you saw the man across the room look at you, you realized that wouldn’t be happening.

“The man we’re looking for is-“ Hotch is cut off.

“I wanna hear it from y/n,” the chief says and you clench your jaw.

“Now isn’t the time Jacob. Just shut up and let Agent Hotchner tell you who we’re looking for. The sooner we catch him the sooner I’ll be out of here and you won’t have to worry about me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“And let you ruin another innocent man’s life? I’m not gonna sit by and watch you do to somebody else what you did to dad,” he says, pushing himself off the wall he’s been leaning on and taking a few steps towards you and you snap.

“Dad was a lot of things, but innocent wasn’t one of them,” you can feel yourself losing your cool as you close the gap between the two of you. “He hurt a lot of people, Jake.”

“Oh and you’re quite the reliable source. His bastard daughter. What was it? Daddy didn’t give you enough attention? You had to find another way to get all eyes on you, huh?” he spits out. You’re about to throw a punch, but luckily you’re surrounded by a group of profilers who know you better than anyone. As you go to pull your arm back Derek wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up and quite literally removing you from the situation. When he sets you down a few feet away JJ’s face is in front of yours, her hands on your shoulders.

“Calm down, everything’s alright,” she whispers as you avoid eye contact, brushing her arms off of you.

“I’m fine,” you say for the hundredth time this week and take off, going outside to get some air. You make your way to the back alley, furiously rubbing at your face and trying to stop the tears you can feel building up. JJ is the first one outside and you don’t fight her this time as she pulls you into her arms. You bury your face in her shoulder as the tears start to fall. You’re exhausted from trying to keep it all in, both physically and emotionally, and soon you’re sobbing so hard you’re starting to hyperventilate.

“Hey, look at me, right at me. Just focus on my voice,” JJ says as she pulls away and takes your hand, placing it on her chest. “Just follow my breathing love, you’re okay.”

After a few minutes you’re able to get breathing back in check, and you latch onto JJ again. You hear the door open and your whole body goes rigid, not ready to face Jacob yet.

“Hey, it’s just us. We wanted to check on you,” Spencer’s voice is barely above a whisper, as if talking to a spooked animal.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, pulling away from JJ and wiping the tears away in embarrassment. You still keep a tight grip on her hand, but your gaze is on the floor.

“You don’t have to hide from us. We all get it,” Penelope says and you smile a bit.

“I guess you want an explanation,” you say with a self deprecating laugh, hating that you’ve ended up in this situation.

“Only if you’re ready,” Hotch gives you an out, but you don’t take it.

“No, I want you all to know. It’s just kind of a long story.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world, babygirl.” You roll your eyes at Derek’s nickname before speaking again.

“That was my brother in there. He’s a few years older than me. Our dad cheated on his mom with mine when he was six and they had me. My mom died when I was four and I went to go live with my dad. None of them particularly liked me. Ever since I moved in there had been problems between my dad and Jacob’s mom. She pretended I didn’t exist and my dad…well I wished he did. He beat up on me pretty bad, but he was the chief of police, so everyone turned a blind eye. When I was nine I found out my dad was involved in some pretty shady stuff. Drug dealing, embezzlement, you name it he was probably doing it,” you explain and Penelope speaks up.

“How does a nine year old figure that out?” She asks and you look away again. JJ squeezes your hand drawing your eyes to her as she puts the pieces together. You can see the question in her eyes and you just nod, you can do this.

“I uh…I found his stash. I saw some powder in this little bag in his room and I thought it was candy, like a pixie stick or something. So I hid it in my pocket when he wasn’t looking. I was at the station after school, sitting in the conference room actually, when I went to eat it. I poured some on my tongue, the second I tasted it I spit it out. I came running into the bullpen yelling ‘Dad why does your candy taste funny?’ and waving the bag around. He panicked, started screaming at me, calling me every name in the book right there in front of the whole precinct. Half the guys still work here…I still don’t know if it’s the cocaine that I ingested or the fear of having him lose it, probably a bit of both, but I passed out. They had to rush me to the hospital. The one here doesn’t have a pediatric unit so they had to take me to the county one. When an ambulance came in with a little kid and half a dozen cop cars following it, the doctors had some questions. It launched a whole investigation. There was a whole ring here in town and a lot of people went down. It’s not like I was trying to break it apart, I was nine. I wasn’t investigating it. It was an accident but I sure got blamed. I had to testify at his trial. I knew the way he treated me was’t right, but I didn’t realize I was digging his grave a bit deeper with every word I said until a few years ago. Last I heard he was doing fifteen to twenty years. He should be up for parole soon,” you realize, and you start to spiral, staring off into space and wondering what will happen when he gets out. JJ calling your name pulls you back into reality.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I ended up living with an aunt after all that. I went by my mom’s last name, legally changed it when I turned eighteen. I kept my head down and worked my ass off. I graduated high school at 16 and never looked back. If I had I might know how the hell Jacob was able to get a job in this precinct, let alone run it,” you finish and before anyone can speak Penelope has practically tackled you into a hug.

“Did you know any of this?” Rossi’s question is directed at JJ and she lets out a sigh.

“I knew she had a bad experience with drugs as a kid. She freaks out whenever I leave a bottle of tylenol where Henry can see it, that makes sense now. I knew it was because of her father. And I knew she wasn’t on speaking terms with any of her family,” JJ lists off and you feel your eyes starting to water once again.

“It’s not something I talk about. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.” JJ shakes her head, cupping your cheek in her hand.

“I’m not mad. It was your story to tell me when you were ready,” she places a kiss on your forehead  and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Alright, let’s go catch this son of a bitch so we can get the hell out of here,” you say and the team agrees, heading back into the building with a renewed desire to close this case. 

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @5aftermidnight @im-salt-but-not-salty @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

Criminal minds tag list: @reidingandwriting

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 2a)

Last Time: A day of terrific highs and crushing lows, as I (Ryunosuke) met Herlock Sholmes The Great Himbo Detective, danced around with him solving crimes, and discussed the secret pet of the Russian teenager next door. Unfortunately this all happened because I (Ryunosuke) have been accused of murdering Kazuma, the best character in the game, whom I doomed by finding hot. Also we didn’t even get to see the Russian teenagers secret pet, so what, I ask you, is the point?

(Quick note before we start, because the investigation parts take me a lot longer, I’m going to break them down into chunks of daily progress. If anyone would like, when I’m finished I’ll link them all together in a masterpost, but this way we should get somewhere (and I won’t spend three hours emailing myself screenshots))

As Biff Strogenov the 1 ton sailor is still guarding the door to cabin number 2, we can’t sneak back inside to look at cute animals investigate Kazuma’s death.

Also Herlock Sholmes has left us so we don’t even have him around to lighten the mood and take our minds off of the fact this games greatest character lies dead on the ground (or wherever they’ve taken the body).

However we do get to go and see my man Hosonaga, who has been investigating this whole time and probably has more information to give us!

(And speaking of Hosonaga, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’m no longer sold on the TB theory. I think if Hosonaga did have TB he would effectively be a one man bio weapon, and given the amount he interacts with everyone I’m not sure that’s a direction Ace Attorney would want to go in (at least I hope not). However if it’s not TB that, very excitingly for me, leaves something like Cystic Fibrosis as a good option. While Cystic Fibrosis (what I have) itself has only recently started to affect non white people, I believe there is a sister condition with similar symptoms that mainly affects asian people. I’ll look into it further when I next have a checkup.)

(Also just to be clear, I do know that Hosonaga probably has tragic backstory poison cough, but I’ve decided I’m going to just run with this until I’m told otherwise. Get your representation where you can!)

THE FUCK!?!

HOSONAGA WHAT HAPPENED???

Is this like the blood and something that just happens sometimes, or did someone do this to you?

Oh wait one of his little lenses is gone, this was clearly man made!

HE SAID WHAT!!??!!

LOOKS LIKE WE’VE FOUND THE FUCKING KILLER LADS!

Kazuma I’ve already let you die on my watch, please lend me your sword so I don’t make the same mistake twice!

So this is how they outdo Miss Brett huh?

I haven’t even met this man and I’m already setting my phaser to kill.

WHAT ARE YOU, THE NIGHTS OF NI?!!

‘’tis but a scratch’ he says as he looks at me through one and a half eyes as the bruises blossom!

I don’t know if I should consider this man a badass or an idiot!

Also, on a lighter note, he did meet Herlock Sholmes the Himbo Detective, so I can rest easy knowing they’ve canonically interacted

But still, I’m not sure how I’m going to get past this.

This bastard almost certainly killed Kazuma (who we’ve already established is the best) and now he’s started on Hosonaga (who becomes a closer second every time I talk to him).

I am going to rip this man to pieces with my teeth and laugh as I do it

(Editors note: Here I made my tumblr post calling for the captain to catch these hands)

In these trying times let’s just sit for a while and reflect on the new, very important, information we have received. Hosonaga likes ballet.

Thank you Hosonaga, I feel calmed now.

And also, thank you for this autopsy report. You know I always feel slightly weary about trusting these, but since it’s from you...

Dammit now I’m sad again!

So, it looks like someone broke Kazuma’s neck. I’m sort of glad it was something quick, but given Kazuma’s big ol’ sword, I’m confused about how it was done. Though I guess we can eliminate the tiny 15 year old next door from our list of suspects, since I don’t think she’s got the necessary strength.

(Also it’s definitely the captain.)

Well I’m glad of that, but it does mean that whoever killed Kazuma must have crept up behind him and taken him by surprise, otherwise they’d have been struck down by KBS (Kazuma’s Big Sword).

What I don’t understand is how the killer got into our cabin. I’m wondering if it’s one of those things where they were already in the room, but I can’t see anywhere anyone could hide.

So Kazuma was hit on the neck then? I must admit I thought someone had gone at him with their bare hands!

I trust you too Hosonaga!

(You remember that dial that was hovering between Idiot and badass, well guess which way it’s flipped!)

Come on Susato! Trust us too! Believe in me (Ryunosuke)!

... not yet... ok... :(

(Understandable though)

God I wish I could have seen it!

(It’s at times like this I wish I was better at drawing)

Hosonaga: The Susato to Herlock’s Ryunosuke!

Huh?

What’s shoe polish?

The writing on the floor? That’s all I could think it could be?

Ah, the mysterious smudge!

A taste test?

Ok, seriously though, it seems like the mark might have been left by Kazuma’s shoes as they scuffed along the floor. I’m not sure what this tells us, other than that the body was moved, but I think we’d already worked that one out by the fact Kazuma apparently chose to write his final words in Russian!

Farewell Hosonaga...

:(

DON’T TIS BUT A SCRATCH YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS HOSONAGA!

(The dial has spun back to idiot!)

Oh shit...

I’m not even sure what to say or do about this other than feel bad and sad.

Like would it help if I told him I was pretty sure he’d been set up to fail, or would that make him feel worse?

:(

You’ve got a self abusive streak to you, don’t you Hosonaga.

Oh SHIT! HE WAS DRUGGED TOO!!!

Wait a second, I BET EVERYONE ON THE SHIP WAS DRUGGED SO THEY COULD SMUGGLE NIKOLINA ONBOARD!

Except Kazuma because he didn’t like chicken!

I wonder if these two facts are connected, or if whoever killed Kazuma knew what was going on and took advantage of everyone being drugged to commit their murder.

Someone like the captain perhaps?

(And on that note, I’m going to turn in for the night and upload this in the morning)

[birdy-bat-writes]

Damian Wayne - Civilian crime solver

Request: Could you do headcanons or a scenario about Damian with a friend or s/o that is really into mysteries and goes around investigating cases even though they're really in over their head? Bonus points for shenanigans. Thank you!

Of course, amazing Anon! Great suggestion! And hey, why do friends or lovers when we can do both?? ;) I hope you enjoy this!

A/N: Um… My Headcanons are basically just fanfictions with sentences that don’t flow into paragraphs. I split it into 2 parts. I Really liked writing this one though. I love Damian. This one came out kinda angsty though, sorry about that. But it has a sweet ending.

Part 2 here

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

-       You met Damian when you both were in the sixth grade. He was quite the indignant 11-year-old. Unfortunately for you, this fellow was your lab partner for the year.

-       You noticed his distaste for most people, but he didn’t have it with you. You couldn’t have known at the time, but the reason for that was that you were the only person in the room Damian saw as someone of equal intellect. It was the way you were organized and level-headed. You were independent and self-sufficient.

-       Truth be told, the only major difference between your mindsets was that you weren’t as cocky.

-       Made sense though, since your mother was an environmental toxicologist. Your home was pretty full of science equipment since you could remember. You were always curious as a child, and of course your proud mother encouraged it and taught you bit-by-bit how to use the tools. You idolized her and your father, who passed away when you were younger.

-       Over the course of your partnership with Damian, you grew to tolerate each other, and then even enjoy each other’s company. By the time You were both 12, you had a pretty solid friendship.

-       You discovered this when he invited you over to his house for his birthday and his family nearly choked, had a stroke, or checked if you were a robot. He had to explain to you that he didn’t bring friends over very often.

-       “I made an exception for you because you are far closer to me than anyone else and I enjoy your company.”

-       You guys hang out all the time now and talk about personal stuff and just joke about things. It makes you really happy when Damian laughs. He often found himself thinking about how much more often he’s been doing it since he met you.

-       “Hey, what do you want to be when you grow up, Dames?”

-       “Well, I’d like to follow in my father’s footsteps.” You assumed that meant running Wayne Enterprises. You were half right.

-       “I want to be a detective.”

-       “Really?”

-       “Yeah, like my dad was.”

-       “He’d be proud of you.”

-       You had a love for forensics and special permission from your chemistry teacher to use the advanced chem lab after school. You were her TA after all, and Damian used that time to sit with you and chat while you worked.

-       “Y/N, what are you analyzing?”

-       “Um… It’s a mud sample.”

-       “From?

-       “The Gotham botanical gardens.”

-       “Why?” Why are you analyzing dirt from Poison Ivy’s crime scene from last night?

-       “Promise you won’t freak out?” He nodded. “I heard on the news that Poison Ivy was using monster plants to terrorize people. And they looked kind of like yellow trumpet vines you find a in the Gotham gardens. I was just checking the dirt for any chemicals that could have altered the plant growth.”

-       Damian was stunned and speechless. Something he experienced rarely, if ever. “Y/N, messing with this stuff is dangerous. maybe you should let Batman and the GCPD handle this.”

-       “Come on, Dami. Please don’t say that. I want to do this; I want to help people. If I figure this out first, I can tell the GCPD.”

-       “I’m just worried for your safety.” He couldn’t deny that your work was brilliant, but he couldn’t let you put yourself in harm’s way either.

-       “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

-       He ultimately told you it was alright with him if you were careful. What he meant by that was that he was going to spy on you and keep you away from any and everything that was dangerous.

-       Robin would follow you to your house from the shadows to make sure you got home safe and Damian would check in with you on your files. As your determination to solve cases increased, his desire to ask you why increased as well.

-       “I just think it’s fun, Damian.” Wow you were a bad liar.

-       “There’s more to it.”

-       “What?”

-       “Why are you actually doing this?”

-       “Because I want to.” You were sterner this time. Damian noticed and decided to drop it for now. He offered to walk you home like he usually did but you declined.

-       That night, you decided to investigate a lead you didn’t tell Damian about. It led you an abandoned building in old Gotham. You were scanning the second floor for anything out of the ordinary until you heard a voice approaching from the corner.

-       You ran into the nearest room and hid. The voices were getting closer. “Falcone wants this job done tonight. Don’t f*** up.” You were terrified.

-       Suddenly, your mouth was covered by a green gloved hand. You wanted to yell but you heard him shush you. You turned quietly to meet eyes with a domino mask. It was Robin. You didn’t have enough time to process everything that happened but at the end of it all you ended up on the sidewalk next to an ambulance and police cars.

-       Deciding you had enough for one day, you headed home.

-       The next day at school you seemed quiet and so did Damian. At the end, you walked over to Damian to ask if he wanted to hang out.

-       “Not at the lab.”

-       “Okay… we can watch a movie if you want.”

-       “Alright.”

-       “Cool. I’ll just go get my stuff.” He saw you walking in the direction of the lab and something sparked in him. He stopped you.

-       “I’ll get it.”

-       “What? I can get it. It’s fine.”

-       “Just stay here, Y/N.” He was a bit too curt for your liking.

-       “Don’t tell me what to do.”

-       “Just listen to me for once.”

-       “Why are you being like this?!”

-       It turned into a yelling match. Damian’s emotions got the better of him and it ended with a “You could have died last night!”

-       Tip of the hat to him *clap* *clap*. That’s how you found out he was Robin.

-       It made sense really. You shared a heartfelt conversation about how he trusted you but he didn’t want you getting hurt. He knew what it was like out there and he couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.

-       You promised to keep his secret and he made a compromise with you; you could help him with forensics for his cases with Batman as long as you never went out into the field.

-       Then you went an watched the movie you wanted to.

-       “Hey Dames, I need to tell you something.” He turned his head to you. “You had asked earlier why I was so obsessed with the cases… my dad died investigating Falcone’s drug cartel. I guess got a bit too into it… I just thought you deserved to know.” You shared a look of sympathy and for the first time in your friendship, he hugged you. It held for a while, but it wasn’t awkward, just comforting, as if you both said that you were there for each other.

-       Skip to the point where your working with him and Batman was normal. Well… as normal as it could get. You and Damian blew the Batcave circuit breaker. Twice.

-       You would always get results before Bruce managed to figure out how. Tim liked you specifically because you could make Bruce look very confused.

-       You and Damian would pass notes in class in code about new information from cases. It started to make people gossip about you two. It didn’t help that you both always stayed back late together and showed up to class alone, before anyone else.

-       It began to scare people because Damian doesn’t bother to spend time with other humans but with you, he like?? Willingly?? Does it??

-       You would work late nights with the boys and keep track of how much sleep they each were getting. If anyone fell too short, you sent them up to bed. It actually backfired on you once because you were very sleep-deprived and didn’t want to admit it, so Jason picked you up and dragged you to your room in the manor while Tim and Dick smiled cheekily. “Oh, how the turntables.” ;D

-       Damian would sleep when you forced him, but he would still have his days. He believed he was above sleeping???

-       This boy refuses to admit he’s tired. Even when he looks like a jittery racoon. So, you bring him hot chocolate in the mornings, (courtesy of Alfred) with a hint of a lot of caffeine (courtesy of Tim).

-       Ever since you started spending so much time at the manor, you got much closer with Damian and his brothers. You felt a sense of family and care there.

-       Your favorite nights were the ones where your mom would let you sleep over and you would stay late in the cave working with Damian. The serenity of the cave and the faint glow of the computers always made it feel like some alternate plane of existence.

-       “Alright, Sherlock, you’ve been obsessed with this case for three days now. Let the computers do their work and take a nap.”

-       “Dami, I’m too ‘thinky’ to sleep.”

-       “’Thinky’?” you nodded and giggled at your superior use of vocabulary. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

-       You detected a hint of mischief in his voice and followed him up the cave staircase to the top of a ledge. He pulled a rope ladder out from behind the ledge and gestured for you to climb it.

-       You glanced at him once before hoisting yourself up and climbing onto the rocky surface. You looked up and the sight took your breath away. The ledge was a flat floor of the cave that overlooked the waterfall from the inside. If you looked down, you could see the dancing currents on the lower levels of the cave. The air was misty and cool, and you honestly had no idea that there was a view like this anywhere in the manor.

-       “You like it?”

-       “Its so beautiful.” You said, your voice full of awe. Damian sat down on the floor, against the cave wall and patted the ground next to him. He wanted to say something. Just regular makings of conversation, like the ones you always had. This time, for the first time, he felt like he didn’t know what to say to you, so opted to look at you.

-       The way the water reflected light on the cave walls made patterns of hazy light. The glow hit your skin and made your eyes sparkle. For the first time since he had met you, Damian saw you in a completely new way. He didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t opposed to it either.

-       You broke the silence with, “You know, ever since I met you, and your family, I’ve never been happier.”

-       You looked back at him. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel butterflies and fireworks all at once.

[starlost-andfound]

king of hearts // christian seavey

Summary: Y/n, a police officer is assigned to question the notorious criminal, Christian Seavey. Little does she know, she’s in for more than an interrogation.

Warning: fake blood - (just in the image), mentions of crime, violence and murder; use of a gun (as a threat).

W/C: Approximately 1.21 K

“He refused to speak to anyone, but you, Sergeant,” y/n’s co-worker, Amy, explained.

Y/n and Amy stood in a closed room, holding a one-way mirror which revealed the criminal behind their case. Y/n turned from Amy to look through the glass, observing the criminal’s movements. He sat still, staring at his handcuffed wrists. Occasionally, he lifted his head to look at the mirror.

On his end, he could only see a reflection of himself.

“Keep both eyes open, he’s dangerous,” Amy warned.

Y/n nodded with a sigh and picked up the file on the table. She shuffled out of the room, shouting out a “Wish me luck!” before the door shut behind her.

Y/n pulled out her ID card, unlocking the door to the interrogation room as she stepped in. As the door opened, the man immediately looked up, his interest sparked.

“Sergeant y/n,” he grinned, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and pulled out the chair in front of him sitting down. She opened the file, skimming through the contents.

“Christian Seavey, age 23. Two murders, one bank robbery and three cases of car theft and trespassing, each.” she looked up at the man across her who comfortably sat in his chair.

The tips of his lips tilted into an innocent smile, “That’s me.”

“I’ve been informed that you wouldn’t speak to anyone else.”

Christian nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

Y/n checked her watch before straightening her posture, and leaning her elbows onto the table, “Well, be my guest.”

Christian bowed his head slightly, “Thank you.”

It was silent for a moment, the two acquaintances observing each other, noting their body language and movements.

“So,” Christian broke the silence, “How are you, y/n?”

Y/n clenched her jaw, “It’s Sergeant y/n.”

Christian winced, “Sorry...Sergeant. Not much of a talker, hmm?”

Y/n tapped her fingers against the metal table, “We don’t have all day, stop beating around the bush. What are you here for Christian?”

Christian sighed, mimicking y/n’s posture as he leaned his arms against the table, “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“You were spotted on 6th Avenue, two days ago at 6:30 PM, running away from a scene.”

Christian smirked, “Never seen someone going on a run before?”

Y/n glared at him, “With a knife? And blood stains?”

Christian giggled, “Don’t you run with a knife and blood stains?”

Y/n’s neutral unmoving expression pushed Christian to back away, lifting his hands in defense, “It was a joke.”

Y/n sighed, “This isn’t a joke. You have an extensive criminal record and are suspect to a murder.”

Christian grinned, “Didn’t they already solve that one?”

Y/n clenched her teeth, “Yes, but you got out and here we are.”

Christian leaned back, satisfied from the response he pulled from y/n.

“What’s the point in calling me here if you aren’t going to get to the point?”

Christian glanced past y/n at the mirror, “I asked to see you.”

“And? You got that.”

He tisked, “Your coworker is watching us.”

“It’s standard procedure.”

Christian licked his drying lips, “Fine then, have it your way.”

He looked back down at his wrists, like the handcuffs were the most interesting items in the room. A static from y/n’s walkie talkie alerted her and she pulled it out.

“It’s your call, Sergeant,” Amy spoke through the line.

“Let’s give him what he wants,” y/n looked Christian in the eye, “I need answers.”

Amy responded back before the sound of a door shut was closing. Christian watched as the mirror merged into a transparent glass, showing an empty room. He smiled at y/n.

Y/n sighed, flipping through the pages of his file, “Now, that’s settled. Let’s get talking shall we?”

Y/n stopped at a page, which reported the events of the crime scene of focus.

“You have a pattern in the way you work, Seavey.”

Christian grinned, “Is that so?”

“You always leave behind a clue, a card. The King of Hearts,” y/n pulled out a paper of photographs, placing it onto the table and sliding it towards Christian. Christian admired the photographs, captures of his signature card in different crime settings.

“There’s just one thing I haven’t figured out, just yet.”

Christian looked up, puffing a gust of air as a strand of his untamed hair fell onto his face.

“Why? Why all of this when you have so much? You have the money, the experience, the skill for so much more. What’s your intention, Seavey?”

Christian grinned, “I was waiting for that question. Why?”

He looked down at his handcuffed wrists, playing with the chain.

“Everyone’s addicted to something,” he began. “Kids these days can’t get off the screen, some people are addicted to alcohol, drugs.”

Y/n pulled out a pen, twisting it in her fingers, “What are you addicted to?”, she asked.

Christian looked up, a ghost of a smile on his face, “I like playing games.”

Y/n nodded, “What kind? You into Call of Duty? Racing games?”

Christian smirked in response, an underlying sinister meaning behind his expression, “No, not those kinds of games.”

Y/n sat up in her chair, curiosity sparking her next question, “Then what kind of games do you play?”

Christian’s smirk grew wider, as he displayed his wrists, free of the handcuffs, “The kind that gets you into trouble.”

Y/n immediately stood up, in sync with Christian, their metal chairs scraping across the floor. She pulled out her gun, pointing it straight at him, “Hands up.”

Christian lifted his hands slowly, laughing quietly. His hands flashed forward, hitting y/n’s elbow and allowing him to yank the gun out of her hands. He twisted it around, aiming it at her, “Ladies first.”

Christian eyed y/n’s hand as it gently brushed the table, reaching for the walkie talkie. “If you even do so much as think about touching that, it will be the last thing you’ll ever do.”

Y/n smiled, “Who said I was?”. Her fingers gripped onto a hidden pistol under the table and pulled it out, pointing it at Christian.

They remained unmoving, silently, face to face, their weapons pointing at each other, centimetres away from death.

“Put the gun down, Sergeant,” Christian spoke steadily.

Y/n gripped the gun with both hands, “You first.”

Christian sighed, “You and I both know, I’m the more experienced shooter. I could do this all day.”

Y/n remained silent, her fingers pulled the trigger.

Christian smirked, unphased, “How’s your friend, y/fr/n? I heard they’re in the hospital.”

Y/n faltered, glaring at him.

“Avenue Hospital? Near the middle of the city?”

“Stop.”

“Room 374, right?”

“If you even think about hurting them, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“Follow my orders or start planning your friend’s funeral, the choice is yours,” he grinned cynically.

Y/n hesitated before gently lowering her gun, placing it on the table. The loud clang of the metal hitting the table resonated through the room. She lifted her hands up.

“Good. Now,” Christian gestured the gun towards the door, “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”